Lucian Grey and I had been married three years and nobody knew it. I was in the delivery room screaming, having his child. He was at home taking care of the woman he'd never gotten over. A nurse called him. He couldn't have sounded less interested. "Women have babies every day. She's making a thing out of it." Then the woman came to my house looking for a fight, and I went into labor early and started bleeding. A full day and night in that room, and I lost the baby anyway. Afterward he came to me with his eyes red, asking me to give him one more chance.

I had been betrothed to Tristan Brooks, the head of the Dragonkin, since childhood. But one day, someone sent me a video of him kissing another girl at a bar. I rushed over, only to hear him complaining to his friends, "I'm so sick of her. Her face just turns me off!" Without a word, I turned around and broke off our engagement. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum, until I posted my marriage covenant with Julian Hayes of the Kitsune. Tristan knelt outside my door in the pouring rain, begging me to look at him just one more time. But Julian's nine tails wrapped tightly around me. "Clara, ignore him. Let's continue."

I married Arthur Smith through an arranged blind date, but he already had a first love. They fooled around, flaunted their affair, and crossed every line. His first love kept provoking me to my face, yet he turned a blind eye. His mother, always playing the aloof peacemaker, told me to keep my dignity and let him have his way. His father, the picture of maturity and wisdom, praised my quiet obedience while telling me to swallow my pride. I always just laughed it off, even helping him pamper that woman. Later, they ended their lives in a tragic suicide pact, leaving me with an absolute empire of wealth. I smiled and said, "I was never interested in petty romance."

To the rest of the world, Jonah Miller was just the son of my adoptive father, the one I had left behind with. What they didn't see? Every time I stepped out of line, my "brother" calmly cooked a full meal, then unbuckled his belt, ordered me to my knees, and made me watch him eat.

I had a wonderful fiancé. The day we were set to get our marriage license, he got into an accident. I clutched his urn and cried until I blacked out. When I woke up, he stood over me, looking down. "Hey, you're in my spot." I rubbed my eyes and rushed to him, throwing my arms around him. "Honey, you're finally back!" He held out a hand and pressed it against my forehead. "Whoa, lady—you don't have to go to such lengths just to claim a spot under a bridge, do you?" Wait—did I travel back to my fiancé's rebellious teenage years?

My secret crush was throwing his birthday party.   I handed him a box of those male enhancement pills right in front of everyone, grinning like I meant it.   "You're kinda slacking in the stamina department, huh? Here—these'll get you back in the game!"   Later, he shoved me into a corner and kissed me breathless, like he had a point to prove.   When we finally broke apart, he let out this low chuckle and asked, "You ain't even taken me for a test drive yet, and you're already calling me a dud?"

During college, I spent four years simping for Dustin Hayes. On graduation day, he said to me, "Let's get married." I cried tears of joy and hugged him tightly, thinking my devotion had finally won him over. Only later did I find out that all he wanted was a piece of game code I had developed. He and his first love stripped me of my managerial power and kicked me out of the company. But he forgot one thing: if I could build one empire, I could easily create another.

Jackson Grant is my childhood sweetheart and my husband in a marriage of convenience. In our third year of marriage, he brought home a bubbly, cute girl. "Stella, if you had even a fraction of her charm, I wouldn't be so tired of you." I smiled faintly, calmly tossed away my wedding ring, threw down a divorce agreement, and walked out. He brushed it off, telling his friends, "She'll be begging for my forgiveness in less than three days." But a month passed, and I never looked back. Panic and anxiety set in as he searched everywhere for me. Until one day, he saw me at his cousin Ryan Shaw's wedding. He smirked, "Stella, I knew you still cared about me." He tried to pull me away, only for Ryan to block him. Ryan raised an eyebrow and pulled me into his arms. "Show some respect, younger cousin. You should address her properly as Mrs. Shaw."

At the party, someone slipped my boyfriend, Austin, a roofie. I urged him to go to the hospital for a checkup. He shoved me away, his eyes burning with desire. "No, Sarah, I need a release. Holding it in is bad for my health. Don't you understand?" Just then, a younger girl from our department volunteered to "sacrifice" herself to help him. So, I watched them head to a hotel. When we met again, Austin, who was now my ex-boyfriend, sneered at me. But the moment he saw the underclassman beside me, his expression turned dark. "Who is he?" he demanded. I smiled, "My cure."

My bestie was desperate to become an influencer. She insisted on going to Aspen to live-stream in a bikini during a blizzard, forcing me to be her photographer.  We ended up trapped on the mountain peak. To save herself, she stripped me of my clothes, leaving me to die of hypothermia while she wore my heavy down coat and survived until the search and rescue team arrived.  When I opened my eyes, I found myself back before the blizzard. In this life, I would stand by and watch my influencer-obsessed bestie reap what she sowed.

I stood by my boyfriend's side as he went from an unknown rookie to one of the biggest names in professional racing. Then the paparazzi dug up our relationship, and we started trending online. During a livestream, one of his fans asked if I was his girlfriend. He only smiled. "She's not my girlfriend," he said lightly. "Don't get the wrong idea." So I dropped my anonymous account and sent the internet into another frenzy. When old photos of us together resurfaced, I simply smiled. "I had terrible taste back then," I said. "Thankfully, I got over it." Later, he came begging for another chance. I turned to the veteran driver standing beside me. "What should we do about him?" The man let out a cold laugh. "Easy. We get rid of him. Then you can be with me."

My best friend was one of those girls who would burn her whole life down for a man, and I was where she went every single time he made her cry. The guy had a whole bench of girls warming up. I lost count of how many times I told her to leave him. Never took. This time was like all the other times. I showed up at their place. Except this time her boyfriend put a knife in me until I stopped moving. And my best friend helped him cut me up, boil me down, and drop what was left down a storm drain. Then I woke up. And there she was, crying to me about him cheating again. So I smiled and said, "Look, I know he's got options. But you're the one he keeps coming back to." You two deserve each other. Just keep me out of it.

My deskmate used to be the smartest kid in school. By sixteen, he'd already racked up wins at national physics and math competitions, more awards than anyone could count. Then a transfer student showed up in our class, and everything changed. He let her kiss him. He let her sit right on top of his books like they were nothing. He threw it all away for her. Turned down Oxvard. So I told his mother. He got shipped overseas to finish school. By the time he came back, he had it all: money, success, people practically tripping over themselves for his attention. Years later, I was grinding through blind date after blind date. He looked over my profile along with the rest. Didn't even glance up. Just said, "You'll do. Deskmate." Our wedding night, a screen flickered on in front of everyone and started playing footage of me with a string of different men. After that, the marriage turned into a nightmare. He hurt me, over and over, until there was nothing left of me. I didn't make it past year three. "Figure this makes us even, for you running to my mom back then," he said, looking down at me like I was nothing. Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Before any of it had happened.

When Brandon Vinson called, I was lying in Nicholas Shaw's arms. I was completely lost in his kisses, totally drowning in the thrill of someone new. To be honest, I never planned on cheating on Brandon. I mean, we've been married for seven years, and our kid isn't exactly a toddler anymore. But he was the one who screwed up first, completely breaking our marriage. I just wanted to level the playing field. Just this once. He didn't bother with hello. "Where the hell are you?" I kept my voice down and I stayed calm. "Brandon. You've done this how many times now? This is my first. I'd call us square."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband was spending the night with his lover over a candlelit dinner. I happened to run into them. He glanced at me with a sneer and asked, "Why are you here? Have you started stalking me now?" He really thought too highly of himself. I had not come for him. He had his young lover. Of course I'd have fun with any man I wanted.

I had been stuck with Mr. Reid Stone for eight years. He always claimed he didn't do feelings and had no idea what love even meant. But after I kicked it, he kissed my headstone and whispered, "Jude, I think I fell in love with you.'

Marcus Sterling and Vivian Sterling had shared five years of what appeared to be a flawless marriage. Their deep love was the envy of everyone in Caoport City. People admired their picture-perfect union, yet they were completely unaware of the darkness lurking beneath the surface. Months earlier, at a high-society party, Marcus, heavily intoxicated and disoriented, had forced himself on a young server working the event. Consumed by raging jealousy and a twisted sense of possession, Vivian ordered her men to abduct the girl and lock her away in a hidden basement chamber. She subjected the young woman to endless, cruel torment until the victim's mind finally shattered. Instead of resenting Vivian for her madness, Marcus broke down in tears, deeply moved by the extreme lengths she was willing to go for him. The couple reconciled instantly and fell back into their familiar, affectionate routine as if nothing terrible had ever happened. The broken server was soon forgotten by everyone in their world. Unbeknownst to everyone, the girl had a younger sister. At the time, she had been just one thousand dollars short of paying her little sister's tuition fees.

A car accident shatters everything, leaving Lucas Vance sterile for life. Crushed by the guilt of my indirect role in his ruin, I stay faithfully by his side—seven years in total. I believe our engagement will finally bring this long atonement to an end. Yet on that grand, crowded day, he abandons me without a second glance. All it takes is another woman's casual wish to watch the snow. Overnight, I become everyone's joke. His friends snicker at how easily Lucas tosses aside a famed movie star, and he only smiles faintly, dismissing me with one cold, degrading label: whore. He has always seen me as a greedy social climber, convinced I cling to him only for fame and status. What he never tells me is this: the devastating accident, the one I've tormented myself over for seven years, is nothing but a scheme he arranged himself. Since I am guilty in his eyes either way, I refuse to remain a pitiful spectacle any longer. Before every guest and flashing camera at our engagement party, I cross the line. I wrap my arms around Orion Reeves—Lucas' greatest rival—and kiss him boldly in full view of the crowd. Then fate turns. Lucas is struck by a terminal illness. In his final days, he begs for one last meeting with me.

I followed a thirst-trap influencer and witnessed his entire journey from a nobody to a viral star with millions of fans. He never showed his face, yet I was utterly infatuated with him. Every day, I would leave shameless, flirty comments under his videos, fantasizing about spending a wild night together. The only disappointment was the single line written in his profile bio. It read: I only post these videos for the person I secretly love. What I never expected was that... the person he had loved was me.

My boyfriend, Rodgers Buckley, dedicated a sweeping, romantic love song to me at his massive concert, performing before a stadium packed with tens of thousands of cheering fans. Yet, as the final notes faded, he turned around and presented his childhood friend with a dazzling diamond ring. Later, when explaining himself in a group chat with his closest friends, he cautioned them, "Keep your mouths shut around Kylie. I don't want any rumors. Katrina and I are just ordinary friends." In response, I took a pair of shears to my wedding dress and publicly posted the shredded gown on social media, adding a caption that dryly wished them a lifetime of happiness. Much later, during a high-profile press interview, Rodgers completely broke down. In front of a swarm of reporters, he practically begged for my forgiveness like a stray dog scraping at the door. "Katrina," he whimpered, "I finally realized that you are the only true love of my life." I merely flashed my sparkling new engagement ring and smiled. "I am terribly sorry, but I am far too busy planning my wedding to waste a single second on you."

Everyone in our circle knew Rowan Shaw didn't love me. I was only ever a stand-in for the one that got away. Even knowing that, I couldn't make myself file for divorce. Then the real Shaw heir came home. I handed Rowan the divorce papers without blinking. Everyone in our circle decided I was playing hard to get. Rowan swore up and down that he had me figured out. "She's playing hard to get. Give it a few days and she'll come crawling back. She can't function without me." But that night, I had Lucian Shaw's mouth on mine and no intention of stopping.

Weston Sinclair woke up from the crash remembering no one in his life but me. I swore it to him like a vow. "I'll be right here. Always." He kept one hand pressed to the bandages wrapped around his head and tapped the tip of my nose with the other, grinning like I was the only good thing left in the world. "Vivienne Hale, I'm going to love you for the rest of my life." I believed we were in love, both of us, and that we would claw through anything the world put in front of us and still end up together. Then I turned around and found him cradling a photograph, his eyes rimmed red. "Sera, I did everything I promised you I would. God, I miss you." The face in that photograph belonged to my twin sister, Seraphina Hale.

Everyone in their circle knew I was with Charles Gibson just to fill the spot left by his ex-girlfriend. I stayed with Charles without any real claim to him. Outsiders all said I loved him too weakly, that I'd lost all self-respect along the way. Charles looked at me and smiled as he spoke to his friend. "She's only a replacement." I heard the words and felt nothing. I kept putting on the act of being deeply in love with him. I waited until he got into a car accident, then told him I wanted to break up. He begged and clung to me, yet I stayed completely unmoved. Because you were just a replacement, too, Charles.

Everyone knew I had been around Victoria the longest. The men in her life came and went, and she was even getting engaged the next month. Everyone expected me to cause a scene and claw my way into first place. I didn't. I quietly took the check Victoria handed me and used that money to become a player in my own right. What nobody knew was that on the night Victoria announced her engagement, I fell down a flight of stairs by accident. I was fine. But the part of me that loved Victoria slipped into a deep sleep.

I married Damian Calloway when he was flat broke. After we tied the knot, I put all the betrothal money and my dowry toward funding his startup. Later, his business venture took off. I became Mrs. Calloway, the woman everyone was jealous of. The day I got back from my prenatal checkup, I found a pretty diamond stud earring on the sofa. Damian's expression was gentle. "I meant to surprise you, but you found it early." I smiled and didn't reply. But my hand, without thinking, brushed against my own bare, unpierced earlobes.

My childhood friend married me just to spite his first love. But in the second year of our marriage, his first love came back. They rekindled their old flame. They were caught hugging on set and kissing in the recording studio. At night, the paparazzi even caught them walking into a hotel hand in hand. Everyone said I was hopelessly in love with him, that I could even tolerate my husband's infidelity. Little did they know, the very next day after seeing trending topics, I sent him the divorce papers. The one refusing to sign them was him. Later, he wept with regret, claiming he had fallen in love with me long ago. But I only said calmly, "But I don't love you anymore." 

At Chase Davis's birthday party, he took out a one-carat diamond ring and slipped it onto Lucy Shaw's ring finger. Lucy stared at the ring, overwhelmed by the surprise. "Chase, are you really going to divorce her and marry me?" Chase arched a brow. "I'm single." In the three years we had been married, Chase had never once admitted I was his wife. Because I had gotten his sister killed. If I hadn't stubbornly clung to Chase and stopped him from leaving, maybe his sister could have been saved. So when it came to his sister's death, I was an accomplice. I had always thought he hated me to the bone. Until...

Sienna Blake, a girl from my boyfriend's program, shoved me off the lecture hall roof. I ended up with a severe spinal injury. The doctors said I might never walk again. She walked away with a few scratches. From my hospital bed, I heard her on the phone, all soft and pitiful. "Caleb, it hurts so bad. I'm all alone here at the hospital, and I'm so scared." And between me and her, he chose to go take care of Sienna. I didn't cry. I didn't fight. I just erased every trace of us from my life. But he didn't know... I was leaving him for good.

Everyone in our circle knew it. Dax Harrington was ruthless and arrogant outside, looking down on everyone. But with me? Soft as a puppy. Did whatever I said. Couldn't function without me. Only I knew the truth. He kept a little bird on the side—some girl tucked away in a gilded cage. He said she reminded him of me.

I woke up on the day I was supposed to marry Jay Sullivan. The officiant was reading the vows, all dramatic and heartfelt. "Sophie Mitchell, do you take this man as your husband? Love him, care for him, respect him, and stick by him—whether you're sick or healthy, broke or rolling in it. Forsaking all others, keep it real and loyal till your last breath." "I don't." Hell, I didn't just not wanna marry him. I also made sure my groom-to-be got himself a free ride to the slammer.

At the university's live-streamed debate finals, the math department's famously cold, untouchable prince went completely off the rails. Shouting, sweating, going full throttle. All to win the argument that "she really does love me." The whole campus was losing it, trying to figure out who the hell had broken through that ice-cold facade and pushed him to this point. The next day, the account I'd blocked sent me another friend request. With a pathetic little note attached: Ivy, I know you don't do second chances. But how about a first one with me?

The usually quiet social media feeds finally exploded today after a breaking report alleged that Swanfort's ultimate billionaire heir has a new flame. A top-tier actress had posted a photo, and in the reflection of the mirror, you could see a man's hand with lean, distinct knuckles. On his index finger was a striking ring—a black diamond shaped like a red heart. Just two days ago, someone had leaked a screenshot of the billionaire heir's private social media feed, and he was wearing that exact same ring! The actress's fandom instantly threw a massive celebration online. Meanwhile, I squinted closely at the hand in the photo. Is it a new trend for celebrities to pull romantic PR stunts with married men these days?

Scott Griffith used to call me his lucky charm. Back when he had absolutely nothing, I was the one who stayed. I stood by his side in the trenches and helped him rebuild his empire from the ashes. But then, I overheard what he actually said about me behind closed doors. "Daisy's got an ordinary face, sure, but she's brilliant at what she does. Best of all? She's fiercely loyal. Like a dog." So, I did the only logical thing: I walked away. But the moment I checked out, he refused to let me go. He begged, he pleaded, completely obsessed with dragging me back into his life. I just looked him in the eye and asked, "Scott, if you're so desperate to tie yourself to a dog, what exactly does that make you?"

Evan grabbed me by the throat and told me I wasn't allowed to cry. Because when I cried, I stopped looking like Lillian. But he didn't know. Not one of my tears was ever for him.

Everyone knew I was a fool for love. Everyone knew I obeyed Zane without question. When Zane told me to watch him get intimate with his lover right in front of me, I watched. When he threw a $1 million check at me and told me to get out, I got out. Until later, when he asked me to come back. I smiled.

After the accident, I woke up in the hospital. The doctor said there was a good chance I'd lose my memory. Looking at my girlfriend sitting beside my bed, I got the urge to mess with her. So I put on a confused look. "Hey, gorgeous. Who are you?" The woman looked into my eyes. A few seconds of silence, and then she said, flat and calm. "Coworker. Same department."

In the dark, rain-soaked alley, Cain grabbed me by the throat and crushed his mouth onto mine. I fought him, struggling, hitting at him, until my head went light from the lack of air. Only then did Cain let go, his face dark with rage. "Didn't I make it clear? From now on you're my girlfriend. You don't talk to another guy. Ever." I shook my head hard. "I'm not your girlfriend. I don't like you." Cain stared at me, his chest heaving. Then he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. "Isabella, you should be grateful I picked you. Don't act like you're too good for me." My cheek burned, and the cold rain running over it only made the sting worse. Cain forced my chin up so I had to look at him. The fear in my eyes was plain, and it kept climbing. I was already dead once. So why was Cain still haunting me like something that wouldn't stay buried?

After I got back into town, my best friend tricked me into going to a masquerade. And who do I run into but the ex I'd dumped six years ago. The party wasn't even over yet before Randy had my hand in his, pulling me into one of the rooms. He pinned me to the bed and looked dead into my eyes. "Catherine," he said, his voice rough. "I've waited six years for you." "Sorry." I held his gaze. "I've got a boyfriend." And this guy, without an ounce of shame, just grinned at me. "I don't mind being the side piece."

On the day my fiancé got engaged to someone else, I crashed his engagement party with our daughter. I told my daughter. "Go on, sweetie. Call him Daddy." The microphone on the stage amplified my voice, sending a wave of shocked whispers through the guests below. I let go of my daughter's hand and walked out the door, ignoring the eruption of gossip behind me. "Grace, have you lost your mind?!" Arthur Miller shouted after me. Behind me, my daughter sobbed, calling out for me. I didn't want to leave her. But I was dying.

It was our fifth anniversary. Austin had kept it from me and planned a surprise proposal with his friends. On a bustling street, he got down on one knee and held up a sparkling diamond ring. "Summer, marry me." I was moved, extending my right hand and waiting for him to slip the ring onto my ring finger. But just then, Austin's phone rang. He gave me an awkward smile and answered it. I could not hear what the person on the other end was saying, but Austin's expression turned tense. Without saying a word, he stood up, hailed a taxi by the roadside, and disappeared before I could even react.

After years of dating, my boyfriend suddenly married another woman. I showed up at his wedding in my own wedding dress, but he said he could give me anything—except his hand in marriage. I went back in time to the night before my planned confession and burned the year-long stash of love letters I'd written for him. Edward Smith, this time I want nothing to do with you. But instead of discarding me like he did in my past life, he started chasing after me. Little did he know that falling for him again would cost too much—I could no longer afford to give my heart away.

I went all out for Jay Lynch at the nightclub, dropping cash like crazy. He smiled and said to me, "Sweetheart, I'm no good guy. Don't fall for me." Really? What a coincidence—neither am I!

I saved a man who was about to jump off a bridge. He said a toxic ex-girlfriend had destroyed his will to live. I took him home, comforted him, looked after him, and gave him food and shelter. Later, he said to me, "Sarah Clark, you saved my life, and I have nothing to offer in return, except to be your boyfriend." At that moment, his face was pure and youthful. He looked at me with hopeful eyes, his ears flushed red, and he nervously clenched his sleeves. I had to admit, my heart skipped a beat. But I still turned him down. "I'm just a street cleaner. I don't have any savings." He replied, "As long as I'm with you, I'll be happy even if times are tough. Besides, I can earn money with my own two hands." He didn't have a college degree. To make more money, he worked overtime every single night. What had I ever done to deserve meeting such a sincere young man right before my own end? I made a silent vow to take on several more jobs, to save up as much as I could for him, so that he could live a happy life after I was gone. But later, I spotted him at a bar. He was hiring female escorts and dropping tens of thousands of dollars in one night without even flinching. With his arm around one of the hostesses, he boasted to a rich young heir beside him, "She's the one for tonight. Let's see just how good her moves are."

Back then, I saved Gary Grant from his bullies. I sponsored him all the way through college, and after graduation, he came to work for the Sterling Group. I never thought the guy had developed Stockholm syndrome and ended up falling in love with his bully, even blaming me for tearing them apart. To get back at me, he conspired with our rival company and drove the Sterling Group into bankruptcy. My father jumped off a roof, my mother died of depression, and my family fell apart. Meanwhile, he held his new girlfriend in his arms, taunting my incompetence. Later, I died in a car accident and woke up back on the day when he was being bullied. This time, I walked past without a glance. But he came up to me with red-rimmed eyes, tearfully asking why I wouldn’t help him anymore.

In the fourth year with Harrison, he was going to get married. I obediently pulled out my suitcase and moved out that same night. Because I knew the eldest daughter-in-law of the Harrisons of Skyview Heights was not a role a small-time influencer like me could fill. Later, for money, I started doing sensual dance streams. Mid-stream, Harrison stormed in and smashed my phone. He said, "Sarah, you're asking for death!" I looked at the ring on his finger and laughed. "Harrison, who are you to me? What right do you have to control me?"

I had a dream. In the dream, I was the lead in some trashy erotic novel. The secret lover of a movie star. During the day, he played the part perfectly, the untouchable heartthrob gliding through public events. Then at night, as his assistant, I would go into his room and let him do whatever he wanted with my body. I really thought it was just our thing, some private kink between two people who were almost a couple. I never imagined that one night, right when he was sweating on top of me, a single call from his first love would make him walk out. He didn't care that I was still tied to the bed, completely helpless. I woke up with ice down my spine. Because that dream was my reality. Every single detail.

My husband's first love had returned, and the two of them were all over each other. I became the laughingstock of the entire social circle. When I brought up divorce, my husband, Lucian Thorne, blamed me for it. "Just stay home and behave yourself. Don't forget your place." Everyone thought I was poor. What they didn't know was that I was actually a billionaire's daughter. However, after the divorce, Lucian came crying and begging me to take him back.