How To Assemble A Novel Nest At Home?

I was adopted. They were so good to me that every night before I fell asleep, I prayed to grow up healthy and happy in this home. Then Mom got pregnant. I hid under my covers and cried all night, quietly packing the little suitcase I had arrived with. But they didn't send me away. They loved me even more. The day my brother was born, Mom took my hand and gently stroked my head. "Having an older sister," she said, "is why we have a younger brother." Dad lifted me above his head and spun me around laughing. "Lily is our family's lucky star — our most beloved baby!" I finally stopped dreading every single day. I thought I had truly become part of this family. Then my brother snapped my favorite Barbie in half. I pushed him. He stumbled, sat on the floor, stared for two seconds, and burst into tears. Mom panicked, shoved me aside, and pulled him into her arms, asking over and over if he was hurt. Dad came running. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall, eyes blazing. "Is this what I raised you all these years for — to bully your brother? Believe me when I say I will send you straight back to—"

When I'm paying the heating bill, I find out that my wife, Violet Jensen, has two accounts under her name. The first account belongs to our home. The second account goes to a unit in a high-end private residential area. The remark on the account shows two words that say "love nest". Love nest. I don't know who on earth Violet is sharing that nest with, but I know where that address is. After all, that's the apartment I bought at full price before my marriage.

After our father died, my sister and I inherited a fortune, a luxury villa, and a tiny convenience store. She took the money and the mansion without hesitation, leaving me with the old shop everyone looked down on. One month later, the apocalypse began. A zombie outbreak swept through the world overnight. The rich became trapped in their homes with no food, no power, and no way out. My sister, once proud of her mansion and millions, ended up starving behind locked gates. Meanwhile, I survived comfortably inside the convenience store I had rebuilt into a fortress, living off endless supplies of snacks, canned food, and soda. When my sister collapsed on the streets begging for help, I risked my life to save her. But greed was stronger than gratitude. After eating my food and recovering her strength, she waited until I fell asleep… then threw me outside to be torn apart by zombies. The moment I died, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day we divided the inheritance. This time, my sister smugly grabbed the convenience store first, convinced she had stolen the better deal. What she didn’t know was that I had been reborn too. And this time, I came back with a Apocalypse Survival System. While she fought over scraps, the villa she abandoned would become the safest shelter left in the world.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

My sister and I married into the Phoenix Clan at the same time and, coincidentally, gave birth at the same time. After my sister birthed a purebred golden phoenix, the eldest prince she married was immediately crowned the next leader of the Phoenix Clan. Meanwhile, I gave birth to a mixed-bred pheasant and was condemned to death along with my husband, who was the second prince. It was only after my death that I found out the pheasant was my sister’s child! It was a ploy concocted by her and the eldest prince. The goal was to hide the bastard bloodline of the eldest prince and steal the throne of the Phoenix Clan. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been reborn. I didn't give birth, and my sister was visiting me with a haul of supplements…

Vera fought for her life in the apocalypse for ten years. Ten brutal years left her disfigured, hungry, and almost broken, but she still clawed her way through it. She killed zombies, ran from mutated animals, starved, bled, and learned humans were often more dangerous than monsters. Then her brother, the only family she had left, betrayed her. Vera thought death had finally come. Instead, she woke up inside a trashy book she once read to stay sane while the old world fell apart. A book with a twisted plot and too much drama. And because her luck had always been terrible, Vera did not wake up as the heroine. No, of course not. Her second chance was to become the hated second female lead, pregnant, unwanted, and written to die when the plot no longer needed her. Her babies were supposed to die too. Even the three men who got her pregnant were written as future corpses, all to push the story toward spoiled women and one psychotic male lead. But Vera was not the woman from the book. She had survived one ruined world. She had not walked through radioactive rain and eaten mutated food just to cry over fantasy characters or beg for love inside a stupid plot. So Vera adapted. She accepted her punishment, took her three unborn babies, and left for the garbage center without making a scene. Everyone thought she had been thrown away. Vera saw a chance to make money, protect her babies, and build something of her own. Now the woman meant to disappear is building a wasteland empire, breaking the plot, and driving three men insane because she no longer chases anyone. By every rule in that world, Vera should be dead. But dying a second time was never an option.