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I Owed the King of Hell 100 Million, and My Bestie Paid It Of Novel Cover

I Owed the King of Hell 100 Million, and My Bestie Paid It Of

After a disastrous poker game in the afterlife leaves me owing the King of Hell one hundred million, I weep until he grants me a temporary return to the living world on All Souls Day. My mission? Convince my best friend, Amelia, to bail me out. But Amelia is the tragic heroine of a melodramatic story, and I find her standing on a rooftop, ready to end it all. To stop her, I must weaponize her most humiliating secret: the time she wept over a primary schooler she met online.
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Chapter 3

Of course, Grandpa Arthur hadn't treated Janine unfairly. He'd even set up a trust fund just for her—though the amount was nowhere near what the real Wright family heirs received.

Not long after arranging everything, Grandpa Arthur passed away due to illness.

On the day of his funeral, Janine didn't show up. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

At first, everyone just complained about how ungrateful and disrespectful she was. But as night fell and she still couldn't be reached, panic spread through the entire family.

They all split up to search for her, including Amelia.

By midnight, there was still no sign of Janine.

Then, just as everyone was losing hope, Madam Wright's phone rang. It was Janine.

The call lasted only a second—just enough for her to scream, "Help me!"

Soon after, the line went dead.

Using the phone's location, the family rushed to find her.

They arrived at a run-down house on the outskirts of the city. Janine was standing on the rooftop, trembling, like someone was forcing her toward the edge.

Just as the Wrights called out to her—she fell.

When they looked up in shock, they saw Amelia standing on the same rooftop.

Meanwhile, Janine, barely conscious, murmured weakly as she was carried away, "Sister... I'll never steal our family from you again... Please... don't hurt me..."

From that day on, Amelia's shares were transferred back to Janine, and she became the most hated person in the Wright household.

Now, back at the dinner table, Kenneth's accusations echoed in her ears. Amelia stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

She just watched, blankly, as one by one, her family members turned away and left the dining room.

Then, quietly, she walked to the farthest corner of the villa and sat on her bed in silence. Her fingers trembled slightly, the only sign that she hadn't gone completely numb.

I floated to stand before her, speaking firmly. "There's no way you did that to Janine. You're not that kind of person."

She lifted her head, tears spilling freely down her face. "Sherry... they don't believe me. Not a single one of them..."

"That day, I was out looking for Janine too. Then I got a text—an address saying she was there. I rushed over, but the moment she saw me, she smiled... and jumped."

"I swear, I didn't do anything."

I stayed beside her, quietly keeping her company until her sobs faded into shaky breaths.

Then she whispered, "Thank you, Sherry."

I waved her off. "Please, you didn't even dare skip class to get bubble tea with me back then—you think I'd believe you had the guts to push someone off a roof? Only that bunch of brainless walnuts in your family would believe such nonsense!"

Amelia actually laughed through her tears. "Don't worry, Sherry. I've got another plan. I'll definitely get you that money."

I thought she'd come up with some brilliant schemes, but I was wrong.

The next morning, she marched straight to Denver's company—with divorce papers in hand.

On the way there, she smiled shyly.

"Sherry, if I divorce Denver and split the marital assets, I can get enough money to pay off your debt!"

I was about to tell her not to sacrifice her happiness for me when she suddenly squared her shoulders and stormed into the building. But the moment we stepped inside, the receptionist stopped her.

"Good morning, Ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"

I couldn't help sneering, "Wow. You need an appointment to see your own husband?"

Amelia blushed slightly and whispered to the receptionist, "I'm Mr. Fletcher's wife. Could you please tell him I need to see him?"

The receptionist's expression turned icy and disdainful. "Madam, if you're going to pretend, at least try harder. Mr. Fletcher is currently dining with his wife in the lounge. If you don't leave, I'll have to call security."

Amelia's face went completely pale.

She turned to me, panic flickering in her eyes—and then suddenly dashed toward the elevator.

The receptionist immediately shouted, "Security! Security!"

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