Julian Taylor had ditched me more times than I could count for his childhood sweetheart. Now, at our own engagement party, a single phone call from her was all it took for him to try and bail on me… again.   For the first time ever, I grabbed his hand and begged, "Can we just stay? Can't we wait until the ceremony is over?"   Outside, the room was packed with our friends and family, all just waiting for us to take the stage. Julian looked sharp in his high-end, pressed suit, looking every bit the handsome groom. But there wasn't a shred of excitement on his face. His brows were knit together, completely consumed by worry for someone else.   Julian impatiently ripped off his tie. "Honey, Shara is sick. I have to go check on her. You know how fragile her health is."   Poor health. It was always her poor health. Shara could jump, dance, and eat just fine, so why was she always "unwell" whenever he needed an excuse? It was a pathetic lie, but Julian was beyond reasoning.   I held onto him, stubborn and desperate, but how do you keep someone who's already halfway out the door?   "Honey, be good. I'll make it up to you later."   He shook my hand off and walked away without looking back. He used the same old line to pacify me, just like he always did. But he didn't realize the truth.   We didn't have a future. I had lost my memory.   At this very party, while trying to chase down the man who was running out on our engagement, I was hit by a speeding car. Now, I remember everyone else in my life.   Only he was forgotten.

A video showing a little girl crying in front of me was maliciously edited and shared in the company group chat. Once people dug up that the child was the daughter of the wealthiest person in the country, everyone assumed I had mistreated her. The new employee I had personally trained was the first to speak out against me. "On the surface, you're a top sales performer, but in private you're actually so cruel... do you pick on girls who don't have a mother? Do yourself a favor and resign from the company right now!" A single question mark formed in my mind. Doesn't the child have a mother? Then who am I?  That same day, the wealthiest man in the nation arrived at the company unexpectedly, put his arm around me, and said, "Let me introduce you... this is my wife." 

I am a former assassin. I laid down my weapons years ago. But to save enough money to buy a house and marry my fiancé, I decided to take on just one final job. That same night, I received an assignment from a client whose codename began with the letter S. Yet the moment I opened the target file, cold sweat soaked right through my shirt. The woman in the photograph was none other than me! I sat frozen before the screen, unable to steady myself for the longest time. Mr. S: Everyone talks you up as some top-tier assassin. What is there to think about... killing one single woman? My hands trembling, I lit a cigarette. The nicotine calmed my nerves just a little. After a long silence, I looked straight at my own face on the screen, and tapped keys slowly on the keyboard. Assassin: Mr. S, how exactly do you want her to die?"

I took a knife for my police boyfriend of ten years. He survived by a hair's breadth and promised to grant me any wish. Everyone thought I'd take the chance to ask for marriage. After all, I'd proposed several times before, and I was just three months pregnant. But no one expected me to break up with him in front of everyone, then turn and walk away without hesitation. Someone told my boyfriend to hurry and chase after me. But he looked at me with disdain. "Who doesn't know she's just a doormat? She's carrying my baby, and now she's just playing hard to get. I'd be a fool to chase after her!" He had no idea I'd been reborn. In my past life, he'd said yes to my proposal. But the young girl he'd saved cried and tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. So my boyfriend locked me up at home like a dog, keeping me chained every single day He broke both my legs, the legs I used to dance with. Even on the day I gave birth, he strangled our baby to death right in front of me, and I died from severe bleeding. Heaven had mercy on me, and now I've been given a second chance. This time, I'll do exactly what he wants...

Ever wonder what it feels like when the juicy gossip you're eating up lands right in your own lap? My boyfriend forgot to turn off his camera, and dozens of crew members on the production team watched him fool around with that rising starlet in the middle of the night. On top of that, they were plotting how to leech off me and use my clout to climb the ladder. Then just a few days later, that same boyfriend proposed to me right there on the show, while that two-faced starlet was right beside him, gushing that I should say yes. They thought they had everyone completely fooled. Newsflash: Every single one of us was just sitting back watching their little clown show unfold. And me? I'm the one running the whole show.

Lia Jordan, the CEO of a publicly traded company, was mindlessly scrolling through street-style snaps when she stumbled across a shot so salacious it made her blood run cold: her husband was cheating on her, clear as day. And the other woman plastered all over him, kissing him like she had no shame? None other than her adopted daughter. To make the whole thing even more absurdly enraging? This was all a plot her ex-husband had strung together, all to bring her career crashing down. "You think you have the balls to mess with me? Nice joke. I'll go off the rails and burn every last thing to the ground!"

On the night I attended the exclusive high-society charity gala, the underprivileged student I sponsor suddenly posted a new update on her Instagram. Mr. Hayes says I'm his little princess who just turned 18. In the photo, the girl I sponsor was wearing the proposal gown my fiancé had personally designed for me, snuggling shyly into Mr. Hayes' arms. His face wasn't visible, but the mole on his Adam's apple was far too distinctive. It was my fiancé, Howard Hayes. I stared blankly at the photo, just about to take a screenshot to confront him. In the next instant, I suddenly noticed the heirloom emerald pendant left to me by my grandmother appearing on the auction stage. I narrowed my eyes, snapped a pic of it, and sent it to Howard. Kara: This is mine, isn't it? Kara: Why did the host introduce the donor as Giana? Kara: Tell me, if I call the police right now, who's gonna end up in jail... you, or Giana?" The moment the message showed it had been successfully sent, Giana's face appeared on the big screen as the donor. Right beside her was Howard, looking completely smitten. Everyone was murmuring, trying to figure out which wealthy San Francisco family Giana was the beloved daughter of. I shot to my feet and marched over to Howard. "Ignoring my messages? Does that mean you're just going to answer my question to my face instead?"

I was rummaging through a dusty, out-of-the-way corner of my house when I stumbled across a wedding photo of my husband and my worst enemy. In the shot, their faces were pressed so close in an affectionate, intimate pose. There was not a single trace of the explosive, on-edge hostility they had always put on whenever they ran into each other in front of me. Turns out, they had been head over heels for each other behind my back for almost a decade. I snapped a quick photo of the wedding picture with my phone, then slipped it right back exactly where I had found it, leaving no trace I had ever been there. I drafted up the divorce agreement, signed my name in crisp, firm ink across the bottom of the page, and stepped out of the home I had shared with him for almost a decade.

I had a dream. In the dream, I was the false heiress, and the true heiress came to the door, and she was reborn. She took my hand, weeping about how my birth family favored sons over daughters, and told me to stay with my adoptive parents. I believed her. Later, I ate the cake she offered and was struck with stomach pain, and performed terribly in the college entrance exam. My adoptive parents gradually grew distant, suspecting I was untrustworthy. When I woke up, I dismissed the absurd dream as nonsense. But the night before the exam, I watched the girl standing at my door, and fell into deep thought.

My best friend suggested testing my boyfriend with a fake social media account. I played along, created a dummy account, and told her it belonged to my boyfriend. The moment she messaged me, she immediately started trash-talking me. She claimed I was seeing who knew how many guys behind his back and said I was nothing but used goods. To top it all off, she flooded the chat with revealing photos of herself: low-cut tops that showed off her cleavage, provocative poses that bared her legs, and even pictures of her sticking her butt out. Then she sent: Claire: Hey, babe, want to hook up? I'm super easygoing. We can do whatever you want~ I replied: Conrad: Nah, I don't buy that. Not unless you... Sure enough, at the company's all-staff meeting the very next day, my so-called bestie suddenly froze, all the color draining from her face. A vibrating toy hidden inside her suddenly kicked into maximum intensity. She began trembling and squirming so violently that she could barely stay on her feet. Before anyone could figure out what was happening, the blare of a 911 ambulance siren echoed from outside the building. Paramedics rushed her straight to the hospital for emergency treatment. She was probably dying of embarrassment long before she even reached the ER.

"The Seven-Year Test" I confessed to James Palmer over and over again, but every single time, he rejected me and deliberately set me up with another man, leaving me humiliated. Heartbroken, I had no idea that after turning me away, he would crawl into bed, stare at my photo on his phone, and smile like a lovestruck fool. Completely unaware of the truth, I foolishly spent seven years chasing after him. Just when I thought things would continue like this forever, I overheard James boasting to his friends outside a private room, and that was when I finally learned the truth. "See? No matter how many times I push Daisy away, she always comes back to love me. "The next time she confesses to me, I'll set her up with the heir to the Capital's most powerful family. After she turns him down, I'll take the opportunity to accept her confession." Only then did I realize that everything had been nothing more than James's test for me. Seven years of wholehearted devotion crumbled into nothing in that instant. I pulled out my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I've decided to go through with the arranged marriage to the heir of the capital's most powerful family."

What kind of wild, too-good-to-be-true vibe do you get from dating seven total weirdos all at once? None of them have a clue the others exist! Every single one of them thinks I'm just a replacement for their perfect, unattainable dream girl. I couldn't care less. As long as they pay me well enough, every last one of them is my favorite hubby. Then the day came when all seven popped up in the same spot at the exact same time. And just like that, my whole scheme crashed and burned. I was so utterly busted.

I hid my real identity and worked as a talent at an entertainment company owned by my family's conglomerate. My agent made up fake dirt on me out of thin air, just to help the general manager's mistress climb the career ladder by stepping all over me. I was absolutely livid. I clapped back at that two-faced manipulative bitch right on X, then dragged the company publicly during a press conference. The general manager was so furious he ripped up my contract right then and there. I announced I was quitting the entertainment industry for good. Right after that, the official account of a certain huge conglomerate posted an emotional, practically teary mention of me, begging me to come home and inherit the family's billions in assets. Everyone's jaws hit the floor immediately. One sharp-tongued netizen dropped this razor-sharp take online. A: [Wait a second, so the only heir to the Wallace Group got fired by the entertainment company that falls under the Wallace Group umbrella?]

The party that cost me my child happened because David Williams forgot to pick our child up. His carelessness is what got them hit by a car. By the time I sprinted into the hospital, the doctor had already shaken his head sadly and announced, regretful, that they couldn't save them. I stroked my child's icy cold little body, numb and reeling, swallowed whole by soul-crushing despair. When I fumbled to unlock my phone, the first thing I saw was a new post from David's sister on WeChat Moments. Her caption read: My big brother is decorating the party for Sister Anne himself! This is so sweet I could scream! It all clicked. David had been busy planning a birthday party for that unobtainable first love he's pined after for years this whole time. I deliberately tapped the like button, the little click of my screen sharp in the quiet of the hospital hallway. Not even five minutes later, David's call popped up on my screen.   "Everyone kept pushing me to show up. I couldn't turn them down, okay?" he said, sounding defensive. "You forgot to pick up Alexa," I said. Panic spiked in his voice right away. He started rambling, saying he'd send a car to pick them up right that second. The words hung in the air for a beat before I spoke. My voice was cool and even, "Enjoy your party. We don't need you anymore."

At the parent-child class, I received a note from my son titled: True Words for Mom. Mom, can you please stop clinging to Dad? If you hadn't saved Dad, he never would have married you. Dad has two World Go (board game) championship titles, but you only have one national championship. You had me just to trap Dad. Only bad people do stuff like that. All my classmates say my mom is the prettiest person in the world, but I think Aunt Shara is the prettiest. Please get a divorce from Dad so Aunt Shara can be my mom. Thank you. I stared at the words, my throat going tight before I even realized I was holding my breath.

I'm a nobody actress, barely making a name for myself at the very bottom of the entertainment industry. ​ Yet the man who supports me is Mr. Zachary Kane, someone who holds absolute power and controls nearly everything in Northridge, the city where influence and wealth rule. ​ In my past life, I acted out and caused trouble at every turn. Even though I knew I was nothing more than a temporary stand-in, I foolishly tried to push aside the woman he truly cared for and take her place. ​ I even went so far as to fake a pregnancy and storm the Kane family estate, demanding an official title and position. That was the moment he lost all patience with me. He cast me aside completely, and without his protection, I was left defenseless. ​ In the end, my enemies in the industry hunted me down, and I was left to sink into the freezing waters of the open ocean. ​ But now I've woken up again, given a second chance at life, returning to the exact day I tried to pressure Zachary into marrying me. ​ It was also the very moment his disdain for me first took root. ​ "Mr. Kane… when are we going to get marry—" ​ Zachary's brows drew sharply together. He turned his head to look at me. ​ "Get what?" ​ "End… end it!" I blurted down with an awkward laugh, then quickly corrected myself. "I mean... when are we going to end whatever this is between us?"

After we were married, my husband lied and told me he was impotent. But later, I uncovered a secret he had hidden for years! ​ It turned out that even before our wedding, he had been having an affair with my younger sister-in-law. Our marriage had been nothing more than a cover-up for that secret. ​ He had remained "faithful" only to her, keeping his distance from me completely and never touching me throughout our two-year marriage. ​ I had no intention of being the fool tricked into a sham marriage. So after carefully laying out every detail, I took my husband's younger brother with me to catch them in the act.

My boyfriend gives me 500,000 dollars a month for living expenses! From then on, I stuck strictly to the code of the ideal girlfriend: 1. I never check his phone. 2. I never ask where he's going. 3. I never, ever get jealous. 4. I just peacefully live my best life as a wealthy girlfriend. After we had been together for half a year, he asked me to hand him his phone.  Right then, the screen suddenly lit up, and a new message popped up. Jasmine: I've already given birth to the baby. I shook with fear, totally wanting to pretend I hadn't seen a thing, but it was too late. I tried my best to act cool, stammering, "Um... um... should I go help take care of your child?"

I found out for sure Pete was cheating on me, hiding another woman behind my back, three days after I pushed him to lock in our wedding date. He insisted on going out for one final supposedly single guy's night out, but his real plan was to get blackout drunk and say enough harsh stuff to make me cut and run from the engagement on my own. "Seven years together doesn't mean I have to marry her. Is a woman gonna drop dead if she doesn't get married?" He slurred, too drunk to even hold his head up straight. "Besides, if I marry Nicola, what's Jesy gonna do? She's only twenty-one. She can't survive without me..." I didn't scream, I didn't cry, didn't make a single scene. I called off the engagement just like he wanted. But then he showed up at my new apartment in the dead of night, pounding on the door so hard the wood thudded. "Nic, I can't sleep without you." "Is my girl some kind of sleeping pill now?" A younger man, still riding that post-intimacy high and not ready to be interrupted, stepped between me and the door like a feral guard dog protecting his most prized possession, voice sharp and protective. "Babe? This is your ex, right? Dude looks ancient. You two are so not a match." I leaned into his arms and chuckled. "You're so right. What do I want with some washed-up old guy when a sweet younger guy like you is way more fun?"

For my birthday, my husband, Jeremy Bright, got me a pair of shoes that didn't fit at all. I stared down at the too-big shoes on the coffee table and sat in silence for a long beat before I finally told him I wanted a divorce. He stared at me, completely confused. "Seriously? You're making a big deal out of this tiny thing?" I glared at him, getting angrier at his audacity to be in disbelief. "Giving me size 40 shoes that don't fit is a tiny thing, right?" I scoffed. "Forgetting our wedding anniversary is another tiny thing, I guess. Oh, and how about losing our wedding rings? Maybe that's obviously nothing worth caring about either. And when I was in surgery, you were out on a date with a girl you knew from college? That's just the smallest, most insignificant thing of all, isn't it?" I shoved the shoes hard back into his hands, the stiff sole digging sharply into his palm. "Tell me. In your book, what actually counts as a big deal? I want a divorce. Clear your schedule this week so we can go to the civil affairs bureau and file for divorce." Jeremy rubbed the space between his eyebrows and sighed. "C'mon, baby, don't be ridiculous." Over the last few years, we'd fought so much and threatened divorce so many times we'd lost count. He figured this time was no different from all the rest, all bark and no bite. That changed when I set the divorce agreement down in front of him.

Many people admired her. Even after she lost the ability to speak, Stellan Blackwood, handsome and wealthy, still seemed to love only her.  But the truth was this... Stellan, who had always treated her with such gentleness and affection, had been unfaithful.  He crossed paths with a young intern named Annika Sutherland, who had a voice remarkably similar to the one she used to have. How bitterly ironic it was. She had given up her own voice to save his life, yet here he was, searching for that same voice in someone else. Her spirit completely broken, she made up her mind to leave the moment she learned the intern was expecting Stellan's child.  She swiped her boarding pass and boarded a flight bound for Switzerland. Yet Stellan was consumed by regret. He fell to his knees before her, begging desperately not to end their marriage.

When Mr. Caelan Alderidge's first love burst through the door, I was softly telling a bedtime story to their autistic daughter. The woman's gaze swept between the two of us, and she strode over to us. Just as I thought she was about to pick up her daughter, she suddenly raised her hand and slapped me across the face. "You bitch! I've only been gone a few years, and you took advantage of my absence to worm your way into his life, sleep with my husband, and steal my daughter. "You think looking a little like me makes you fit to be my stand-in? To take everything that's mine!" I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, totally floored. Who's the stand-in? Me? Aren't I the occupational therapist Mr. Alderidge hired to take care of his autistic daughter?

I'm a nobody in the entertainment industry... just a small-time, barely known figure. During an interview, the host asked me, "If you ever leave the business, what do you plan to do next?" I answered without a moment's thought, "Go home and take over a multi-billion-dollar fortune." The live chat comments went wild, everyone was calling me shameless and saying I’d say anything just to grab attention. That single line even shot straight to the top spot on the trending list! But when I finally stepped away from performing, I truly became one of the most powerful figures in the industry... someone who could shape decisions and control outcomes behind the scenes.

The woman my husband once loved, who vanished ten years ago, has returned. With tears streaming down her face, she threw herself into my husband's arms, and he comforted her gently, his voice soft with concern.  She turned her gaze toward me, putting on an air of pity as she spoke. "Now that I'm back, are you going to divorce her and make her move out?"  She assumed I was only a substitute he had found, someone who had taken the life that should have been hers. What she did not know was that every bit of comfort and prosperity we enjoyed today was something I had built and brought into this home. Hearing her words, my husband pulled away sharply, his expression turning guarded. My in-laws' faces darkened with disapproval. I stepped forward and slapped my husband across the face. "Get this mess sorted out before you dare speak to me again."

For our sixth dating anniversary, Darren brought Gretta, the girl who had been pursuing him for three years, straight to our candlelight dinner. He tried to play it off. "Don't be like that. She's going to be like a little sister to us from now on." This was the same girl who once called me terrible names just because I wouldn't step aside and let him go. Now she stood there, acting all soft and sweet, calling me "sis" like we were old friends. It made my stomach turn. I felt sick to my core, and I couldn't bring myself to eat a single bite. That night, Darren said he would drive her home, and he never came back at all. I couldn't sleep, so I ended up scrolling through a social media account I knew well: Gretta Chases Her Love Bravely. There was a brand-new post up. First win the "little sister" title, next level up to being his baby! The step-back-to-move-forward trick works perfectly! I stayed out until the dorms locked up, just batted my eyes and played sweet, and he agreed to get a hotel room for the night. He is so easy to wrap around my finger! And I actually got to kiss him while he was sleeping! Attached to the post was a photo: Darren, who always swore he couldn't sleep properly anywhere but in his own bed, was fast asleep on a hotel pillow. Bright lipstick marks were smudged clearly across one side of his face. The comments below were full of people cheering her on and wishing them luck. All at once, every bit of the fight and feeling just drained right out of me. The next morning, I called my academic advisor and accepted the fully-funded study abroad placement I had been offered.

When I found out I had been a replacement for his ex the whole ten years, I didn't cry or question anything. I just quietly had an abortion, picked up my suitcase, and boarded a late-night flight out of Boston.

Samuel Dean's younger lab mate "accidentally" sent him a private photo. The man who had always claimed to despise foolishness immediately came to her defense. "It was just sent to the wrong person," he said. "She's not as calculating as you are." In that instant, I knew our seven-year relationship was finally over.

When I stumbled across my boyfriend's secret account, he'd just posted a new question. Any recommendations for romantic cities for couples to visit? On a whim, I replied anonymously, recommending an old riverside town I'd always dreamed of visiting but had never gotten the chance to see. Ten minutes later, he replied to my comment. 47587: [Thanks, but my girl and I already went there for Valentine's Day this year. She didn't like it.]

When I was six years old, my parents welcomed my baby brother into the world.  From where I was crouched in the corner, I watched someone quietly swap him for another newborn. Without telling anyone, I switched the babies back again. Eighteen years later, a scruffy young man in shabby, worn-out clothes burst into my parents' house, tears streaming down his face. "Mom! Dad! You have been raising the wrong son all these years. I am your real son."

Because I scored higher than Solenne Marlow on the state civil service exam, on my first day reporting to Northwood University, her childhood friend Riven Thayer set his sights on me. He even started a secret betting pool on the campus forum. The question: How long will it take to get my virginity? Whoever guesses the closest time wins a hundred thousand dollars. Some say I'm a reserved, high-achieving student who would take at least three years to wear down. Others claim I just look cold on the outside, but am actually burning with desire underneath. They're betting on just three months. The thread keeps blowing up, and the prize pot keeps getting bigger. Standing unseen in the shadows, I watch it all in silence, then curl my lips into a faint smirk. 'Three years? Three months? All of that is way too long. I only need three weeks.'

I'm a total simp for my older sister, Erica Lancaster, and I don't think too hard about things. I heard my sister was secretly pining for someone she could never have. So, summoning every ounce of courage I had, I kidnapped the gloomy, vicious crown prince of the business world and tied him to my sister's bed. When my sister found out, she practically shrieked.  "Since when did I ever like that King of Hell?! Get your butt out of there before it's too late!" I glanced at Shaun Philipps, who was lying across the bed, restrained by a dog leash. My legs immediately turned to jelly. "Erica... it's too late. My knees have gone weak... He looks absolutely terrifying. He says he's going to swallow me whole, not even leave my bones behind."

In our past life, my best friend and I were inseparable. We married into wealthy families side by side, and got divorced around the same time too. But after our splits, we had no savings and no marketable skills, so we lived paycheck to paycheck, completely dead broke. In the end, we both died in our run-down rental apartment after a gas leak. Talk about a bitter pill to swallow. Meanwhile, our ex-husbands were living the high life. One went on to marry his sweet childhood sweetheart. The other climbed straight to the very top of his career. When we opened our eyes reborn, my best friend and I were lying side by side in the lavish spa room of our family mansion, blinking at each other in total shock. "I'm not getting divorced this time. What about you?" Rip! I tore the divorce papers straight into tiny pieces, so eager to be rid of them I felt like I could swallow every last scrap. "Divorce? Hell no! Only a fool would walk away now!" After all the garbage we went through last time around, we finally got it. Being a wealthy family's wife? That's nothing but easy living.

A few days after I gave Andre Carlson my first time, my brother hit me up out of the blue and asked me to come out for dinner. My eyes burned as I stared at Andre. Not even that long ago, he'd been breathing right in my ear, swearing he'd take care of me for the rest of our lives. But right then, he was sitting there, cheeks flushed bright red, peeling shrimp for another girl. My brother had no clue what was going on. He grinned and asked, "Jealous? Finally, in the mood to start dating?" I bit back the tears stinging in my eyes and nodded with a bright, forced smile. "Yeah, bro. The family's been nagging me nonstop about this really great guy they want to set me up with, right? "I'm ready to meet him." The bowl Andre was holding clatters to the floor with a sharp clink all of a sudden.

I'd pulled overtime all the way to midnight, and while I waited for my documents to print, I mindlessly scrolled through short-form videos. In one clip, a girl clutching a bright, wrapped bouquet was waiting at the airport exit. The second she spotted who she'd been waiting for, she launched herself straight into his arms. He laughed and swept her up in a tight, full embrace. The caption on the video read: My rock is finally home. I froze, blood turning to ice in my veins. That man in the video? He'd told me good night just one hour earlier. I dialed Harold's number, my voice ice-calm as I asked, "Where are you?"  Thumping bar music blared so loud at his end it almost drowned out his voice, and he sounded totally unbothered, like he had nothing to hide. "Just grabbing dinner with my riding buddies. You're so far away, you know? They're the only ones around to keep me company right now."  Before I could get a word in, a bright, pealing laugh cut through the line from his end. "Harold, it's your turn to drink! Quit dragging your feet."  It was the exact same voice as the girl in the video. I ended the call. I sat there, dead still, for half an hour, before I picked my phone back up to dial a different number. "I'm turning down the California branch posting. I'm coming back home, and I'll agree to the arranged marriage."

Sean doted on me to the moon and back for the five years we were together. Everyone in our social circle was green with envy over my dumb luck. Yet for all his devotion, the one thing I ached for most, those four little words, "Will you marry me?" never crossed his lips, no matter how long I waited. Then, finally, the day I'd been daydreaming about for years arrived. That was the same day Sean's adopted little sister hit and killed someone with her car. Right then and there, Sean dropped to one knee and slipped a cool metal ring onto my finger. "Susan, will you go to prison for Jenny, please? I promise you, as soon as you get out, I'll marry you, I swear."

I was the real missing heiress to the wealthy Harrison family.  The day my biological father tracked me down and brought me home, the fake daughter who'd taken my place all these years dropped to her knees in full view of the whole household, begging me not to kick her out of the house. Sure. She can stay. We both get to be here. As long as I'm breathing, I'm a member of the Harrison family. So that only leaves her to be a family ghost even when she's dead.

Our marital home had been left vacant for three years when I suddenly received an electricity bill for a hundred dollars. I sent a screenshot of the bill to my husband. He replied almost instantly. Vincent: That's strange. It's probably the old wiring leaking electricity. I'll ask the building management to check it tomorrow.  I smiled and texted back. Jane: Okay. Then I immediately called the building management, sounding panicked. I told them I suspected there was a serious gas leak in the apartment and asked them to shut off the water, electricity, and gas immediately, then notify the fire department. After hanging up, I drove to our marital home and leisurely parked downstairs. From inside my car, I watched my husband come rushing out of the building before he even had time to change out of his pajama pants, carrying a heavily pregnant woman in his arms.

I had been married to Elliot Shaw for seven years, and he still hadn't forgotten his first love. When the car accident happened, Elliot climbed out from behind the wheel and rushed first to Claire Morgan in the back seat. He forgot about me who was trapped in the passenger seat with worse injuries. That was when my heart finally died. I signed the divorce papers he handed me. Everyone assumed I couldn't survive without Elliot. Even Elliot. So when he watched me step into someone else's car, he was there in an instant, one hand braced against the door, his face a mask of frozen fury.

After my boyfriend cheated on me, I slept with his brother. Everyone calls his friend "Little Wolf Dog." In the private hot spring, I sat on his lap in just my robe. Little Wolf Dog stared at me intently with beautiful, smoldering almond eyes, like he wanted to devour me whole, yet the way his hands caressed me was surprisingly gentle and unrushed. Holding back my discomfort, I urged, "Hurry up." I wasn't here to flirt with him. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, let out a soft chuckle, then took my earlobe between his lips and licked it slowly. "Mandy, someone's in a rush, huh?"

As the nib of the pen finished signing the last page of the divorce agreement, Cameron McBride was on the phone, murmuring sweet nothings to his new lover. Autumn Clayton held out the documents without a flicker of emotion. She watched him snap a photo to send to the other woman like he was showing off a prize he had won, and listened as the soft, gentle words that had once been reserved only for her now belonged to someone else. Just as everyone waited to see this unloved Mrs. McBride fall from grace, the heir to the Laurent family pulled Autumn gently into his arms and soothed: "Hush, don't waste your thoughts on trash."