Do Nothing: How To Break Away From Overworking, Overdoing, And Underliving

Those words defined Claire Reid's entire life—and her death. At twenty-eight, she dies in a hospital bed surrounded by the family she sacrificed everything for: the father who forced her to quit school, the sister who took everything she had, the husband who treated her like an inconvenience, and the mother who demanded endless gratitude for their abuse. As her heart stops, Claire sees their relief and realizes the devastating truth: she wasted her life loving people who never loved her back. Then she wakes up. One year earlier. One month before her family frames her for theft. This time, Claire refuses. Refuses to give money. Refuses to stay silent. Refuses to be grateful for crumbs. Armed with knowledge of their betrayals and a fury born from her wasted first life, she systematically dismantles their manipulations, exposes their schemes, and reclaims her identity. But when she tries to leave her cold, arranged marriage, something unexpected happens.

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms. If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go. If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early. The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot. Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone. Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off. I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me. For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had. I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him. But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore. Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

I was the stingiest rich wife in the city’s high society. I did not spend money on beauty treatments or travel. In fact, I did not even own a single decent outfit or a handbag. Everyone laughed at me. They said I had the fortune of a wealthy family but not the luck to enjoy it. However, what they did not know was that behind closed doors, Arvid Hans, who was famous for his lavish spending, was a hundred times stingier than I was. He piled on gold and jewels to keep up appearances in public. However, with me, he was a miser, refusing to spend a single extra penny. We split every expense down to the last penny. Every meal and every prescription required a receipt and an entry in the ledger. He said this was to help me develop a business mindset. He said that fairness and caution were the keys to a lasting relationship. While other wives were decked out in expensive jewelry, I was dressed simply. He said I was naturally beautiful and did not need such trinkets to enhance my looks. Even our housekeeper was hoarding gold for investment. Yet he kept me from touching a single penny, citing the Hans family’s tradition of being frugal. For three years of marriage, I lived like a devout nun, strictly adhering to the “rules of frugality” he had tailored for me. It was not until Christmas Eve, when I returned a day early from visiting my parents, that I discovered someone else had been living the life of luxury meant for me.

Donna Sofia Marino's birthday is held on Valentine's Day. When Francesco Rossi, the Underboss of the Costa family, announces the news on behalf of Don Enzo Costa, everyone in the family is very happy. Well, everyone but me. As expected, Francesco is quick to add, "Someone needs to guard the headquarters. Camilla, you'll be the one in charge of this task." "What the Underboss means is that you don't really carry out any missions in your daily life. Besides, you have tons of spare time anyway. This time, you are to guard the headquarters so that you can deal with any emergencies that might arise." I just smirk sarcastically. The truth is, I'm always the one dealing with the most dangerous matters concerning the Costa family. The transactions of the firearms worth hundreds of millions of dollars are successfully carried out thanks to the plan I've spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. When a crossfire breaks out, I'm always on the frontlines, fighting for the family's glory despite getting injured. While I'm given the title as the executive director, I'm never given any actual power. In truth, my standing is lower than that of a soldato. I'm always the one carrying out the hardest, the most menial, not to mention the most dangerous tasks. But every time credit is given, it's never given to me. I've been enduring this injustice for five long years. This time, I no longer want to keep enduring anymore. With a smile on my face, I stand up from my seat. "Alright then, Underboss Rossi. I shall guard the headquarters. But this will be the last time I ever do this. After this task is completed, I will officially leave the Costa family once and for all."

Yesterday, my fiancé told me he didn’t have time to come home with me for the holidays, but secretly, he had booked a flight to my hometown. I couldn’t help feeling a quiet thrill. Justin Baker had always been good at surprises back when we were dating. I just didn’t expect that now, when we were practically like an old married couple, he’d still do something like this. I was just about to tell my dad the news when my stepsister suddenly dropped a message in the family group chat that she was bringing her boyfriend home for the holidays. The relatives in the family immediately started teasing her, wanting to see what he looked like. The next second, photo after photo of her and Justin’s couple pictures flooded the chat. “I told you he’s really handsome, right? And he’s the same age as me.” “Oh wow, you locked him down so young? Dawn, you’re impressive.” “Hmph, of course. He’s crazy about me.” I stopped breathing. So that was why, when he found out I’d be spending the holidays at my mom’s place this year, he suddenly said he didn’t have time to come with me. It was because he already knew we wouldn’t run into each other. My hands trembled as I sent him one last message. [I’ve returned the engagement gift to you. We’re done.]