I was a supporting female character with a terminal illness. Before I died, I asked the tyrannical CEO, "When is the heroine's next ovulation date?" The CEO cursed angrily: "What? Do you still want to harm her?" I shook my head and explained: "No, I just want to be reincarnated as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!" 1 On the day I died, Ethan Cole, the male lead I had been obsessing over for 10 years without success, stood at my bedside holding a bouquet of blooming red roses. "Do you like them?" I nodded. Ethan waved the flowers in front of me, then threw them into the trash can, adding meanly: "I'd rather throw them away than give them to you." The corner of my mouth twitched, feeling a bit speechless inside, but I decided to ignore him and directly said my last line: "In this life, I have ultimately... paid the wrong price!!" After performing heart-wrenchingly, I closed my eyes peacefully. Unexpectedly. What I waited for was not the notification sound of leaving this dimension. Instead, I got a needle in my butt. "Ah—" I opened my eyes in pain, meeting Ethan's face full of disdain and contempt. He crossed his arms lazily and instructed the doctor: "Don't let her die. Inject as much adrenaline as you can. Also, unplug the oxygen mask; it's a waste of money. For such a vicious woman who has done so much evil, she shouldn't die easily. Torture her severely, make her beg for life but unable to live, beg for death but unable to die!" "?" The doctor glanced at me sympathetically and raised the syringe again, aiming for my butt. "Hold the needle!" I stopped him. And spat at Ethan: "You will be punished for treating a dying person like this!" "Luna Miller, you really are a dead pig not afraid of boiling water. Still stubborn when death is imminent." Ethan lit a cigarette and shamelessly blew the smoke into my face, making me cough from the second-hand smoke. "Cough cough—" Seeing that I couldn't even speak properly, a wave of grievance filled my heart. Very good! Ethan, you forced me! I quickly grabbed Ethan's clothes and asked ferociously: "Tell me, how many days until Stella's follicles mature, gradually migrate to the surface of the ovary and protrude outward, finally thinning the cells near the surface of the ovary, and finally rupturing causing most of the follicular fluid to flow out?" Ethan didn't understand. He frowned, confused: "What?" My teeth itched with anger, hating this uncultured bumpkin CEO. No choice. I could only ask bluntly: "What date is Stella's next ovulation period?" Ethan raged: "What? Do you still want to harm her?" I sneered: "You don't truly love her. You can't even remember this clearly. What kind of good man can't remember a woman's physiological period!" "Bullshit, who said I don't remember!" Ethan took out his phone. It's hard to imagine he actually downloaded a period tracking app on his phone. It accurately prompts the user's ovulation period, physiological period, and fertile period. Ethan muttered unconsciously while looking: "So it's the 19th of this month..." Realizing he slipped up, he started venting on me again. "You poisonous woman, did you think of some shady trick to provoke me and Stella again? I tell you, no way!" I shook my head and explained: "No, I just want to be reincarnated as your daughter in my next life and torture you to death!" "Alright, off to reincarnation." After speaking, I happily kicked the bucket. The main point was not to dawdle. Not to add trouble to the medical staff. In the last second before my consciousness disappeared, I still heard Ethan roar in panic: "No—don't let her die! Shock her! Shock her back to life!" 2 After death, I floated in the air, watching Ethan work overtime until 2 AM every night before going home. The reason was, Stella wanted to carry out a baby-making plan with him. Ethan watched the calendar approach the 19th day by day, stubble growing on his chin. Finally. On the night of the 19th, Stella sneaked into the office to catch her Ethan and forced herself on him. For the scenes not suitable for children, I chose to see no evil, hear no evil. Finally. 10 minutes later, I waited for that last moment. Ethan looked up and shouted: "No—" And I, quickly turning into a white light, ran towards them: "Charge—" 3 When I was conscious again. I was already a tiny life. Although I couldn't see or move, I could hear the outside sounds: "Hubby, good news, I'm pregnant!" This delicate lolita voice was 100% the heroine of this dimension, Stella. But next came Ethan's fearful and trembling voice: "No, we can't keep this child." "Why?" Stella's voice immediately turned cold. Ethan thought for a moment, lowering his voice as if afraid I would hear: "I consulted a master. A child conceived on the 19th is a cursed star, the reincarnation of an evil landlord. If born, it can only be a devil child. Can't keep it, can't keep it." "Be good, let's wait a few years!" Stella sneered: "What excuses are you making?" "I think you are mourning. Your childhood sweetheart sister Luna died, you are heartbroken and want to mourn for her for three years, can't have happy events, right?" Ethan quickly defended himself: "Babe, what nonsense are you talking about? I never liked her. I'm too happy she died." "Okay okay okay, we'll keep it, we'll keep it." At 2 AM. I heard Ethan, who hadn't slept yet, seemingly kowtowing to Stella's belly: "Please, as long as it's not Luna, even if you are Red Boy or the Bull Demon King, it's fine." "If really not possible, even if it's a lazy sheep, I can accept it." Then he started talking to himself, doing psychological counseling for himself: "No, it won't be that coincidental that she can succeed in reincarnation here. Coincidence, everything is a coincidence." "Amitabha, Buddha bless..." ... A few months later. Ethan took Stella for a checkup. Stella said she wanted a daughter. The examining doctor smiled gently and said: "Then maybe your dream will come true." The atmosphere was originally lively. If Ethan hadn't screamed. "She!! She gave me a peace sign!" Stella and the doctor cast him a look reserved for idiots. Ethan, a dignified 6'2" man, was shaking in front of the ultrasound machine. "That... the child my wife is carrying... just now, in that image, gave me a peace sign..." He tried to explain to everyone. But who would believe such absurd words. The doctor smoothed things over with a smile: "Oh, look, your husband is just too excited. Although a six-month-old child has hands and feet, they can't make a peace sign." Inside Stella's belly, I almost laughed myself out of breath. Yes, I just made a peace sign. Just to scare this son of a b*tch to death. The night after the checkup. I heard Ethan brainwashing himself again: "No, no... even if it's a daughter, it's not necessarily her. Ethan, don't scare yourself. Relax, God definitely won't make things difficult for you." 4 The day I was born was probably Ethan's most desperate day. I heard the nurse ask Stella several times: "Mother, where is your husband?" Stella said: "He probably has a phobia of not being ready to be a father. He went to the toilet 30 times in an hour." Pity. Even if Ethan blew up the toilet, I still had to be born. "Wah wah—" With my crying as I fell to the ground. The nurse happily held me to Ethan: "Congratulations Mr. Cole, your wife gave birth to a daughter." I carefully opened one eye to look at Ethan. Ethan looked panicked. He grabbed the nurse like he was having a seizure and asked: "Nurse, do you think this child looks like me and my wife?" The nurse froze. She stammered: "Looks like... very much like..." Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, finally showing a trace of a smile on his face: "That's good, that's good." I almost laughed out loud. Did the nurse dare to say no? Ethan put me back in the crib and pushed the still sleeping Stella back to the private ward. While patting my back gently, he sighed: "Haha, my luck is so good." "Luna Miller, you still failed! Hahaha, hahahaha—" While the nurses went out to handle the birth procedures. I opened my eyes and gave Ethan a 45-degree smile. Using a milky voice, I said: "Grandson, Daddy is here for revenge!" Ethan's smile froze on his face. He mechanically, frame by frame, turned back to look at me: "What, did, you, say." Because I was just born and my speech was a bit slurred, I repeated with a lisp: "Son, I am your daaaad—" Before I could finish the rest. Ethan stood up, his trembling hands strangling my neck: "Luna! You little brat, now I am your dad!" "Believe it or not, I'll strangle you!" I stuck out my tongue: "Strangle, strangle now!" Ethan really did it, not afraid of snapping my weak and fragile throat. I started wailing directly: "Wah wah ah wah wah wah—" The more I cried, the harder Ethan squeezed. Crying until the end, I didn't even have the strength to make a sound. Without looking in the mirror, I could guess that my pink and jade-carved little face had been turned blue and black by this dog man. "Hehe, die!" Ethan prepared to increase the intensity again. At the critical moment, Stella suddenly woke up. Not knowing where she got the strength, she got up from the delivery bed and kicked Ethan straight on: "If you break my sister's wings, I will destroy your entire heaven." Me: "?" Ethan: "?"
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