scumbag system donghua

On the day of the company's annual gala, my CEO husband suddenly assigned me an unexpected business trip. The plane had barely touched down when I received a call from his young assistant. Before I could utter a word, her voice came through, "Matty, did you send Daphne on that business trip just so we could spend more time together?" And then, as if to hammer the nail deeper into my heart, I heard his unmistakable tone—light, indulgent, full of affection, "What do you think, silly girl?" Her laughter rang out before she teased, "Then tonight, let's try something new. I promise you'll be satisfied..." The call ended amidst a swirl of suggestive murmurs. Staring at my phone, I waged a silent war with the pain gripping my chest. Again and again, I dialed his number, each attempt met with either silence or the cruel finality of his phone being switched off. Finally, I let out a bitter laugh, tucking the phone away as if to bury the wound it carried. From that moment on, I resolved—no more questions, no more efforts to understand this man who had once been my whole world. But fate has its own irony. Later, it was he who came back, pleading, begging me to love him again.

I was Lonnie Vaughn's fiancée, yet he treated me with disdain, looking at me as though I was nothing more than a bothersome obligation. To outsiders, I was just a caged songbird he kept for amusement—disposable when he tired of me. I refused to believe it. In my eyes, Lonnie loved me, too; he was just terrible at expressing it. But that illusion shattered when I became the victim of face-swapping. When those filthy videos were played in front of Lonnie, he refused to listen to my desperate explanations. When I was kidnapped, he refused to pay the ransom. All because his maid sneered, "Olivia's tainted. She needs to be taught a lesson." Lonnie responded, "I never want to see you again in this lifetime." Those words fueled the captors' cruelty. For three months, they tortured me. By the end, I truly was tainted, and my love for Lonnie was buried beneath layers of ash and despair. Then Lonnie appeared before me while sobbing in regret, begging me to love him again.

My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants. Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax. My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture. Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead." What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

Five years of marriage, and I was finally pregnant. I couldn't wait to tell Neil—until I heard his mom say: "When are you going to tell Angela? Cece's already showing. This family needs an heir." "Just give me a little more time. I'll handle it." I froze in the doorway, the ultrasound report burning in my pocket. Neil Schmidt, your promises mean nothing.

After experiencing an unjust death, a girl wakes up in an era where the human population is steadily decreasing. Fate brings her to a man's embrace who is willing to give her everything in this damned world. Facing an endless, unpredictable battle, can she survive? Will the Lieutenant General's love for her stay forever?

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

The day of my wedding photoshoot, my family's adoptive daughter tugs my veil off and asks loudly, "Aren't you our family's adoptive daughter? What are you doing here? Today's the day Ian and I are supposed to have our wedding photoshoot. Aren't you going to disgrace Ford Group by being here?" In the past, I would've run away in tears. Unfortunately for her, I'd been reborn. I slapped Aspen Miller and retorted, "What right do you have to speak to me? Who do you think you are, having a wedding photoshoot with Adrian? Are you worthy of being associated with Ford Group?"

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”

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!

On our fifth anniversary, my fiance, Caleb Alton, mixed up gifts meant for me and someone else. When he pulled out a set of lingerie, he looked flustered and explained that the store had sent the wrong item. The next day, I saw a video posted on social media by his junior colleague, Mia Lawson. The caption read, “He said that old lady of his is out of shape, but I look the sexiest in this.” In the video, she was wearing the same lingerie and lounging seductively in Caleb’s arms. I glanced at the engagement ring identical to the one Caleb wore and decided to call my boss. “Hello, Mr. Farrington. I’ve made up my mind. I can start at the branch office next week.”