Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 12

The worst part is that it was the first book I have ever written with so many plot holes that more than thirty years later the readers still bash me to death on the internet for it. I could practically hear the echo of their angry comments and reviews.

Wait!

There was a forgotten one who had given birth to nine but after two million words I dropped it. A half-baked idea that never saw the light of day.

I stared up at the ceiling and wondered dejectedly about this situation, luckily the original owner had some cash to afford a decent hospital and old family connections.

This room was all mine, spacious and though it seemed simple, one can see that it was a VIP room.

Damn it!

I just wanted to die and see what was on the other side finally in peace. Didn’t I work hard enough?

Fifty-one books, over a hundred million words, I even supported the poor and needy! I donated anonymously to several charities and volunteered at the local soup kitchen every Christmas. And what were my results? heh.

Karma, where are you when I need you?

Come and kill me off.

This is my second life and once again I had been reborn in a damn book!

Wait, is it because I dug too many plot holes for people and they collectively cursed me to death? Is that even possible?

It was a fantasy! I repeat IT WAS A FANTASY!

A dark fantasy! With some messed up themes.

I even wrote trigger warnings! At the beginning of each chapter, warning my readers about the potentially disturbing content that followed.

I understand that they were few who had suffered from anxieties but it was not my fault!

Gritting my teeth I turned my head and looked at the little parasite that made my nether regions ache to death, I swear I was torn open, it felt like my insides wanted to fall out, no joke!

Looking away from the little parasite I scanned the room, even though this character was used to death she still had a good foundation, I remember that in the unpublished parts, she was the underdog and was the heroine in the end. Unfortunately, I who replaced her wanted to beat myself to a pulp because her growth was like from zero to hell mode. How the hell was I supposed to go from zero to hero in this crazy world?

Worse I now had excess baggage. A tiny, screaming, utterly dependent little thing. I mean it was not annoying presently but still.

I laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

My back ached, my privates felt like it was torn open, my core was continuing to contract and I could feel the exhaustion pulling me under. Sleep was a siren song, promising oblivion but I could not yet.

Alright, I am an old lady in this body ok, I have experience!

I gave birth, I can raise the little parasite well, now, I wonder if I simply say: ‘fuck the lot,’ if I’ll be strangled by the rules of the world?

My dumb self had written over three thousand chapters with over five million words so the world had to have to commonly know things I am good at digging for the readers. My own creation was now my prison.

Now as the most miserable character in The book with ‘luggage’ I have to use many of the grey areas I had hidden.

Sigh, I just really cant get over the fact I died and was dragged into a book and damn hell mode at that.

Why? Just…why?

Just tell me why? I needed answers, even if they were nonsensical.

Ok, call down and recount everything I could from scratch, knowing this will help me get through this plot hole riddled book and raise my ‘excess baggage’ as small as it is. Knowledge was power, and I needed to arm myself for the challenges ahead.

Sigh. I closed my eyes, focusing on the details, the timeline, anything that could help survive.

My name is Vanity with a foreign Michaels surname, using the Mi here in the country.

I am a generational Asian with origins in the Caribbean. My fifth grandmother moved here to study with her husband, later they gave birth to their only child and that child was raised for a while in this country and was later sent to the Caribbean to further be raised until he was fifteen and brought back. Later he married a girl from the same island and gave birth to their only child a daughter. Each of them had single children marrying those from the island and birthing from the island until my grandmother and now me, my mother unfortunately was born in China. A complex heritage that felt both familiar and distant.

My father is from the island, and my mother here, with connections to a family in this country.

They were not a wealthy family but they were stable with a few connections. Middle-class, comfortable, and utterly unremarkable.

Heh, why did I have to add so much about my country I tell you?

I like this character and felt that it would be my last book, I wanted to be remembered in some way before I died even though I started it as among my first, but I had changed her name to another.

That first part was over three million words and instead of the original owners father published being from my country, but decided on Burundi because it had a similar lettering and I had found it interesting.

He was the same cheating greedy male who disliked his first daughter, the same male who allowed his damn daughter who I had always thought was the niece to take my man.

He was—

I paused, I had just given birth and must shelf such thoughts before I have complications.

To make this short, I had been writing it off and on for most my writing career. Unfortunately, I lived to regret it.

Whatever force brought me here but I smiled happily knowing I had my own secret.

Even then I could not help but to continue feeling miserable.

Now let’s further go over the memory.

The child I gave birth to, yeh the father I have no idea.

I paused for a moment trying my best to remain calm, I mean, no pressure. My original island we did not pressure our women about marriage anyway.

Even if I am pressured, I wouldn’t bow my head but the problem is that I am already shackled to some dude the body couldn’t remember and it seems that I couldn’t remember that part.

What the hell!

Why?

What stupid original was this?!

You slept with someone without knowing who they were? Ahhhhh.. What a dummy!

Was she desperate?

The memory is not even working properly.

Well, throw the original owner under the bus, anyway I am not—

Fragments flashed by, almost making me spit blood from shock. Distorted images, fleeting sensations.

In the original book I wrote I only had two characters that basically took away the original owner’s men, now it seems that more plotholes but some are beneficial to me.

Eh? I’m not eighteen?

I am actually thirty-two?

I patted my chest and smiled thinking many things were easier. I looked at the almond toned skin, I reached up and touched the thick hair which fell now to below my small breast now heavy with milk.

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 11

Rebirth

“Nurse!… get the blood, stat! We’re losing her!” The urgency in his voice was palpable as he gestured emphatically towards the crash cart.

“Doctor, she has a rare type… K Negative,” the nurse responded, her voice tight with concern as she checked the label on the blood bag. “It’s the last unit we have in the fridge.”

I entered the world silently, or rather, re-entered. My senses were overloaded, my mind struggling to process the chaos around me. “Push…doctor! Her heart is failing!” the attending physician barked, his face slick with sweat. I was too stunned at this event to even bother crying. The pain between my legs was unforgivable.

I may have died at the age of sixty-three, but I was a virgin. It’s not like I wanted to remain that way but life was funny and time seemed to be faster than expected.

Imagine someone like me did not even eat meat but I’m in such a situation.

Did I kill off too many characters in the past?

Could I not become dust and my soul scatter?

Now I am giving birth upon arrival.

Who did I offend? Tell me, ‘cause I am one million percent confused to death right now.

I scraped my brain, trying to figure out which book it was that I arrived in exactly and wanted to bite my tongue and commit suicide. “Doctor, the patient’s heart rate has skyrocketed!” a panicked voice cut through my mental fog.

“Alright administer the TMA, two amps!” the doctor ordered, his eyes glued to the monitor displaying my erratic vitals.

“Doctor, she is—” the same nurse started to say, but the doctor cut her off.

“Shut up! If it was not for that family would…” The words trailed off, replaced by a grimace and a shake of his head. Right, I remember this damn book’s name now! I tasted bile in the back of my throat.

## The Psycho best friend and the triplet gods#

No!

why?

this damn book has the most plot holes!

Ahhhhh!!!

I was so traumatised I passed out for a minute but felt suddenly energized and woke up moments later and continued to push. My body thrummed with a strange, adrenaline-fueled energy.

“That’s it, good job miss Mi!” I wanted to pass out again but then a flash of memory appeared and biting my tongue I continued. I clenched my eyes shut, focusing on the task at hand.

In the damn book, that bitch had said my son was not my son and the original owner died not reconciled but then she switched again and said it was mine. The plot twist that made absolutely no sense.

Who knew the truth but I will not take my eyes off this little parasite when I gave birth! I was determined to protect myself and this child from whatever madness awaited us.

“Doctor her heart rate!”

“Miss Mi it is ok, just push when you feel…” I zoned out the nurse as the others were in a flurry around me secretly hoping to die on this damn bed but I didn’t really want to. The sweet release of death beckoned, but a stubborn part of me refused to give in.

“I can see the shoulders now, miss Mi just one more push,” The doctor encouraged, sweat dripping from his brow onto his surgical mask.

I gritted my teeth and pushed again, wanting to scream but wanted to conserve my energy more. My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed through the pain.

“Doctor, she has stabilized,” The nurse announced, a collective sigh of relief rippling through the room.

“Alright, hurry up!”

Ahhhh!

It was a book for crying out loud and the characters were fake! Why use me? Was it because I wrote it? Was this some twisted form of authorial accountability?

I continued to push feeling the thing exiting and wetness, then a low cry. A tiny, weak sound that sent a strange wave of emotion through me.

“Congratulations, you are a mother and you have a healthy baby boy.” The doctor said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

I blinked, confused by this. Mother? Me? In this ridiculous situation?

What congratulations? I can’t even remember how the little parasite was made in the first place furthermore appreciate giving birth to it. Now this stupid nurse will come to me and say; congratulations, with a smile? Like I’d just won the lottery instead of being forcibly inserted into a plot-hole ridden nightmare.

A while later, a red ugly child was presented to me. He was swaddled in a thin, white blanket. I stared at it feeling zero attachment to this tiny life in front of me, I don’t want it thank you. I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness.

Unfortunately, this body was mine so the thing was mine, it was better to let that bitch have it so I will grudgingly keep it. I couldn’t abandon this child, not even in this crazy situation.

I made a weak gesture as the nurse stepped forward, I looked at the little parasite closely seeing the eyes were a beautiful gold, it had a soft head of hair, the lips were full and cute with a small nose, the child was a bit long and the size was a little plump. No wonder giving birth was hard, he seemed to be a big child almost five kilos. 

Lifting my gaze, now extremely cold I looked at the middle aged nurse and decided to give her a few words. 

“Watch my child properly, you can’t afford the consequences if any mishaps occur.” I threatened then I passed out.

I never want to again!

I had always wanted a child yes, but the pain… No more! Don’t want!

When I awoke again I was in a room, it was simply decorated but spacious, the bed was also a fair size and the air smelled clean.

I frowned, the book details I remember only the birth part because I had to spend three days doing research and she was the only character from the fifty-one books I have written who gave birth to a child and it was my first novel. The vividness of that research now felt like a cruel joke.

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 10 (happily never after)

The original character POV

eople think fantasy equals happily ever after, like a whimsical dream where every wish is granted. They think everything is wonderful and nice, filled with sunshine and rainbows. That what they see, read, and hear in those stories is correct and as should be, ah!

Well, fantasy is correct, but it is dark, sometimes beautiful like a fleeting sunset, twisted like an ancient oak, and mind-numbing, leaving you questioning reality.

So hello, welcome to my life, a far cry from any fairy tale.

My name is Vanity Saint Michaels, a daughter who should have had a beautiful life, filled with laughter and love, but… things went wrong, spiraling downwards into a vortex of despair.

At twenty-two, fresh out of finishing school with dreams of romance and a family, I found myself betrothed to a man who was considered the epitome of a perfect spouse, a paragon of virtue and success, and ranked among the nation’s top twenty wealthiest, with a portfolio spanning industries from tech to real estate.

Amidst the grandeur and opulence of the affluent society, where champagne flowed like water and designer gowns were the uniform, where fantasies of wealth and prestige shroud the harsh realities of life, there I existed; a young woman named Vanity Saint Michaels. My name hinted at a life filled with vanity and elegance, a life of silk and pearls; some may say my name is vulgar, a blatant display of pride, but I was proud. Foolishly proud of it, clinging to the image it projected.

You know family can be a burden, a burden that can even bring anguish to the soul, weighing you down with expectations and obligations.

Born into a world where appearances were everything, where reputation was currency. My parents, driven by ambition and obsession with societal status, meticulously groomed me to be the epitome of perfection, a shining example of their success. From a young age, she was taught to smile, even when her heart ached, to speak with grace, her words carefully chosen, to dance with elegance, gliding across the ballroom floor like a swan.

At the age of twenty-two, with my future seemingly laid out before me, I found myself bound to a man who embodied the essence of wealth and power, a man whose name echoed in the halls of industry and influence. He was considered a catch, a prized possession in the eyes of society, coveted by every debutante and their ambitious mothers. Despite my inner turmoil and the whispers of doubt that plagued my mind, growing louder with each passing day, I like a puppet succumbed to the pressure to fulfill the role of a perfect wife – a trophy to be displayed, a companion to adorn his arm.

Ah yes, as an ignorant character with so-called limited knowledge, sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, I was groomed to be his flawless wife, a polished jewel to complement his success, despite my somewhat flawed background, the whispers of a family secret that I tried desperately to ignore, yet still being his ideal companion, the woman he could proudly present to the world.

As the years passed, the illusion of a fairy-tale life began to crumble, the cracks widening with each passing misfortune. Vanity’s once-flourishing family faced a series of misfortunes, starting with a bad investment that snowballed into financial ruin and despair, the vultures circling as they lost everything they had worked for. The very foundation of her existence, built on the pillars of wealth and status, began to crumble beneath her feet, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and betrayal, with no land in sight.

Her mother, succumbing to grief and illness, her father, drowning in debt and despair, all dead, leaving me alone in the world.

Ah, haha… the sound of my own madness echoing in the empty halls.

It is a pity that I had to suffer and died only ten years later; he was mine rightfully, bound by vows and promises, so how did I become an outsider, a stranger in my own life?

My family was not bad, generous and kind, so how did they go bankrupt and become miserable one after another, their dreams and aspirations crushed under the weight of debt?

In what way could I, previously the most favoured, showered with affection and praise, face the possibility of being abandoned, cast aside like a broken toy?

It was a source of great confusion for me, a puzzle I desperately tried to solve, something that no matter how hard I tried to understand I failed to comprehend that this was my reality, a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Was it not right to beat the woman who slept with my man, the woman who stole his affections and shattered my world?

Was it not right to ask questions after the fact, to demand answers for the betrayal that had consumed my life?

“So why?” I asked filled with unwilling confusion, my voice weak and trembling, barely a whisper.

“You were just too naïve, a pawn in a game you didn’t understand, just a stepping stone to enhance my glory,” a low feminine voice said from above me, laced with triumph and malice. I coughed, spitting out blood, the metallic taste filling my mouth, vision dark, unable to see because they had gouged out my eyes, leaving only empty sockets. I wanted to move, but they twisted my limbs, snapping bones and severing tendons. I wanted to speak, to scream, but they pulled out my tongue, silencing me forever.

My life flashed before my eyes, a chaotic jumble of memories, confusing me even more, adding insult to injury.

From a child, I had been pampered, indulged in every whim. Consequently, I fulfilled the requests of my parents, seeking their approval and love. They had birthed me, clothed me, fed me and allowed me to have the education to stabilize my foundation, providing me with the tools to navigate the world. At a young age, I saw the world because of my parents and relatives, travelling to exotic locations and experiencing the finest things in life, grew up like a precious jewel, adored by many even if in their eyes I was flawed, a pearl with a slight imperfection. What could they say because I was perfection otherwise? My friends were wealthy and worthy of being in my presence, their families influential and powerful. By the time I was sixteen, I had become a prodigy with a voice to calm and seduce, captivating audiences with my melodies, until my tragedy began when I turned eighteen. I lost my voice; a rare illness stealing my ability to sing, I became depressed, isolating myself from the world, but I learned to dance, finding solace in movement and grace, and later married my fiancé when I was twenty-one, hoping to find happiness and stability. My life should have been complete, a perfect picture of success, but a woman appeared, a voice similar to my own, an uncanny echo, similar to me, a mirror image, it was eerily unsettling.

At twenty-four, in a blink, I was thrown into despair, plunged into the depths of misery and sorrow. I lost my pillars!

Abandoned, mourning a loss alone, with no one to turn to. While he abandoned me for a substitute, a fake! I am the original! What ecstasy soup was he… they fed, clouding their judgment and blinding them to the truth.

My friends, my man, my family; whoosh gone just like that, vanished into thin air, leaving me with nothing.

Then, forgotten the torture began, both physical and mental, until I ended up in such a situation, broken and defeated.

Soul seeing despair, pain so deep it transcended the physical, I constantly beg for death, longing for release. I don’t want to live anymore in this world; I don’t want to wish anymore, for even the smallest hope brings only further disappointment.

What shocked me even further before I died? The ultimate betrayal, the cruellest twist of fate.

This was a book! I was a character! A puppet dancing to the author’s tune.

My life was just used as a plot hole! 

A convenient device to move the story forward. It is not enough to know that I suffered so much, I thought; well I am a stepping stone at least and it’s understandable, a sacrifice for the greater good, but I was the heroine! In a dog blood novel! A trashy romance filled with clichés and melodrama.

Who wants to accept such a fate? To be nothing more than a character in a poorly written story.

I am the heroine but my suffering had to be so deep and so much because of growth! A twisted justification for the pain I endured.

(Warning blackening of the main character number thirty!)

I don’t want to do it anymore.

My soul was cracking, consumed by bitterness and rage.

Clearly, the author is the creator; the puppet master pulling the strings, I am her precious creation, a vessel for her amusement, but I must suffer; I wanted to laugh but my body was breaking down and was weak, the laughter turning into a choked sob.

(Malice level rising)

Hehe, I swear to all that is holy the world is unfair. 

Unwilling!

The author can take this life, live for me, understand and feel my pain!

(Warning)

Regret!

Finally, I died.

(Character awakened…)

(loading…)

(memory cleaning….)

(Failed)(loading…)

(Adjusting emotional level)

(the thirtieth character has blackened!)

(Plot unstable)

I floated up, saw that woman who looked similar to me spit on my body, then followed as she left, I watched her be with my husband and listened as she described to an older woman how she destroyed my family using my family and friends. 

(Warning female lead blackening)

I could not deal with it after five years of watching her take over my life. My form seemed to become extremely dark, I rushed out and destroyed everything in my path, I burned, devoured and forced all of those who made mine and me suffer to cease existing. The world was forced into a purgatory leaving only me floating, my form filled with pulsing power.

(World collapsed…)

I turned in a direction disappearing a moment and appeared where there was a veil and tore it, in one direction I headed finding a beautiful woman with somewhat age and made a few moves but she seemed to notice my presence, with a look alone my body was dragged towards her. I didn’t resist, it was only fair anyway.

(Warning! Warning! warning!)

(forced binding)

(scanning…)

(Transferring…)

(Error! Warning!)

(fail, binding… Binding… Success.)

(Blessed to reincarnate)

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 9

World consciousness 

Consciousness dimensional space

In a dimension both connected and disconnected from the world of mortals and other living beings there was a form.

It had existed for so long it had forgotten, but with beings like it, the age is never sure for before they come into consciousness they are simply an existence in the process of creation.

The being detached itself from its main body and formed another, it had been weakened so many times it had to separate itself to ensure its continual survival.

The beings before it were souls, fractured remnants of those who had lived and died. Some were so profoundly damaged, so utterly broken by their experiences, that they were mere flecks of consciousness, shimmering motes only able to cry out their grievances in disjointed wails and despairing cries. Others retained a semblance of their former selves, their identities clinging to them like tattered shrouds.

The being manifested as a male who had somewhat human features but his features, though undeniably masculine, were refined and possessed a captivating beauty that transcended mortal understanding. His form was impossibly tall, easily over thirty meters, sitting regally upon a throne meticulously crafted from the shattered remains of his own previously destroyed world core. A testament to a devastating past.

The cold fire that pulsed within the core had cracks running through it, exposing the molten green energy within. The vibrant color of the cosmic energy, a shade never seen in the mortal realm, blended seamlessly with the pitch-black outer layer, creating an mesmerizing display of contrasting forces.

His attire was an ancient, exquisitely embroidered gold Chinese robes from the eastern dynasties, resembling the raiment of an immortal emperor. It was complete with an elaborate head crown adorned with jade and pearls, with silky straight snow-white strands cascading down his back, reaching almost to the base of his spine. Fox-shaped eyes, rimmed with impossibly long lashes, brushed his perfectly sculpted cheekbones like the softest white feathers each time he blinked. Though such an action was unnecessary for his kind, he still did it, each time his eyes were opened exposing glowing silver orbs that stood out starkly against the endless black void that surrounded him.

He had consciously chosen this specific form because of her. He had observed her preferences, her unconscious desires, and noted her affinity for males with these traits and those wearing well-tailored suits, all with muscular builds.

He had been watching her, an unnoticed observer, from the moment she first floated in the silent void of space as a nascent soul, adrift and lost. He watched as she suddenly materialized in his world, drawn by an unknown force.

Initially, he had considered destroying her, dismissing her as just another invader seeking to exploit his weakened state. But curiosity, or perhaps something akin to hope, stayed his hand. He decided to watch, even entering the mortal world himself, adopting the guise of that man just so he could be closer, to understand her motives and perhaps, her potential.

A friend? Was that all he could be?

He wanted more, a connection that transcended the boundaries of existence, but he could only settle for reproduction in that borrowed body, even though he knew he could never truly have her. The eggs she had provided, infused with her unique essence, were good enough for now. The body he possessed, painstakingly crafted, was an excellent vessel, anyway he had carefully made it just to understand her more at the opportune time.

The power of belief, a fragile yet potent force, is something even those mired in dissatisfaction secretly crave, hoping for a sliver of success to latch onto. It was a fundamental aspect of humanity, a species so paradoxical that they were often inexplicably favored.

Resentment festered within the souls of those who yearned for justice, a justice eternally denied in their mortal lives. Now, they found themselves reliant on a single individual, one granted the extraordinary power to record their experiences for the world to witness, to potentially ignite a spark of empathy and action.

Their collective fury was immense, yet their power remained limited, barely sufficient to coalesce into a spectral aid, a second chance for her through a borrowed body, granting her one more opportunity to make a difference.

“Use us…” a voice echoed, filled with centuries of pain.

“We have suffered so…” another pleaded, the words heavy with unspoken tragedies.

“If we were the anchor of the world…” a third chimed in, a desperate offering of self.

“Unjust death!” a chorus cried, their voices a cacophony of righteous anger.

“They say I was the darling of heaven!” a woman lamented, the echo of a lost title lingering in the air.

“They said I could save a nation!” a regal voice boomed, a monument to shattered expectations.

“They made me bow my head!” a man snarled, the bitterness of betrayal coating his words.

“Such grievances!” the multitude roared, their discontent a palpable wave.

“We will sacrifice ourselves if she could avenge us!” they vowed, united in their desire for retribution.

“Power!”

“Strength!”

“Domination!”

“Willing…”

The World Consciousness, an ancient and weary entity, observed the spectral figures clamoring for vengeance, their desire to sacrifice their very essence to empower her a testament to her impact. “Do you think she is truly willing to bear this burden?” it questioned, its voice a low rumble that resonated through the ethereal plane.

“She wrote our stories as is, unflinchingly, authentically. She was the catalyst who helped us solidify our forms, to gain a semblance of understanding within this chaotic realm. It is only right that we repay our debt,” a calm voice reasoned, cutting through the clamor.

“You will become her, and she you. If you merge, she…” The World Consciousness hesitated, weighing the implications of such a profound union.

“With her, your world can have a chance to survive. It may be irrevocably altered, the beings dwelling upon it may suffer in unforeseen ways, but that is inconsequential. This is, after all, a trial, a crucible for those who crave power, a proving ground for resilience,” another soul declared, unwavering in its conviction.

The World Consciousness remained silent, the weight of its responsibility pressing heavily upon it. It had already expended a significant amount of energy, weakened by the relentless onslaught of the invaders. “The invaders will not cease their attacks until you collapse, until your very essence is extinguished. Books constitute your world, for that is what you chose as your form of existence, a testament to the power of stories,” one of the more lucid souls reminded it, but the World Consciousness remained absorbed in thought, grappling with the immense decision before it.

With a thought, it waved allowing the requests of the souls, first it will return to the world outside and sort the offspring, they will help anchor her to him.

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 8

Real world

Sarah Wu was a devoted fan of the celebrated author Vanity Saint Michaels, also affectionately known as Vanity Mi to her dedicated fanbase. She followed her works religiously, owning multiple editions of each book, before she had written in the fan forum to let them tune in on the interview.

Even though Sarah was a celebrated reporter on the weekly entertainment news show ‘Heatwave,’ where she interviewed various celebrities and delved into the latest industry buzz about them, her heart belonged to literature.

Now, sitting across from her was the famous editor and manager of her deceased favourite author, Mr. Wen. He was a literary titan in his own right, having discovered and nurtured Vanity Mi’s talent.

That night, alone in her apartment after reading the news of Vanity Mi’s passing, she had cried heartbreakingly in a private online fan group, sharing her grief with fellow admirers.

Fuelled by a mix of sorrow and professional ambition, she had then requested to be the one in charge of interviewing editor Wen, seeing it as a sacred duty.

Sarah Wu made sure her makeup was flawless and her pants suit was perfectly pressed before standing and walking down the narrow, brightly lit hallway to the television set.

“Miss Wu, remember that editor Wen is in a sensitive state; he has just flown in this morning and has not yet had a chance to properly grieve—”

Sarah Wu turned and looked at the young, nervous assistant who wanted to give her some last-minute advice. She was a tall woman and wearing impractical eight-inch kitten toe heels that seemed to wobble slightly with each step.

The calf-length pencil skirt swayed in tandem with her hips as she walked, but was as still as a statue when she stood now, clearly intimidating.

“Miss Ken, I am twenty-five not twelve, I know what I’m doing.” With those words, delivered with a dismissive wave of her hand, Sarah Wu walked ahead, her own heels mutedly clicking  on the carpeted floor hips and skirt swaying in tendem.

When she entered the studio, she saw a handsome man sitting silently in the designated chair. His silver-grey hair was neatly combed, framing a face that seemed etched with sorrow. He had piercing, phoenix-shaped eyes, a straight nose, full lips, and a sharply defined, three-dimensional face.

As for his build, it was impressively tall, over 1.9 meters, with broad shoulders, all impeccably tailored in a sophisticated pin-striped suit. In the earlier years many fans had shipped him and miss Mi who remained single.

Because of miss Mi she did not feel any pressure to constantly try and whiten her skin amidst the preference among most Asians. 

She rather keep her olive toned skin and dress up just like her favourite author who was already over sixty but look in her early thirties before she died, aging so perfectly she could not help but publicly admire and secretly worship.

But was the handsome man worthy of her goddess?

Thirty years of his effort unfortunately made him so but death made it impossible.

After taking in all of this in a swift, professional assessment, and putting her thoughts aside, Sarah Wu stepped forward with a confident smile and introduced herself before gracefully taking her seat opposite him.

Ten minutes later, after the lighting and sound checks were complete, the production team gave the go-ahead for them to start. The cameras began rolling.

“Editor Wen, it is an honour to have you here. First of all, I would like to express my deepest condolences on the death of a truly great author,” Sarah Wu said softly, her voice laced with genuine empathy.

“Thank you, Miss Wu,” he replied, his voice a low, resonant baritone.

“Now, the forums and social media platforms have been abuzz with rumours of a potential sequel. Can you confirm if it is true?” Sarah Wu asked trying not to sound too hopeful.

Editor Wen tilted his head as if it thought with an absentminded look on his face before answering. “Yes, this last book had been ongoing for a long time and was her first. It had finished with three million words and has caused an outcry among the reading community, desperate for more, which prompted such results.”

“True, I am sure our viewers would love to know more about this sequel. Approximately how many words will it contain? Will it be as lengthy as the first, or…” her words trailed off, her excitement palpable. Short or long, she did not care; she knew it would be a guaranteed bestseller!

“It will have only 1.8 million words. She had explained that even though she did not believe in HE (happy endings), she would, at the time, for her retirement give the public something rare.” Sarah Wu felt her vision blurred with a sudden rush of emotion, her favorite author was still thinking about them, her readers and fans. She really wanted to give in to the emotions torturing her, but this was a live interview, and she must maintain professional composure. She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard to regain her equilibrium.

“When will it be published?”

“In two weeks, on the anniversary of her debut novel. The date was set long ago as a symbolic gesture, and the film adaption will be made public next year, around springtime.”

“The actors – will they be famous names, or perhaps newcomers?” Sarah Wu bit her lip after saying this leaning closer subconsciously so that none could be missed. 

“The actors were all carefully chosen by her, down to the very last extra. Some were flown in from overseas, and the majority are dedicated, long-time fans of her works, which made the selection process quite unique.”

**forum**


Discussion: Vanity saint Michaels author of 51 novels died.

[Bubblez: hahahaha have you heard the author died?] 

[Astridooooooooz: yeh she burned to death] 

[Zane: f*** why? I thought she would write a sequel.] 

[Zoobrid: really did she say?] 

[Monkeybridemansauce: yeh she replied the day before to my question I was so excited, then this happened.] 

[Greentea: what? No way if that was true then what’s the point..? *%*] 

[Miracleeze: sigh, my aunt ended up in the hospital after she heard. She followed her from day one, even though she had to pace herself so she would not spontaneously die from anger. This time though it was as though she lost her soul after hearing the author died.] 

[Xiekimmiezu: my mother knew her in real life, she has not eaten for two days now, she is just sitting there zoning out.] 

[Waitwhahuhyo: wow @greentea you seem super emotional] 

[Astridooooooooz: are you high? Drunk? Or just stupid? The author had such a good book, but it had a tragic ending. In fact if your eyes were working you would have seen the others. ] 

[Have you seen the reviews? The book was well written for f***** sake. I hope you get eaten alive or something freak!] 

[Masterpads: he should just drown!] 

[Someonesomeone: dogs should eat him for saying such blasphemy!] 

*admin deleted Waitwhahuhyo from forum*

[Lilypads: good @admin] 

[Astridooooooooz: good @admin] 

[Monkeybridemansauce: good @admin] 

[Spicysoursauces: good @admin] 

[Xzsdem: good @admin] 

12634 replies to admin

[ Dreamingsadly: ttoday the show heatwave, have broadcasted the interview between Sarah Wu and editor Wen. She.sigh.]

[ Numbfrommourning: I watched it through tears. ]

[Iwanttobeherloyal1fan: heartbreak, truly heartbreaking. You could see the pain in editor Wen’s eyes.]

[reamingsadly: I cried so hard that my eyes are swollen and my voice hoarse.]

[Monkeybridemansauce: it had one of the highest views in the country. Anyway thirty years of sending people to the hospital and the like, many will be focused on something so major about her.]

[Masterpads: wuwu, I am in tears again, it is so unfair.]

[Abcrides: yo I’m crying ugly as hell. The funeral is in two days. I heard she had donated everything she owned to her high school. It’s good.] 

[Zane: well her family isn’t pleased especially that niece of hers.] 

[Ariellllliebarbie: yo, so there is a gossip that the niece is with the ex she had been with for over twenty years. How gross is that for her to actually…] 

[Lillllllliannna: oh yeh, the man is similar to that last book but he has four children with the niece.] 

[Monkeybridemansauce: clear it up. That man mentioned was the cheating fiance, I mean the husband in the book wasn’t worth much but the first two hundred chapters he was like a leech along with her dead beat dad.]

[Zane: above of course @Lillllllliannna meant that fiance, even though the husband was a wasted in the end, he was in another seperate bracket.]

[Cheeseonbread: heh, don’t mention either of them. The fiance went with the niece she raised and the husband with a secretary who was a secret heiress and to boot mixed just like her. How could the husband resist such temptation. One is a wife with no background and one who had the backing of a rich family.]

[Freegossip: forget about the book for now, back to the niece. Somebody have to have real tea on the niece and the fiance. Also as for the heiress I the book, you guys forgot that the wife was from old money even though her family had fallen from the mother’s side her mother had left many things behind for her. She had also invested in many things and in chapter two hundred and forty two she had mentioned that specifically. Also the wife was darker while the heiress was lighter with wavy hair unlike the tight curls of the wife.]

Now someone spill the tea!]

872 times shared

[LordeZhen: yes above i have some tea, a friend from a friend who knows a friend, who knows a family member mentioned it. The niece was caught in her bed, author almost went awall, hehehe.] 

[Anhaha: I saw that post about a decade ago posted by a V blogger, shit the anger, also the comparison pictures of niece and aunt were like comparing a mutt to a purebred.] 

[Zo-zo S-so: I saw that! The V was a friend. She bashed those two dog blood cheaters, but the author kept everything and sued him for everything not returned. It should still be on the net…search it. That niece, smh, she is something serious.] 

2374 times shared

[Boss222213: oh s*%& really? I have no idea there was such a big tea, I will search that. She has zero heart if she did that and wants her money.] 

[Moonwalker: I’d want it to. She had a business she made alone, land, well had a home and the webnovel which was also sold on many major sites and I also heard that it is going to be made into a movie!] 

[HaPAPPyz: It was so good that she had rewards as well, but those last five chapters of her last book, ugh.] 

[Monkeybridemansauce: I know I regret dissing her now. It feels like I committed a sin.] 

[Boostboossssss: dude I know we all did the same. I feel so depressed.] 

[sugar@cube: I cried like a true girl for hours. Have you seen the blog post of the author?] 

[zenzzzzzen: I’ve seen she had typed before she died that she was making a reincarnation as a sequel..but..but wuwuwuwuwuwu] 

[amansadeds: wait, so there was a sequel? wth! I had written a bad review and even bashed the author. I feel so bad…wuwuwuwuwu… can I go back and change it…. Wuwuwu.] 

[wuwuwu:wuwwuwuwuwuwu]

shared 4567

[kevingotshirtssleeves: you all should feel bad, her editor just mentioned on the major sites, that a draft of one thousand chapters for the sequel has been reported. Like with you, people probably brought death on this perfect author by gang-cursing her.] 

[zenzzzzzen: this one hereby begs for our author to be reincarnated.] 

[amansadeds: reposted zenzzzzzen’s post]

zenzzzzzen’s post has been reposted

1360k+ times.

[zenzzzzzen: wow]

Once upon a bad Christmas

chapter 7

Reviews 4789:

4/5 stars 

[ Astrid_reeds: dear author, how dare you break my heart like this? Two stars, and that’s only because the story was still well written]

5/5 stars 

[ Mariocartious: I hope you are happy. This book should be a horror, suspense and twisted. Drawn in for the first nine hundred and ninety-five chapters until the last five where you killed off each and everyone of the male leads and then had the female lead kill herself. Are you proud? A beautiful story ruined by your heartlessness you twisted *%+*Ing b*%&@! I hope you will never get a man and die single!]

5/5 stars 

[ Aloeversionzest: wuwuwuwu I hate you author! Grow old alone!]

4/5 stars 

[ Crisandcrissy: my girlfriend read this book for three months. I watched my relationship become extremely well because of this. She did things that before she would never do, so I picked up the book curious and felt enlightened to be honest it was extremely well written the description was from your point of view so each experience is like.. It was you but then the book just went downhill the last five chapters. It depressed my girlfriend for two weeks, she cried nonstop as a man. I have to admit I cried as well. Why would you kill her like that? What sort of person are you?]

5/5 star rating

[ I hope you stay alone for the rest of your miserable existence or die horribly you *%&@, stupid @’:%,I Can’t believe a *%@=+&£.]

4/5 star rating

[ runningfromlyfe:%&@ing c@%&£.]

3/5 star rating

[ amberdatessims: We are boh from the caribbean, I have read horrors, suspense, thrillers…then after this book popped up on my fyp I clicked it and found it actually good. A year of my life. Gone! BAD REVIW!!!]

3/5 star rating

[ Carlzt: as a man, I have to say it was a good read, well written and many things were cleared up in the end. As a man I will admit I was like a zombie for three days trying to understand why you had to do the female lead so dirty. I mean, you killed her man, her friends and after she killed herself on the verge of death the step sister basically made her blackened and probably become a ghost. I mean from the forums and discussions this is yur usual way of writing but still, you had to do her so dirty? ]

4/5 star rating

[ Vicenasekidsxi: You know, i was a normal person twenty years ago, you would think that as a healthy person who exercised, ate well and maintained himself that I would continue to be healthy. Then I read your books. Now I have to take medication because i seem to have heart problems and my nerves are trippy. I tell myself over and over its just a book the characters are fake but then I get happy, mad, angry, bervous, sad, depressed….I feel like a woman on her period!]

3/5 star rating

[ riceandpeas: You will resurrect the female lead author right? Or at last kill off the stepsister, right author? I will change this to a five star if you do.]

4/5 stars

[PiousreaderofVanity: Again, once again something brilliant. Valentines day, independence day for all of us Barbadians and christmaas. Every year, same thing. Every year like an addict wanting a fix I continue to read these books and webnovels. Ah, what a sucker, luckily I am strong enough if not I would be like some of these readers who have anxiety problems, heart problems and nerves. 

Oh and for those who want to sue her for emotional trauma just not she made sure to list the trigger warnings and disclaimer. ]

I blinked, looking at the large screen befor me with the various sites. From the total of four thousand plus reviews, on the various famous platforms worldwide, only forty of them were positive, hoping I write a saga, while the others called for my death or cursed me to be single forever. I continued to read the reviews moving to the popular asian review site. 

I was over sixty, single sure, but that was only because the guy I had been with for twenty years had left me for my niece I had pitied and raised.

Of course, they had four kids now and even grandchildren. Every time I saw them I wanted to stab their parents with a knife in their head in front of them so they could have life long trauma.

Annoyed, I sold my apartment I had bought and bought five acres of land, built a treehouse and a bike, travelling only when I had an event which ended up being every three months.

Thinking back, when the restrictions on me were finally released I could not escape fast enough with everything.

Why would I bother staying in China?

The entire point of me going there was because of him and my aunt who was actually Chinese, a waste of my youth!

Ehm, that is a long story.

Then I began writing, the first book was of course about my life in this world, I changed the names and some events but it was of those shameless couple in the beginning before it was warped by me into… a tragedy.

It took so long to finish but that was because of the haunting from the others who simply were like torture forcing me to write.

I also contacted my lawyer and decided to have the eggs I had previously donated on a whim to be used.

He had asked if he could use them and I agreed, anyway we knew each other for almost twenty years now and though he was older, he was in peak form and looked far from his age.

As someone from Barbados just like my original self, I also wanted my own people to have that legacy even though he looked and spoke Chinese, his parents were three generation born Barbadians only returning with the children when they were two and visiting the island.

With that thought, it was why I decided to make almost all of my male characters Asian males.

What a twist no?

A black female and Asian male leads. Anyway books with an Asian male and black female was extremely rare which amounted for most of my books becoming so popular.

Anyway, it didn’t matter, just that my bloodline would be out there.

After, I became a Web novelist and learned how to make my own shampoo, creams, and soaps, creating my brand.

First it was curiosity but then it became a hobby and then a small job.

My life was productive for the past thirty years. I even practised tai chi, judo, boxing, running and went to the gym to stay in shape. Even if I was over sixty I still looked no more than thirty.

The air here was clean. I grew my own food. This was a good life.

Only that I was a bit lonely.

Sigh.

Should I make the book into a saga?

Make her live again? I have already done a few drafts, but should I publish them? My editor was talking about it, those I sent for her to peruse had been praised but… I dunno.

Then there is the first book. I had thought about having children back then with my fiance but he wanted to wait, on a whim I wrote her and also decided on a son even though I would have liked a daughter.

That book was slightly different with triplets each one from friends I secretly had a crush on and also the best friend of that female character who was secretly my type.

Typing a few thousand words I yawned feeling sleepy.

Falling asleep moments later, the computer still on, I was woken by the feeling of pain.

I was on fire, everything around me was on fire.

Shortly after, I passed out and was burned to death.

Guess karma really is a bitch, but finally I could be free.

Chain reactions occurred throughout the world. She thought she was the author but they are characters who were affected through different eras because of the invaders, the world was supposed to progress and their lives grand and beautiful but invaders appeared causing the timelines to fall and the world to collapse. If not for Vanity’s arrival and her writing, the power from her and the belief of billions the world would have been snuffed out.

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 6

chapter 1205

Blood was splattered across the ruined street, painting the crumbling buildings in a crimson hue. The mutated things, their limbs twisted and elongated, had torn people apart with savage glee. My son was gone, ripped from my arms during the initial surge. I stumbled among the carnage, my boots crunching on shattered bone and glass, clutching the rusty pole I’d salvaged from a downed street sign. It was slick with blood and grime. I had fought for so many years, scavenging for scraps, battling the infected, protecting the weak, but for what? What had it all been for?

My man was dead, taken by a raider’s bullet two years back. My friends had died protecting me, throwing themselves in front of the horrors that clawed their way through the city. I wanted to save them, each and every one, but it was all a failure. Every sacrifice, every drop of sweat and blood, meant nothing.

“You smeared my name and thought everything would be okay, Yumna? You sold the shared shares six years ago, right after the outbreak, and pocketed the entire sum. You refused to pay for the wedding, leaving David scrambling for a second job, making him miss his father’s final days. We had such a good life before, our children were pampered and finally able to see the day, the day these… things… arrived. But you!” Her voice dripped with venom.

The woman, my stepsister, looked at me with eyes filled with a hatred so profound it felt like a physical blow. This stepsister, still sickeningly alive, stood before me in clothes that looked freshly laundered, her beautiful face untouched by the horrors we’d all endured, scarless, as she accused me. The audacity of it all.

I did not understand her rage. The money was mine, inherited from my mother. The business was started by my mother long before this fool was even in the picture. I helped her raise her children, spoiled brats, unknowingly for four years, like a damn clown, and when I no longer wanted to be a sucker, she accused me of ruining her life.

Creatures ate people! The world had gone to hell!

The world had ended five years ago, reduced to a wasteland of death and despair, and she was still hooked on that petty drama?! Still clinging to the past like it meant anything.

“I would have never believed the pampered princess would end up like this, cowering in the dirt. You know it was because of you everyone died, don’t you?” I stared wide-eyed, a knot forming in my stomach, staring at the woman, utterly confused.

“The reason you can’t speak properly was me. A little…accident two years ago. And the boy you raised, the one you believed was yours, was also mine. Your child…your tiny little angel was tossed in a tree and left for dead. Sigh, he was so resilient, though. He cried and screamed as he was pecked to death by the eagle. I mean, I caught it and starved it for five days so it was extra hungry.” My ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine drowning out her words. I stared wide-eyed, my vision blurring as I looked at the young woman who lived so well, untouched by the horrors I faced daily – the stabbings, the scratches, the burns, the gnawing hunger. I just…

I couldn’t accept that the boy I suffered with, the one who called me ‘Mama’ as we huddled around flickering fires, was not mine. That all the love I poured into him was for someone else’s child and the child of my enemy! “Oh, right, you raised him so well, I couldn’t watch my precious son die right?” She said in an offhanded manner. I stared wide eyed as the little boy I sacrificed even my man and friends for stepped from behind this stepsister and looked at me with disgust and…hatred?

“You raised him in filth, such a treasure…” She brushed away his soft hair exposing a delicate face. She looked at him with love and then hugged him close. I watched as the boy, the little mongrel I raised for eight years, looked at my enemy with adoration.

“Sigh, it is a waste talking to you. Your use is up. Oh, and your men. Those friends, Mark and Ben, loved you so much, Yumna, but you friend-zoned them, didn’t you? Stringing them along with false hope. You actually forced them to die as well…” I listened, feeling my body go cold, a numbness spreading through my limbs. My mind blanked, the words washing over me like a tidal wave, crushing the last vestiges of hope. Even as she walked away, her designer boots clicking on the debris-strewn pavement, I knelt there, stunned, the rusty pole clattering to the ground. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, a hollow smile twisting my lips, I plunged the jagged end of the pole into my right eye. The pain was immediate and blinding, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. Right before I died I heard her voice like the fucking devil whispering in my ears. “I lied you know, your son is actually your son but his value is simply too great. Such a luck child must be mine so I can continue to prosper.” I died wailing unwillingly in my mind.

Authors note: dear readrs I hope you like the book, two million plus words finally over. I want to wish you a merry christmas, dont forget to comment, like and share.

Comments 1289:

[ draggedbudz: Heh? The second christmas I have to spend between flabbergasted, angry, depressed and annoyed. let me go and take my pills.]

[ gritgritup: what the %&$! I wasted my damn life again!] 

[ questionsauthor: I changed my name because I have questions and I will go in the review section later but comments. Author; why? why would you do me, a loyal fan for twenty years repeatedly so dirty? You write well, you make us hook and kill off the las. How could that trecherous b&%/ become the female lead in the end and live happily ever after? How could you say its an HE? this is a Be okay! A damn BAD ENDING! ]

[ Zingzag: I wasted a pack of tissue. ]

[ Hungryonesize: Author, i will mail my medical bill to you. It is simply too much.]

[ Grindingink: Is it because you are from the west that you have to be so twisted? I mean could you plase like add something nicer and stick to it? I frown on women with many men but why couldnt you give them at last a sweat date? AUTHOR I DEMAND ANSWERS!!! ]

[ hatefulperson: Author, I have a nervous problem and also became an addict. People told me that I should get help but…why though? just tell me why you keep doing this? ]

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 5

C214

Because I had mocha skin, the color of dark chocolate with a hint of coffee, and a head full of tightly coiled afro hair that framed my face like a dark halo, my dad always seemed subtly disappointed. He’d never said it outright, but I knew he’d envisioned a daughter with lighter, almost caramel-toned skin and looser, cascading curls.

Well, it’s fine, I thought, even if I wasn’t a stick figure. I worked hard for what I had. My stomach was flat from Pilates, and my waist, at 26 inches, was small enough to accentuate my curves. My legs were strong and defined, even if they were thicker than runway models, toned from years of dancing. And my hips were broad, a genetic inheritance from my mother’s side of the family, but that too was something I loved because it gave my ass the shape of a ripe Georgia peach. My breasts, though only a modest B cup, were perky and perfectly proportioned to my frame.

After changing out of my sweatpants and throwing on a fitted black dress, and grabbing my brand new phone, I hopped into my car and drove to my dad’s estate. The moment I stepped into the opulent, marble-floored foyer, he started shouting. His face was red with fury.

‘You didn’t show up at the wedding! Two hundred guests waited, Antonio was frantically searching for you! The Mercedes he drove was repossessed, and the credit cards didn’t work when he tried to pay for gas!’

‘I cancelled the car lease, he’s no longer my fiancé, and the card is from my account as well. He works as a manager at a decent company– why is it that I haven’t received even a birthday card from him, let alone a gift? Why is it that he has to use my money for everything?!’

I shot back, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. The words were barely out of my mouth when a searing pain erupted on my left cheek. The force of the slap made my head snap to the side.

I can’t believe it, I thought, the shock reverberating through me. At twenty-two years old, I never imagined I’d still be subjected to physical violence like I was as a child, but here we are.

‘How dare you speak to me that way! He is a good, hardworking man! He’s from a respectable family!’

I blinked, trying to regain my composure. Then, without another word, I turned on my heel and walked out. There was no reason to stay. Everything I had of value was gone, not just the material possessions, but any semblance of love or respect. So, no longer will I care. Let him keep the slap. As his daughter, I talked back, it was my bad.

Comments 2976:

[Ilovecrocodiles:a good man? Aha hahahahaha, what sort of father was he?]

[Aloevirginzz: don’t worry girl, he will regret!]

[Questionsandanswer: it is christmas today and author could not even shove in some theme.]

[Alivinandchris: above, the author had mentioned it before, we know already that she does not mention this much after all her books are international.]

[brotherdred: it was mentioned it the earlier chapters.]

[Murphidpedals: slap him back! How dare that garbage!]

[Buzzzzzzzzingbees: wow, just wow. I’ll wait for the author to pass out the revenge.]

Chapter 699:

A month later, in my new home, I found out I was pregnant by the one-night stand. The ring that was found on my ring finger I kept; the main reason it kept unworthy men away and it did not look absoulutely cheap, though my taste was much higher than most so it seemed that way even though i had to admit the closer I looked at the delicate design and the small diamonds ebbed inside made it so.

Also some images of me holding out my hand and allowing a man with long, distinct jointed fingers placed the ring on my hand flashed.

Even if someone like me was not liked much here in the first place, there are still a few who liked a unique beauty that was different from most asian standards.

The after a while I decided that shifting some money I had earned from good investments, I hoarded food when I started showing at eight available funds in the secondary account was running low and after a while I decided to shift over some funds, once I was a little heavier around seven months pregnant, then hired a private company for home delivery. On the ninth month, I gave birth and the child was a boy.

I wanted to laugh when they placed the tiny, bundled-up infant in my arms, carefully peeling back the blanket to inspect every inch of him. He was perfect, impossibly so, with a surprisingly full head of straight, silky black hair, skin as pale as fresh snow, and the most beautiful, slightly upturned eyes. Considering my own complexion – a warm, dark almond tone – the contrast was almost comical.

Logically, he should have inherited my darker features, perhaps even some unruly curls. Everyone says babies change as they grow, especially around two years old. I clung to that hope, anxiously awaiting his second birthday. But as he grew, he looked even less like me, more like the locals. I dreaded the inevitable questions, the confused glances. Imagine trying to convince people I wasn’t the nanny, pushing his stroller through the park.

I admitted he was probably from a dormant gene or his father’s gene fought mine like I was an enemy to get a child like that.

Still, he at least looked similar to me.

One day when I drove to the center for a meeting with my bank, as an investor i was given priviledges than many were not and as an exheress who is simply a rich one without a family to back me besides my little son.

All of this sacrifice was with the singular purpose of being the best possible mother to my son, ensuring he was well-cared for and secure, even if I was gone early.

Unfortunately, that day took a dramatic turn. I got the shock of my life.

A man appeared seemingly from nowhere, his presence radiating authority. He approached me and declared, with unwavering conviction, that I was his wife, and the boy was his son.

This…

I felt a wave of humiliation wash over me, my face burning with a heat so intense that if my skin were lighter, it would have been a blazing crimson.

I stared, dumbfounded, at the tall, undeniably handsome Asian man before me, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and with perfectly coiffed hair. His features were so striking, so refined, that I silently acknowledged his undeniable beauty. But when he repeated his outrageous claim, the impact hit me like a physical blow.

I think it was stress or something because the world tilted, and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a bed, unfamiliar surroundings swirling into focus.

My eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for my son, but he was nowhere to be seen. A surge of panic coursed through me, and I bolted upright, feeling a dizzying rush of blood to my head. Scanning my surroundings, it became horrifyingly clear that this was not my home.

comments 4537:

[Carolsingalong: Finally th twist is here!]

[qqqqqaaas: I have been waiting for this part! male lead!]

[plotsandalldemholes: I am excited but i am telling myself to calm down]

[LuLuLuLu: I am excited and will not calm down. I will wait for the plothole! @plotsandalldemholes.]

[ughhuhuh:I am biting my nails, thinking if I should click the next chapter.]

Chapter 897

There are shocks in life, moments that hit you so hard they make you want to go on a rampage, to lash out at everything and everyone. The kind of volcanic fury that threatens to consume you whole.

My husband, confessed he loved another woman. How can such a thing be accepted, especially after all the drama with his family, all the sacrifices I made to appease them?

I felt that my limit had been reached, he dared to admit it to my face.

A mere secretary,the damn help, thought she could climb over my head, usurp my place, and even dared to slap me. How could I accept such blatant disrespect, such a betrayal?

 I could not, I wouldn’t. Therefore, I meticulously planned my escape and ran away with my five-year-old son,  as soon as my husband left for his business trip.

Because our marriage was a secret and his affair with the secretary was pblic along with his status and the threath of my child—my only relative, I had to bow my head, swallow my pride, and play the dutiful, oblivious wife in public.

I was aggrieved, suffocated by the lies and deceit. It was one mistake after another, like escaping one prison, the suffocating expectations of my family, only to enter another. 

Comments 987:

[plotsandalldemholes: I am so damn upset! Why?! I had so much hope in the male lead and what did he do?!!! That secretary could not be so shameless!]

[Dendandon: the man stolen by the one she saved and now by a worker, she should just stay single and raise her child.]

[Beam: I broke my damn phone because of this and still continued hoping for more like a damn maschoschist!]

[Darkfantasy_lover: I knew it! I mean who kills off a character in such a descriptive way in the beginning? I bet I will be using my inhaler soon yo!]

[Chasingroostersanddogs: I saw this coming! I understand she had to grow and believed with all the face slapping before she would, until the part where the secretary beat her up because she dared to confront her.]

[Carolsingalong: I only commented because I couldnt resist, but damn im speechless otherwise.]

[dancingintherainclouds: above, I feel the same way. ugh.]

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 4

I really deserved to die, a constant, gnawing thought that plagued me, but I couldn’t let them be happy. I couldn’t allow my father, a man usually so discerning, to be blinded by a woman who was constantly under the knife, each surgery a desperate attempt to recapture lost youth or perhaps, something more sinister.

How many times had she gone under?

Three?

Four?

Each time emerging a little less herself.

Take what my mother worked hard for, the small import business she painstakingly built from nothing after arriving in the country.

Did she get pregnant from him, trapping him with a child while he had another family?

Fail. This man will be impotent, his seed as barren as the desert. That woman will be trying, spending countless hours and dollars at fertility clinics, that man will be trying for a son, a male heir who will never appear from all those blanks he shot, a cruel twist of fate for a man obsessed with legacy.

Sister wants my man? My fiancé, practically my husband after all the arrangements were made.

Have him. Take him, and the burden he carries.

I’m sure, super sure, that I can find better, so the subpar man, the one who couldn’t keep his zipper up around my own sister, I, Yumna Falala, born in Chkemen, , to an Afmiko father, a quiet but strong man from Nigeria, and a mixed mother who died from heartbreak, a slow, agonizing death that hollowed her out from the inside, refused to live again like that.

So when I was reborn, when I resolved to take control, just before I left the meticulously decorated room, a room bursting with red and gold for my impending nuptials, to get married to the man who had made my sister pregnant and, I suspected, would never even bother to show up, I caught a taxi after slipping out the back entrance of the family compound.

I took the papers, carefully hidden in my clutch, to the house that was supposed to be our marital home, the house legally in my name, called the moving company, Atlas Van Lines, and took out all of his meticulously tailored suits and Italian leather shoes. And the sleek, black BMW X5 that he drove, officially in my name, I called the rental company, Avis, to pick it up and cancelled the payment. I also cancelled the Amex card I had foolishly given him access to.

Then, still in my elaborate silk wedding dress, I went to some hotel, The Golden Dragon, checked in under a false name, and went drinking at the hotel bar. Ordering one expensive cocktail after another, numbing the pain and the shame.

Somehow, though, the next day I did not expect that I would wake up, head pounding, limbs aching, sore and with a heavy, black and gold ring, intricately engraved with a dragon motif, on my left ring finger.

When I woke to empty my stomach in the toilet, the metallic tang of bile burning my throat, then took a quick, scalding shower, followed by picking up my scattered belongings, I didn’t even spare a glance for the probably still naked man on the bed, a stranger whose face was already fading from my memory.

Well, if I did something so shameless, fuelled by rage and heartbreak, I suppose the normal thing would be to get away as fast and as far as I can. Time to disappear.

Comments1578:

[Zoelovesherself: you go, girl!]

[Asherahesah: wow not bad for this type of book]

[Xysyyyyyyyyyyy: Yumna Falala, author again with the names!]

[HAYHEY: I made it without giving it!]

[Qqqqqqwwwww: @HAYHEY, you know it’s only c75, right? If you are an old reader wait until around two hundred before the urge to cough blood arises. .]

[ZenzanZoom: Hey reader Qqqqqqwwwww, don’t break us so early. I remember in one of her more popular books the one with the multiple leads she broke our heart in c30.]

[AquAiq: Haha, yeh it was quite funny in that one. It took me almost a year to finish that book.]

C210

Today was an extremely busy day. I finally sold my thirty percent stake in Dad’s company.

Thankfully, the sale was done privately, bypassing all the corporate bureaucracy. With the company still showing a healthy profit margin and projections looking stable for at least the next twelve months — though silently I wish it would crash in three — but anyway, I managed to negotiate an exceptionally favorable price. Flush with cash, I immediately reinvested most of it—buying shares in a diverse portfolio of ventures, mostly tech-related. After brokerage fees and taxes, I’m practically tapped out, but I made sure to squirrel away enough cash to cover living expenses for a year or two.

Sigh, revenge is a bit exhausting, but I could not let those who did me wrong continue living a life of ease.

With the funds transferred and the paperwork finalized, I went straight to the bank and cancelled my accounts. Next on the list: getting this monstrosity of a house, the one I inherited, on the market, there is no use keeping it. I already contacted a realtor and scheduled a listing appointment for tomorrow. My plan is to use the proceeds to buy a smaller home in some secluded area, maybe up north near the mountains.

The dream is to have a proper garden, a real patch of earth to grow my own vegetables and herbs. And perhaps, just perhaps, open a little general store, something charming and quaint. The thought of his face when he realizes I’m not some helpless heiress anymore, that his meal ticket has vanished into thin air, makes me want to sing. Oh, the look his face, the leech who plans on marrying my step-sister!

I swear, I might actually die of laughter. The best part is, he’s footing the bill for the entire lavish wedding! Useless bastard. He won’t be extracting a single penny from me ever again!

Father, you always preferred the fair-skinned daughter with the perfectly straight hair and delicate, lily-like complexion, didn’t you? Fine. Continue, you useless, pathetic bastard! See how far that gets you!

Comments 1097:

[Ashleybaby: wow with that type of father what you did no one blames you.]

[Cherries_ and/ strawberries : yes, you did good he better not come crawling back!]

[Jollyrancher: wow she was a stupid one glad she had been enlightened.]

[Sillybilly: a round of applause for the fl being enlightened, ah the author had mercy.]

Once upon a bad Christmas

Chapter 3

#Runaway bride#

Chapter 1

If you want to kill someone tragically, how would you do it? Not just any death, but one that leaves a lasting ache in the hearts of those who knew them.

I could list so many ways, a car crash on a rainy night, a sudden illness, but you know what truly qualifies as a tragic death? A death that resonates with the deepest kind of sorrow?

Death from a broken heart.

Hehe.

Imagine the scene: the person you love, the one you’ve built your world around, coldly telling you how they merely used you after you poured everything you had into the relationship. After they greedily devoured all of your love, your very life blood, your breath, your unwavering devotion, and then callously stomped on it, leaving you a hollow shell. The devastation would be complete.

The World of men, is the sad truth. In every era, a woman is always nothing more than cannon fodder, used and discarded. I see it everywhere.

As for those pathetic bitches who are reborn claiming they wish to change their fate, rewrite their past?

What fate?! A predetermined destiny they suddenly find fault with?

When you selfishly change it, what is the inevitable chain reaction? What unforeseen consequences ripple outwards?

Those innocent people who then have to suffer, bear the burden, because of your self-centered actions and desires.

I am awake now. My eyes are finally open.

This world, with all its ugliness and injustice, I am glad I have awakened to its true nature. You want to be selfish and take away my things, exploit my kindness?

Here, have them. Take them all. See if they bring you true happiness.

You want me, a mere passerby in your grand scheme, to become your convenient stepping stone to greater power and influence?

Sorry, I am not willing to help you climb. Find another victim. I refuse to be a pawn in your twisted game.

My ideal form, sculpted in my mind, was that of a model – breasts neither too large, drawing unwanted attention, nor too small, lacking a certain feminine allure. They were just right. And for my dream guy, he’d stand around 2 meters tall, with hands large enough to comfortably encompass my curves. My legs would be long and strong, thick with muscle earned from years of dancing, but not so bulky as to appear masculine. My height, a delicate 1.65 meters, would place the top of my head perfectly at his collarbone, allowing for easy whispers and intimate embraces. I’d have a slim back, defined by Pilates, and a waist small enough for him to easily span with his hands.

That, right there, was the image I clung to – both of myself and the man I was meant to share my life with. It was a carefully constructed fantasy, a beacon of hope in the turbulent sea of reality. But like all dreams, mine shattered against the unforgiving rocks of fate.

Cliché, I suppose, but true nonetheless. My man,  left me after three years for my half-sister. My stepmother, with her calculating eyes, was a venomous snake, constantly whispering insidious doubts in my ear. And my dad, bless his oblivious heart, was a man who should be run over by a truck – not literally, of course, but figuratively. He was so easily manipulated, so blind to the machinations around him. I, as the naive and trusting daughter, should have been smacked with a 2×4 to knock some sense into myself. Ah, I was so gullible, so eager to see the best in everyone, even when the red flags were waving frantically in my face.

Comments 453:

[Curiousgorgeous: wow I’m the first to comment good read author]

[Makeitread: you can tell a new reader by their comments, sigh another sucker has been sucked in.]

[Kiddingdogblood: @Makeitread do not spoil it for the new readers!]

[Suckerforplotholezzzz: I am here for the plotholes.]

[Dearreadermei: You can tell when this book is from her, sucker is here!]

[Crissyandcherries:I am liking so far more more]

[Merrymerri: it’s this author again, like a fool I am drawn in.]

[Stareeeeeee: sigh, I want to bash her. I feel I am about to fall in another hole she dug but I can’t help it. Damn!]

[Aqaqwahhhh: I have toughened my heart. I will not give in to emotions!]

[Reader1234567: I hope you all have a wonder Christmas month so far!]

[Reader1234567: XP]

~~

Slim, well-formed, earth-toned fingers flew across the keyboard as Vanity wrote. Her mind continued to unfold the story of a woman who had a tragic ending due to the fact of the ‘heroine’ being reborn and counter-attacking. Vanity bit her full bottom lip, trying to hide the treacherous smile. She felt excited writing this book, thinking of how many holes she could dig for her readers, gassing them up before making them fall like dead weight.

The full, shapely lips curved into a smirk as the story unfolded before her.

Introductory chapter, chapter 1…4…6…hehe.

She wondered how many readers would give her a one-star this time. How many will outline how much better this book could be?

Her heart felt better, if only for this short time. She continued to write, her mind popping up images that allowed her well-jointed hands to fly across the keyboard like the wind, each word taking form.

She was so deep into this that time flew, yet she was unaware.