Ardisj Matthies

I was born with a curse. I see a shimmering, crimson timer above everyone's head, counting down to the exact moment of their death. For this, my family has treated me like a monster for eighteen years, blaming me for every tragedy I foresaw. On my 21st birthday, the timer finally appeared above my own head. I had twenty-four hours left to live. I spent my last day preparing a feast, a desperate plea for one final family dinner. With only minutes to spare, I called my eldest brother, Fredrick, my voice breaking. "Please, just come home," I sobbed. "I'm going to die tonight." His response was colder than the grave. "Are you really so desperate for attention that you'd stoop to such pathetic lies?" Then, I heard the click of the line going dead. I died alone at that table, surrounded by the food no one came to eat. But my death wasn't the end. It was the beginning of their nightmare, a personal hell of guilt they could never escape.

Five years ago, Dante Moretti was the Capo who promised to burn the world for me. Today, he is a monster with amnesia who treats me like a servant while parading his mistress, Carla, in front of me. When Carla cut her own baby's lip to frame me, Dante didn't ask for proof. He dragged me into the hotel lobby, claiming I was a monster who hurt children. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, "You use your voice to lie. You don't deserve a voice." He ordered his guards to hold me down. Then, he took a silver needle and thick black thread. Right there in front of the staff and guests, he sewed my mouth shut. Three stitches. One for silence. One for obedience. One for the Family. He thought he had broken me. He didn't know that while I bled, the walls blocking his memory were already crumbling. Months later, after I had escaped and built a new life, he found me. He knelt in the snow outside my gate, weeping, begging to fix what he broke. "I remember everything, Elena. I love you." I touched the white scars on my lips and looked down at him. "You can't fix this, Dante." "Unless you can give me the last five years back."

Eight times, I had felt the flutter of life inside me, a secret joy shared only with Aidan. And eight times, he had taken it away, whispering that our love was too fragile. This ninth time, a faint blue line on a plastic stick, I promised myself would be different. But then, he walked in with Gisele Vaughn, his arm possessively around her, announcing she was the new Mrs. Rosario. My heart stopped. The house staff fawned over her, their words cutting me like tiny knives. Aidan, once my protector, now accused me of drama, of trying to make Gisele uncomfortable. A wave of nausea hit me, the pregnancy test in my pocket a block of ice. He turned to Gisele, his voice softening, calling me emotional. I was just the ward, the child he was responsible for. But what about the whispered promises, the nights he held me like I was everything? Was it all a lie? Gisele' s cruel whisper confirmed it: Aidan had spent a decade making me fall in love with him, just to destroy me, to make my father feel the pain of losing a child. He called my lost babies "mistakes," "unwanted little accidents." The truth shattered me. He had used me, a pawn in his revenge. My love, my pain, my children-all meaningless. I had to escape, to protect this last, fragile life.

My husband, Brady, was supposed to be the love of my life, the man who promised to protect me forever. Instead, he was the one who hurt me the most. He forced me to sign divorce papers, accusing me of corporate espionage and sabotaging company projects, all while his first love, Hettie, who was supposedly dead, reappeared, pregnant with his child. My family was gone, my mother disowned me, and my father died while I was working late, a choice I'd regret forever. I was dying, suffering from late-stage cancer, and he didn't even know, or care. He was too busy with Hettie, who was allergic to the flowers I tended for him, the ones he loved because Hettie loved them. He accused me of having an affair with my adoptive brother, Callum, who was also my doctor, the only person who truly cared for me. He called me disgusting, a skeleton, and told me no one loved me. I was terrified that if I fought back, I would lose even the right to hear his voice on the phone. I was so weak, so pathetic. But I wouldn't let him win. I signed the divorce papers, giving him Simon Corp, the company he always wanted to destroy. I faked my death, hoping he would finally be happy. But I was wrong. Three years later, I returned as Aurora Morgan, a powerful woman with a new identity, ready to make him pay for everything he had done.

The first thing I felt after waking up from surgery was a dull ache and the annoying beeping of a machine. My eyes fluttered open to a sterile white ceiling. I didn' t know where I was, and I couldn't recognize the woman in a sharp business suit standing by the window-Chloe Davis, my wife. The doctor said the surgery was a success, and that I, "Liam," would make a full recovery. Liam? I had just donated a kidney, but not to myself. It was for her ex-fiancé, Liam, a fact she didn't even acknowledge. "The press is waiting outside," she said, spinning my near-death experience into PR for her company, hoping it would help with Series B funding. I stared at her, my mind blank. The past seven years, gone, erased by a surgical complication. I was twenty-two again. The man who had sacrificed a part of his body for her ex was a stranger to me. I grabbed a clipboard and wrote two words: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. Then I signed my name. "I want a divorce," I told her. She laughed, a short, ugly sound. "Don' t be ridiculous, Ethan. Is this some new way to get my attention? It' s pathetic." The pitying glances from the nurses and other patients' families made me sick. They saw a devoted husband, a hero. Chloe, seeing their sympathy, leaned in. "You think this stunt will work? You've been trying to guilt me for years. It won't work now." Then, as if discussing the weather, she said, "You' re fired, by the way... Think about your mistakes, Ethan. When you' re ready to apologize, you know where to find me." But it wasn't a mistake. "I just woke up," I said to her retreating back. My voice was stronger now. My friend Mark burst in, "Chloe' s assistant called me. A kidney? For Liam? Are you insane?" I looked at him. "I don' t remember... I don' t remember the last seven years." A seven-year chunk of my life, just… gone. Now, that memory, and all the others like it, felt like they belonged to someone else. It was like reading a sad story about a character I didn't know.

The silk sheets felt too soft, the air too clean. I sat up quickly, my hands flying to my stomach. It was flat, but not with the emptiness of starvation. It was the familiar flatness of the night before my wedding. My past life wasn\'t a nightmare. It was a memory. And today was my wedding day. Again. A sharp cramp seized my stomach, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead. That feeling was horribly familiar. It was happening again. In the grand hall of the Stone family estate, filled with the city\'s most powerful, the air was thick with fear that kept them silent. No one wanted to upset the Stones. Next to me, Brittany whimpered softly. We were both on our knees, captives in the middle of my wedding reception. Whispers started to ripple through the crowd, quiet but sharp. "Who will Liam choose?" "Chloe is probably done for. Liam never wanted this arranged marriage anyway. Maybe he' ll use this to get rid of her for good…" Liam stood before us, his handsome face a mask of stone. His eyes never left Brittany. "I want both," he said, his voice level. A cruel joke. The blade pressed deeper into my back. Brittany cried, "Liam, save me!" Without hesitation, Liam said, "Chloe, Brittany is different. She only has me. So I have to save her." He paused. "If something happens to you today, I' ll take care of your parents. I' ll repay you in the next life." My heart stopped. He was offering my family' s company as compensation for my life. I stared right back at him, the man who had killed me. "Why do you think the Kingston Corporation would still partner with the Stone family if you don' t choose me today? Liam, you overestimate yourself. And who the hell wants a next life with you?" His face darkened. "Chloe, are you pushing me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. The old Chloe would have fallen silent. That Chloe died in a cold basement, her baby dead inside her. I was awake now. "I wouldn' t dare push you, Mr. Stone," I said. "But today is our wedding. The security is extremely tight. If Brittany' s presence here was your doing, then tell me, how did this kidnapper get in with a knife?"

The studio lights burned hot, a stark contrast to the manufactured chill, as I stood on a platform, a fake smile plastered on my face. This wasn' t about a generic second chance; it was about Jake Miller. Then, he walked out-the boy I left behind, now a stranger in a tailored suit, a Silicon Valley titan. His gaze swept past me without a flicker of recognition, and my heart sank. Before I could process the sting, Chloe Davis, a social media influencer, glided onto the stage, linking her arm with his, her cooing voice dripping with practiced sweetness. He stood there, allowing her to cling to him, his silence a crushing answer-seven years of distance felt like an eternity. "Do I know you?" he asked, his eyes cold and empty, when I finally found the courage to approach. The question hit me harder than a physical blow, followed by his dismissive "Right. The artist. I' m a little busy right now." The next morning, his unanswered question mark on my phone served as a stark reminder of his indifference. Then, I overheard him promise Chloe a romantic dinner cruise, solidifying my humiliation. When I twisted my ankle during a beach volleyball game, he watched me with unnerving calm, then abandoned me to take Chloe on the promised date. That night, my desperate, anonymous text confessing my love was met with Chloe' s triumphant announcement that she and Jake were the "Heartbeat Couple," confirming he had publicly chosen her. Just as I was about to give up, my childhood best friend, Ethan Vance, unexpectedly appeared, announcing he was here to "reclaim his fiancée" right in front of Jake and the cameras. Jake' s mask of indifference cracked; his jaw tightened as he strode away, but moments later, in the library, he coldly told me I needed an "appointment" to speak with him. Later, seeing him subtly express jealousy towards Ethan gave me a sliver of hope, only for my mother to call, accusing me of embarrassing the family and demanding I leave the show. Then Ethan delivered the final blow: Jake was planning to announce his engagement to Chloe on the final episode. I rushed to Jake' s mansion, desperate for him to hear my explanation, only for him to declare, "I' m not interested in your excuses. It' s too late," then told me to leave. Returning one last time, begging at his gate, I confessed my heart through his closed door, only for him to open it, revealing Chloe, sitting smugly on his bed. He then pulled out his phone, showed me my contact, and brutally pressed "Delete," whispering, "Don' t ever contact me again," and added a final, cruel remark about Chloe' s preference for flowers. The next morning, as I cut my finger, bleeding onto the counter, he saw me, then turned away to pour Chloe orange juice, as if I didn' t exist. "I' m leaving the show," I told Liam, my voice hollow, realizing there was nothing left to fight for. A year later, with my art finding success, my phone rang-an unknown number. It was Jake, his voice hesitant, saying he needed to talk, and I echoed his past words, "My assistant can schedule a call for you. Perhaps in a few weeks," then hung up. Liam revealed the truth: I left for Paris not out of ambition, but to save my family from bankruptcy, and Jake had changed his number, preventing my desperate calls. Jake watched my televised interview, our misunderstanding laid bare, and for the first time, felt the full, crushing weight of his regret, and I knew: the chase was about to begin.

After seven years in war zones, Dr. Ethan Vance returned home, hoping for a joyful reunion with his Senator wife, Katherine. He imagined surprising her at their Georgetown townhouse, eager to finally bridge the distance. But her texts were cold, telling him to check into a hotel. His heart sank when he found their once-shared home stripped bare, like a tomb. Then, the news flashed her image, smiling, with country music star Cody Nash, her "serious partner." On their seventh anniversary, seeing Cody's arm possessively around Katherine at a gala, Ethan's world fractured. Cody, arrogant and smug, publicly shamed him, calling him a "stalker" for trying to approach his own wife. In a blinding flash of cameras, Ethan held up his marriage certificate and declared, "I'm her husband." Backstage, the devastating truth shattered him: Katherine and Cody had been together for four years. Four years, while he risked his life, believing in their future. The cold fury he felt wasn't just heartbreak; it was the sickening realization he'd been completely erased. He watched her turn his absence into her excuse, blaming him for her betrayal. Disgusted, Ethan reached for his phone. He now had one goal: expose the carefully constructed lie and reclaim his dignity. Would he demand an apology, or would he unleash a divorce that threatened to burn down her political world?

My best friend Chloe and I were drawn to The Hearth, a mountain valley sanctuary promising peace and belonging. We sought healing, desperate for a new start, believing in its vision of harmony and finding our true selves. But The Hearth was a gilded cage. After a decade of apparent bliss, I accidentally overheard a chilling conversation between Marcus, my husband and leader, and Julian, his second-in-command. They were discussing how they had orchestrated the brutal "cleansing" I endured years ago, merely to "test" me for Seraphina, the community's revered oracle. My world shattered. My spiritual abilities, my very 'Blossoming,' weren't nurtured but exploited. Chloe' s empathic Soul-Echo had been deliberately siphoned, a shard of it now a "charming little poppet" for Seraphina's raven. Marcus had faked an illness to manipulate me into draining eight of my nine Wellsprings, not for his safety, but to forge a mighty "Shield of Warding" for Seraphina. Even my nascent spiritual pregnancy was intentionally aborted by Marcus to preserve Seraphina's "primacy." Everything was a calculated lie, a cruel manipulation. The love, the care, the decade of peace – all for Seraphina's sake. How could we have been so blind, so stupidly grateful? The people we loved, the community we built, was nothing but an elaborate stage for their monstrous scheme. Chloe, pushed to her breaking point, unleashed her entire Soul-Echo in a desperate "Soulfire" against Seraphina, only for it to be blocked by the very shield made from my stolen power. She vanished, consumed by her own essence. My best friend, gone, and they dismissed it as mere theatrics, demanding more from me. In that moment, grief turned to an unquenchable, silent fury. They would pay. Every single one of them.

As a programmer from Chicago, my little brother Leo's rare illness left us drowning in debt, making the national InnovateNext coding championship our only lifeline. A Stanford scholarship and prize money were his only hope. But it felt like I was trapped in a recurring nightmare: my rival, Tiffany, always beat me by the exact same, infuriating margin – a flawless twenty points. Each defeat deepened my despair, the hollow victories mirroring Leo' s weakening breaths. Even my boyfriend, Mark, dismissed my suspicions, openly siding with her. I tried everything – offline coding, decoy functions, an unbuggable keyboard – yet that cursed twenty-point gap remained unyielding. It was maddeningly impossible. This wasn't just cheating; it felt like a pre-written script, a sinister force guaranteeing her win, pushing me to the brink of losing everything. Cornered, with Leo's life hanging by a thread, I made a desperate, radical gamble for the final round: I submitted the simplest code imaginable, "Hello, World!" I had to expose whatever unnatural power ensured her impossible triumph, even if it meant professional suicide.

When I was undercover in the gang, I disguised myself as a kidnapper and kidnapped the family of wealthy businessman Fu Songchen. I even forced him to strip dance while he delivered the ransom. After the mission ended, I returned to a normal life—delivering food during the day and driving a taxi at night. Fu Songchen monopolized the delivery market and acquired the taxi company, leaving me completely unemployed. With a smirk, he said, "Be my girlfriend, and I'll take care of you." He truly spoiled me for three years, showering me with affection and making me the envy of many. But then, his first love returned. To win her over, he forced me to strip dance in public. Because he had never forgotten the hatred from our days in the gang. He wanted to take revenge on me, deliberately spending three years elevating me to heaven, only to let me fall heavily into hell.

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

It was our fifth anniversary, and I sat alone in a Michelin-starred restaurant, staring at a diamond ring that felt more like an anchor than a promise. I kept telling myself Caleb was just busy, rationalizing the sharp, spasmodic pain in my stomach as mere nerves rather than my body's final warning. But when I went to his penthouse to surprise him, I found the double doors ajar. Through the gap, I watched my fiancé devouring Beatrice Blackwood on the sofa-the woman who had the family backing and confidence I supposedly lacked. He wasn't working; he was celebrating our anniversary by replacing me. The fallout was a calculated humiliation. The tabloids branded me a "pathetic orphan," and my Uncle Richard didn't care about the betrayal. He slammed his hand on his desk, claiming I was having another "psychotic episode" and accusing me of paranoia. He threatened to pull the plug on my mother's life support unless I went to the Hamptons to beg Caleb for forgiveness. My family even tried to force me onto heavy antipsychotics to keep me quiet for the sake of a corporate merger. I was being sold to a man who hated me by the very people who were supposed to protect me. I didn't understand why they wanted me broken, or why a mysterious stranger in an elevator had suddenly paid my mother's astronomical medical bills in full. Everything changed at a dinner where my uncle tried to trade me to a predator for a real estate deal. I didn't cry; I shattered a wine bottle and held the jagged glass to the man's throat. That's when Julian Blackwood, the most feared man on Wall Street, walked in and seized the house, the debt, and me. "I take my contracts seriously, Vanessa," he whispered, pulling me into his armored car as my family was thrown onto the street. I had escaped my uncle's cage, but as I looked into Julian's storm-gray eyes, I realized I had just traded a common bully for a beautiful, deadly king.

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?