

Erin marries Kane, the heir to a powerful mafia family, and they have a daughter named Lily. However, Lily becomes seriously ill and needs a bone marrow transplant. When the second bone marrow donation is unexpectedly canceled, five-year-old Lily does not live long enough for a new donor to be found. Carrying her daughter’s ashes and a drawing Lily made, Erin goes to find her husband, only to catch Kane having an affair with Chloe, the donor. Erin also learns that Kane allowed Chloe to withdraw from the donation.Erin decides to divorce Kane, but Chloe frames her for a car accident, and Kane has her locked inside one of the mafia family’s factories, where she is tortured. As soon as Erin is released from the factory, she goes to Kane’s mother, Victoria, and signs the divorce agreement. To fulfill her daughter’s final wish, Erin takes Lily’s drawing to Chloe’s birthday party. However, Chloe deliberately humiliates her. Erin is then burned with sulfuric acid and imprisoned in a basement. During her captivity, the fractures in her hand, her burns, and her previous injuries become severely infected because they are left untreated. After Victoria removes her from the basement, Erin leaves Kane for good.It is not until Kane learns of Lily’s death and discovers what Chloe and Victoria did to Erin that he realizes his own actions have driven his wife and daughter away.After escaping, Erin collapses outside an airport and is rescued by Noah, her former high school classmate. Following nearly three months of treatment and recovery, Erin lays her daughter to rest, finds work, and begins rebuilding her life. Kane tracks her down, publicly admits his wrongdoing, and uses a dangerous car collision to beg her to reconcile with him. Erin firmly rejects him.In the end, the police take Kane in for questioning in connection with Chloe’s death. Erin builds a new life with Noah and receives a confirmation letter approving her return to Bay University.

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

Driven to the edge, Rachel Yale makes a desperate gamble—using herself as bait to draw close to Louis Brown, Newfork's most untouchable power figure. He is ruthless, distant, a man said to have no heart. He sees her motives clearly—yet allows her closer. What begins as disdain and indulgent play turns into dangerous attraction. The god of power falls from his pedestal, becoming her shield, her storm, and her only refuge.

When my appendix bursts, my parents, my brother, and even my fiancé are all too busy celebrating my sister's birthday. I'm outside the operating room, frantically calling every family member I can think of to sign the consent form, but every call is either ignored or hung up on. After hanging up on me, my fiancé, Joel Graham, texts back. "Sophie, stop being dramatic. It's Yvette's 18th birthday today. Whatever it is can wait until after the party." I quietly set my phone down and sign the consent form myself. It's the ninety-ninth time they've chosen Yvette Norton, my sister, over me. This time, I choose not to care. I'll stop letting their favoritism hurt me. Instead, I'll do everything they ask of me without complaint. They'll all think I've finally learned to be obedient, and they'll never realize that I'm preparing to leave them for good.

In Part Two of GoodChat, Alexa Reddy and Fulop Budavari turn up the fun with games that test their quick wit and sense of humor: from decoding movie titles using only three emojis to a hilarious round of “Kiss, Marry, Kill” featuring Alexa’s former co-stars. The laughs soon give way to reflection as Alexa opens up about her passion for acting, the lessons she’s learned, and the heartfelt advice she’d give her younger self.

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.
![[ENG DUB] A Night He Planned for Years](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Elite lawyer Kylin Taylor walks into a cafe and finds her fiance Zane Walker attending tenderly to his mistress. She doesn't make a scene. That night, she slides a condom into a legal contract and hands it to Zane's closest friend, David Evans, Eryland's most talked-about playboy. "Hotel tonight? It's on me." What begins as cold, surgical revenge becomes something stranger: she uses David to deliver Zane a humiliation; David plays along with every sign of enjoying himself.But as the game deepens, he drops the act entirely and and starts betting everything he has on her instead of the thrill. Kylin realizes, with a jolt, that she never had control of this board to begin with. Someone laid these pieces into position ten years ago, and it wasn't her.

In her past life, Vivian Walker forced Isaac Lowe to marry her, only to live in loneliness and regret. On her deathbed, deceived by Isaac's first love, Gigi Smith, she died believing he had never cared for her. But when Vivian opens her eyes again, she's back forty years in the past—right at the moment she threw away her future for Isaac. This time, she doesn't think twice. With a deep breath, she tears up the withdrawal form, choosing herself and the life she deserves.

The night before our group trip, Raymond Kane tags me in the group chat and tells me to check my flight ticket. When I open the booking, I discover my ticket was refunded three days ago—without anyone telling me. Before I can even type a reply, the messages start pouring in. Madelyn announces, "I bet Ray that you wouldn't check the booking before we left. He got you to look it up yourself. That's cheating!" Raymond shrugs it off. "Doesn't matter. You still lost. She only just found out. Just book another one. We'll just have to sit apart." Their casual banter brings back a familiar ache. It reminds me of the time they bet on how long it would take me to realize my hotel room has been downgraded from a standard double to a shared triple, leaving me to sleep on a folding cot. And before that, they bet on whether I'd notice the art museum on our itinerary had been replaced with an escape room. Whenever I tell them it hurts, they always give the same tired reply. "How were we supposed to know you cared if you never said anything?" But they never ask. I close the booking app and open another one, searching for flights to Isvind. I imagine myself surrounded by the silence of a 5°F night, with the northern lights painting the sky above me. Perhaps a solo trip is exactly what I need.