Bias

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

"Mom, help! Dad locked me in the car!" It was 2:00 pm in the blazing heat of a summer afternoon, and my heart stopped when I heard my daughter's panicked voice. I immediately began searching for my daughter, but my husband sounded impatient when he answered my call. "Holly's in a bad mood. I'm taking her to the amusement park. Why are you overreacting? She'll be fine." He sounded annoyed and hung up immediately after he was done speaking. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, but all I could think was that he'd better pray nothing happened to her.

A homecoming banquet was organized for my wealthy boyfriend’s first love. At the banquet, he forced me to drink an entire glass of Whisky, even though I was pregnant, just to make his first love happy. My abdomen was in excruciating pain, and blood was seeping through my white dress. He kissed his first love in front of me as his friends cheered him on. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a cold remark. “Ignore her. She’s just a mistress. She won’t be able to live without me.” When I woke up in the hospital, I caressed my flat stomach and wanted to send him a photo of the medical report detailing my miscarriage. However, I realized that his profile picture had been changed to a photo of his first love’s side profile. He even blocked me again. However, this time, I did not beg him as I had in the past. Instead, I booked a flight ticket to leave the country.

I’m the daughter of the Alpha of the Embermoon Pack. As my post-transformation wolf form was tall, powerful, and strikingly beautiful, I had always been favored by my parents and cherished by the pack. Yet, during a journey with my brother, Gariel, I was betrayed, ambushed, and sold into an illegal mining camp on the frontier. There, electric fences, raised gun barrels, and endless despair became my prison. To prevent escape, the overseer would select a group of so-called “lucky ones” at regular intervals. In front of all the miners, they would hack off their hands and feet. Half a year slipped by in torment, and I wasted away until I was barely recognizable. My body was covered in scars, looking like a demon dragged out of hell. Even so, I clung to the belief that my brother would come for me. Then, one day, by pure accident, I overheard a phone call between the overseer and my brother. “You sure are ruthless to have the heart to sell your beautiful sister to us. Your parents must be losing their minds by now.” Those words instantly extinguished the very last trace of hope I had left.

My mother was the Chosen Luna—the one who once conquered three powerful Alphas. When her mission was done, she vanished from this world, leaving behind only me, and the three Alphas who had once loved her with everything they had. My first father, Alpha Jeff Tanners, ruled the Silver Moon Pack—rich enough to buy half the continent. My second father, Alpha Kael Grey, commanded all the warriors of the Northern Alliance. My third father, Alpha Bran Theron, held every medical resource wolves and humans depended on. For eighteen years, I was their cherished little princess. Whatever I wanted, they gave—no questions, no hesitation. Until they brought home that girl—a fragile orphan named Arie Ryker. From that day on, everything changed. She told them I called her a filthy stray, unworthy of our pack. She said I led the young wolves at school to bully her. She said I tampered with her performance costume, that I caused her allergy, that I made her faint on stage. And they believed her. They stopped believing me. The ninety-ninth time they chose her over me, when they shouted, "Don't come back again!", I didn't argue. I just picked up my luggage and left. They thought I'd come running home like before—that my disappearance was just another way to make them see me. But when they found out I had left the pack for good, that my identity had been erased, that I could no longer be found, the three mighty Alphas finally broke.

Everyone in the city knew that James Frost loved me and our son to bits. When I suggested stargazing, James spent millions to create a meteor shower. As my son loved riding carousels, James built the biggest amusement park and named it after him. He was never stingy when it came to doting on us, and it was only natural he brought in the best doctors to save me when my son and I were caught in a car crash. I fought to stay conscious and asked him to save our son first, only for him to tell me tearfully that our son had died while being transported to the hospital. Devastated, my mind caved, and I passed out. When I woke up, I overheard the doctor asking James, "Why did you stop us, Mr. Frost? We could have saved your son!" "Stan is only alive to save the son I had with Sue," James replied nonchalantly. "If he was alive, how would I ever transplant his heart without legal repercussions? "I've been plenty kind to him and Wanda over the years—it's time they repay me." So everything he did for me and Stan was just a trade—for Stan's heart. That meant he was responsible for the suffering Stan and I were put through as well! In that case, I would let him have his wish!

My sister-in-law, Cynthia Ziegler, has my name written on her cancer diagnosis report. As such, the entire Ziegler family assumes that I'm the one with cancer. Overnight, my husband, Leonard Ziegler, sends a text message to his mistress, Irene Ludlow. "Our time will soon come! That old bat is about to die at last, so I'll finally be able to marry you!" My grandmother, Amanda Powell, cries and clings onto my hand, begging me not to seek treatment. She is not only discussing with Leonard on how best to split my insurance money after my death but also employing various methods to hasten my death. However, they are all unaware that Cynthia used my medical insurance card when she went for her physical examination. I feign sadness and nod with tears in my eyes. "I won't seek treatment, Mom. Let's not seek treatment no matter who is diagnosed with cancer."

For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder. She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year. That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years. But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce." She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence. I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.