Emotional

When my neighbor's daughter-in-law falls pregnant, my neighbor issues a few "decrees" in a group chat for all residents in the area. "Number 1: Anyone whose family has daughters has to avoid leaving the house when my daughter-in-law does. I don't want them to hurt my grandson! "Number 2: Every family has to purchase meat and expensive fruits once a week and present them to my daughter-in-law! "Number 3: After my grandson is born, I will bestow upon everyone the honor to bask in his fortune. Every family has to give us 300 dollars as a gift. I will personally visit each family that doesn't!" She even singles me out with a message. "Unit 401, I want you to immediately stop feeding stray cats. I'll also give you three days to get rid of your cat! My daughter-in-law is scared of cats, and the creatures are covered in germs. What if she catches a virus from your cat when she goes downstairs for a walk? What if you hurt my grandson? "I command you to immediately bring me one thousand dollars as a deposit and guarantee. If I catch you feeding stray cats one more time, I'll confiscate the money!" I transfer 20 thousand dollars to her, yet she grovels at my feet and begs me to take the money back.

After our class reunion, my best friend naturally expected me to play chauffeur and drive everyone home. I agreed. However, halfway down the road, a limited-edition luxury car slammed into the back of my car. The owner, who claimed to be a wealthy businessman from overseas, waved off the idea of filing an insurance claim. He said the crash was fate, and with a grand gesture, handed the luxury car over to me on the spot. From that day on, I drove the million-dollar luxury car every day, until jealousy consumed my best friend. She secretly sabotaged my car, and it ended with my death in a fiery wreck. My boyfriend turned on me, insisting I had simply fallen asleep at the wheel. My parents, unable to bear the shock, both died of heart attacks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the reunion.

When I was discharged from the psychiatric hospital, my brother and sister-in-law dropped everything to personally pick me up. Even my nephew, who had just finished his college entrance exams, arrived with a box of carrot cake he had waited in line all day to buy. His warm smile was the picture of innocence. “Auntie, congratulations on your discharge. With me here, you’ll never feel lonely again.” To outsiders, we were the perfect family—envied by all and even awarded the title of a local model family. But behind the facade of family bliss lay a very different story. On the very day my brother transferred the last of the family properties to me, I went live on social media. In front of an audience that idolized my so-called perfect family, I boasted about my "accomplishments." I conned my nephew into paying for a spot at an elite school, duped my sister-in-law into stepping into a scandalous club, and tricked my brother into losing everything he had worked for. “My brother has treated me with nothing but kindness. And I can only repay his kindness with betrayal.”

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

I head to a real estate sales office with my fiancée to purchase a marital home, where we meet a two-faced realtor. He starts off by complimenting my fiancée for everything she's achieved at her young age, especially since she can afford to drive a Rolls-Royce. Then, he hints that I'm wearing a fake watch and pretending to be rich so that I can live off her money and get a house without paying a cent. When he learns that we're buying our marital home, he raises his voice and says to me, "I think the sugar mommy who bought you two houses the last time was pretty nice. Oh, wait—I forgot that you have more than one sugar mommy, Mr. Bellway. Do they know of one another's existences?" I smile. My so-called sugar mommy is my actual godmother, but there's no denying that she's rich. Unfortunately for this realtor, my fiancée is nothing but a poor student whom I sponsored back in the day!

My daughter, Wendy Lawson, was a rising star in the piano world. But on the day of the piano competition grand finals, someone locked her in a restroom. She was so shaken she missed her chance at the championship. I checked the CCTV footage and found out exactly who was behind it. I was ready to file a formal complaint for malicious sabotage. But my husband stepped in and shut me down cold. “It was just a squabble between two kids. If you report Theresa’s sister, I’ll make sure Wendy doesn’t even get second place!” I was so furious my whole body trembled. I never imagined Phillip would go this far to bully his own daughter to protect his secretary’s sister! Just then, Wendy held onto my hand as she fought back tears. “Mom, I don’t want the championship anymore… and I don’t want Dad either.” I tightened my grip around her small hand. “All right. If you do not want him, then I do not want him either!”

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

My daughter unplugs my oxygen tube before throwing herself into her nanny's arms. "The old hag is finally dying, Mom. I don't need to call a thief my mother anymore!" It turns out the nanny switched my child for hers when they were born. I've spent the last two decades doting on the nanny's daughter. I die of an aneurysm after recalling my birth daughter's horrible death. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my daughter was born.

My sister is diagnosed with leukemia after a medical checkup at the hospital where I work. My bone marrow is a match for her. Out of curiosity, I tell my family I'm the one who's sick. They vehemently oppose to her donating her bone marrow to me. "A bone marrow donation is risky! We can't let your sister put herself in danger." "Don't drag your sister into this just because you're sick. Everyone's life and death is fated—you have to accept your destiny." My sister also refuses to help me, brushing me off with the excuse that she's preparing to conceive. My relationship with my family is strained, so their behavior thoroughly destroys it. When I realize this, I leave the diagnosis report behind and walk out on them.

My nanny, Lucci Eyre, liked to call herself an independent, modern woman. She used to tell me every day to be self-reliant, do my own laundry and cooking, take care of the kids by myself, and even suggested that I divorce my husband. Later on, I found out that she was actually a social media influencer. Without asking for my permission, she made a series of videos trying to make me look pathetic as a Stepford wife. She also stole my jewelry and clothes. After I fired her, she accused me in the live stream of being a rival female competitor and pandering to men. Then one of her crazy fans tricked her way into my home and poisoned me. When I woke up again, I was reborn to the day I discovered that her social media account had millions of followers. ‘Since you're so into live streaming and making short videos, why not show everyone who you really are and let them see the independent woman that you are?’