125 Book(s) Related to mieruko chan chapter 45

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…

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!

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.

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.

Five years ago, on our wedding day, my fiancée Vivian was in the bridal suite fucking my best man.
Five years later, I returned to New York with my wife—the most powerful Mafia matriarch in Naples. At Atelier Milano, Brandon, the same "best man" who betrayed me, fawned over my custom-tailored suit, groveling to the staff about how desperately he wanted to meet the legendary Mr. Salvatore.
He had no idea...
The man he'd once written off as a pathetic loser was the very person he was now begging to impress.

To help his life-saving benefactor, he personally pressed a pregnant me on the operating table to draw bone marrow.
I cried and begged him, "James, I'm pregnant. It's your child. Don't do this to me..."
But he had a look of disgust in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you'd lie about something like that just to get out of helping Mandy?"
Until there was a river of blood in the operating room and that unformed child turned into a pool of bloody water, he finally panicked.
Later, when he knew that the person who saved him in the fire ten years ago was actually me, he held my ashes and knelt outside the operating room for a full three days.

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

On our sixth anniversary, instead of a gift, my husband Liam video-called me while holding his first love, Sophia.
On screen, that woman proudly waved a positive pregnancy test while Liam sneered at me: "Sophia got pregnant on the first try. Proves your body's the problem, not mine!"
Clutching my own newly confirmed pregnancy report, my heart turned to ice. I decided to file for divorce.
But at the celebratory party Liam threw for Sophia, I was pushed to the ground—blood staining my dress.
When I begged for help, Liam coldly looked away: "Stop faking. It's just period cramps. Don't ruin the party."

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

My brother was jealous after I won a $50 million lottery jackpot, so he tricked me into believing an extreme ice-age apocalypse was coming.
Because I trusted him, I spent every last dollar my parents and I had—fortifying the house and stockpiling supplies.
Two weeks later, he told me that there was no coming apocalypse. It had all been a lie.
Just when I was drowning in despair, hail started falling in the middle of summer.
The deep freeze apocalypse had really begun.

After accidentally traveling to the post-apocalyptic wasteland, I treated the human leader as a brother, continuously supplying him with modern resources.

Who knew he would conspire with the beastman chieftain to kill me, just to prevent me from rescuing others.

But what he didn't know was that I could travel back to the modern world.

While those two leaders of the wasteland thought themselves invincible...

I healed my wounds, and returned to the wasteland with military hardware and food, storming back to their base!

You want my life?

Then pay for it with your own!

At the dinner party, Alexander had his arm around my waist, chatting and laughing with clients in German.
I was about to tell him the happy news that I was pregnant.
He was tender and affectionate in front of me, kissing my cheek from time to time.
But they didn't know my German was fluent enough to understand every dirty detail.
Like right now, I heard him bragging to the client about how wild things got last night with his stepsister Lillian.

I'm a blind girl, and I've always been close with the old lady living next door.
One day, I caught the smell of blood coming from her apartment.
Worried something had happened to her, I pushed her door open—and instantly realized my mistake.
I had walked right into a murder scene.
The killer was still there.
I had to take a chance.
Betting that my pale, sightless eyes could fool those blood-crazed ones.
I stepped into the blood-soaked room, smiled toward where the body lay, and called out,
"Ma'am, the store has oranges on sale—I brought some over for you..."

When the apocalyptic red rain fell, my brother and I both awakened spatial abilities.

He awakened a space as vast as a mansion and was hailed by the entire family as their savior.

While I only awakened a "suitcase" and was ruthlessly drained of all my assets by my parents to support my brother, then kicked out of the house.

They mocked me cruelly: "We don't keep deadweights. Go wait for death in the 70-degree furnace outside!"

What they didn't know was that my brother's space had no preservation function—his stockpile of premium ingredients would soon rot into a pile of maggot-infested meat.

But my suitcase had upgrade attributes!

While they fought each other over a sip of putrid green water in the 200-degree hellscape,

I sat in the "Eden" I had created, watching herds of cattle and sheep, drinking ice-cold fresh milk.

My fiancé accused me of not caring about family.
To appease him, I planned a family vacation.
But the night before we left, he informed me that he'd given my first-class seat to his childhood sweetheart.
And me? He stuck me in coach on a flight flagged for possible terror threats.
Everyone in his family thought I should just go along with it.
That was the moment I woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and booked myself a trip to Hawaii instead.
Then I turned off my phone and let them sweat over the hotel bill.
It wasn't until their reservation got canceled that they finally started to panic.

My fiancée accused me of not caring about family.
To make it up to her, I planned a luxury vacation for all of us.
But the night before we left, she told me she'd given my first-class seat to her childhood best friend.
Instead, she booked me a seat in economy—on a flight with a recent terror threat advisory.
The whole family thought I should just go along with it.
That's when I finally woke up.
I tore up the itinerary and rerouted to Hawaii instead.
I turned off my phone, leaving them to deal with the $20,000 bill.
It wasn't until their hotel reservations got canceled that they started to panic.

"Strip her naked and throw her in a dog cage."
When Vincent Sterling gave the order, Serena clutched her stomach in despair: "I'm carrying your baby!"
Vincent just lit a cigarette, watching coldly as the bodyguard’s boot slammed into her belly. "Get rid of it. I don't want anything filthy."
That night, to avenge his childhood sweetheart, Vincent personally killed his own flesh and blood, trampling his wife—whom he had loved for ten years—into the mud.
Later, the truth came to light.
The so-called "infidelity videos" are AI-generated, and the manipulative woman's pain is self-perpetuated.
Seeing the signed divorce agreement and the blood-stained ring, the arrogant Vincent went completely mad.
He knelt in the pouring rain for three days and nights, begging her to come back.
This time, Serena sat in her wheelchair, gazing down at him with an icy, detached gaze.
"Vincent, I don't hate you, but I hate you for being filthy."

On my first day as an intern at the zoo, the old director assigned us animals to care for.
In my previous life, my classmate Jack chose the easy-to-care-for African elephant, while I was forced to take on the brutal Siberian tiger.
A month later, the apocalypse struck, and the Siberian tiger successfully evolved, leading me to escape the encirclement.
Jack's elephant, however, couldn't outrun the mutated species and was torn to pieces. Driven
by jealousy, the surviving Jack incited a mob to brutally beat me and the giant tiger to death, dismembering and cannibalizing us.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the animals were assigned.
Jack had already taken the Siberian tiger, pushing the elephant to me, and I knew he had also been reborn.
But what he didn't know was that the Siberian tiger he had devoured was also reborn with me.

My twin brother and I were reborn at the same time.
In our previous life, he kicked me into the borderland overrun by monsters, while he went to enjoy himself in Radiant City, only to be exiled for his incompetence.
I reversed my healing power into killing techniques, building humanity's second-largest power amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, only to be sacrificed in his jealousy, devoured alive by demons for seven days and seven nights.
This time, the carriage bound for the border stopped before me, and without hesitation, he pushed me toward the airship to Radiant City, eager to go to the border as the "savior."
Watching his impatient back, I almost burst out laughing.
Go, my foolish brother.
Do you think those bloodthirsty thugs of Shattered Stone Fortress would recognize you as their king without my self-created "healing backlash" in hell?
In this life, you'll stay in the hell you chose, and watch how I use healing magic to give this desperate world a "physical salvation"!

The apocalypse arrives, rain stops worldwide, outdoor temperatures soar to 60 degrees Celsius, and everyone fights and loses their humanity over a single drop of water.
But I gave away dozens of cases of bottled water that I had stockpiled at home to my neighbors downstairs for free.
People laughed at my overflowing compassion; my wicked ex even hoarded two tons of water, waiting to see me thirsty and begging her on my knees like a dog.
But what they didn't know was that I didn't need water at all.
Because I'm not human.

On the eve of the World Championship, my head coach's wife drugged me.
She personally destroyed my throwing arm and gave my starting jersey to her new substitute lover.
Even to "maintain the body" for that cheater, she disregarded my life and forcibly drained 1200 ml of my rare blood type.
She confidently declared, "In less than three days, he'll be crawling back to me like a dog."
I didn't make a scene; I calmly signed the divorce papers and dialed the number of that billionaire heiress.
Later, her cheating lover was disgraced and kicked out of the team.
She traveled halfway around the world, knelt at my wedding, and plunged a knife into her chest, begging me to come back.
I just coldly watched the security guards drag her away:
"Hurry up, don't dirty my wife's estate."

Fifteen days after my death, Morningstar Town was annihilated.
What destroyed this steel fortress wasn't the tens of thousands of zombies outside, but three insignificant things:
a bottle of whiskey used to bribe the security guards; half a can of wasted beef beans; and, my wife .
The townspeople, finding my "Laws of Survival" too harsh, strangled me to gain "freedom."
So I floated in the sky, watching them tear apart the safety net, watching them boil their neighbors in hunger, watching the very foundations of humanity crumble into dust.
The show began.

In the apocalypse, during my escape, I awakened a useless superpower: reset .
My girlfriend, despising me as a burden who only creates junk, conspired with the mercenary captain to kick me into a horde of zombies.
She had planned everything, except for one thing.
My superpower wasn't "creating junk," but a conceptual-level divine skill !
A zombie bites my heart? Reset my body's state, instantly revived!
A rabid mutant attacks? Reset its hunger nerve, making it instantly kneel like a dog!
I single-handedly fought my way through the zombie horde and knocked on the shelter's door.
Beside the captain's shattered neck, I held my desperately begging ex-girlfriend upside down, smiling as I suspended her directly above the zombie horde.
"You were right, useless people should be zombie food. Now, it's your turn to prove your worth."
Then, I released her.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

I was dying. To buy myself just a few more days, I had no choice but to sell my body for medicine money.
I never expected the man who bought me was Michael. My ex-husband.
He threw the cash in my face, humiliated me, forced me through every degradation he could think of.
All because he hated me for leaving when he was critically ill.
What he never knew was that, the heart beating in his chest…
Was mine.

A wealthy socialite slapped me hard across the face in the emergency room.
What she didn't know was that I was actually a specially appointed expert ranked number one in the world in cardiac surgery. What
she didn't know even more was that three hours later, I would be holding the scalpel, deciding the life or death of the head of her entire family.
When the most authoritative hospital director in New York, accompanied by a group of experts, stumbled into the emergency room, sweating profusely and bowing to me, this socialite's dream of a life of luxury was shattered completely.

The day the IVF succeeded was when I realized Michael had deceived me all along.
He had only used me as a surrogate for my sister.
When I confronted him, he tested me, forcing me to kill someone. "Afraid to pull the trigger? Doesn't seem like my kind of woman," he sneered.
I tried to run, but he caught me.
He kept me locked away, forced me to eat foods I was allergic to until I needed my stomach pumped, and chained me to the bed while he went off with her.
I cried until I had no tears left—and finally learned how to hold a gun.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

This was the 99th time Sabrina stood me up for our wedding appointment.
Just as I was leaving, I got a text from that new male student of hers—attached was a photo of him shirtless, wrapped around her sleeping form with a caption that screamed pure provocation:
[If you really loved her, you wouldn't trap her with marriage. Can't you see she doesn't want this?]
When she finally picked up my call, her tone was beyond annoyed.
"Colin's having a meltdown over mixing the wrong colors, and if this piece gets ruined, it's on you. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper—we'll do it another time."
She had no idea that, thanks to Colin "accidentally" spilling that cheap turpentine, my severe asthma was raging. Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass dipped in blood.
And that "another time" she mentioned? It was never going to happen.
After hanging up, I calmly tossed the wedding ring I'd bought for her.
Then I turned and took the groom's suit from the senior who'd had a crush on me for seven years.

On a stormy night, a horrific crash unfolded on the overpass. The victim was brought to the city forensic center.
My husband, Ethan, slipped on his gloves and expertly examined my shattered body, his voice detached. "Record this: Female, approximately twenty-five years old, suffered severe trauma before death."
His assistant sighed. "That's rough. Not a single family member showed up."
Just then, the assistant slid a misshapen silver band off my mud-streaked finger.
"Sir, this ring... isn't it identical to the one you keep in your desk drawer?"
With a sharp clatter, the scalpel slipped from Ethan's hand and hit the floor.

I loved Lia Rockefeller for ten years, and it cost me everything.
When she said the cheerleaders were ganging up on her, I charged in and took the punches for her.
When she cried that her stepsister would ruin her at Yale, I tore up my acceptance letter right then and there.
When she held me tight in the middle of the night and whispered, "I'm so lucky to have you"—I thought it meant forever.
Three months later, I overheard her laughing in the locker room—laughing at me.
"Ian's like a lapdog. So easy to play. Now that Yale spot's open, Emmett can go with me instead."
The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces? Just tools to control me—to keep me loyal while she slept with her side piece.
She thought I'd still take a punch for her, even with a broken nose.
She thought I'd never wake up.
I'm awake now.
In her stepsister Serena's bed.

When the apocalypse struck, my brother Leo didn't hesitate to choose the offshore sanctuary.
In our past life, faced with a choice between a powerful inland warlord commanding a massive army and a leader clinging to a solitary island, Leo snatched up the first option.
But when a zombie horde overran the mainland and defenses collapsed, he fled to my island for refuge.
Jealous of how well I was surviving the end of the world, he and our parents knocked me unconscious in the dead of night and threw me into the ocean to drown.
Now that I've been reborn, Leo immediately took our parents to the maritime base, leaving the "dangerous" mainland to me.
He thinks the ocean is a natural barrier that guarantees his safety, that he can sit back and relax while the world burns.
But there's one thing he doesn't know.
Zombies aren't just static, mindless walking dead—they evolve.
And when they do, that offshore sanctuary will become a floating hell with no way out.

In the wasteland era, the soil is dead. Whoever can grow food is king.
In my last life, my brother gave me the spore we had nearly died to get, and the two of us awakened plant-growing powers together.
But every grain he grew was full and perfect, and the leader placed him on a pedestal; everything I grew was poisonous, and I was mercilessly cast out as worthless.
It wasn't until I died that I learned the truth: his power was never plant-growing, but transfer.
As long as he had eaten the spore, he could transfer away all the crops I grew.
When I got a second chance, I returned to the very day my so-called brother tried to shove the spore into my mouth.
This time, I slammed into him, knocked the spore to the ground, and crushed it under my foot.

After Ava lost her voice in a car crash, my brother fled the country overnight.
My parents begged me to take his place and honor the engagement.
For three years, I stayed by her side. I took care of her, helped her through rehab, and waited for the day she could finally speak again.
But at our wedding, my brother came back to stop it.
In front of everyone, my parents pressured me to step aside. "You were only filling in for Ethan in the first place. Now that he's back, it's time to give his fiancée back."
Ava stopped walking toward me and, without a second thought, ran straight into my brother's arms.
Later, she tried to smooth things over in private. She said it was only to test my brother's intentions, and promised that in the end, she would still marry me.
She thought I'd stay right where I was, like I had for the past three years, waiting for scraps.
What she didn't know was that I had already accepted the Godfather's secret appointment. That very night, I boarded a helicopter bound for the North District.
Now that the man she never got over was back, it was time for me to claim the underground empire that belonged to me.

Nine months pregnant and about to give birth, my husband Zane locked me in the wine cellar.
All because his widowed business partner, Elena, was also giving birth today.
"You almost made Elena go into labor early. You need to think about what you've done."
Agonizing contractions wracked my body. I dropped to my knees, begging him, "Zane, please─the baby is coming now! He will die!"
He just shoved me down the cold stone steps, his eyes icy cold.
"Stop lying! Your due date isn't today. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"
"Tonight, only Elena's safety matters. You'll stay here until you admit you were wrong!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, snuffing out the last bit of hope I had left.
Hours later, Zane was cradling Elena's newborn son, calling the maid.
"Elena had a boy. I couldn't be happier. Let my wife out—I'm willing to forgive her little tantrum today."
But on the other end of the phone, the maid was sobbing.
"Sir... your wife and the baby... they're already gone."

My henchman, drunk, accidentally revealed he was a reincarnated individual, claiming that the apocalypse would arrive in nine days and he would kill me to seize all my wealth.
I laughed.
I'd been a pirate king for ten years; what storms hadn't I weathered?
I not only emptied his treasure chest that he considered his for the taking overnight, but also used his money to buy up all the survival supplies in the city.
When the apocalypse truly arrived, he could only kneel on the zombie-infested shore, watching helplessly as I sailed towards the absolutely safe island paradise.