

Ray, a former FBI ace agent, chose to live incognito as a low-level mechanic just to return to his family. On the eve of the zombie apocalypse, he is brutally betrayed by his manipulative, social-climbing wife and humiliated by a Wall Street elite who strips him of his fortune. With a cold sneer, Ray signs the papers and retreats with his adopted daughter into a subterranean, nuclear-grade fortified bunker—a stronghold that drained his entire life savings.

Ethan Cole, a top-tier aviation legend in his previous life, dies as a national aviation legend. He is reborn as an 8-year-old boy on the same flight where he once flew with his father. Only this time, he knows the truth: Flight 8236 is going to crash, and everyone on board will die. At 9,000 meters above sea level, fire begins to burn along the wings. The fuselage cracks open into freezing air. As panic spreads across the cabin, Ethan realizes he is the only one who understands what is coming. Trapped in a child’s body, he must stop the disaster and save his father—the man he loves most—before it is too late.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?