At my engagement party, I saw my fiancé's broke young assistant slip an aphrodisiac into his drink. I didn't want the celebration I had spent months planning to be ruined, so I quietly asked a server to replace the glass. Moments later, she ended up in the arms of a trust-fund playboy. A secret video leaked. Her reputation was destroyed, and she eventually took her own life. After her death, Victor Hall, cold and arrogant as ever, forced me down in the dirt at her grave. Then he made me swallow a drug that kept wounds from healing and tortured me to death. Only then did I learn that she had been the woman he truly loved all along. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our engagement party.

Adrian Vale, heir to one of Ashford City's wealthiest families, offered my sister, Clara Bennett, $20,000 a month to be his mistress. She was 6 weeks away from her wedding. I quietly deleted his text. She became a teacher, married her four-year boyfriend, Ethan Brooks, and settled into a comfortable life. Then, 3 years later, she ran into Adrian at the hospital. He was there with his girlfriend for a prenatal appointment. When my sister learned what I'd done, she hated me for it. She said I'd ruined her chance to marry into his family. The day his lavish wedding to his "Cinderella" became headline news, she pushed me off the hotel roof. When I got a second chance at life, I left the text alone. This time, I wouldn't stop her. I would watch her walk straight into hell.

The first time I video-called my online boyfriend, my face was swollen from an allergic reaction. A new wolfkin soothing cream had landed me in the clinic, and when I got back, my eyes were still swollen into narrow slits. I had grown up hearing people call me pretty. Never once had I imagined that this was how he would see me for the first time. Mortified, I tried to cover the camera, but Ash laughed and told me not to hide. "Nora, the person I like is the one who talks to me every day. What does it matter what you look like?" After the call, he still chatted with me every night. He even kept asking about my flight, saying he would come pick me up. Ash: Come sooner. I've already decided where I'm taking you for breakfast. I moved my flight back 3 days and even picked out the dress I'd wear when we met. As the plane approached Cedarhaven, I connected to the in-flight Wi-Fi and saw a trending post on the game forum. OP: [I pretended to be the perfect boyfriend for 6 weeks to get revenge on someone I met in a game.] OP: [She ambushed me in the swamp, killed me 7 times in a row, and stole my limited-edition banner. So I made a new account, got close to her, sweet-talked her into dating me, and invited her to cross state lines to meet me.] OP: [She thinks I'm picking her up? She can wait at the airport.] Some people in the comments called him despicable. Others asked whether a game was really worth 6 weeks of effort. He soon posted another reply. OP: [I did start having second thoughts. She's good company. I almost told her everything and tried dating her for real.] OP: [Then we video-called, and I regretted it. Looking like that, did she really think I'd want to be seen with her?] OP: [She claimed it was an allergic reaction. After we hung up, she sent me two photos of some beautiful girl and said that was what she normally looked like.] OP: [Those pictures were obviously taken from the internet. If she were really that pretty, why would she need to date someone online?]

In my previous life, my younger sister and I both married into the Blackthorn Pack. I was the eldest daughter of Silvermoon's Alpha, and everyone said I was the obvious choice to become Blackthorn's next Luna. Yet in the fifth year of my marriage, the baby I had fought so hard to conceive was rejected by Blackthorn's bloodline registry. My husband decided I had betrayed him. He killed our baby in front of me, then threw me into an abandoned silver mine. My sister, meanwhile, gave his younger brother a legitimate heir and became Luna in a blaze of glory. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the mating ball. My husband walked right past me and fastened the engagement necklace around my sister's neck. That was when I knew he had traveled back as well. He thought choosing another woman would give him an heir his father approved of. What he didn't know was that he wasn't the Blackthorn Alpha's biological son at all. I couldn't wait to see whom he would blame after my sister gave birth.

After the campus charity night run, I hid under the covers with my new massage gun. Uncle S—Simon Ashford—pushed open the door and asked, deadpan, "Does it really feel that good?" I nodded hard. The massage felt incredible. Later, he pulled off his tie and looped it around my wrists. "It's too small." Huh? "And too slow." Wait, what? "Try me instead." Excuse me?! Uncle S, that's just a massage gun!

Over Labor Day weekend, I joined my wife's hiking club without telling her, hoping to surprise her. Instead, I found her sharing a tent with another man. At the check-in desk at the foot of the mountain, the receptionist handed a wooden tag to the blond man ahead of me. "Dean, Rachel's already waiting for you in Tent 3." He shook the paper bag in his hand, looking pleased with himself. "I had to make a last-minute stop for her present. She's always complaining that she gets here before I do." "And the moment you show up, she forgets all about it. Two years together, and you still act like you just started dating." At the sound of Rachel's name, my hand tightened around my backpack strap. My wife's name was Rachel, too.

My daughter, Irene Harper, was born with a heart condition. After my husband died, I lived in constant fear that I might leave her all alone someday. So I decided to adopt a few older boys who could look after her when I was gone. In my previous life, I chose the four brightest boys at a foster care center. But just as I was filling out the adoption papers, they formed a protective wall around a little girl named Emilia Sutton. "Mrs. Harper, if Emilia can't come with us, we're not going either." I agreed to take her too. Over the next 10 years, I gave my four adopted sons the best education money could buy and every opportunity to succeed. I treated Emilia like a princess, showering her with just as much love and attention. I believed that when I grew old, they would be there to protect Irene. How wrong I was. One day, Emilia slipped a necklace into Irene's backpack and accused her of stealing it. Instead of believing Irene, her four brothers dragged her into the school auditorium and forced her to kneel while the other students filmed and mocked her. Then they locked her in the gym equipment room. When Irene suffered a heart attack, she managed to borrow a phone. After several desperate attempts, she finally got through to her eldest brother, Kealy Walsh. But Kealy merely said, "You can come out when you're ready to apologize to Emilia." Then he hung up. By the time I reached my daughter, her little hand had already gone cold. I cut all five of them out of my life and set about reclaiming control of my company. But I soon discovered that they'd forged documents and transferred my shares out of my name. On my way to meet my attorney, a truck slammed into my car, sending it careening off the road. Behind the wheel was the adopted son I'd trusted more than anyone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the foster care center. The four boys stood by the window, shielding Emilia behind them, just as they had before. "If Emilia can't come with us, we're not going either." I tightened my grip on Irene's small, warm hand. "Fine. Then you can all stay."

For five years, I was Audrey Mercer to the world and Stan Hawthorne's secret lover behind closed doors. I thought we'd done a good job keeping it hidden. Then one day, an anonymous post popped up on my feed: OP: [Meet the most pathetic employee at Hawthorne Capital. She works herself to the bone for the CEO by day and warms his bed at night. His first love got a $1 million year-end bonus. Even the interns got bonuses worth 10 months' salary. She got nothing.] OP: [Five years with no promotion and the lowest performance rating every single year. Meanwhile, his first love worked her way up to director.] Someone commented: A: [Maybe she's just bad at her job?] The original poster replied: OP: [She was the one who trained his first love. What she doesn't know is that even after she transferred to another department, his first love kept handling her performance reviews, all with the boss's special approval.] OP: [And the funniest part? She still pretends she barely knows the boss at work. Meanwhile, his first love has already told everyone how she threw herself at him and spent night after night at his place.]

After 5 years of marriage, Ethan Whitmore and I had 2 sons. All that time, I devoted myself to my husband and boys, always believing that if I sacrificed just a little more, our family would be a little happier. I thought Ethan would remember everything I'd done for him. Instead, he cheated on me. With his 22-year-old blonde secretary—young, beautiful, and slim enough to fit into the dresses I had worn before we married. I ran crying to my wealthy mother, Catherine Harper. Her expression darkened as she listened. "That bastard certainly knows how to enjoy himself! If he can have a lover, why can't you? I've sponsored more than 12 college students. Take your pick." My sobs stopped short. "Mom, are you telling me to cheat?" She lifted her chin. "I'm telling you to enjoy yourself for once."

When I miscarried after a car accident, my Alpha fiancé arrived at the scene in a helicopter. The rescue line was already dangling outside my window. I reached for it with everything I had, but he spoke into his headset instead. "Pull the line back up. The smell of blood will make Lia lose control. We need to get her out of here first." The rope rose just beyond my fingertips. He flew away with Lia, leaving me trapped in the mangled car, covered in blood. Late that night, I found Lia's crescent-moon earring beside our bed. A strand of her long blonde hair was still tangled in the pillow. I placed the earring by the front door and calmly made a call. "Maeve, I've made up my mind. I can start working for you next Monday."

On a nationally televised food show, Brooke Ellis announced that she was dating Derrick Henley. Then she looked across the cooking station at me. "Some girls should understand that texting someone else's boyfriend in the middle of the night is seriously inappropriate." The studio audience broke into knowing laughter. The pretzel in my mouth nearly fell out. I had, in fact, texted Derrick at 11:00 p.m. the night before. Eunice: Did you take my game console on tour? Get your ass back here. And I did it because he was my brother.

Only 3 hours after we got our marriage license, my new husband, Nathan Carter, placed an earring in my palm. "Give it back to Vivian for me." I recognized the silver swallow. 5 years ago, my best friend, Vivian Shaw, had been wearing it when I caught her in bed with my ex-husband, Owen Bennett. "How did her earring end up with you?" "I slept with her." He smirked, licking the corner of his mouth. "Last night. I took it off before we got into bed so it wouldn't hurt her. She's so much sexier than you." I stared numbly at the wedding ring on my finger as pain spread through my chest. That very morning, he had told me his only regret wasn't meeting me sooner. When I discovered my ex-husband and best friend's betrayal, Nathan stayed beside me through the darkest days. Over the next 5 years, he slowly made me believe I could begin again. And now, at last, I had married him. But before we'd even signed the marriage license, he had slept with the same woman.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I took the test results to Ethan Blackwell's apartment, hoping to surprise him. I never expected my older brother, Owen Reed, to come back with him. I hurried into the butler's pantry and hid. Then I heard Owen ask with a laugh, "You've kept her a secret for 3 years. Are you still not going to tell me who the bride is?" I tightened my grip on the gift box and barely dared to breathe. Ethan and I had been secretly dating for 3 years, and my brother had never known. Was Ethan finally going to make our relationship public? Through the door, I heard him answer with a laugh. "Celia. We got married last week."

An injury had left the Wolf King, Lucien Blackthorn, with little chance of fathering a child. After years without one, he had no choice but to name his nephew, Sebastian Blackthorn, as his heir. Then he met me, Alice Sinclair, and I became pregnant with his child. For the first time in years, he had hope. He sent me to a private clinic so I could safely carry the baby to term. But Sebastian's wife, Victoria Ashford, stormed in with her men and yanked me by the hair. "You think getting pregnant with some bastard means you can force me to hand over my husband?" I told her the baby belonged to the Wolf King, but she crushed my mate badge beneath her heel. "If he could father children, why would he ever name my husband his heir?" She beat me until I went into premature labor, then injured my baby while trying to snatch him away. I held my gasping child and begged her to let the nurse through, but she ordered her men to block the door. Then the Wolf King arrived. He shoved her aside and pulled me, battered and bleeding, into his arms. "How dare you touch my mate and my child?"

The wedding march began—but my groom, Simon Mercer, was nowhere to be found. At the exact same moment, my mother, Caroline Webb, posted a video in the family group chat. In it, Simon was down on one knee before my cousin Phoebe Carter, holding up a ring and asking her to marry him. Our relatives crowded around them, cheering, while my father, Martin Webb, stood nearby, smiling as he topped up their champagne glasses. I took off my veil and was about to go over there when my mother suddenly called me out in the chat. “Phoebe’s only wish is to have a wedding with Simon. Don’t come here and ruin it for her.” My hands trembling, I called her and asked why everyone else had known except me. She did not sound remotely guilty. “If we’d told you, would you have agreed?” “She’s already lost both her parents, and now she’s this ill. You have us. You have a career. It’s one wedding, Audrey Webb. What difference can it possibly make?” “Be good. Let her have a happy day, and don’t ruin it for everyone.” I gripped my phone and stared at the woman in the mirror, still dressed in her wedding gown. So it wasn’t only my love that had been a lie. My family’s love was a lie too.

I came home clutching the results of my pregnancy test, ready to tell Mom she was going to be a grandmother. Over dinner, Mom suddenly brought up my best friend. "Natalie Foster's getting married next Saturday. Make sure you keep the day free." I froze. "To whom?" "Colin Reed, of course. The three of you grew up together. Didn't she tell you?" Under the table, the test results slowly crumpled in my fist. Colin was the boyfriend I had been secretly dating for five years. He was also the father of the child inside me. Just then, the doorbell rang. Colin walked in holding Natalie's hand. She nestled against him, and the diamond on her ring finger stabbed painfully at my eyes. I looked down and opened my phone. Only last night, he had told me: Colin: Wait for me. I promise I'll marry you. When I looked up again, he was taking off Natalie's scarf with such tenderness that, for a moment, I felt dazed. Only yesterday, that tenderness had belonged to me. Colin, you lied to me.