105 Book(s) Related to random chat

“See? Mom warned you a long time ago—Rehn is a venomous snake to the bone.”
When a monster tore my right arm apart, and I watched my so-called best brother scoop up all the rations and run without looking back, my mother’s voice suddenly sounded inside my head.
But she’d died five years ago.
Mom told me my “good brother” hadn’t gone far at all.
He was hiding nearby, waiting for the monster to leave so he could come back and play the hero.
He would stash the ammunition, swap out my antibiotics, and in the end use me as the perfect meat shield—kicking me straight into a dead end.
To stay alive, I swallowed my blood-soaked humiliation and played along with him for a full one hundred and twenty minutes of brotherly devotion.
Until he finally tore off the mask and shoved me toward the most horrifying mutant.
I sneered and tossed away my self-defense knife.
Brother, you want to be a god of the wasteland?
Sorry. I’m going to be that god.

"Mom, I only want to go to Paris with you, not Dad."

When my ten-year-old daughter said this with tears in her eyes, I thought she was expressing her love for me.

I was wrong.

In our Paris hotel, I accidentally overheard the phone call that changed everything—

"Don't worry, Lily will find a way to extend the trip. I promised to buy her that concert-grade piano."

"Having sex in your marital bed is so thrilling, much better than at my apartment."

"That little girl Lily cooperates perfectly, always managing to lead Sarah away."

In that moment, my world completely shattered.

I thought I was only being betrayed by my husband, but discovered that even the daughter I carried for ten months was their carefully orchestrated pawn.

The child I raised with my own hands was actually helping her father's mistress occupy my home and sleep in my bed.

When a mother discovers she's been deceived by those she loves most, her revenge will make everyone pay a devastating price.

Two years later, when I saw that once-successful man wearing a shabby suit, accompanied by his malnourished daughter at my charity auction, I only said coldly:

"She can come with me, but you—never deserve it."

Every seven years, under the luminous full moon in Taurus, the mermaids of Atlantic City shed their tails and walk among humans for a fleeting month. During this mystical time, Mia, a reserved young woman living in a vibrant city filled with immigrants, encounters Charlie—a charming, playful cat who quickly becomes her best friend. Unbeknownst to Mia, her bond with Charlie is deeper than mere companionship: he is her soulmate, a remnant of her mermaid past reborn as a feline.

As the full moon wanes, Mia awakens in her new human life—a beautiful British woman with no memory of her underwater origins. She must navigate her new world, balancing her job, her ballet studies, and her growing connection to Charlie. However, her happiness is threatened when she learns that she must return to the underwater realm when the mermaid cycle begins again.

Meanwhile, Charlie remains her loyal guardian—always safe, healthy, and content. His unwavering love makes Mia feel secure and emboldens her to confront her emerging powers. As her feelings for Charlie deepen, Mia begins to sense she is destined for greater things. She prepares herself to face the challenges ahead, including confronting dark forces that threaten both the human and underwater worlds.

An evil entity—an evil specter—seeks to fight against God's love embedded in human hearts specially into her classmates when they start to being on possesion of the evil. This malevolent force aims to corrupt and destroy the purity of love and faith. Armed with her mermaid superpowers and the love of Charlie, Mia must stand against this darkness. Their bond becomes her strongest support in the battle to protect both worlds.

A family traitor had me and my five-year-old son chained up in an abandoned shipyard.
C-4 was strapped to my boy’s chest.
With ten minutes left, the kidnapper delivered his ultimatum:
“Bring Alessandro here, or I’ll send you both home in body bags.”
I tried accessing my hidden accounts to hire an extraction team, but the passwords had been changed.
I offered everything I owned for our lives, only to learn that my husband had drained every account to pay off a beachfront estate—for another woman.
I bit my lip until I called him. More than a dozen times before he answered.
All I got was Alessandro’s cold laugh.
“You’d really fake a kidnapping for attention?”
“The helicopter isn’t coming. Vivian’s shaken up. I’m taking her to buy a new dress. I don’t have time for your theatrics.”
Vivian’s soft voice drifted through the phone.
“Sandro, the thunder… I’m scared.”
He hung up.
In the bomb’s angry red glow, something inside me went still.
I dragged my wrist across a jagged edge until it split, tore off my wedding ring, and dropped it into the blood pooling at my feet.
Alessandro. Your wife and son are done waiting.
Seconds later, the explosion tore the night apart.
Alessandro stumbled from his Maybach and fell to his knees before the flames, screaming himself hoarse.

I nearly died in the freezing ocean at my adopted sister Jane's birthday party.

When the yacht started tilting and alarms shrieked through the corridors, Dad grabbed Jane and bolted for the deck without looking back. Mom clutched Jane's ragdoll cat in her arms, following close behind under the bodyguards' protection.

They saved the cat.

But left their biological daughter to drown.

Three days later, I staggered home covered in wounds. The living room was decorated with scented candles and a three-tier birthday cake. Light piano music mingled with laughter—they were throwing Jane a makeup birthday party, celebrating how "the whole family" survived the disaster.

I am Murphy, a noble black cat.
My human servant used to be the Chief Paladin of the Holy Church, and every meal he served me was top-tier salmon.
Now, his spine is shattered. He’s paralyzed in bed, charged with the crime of "colluding with the demons."
The Saintess, Elena, strutted in on her high heels to force him into signing a confession, cursing him as a "dead cripple who can't even manage his own piss and shit." His former deputy wants to step over his body to seize power, and has even ordered him to be burned alive.
Well, just so I can secure my future meal tickets, yours truly will just have to step in and clear his name, meow~

This book is the prequel to A Werelion for Cat.

(Warning this book contains content that may be very sensitive to some readers)

Emma grew up in a world where all she knew was pain and abuse.

She had a mother who loved her but didn't have the confidence or self-esteem to stand up for herself or her daughter.

Emma's stepfather abused his wife and stepdaughter relentlessly, leading to the death of his wife.

Emma's stepbrother Leo didn't receive the same treatment as she and her mother. However, he grew up in a household with a man that treated females as worthless objects.

How will Emma survive the abuse that killed her mother and protect her daughter born from an unplanned pregnancy?

This story shows Emma's life from a young child to early adulthood and the struggles she endured along the way.

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Kendrick, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope.
“Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Elena Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate.
“If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.”
He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?”
Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months.
Meanwhile, I packed my bags in silence.

I’d worked at my husband’s company for three years, only to be fired by him right when a promotion was within my reach.
It was all because I’d been swamped with overtime work one day and neglected the cat he’d given me.
When I came home that night and found the cat food hadn’t been refilled like usual, my husband, who had always treated me with tenderness, flew into a rage for the first time.
“If you can’t even take proper care of a cat, then don’t come to work at all. Stay home and raise it full-time.”
I parted my lips to explain myself, tears clouding my eyes, but he wouldn’t listen to a single word I said. The very next day, he instructed the HR department to dismiss me from the company.

Quiet, hardworking Lily Carter is too busy with school and her café job to think about love—until she crosses paths with Ethan Blake, the school’s feared bad boy.
Beneath Ethan’s rebellious exterior lies a painful past and fear of trust. Drawn to Lily (the only girl who doesn’t chase him), they form a fragile bond as he lets her see his vulnerable side.
But Ethan’s past and outside pressure lead to a devastating betrayal, breaking Lily’s heart. She walks away to rebuild her life, while Ethan, consumed with regret, must prove he’s changed to win her back....

He married her for a contract. She loved him for real.
When struggling designer Amara signs a one-year contract marriage with cold billionaire Adrian Wolfe, she promises herself one thing — never fall in love.
But love doesn't follow contracts.
One passionate night changes everything… and when Amara discovers she's pregnant, she believes it will finally make their fake marriage real. Instead, Adrian divorces her. Accused of betrayal. Branded a gold-digger. Thrown out without explanation.
Heartbroken and pregnant, Amara disappears — raising her son alone.
Five years later, fate brings them back together. Adrian is now engaged. Powerful. Untouchable. But the little boy with her eyes and his sharp gaze?
He's about to shatter every lie. And when the truth explodes, Adrian must face the cruel reality: He didn't just lose his contract bride. He lost his family.


"Work. Design your little dresses," Adrian whispered, his scent of cold rain and power enveloping me. "But remember, Amara—when the cameras are on, you are mine. When we are behind closed doors, you are a ghost."
"I've always been good at disappearing," I replied, signing my name on the dotted line.
I didn't know then that the Ice King had a fire in him that would burn my world to ashes. And I had no idea that in nine months, I would be running for my life, carrying the one thing he told me I could never have… His heir.

In my past life, when the apocalypse broke out, I braved the pressure and opened the fortress gates to take in my mother-in-law and brother-in-law, who had nowhere else to go.
They shoved my wife and me straight into a horde of zombies.
My wife and I were reborn seven days before the apocalypse. I turned my head and saw the same fear and coldness surging in her eyes as mine:
"This time, don't open the door."
"Never." I smiled coldly.
Not only would I keep the door shut—I would watch with my own eyes as those bloodsucking ingrates, who had drained me dry in my past life, were slowly devoured by hunger and despair right outside the gate.

"Get out of here with your dying bastard!"
My son suddenly fell critically ill, and the only matching organ was locked in my wife's family's cold storage. I stormed into the company with my critically ill child, only to be met with a severe suspension notice.
Everyone thought I was some lowly social outcast, someone they could crush at any moment.
Until I pulled out that dusty badge, my father-in-law, who controlled a New York business empire, was so terrified that he cleared the room on the spot, his legs going weak.
"Arrange surgery for my son immediately." I looked at him coldly. "If he misses the optimal transplant window, I guarantee your entire family, and this city, will be executed for him."

To save my cousin from a car accident, my mother, a medical luminary, used me as a "human guinea pig" for twelve years.
When I was twelve, she made me inject myself with three injections of unproven new drugs every week;
when I was fourteen, she directly shoved toxic compounds into my mouth.
When my organs were irreversibly failing and I was vomiting blood in the ICU, she coldly tossed me a payment order:
"Stop pretending to be dead. Immediately kowtow and apologize to your brother, or no hospital will admit you."
As she wished, I was forced to leave the hospital and died at her glamorous new drug launch.
Later, that high-and-mighty mother, obsessed with fame and fortune, knelt for an entire night in a snow-covered fir forest, holding my crudely made urn.
Sadly, I will never forgive her.

In this prestigious North American university, I was just a lowly physical education teacher, working long hours and being bossed around.
No one knew that two years ago, I was a special forces legend, codenamed "Tyrant," who climbed to the top of the dark web, stepping over the corpses of countless enemies in the abyss of hell.
I thought I had washed the blood off my hands.
Until that day, the only ordinary female student I cared about was lured into a black market industrial park on the Balkan border, facing a butcher's chainsaw.
For five million dollars to save my life, I was willing to swallow all my pride and bow to the school's richest family.
But what I got in return was public humiliation and a beating from the powerful.
They laughed at me, calling me a weakling, saying my life was less than that of a lowly dog.
Watching the video showing only five hours left of life and death, I snapped the spine of the richest man's bodyguard with my bare hands, tearing apart the docile mask I had worn for two years.
Crossing half the globe to storm into a heavily guarded, lawless land?
It had been a long time since I'd stretched my muscles.
It seems the world has forgotten why this dark jungle, filled with warlords and evil, still cannot bear to hear my name!

In this damned wasteland, nobody wants to travel with a burden.
But there were four filthy little ones who stubbornly insisted on following me, refusing to fight back or retaliate.
I looked at them, then at the approaching horde of zombies in the distance, and tossed a loaded pistol in front of them.
"Want to follow me? Fine."
I coldly placed a knife to the neck of the outermost zombie. "Here, if you want me, the lone wolf, to take you along, you'll have to prove you're not trash!"
"Take it and shoot it in the head! That's the only ticket to joining my team!"
The sixteen-year-old girl, tears streaming down her face, gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger.
I knew I could never shake them off again.

To give my twelve-year-old daughter a peaceful and ordinary childhood, I sealed away the "Eagle" badge that represented the highest military authority in the Federation, willingly becoming a repairman with an oily phone in a remote town.
I suppressed my murderous intent, swallowed my humiliation, and even remained silent about the injustice of the referee.
But my concessions to the powerful and wealthy resulted in the richest man leading a group of professional thugs to smash my home to ruins.
to fight in front of my daughter , until his reckless son smashed my "Eagle Badge," hidden deep inside.
They had no idea that the instant the badge broke—
the SSS-level emergency beacon hidden at its core—had been triggered !

My wife was a fearsome Mafia queen in Chicago.
On the anniversary of our daughter's death, she didn't show up.
When I arrived, the male college student she was keeping was trampling on my daughter's black-and-white portrait.
Instead of scolding him, my wife shielded him in her arms: "Marco was just a child, why are you arguing with him?"
She thought I would be like a dog, forever subservient to her for wealth and power, enduring her betrayal.
Until I discovered the true cause of my daughter's tragic death—
I simply pulled out a gun and pressed the muzzle against her forehead.

My wife, the most ruthless godmother in New York's underworld, wants a divorce.
The reason? Her male subordinate's old wound has flared up, and he only has three months to live. She wants to accompany him on his final journey as his wife.
To make room for her new lover, she not only doesn't go home, but even allows him to frame me for a fabricated death sentence.
In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, the backlash from deviating from the proper procedures caused my organs to rapidly fail, and I developed a persistent high fever.
Through the iron bars, she looked at my disfigured body, not recognizing me, but coldly raising her gun and giving the order to execute me herself.
She proudly believed that by clearing the way, she could go back and have a grand wedding with the man who was feigning illness.
Until the last shot, when my breathing stopped completely, she saw the old scar on the back of my left hand—the scar from the severed finger I had left for her.
That once arrogant godmother instantly broke down in tears beside my corpse.

I died on the second Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day.
My biological mother, the top neurologist in the United States, was standing in front of my corpse.
She looked at the bedsores all over my body, at the ribs that had been stomped broken, and explained coldly to hundreds of cameras:
“Trash from the bottom of society, covered in needle marks like this, doesn’t deserve to dirty my dissection table.”
She didn’t know that the “social garbage” she called a pill-seeking self-harmer was the son she had abandoned ten years ago.
When the cold scalpel cut open my chest, an old photograph stained with black blood slipped out.
The moment she saw it, the woman who had stood above everyone else—
went completely insane…

On the execution platform, my noble and beautiful wife used her dagger to carve open my chest.
My nominal adopted son pressed a red-hot iron into my skin, branding me with the "F"-class mark of the lowest outcast, draining my transcendent bloodline dry.
"The Storm Kingdom has no use for a cripple with zero beast-spirit affinity. You belong rotting in the abyss!"
They cut the chains and kicked me into the Black Abyss—a place from which no one returns—then turned to carve up my throne.
They thought I was as good as dead.
They had no idea that the deepest darkness of that abyss harbored the most terrifying ancient demon in existence.
Two weeks later, as they raised their glasses to toast the new king's coronation, I kicked down the castle gates, wielding the ember-fire of annihilation and a tide of ten thousand beasts.
Looking down at the woman who once stood so high above me, now groveling in the mud and begging for mercy, I tossed the bloodstained broken blade onto the hem of her dress:
"Remember this forever—it was you who took a nobody you crushed beneath your feet and turned him into a king you'll kneel before and never win back. Now, hand over your lives."

In my last life, the city became a locked-down apocalypse zone.
My “family-first” elite father shoved my older brother into a raider’s shotgun just to survive.
My pampered socialite mother thought I was dead weight—and personally threw me into a tide of infected.
When I opened my eyes again, it was the third day after the world collapsed.
Watching my mother still dilute her luxury face cream with the last half case of water—while my father lectured me about principles—
I drew my tactical knife and pinned it clean through the solid oak table.
“From now on, supplies are split. Rot here and prove it to me.”

My biological parents and younger brother conspired with an adopted outsider to fabricate an elaborate lie about a "super tsunami about to strike." They staged an act together, tricked me onto a cruise ship, and locked me deep in the hold. The moment the hatch closed, I heard their voices through a hidden camera, toasting with glasses:
"Finally got that jinx locked away. From now on, the family fortune is all ours!"
But they didn't know that at that very second, a piercing system alert blared in my mind:
[Super Tsunami Generating. Countdown: 5 days.]
The apocalypse was real after all.
I seized the moment to bind with the Deep-Sea Fortress System, drained the family's entire assets, and went on a manic hoarding spree.
Five days later, hundred-meter-tall waves ripped the coastline apart.
Watching on the monitor as my parents and brother knelt outside the alloy door, tearing at each other, banging their heads bloody as they begged me to open up,
I cut into a perfectly seared, juicy steak and asked softly into the mic:
"Didn't you say the tsunami was a lie? So why are you crying now?"

I lost my memory.
When I woke up, my biological parents and aloof wife were fussing over the fake young master's bedside.
I, the real young master who had just awakened from a coma, only received my wife's cold command: "Sebastian needs a blood transfusion. Go donate."
Looking at the scars on my wrists from her suicide attempt, my amnesiac mind only felt absurdity.
I calmly donated blood, then turned and signed the divorce papers, leaving with nothing, and unilaterally published a notice severing all ties with my family.
Later, the fake young master's conspiracy was exposed. My arrogant female CEO wife destroyed her entire family, flew halfway around the world overnight, and knelt at the airport, tears streaming down her face, begging me to come home.
I, however, took the hand of a haired female professor and looked at her coldly: " Sorry, I already have a partner ."

I chose to retire at my peak for Alexander.
But twenty minutes before our wedding started, he decided to help his childhood sweetheart move, leaving me alone at the venue.
He said, "Sophia, you're strong enough; you don't need anyone to protect you."
So I tossed my veil aside and called off the wedding.
Alexander thought I'd come crawling back, even threatened to blacklist me.
But he didn't know that as I was leaving the wedding, my former coach suddenly called out to me, asking if I wanted to chase that championship again.

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

I married a rapist.
After the wedding, I played the perfect wife. I always took off my makeup after he fell asleep, and reapplied it before he woke up.
My husband loved showing off on his livestream, bragging that women should know their place.
One viewer sent a warning in the chat:
[Run, man. Only vengeful spirits do their makeup in the middle of the night—when their resentment is strongest, the makeup lasts longer!]
I covered my face and grinned wickedly.
Oops, forgot concealer. My corpse marks are showing.

In their eyes, I’m a limping janitor who can’t even hold a cup of hot coffee steady.
The head of security can grind his polished boot on my fingers whenever he wants. The gorgeous CEO looks at me with pure disgust for a coward. Even the front desk girl can yell at me as she pleases.
I sprawl on the carpet like an old dog—stuttering, shrinking, obedient.
But they don’t know that if I wanted to, snapping their necks would take only 0.6 seconds.
Three years ago, I was the Seventh Fleet’s sharpest one-man operator. To uncover a cross-border money-laundering network worth tens of billions, I faked my death and lay low inside this filthy corporate empire, mopping floors for three years.
Until today—when that arrogant European mafia titan dropped to his knees in front of my dirty mop bucket, in full view of the entire company.
That’s when I knew.
Three years of disguise were finally about to be torn apart.

"I need an accident—one that looks fatal," I said calmly into the encrypted phone. "It's the only way to escape him."
Rumors swirl that this man—the underworld boss who controls half of Europe’s shadow economy—loves me beyond reason.
They say he defied his entire family for me. That this ruthless killer laid down his weapons just to cook me a meal.
For years, he made the world believe I was his one weakness—and even I almost believed it.
But instinct in a life-or-death moment doesn’t lie.
When bullets shattered the car window, he yanked the steering wheel on reflex—shielding my adopted sister in the passenger seat while leaving me, his wife, fully exposed to the hail of gunfire.
As I lay bleeding, desperately trying to protect our unborn child… he was busy cradling her in his arms.
While I endured everything for our future, he signed over the estate—the one he promised would be our retire place—to that lying sister.
That’s when I knew: some loves are just performances for the living.
So I gave him exactly what he wanted.
I left behind a positive pregnancy test—six weeks along—and drove straight into the deep ocean, staging the most brutal finale right before his eyes.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

In my previous life, when the extreme cold apocalypse arrived, I was drained of all value and heartlessly kicked into an ice pit by my ex-girlfriend.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the time before the apocalypse erupted!

On my phone screen, my girlfriend was still arrogantly issuing ultimatums: "If you don't deliver that eight-thousand-dollar Chanel bag to me today, don't even think about touching me ever again!"

I sneered coldly, decisively blocking this gold-digger who was prepared to devour me alive on all platforms. Then I immediately unlocked the seven-million-dollar trust fund my grandfather had left me and went on a shopping spree for the city's top-tier extreme survival supplies!

A few hours later, an unprecedented extreme polar vortex swept across North America.

When my ex-girlfriend and street thugs frantically pounded on my half-meter-thick reinforced steel blast door, what greeted them wasn't just the aroma of fireplace-grilled steak, but also me and my hardcore parents holding heavy firearms.

To avenge his beloved, my husband locked me—pregnant—in a dog cage and sank it into the icy lake outside our house.
"Wendy spent ten minutes in the water. You'll stay in there for two days."
I screamed and pleaded, "I'm not lying! I really am pregnant! Please!"
But he towered over me, his eyes full of disgust. "You'll say anything to avoid punishment—even a lie like this?"
As the iron cage sank, the freezing water swallowed me—and took the unborn child with it.
Two days later, he had the cage hauled up, waiting for me to beg Wendy for forgiveness.
But all that was left inside was a curled, lifeless body, my dress soaked in vivid red.
I hovered above, watching coldly as he clung to my corpse, howling like a madman.
Eric, why are you crying?
Isn't this what you wanted?

In my previous life, an extreme cold apocalypse descended.

I risked my life nine times over to evolve into a high-tier Ice Plains Wolf, and just to find a piece of meat to keep my fiancée alive, I frantically tore apart wild beasts in the snow. Yet I was betrayed by her and her lover—they cut out my heart with an ice blade!

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn half a month before the apocalypse!

Time was running out. To awaken the highest tier of beast-human form, I needed an enormous amount of meat to provide energy.

Sports cars? Ocean-view villas? Billions in assets? I wanted none of it!

I immediately dumped my manipulative fiancée, liquidated all my assets into cash, bought a fully enclosed fortified meat processing plant, and frantically stockpiled hundreds of thousands of tons of high-calorie raw meat!

The extreme cold arrived as expected, turning the entire city into a frozen hellscape.

The scumbag pair who betrayed me in my previous life now knelt outside my impregnable airlock door, crying pitifully and begging me for scraps.

I stepped out of my fortress and looked down at them with claws sharp enough to tear through steel:

"Want meat? Go to hell and eat dirt!"

Everyone knows my fiancé, Alex, is the kind of madman who would call off a billion-dollar merger just for me.
For years, he convinced the world I was his one and only, risking the wrath of the board just to keep me by his side.
But that kind of devotion is mostly for show.
In reality, he already had a legal wife—and a baby on the way, carrying his blood.
When I learned the truth, I went straight to my best friend.
"Maya, help me stage a car accident. One where the body can't be identified," I said calmly. "It's the only way I can truly escape Alex."
The night I disappeared, he spent hours kneeling by the burned-out wreck.
He destroyed a high-profile marriage alliance, drove his pregnant wife to madness, and became a complete wreck himself.
But when he finally found me—
He realized I didn't love him anymore.

I’m in the final stages of stomach cancer. My son just passed away yesterday.
At his funeral, my ex-husband barged in, pointed at our son’s headstone, and accused me of doing anything for attention—even putting on a show like this.
He told me to get lost, to stay far away from the woman he really loves.
So I did exactly as he wanted.
I took my son’s ashes and disappeared into the endless sea.
But now, when I’m truly at death’s door, that same man who once hated me with everything he had is tearing the hospital apart, desperate to save me.
Don’t bother, Lucian.
If there’s a next life, let’s never meet again.

At the celebration party, everyone was egging them on.
To kiss ass with the so-called "investor's daughter," James, started playing some flirty card game with Vivian right in front of me, feeding her chips and making out.
I stood in the corner holding his jacket like some pathetic coat-check girl.
When I confronted him, James looked pissed. "Sophie, it's just an act! Vivian's got the company by the balls—don't be so damn difficult!"
I laughed.
He had no idea that the "Vivian" he was desperately sucking up to was nothing but a fraud riding someone else's coattails.
And the real person holding his fate, the one who'd greenlit his precious S-tier project? That was me—the wife he called "completely useless."
The day after our divorce, I pulled the plug on all of James's funding.
He went ballistic trying to meet with the mysterious investor. When the doors opened, I was sitting at the head of the table. Right in front of him, I fed that S-tier project proposal into the shredder:
"James, this deal? I'm out."

When I was rushed to the ER with food poisoning, I heard the doctor shout, "We need to pump her stomach, now!"
But my mother, Catherine, calmly stopped the doctor's hand.
"No hurry," she said coldly. "Give her a sedative first."
My brother Austin panicked. "Mom! If you don't detox her, she could die!"
But my mother's voice was ruthless, low and sharp:
"If she dies, she dies. As long as her uterus is still warm, that's all that matters."
"Did you forget our plan? Sarah's transplant surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. If Elena wakes up now, what if she runs away?"
"Our priority is keeping her uterus safe for Sarah—not saving her life."
In that moment, the burn in my stomach was nothing compared to the chill in my heart.
I forced my eyes open and saw my brother—the one who'd always protected me—hesitate for a moment, then slowly let go of my hand.
"...Okay. You're right, Mom. Saving Sarah comes first."
The moment I closed my eyes, I made a decision: If I survived, this life would never belong to this family again.

On the seventh wedding anniversary, I woke up in the lounge and found a big word "BITCH" sprayed with red paint on my chest.
The culprit, holding a spray-paint can, had a naive-looking smile on her face and said, "I'm doing you a favor. Your white outfit's way too boring."
I was just about to take action when my husband rushed in to protect her, frowning and scolding me: "She's just a little girl; she doesn't know any better. Do you have to be so petty?"
At this moment, looking at the man in front of me who had risen because of my family's influence, I suddenly laughed.
He probably forgot who had given him this overwhelming wealth.
I unscrewed the red-tipped thick paint pen and walked step by step towards the trembling girl.
"Your face is boring, too. Let me do you a favor."
As for my husband?
I'll make him know that without me, he's worse than a dog.

I was driving my dad's luxury car to pick up a friend when his secretary stopped me on the spot.
She mistook me for the lover who had sex with my dad in his office.
So she used car theft as an excuse to drag me into the basement, beat me up, and took nude photos of me.
When my dad found out, he asked me to apologize to her.
That's when I realized that in his eyes, his reputation mattered more than his own daughter.
If that's the case, he doesn't need to be the figurehead CEO anymore.

The late night after my boyfriend left for his business trip, I received a strange call.
"Fresh delivery, hurry down to get it. If you wait too long, your meat will be picked clean."
I stubbed my toe and winced, telling him to just leave it outside my apartment door.
He hesitated but agreed.
Less than ten minutes later, my phone rang again. His voice was impatient, urging me to come down immediately.
I was about to respond when a cold sweat broke out on my back.
Outside the door was a busy main road—where were the raccoons?
And why was he waiting for me downstairs for ten minutes?
What sent chills down my spine was...
I suddenly remembered that I hadn't ordered any fresh groceries this week.
So who was the man standing downstairs, using excuses to trick me into coming down?

On my twenty-fourth birthday, my grandfather dropped the bombshell: I was an orphan.
After learning about my biological family, I decided to do something nice. I bought a limited-edition sports car as a gift for the father I had never met.
But at the dealership, I was publicly humiliated by my brother's mistress.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I called my brother.
When he arrived, it was only to back her up.
"This birthmark is ugly; let me help you get rid of it."
My own brother used a cigar to burn off the birthmark behind my ear and had my suffering broadcast on the mall's LED screen.
"Listen, if anyone dares to treat this woman’s injuries, I’ll have their license revoked in this city for good!"
But he didn’t know that the grandfather who raised me was someone no one in this city could even dream of looking up to.
When my grandfather arrived with a top-notch medical team and armed mercenaries, sealing off the entire building, my arrogant brother finally realized his mistake.

On the first day of the zombie outbreak, my two roommates and I made a crazy decision: before the banking system crashed, we'd take out dozens of online loans and high-limit credit cards!
"Since it's the end of the world, who the hell cares about credit scores? Borrow money! Buy out the supermarket! We don't have to pay it back anyway!"
We smashed through walls, welded the security door shut, and used millions of dollars worth of supplies to build a makeshift shelter . We thought we could survive this catastrophe.
Until that day, in a moment of madness, I rescued a pregnant stranger right under the zombies' noses.
I forgot that in the apocalypse, the smell of amniotic fluid and blood is the ultimate death warrant that attracts monsters from the entire city…

My wife is the city's renowned "Community Angel." She donates every single cent of her high salary to the poor, all to buy herself a saintly reputation.
Meanwhile, as her husband, I spend my days rolling beneath cars in a factory, covered in grease, juggling four credit cards just to keep our large family afloat.
My parents-in-law survive on the expensive, imported life-saving meds I pay for, yet they constantly mock me for being a powerless nobody;
My own children attend private schools on my dime, only to look at me with disgust and call me an embarrassment;
And my wife? Dressed in her high-end couture, she looks down at me and condescendingly urges, "For the sake of the poor children, why don't you get another part-time job and just endure it a little longer?"
Looking at this den of parasites sucking the life out of me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me.
I didn't argue. I silently put away my overdue bills, packed my bags, and completely vanished from this twisted household.
Later, at the highly anticipated Annual Charity Gala, in front of the entire city, I presented her with an ultimate "gift"—

As the zombie with half its face rotten lunged at my throat, an utterly absurd thought popped into my head. Instinctively, I raised the supermarket barcode scanner in my hand and aimed it at its face.

"Beep—Target: Level 1 Mutant Infected Person. Estimated Recovery Value: Equivalent to half a bottle of mineral water."

Who would have thought that in this cannibalistic apocalypse, these bloodthirsty monsters who feel no pain and only know how to kill could actually be forcibly converted into cash by the system?!

From that day on, I completely trampled the laws of this broken world under my feet.

While others were killing each other in the ruins for half a piece of moldy bread, I was comfortably sitting in my "Red Lion" supermarket, doing big business with a zombie whose head I had smashed in half.

Two bags of flour, I traded for a box of antibiotics; three boxes of sausages, and it led a zombie squad to the police station to empty my armory. As long as I can afford it, these tireless monsters are my most loyal laborers.

A vicious thug drove a bulldozer and smashed through my wall, threatening to chop up the men and take the women away. I didn't even draw my gun; I just yelled at the door, "Kill these scumbags, and all twenty kilograms of bacon are yours!" The next second, an army of zombies burst through the window and tore the thugs to pieces in an instant.

The arrogant leader of the survivor base, driving five hundred refugees to act as human shields, attempted to use moral blackmail to force me to hand over supplies? I sneered and sounded the air raid siren, awakening the horde of zombies throughout the city. I sat in front of the monitor, sipping hot tea, watching her, who was once so invincible, be completely swallowed by the monsters, as if watching a play.

Trying to take over my territory? First, ask my paid zombie bodyguards outside if they'll allow it!

Through a crazy "equivalent exchange" strategy, I transformed a run-down supermarket into an impregnable steel fortress that even regular troops couldn't break into.

Until that day, the military defenses completely collapsed. Seven four-meter-tall, city-destroying "tyrants" led a super horde of 150,000 zombies to the city's gates! With only sixty seconds left on the countdown to the tactical nuclear missile, the arrogant military commander, his eyes red with tears, begged me to intervene and save the city.

I was trapped underground by seven tyrants, chewing on the last piece of chocolate my zombie underling had left me before he died, and pressed the system's "Ultimate Equivalence".

The system asked me if I was willing to trade my life for absolute control over 150,000 mutants in the entire city.

I smiled and said, "Deal."

When the white light of the nuclear explosion dissipated, and the entire city was reduced to ruins, everyone assumed I was gone without a trace. But I, leaning against the intact rooftop of the fortress, looked down at the tyrant who humbly submitted to me, my eyes gleaming with a dark golden light.

In this lawless hell, my rules are the only ironclad law!

Just because my face was severely burned in the fire, a woman pointed her finger at me, screaming and falsely accusing me of molesting her son to the whole society.
She incited online violence, ruining my livelihood; she distorted the truth, bringing in corrupt police officers who tortured me to the point of near death.
She thought she could extort some unexpected money.
But she had no idea that my severe burns were because I saved the governor in the fire!

At the family dinner, a Wall Street rising star flaunted his power in front of me, boasting that he was the chief agent of the "Godfather of the Underworld."
My ex-wife's family fawned over me like dogs, pointing their fingers at me and taunting, "You spineless, gigolo trash, you're not even worthy to carry Mr. Victor's shoes!"
Victor, even more smug, turned on speakerphone, trying to use my privileges to curry favor with my wife.
I stood silently in the corner, coldly pressing a blood-red command: [Permanently Delete Account].
The next second, the system's cold pronouncement came through his phone: "Warning, you have overstepped your authority and have been banned across the entire network!"
The room fell silent instantly.
They had no idea that I was the true Godfather, the one who controlled a multi-billion dollar empire and ruled the Western underworld!

I have a cursed gift—
I can hear the voices of antiques.
A blackened silver spoon screams.
A rusted pocket watch groans.
And at London’s most exclusive blind auction, when that so-called million-pound royal jewelry box encrusted with rubies and sapphires was rolled onto the stage, my mind went completely silent.
Those dozens of dazzling gemstones were all fake glass that could not speak.
Instead, from a brass compartment hidden in the very bottom of the box came an agonized roar:
“Get me out of here… now…”
I smiled.
Europe’s number-one appraiser?
Today I’d show him what it really meant to listen to all things.

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

A zombie outbreak occurred, and my brother and I were both reborn ten minutes before the disaster struck.
This time, he seized the initiative, stealing the two high-level god-tier abilities, [Flame] and [Hardening], and casually pushed me out of the security door, locking me in the zombie-infested corridor.
Through the security door, he arrogantly declared, "In my past life, you always stood in front of me; in this life, I'll take the mark of survival."
In his eyes, the [Tracking] and [Preset] abilities the system assigned me were nothing but useless pieces of paper.
He thought I would die a horde of zombies.
But he didn't know that in the hands of a top hunter, seemingly useless skills could weave a hellish web that made life unbearable and death unthinkable.