After my fiancé Leo's older twin brother, Evan, went through a breakup, Leo ordered him a bionic sex doll. Meanwhile, I was completely in the dark about all this. On the day of my third anniversary with Leo, I secretly prepared some lingerie, took an aphrodisiac, and lay in bed, planning to surprise him. But it was Evan who came back early! He mistook me for the bionic doll. He caressed me as he spread my legs, and said, thrilled, "No way. Did Leo know I've been dying to sleep with his girlfriend? And he actually got me an identical pleasure doll?"

The corporate building was under attack, and when I scrambled out of the malfunctioning elevator, a sharp sheet of metal sliced straight through my chest. Warm blood gushed out in thick, steady streams, and I was desperate for immediate medical care. But my husband, Lucian Thorne, had pulled the entire onsite medical team away just because his secretary, Victoria Bennett, had caught a cold. I pressed one hand tight against my bleeding wound, grabbed a fistful of Lucian's suit jacket with the other, and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Get the doctors back here to treat me now! If anything happens to me, my family will tear you apart!" He just let out a dismissive little chuckle. We'd been married for seven years, and he'd always thought I was an orphan. I'd never bothered to correct him. The truth was, my family were rogue werewolves exiled from our pack. My mother, Aurora Cross, had slaughtered nine seasoned hunters in a single fight. My father, Kael Cross, had once shifted into his wolf form and scared several humans to death on the spot. And my older brother Gabriel Cross? He was a raving maniac who lost all sense the second he caught a whiff of blood. "Alright, I get you're upset. There's no need to make up crazy stories to mess with me," Lucian said, yanking his suit out of my grip. "Seven years we've been married, and I've never once looked down on you for having no family. Even if you hate Victoria that much, this is not the time to throw a tantrum. "If your family was really that powerful, you wouldn't be here fighting Victoria over a few doctors, would you?" Lucian brushed the wrinkles out of his suit and ordered every last member of the medical team to leave with him. I watched the hem of his jacket slip right through my fingers, and crushing despair squeezed my chest so tight I almost suffocated. I used every last bit of strength I had left to call my father, then sent him my exact location. The second the line clicked to life, I knew it without a shadow of a doubt. Lucian was going to pay for his stupid, callous mistake with a brutal, messy death.

I had not left this room since I was 12. My aunt, Penelope Cortez, told me that the fire destroyed my lungs and that my very survival was nothing short of a miracle. For eight long years, I lived like a fragile creature made of glass, tethered to daily nebulizer treatments, pills, and IV drips. My aunt quit her job just to take care of me, and I had always believed that I was nothing but a burden to her. But one day, the nebulizer broke down. I went the entire day without my treatment. When evening arrived, a strange realization washed over me. I could breathe with remarkable ease, far better than on any day I had actually used the machine. Driven by an unsettling impulse, I pulled out the medicine bottles I was forced to swallow every single day and examined them closely for the very first time. That was when I noticed a slip of paper hidden on the underside of the pill box. I peeled it back, but the writing was in a language I didn't recognize. Still, a word stood out, stark and chilling: Prohibited. A cold tremor shook me to my core. After all, the person who had been feeding me those pills every single day was my aunt, the woman who had pulled me from the flames and dedicated eight years of her life to keeping me alive.

"The baby is gone!"   While I was hemorrhaging in the hospital, my husband, the head of a mafia family, was having dinner at an upscale restaurant with his first love.   When the call finally went through, she was the one who answered.   "Don't scare him."   Then the line went dead, and his phone stayed off all night.   For three years of marriage, I played dumb. I played the dutiful wife. I pretended I was good for nothing.   He thought I was nothing more than an office worker's daughter.   He thought I had married far above my station by becoming his wife.   He thought I couldn't live without him.   But there was one thing he didn't know.   I slipped off my wedding ring and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.   He didn't know this either.   My name was Serena Blackwell, the sole heir to one of Asteria's most powerful underworld dynasties.   They thought I had lost?   No.   The game had only just begun.   The day after the divorce papers were signed, the entire mafia family was brought to their knees.

I was dragged on TikTok by my own employee. The video turned me into the "corporate villain" the internet loves to hate. She said I preached work-life balance, but in reality, I was sending work messages late at night to keep everyone on call around the clock. Within 24 hours, the backlash exploded. I became the greedy boss everyone wanted to cancel. But here's what the online mob didn't know: I never expected my employees to reply instantly. I never tracked their attendance. I allowed remote work. I approved last-minute time off without asking questions. When one employee's mother needed surgery, I told her to work from home full-time so she could take care of her family. But when my own employees started using my flexibility as proof that I was exploiting them, I lost the will to defend myself. The next morning, I shut it all down. No remote work. No flexible hours. Mandatory clock-ins for everyone. Formal approvals for every request. Clear accountability for every person. Within a week, they were begging me to bring back the boss who used to "exploit" them.

I found out I was pregnant on the very day I threw my daughter her 10th birthday party. The moment we stepped into the venue, my daughter, Mia, pointed at the stunning A-list Hollywood she-wolf performing on stage. "I know her." I glanced over but didn't say anything. Then Mia pointed at the wolf pup sitting beside the she-wolf, playing the piano. "My brother Jason got taller again." I couldn't help but laugh softly. My alpha husband, Lawson, had spent hundreds of millions to invite this famous mother-and-son duo to perform the opening act for Mia's birthday party. Where had she even gotten that idea? "Are you bored, sweetie?" I gently patted her head. "How about this? When Mommy has your little brother, you can choose his name, okay?" Mia didn't seem to hear me. She suddenly turned around and slapped my hand away. Her little face twisted into a cold, angry scowl. "That's my real little brother. Look at the bracelet he's wearing. Daddy gave him one too. Daddy said we each get one." She pointed straight at the wolf pup on stage. "I'm going to protect my little brother from now on." I followed her gaze. The moment I saw the bracelet, a chill ran down my spine. He really was wearing the exact same bracelet as Mia. The charm hanging from it was the wolf-head emblem exclusive to our werewolf pack. Before I could process what I was seeing, Mia looked down at my belly. "Daddy and I don't want Jason to stay away from us anymore. So he should have your baby's place instead. You'll give it to him, won't you?"

My fiancé had been building his own business for three years, and we'd been living the whole time frugally. He said, "When I succeed, I'll definitely give you the most glamorous wedding. If we make our relationship public now, I'm afraid you'll be looked down on because of me." I believed him. I felt sorry for his so-called "pride," so I ate fast-food burgers with him for three years and went two years without buying a single new piece of clothing. Then his mother, Audrey, fell ill and was hospitalized. When I went to pay the hospital bill, something about his bank statement didn't add up. Every month, there was a large fixed payment from his card, with the memo reading "Claire Carlson's living expenses." I traced the name on the recipient account and found the social media profile of a girl named Claire. It was all photos of her showing off designer bags, dining at fancy steakhouses, and vacationing on tropical islands. It turned out it wasn't that he didn't have enough money to spend. He just didn't have enough to spend on me. His so-called grind was just bleeding me dry to bankroll another girl's glamorous lifestyle.

I'd just finished attending yet another gala as Ethan Shaw's plus one when the newly appointed general manager, Serena, walked into my office.   She stopped right in front of my desk, her long, pointed nails tapping against the surface in sharp, rhythmic clicks.   "Some cheap, low-class omega actually thinks she's worthy of being Mr. Shaw's personal assistant?   "You make a million a year just to run errands for him and show up at business dinners, and you even have the nerve to accept the gowns and jewelry he gives you?   "Guess what? You're fired."   I tightened my grip around the paper coffee cup in my hand until the sides crumpled with a soft crackle. Then I slowly looked up at her.   "Does Mr. Shaw know you're doing this?"   That single question sent Serena into a rage.   She swept her hand across my desk, sending everything on it flying. The coffee in my cup spilled all over my skirt, leaving a large, ugly stain.   "Why would I need to tell Mr. Shaw? You think I don't have the authority to fire you?!"   "Go finish your exit paperwork right now and get out. Don't make me repeat myself."   I could feel everyone's eyes on me.   My coworkers watched from their desks, their faces filled with barely hidden excitement and satisfaction.   I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling slightly.   Everyone in the office thought I was about to break down crying and beg Serena to take back the termination notice.   But I was using every ounce of self-control I had to suppress the excitement surging through me.   I could finally leave.   No one knew I'd been waiting for this day for a long, long time.

At the racecourse, my fiancé Kane Gray's assistant, Julie Carter, had swiped my card to gamble on the horses. She had even mocked me relentlessly, saying I was nothing but a poor girl trying to climb the social ladder.   I had canceled the card on the spot, leaving her with no way to pay for her bets. Not only had she almost ended up being thrown to the wolves over the debt, but she had also been forced to sign a loan agreement with outrageous interest.   When Kane returned home, he only kissed my cheek. "Why are you getting worked up over an Omega? Look how frightened she is. She's been crying nonstop."   He hadn't blamed me. Instead, he arranged an engagement ceremony that stunned the entire world. The proposal was streamed live globally that night, and every werewolf was convinced I was the future Luna.   But when the time came to settle the bill, Kane vanished without a trace.   The vendors responsible for the ceremony rushed in one after another and tossed a black card onto the table in front of me.   "Nora, your card's frozen!"

Two days before the Lunar Ritual was set to take place, a sharp ping cut through the quiet. Alpha Elliott Dark's cousin had dropped a message in the family group chat. Liam Hale: Ivy Silver, the invitations go to print tomorrow. You haven't noticed the name on them isn't yours, have you? My finger froze mid-tap as I stared at the text. Right on its heels, a message from Elliott's second-in-command popped up. Ethan Grant: I bet the Alpha you'd never notice this. He swapped your name out for Selena Rose's. Ethan: Come on, Ivy, you're way too slow on the uptake! Go hound the Alpha to fix this fast, or how's your ritual even gonna happen? I set my phone down, a sharp, twisting cramp seizing my stomach. I'd always known Selena and Elliott had a history. But Elliott had stood in front of both our families, sliced his palm open, and sworn a solemn oath before the full moon to take me as his mate. And now, while I'd been busy planning every last detail of this ritual, they were using my dignity as the butt of their stupid little joke. New messages kept pinging in the group, like I wasn't even in the chat. "Damn, Alpha, you really went all in on this. I bet when Ivy finds out she'll be gritting her teeth fighting back tears." "Nah, she won't even dare yell at him, let's be real. Loser of the bet covers all the mead for the next family dinner!" My screen pinged again, this time with a post from Selena, a photo of her decked out in a wedding dress. "Shoutout to the stubborn softie who pulled every string he had to help me borrow this dream dress. Finally got to check this off my bucket list!" Right under the photo was Elliott's comment, dripping with that soft, smitten affection only he ever showed her. I swiped my thumb across the screen and hit the like button. Right after that, I sent the Council of Elders an official application to dissolve my mate bond with Elliott and booked a ticket to Gryphonstone. If they're so sickeningly perfect together, they can have the damn ceremony for all I care.

My husband, Ryan Hall, had erectile dysfunction. Our relationship as a married couple had been broken for years. To save Ryan's dignity, I kept it all hidden and told everyone that I was the one with the problem. After my mother-in-law made one cutting remark after another about me not being able to have a baby, Ryan finally decided to watch porn movies and try to find some excitement. Hearing his breathing grow heavier from inside the room, I thought her idea had actually worked. Through the narrow crack in the door, I saw Ryan's body respond in a way I had never witnessed before. My face flushed, and I was about to call out to him, but then I saw what he was really watching. It wasn't a porn movie. It was a recording of my sister, Stella Jones. Ryan stared at Stella's face with burning desire in his eyes. His veins stood out as he whispered her name in a breathless voice. "Stelly, Stelly, I-I'm coming..." I stood there frozen, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over me. During our five years of marriage, I had tried every way I could think of, but Ryan had never shown the slightest reaction toward me. Yet a simple recording of Stella could drive him to this point. He wasn't unable to do it. He was only unable to do it with me. My stomach churned, then I kicked the door open...

I had been married to the mafia boss, Rowan Moretti, for a year, and his ex-wife had made 18 attempts to take my unborn baby from me.   The first time, she shoved me straight into the ocean.   The second time, she secretly added abortion pills to the milk I drank.   The third time, she joined forces with Rowan's enemy and had me kidnapped. I was left hanging from a tree for three days and three nights...

The company's midyear conference was about to welcome a high profile client for an onsite visit. Tracy Taylor, an intern who had just been with the company for less than three months, ducked into a corner and whispered, "AI assistant, reserve a Rolls-Royce Cullinan for me for three days. Have it waiting at the airport at 11:00 am three days from now."   So this was how they planned to do it. I lowered my eyes and took a sip of water, hiding the smile tugging at my lips. The night before, I had returned to the office to grab some files and happened to overhear my boss, Tony Lawson, openly discussing with Tracy how they were going to push me out.   "Laura controls all the client connections. People don't even see me as the boss anymore!"   "Tony, relax. I'll make everyone think she's just some cheap woman who slept her way to every client."   "How?"   "I'll take every client she's handling, destroy her reputation, and make sure there's no place left for her in this business."   My fingernails bit into my palm as I slowly breathed out. Tony, my boss and the friend I'd trusted with all my heart, turned out to be nothing but a cold-blooded bastard. Fine. We'd see who ended up ruining whom. I wasn't about to let either of those disgusting parasites walk away untouched.   Snapping back to reality, I saw Tracy spring to her feet and call out, "The Cullinan's all set! We'll greet the VIPs in real style and make them feel important."   I smiled sincerely, "You're right. It's definitely a step above a Maybach."

In the 10th year of my relationship with Victor Atwell, Ravenport's mafia boss, he planned a proposal grand enough to shake the whole city.   But the moment I nodded yes, he opened his mouth and ruined everything.   "10 minutes ago, I slept with Diana right here."   The ring he had just slipped onto my finger, set with tiny diamonds, glittered in the sunlight. He turned it lazily, as if it meant nothing.   "Actually, I had bought you an emerald ring, but Diana liked it, so I gave it to her. The one you're wearing now was a freebie."   Happy tears still clung to my face. For a second, I thought I must have heard him wrong.   "Why?"   Victor looked at me with careless indifference.   "For 10 years, I never touched another woman. But after being with Diana, I realized there was nothing special about you. The family is already used to you, though. You'll still be the matriarch."   I stood frozen in place and looked around.   One by one, everyone in the family lowered their heads and avoided my eyes.   Only then did I realize I was the only fool at this grand proposal who had been kept in the dark.

Gabriel Moretti had long been a byword for death and terror. He was a cold-blooded, merciless mafia don, a true monster through and through. Yet to me, he had always been a perfect, almost tender gentleman.   My brother once warned me in no uncertain terms that, as one of the heirs to the vast conglomerate that spans Euramaria-Auremerica of the Voss family, crossing a man like Gabriel, whose ambition knew no bounds, was nothing short of digging my own grave.   But I was blinded by Gabriel's overwhelming favoritism and foolishly convinced myself that I would be the sole exception in his world. But that night, a gang shootout shattered the sky with gunfire.   Amid the deafening storm of bullets, my husband, who had sworn his life to me, chose without hesitation to place the only bulletproof vest on his first love.   "Stay here. Don't move." Gabriel's deep command fell.   He charged into the smoke and blood-soaked night without a backward glance, for another woman, while I, nine months heavily pregnant, was left there completely defenseless. I watched his broad figure steadily vanish into the mist, knowing it was the final time I would ever see him.   A few seconds later, I lowered my lashes. In my heart, I completely strangled that absurd love, along with every last hope I ever placed in him.

The airport terminal spun. I gripped the counter, but my fingers wouldn't hold. "Ma'am? Ma'am, are you---" The woman's voice faded. I looked down. Blood. Pooling between my feet. Red against gray marble. The Don never went to Kotor. The trip was a lie. Franco's words were still burning in my skull, and the photo on my phone—Vittorio, my husband, his arm around Mara, her lips on his cheek—was time-stamped yesterday. I told myself it couldn't be true. I flew twelve hours not just to save him, but to see the truth for myself. To give him one last chance to prove Franco was lying. I'd flown twelve hours to save a man who was never in danger. I'd crossed a warzone for a man who was in another woman's bed. I pressed a hand to my stomach. Three months. Three months of carrying his child. Three months of believing he'd come home to meet them. My knees buckled. Someone caught me. Voices screamed. Through the blur, I saw the photo one more time: Vittorio's grin, Mara's satisfied smile. The first time, three years of lies. One thousand ninety-five days of pretending he loved me. Then I gave him a second chance. And for three more years, he was the man I thought I married. But the past six months... the lies crept back. I stared at the gray sky. Three years. Every morning he kissed me goodbye. Every night he said he loved me. Every moment, he was already someone else's. I dialed the number I'd saved three years ago. Mara answered on the second ring. "Put my husband on." A pause. Then his voice, desperate. "Claudia---" "I know everything. I have the proof. You get nothing. Not my time. Not another second of my life." "Claudia, please---" I hung up. Tomorrow, I'd destroy him.

This was the fourth time we had attempted to hold this wedding, and Orion Castellan was late again. Only yesterday, he had told me, "This is the wedding I'm holding for you after all these years of secret marriage. I promise to make your fairytale princess dream come true." This time, however, I was the target of online mockery for being a gold digger who had failed at social climbing, and a video of me had been leaked. The internet was flooded with insults like, "Is this woman delusional? She’s clearly lost her mind trying to go from rags to riches." My friends had tried to comfort me by calling us a Cinderella and Prince Charming fairy tale. That was until Orion finally arrived with his childhood friend, looking like he’d been nursing a hangover. After offering a careless apology, he said, "Liana is very ill and wants to experience being a bride. Could you let her have the wedding for a few days?" Liana clung to his arm. "Besides, your marriage license is fake anyway. Stop dreaming. You aren't Cinderella; you're just a placeholder wearing someone else's glass slipper." Orion came over to soothe me with a smile, but his expression froze when he saw my eyes were red and brimming with tears. "Once I take care of this, I'll get you a real marriage license and a proper ceremony." I didn't answer, just offered a bitter smile. He only knew me as Summer, the Cinderella, but he had no idea I was actually Summer Morrow, daughter of Benedict Morrow, the wealthiest tycoon in Crowncrest. I lowered my gaze, pulled out my limited-edition luxury phone, and dialed home.

My family runs the only shop in town that specializes in custom erotic synthoids. One day, my mom hurried out to pick up some supplies and asked me to mind the store, reminding me that a client would be coming by later to collect a custom synthoid. When the customer walked in, he mistook me for one of the synthoids on display and reached out to grab my chest.

My name is Alan Whitmore, and I am the inventor of the core algorithm behind the Mark VII Synthetic. The technology is worth forty-seven billion dollars, with limitless potential ahead. Tonight is my wife Evelyn's birthday. I came home with a bouquet of white roses in my arms, and she said she had something important to tell me. Out in the garden, she sat on the swing in the low-cut blue dress I had given her. The pull of desire made me impatient to be close to her. "Alan." Her hand pressed against my chest and gently pushed me back. "Go inside first." I followed her in. Two strangers were waiting in the living room. "Mr. Whitmore." One of them stood and flashed a badge. "National Security Bureau. You're under arrest on suspicion of leaking the core technology of the Mark VII Synthetic to a foreign power. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?" The white roses hit the floor hard, petals scattering everywhere. "There must be some mistake. I'm the Chief Researcher. How could I possibly..." Before I could finish, cold handcuffs snapped around my wrists. I looked at Evelyn. With her back to the lamp, her face was hidden in shadow, her expression unreadable. It wasn't until I had been pushed into the car that she said softly, "Alan, I'm sorry. But Victor needs this opportunity more than you do." Only then did I understand. She had come into this world from the future with a mission: to take the glory that should have been mine and hand it to her brother-in-law. "Alan is the rising star of tomorrow's science, the chosen prodigy. Taking the blame won't really cost him anything." She believed history could be rewritten, never realizing she was killing the only person who had ever truly loved her. In the end, I died. And when she finally learned the truth, she lost her mind.

For seven years, Damian had never once marked me. Even during my Heat Cycle, he left me to suffer alone and went to comfort another woman. Again and again. The doctor said my inner wolf would fail if I did not receive Alpha scent support soon. So I asked him, "Damian, can you mark me? Even just temporarily?" He did not even look at me. "Our fated-mate compatibility is too low. A mark would be wasted." Later, I was diagnosed with inner wolf failure. On the day I received the report, he was in our bed with another woman. I did not tell him I only had three months left. I simply removed the bond site he had rejected for seven years. And after I died, Damian went mad.

I was injured and left unable to bear children. Kael told me it didn't matter and that he was still willing to become my mate. But on the day of the ceremony, he showed up with a child. "You'll let this child inherit your pack, right?" He smiled at me. "Everyone knows you're supposed to find your mate today. If you break my heart and I walk away, what will become of you and your pack?" "Of course," I smiled and gave a nod. "Today, my mate and I have to stand here together." He lifted the child and cheered with satisfaction while I turned my gaze to the entrance. My wolf was shrieking with excitement, because my true mate was about to arrive.

After my ex-boyfriend tricked me into a million-dollar debt, the team fired me, and the only work I could find was at an underground fight club. "If you can't pay it off, you can always come back to me. I'll still take you in." Julian turned the ring between his fingers—the one from his engagement to another woman. "As long as you agree to be my mistress on the side." I turned, walked out the door, and made a call. "That job you offered, I'll take it." "Good. Last ninety days, and you'll get one million bucks."