My husband rented an apartment for his mistress, but the smart lock got linked to my phone number by mistake. By the time I got the 47th late-night entry alert, he was texting me to say he had to pull another all-nighter at work. I didn't call him out. The next day, I moved across town and started using his money to spoil a hot college student. My younger boyfriend went shopping with me, carried my bags, helped me level up in games, and somehow managed to put a full homemade spread on the table every single day. Then one afternoon, he had an arm wrapped around my waist while we walked through the mall, his face buried against my neck as he shamelessly begged me for a reward. We were still laughing when a dark, icy voice came from behind us. "Stella Ross? What the hell are you doing?" I turned my head.  There stood my husband, the man who was supposedly "working all night," staring at my boyfriend's hand around my waist with a face like thunder.

The day I put on the engagement ring from the prince of the capital's elite circle, the man who had supported me for 10 years, Ethan Grant, lost his mind. I was 10 when the Grant family, the city's wealthiest, took me in. On my first day in that house, I knew I had to please their son, Ethan. But the first time he saw me, he sneered, "Straight out of the slums. You reek of poverty." The servants laughed at me. I never ate at the table again. Once, I secretly tried on a body-hugging skirt, wavy hair, and stilettos. He threw it all away in front of everyone. "So tacky. Who are you trying to seduce?" After that, my closet had nothing but faded, plain school uniforms. I walked on eggshells trying to please him. But he gave my guaranteed university admission spot to his first love. He even had his bodyguards smash my cello. I hid in the storage room and cried all night. He said calmly, "After I marry Vivian, you can stay and be my mistress." But I would rather starve on the streets than be anyone's mistress. So while he was abroad on vacation with his first love, I accepted a proposal from his biggest rival. A month later, Ethan came back. When he saw the diamond ring on my finger, the ever-arrogant Ethan Grant's eyes turned red.

The day my daughter's heart condition flared up, Grant Whitmore was busy whispering sweet nothings to his secretary.   My hands shook as I called him.   "Grant! Lucy's having another episode. Please come and see her!"   But Monica Shaw answered his phone.   "Mrs. Whitmore, please stop making things up about your child," she said mockingly.   My daughter had always been frail and often fell ill. After listening to Monica for long enough, Grant had come to believe I was using Lucy to get his sympathy.   Lucy opened her eyes and stared blankly out the window.   "Is Daddy not coming this time either?"   My heart twisted. My voice was hoarse as I said, "Lucy really is sick. I'm not lying."   Grant took the phone. "Enough. What kind of mother uses her own child to play the victim?"   Then I heard Monica's coy voice in the background.   "Grant, the baby's kicking."   A second later, the line went dead.   I gripped the phone until my fingers went white.   So that was why he treated Lucy this way. He had another child on the way.   Lucy buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed quietly. I lifted her off the hospital bed and soothed her.   "Sweetheart, we don't need Daddy anymore."   There was something Grant didn't know.   He'd been born with poor sperm motility, and the condition had worsened over time.   His test results came back last week. He now had azoospermia. He had no viable sperm at all.

I was the most feared lawyer in Riverton, a prodigy at the top of my game. The day my husband and daughter were kidnapped by a rival I'd beaten in court, I'd just won the biggest case of my career. A promotion was within reach. When I arrived, the kidnappers set the gasoline alight. My husband and little girl were engulfed in flames. There weren't even ashes left to bury. My mother-in-law slapped me, sobbing, demanding that I bring back her son and granddaughter. "This is your fault! You're ruthless. You've made enemies of everyone! You should have died instead!" My own mother threw me out. She called me vicious and said I was no daughter of hers. My firm fired me and blacklisted me. For years, the guilt consumed me. Scars covered my arms. I spent hours by the lake, clutching my daughter's doll and crying. After my 10th suicide attempt, my best friend refused to watch me give up. She introduced me to a man and his little girl, hoping they could fill the void. He was gentle and thoughtful. His daughter was sweet and loving. Slowly, they helped me heal. I let them in. I married him. Finally, I had a family again. Three months after the wedding, the husband and daughter I'd mourned for three years knocked on my door.

Monica's POV:   On Halloween, when I was 5 months pregnant, I suddenly got a call from my husband in the future.   The moment I heard he was calling from 10 years ahead, I eagerly asked, "Did we have a boy or a girl? Is my mother doing any better?"   Before I could ask anything else, he spoke.   "I cheated on you with your best friend. We sent our child to an orphanage because the trauma left the kid with brain damage. Your mother died. As for you, you had a breakdown after the divorce and spent the rest of your life in a psychiatric hospital. You died of depression."   I froze, cold sweat breaking out across my back.   Then I heard laughter behind me.   My husband, Derek Vaughn, was smiling at me. "Happy Halloween, honey. You didn't actually believe that, did you? I was just trying to scare you."   My best friend, Sabrina Mercer, came over and snuggled against me.   "Exactly, Monica. Look how pale you are! You didn't really believe it, did you?"   Neither of them seemed at all unusual, and I let out a quiet breath.   Before I could answer, comments suddenly appeared in front of me.   A: [He pretty much predicted the future. Her whole family really does end up that miserable. It just hasn't happened yet. Right now, he's only cheating with her best friend.]   B: [Poor female lead. She's only got a month of peace left. Once the other woman gets pregnant, she'll upset the heroine's mom so badly that her mom dies. That's when things really go downhill.]   I gripped the sheet, my face draining of what little color it had left.   As soon as they left, I called a lawyer.   "I want a divorce. As quickly as possible."

In the 6 years we were engaged, Luca Moretti made me countless promises. Whenever it was time to keep one, he put Sophia Conti first.   When he became head of the Moretti family, he gave her the first dance at the celebration. When she asked to borrow the sapphire necklace he'd commissioned for our wedding for just a night, he fastened it around her neck himself.   The day the estate caught fire, he carried her across the courtyard. He didn't remember I was still in the upstairs bathroom until a firefighter asked if anyone else was on the second floor.   After I left the hospital, I set my blackened engagement ring in front of him. He held my hand and promised that nothing meant for me would ever be given to anyone else again.   But a week before our wedding, he brought Sophia into the banquet hall that had been decorated for me. She said the rival family wouldn't dare force her to honor the marriage agreement her father had left behind if she became the Don's wife.   "We only have to pretend for 3 days. Once the threat is gone, you can give Erin her place back."   Luca didn't refuse her immediately. He looked at me as though he were waiting for my permission to take an inconvenient dish off the menu.   I took off the name badge identifying me as the bride and handed it to the ceremony coordinator.   "Change it."   This time, I gave her the groom too.

For 3 seconds, the office elevator plummeted when its systems suddenly failed. My CEO husband, Jeremy Cole, acted on pure instinct. He yanked his intern secretary into his arms. To protect her, he deliberately shoved me with brutal force straight into the ice-cold metal handrail, putting my pregnant body between her and the impact. I clutched my searing lower abdomen and screamed as thick, warm blood steadily ran down my thighs. Jeremy merely patted the secretary's back. Then he whipped around and snarled at me, "Don't touch her! She has claustrophobia. You're fine, so shut up for now." The moment the elevator stopped plummeting and the security guards forced the doors open, he stepped right over me as I lay on the floor clutching my stomach. He kept the secretary pressed tightly against his chest and sprinted straight for the infirmary. The coat he'd thrown off in his frantic dash landed beside me. A crumpled sheet of paper slipped from its pocket. It was the secretary's 16-week ultrasound report. My hands shook badly, then I took a photo of the bloodstained report and sent it straight to the company's executive work group chat. Then I texted the headhunter from our rival firm, whom I'd ignored for 2 whole weeks. Natalie Shaw: I'll take the job offer. I'll be there next Monday.

The final dose was meant to save my sight... my husband pushed it into another woman's eyes, right in front of me. Through the treatment room glass, I saw Kyrin Hollis hold Lienne Calder's chin and slowly push the plunger until the syringe was completely empty. That gene therapy, worth millions, the one I waited three years for... still had my name on the label, unpeeled. Evania Hollis. It was mine. I banged hard on the glass. Kyrin saw me, but he did not stop. He did not step out until the very last drop had gone into Lienne's eyes. "Why did you give my medicine to her?" I asked. He frowned. "Lienne's condition got worse all of a sudden. She could not wait another twenty-four hours."  "What about me?" "You still have at least seven days. The next batch arrives in three days." "And if it does not come on time?" He sounded impatient. "Evania, it is already done. Do you really have to make a fuss right now?" The door opened. Lienne came out with a bandage over her eyes and said softly, "I knew you would not agree. I never should have taken it." It was already inside her. Only now did she say that. Kyrin went to her side right away. "Do not get upset," he said gently. Her eyes glistened. "Maybe once I am stable, I will give my place to Evania." "That is nonsense," Kyrin said firmly. "It is already used. How can you give back something that is gone?" Then he turned to me. "Go home first. Lienne needs six hours of observation." I looked him straight in the eye. "Kyrin, did you forget? Today, I was supposed to be the one lying in that bed." He stayed quiet for a long time. At last, he said only one thing. "You can wait longer than she can." 

We took delivery of my brand-new car and decided to take a short trip nearby. My husband, Cole Sorell, insisted on bringing along a new intern, Cindy Fenrose, saying he'd give the young woman from our hometown a ride since we were heading the same way.  When we reached the rest area to switch drivers, the three of us walked up to the car. Without even asking me for the keys, Cindy smoothly lined her face up with the B-pillar. There was a soft beep, the door unlocked right away, and the memory seat slid back automatically into the custom position fitted just for her height. Cole held the door open for her like it was the most natural thing in the world. "She borrowed the car to practice driving last night," he said. "I didn't want to mess around with passing keys back and forth, so I added her face to the system. It's our family car anyway." Cindy settled into the driver's seat and smiled up at me, all innocent. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "I spent ages getting this seat just right last night. Cole said, as long as I'm comfortable, that's all that matters."  I looked at the car, the one I'd paid for in full myself, and gave a quiet, dry laugh. "Our family car?"  I pulled up the main account app on my phone and quickly cleared every single access permission I'd granted. The moment the system confirmation tone sounded, I reached in, pulled the door open, and hauled her right out of the seat. Cole stepped forward to defend her, but I pushed him back too, right out onto the pavement, then slammed the door shut hard behind us. "If you like riding in it so much," I said, "you two can just stay right here at this rest stop." 

Before the wedding began, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Genevieve Ashcroft, suddenly barged into my dressing room. "Sabine, you really don't know how to budget, do you? More than 10,000 dollars just for bridal hair and makeup? Are they putting gold leaf on your face?" She grinned. "I found an entire hair and makeup team online for 9.90 dollars. They're perfect for you." The moment she finished speaking, three girls in slippers squeezed through the door carrying grimy makeup cases. I refused immediately. "My skin is extremely sensitive. I can't use cheap cosmetics." Lucien Thorne glanced at me, his tone cutting. "Quit being dramatic. If you don't look good to begin with, expensive makeup won't save you either." My heart went cold, and my throat tightened. "We're running out of time. Hurry up and do the bride's makeup," Genevieve ordered. I had barely started to protest when the three women surrounded me. A second later, cheap foundation was smeared across my face like wall putty. Within 5 minutes, angry red welts spread from my cheekbones to my jaw. I stared at my swollen, blotchy reflection. The anger and humiliation inside me finally boiled over. My voice trembled. "Lucien, look at my face. How am I supposed to get married like this?" Genevieve's eyes instantly reddened. She threw herself into Lucien's arms. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have meddled... Sabine, hit me, yell at me. I won't fight back..." Lucien wrapped an arm around her shoulders and spoke coolly. "So you've got a rash. Put on two more layers of foundation. What's the big deal? Genevieve was only trying to save us money. Do you really have to make such a scene and refuse to let it go?" A bone-deep chill swept through me. Someone called from outside the door. "The ceremony is about to start. Is the bride ready?" I took off my veil. My voice was calm and final. "Cancel the wedding. I'm not marrying him."

I had spent an entire year pouring my heart into planning my wedding with Eason Chambers. Yet, with just ten minutes left before the ceremony was set to begin, I was handed the final program. Under the bride's name, it read: Samantha Gates. She was a student Eason had been financially supporting for a decade. Before I could even process what I was looking at, the massive screens around the venue flashed to life, showcasing slide after slide of Eason and Samantha. The final photo was taken just last night. In it, Samantha was draped in my wedding dress, leaning softly against Eason's chest while he gently adjusted her veil. He looked down at her with such tender devotion that anyone would have mistaken them for the real bride and groom. Eason walked over, took my hand in his, and let out a quiet sigh. "Samantha was just diagnosed with a terminal illness. She won't make it past this year, and all she wants is to know what it feels like to be a bride. She's suffered enough. You and I have decades ahead of us, so please don't begrudge her a couple of hours." I looked at the man I had loved and waited for over the past seven years, suddenly hit by a wave of pure absurdity. "So today, you're marrying her?" He stayed silent. Samantha walked up, clutching my bouquet, a tearful smile playing on her lips. "Alice, I'm only borrowing Eason for today. He'll be all yours after this." As if fearing I might make a scene, Eason frowned and cut in, "Don't cause trouble. Let her have her moment first. As soon as it's over, we'll hold our ceremony as planned." So after an entire year of painstaking preparation, my wedding was nothing more than a temporary backdrop he could lend out to fulfill someone else's dream!

The day before I, Josephine Carter, was supposed to go wedding dress shopping with my fiancé, Ethan Shaw, his first love, Nadia Pierce, posted a video online asking for help. "I'm terminally ill. My last wish is to ride on the back of my first love's motorcycle one more time." The entire internet rallied to find the "motorcycle boy" from her past. When it turned out to be Ethan, I told him clearly that I wasn't okay with it. He blocked the video right in front of me. "Relax. I gave up riding years ago. All I want now is to marry you." But on the day of our dress fitting, Ethan was nowhere to be found. My best friend, Hailey Brooks, rushed over to help me pick out dresses, then held out her phone with trembling hands, showing me a locally trending post. In the video, Ethan was speeding across a coastal bridge with Nadia on the back of his bike. The caption read: "The regret I left behind at 17. At 27, I'd risk everything to make it right." Tens of thousands of comments flooded in, all calling him a "true love hero." But nobody knew that this "true love hero" had just stood up his own fiancée. Late that night, Ethan walked through the door looking windswept and worn, carrying my favorite iced coffee. He smiled and pulled me close. "I just took a kid out for a little ride. You're not really going to be jealous of a sick girl, are you? Don't be mad. We still have a wedding to get to tomorrow." I smiled back. "I'm not mad." Because half an hour ago, I had already canceled the wedding we spent a year planning.

Everyone in Kingsport knew that Elijah adored me beyond reason. For my birthday, he had drones trace my name across the night sky. To win me back after an argument, he bought a nine-figure ruby on the spot. Everyone said I was the most dazzling woman in Kingsport. On our tenth wedding anniversary, Elijah gave me a gift. I wore my brightest lipstick and his favorite red dress, and opened the velvet box with full anticipation. Inside lay a divorce decree. "Freya," he said, smoking without even looking up, "it's time for you to step aside." After ten years of playing the stand-in, the real one was finally coming back. "Give me $3,000,000, and I'll move out tonight." He frowned, probably not expecting me to be so decisive. "There's no rush. I'll have the driver take you to your new place tomorrow." Thinking of the zeros in my bank account, I raised my champagne glass with a smile. "Sure. Let's celebrate our divorce, then." After all, I had always been the gold-digger who sold herself to Elijah, the one who knew exactly how to milk his guilt for every penny.

As the youngest daughter of a Mafia family, I had always known that one of my two childhood friends would someday become my husband. Both of them were proud and aloof and had little interest in a marriage alliance, but I never gave up.   Everything changed the day my adopted sister, Ava Collins, and I were kidnapped by one of our family's enemies. The kidnappers suspended us above the docks and forced my two childhood friends to choose between us. They handed over every cent of the ransom, then pointed at Ava without a moment's hesitation.   "We choose her!"   The dock explosion left my face horribly disfigured. When I was finally rescued, I saw the two of them on their knees in front of Ava, crying as they comforted her.   "Don't be afraid. We'll protect you."   "No matter which one of us your sister marries, the other one will marry you. We'll make sure you're happy."   "You're the most important person to us."   When I woke up in the hospital, my mother placed the marriage contract in front of me. I didn't write either of their names on it. Instead, I booked a ticket out of the country.   I didn't want a love I had to keep chasing.

My sister and I are rare twin werewolves born into our clan. We came into this world only three minutes apart, yet we couldn't be more different in every way.   I'm the clan's youngest and most formidable leader. My sister, Freya Frostbourne, is frail and delicate, unable even to catch a single rabbit. Because of this, our mother, Lenora Frostbourne, always claimed I stole all her nourishment while we were still in the womb, so from that day on, I let her have everything.   I placed first in the annual clan great hunt, and Mother handed every single one of my prizes straight to my sister. "She needs this to build up her strength," she said. "You owe her this."   When it came time to receive our spirit weapons, I was left with the very last and most inferior one my sister didn't want.   I went to our father, Evander Frostbourne, to speak of it, and he told me, "You've got everything you could ever need. Don't pick fights with your sister over stupid little things."   Later, I stood surrounded by enemies, relying on the promise of our bond with the Alpha. But beneath the full moon, he betrayed me. "Your sister needs my protection far more than you do," he told me.   I stood there, biting back the pain, watching him walk away to her. And in that moment, the very last of my patience shattered completely.   If staying in this home means I must give up everything, then why shouldn't I take it all for myself?

My honeymoon trip with Julian Hayes—I never went. His female best friend did. I saw it on her social media. Julian had used a business trip as an excuse to turn down our honeymoon, yet there he was, fingers intertwined with hers, looking at her with unmistakable tenderness. Caption: Honeymooning with you. I guess this counts as marrying you, right?   Location: Silverpine.  This was supposed to be my honeymoon trip with Julian. A trip I had dreamed about for years, eagerly waiting for the day I could finally travel with him. But every time I brought it up, he would say he was busy, tired, had no time, or that we could go "next time." And just like that, three years went by. Turns out, when someone really wants to go, they don't need three years to make it happen. I stared at the photo for a long time before reposting it with a comment: Married man and his mistress? If you want my husband that badly, I'll gladly give him to you.

I was interning at a women's health hospital.  That day, I had just stepped through the hospital doors when Andre Montrose, my supervising doctor, hit me with a sudden announcement.  "Yolanda D'Averne, we've got a patient who came in this morning with her water broken way before her due date. I'm about to perform an induction for her, so come with me to observe and learn!"   I moved to follow right behind him by pure instinct. Then, out of nowhere, a line of bright, livestream-style on-screen comments popped up right in front of my face.  A: [He's about to ask Yolanda to join him in this surgery, and make her administer the oxytocin to the pregnant woman.]   I jolted to a stop mid-step, and sure enough, I heard Andre give a cold, deadpan order. "Once we get into the operating room, you'll start by giving her the oxytocin as I instruct. For the rest of the surgery, I'll walk you through doing it on your own."   The on-screen comments blew up, zipping by so fast they turned into a blur.  B: [Don't be a dumbass, do NOT go into that OR with him.]  C: [Her preterm labor didn't just happen, he dosed her with too much oxytocin last night. The fetus is already dead, and the mother just died on the operating table too.]  D: [If you go in there with him, he's gonna pin both of those deaths on you.]   My feet slammed to a halt right at the delivery room entrance. I stared at Andre, his face dark with a cold, unreadable scowl, and took a deliberate step backward.  "Hospital policy says high-risk induction procedures need to be evaluated and monitored by two senior doctors. "Sorry, but I'm only an intern. I need to go get the on-duty head physician, Irene, downstairs to join us." I kept my voice steady, already edging toward the stairwell.