My worst enemy would stop at nothing to have me. On my wedding day, he stormed into the hotel, injected me with a drug, and abducted me. When I lost my memory, he lied and told me we were in love. For the first 5 years of our marriage, he barely left my side. Anything I wanted, he gave me. In the sixth, he grew bored. That Halloween, he and his friends threw a party at his family's old mansion. When thunder rumbled late that night, I instinctively went looking for Marcus Blackwood. From the doorway, I saw him with his arms around the new assistant at his company. He'd mentioned her once, saying she reminded him of me when I was younger. Paige Shaw nestled against his chest, playing with the ring on her finger. "Marcus, you gave her your wedding ring?" someone teased. "Aren't you afraid your wife will find out and make a scene?" Marcus kissed Paige's red lips. "Let her. Where's she going to go?" he said casually. "I thought she was out of my league. Turns out, once you've had her, she's nothing special." I pushed the door open. The laughter stopped. Shock flashed across Marcus's face, and he instinctively released Paige. "Vivian? What are you doing here?" Paige paused, then got up from his lap, caught my hair in her fist, and grinned. "Oh, it's the wife. Mr. Blackwood doesn't have time for you. He says he's going to take me all night. You're welcome to watch, if you don't mind." Everyone gasped. Marcus merely smirked at me, as though he were waiting for me to beg him for help. I paid him no mind. I pulled the knife from my pocket and drove it into Paige's palm. Her scream echoed through the mansion. "Sorry," I said with a sneer. "I do mind." What Marcus didn't know was that I was pregnant. The hormonal changes had undone the effects of the drug he'd injected me with. I remembered everything. I never let a grudge die. And there was no telling how far I'd go to settle one. He was finished.

My fiancé of seven years had left me on the brink of death for his childhood sweetheart for the seventh time. The first six times, I endured. After all, I thought if I were good enough, I could warm even a stone. But the seventh time, it happened in our wedding car. For the sake of her scuffed high heels, he left me, blood streaming from my head, at the crash site thick with smoke, and sped away. Before he left, he spoke through his Bluetooth earpiece, unapologetic. "You have always been strong. Just get a cab to the hospital." He was certain I would do as I always had, tend to my wounds quietly and return to be his obedient stepping stone. What he did not know was that I tore the earpiece out and flung it away, then climbed straight into the black Maybach that had followed me faithfully for seven years. Even less did he know that the most powerful man in the city, someone he had never been worthy of meeting, sat there, gently wiping the blood from my forehead. "Mr. Crowhurst," I said, "does what you mentioned earlier, about getting married, still stand?"

When I, Sienna Hart, was 3 months pregnant, Damian Whitmore threw me the lavish wedding we'd never had. But on our wedding day, he decided to play a game called "Guess the Bride." Two photos appeared on the enormous screen. Number one was my younger sister, Vanessa Hart. Number two was me. My photo was an unflattering shot taken during a bout of morning sickness. Vanessa's had been filtered to perfection, fresh-faced and radiant. Then the results came in. Vanessa received 35 votes. I, the actual bride, received none. The color drained from my face. The guests buzzed all around me. "The beauty in photo number one has to be the bride. Number two looks exhausted. Why would Mr. Whitmore marry someone like that?" Even my parents had voted for Vanessa. I stared at them in disbelief. They looked away, and my father sighed. "Look at you. Do you honestly think you look like a bride right now?" Damian walked over to Vanessa, dropped to one knee, and pulled a sparkling diamond ring from his pocket. "Put it on, my bride." Vanessa held up the ring and shot me a triumphant look. "This is a custom piece by one of Verenia's finest designers!" So that was it. They had all chosen Vanessa long ago. I clenched my hands until my fingertips went white. What none of them knew was that the ring was one of my earliest designs. I made a call, my voice perfectly calm. "Meet me in Bellavere in 3 days. I'm coming back to work."

On my wedding day, my fiancé, Adrian Walker, shattered my dreams in front of everyone. At the altar, instead of slipping the wedding ring onto my finger, he dropped a bombshell. His ex-girlfriend, Sofia Mitchell, was carrying his baby.   With all our guests watching, Adrian looked at me and said, "A child needs a real father. Once Sofia gets better, I'll divorce her and come back to marry you."   Everyone believed I would wait for him. After all, I had spent 10 years loving Adrian. I had stayed by his side as he climbed from the forgotten illegitimate son of the Walker family to the future heir of their empire.   But Adrian never knew that on the very night he called off our wedding, I said yes to Julian Carter and left for our honeymoon in Valenland.   Six years later, I accompanied my husband to the charity gala celebrating the Bennett Foundation's 80th anniversary. Julian suddenly developed a high fever and was taken to the hospital by his private doctor. With no choice, he sent the family's car fleet to pick me up from the airport.   I never imagined that the second I stepped out of the arrivals hall, I would come face to face with Adrian, the man I hadn't seen in six years. He stood in my way, acting as casually as if the past six years had never happened. "Six years is long enough. You should stop this childish act. Sofia's daughter is about to start elementary school. Come back. From now on, you'll handle her rides to school, her education, and everything else."

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.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I meant to tell Grant Whitlock I was pregnant.   I waited until late that night. All I got was a safe delivered by his assistant, along with a sneer.   "Mr. Whitlock is busy. Unlike you, he has a job. Stop bothering him. Here, this is your fifth-anniversary gift."   For Grant, I had given up a promising career at a top investment bank to help him build his company.   Now everyone saw me as a useless woman living off him.   I swallowed my anger and took the safe.   I tried my birthday and every anniversary I could think of. None of them worked.   I called Grant. "What's the code?"   "980218," he snapped.   Just then, a news alert popped up on my phone.   "$100B Tycoon Charters Luxury Yacht to Woo Actress Monica Ellis"   In the photo, Grant was kissing Monica. The sight of his smile hurt.   So that was why he was too busy with work to celebrate our anniversary. He had been spending it with another woman.   My hands shook as I opened a browser and searched.   980218 was Monica's birthday.   I opened the safe. Inside was a piece of Monica's lingerie and a handwritten letter.   Love you, Grant!   I went cold. Nausea rose in my throat.   I rested a hand on my belly, my resolve hardening.   Then I dialed a number I knew by heart.   "Mr. Shaw, I'll take that overseas project we discussed."

A downpour hit just as dinner ended. I stood outside my brother's car, my umbrella blown inside out by the wind, rain soaking through my clothes. He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Natalie picked out these plush toys tonight. They'll get crushed in the trunk, so they have to go in the back. See? There's no room." Our adopted sister bit her lip and edged closer to my boyfriend. "It's my fault, Lauren. I shouldn't have asked for so many presents." The man I'd grown up with turned to soothe her. "This isn't your fault. She works out all the time. A walk home will help her burn off dinner." My best friend passed a torn raincoat through the window. "It's only a few blocks. Seven blocks and you're home." Before I even had a proper grip on it, my brother hit the gas. Muddy water splashed straight into my eyes. My phone was dead. I couldn't book a ride. Rain poured through the holes in the coat and down my chest until my fingertips went numb. And suddenly, I understood. My share of the family home. A place at the head table for an older relative's birthday. Even a seat in a car that held five people. Whenever Natalie was there, I was the one expected to go without. Even if it meant freezing in the rain. I wiped the water off my face and stopped walking. I clicked Confirm on the one-way transfer overseas.

Ever since I was little, I'd been able to see the true price of everything.   At midnight on Black Friday, my stepsister snapped up a wishing necklace in a mysterious livestream. The host claimed that for just 1 dollar, it would grant any wish the buyer made.   But I couldn't take my eyes off the thick black mist coiling across the screen. The label read:   True price: 10 years of your closest relative's life.   I lunged for her phone, snatched it away, and shouted that she couldn't buy it.   She shoved me back and pointed in my face. "Stealing my new clothes wasn't enough? Now you want to steal a 1-dollar deal from me too?"   My stepmother rushed over and slapped me hard across the face.   "Get jealous of your sister's things again, and I'll throw you out!"   They grabbed the phone back and eagerly hit Pay. I held a hand to my swollen cheek and didn't say another word.   Instead, I took two steps back and pulled the family records out of my bag.   "If you want it that badly, go ahead and buy it."   They had no idea I'd had my family ties legally severed and notarized just last night.

During our 3 years in different countries, Victor Haines flew to see me ninety-nine times.   I'd offered to visit him in Bellacourt, too.   He would just cup my face. "You get lost on campus, sweetheart. What would I do if I lost you in Bellacourt?"   My best friend, Monica Reed, worked at his company. She laughed at me, too. "If he's happy to make the trip, just let him. I certainly wouldn't put myself through all that."   "You'll understand when you fall in love," I teased.   She waved a hand. "No, thanks. I'm never getting married."   This time, I didn't tell either of them I was coming. I flew to Bellacourt alone, carrying a pregnancy test with two lines on it.   Following the directions to his place, I passed a hotel where a wedding was underway.   The moment I saw the welcome poster, my mind went blank.   In the photograph, Monica stood with her arm linked through Victor's, beaming.   She'd said she would never marry. He'd promised to marry me by the end of the year.   I stood frozen for a long time before calling him.   "Where are you?"   "At the office. What's wrong?"   Just then, the officiant's voice rang out inside the hotel.   "Will the groom please welcome his bride?"   The same voice came through my phone.

On Halloween, I ran out onto the street in a psychiatric hospital gown.   My boyfriend and my two childhood friends were supposed to wear matching gowns. Instead, all three were dressed as knights, down on one knee arranging the hem of my best friend Vanessa Bellamy's princess gown.   The four of them burst out laughing when they saw what I was wearing.   Vanessa tipped up her chin. "Well, look who escaped from the psych ward. Kneel before your princess!"   When he saw my expression, my boyfriend, Darren Ridley, got up and stepped protectively in front of her.   "I changed the theme. I forgot to tell you. Don't take it out on Vanessa."   He'd forgotten again.   The last time we'd gone to the amusement park, they'd changed the time. By the time I arrived, all four had finished and were on their way out.   Before that, we'd agreed to race to the top of a mountain. I waited at the summit in the rain for 3 hours. When I called, they told me Vanessa had wanted to see a movie, so none of them had bothered to come.   Of the five of us, I was always the one they forgot to tell.   Vanessa walked away, and the three of them followed like knights escorting their princess.   Tears blurred their retreating figures.   I took out my phone and sent a message.   Camille: Dad, you mentioned having me manage the overseas branch. I'll do it.

My father was a real estate mogul. When his childhood friend Bridget Cole returned from studying abroad, he suddenly went bankrupt and fell into debt.   From then on, my uncle, Derek Mercer, my mother's childhood friend Simon Reeves, and Bridget all went to the construction site with my father to haul bricks and help pay off his debts.   My mother, Lydia Mercer, stayed home to look after me, her 5-year-old daughter, and did everyone's cooking and laundry. She was so determined to save money that she wouldn't even take medicine for her cough. Over time, she started coughing up blood.   The first time I saw it, I cried and tried to tell my father. My mother wrapped her arms around me to stop me. She said he was exhausted and she couldn't add to his worries.   The second time, my father saw her cough up blood. He panicked and tried to take her to the hospital. Derek and Simon looked worried too.   Bridget scoffed. "What an actress! The people hauling bricks all day are fine, but the one sitting around at home is coughing up blood?"   My father's face darkened. "Lydia, stop it."   Derek and Simon looked at her coldly. My mother gave a pained smile and covered her mouth, desperately trying not to cough.   The last time, she coughed up blood all over the floor and collapsed onto a pile of dirty clothes. She never woke up. Her body grew colder and colder.   This time, I didn't do as she'd told me. I ran to find my father, crying. He, Derek, Simon, and Bridget were supposed to be working hard hauling bricks. Instead, I found them in clean, expensive clothes, bossing others around.

Luna's POV:   We had just finished ordering a wedding ring at the jewelry counter when Isaac Mercer took my hands and breathed on them to warm them.   "Baby, the ring fits you perfectly. But I had them engrave someone else's name inside."   I looked up at him in disbelief. "What did you say?"   He smiled and gently smoothed the hair the wind had blown across my face. "I took a liking to a recent college graduate 3 months ago. Turns out she has principles. She wouldn't take money. She insisted on being my wife, so I married her yesterday. I brought you here to check the fit of this pink diamond for her. It's her wedding ring, after all."   As though I hadn't heard him properly, I asked in a trembling voice, "But you promised me that diamond as our third-anniversary gift."   He sighed, looking even more innocent. "Be good. You'll still be Mrs. Mercer. I've loved you for all these years, but your husband wants to see what it's like with an innocent 18-year-old. If you're upset, go back inside and pick out some more jewelry."   He bent down and kissed my forehead.   The shop window still reflected two people who looked perfect together. I lowered my head and gave a quiet laugh.   Then I put away the notarized waiver of my inheritance as the richest man's daughter.

With 2 hours to go before my college choice was locked in, I stood outside the private karaoke room and heard laughter from inside.   The transfer student, Monica Sutton, pointed at the laptop, its screen still unlocked, and winked at my childhood sweetheart, Derek Hargrove.   "Dare done! I changed Erin's college choice from Briarcrest U to Seabrook U. She won't be mad when she gets back, will she?"   Derek sat back on the couch. Far from getting angry, he tossed her the car keys from the table as a prize.   "Why would she be mad? The system doesn't close for another hour. We're just scaring her. She can change it back herself when she gets here."   I looked down at the two iced Americanos I'd just bought. My knuckles had gone white on the cups.   For 12 years, Derek had bristled if anyone so much as smudged my homework. Yet now, knowing exactly what Briarcrest U meant to me, he was letting Monica turn my future into a game.   I didn't open the door and confront him.   'If he thinks he can play games with my life, then I won't go to Briarcrest U. I'll give them what they want and go to Seabrook U instead.'

On my wedding day, the makeup artist bailed at the last minute due to a personal emergency. Sebastian Parker's childhood sweetheart, Valerie Morgan, offered to do my makeup instead, saying she'd learned how to do it before. We were already cutting it way too close on time, so I had no choice but to agree. But halfway through the application, my face started itching so bad I screamed and bolted straight for the bathroom. When I glanced in the mirror, my blood ran cold, my face was already swelling up, and patches of skin were starting to redden and fester. I snatched up the cosmetics she'd been using, only to find every single one of them was past its expiration date. She followed me over, looking all wide-eyed and innocent. "It's only a few days past the expiration date, it's no big deal, Elena Collins. You just have way too sensitive skin." When Sebastian found out what happened, he didn't so much as snap at Valerie. Instead, he laid the blame entirely on me for not checking the products beforehand. His voice was cold and sharp over the phone. "The wedding procession is almost here. How are you supposed to show your face looking like that?" My chest seized up so hard I thought my heart was going to burst. The pain was so bad I could barely breathe without trembling. Before I could say a word, Valerie grabbed the phone right out of my hand. She giggled like this was all some silly game. "Sebastian, how about I pretend to be the bride for the day instead? Everyone knows me anyway; No one will mind." Sebastian went quiet for a few seconds, then said, "Okay, Valerie. I owe you one." I was so shocked I could barely speak. I was just about to argue when my mom, Cordelia Collins, yanked me off to the corner and started snapping at me, "If you go out there looking like that, you'll embarrass our whole family. It's just one day, for crying out loud! Valerie is doing you a favor!" Then my supposed best friend, who was supposed to be my bridesmaid, Mariel Gray, handed me a face mask. "Elena, be the bigger person, okay? Don't make a mess of things for everyone." Ice flooded my veins, and I went completely rigid. Not long after, the wedding ceremony was underway. Valerie was wearing the wedding dress I'd designed myself, sitting in the bridal suite I'd spent weeks decorating down to the last tiny detail. My own fiancé was down on one knee in front of her, reciting the wedding vows that were supposed to be for me. Everyone around was cheering and clapping, shouting their congratulations. Not a single person noticed the girl standing in the dark corner, masked up, who was actually supposed to be the bride that day. Tears soaked straight through my face mask. I let out a cracked, bitter, hollow laugh, turned and left, and pulled out my phone to make a call. "You know that overseas project lead position you brought up a while back? I'm taking it, effective immediately."

I had been married to Leander Voss, a hospital director and cardiac surgeon, for 10 years. We had a 7-year-old daughter.   On her birthday, my husband promised to take her to the amusement park. We waited from 8 a.m. until noon, but he never came home.   I called him over and over. He never answered. In the end, all I got was a curt text telling me we would have to wait.   Leander: An emergency came in. I can't get away. We'll go to the amusement park another time.   Once again, he was putting it off. I had lost count of how often he had done that.   When it was time for our daughter's parent-teacher conference, he said he was working the night shift and couldn't get away. When we held a party to celebrate her first day of school, he said a last-minute medical conference had come up and work had to come first. When she had her graduation performance, he said a patient had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. A life was at stake.   He missed every important occasion, always with a perfectly reasonable excuse.   Then I took our daughter to the amusement park myself and found him celebrating the birthday of Davina Cresswell's son.   "Dad, will you spend my birthday with me next year, too?" Ansel Kershaw asked.   "Of course." Leander patiently adjusted the boy's party hat. "I'll be there for every birthday from now on. I promise!"   Davina smiled as she took photos of them.   At last, I understood.   'He isn't too busy. He's simply given all his tenderness and time to someone else. Leander, this time, neither my daughter nor I need you anymore.'

On the day of our daughter's school field day, my husband failed to show up again.   I comforted her, "Daddy's busy with work. I'll make him apologize to you later."   Then I turned and saw him giving his first love's daughter a piggyback, laughing with her on the grass.   My daughter asked timidly, "Is that Daddy? He's carrying Lila. Doesn't he want me anymore?"   My throat closed up. I didn't know what to say.   She burst into tears. "On my birthday, Daddy left me behind too. He only took Lila to the amusement park."   His first love stood nearby holding a sun umbrella. Her gentle smile was painful to look at. In a teasing voice, she said, "Lila, look how much your dad loves you. He even gave you Becca's tiara."   Sure enough, the tiara my husband had promised to buy our daughter, worth $1.5 million, was clamped tightly around Lila's head.   Becca ran over in tears to take it back. My husband shoved her hand away. She fell hard and sobbed.   "Becca, Daddy didn't mean to..."   He apologized, but he kept a firm grip on Lila's hand. He wouldn't even bend down to help our daughter up.   That was when I realized Graham Kessler didn't love our child.   I looked into Becca's tear-filled eyes, lifted her into my arms, and said softly, "Daddy's been awful to us. We don't need him anymore."

On my daughter's seventh birthday, she made a wish over the tiny bargain-store cake on our table. Pressing her palms together, she squeezed her eyes shut and announced, "I hope Aunt Claire can be my real mom in my next life!" The glass in my hand shook. "Why don't you want to be Mommy's daughter anymore?" I asked hoarsely. Lily opened her eyes. They were filled with envy for another little girl. "Because whenever Ava cries, Daddy picks her up and kisses her. When the fire started at the amusement park last week, Daddy only carried her out. He left me in the fire. He said Aunt Claire gets scared easily and couldn't survive losing her daughter." I bit my lip until it hurt as tears struck the back of my hand. That day, Lily had inhaled so much smoke that she spent three days in intensive care. When I slapped my husband in blind panic, he had blamed me instead. "Claire is your best friend. Have you forgotten she has depression? I'm only looking after her and Ava because of you, and this is how you repay me? By making a scene?" I gently touched the burned side of my daughter's face. "You don't have to wait for another life," I told her. "Mommy will find you a new daddy who loves only you."

My husband, Nathan Fletcher, was one of Harborbrook's most well-known news anchors. He spent years digging up and exposing the dirty secrets of rich and powerful people, so he'd made more enemies than he could count.   On the coldest day in Harborbrook, our daughter Lila Fletcher was snatched by one of those vengeful enemies. They locked her in a freezer set to negative twenty degrees Celsius, and streamed the whole thing live for the entire internet to see.   I stared at the feed, my blood turning to ice. They'd torn off Lila's school uniform, and she was shaking so hard her whole body trembled, her small frame wracked with violent chills.   My mind went completely blank. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Nathan's number like a woman possessed, my fingers slipping on the screen again and again.   I called him dozens of times in a row, but each call went straight to a beep as he rejected it. I kept calling, my chest tight with a suffocating panic, until finally, the line connected.   "Nathan! Lila's been kidnapped! They're streaming it live!" I screamed, my voice cracking with terror.   "Enough." His voice was cold, flat, and tinged with obvious exhaustion, like I was nothing more than a pesky fly buzzing in his ear.   "Daphne Fletcher, you're actually insane if you think this little stunt will get me to pay attention to you.   "Today is Autumn's daughter's birthday party. I promised her I'd fill in as a dad for her girl for the day. Did you really pick today to throw this tantrum? What's the point?"   The line went dead before I could say another word. I stared blankly at my phone screen, my entire body going numb, like I'd been dumped straight into that freezer with Lila.   I didn't have time to process the gut punch of his words. The kidnappers were demanding a five million ransom. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, forcing myself to pull it together and call the police. The officers told me to withdraw the money first to keep the kidnappers calm, so they wouldn't hurt Lila before they could get to her. But when I rushed to the bank, the teller told me all withdrawals from our joint account required my husband's signature.   I sprinted to the banquet hall, my shoes slapping against the marble floor. The second I threw the doors open, I saw him: Nathan, in a casual tailored suit, holding the hand of Marnie, the daughter of his first love, Autumn Stone. Autumn stood right beside him, her fingers brushing gently against his collar as she fixed his tie.   The three of them stood there, perfect and warm under the twinkling party lights, looking for all the world like a real, happy family.   I ran straight at him, dropping to my knees right in front of him, my voice cracking as I begged him to sign the withdrawal slip. But he just grabbed the paper out of my hand, ripped it straight down the middle, and let the pieces flutter to the floor at my feet.   "Have you had enough of this stupid act yet?" he snarled, looking down at me like I was garbage.   I shoved my phone right in his face, the live stream still playing. On the screen, Lila's lips were purple-black and frost had crusted over her eyelashes. She was sobbing, her voice raw and tiny, screaming for her mom.   He gave the screen a single, dismissive glance, and scowled like he'd just seen something distasteful. "Stop bothering me with this dumb prank." He turned around, picked Marnie up in his arms, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "C'mon, cut the cake with Uncle."

On the wedding day, all our family and friends stood in front of the church, full of hope. But Asher Brooks would not let me step inside. "Just wait a little longer. It's not time yet, Alana," he said. I thought he had something important to take care of, so I stood there and waited for more than an hour. Then I saw it with my own eyes, his first love, Sienna Callahan, rushing toward the church wearing a wedding dress exactly like mine. "Asher, I knew you'd wait for me!" she called out. She reached out and slipped onto her finger the large diamond engagement ring Asher had made just for me.  I was the one who drew that design, working on it nonstop for three days and three nights. I felt cold all over, as if I had fallen into ice. Asher leaned close to me, his voice low and rough. "Sienna's birthday is today. I have to grant her this wish . . . to marry me." He reached out and touched my arm. "Be good. Don't make this harder for me, okay?" I wiped my tears away and nodded. "Fine. I'll step aside so you two can be together." Today also marks the third month that the CEO of the rival company, the man who has been pursuing me, has been in my life. If Asher won't be my groom, then I will choose someone else. 

Where I grew up, there was an old tradition called "first-night blessing". The day a couple moved into their new home, a young unmarried girl had to spend one night in the master bedroom so the marriage would be a happy one. But when I opened the bedroom door late that night, the person lying in our wedding bed was my fiancé's first love, Madeline Moore. She was wearing my custom-made pajamas and curled up in his arms, looking sweet and fragile. When they saw me frozen in the doorway, my fiancé's friends laughed and tried to smooth things over. "Come on, Audrey, don't be like that," one of them said. "It's just a tradition. Who cares who does it?" Another one chimed in. "Maddie's kind of a fraidy cat. She can't sleep alone, so Ethan's just being a gentleman." I looked at my fiancé, Ethan Lowell, and waited for him to give me some kind of explanation. But all he did was tuck the blanket around Madeline, and when he spoke, he sounded a little annoyed. "We can't break the tradition. Maddie's been having trouble sleeping lately, and this mattress is comfortable for her. Just make do in the guest room tonight." In that moment, looking at the bed they'd tainted, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I didn't lose it and demand answers like I used to. Instead, I calmly took out my phone and called my real estate agent, Kevin Doyle. "Kevin, I don't want this condo anymore. Knock $1,000,000 off the price. I want it closed by tomorrow morning." If Ethan liked having her warm his bed so much, she could warm it for the rest of his life.

After a two-week business trip, my husband, Caleb Warren, picked me up at the airport.  The moment he told the GPS, "Take us home," an unfamiliar condo complex appeared on the screen. It wasn't Lakecrest Residences, where we had lived for five years. He sounded flustered. "It's an investment condo. I've been going there a lot lately and must've saved the wrong address." He reached for the screen, but I stopped him. "Perfect. Take me there." When we arrived, I found his ex-girlfriend standing on a chair, taping balloons to the wall. Through the open door, I saw wedding photos of the two of them hanging inside. I froze. In the five years we had been married, I had asked Caleb every year when we could finally have the wedding we'd never gotten to have. He was a security team supervisor, and every time I brought it up, he said things were too busy at the security company. Caleb steadied the chair before turning to pull me closer. "She's leaving the country next month. She just wants to fulfill one dream before she goes. It'll only be a wedding. We won't get legally married. You're still my wife." His ex climbed down and linked her arm through his. "We promised we'd get married by 30. I've waited 10 years. Can't I borrow him for a day?" I looked at Caleb. He avoided my eyes. "I made her a promise back then. I have to keep it. Don't overthink this." 'So he does understand what it means to keep a promise. The promises he made to me are simply the ones that can always wait.' Caleb pressed the car keys into my hand. "Go home first. Once tomorrow's over, we can get back to our life together." I tightened my fingers around the keys. After a long moment, I finally said, "Okay." 'Caleb, the route home can be reset. But I won't be there waiting forever.'

The Grayson family heir had to choose his fiancée while blindfolded before he could officially inherit the family fortune.   Before the ceremony began, I sprayed on the perfume Julian Grayson knew better than any other scent. All I wanted was to make sure he'd recognize me.   But he avoided me on purpose, and his hand landed perfectly on Sienna Jensen's hand.   Later, he pulled me into a corner. "I'm sorry. I chose Sienna."   I stared at him, refusing to believe what he had done. "Why?"   He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisted with pain.   "I've been reborn. In my last life, Sienna wasn't chosen. She jumped off a building and killed herself. I can't watch her die again this time. I'll definitely choose you in our next life."   What he didn't know was that I'd been reborn too.   In my last life, Julian had blamed me entirely for Sienna's death. He'd left me alone in that cold, empty house while everyone around me turned their backs.   When he was on his deathbed, he'd clutched my hand and sworn that if we got another life together, he'd never let me down.   I'd believed him.   I'd convinced myself that every time he'd tested my sincerity the previous times, so I played along with him time and time again.   But this was the last time.   If he was still dead set on choosing her, then I was letting go.

The day we went for my wedding dress fitting, my fiancé picked up a call, then grabbed my wedding gown to bail out his female business partner. Our flight to the wedding venue was scheduled to take off in just three hours. Seven years ago, he'd sworn he'd keep me from being wronged for my whole life. Yet here we were, and I'd been the one giving in nonstop for this wedding. I threw the diamond ring away. I was done with this wedding.

Just 12 hours before I was set to walk down the aisle, my younger sister, Nicole, smirked and drew the "Surprise Card" our parents had rigged. The rule? She got to make one "harmless" wedding wish. A split second later, scissors sliced through my $4,000 custom wedding gown. "Oops! Total accident! Hold still, Ruby—I'll just turn it into a cute mini-dress. Trust me, it'll show off your legs way better!" My whole body went numb. I turned to my fiancé, Xavi Kline, on the couch, waiting for him to step in. He didn't. Instead, he gripped my shoulders and whispered, "Come on, Nicole's just messing around to break the ice. Don't be a buzzkill." Right on cue, his phone pinged with a notification from the family group chat: a $300 transfer. My mom's voice message popped up: "Nicole wins, your dad lost the bet. She never let us down!" With stinging eyes, I yanked the phone out of his hand. Scrolling past the chat, I spot a title registry alert. The house we'd bought together? 3 days ago, he'd secretly signed it over to Nicole. It all clicked. When she pushed me into the pool at 12, when she ripped up my college application at 24... my parents' excuse was always the same: Nicole deserves the best, so just step aside and let her have her moment. 30 years of playing nice and swallowing my anger, all to be the "good sister"—the perfect sacrifice whenever it was convenient for them. I looked down and texted the wedding planner. Ruby: Cancel tomorrow's ceremony. We're throwing a breakup party instead. This time, I'd make the rules.

When our daughter, Erika, was fighting for her life in the ICU, Simon Nelson couldn't even be bothered to show up. Even after the worst was over, and the doctor told us she needed her father around, he was still nowhere to be seen. Turns out, he was too busy throwing a birthday bash for his first love, Eunice, and her daughter. He didn't stop there, either. He spent 200 million on a pair of pink diamonds at an auction just to design custom matching necklaces for the two of them. Erika got nothing. She wasn't even allowed to call him "Dad." Because after 6 long years of being forced into this secret marriage, the rest of the world still thinks Eunice is his actual wife. When Erika accidentally called Simon "Dad" in public, Eunice had a meltdown, sobbed, and threatened to pack up and leave. And because Erika wouldn't apologize for things she hadn't done, Simon locked our 5-year-old in a dark room to "think about what she did." She cried herself hysterical in the dark until her lips turned blue, and we had to rush her to the hospital in the middle of the night. Simon finally decided to stroll into the hospital long after she was out of the woods. And just like that, something inside me snapped. I'm done with this man.

In the fifth year of my mate bond with Logan, Erica Sutton, the Omega I had once rescued from the Low Quarter, appeared at a pack banquet, visibly pregnant. She stroked her swollen belly and announced in a soft, fragile voice in front of all the guests that she was carrying my Alpha husband Logan Brooks's child.   Logan's face went cold. He crushed his wineglass in his hand and pointed at the door. "Take that bastard and get out!"   Back at Brooks Manor, he looked regretful and agitated as he pulled me into a tight embrace and hurried to explain himself. "She slipped me a high-dose illegal aphrodisiac. I completely lost consciousness and had no idea what was happening. I've already sent a private healer to terminate the pregnancy. I will never allow a child conceived through a scheme like that to live. You're the Brooks family's only Luna, and you're the love of my life."   Seeing the certainty in his eyes, I believed him.   Logan disappeared three years later during a bloody clash with the underground hunter syndicate beyond our territory. I fought my way in alone to find him. In the smoke-filled ruins, I found him in his giant wolf form, shielding Erica and a three-year-old pup with his body. The child looked just like Logan, and Erica was heavily pregnant again. My blood ran cold. He never had that first child aborted.

I was born with a heart condition. I couldn't handle sudden shocks or strenuous exercise.   On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend, Todd Keller, was supposedly stabbed in the abdomen by an attacker and left covered in blood.   Ignoring the distress in my chest, I ran nearly two miles to his office in a panic.   When I arrived, I found him on a video call with his childhood friend, Fiona Webb.   "You were right. So much for her congenital heart condition and not being able to exercise. One little scare, and she ran faster than a rabbit."   My face went white with rage, but Todd merely pointed at the nitroglycerin vial hanging from my neck.   "Your medicine is right there. Stop pretending."   With trembling hands, I removed a pill from the pendant and put it in my mouth. An explosion of heat instantly sent a spasm of pain through my chest.   Fiona burst into laughter.   "It's an extreme hot-pepper candy! You didn't even notice your medicine had been switched. Guess it can't be that important."   My best friend laughed along with her.   "Look at the video I got! She's coughing and crying like a clown!"   Then my own brother's mocking voice rang out.   "Todd's the best. He staged the whole thing to make her run, scared her into an attack, and filmed her humiliating herself so Fiona could have a laugh. At least Fiona finally got some payback."   Todd gave Fiona an indulgent look before turning to me with a sigh.   "The future Mrs. Keller can't be a cowardly, jealous weakling. Think of this as exposure therapy. It's for your own good."   The crushing pain in my heart left me unable to breathe.   So that was all I was to him: a cowardly, jealous weakling.   This time, I would never forgive him.

3 days before our wedding, my fiancé, Troy Benson, locked my cochlear implant processor in a safe.   He said he wanted to surprise me at the wedding and asked me to put up with it for 3 days.   When I refused, he laughed. "You managed just fine before you started wearing it, didn't you?"   The next day, during my wedding makeup trial, my younger sister stood behind me.   Suddenly, everyone in the room burst out laughing.   I asked what she had said. Troy signed that she had called me beautiful.   That night, my wedding makeup artist secretly sent me a video from the trial.   I can read lips. In it, my sister asked, "Brooke, if I were pregnant with Troy's baby, would you let me have the wedding?"   Troy laughed louder than anyone.   He even told her, "Say it behind her. She can't read your lips from there."   I watched the video three times.   When he pursued me years ago, he spent 6 months learning sign language.   He said that when no one else could hear my world, he would step inside it.   Now he had taken away that bridge just so everyone could watch me fall.   I hired a locksmith to open the safe, retrieved my processor, replaced the battery, and told the hotel to cancel the wedding.   Troy came after me and asked if someone had turned me against him.   I heard him perfectly. For the first time, I didn't answer.   Later, he stood beneath my apartment and called my name all night.   I closed the window and gave that belated sound back to a wind that no longer lingered.

After lunch, my daughter accidentally fell down the stairs at home and lost consciousness on the spot.   I carried her and raced to the private hospital my husband ran near our home.   I called him frantically the entire way, but he never answered.   I sent messages, but he didn't reply.   When I reached the hospital and tried to take the elevator, a security guard stopped me.   "I'm sorry. Dr. Nash just announced that the hospital will be treating only one patient today. You should try another hospital."   I carried my daughter up nine flights of stairs to the director's office. There, I found my husband, Peter Nash, coaxing a little boy with candy.   A woman stood beside them.   He glanced at me and froze.   "Peter, Sally fell down the stairs and passed out. Please examine her now."   Peter's expression changed. He hurried over to check on her.   The little boy coughed twice, and my husband's attention snapped back to him. Only after making sure the boy was fine did he look at me again.   "Sally's fine. She only has a few superficial injuries...   "Cody has a cough, and I suspect a lung infection. He needs a full diagnostic workup, including a lung puncture, immediately, or there could be lasting complications.   "I'll be tied up here for at least another 2 hours. You can wait or take Sally to another hospital."   With that, he turned and walked away without giving our daughter or me another glance.   I knew the woman and child. They were my husband's first love, Laura Dean, and her son, Cody Dean.   At that instant, I felt something inside me shatter.   I said nothing. I simply carried my daughter away.   At that moment, I stopped wanting the devoted husband and happy family everyone else envied.

At 5:30 p.m., the County Clerk's Office was about to shut down its system for the day. The clerk gave me a sympathetic look. I was the only person left in the lobby. "Ma'am, are you still waiting?" I looked down at the ID in my hand, damp with sweat, and shook my head. "No." The wind cut through me the moment I stepped outside. Ethan Cole finally called, with soft mall music playing in the background. "I'm sorry, Kate. There was a pileup, and traffic is completely backed up." He sounded genuinely apologetic, almost helpless. "Can we get our marriage license tomorrow instead? Tomorrow works too." I stood in the freezing wind and looked across the street at an upscale jewelry store. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, Ethan was patiently helping his former girlfriend, Vanessa Reed, try on an enormous diamond ring. Vanessa had posted on social media the day before. My hand feels so empty. I wish I had someone by my side. That was why Ethan had turned around halfway to the clerk's office. "You don't have to explain." My voice was strangely calm. Ethan paused, clearly not expecting me to let it go so easily, and his tone immediately relaxed. "I knew you'd understand. I'll bring home your favorite chestnut cake to make it up to you." 'Ethan Cole.' I repeated his name silently as I watched his gentle profile through the glass. 'I'm not going tomorrow either.'

The daughter I'd conceived through IVF with my husband Charles was diagnosed with a severe mental disorder when she was 5. Every year, right before Christmas, she'd have an episode. The moment she saw me, she'd scream that she wanted to kill herself. To help her recover, Charles would drop everything every year and take her to Rosehaven for a change of scenery. They'd stay there for 6 months every time. He always told me, "Susie gets triggered by you when she's having an episode. If you're around, she'll completely fall apart. Wait until she's stable. Then the two of you can build a proper mother-daughter bond. We've got plenty of time. We'll have plenty of chances to spend Christmas together." I was deeply touched by how thoughtful he was, and my heart ached for Susie and what she was going through. So for the next 5 years, I stayed home alone, keeping the estate running by myself. It wasn't until the 6th year that Susie's medical file was accidentally left behind at the house. I caught the first available flight to Rosehaven. But the moment I stepped off the plane, I watched my daughter throw herself into the arms of a complete stranger, call her "Mommy," and whine, "Why do I have to pretend to be crazy every year?" The woman's eyes crinkled at the corners as she asked in a pouty voice, "When is she finally going to find out that Susie is our daughter?" Charles pulled her into his arms and soothed her. "Soon. Once Susie's a little older, I'll take care of everything." My heart pounded so hard against my ribs that I thought it might burst out of my chest. Until they'd disappeared from sight, a weak laugh escaped me. I turned around and dialed my dad's number. "Dad, help me look into the IVF clinic we went to 10 years ago. I'm gonna make Charles rot in prison for the rest of his life."

I'd been in love with Damon for three years, and today was finally supposed to be our wedding day. Just moments before the ceremony, he cornered me outside the bridal suite. "I want to fulfill my sister-in-law's wish first. She'll be the one walking down the aisle in your place today." Then his mother publicly tore off my wedding dress. I thought Damon would stop her. Instead, he only pulled me aside and murmured, "It's just a ceremony. Give my mom this one thing, and I'll give you whatever you want afterward." His sister-in-law smiled sweetly. "Don't worry. I'm only standing in for you. I'm not trying to take your place." I laughed. Then I grabbed a pair of scissors and shredded my wedding dress, tossing the ruined gown straight into Damon's arms. "Damon, whoever wants this wedding can have it. I'm done."

I knew the day would come when I'd be exposed for using Henry Foster's first love to get ahead. A swarm of reporters surrounded me, blocking every possible escape. "Miss Parker, is it true that you deliberately had plastic surgery to look like the Sullivan family's daughter so you could seduce Mr. Foster—and walked away with three hundred million dollars after three years?" "Are you planning to use the baby to get a share of the Foster Group?" I said nothing. I simply let Henry's bodyguards shield me as they forced a path through the crowd. Inside the blacked-out Maybach, the man beside me was as cold and untouchable as ever. "Samantha, how dare you get pregnant without my permission?" The tears I'd been holding back all the way finally spilled over. "I did everything because… I loved you." Henry frowned. The lawyer beside him immediately handed me a contract. "Miss Parker, all you have to do is terminate the pregnancy and sign the divorce agreement. Your fifty-million-dollar settlement will be transferred immediately." I didn't take it. I lowered my eyes, hiding my expression in the darkness. 'Henry, you think fifty million dollars is enough to get rid of me? Dream on.'

The fifth year I worked as a hotel cleaning lady, I woke up to some crazy ability. I could hear bedsheets talk. At first, all they did was complain about getting wine spilled on them or getting burned by cigarette butts. Then this couple checked out with this huge suitcase. Bigger than normal. The man was wearing sunglasses. He casually slipped me two hundred bucks as a tip. He pointed at the half-open door behind him and smirked. "Ma'am, my girlfriend's a heavy sleeper. Give it a little while before you go in." But the second I took that cash, I heard the dirty sheets on my cart let out this terrified wail. "So heavy! Why's he pouring that red water all over me? And that lady's already been packed into the big suitcase! She's cut up into pieces, and they ain't gonna fit back together!" The guy was still standing there, casual as could be, waiting for the elevator. My hands went cold. I gripped the handle of my cart so hard my knuckles went white. "Hold on, sir. I think you left your ID with me."

In my past life, I took pity on Cecily Hayes as an impoverished student and wanted to sponsor her. But then, a line of system notification floated before my eyes: [Don't help her. If you do, she will frame you, and your entire family will be ruined.] I didn't believe it and sponsored her for four consecutive years anyway. As a result, at her graduation ceremony, she clutched her chest and cried tears of blood, "Evelyn Clark, the CEO of Apex Group, used sponsoring my studies as a pretext to blackmail me into becoming her high-class escort! Even if my reputation is ruined today, I will bring the truth to light so no more women are deceived by her!" Suddenly, the internet was flooded with relentless abuse and accusations directed at me. My company's stock plummeted to bankruptcy, and my father died of a sudden myocardial infarction right then and there from sheer anger. To prove my innocence, I jumped from a thirty-story building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first sponsored Cecily Hayes. I spun on my heel, ready to leave. But the system notification appeared in front of me again: [Don't go! Hurry and help her! Once she finishes her studies, she'll be the only top expert who can save your father's heart!] I froze in place. In my past life, I had ignored every single warning from the system notifications, only for all of them to play out exactly as predicted. But in this life, the system notifications are saying this same girl can save my father. Should I believe it?

My name is Selena Hartley. On the day of the Luna Ceremony, the groom standing at the altar was not my Alpha, Blake Sinclair. It was his twin brother, Leo Sinclair. Leo realized I had recognized him, and dropped the act. "Luna, my brother had something more important to deal with, so I'm standing in for him to go through the motions." What could possibly be more important than the Moon Goddess Ceremony of the Silver Moon Pack? A few sharp-eyed pack members whispered among themselves, "The Alpha actually sent Leo to perform the ceremony?" "Because Iris is back with the pack. The Alpha rushed off to welcome her." To welcome Iris?! So this was what mattered more to Blake than our Moon Goddess Ceremony. I swallowed my anger and typed out a message. Selena: Owen, that marriage arrangement. I accept.

At the Alpha Academy entrance ceremony, Kane Jett abruptly shot to his feet, pointed straight at Kyle Jett, and snarled, "He's not my kid. He has no right to study here!" He flung the paternity test report into the air. Right on cue, Lissa Mae walked out with her son, spilling perfectly timed crocodile tears. "I'm sorry, Vesper Elara. Alpha Academy only recognizes Alpha bloodlines. We just don't want the bloodline to be tainted..." I was just about to speak up and explain when Rook Hagen smacked me so hard across the face my ears rang. He spat that I'd dragged the entire tribe's name through the mud and ordered me to shut my mouth. After that day, her son became the rightful, recognized heir. Kyle? He was labeled a bastard, a worthless outcast. I refused to swallow this injustice. I was determined to track down Kane and demand a second paternity test. But before I could go through with it, I caught a conversation between him and Bram Cole. "You faked the paternity test and called Vesper a slut just to get Lissa's son into Alpha Academy. Aren't you scared they'll leave you?" "Scared? Where the hell would they go without me?" "Lissa was pregnant when we broke up all those years ago. I can't let her suffer any more hardship. Vesper's enjoyed the glory of being Luna for years. It's high time she stepped aside." "Once they hand over that Alpha Academy spot, Rook will, of course, make it public that the paternity test was fake." It all hit me at once. Every last second of that public trainwreck had been rehearsed down to the smallest detail. Even my own flesh-and-blood brother had gotten a copy of the script ahead of time. I thought back to Kyle, eyes swimming with tears, asking me if he'd done something wrong. I bit down so hard on my lip that the metallic, salty tang of blood flooded my mouth. A week later, Kane publicly and formally dissolved our partner bond. "Once Lissa's kid gets into Alpha Academy, I'll take you back, I promise," he said. I didn't so much as spare him a glance. I turned on my heel, linked arms with his worst enemy, and marched straight back into the Alpha Council building—to lock in our new mate bond.

Our engagement party had been underway for 2 hours when my fiancé, Ethan Reed, finally arrived with my supposed "twin sister", Vanessa Foster. I never got an explanation. Instead, I saw my custom engagement ring stuck tight on Vanessa's swollen ring finger.   "Clara, I'm sorry." She cowered in Ethan's arms, tears streaming down her face. "I only wanted to check the size for you. I didn't expect it to get stuck."   Ethan cradled her injured hand carefully, then turned on me. "Aren't your fingers about the same size? How did the ring get stuck? She needs her hands to play the piano. What if her finger is permanently damaged?"   Diane Brooks, the woman I had called Mom for 22 years, burst into tears and tried to rush Vanessa to the hospital. Robert Foster and Ethan's parents crowded around her too, fussing as if I were the one who had ruined the party.   Watching that happy little family rally around her, I suddenly laughed. I picked up the wedding-fund debit card with its balance of 300,000 dollars, snapped it in half in front of everyone, and dropped the pieces onto a side plate.   "Cut off the ring. The engagement is over."   I pulled out a tissue and slowly wiped my fingers clean.   "Ethan's damaged goods now. I'll find a man with a clean romantic history."

I often send tips to a pair of popular werewolf couple influencers online, and I'm a huge, loyal fan of theirs. The owners of the account never show their faces, but they post snippets of their daily life together every day. They're childhood sweethearts who've been together for eight years. They shift into their wolf forms together, rent out entire theaters for midnight movie screenings, and cook meals together... They even fight over who loves the other more. I am deeply moved by their story, and I've been rooting for them to get their happy ending and tie the knot soon. That all changed on the day of my eighth wedding anniversary with my husband, Charles Campbell, when the couple's account posted an update: We truly love each other, but I can never be his spouse. The blue watch in the corner of the photo was so familiar to me—I realized it was the anniversary gift I had bought for Charles this past week.

Gery, the Alpha of the Thorn Pack, had noticed that I hadn't reached out to him for the past four days. He thought I'd finally learned to wait in silence. So he decided to come home. I didn't stand at the door to greet him like I used to. After he walked in, he sat down on the sofa. Though he found my behavior somewhat unusual today, he was clearly pleased with my quietness. "Good. You've finally learned to wait." His tone sounded like he was granting me a favor. "I've already signed off on the special medication application for your grandmother. I know you omegas lack a proper upbringing and discipline. But if you're going to be my Luna, you need to learn patience and know the rules." I didn't answer. I just looked at him silently. Everyone in the pack said I'd hit the jackpot. I was about to become Gery's Luna. But no one knew I'd been his fiancée for four years now. I'd never even set foot in his office. Every decision, every single dollar, had to go through his senior assistant, Daicy, for approval, before eventually being presented to him. Four days ago, my grandmother's condition took a turn for the worse. I filed an emergency application for the medication, but Daicy deliberately stalled the approval. My grandmother died on that hospital bed. I said flatly, "Gery, let's break up." Now that my grandmother was gone, I had no desire to be Gery's Luna. There was no reason for me to stay.

My husband's best friend was a woman. The two of them treated each other like lifelong buddies, and they were both obsessed with fishing.   Meanwhile, I did every chore at home and paid for all their fishing gear.   When I was eight months pregnant, I fell at home and called my husband for help.   Instead, I heard his best friend shouting excitedly in the background.   "Get the landing net! This one's definitely a record breaker!"   Gritting my teeth against the pain, I forced out, "Daniel, I fell. I'm bleeding a lot. Please come home and take me to the hospital..."   "Can you stop overreacting to everything?" Daniel Mercer cut me off impatiently. "Don't you know we're in the middle of a competition? We've been working this spot for three days. If I leave now, all the bait we've put down will be wasted!"   Chloe Dawson spoke beside him. "Emily might really be sick. You should go back. I can land the fish myself."   "No. You can't handle it alone," Daniel said firmly. "Call 911 and get yourself to the hospital. Stop calling me. You're scaring the fish away."   He hung up.   I stared at the blood beneath me and gripped my phone until my knuckles hurt.   So in their eyes, my baby's life and mine weren't worth as much as one fish.   I called 911.   Then I sent my lawyer a message.   Emily: Start the asset division. I want a divorce.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I was hosting my daughter Mia's tenth birthday party. As soon as we arrived at the venue, Mia pointed at the wolf pup playing piano on stage and said, beaming, "Look, Mommy! My little brother's gotten taller." I laughed. That pup's mother was a Hollywood starlet, an A-list she-wolf. My Alpha husband, Lawson, had spent millions to book the mother-son duo as the opening act. Where had Mia picked up such a ridiculous idea? I smiled and ruffled her hair. "Want a little brother? Mommy can give you one." Mia swatted my hand away, irritated. "He is my little brother." Then she turned her head, her eyes dropping coldly to my stomach. "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?"

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?"

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.

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.

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. He continued. Liam Hale: 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. A: Damn, Alpha, you really went all in on this. I bet when Ivy finds out she'll be gritting her teeth fighting back tears. B: 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. Caption: Shout out 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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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."

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.