Scumbag System

One day, after getting rear-ended outside my office, I, Maeve Dahlman, call out for help, but Austin Cooper, who is simply passing by with Carmen Holt, merely glances at me impatiently, annoyed that I've disrupted their lunch plans. Instead of helping, he has his assistant take me to his private club and lock me in a room, accusing me of being paranoid and dramatic. "I'll give you three days to calm down," he says before walking away and leaving me in isolation. Eventually, I escape and call the police. An ambulance rushes me to the hospital, where doctors diagnose me with a brain injury that requires immediate surgery. I keep calling Austin, only to realize that he has blocked my number. Then, I see Carmen's latest post online, gushing about a romantic luxurious dinner with him. After I'm discharged, I cancel the wedding, destroy all the invitations, and finally call my mother. "Mom," I say, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to meet him."

I return to the country after attending an international anesthesia academic conference. That's when I see the news of my boyfriend and twin sister getting married. I'm anxious to verify its authenticity, but my sister drugs me and induces me. "A substitute's child will only be an unwelcome bastard even if it's born. I'm just helping it move on to a better life." Then, she slices me open with a scalpel. She gouges my womb out, causing me to die from significant blood loss. Meanwhile, my boyfriend believes her lies. He's sure he's not the father of my child. He ignores my messages begging him to save me. Instead, he spreads the word about me eloping with someone else. He even wipes all traces of me from his life. "I will never see her again, forever and ever." Five years later, surveillance footage of my sister cruelly murdering me surfaces.

I received a call the day before my wedding. "Miss McPherson, someone has thrashed your venue." I rushed to the hotel in confusion only to meet a woman waving my wedding photo. "You homewrecking skank! You seduced my husband and spent his money on this wedding!" The crowd believed her and went wild. Even the hotel manager piled on me. "I knew something was fishy when the groom never showed up! You're not his real wife!" The crowd turned into a violent mob. In that chaos, I miscarried. At the height of my fury, I texted my secretary: [Cancel the wedding, and kick Matteo Brando out of my company!] How dare he keep a mistress with my fortune! How dare she challenge me! I will destroy them!

A group of unexpected guests suddenly barged into my relative’s funeral. The woman, Xena Carter, leading them claimed to be my husband’s girlfriend and declared that she was here to punish me, the supposed mistress. Out of respect for the funeral, I did not want to make a scene, so I calmly suggested she wait until it was over. But out of nowhere, she lashed out and ordered her group to shred all of my clothes. My relatives around us did nothing and watched coldly as it happened. I calmly dusted myself off, stood up, and led her over to the urn. "This urn for my mother was bought by your boyfriend. It cost nearly a million!" As expected, the mistress flew into a rage, smashing the urn to pieces. "You shameless family of lowlifes! Don’t think you’ll get a single cent from my boyfriend, even in death!" What she did not know was that when I said "mother," I was referring to my husband’s mother, my mother-in-law. She was causing a scene at my mother-in-law’s funeral, and she had just smashed her urn to pieces.

Five years ago, Suri ruptured her uterus pushing Bruce out of the path of a car. The injury left her unable to have kids. But Bruce didn't care—he still pushed for the wedding. After they got married, he poured nearly everything into her. Or so she thought. Then came the scandal. One of his business rivals leaked it, and just like that, the truth exploded online—Bruce had another woman. She was already over three months pregnant. That night, he dropped to his knees. "Suri, please. I'll fix it. I won't let her keep the baby..." And Suri? She forgave him. But on their fifth anniversary, she rushed to the hotel Bruce had reserved—only to find something else entirely. In the next room, Bruce sat beaming, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating that mistress's birthday. The smile on his face—pure joy. A smile she'd never once seen from him. That was the moment she knew. It was over. Time to go.

I was framed by my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart and spent five years in prison. While I was locked away, he moved her into my home, seized my property, and built a perfect life, thriving off everything I worked for. However, I would take back everything that they stole from me.

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

When I got up from Ted Wiley's bed, he lazily handed me my underwear. "I'm changing the door code, so don't come by unless it's urgent." I froze, blurting out, "Why?" He grinned. "She said yes to being my girlfriend yesterday. I can't have her spotting you here—she'd flip. It took me forever to win her over."

My husband, once a powerful CEO, had become bankrupt and sank into depression. Overnight, I went from being the wife of a CEO to a lowly worker. To help him pay off his debts and cover the costs of his depression treatment, I took a job as a hostess at an auction house. However, I never expected to see my husband there, who should've been in the hospital undergoing therapy, sitting in the VIP section. Without any hesitation, he bid on an exorbitantly priced necklace and gave it to the woman beside him. That necklace—the one I had pawned to pay off his debts—was my grandmother's heirloom.

I used to work as a model, but not the typical kind. In our profession, everyone had a benefactor, someone who supported them financially. I dedicated myself to my benefactor for a year and a half, tending to his needs diligently. Despite my dedication, I was eventually abandoned. Just when I gathered my courage and decided to start afresh, he showed up again, "Do you want to date me? Officially."