Good Manhwas With Op Mc

Carl Anderson doesn't show up for our engagement party. I finally find him in a bar's private room after night has fallen. "I only think of her as a sister. Who would've expected her to want to latch onto me like that? There's no way I'll marry her in this lifetime!" He downs his drink. Later, when he and Angela Moran get married, he tells his friends to stop me at the entrance. He's afraid I'll crash his wedding and ruin it. "Keep an eye on Iris, guys. Don't let her crash the wedding!" he says. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I show up with Henry Moran. "Don't even dream of stepping in there, Iris!" Carl looks at me warily. "You're so rude! You have to call her Aunt Iris now!" Angela greets me warmly and leads me inside.

The day before New Year's, my younger brother announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for dinner. Excited, I drove my new car to pick them up, taking my daughter along with me. However, as soon as his girlfriend got in the car, her face darkened. "Henry, you didn't tell me your sister was staying at your place—and with a kid!" she snapped. I frowned and was about to explain when my brother quickly interjected, "She's not staying. After dropping us off, she'll be heading to a hotel." Only then did his girlfriend's expression ease. I swallowed my discomfort and asked my brother what he was planning. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Sis, don't cause any trouble for me, okay? My girlfriend is the daughter of the Cromwell Group's CEO!" My eyes widened in shock. Was not the Cromwell Group the same company my ex-husband had just handed over to me as part of our divorce settlement?

I'm severely allergic to many things, so my husband buys a separate villa for me. It's supposed to be sort of a nursing home. When my future daughter-in-law learns about this, she thinks my son is cheating on her. She breaks my bones to vent her anger. When she finds out I'm her future mother-in-law, she caresses her belly and looks at me smugly. "I'm already pregnant with Shawn's child. Think about whether you want this child to make it into this world." What she doesn't know is that the Ziegler family's fortune belongs to me and that Shawn Ziegler is only my adoptive son.

After I brought in 300 million dollars in investment for his company, my fiance showed me the home we would share. I thought we would finally get married after eight years together, but instead, he turned on a building game. “I laid every brick here. Once the company is listed, I’ll build you a house just like this one.” I found him and his secretary showing off their love. He had bought her an expensive villa as a gift. I sent the photo to my fiance. “You can afford to buy someone a villa as a gift, but not our home?” Displeased, he said, “Alyssa is the company’s backbone. I’m only giving her a villa to encourage the other staff to do better!” But in the background, I heard Alyssa’s pleased laughter. “Some people should really be more self-aware. Does she think getting some investment makes her the boss of this company?” I did my best to suppress my anger. I wanted to see just how long the company would survive if not for the investments I found!

On the way back to work after the New Year, my wife Liana Corn and I got into a car accident. Opening my eyes again, I realized that we had returned to the time we just started dating. In our previous life, we were married for eight years. Life was good, but she refused to have any children. Later, I learned that she had always kept her childhood sweetheart in her heart. After our regression, I decided to set us both free. We both deleted each other's contacts without a word, stopped seeing each other, and became complete strangers. Eight years later, Liana became a top investor. At our class reunion, she made a high-profile announcement with her childhood sweetheart Serge Gibson. Seeing that I had come to the reunion alone, she teased me. "Ryan Carter, I know I'm attractive. You love me for two lifetimes and still can't let go, but you don't need to cling to me like this." I pretended not to hear and took my son by the hand. Liana's face instantly turned pale, her eyes bloodshot. "Didn't you say you'd love only me for life?" she demanded. "How can you have a son with someone else?!"

Seven years after getting engaged to Leander Beaumont, he inherits everything that once belonged to his late brother—including his brother's wife, Dinah Fowler. Every time Leander sleeps with Dinah, he holds me afterward and whispers, "Jenny, just wait a little longer. We can finally have our wedding once Dinah gets pregnant." It's the only condition the Beaumont family, Westrael’s most powerful mafia clan, sets for Leander to become the next Don. In just half a year after returning home, Leander visits Dinah's room 59 times. He starts from once a month... to nearly every single day. Finally, after the 60th time I watch him leave Dinah's room, the "good news" comes. Dinah is pregnant. And along with it, an announcement—the Beaumont family declares Leander and Dinah are getting married. "Mamma, is someone getting married?" my young son asks, staring at the house now lavishly decorated by a wedding company. I quietly gather him into my arms, my voice cold as I say, "Yes, sweetheart. Your father is marrying the woman he loves. It's time for us to leave." What Leander doesn't know is that the Bellini family, my family, has risen to become a mafia power strong enough to rival the Beaumonts. And me? I'm Jenny Bellini, the most beloved daughter of the Bellini family. I will never be trapped by marriage again.

I was dying soon. However, both of my childhood friends, who swore to protect me forever, did not realize that. It was because they were busy throwing a celebration party for their junior from the research lab. I went through hardships and got infected by this incurable virus to retrieve this special seaweed from the deep sea. However, that junior claimed that she was the one who got the seaweed! My childhood friends, whom I had known for decades, believed her. Due to their accusations, I became the evil senior who was taking credit for a junior’s work. I wanted to explain, but they said, “Mandy Smith is a good kid. Why would she lie?” “You’re busy playing tricks and acting like a pick-me girl instead of focusing on your research. Trust me, I’m going to get you removed by our supervisor.” After I was discharged from the hospital, I left the research lab and disappeared just like they wanted. However, they started to desperately look for me.

I've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.