Bias

My mom is critically ill. Before she passes away, she wants to see me married. It takes 27 days of pleading before my boyfriend, Kyle Grayson, says yes. I wait at the city hall until the doors close, but he never shows up. That same day, his childhood sweetheart, Ruby Callahan, posts their marriage certificate online. "Time flies. Three days more and we'll be a month in." Only then does it hit me. The very first day I begged, Kyle was already Ruby's husband. Right then, a text from Kyle lights up my phone. "Holly, Ruby's family was pushing her into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch her marry just anyone and ruin her life. We'll be divorced in three days. I'll marry you then." Three days later, he shows up at the city hall in a suit. But all he gets is a text from me. "Goodbye for good, Kyle."

My sister ate the half plate of mango I had left on the table and broke out in hives from her allergy. My brother stormed over, pried my mouth open, and poured the mango juice straight down my throat. "You love mangoes so much, don't you? Today you'll get your fill." The juice flooded my lungs. I choked, fighting for air as my throat swelled in agony, begging him to save me. Instead, he turned and locked me in the basement. "Betty suffered because of you, so don't expect any comfort. Stay down here and reflect on what you've done. Growing up without any real guidance. No wonder you're so vicious." Two days later, my mom remembered me. "Ralph, that's enough. Let Catherine out. If she stays there much longer, she might start resenting Betty." My dad chimed in casually, "What's the big deal? Just buy her something nice to make up for it." My spirit clung to his back, floating along with them toward the basement. I'd like to see how they were going to compensate a dead girl.

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.

My sister wanted to make a quick buck selling herself on a cruise ship. I tried desperately to stop her, but my entire family held me down and drowned me in the ocean instead. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment before she left. This time, I smiled while helping her with her makeup. "Let me send you off properly, sis." Later, her screams echoed through the nightmare aboard that ship. I stood safe in the arms of a mafia Don who held me close. "Figlia, your Papa finally found you." Meanwhile, my adoptive parents and sister were on their knees across the deck, begging me to spare their worthless lives.

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."

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!

To cheer up their depressed adopted daughter, Ashley Reid, my parents don't dare to treat me nicely. They've even locked me in a pitch-black room more than 700 times, just to put a smile on her face. At first, they feel guilty toward me. But eventually, even my older brother, Liam Reid, who used to care for me the most, treats it like it's all perfectly reasonable. When Ashley's depression finally starts to ease, I work up the courage to kneel and beg them to seal off that room for good. But at her birthday party, simply because I'm wearing the only T-shirt I own, she starts tearing up and asks my parents if I don't like her. My parents and Liam rush to comfort her and, yet again, lock me away in that dark, endless room. "Summer, you're her elder sister. You have to be more considerate of her feelings." "If you hadn't insisted on wearing something so tacky for her birthday party, she wouldn't have gotten so upset." "You've gotten used to it after all these years, right? One more time won't matter to you." I curl up in the corner, gripping my hair, unable to say a word. Three days later, they finally let me out. They remind me not to upset Ashley again. But I just stare at them blankly. "Sorry, who are you?"

Rainy nights in Sicelia were always thick with the stench of rust and gunpowder. Rumors had circulated that the newly appointed Don of the Romano family, one of the most powerful mafia clans, had been badly disfigured in a fire. His temper had grown brutal, and three fiancées had already been driven to terror. When the news reached the Deluca family estate, my so-called sister had collapsed in tears and begged me to take her place and honor the engagement. I had watched her act in silence before kicking her to the floor. I had said calmly, "When I was brought back into this family, you were afraid of losing your status. You rushed to secure the marriage alliance to protect your position. Now that your fiancé is disfigured and you can't bear to face that scarred monster, you want to shove me into the flames instead?" At that moment, my childhood sweetheart had burst through the door. He bent down and helped my fake sister to her feet, his concern plain to see. "Elena, don't be so ungrateful," he snapped. "This marriage was yours from the beginning. Now it's simply returning to its rightful owner. Tomorrow, I'll be holding a grand wedding with Rosa. As for you, you can obediently go and serve that monster." My parents had stormed in as well, pointing at me and cursing without restraint. As I looked at the selfish faces before me, I drew a slow breath. Resolve hardened in my eyes. "Fine," I had said quietly. "Then all of you can come down to hell with me."

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."