

Fletcher Fields, a brilliant lawyer, gets a second chance at life after a tragic miscarriage of justice. In his previous life,forged evidence led to the wrongful execution of his father-in-law and drove his wife, Camillia, to suicide. Reborn with the truth, Fletcher is now hell-bent on clearing Jorge's name. In a retrial, he exposes tampered surveillance footage and unveils a web of lies, bringing the real killer to justice and securing a future with his beloved Camillia.

College student David Gray is temporarily staying with his cousin, Joseph Gray, in a rural village when he accidentally uncovers a shocking secret between Joseph and his daughter-in-law, Holly Ware. After Holly desperately pleads for his help, the kind-hearted David finds himself torn between family loyalty and doing what's right…

Leah Sinclair and Fiona Sinclair had their identities switched for eighteen years. After Leah returned to her biological family, her parents doted on Fiona more than her. To steal Leah's fiancé, Vincent Parker, Fiona poisoned Vincent’s sister, Yvonne, and framed Leah, resulting in Leah being sent to a reform boot camp for three years. There, Leah endured inhumane treatment and lost one leg. No one believed Leah was innocent until Yvonne woke up...

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."