General Hospital Monica Dies Dramas & Movies

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Zoey Shaw wakes up inside a novel as the infamous villainess doomed to a tragic end.Refusing to follow the same path, she decides to rewrite her fate—no self-destruction, no foolish choices, just survival and a new beginning. When a shameless ex and a scheming rival show up to cause trouble, she’s ready. This time, she protects her husband, claims her happiness, and crushes every plot against her. She clears her family’s name and rises from ruin to glory.

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Lucas Fuller was obsessively in love with Vivian Ashford,daughter of his family's driver, pursuing her from college and finally getting married. However, Vivian's heart belonged to Alfie Collier, and together they conspired to kill Lucas by exploiting his diabetes, tempting him with food until he died. In his final moments, Lucas witnessed a heartfelt confession from Isabel Harlow, who had also once struggled with obesity. Upon being reborn, Lucas returns to Alfie's birthday celebration where he sees Vivian attempting the same manipulative tactics, using him as an ATM. This time, Lucas changes his fate by exposing Vivian’s deception and publicly professing his love to Isabel, despite facing ridicule. Lucas and Isabel make a pact to win a modeling competition to humiliate Vivian and Alfie.

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In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.