At our fifth-anniversary dinner, just as I was about to take out a positive pregnancy test, my husband pulled me into his arms and whispered in French, "Elena hasn't been able to conceive in five years. Chloe is so much better; she got pregnant in just three months." Chloe is my step-sister. What he didn't know was that I am completely fluent in French. My step-sister sent a video of her pregnancy to usurp my place? I responded by forwarding irrefutable proof of their fraud and illicit asset transfers straight to the prosecutors! Then, I smashed my phone, reclaimed my true identity as a genius designer, and flew overseas. I heard that later, facing bankruptcy and prison time, my husband discovered that the child my step-sister was carrying was actually another man's bastard. And when, in his absolute despair, he opened the "fifth-anniversary gift" I had left behind, he completely lost his mind. Inside were only two things: a signed set of divorce papers and a positive pregnancy test.

I'm the heir to a business dynasty. For three years, I kept my identity hidden while quietly funding my husband's rise, turning a low-level finance associate into one of Wall Street's hottest rising stars. His pregnant mistress, convinced I was nothing more than a trophy wife living off his success, cornered me while I was out with friends and shoved the check at me, expecting me to cover the bill. My husband even demanded I pay him back ten million—as compensation for the mistress's emotional distress. I nodded calmly. "Fine." Three minutes later, a helicopter thundered overhead as a convoy of armored vehicles sealed off the street. I stopped hiding who I was. I scattered cash at his feet and said coldly, "Take it. Consider it the price of your life." The Wall Street rising star who had been so full of himself only moments earlier suddenly buckled. He dropped to his knees amid the scattered bills and desperately begged for mercy. I tossed my wedding ring into the trash and turned away without a second glance. Begging now? Too late.

I kept my billionaire heiress identity a secret, quietly keeping my boyfriend's startup afloat with my personal black card for five months. His repayment? Backing his scheming new assistant and using doctored receipts to publicly frame me for embezzlement. The ungrateful bastard I'd built with my own money used the chance to seize power: "Hand over your clients and get the hell out." I didn't waste a single breath defending myself. I just threw my keys on the table and walked away. The next day, the fallout began. I cut off my secret funding, and his cash flow collapsed instantly. When he brought his new fling to beg the city's top billionaire for a bailout, I linked arms with the investor—my uncle—and had security toss them out like trash. When he went live online to play the victim and smear my name, I dropped the unedited bank statements—along with the deed to the very office building they worked in—canceling him permanently. Looking at my desperate, bankrupt ex, I smirked. "You wanted to convict me of embezzlement? Fine. Consider your entire company liquidated!"

"I was bleeding out on the delivery table, fighting for my life. But my tycoon husband's personal assistant refused to release the 150,000-dollar surgery deposit. ""The boss is in a meeting. Don't bother him with such a trivial matter."" Because of that missing 150,000, I lost my baby, and my uterus. And that so-called ""meeting""? He was teaching his assistant how to play golf, his hands wrapped around hers. Afterward, my husband showed no remorse. He even threatened to cut off my credit cards—to teach me a lesson. I threw the divorce papers in his face. He thought I couldn't survive without him. But he had no idea who I really was. I was a Wall Street titan, a master of capital. He wouldn't part with 150,000 to save my life. So on the day of the divorce, I'd rally the entire market and watch his empire crumble."

Jason Smith, my partner of four years, and Mia Scott, who I once called my best friend, were indebted to me for four years of rent, a $32,000 student loan, 47 dinners, two fever pills, half a loaf of frozen bread, an unborn baby, and two lives.   When the brutal apocalypse descended, in their greed for two loaves of bread, they murdered my baby and used me as zombie bait, leaving me to die.   Clinging to life, I cut my wrist to lure the zombies, determined to bring those backstabbers down with me.   Reborn 30 days before the world went to hell, I swiped their IDs and took out massive loans in their names. This time around, they would pay for every single debt with their lives!

My name is Evelyn Sutton, twenty-seven years old. I used to be a prodigy designer whose talent outshone all her peers. Five years ago, for my husband Sebastian Locke, I put down my pen, turned down all major international contracts, and hid away my brilliance — willingly becoming a full-time wife. Later, after ten months of pregnancy, I gave birth to our son, Aiden. I poured all my time, energy, youth, and passion into the family and the kid. Today was supposed to be the parent-child activity day at the kindergarten. No one expected that a fire would break out at the school.A beam collapsed in the flames and landed heavily on my calf. In the face of danger, everyone instinctively shielded their loved ones and desperately ran toward the emergency exit. But when the fire came, my husband and my son, not one of them looked back at me.Without exception, they all rushed over to protect my husband's childhood sweetheart: Cassandra Lindon.

My name is Liana Nolan. I'm 22 years old, an ordinary nurse in the Neurosurgery Department at Silverwood General Hospital. Few people know that I have another identity: a neuroscience prodigy and a doctor of neuropharmacology, under the pen name LinN. The global medical community and powerful figures from all over the world are eager to meet LinN. At this very moment, wearing my faded, worn-out nurse's uniform, I'm standing in the corner of the nurses' station, being ordered around by Dulcie Sage — who only started working here three months ago. All because she is my boyfriend's assistant nurse — and also the one he's cheating on me with.

My CEO husband's manic episode hit just as the company's core formula was destroyed. In my past life, I cut my own veins for a blood remedy. Pregnant, I stayed awake three days straight to save his life. Then I miscarried, died, watched him hand all the credit to his little damsel in distress. Reborn, hearing him howling through the wall, I called her right away. "The chance to save the CEO is all yours." Husband's doomed? I'm going to bed. The next day, she showed up clutching a half-baked draft she'd fished out of my trash. He rewarded her by smashing my signature perfume—our love token—and asked me to piss off. I calmly destroyed every last trace of the life-saving formula he depended on and walked out with nothing. What they didn't know was that discarded draft was defective. It'd trigger a lethal toxic crisis. Without me, his only future was despair, insanity, and a very slow death.

Inside the prison, the matriarch slammed fifty million on the table. "Break up my son and his girlfriend Chloe. My family cannot have such a scheming woman as its mistress." I pocketed the card, smiling. "By fair means or foul?" "Yes. Whatever it takes!" I became the matriarch's adopted sister and entered their family. When Chloe staged a fall and framed me for pushing her, I kicked her down the stairs in front of everyone. She hired hitmen to take me out, then I threatened the kidnappers into turning on their own employer. She was vicious, yet I was even more so. Looking down at Chloe's ashen face, I let out a cold, contemptuous laugh. "Play dirty with me? You're not even in my league!"

I lifted the hem of my nightgown and let my trembling hand find its way between my thighs. The moment my fingers brushed the place that had been ignored for months, a wave of suppressed need crashed through me. I closed my eyes. I let myself imagine something hot and hard pushing into me. My fingers moved harder, faster, my breath coming in short, ragged pulls. I was right on the edge—— Then the bathroom door was kicked open.

"You embezzled thirty-five thousand dollars from the firm. Get out." My lawyer boyfriend shoved the termination letter in my face. Right next to him stood the intern I had personally hired. I didn't get angry at their pathetic setup. Instead, I smiled. He had no idea the building his precious law firm sat in belonged to me. He had no idea the billionaire he'd been sucking up to for three years was my mother. And he definitely had no idea that every single client in that contact book he just stole? They worked for my mother. And they all knew exactly who I was. All he knew was that I was the idiot who loved him enough to give him everything. That's fine. Tomorrow, he'd find out the truth.

I once believed that Aaron was my fated mate, a gift from the Moon Goddess. Three years ago, I took a fatal silver bullet for him, leaving a permanent, unhealable scar on my collarbone. But when he woke up, he caught the scent of a white camellia ribbon that my sister had picked up, and he mistook her for his savior. From then on, I became the vicious older sister in his eyes. And she became his redemption. On the night of the full moon, I witnessed him losing control in heat outside the guard room. He clutched my sister's ribbon as if it were his only reason to live. Later, to vent his anger for my sister, he locked me in a water dungeon and tortured me with fifty pure silver poisoned needles until I was nearly dead. In that moment, I finally decided that I didn't want him anymore. I accepted my father's arrangement and agreed to marry the rumored dying Wolf King of the Northern Pack. Before leaving, I left behind two documents. One was a guard termination contract. The other was an application to sever the fated mate bond. One month later, Aaron finally discovered that I was the one who had saved him all along. Dragging his broken body, he knelt outside my Wolf Queen coronation ceremony, begging me to come back. But by then, I was no longer his fated mate. I was the Wolf Queen of the North.

"Serra, don't make a scene." At the Rite of Union, Kyle looked at me coldly. "Other than Elara, I will never love anyone. But if you admit your mistake now, I can still leave you half of the Alpha's mate position." Everyone in the hall thought I would back down. After all, in my past life, I bled for him, hunted for him, brought him resources, and sacrificed everything to raise him to the position of Alpha. But no one knew that when I died in the blizzard on the border, I saw with my own eyes this man, who was supposed to have died in battle, passionately kissing Elara. In this life, I publicly broke off the engagement, bypassed Kyle, and chose his archrival, Zane. That blood-soaked man pulled me into his arms and shielded me against his chest. Later, he caught me when I fell from the platform; he jumped down to save me when I broke my leg and fell into a well. Kyle, for his pure first love, knelt in the blizzard for three days and three nights. And finally, when the truth came to light, he learned— The one who had truly saved him back then was never Elara. It was me. That night, the wind and snow crushed down upon the camp. I lifted the tent flap and saw that man, once so proud and untouchable, still kneeling in the snow, his knees sunk deep into the frozen earth, his body covered in frost. He looked up at me, his eyes rimmed red, his voice hoarse as he trembled: "Serra... could you, just once more, look at me?"

Everyone believed Mark Snyder, the racer with five championship titles, was head over heels for his wife. But I alone knew the truth. He had callously tossed my engagement ring, a symbol of my dedication, into a dumpster overflowing with used condoms. He cruelly joked to his mistress, "Once I've conned her into handing over all her secrets, I'll get rid of her." Little did he know, on the eve of the championship award ceremony, with his ego at an all-time high, I erased every shred of the team's confidential data. I incinerated 1,800 pages of meticulously detailed track notes. Then, with a smirk of icy satisfaction, I broadcasted his infidelity live to the world. I couldn't wait to see how he would manage to win without the brains behind his success.