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 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!"

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."

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?

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.