Ever since Serena Wilson saw her husband, Daniel Johnson, sleeping with another woman six months ago, Serena had developed severe mysophobia. Even the slightest touch from him made her sick to her stomach! From that day on, their spacious room became nothing more than a prison. Over the past six months, to accommodate her condition, Daniel had to disinfect everything he touched. Even in bed, he had to wear three condoms and could never exceed a strict time limit. The moment he went over, Serena would feel nauseous and, without a second thought, throw him out. However, Daniel never complained. "Serena, I was in the wrong. I will make it up to you, I promise..." Half a year passed peacefully. Just when Serena believed her condition was easing, and she was ready to truly reconcile with Daniel, she overheard his muted complaints coming from the study. "You have no idea what this is like. I have to wear gloves just to hand her a piece of fruit, and if I so much as touch the sofa, she makes me wipe it down with disinfectant three times. I'm sick of this, I mean it."

I had accompanied my husband from the ground up, been the boss's wife for ten years. But he had never taken me to the company annual party, not once. This year, the party was at a five-star hotel. I begged and pleaded to go. He didn't even look up as he put on his shoes. "You're the boss's wife," he said, "the employees would feel uncomfortable." Right before he left, he hurriedly gave me a peck. "Be good," he said, "Once this busy period is over, I'll take you and Annie to Sea City." The door clicked shut. I stayed home surrounded by scattered LEGO and picture books, my chest tight with anxiety. My three-year-old daughter suddenly ran over holding a black phone. "Mommy!" she said, "Daddy forgot his phone!" I was stunned. This wasn't the phone he usually used. The moment my fingertip touched the screen, an INS preview popped up. Ada: Honey, I've picked out my gown for the annual party. Twenty-eight thousand. Waiting for you to pay.

The other day, I accidentally clicked into some shady websites, and a short video popped up. But what I never saw coming was that the person in that video was actually my husband!

Eight years after their divorce, Emily Johnson saw her ex-husband again at the airport. If she remembered correctly, today was the day of his engagement. Liam Carter had a cigarette clamped between his lips, the smoke he exhaled drifting through the air. He wore a dark burgundy suit today, and the iris embroidered with gold thread on his chest shimmered in the sunlight. In her memory, his wardrobe had never had anything but black suits. "Get in the car." That familiar voice washed over her, and for a moment, she was transported back to the old days. The car cruised smoothly toward the Carter family estate.  The two of them didn't exchange a single word the whole ride. Finally, Liam spoke first. "My mom told me to come pick you up. Don't get the wrong idea." Emily nodded. "I know." Liam furrowed his brow slightly, as if dissatisfied with her answer. "How have you been all these years abroad?" Emily answered him just as coolly and calmly, "Not bad." His searching gaze locked onto her. After a long moment, he spoke in a low, deep voice. "Emily, don't you think coming back now is too late?"

Annie Green had her admission to Moon Academy, the school she had longed for, revoked on the grounds of "infidelity during marriage." And the so-called evidence was a photo of her kissing her husband, David Brown. She called David frantically ninety-nine times, but no one answered. She searched everywhere he might be. Finally, outside a bar, she heard him share the "truth" about their ten-year relationship with his entire friend circle. Amid the noisy background, someone laughed and asked loudly, "David, what's the secret to keeping the spark alive in marriage?" David lounged in the shadow of a booth, a cynical smile on his lips that Annie had never seen before. "The secret?" He scoffed. "When the person in bed with you is someone else's wife— isn't that thrill enough?"

Everyone in Brackenford's elite inner circle knew it. Damon Winters and I were the city's most notoriously unhinged power couple. One was ruthless. The other was unhinged. Anyone I got sick of, he crushed with his own two hands. If anyone so much as touched a single hair on my head, he would bet his entire life on the line. I always swore we were fated to be tied together for life: sleep side by side in life, rest in the same grave in death. That was before Elise Hayes, that "mute" florist girl, slipped into our tight, locked-down world like an unexpected gust of wind, quiet and uninvited. She never fought for anything, never pushed for what she wanted. But every time Damon finished clearing away an obstacle for me, she would hand him a bouquet of roses she had arranged herself and flash him that soft, gentle smile. Little by little, that was all it took. Damon fell hard, completely and irreversibly. When I got the tenth photo of the two of them kissing, I did not throw things or blow up like I normally would. I just had my people "invite" Elise over to the villa.

Sabrina Fry was known as a woman who hated the rich. Five years ago, she was selling liquor at a private club when a bloated, greasy customer started harassing her. He threw several stacks of cash onto the floor and told her that if she got down on her knees and picked them up with her mouth, he would buy every bottle she had. Sabrina refused to bend. She grabbed a bottle and smashed it over his head. Amid the startled screams, she tightened her grip around the jagged half of the bottle and pressed it against his neck. Her voice was cold as ice. "You think money can buy anything? Then why don't we test that theory and see if it can buy your life back?" That scene happened to be witnessed clearly by John Hayes, who was in the private room next door.

Arthur Vance's family had an ancestral rule: men who were unfaithful would be subjected to family discipline. On their fifth wedding anniversary, Arthur knelt in front of everyone and pleaded, "Violet, let's get a divorce." It was all because his first love, Vivian Lane, had returned from abroad in a miserable state—and had lost her memory. He took off his wedding ring, his eyes full of pain. "Vivian's family fell into decline, and she suffered a mental breakdown and amnesia. She thinks I'm still waiting for her..." I held our son and asked him, "Arthur, between her and me, who do you choose?" He fell silent for a long time before finally speaking. "Vivian has already had a very hard time. Can't you be a little more understanding? Don't force me to make a choice... "How about this? Let's do a fake divorce. You and Leo move out for a while, okay?" Looking out at the falling snow, I remembered the moment he had placed the ring on my finger—that was our beginning. Now, on another snowy day, he was asking for a divorce for someone else. "No need for a fake divorce. I'll grant your wish." I signed the divorce agreement without hesitation.

Everyone in my family could see the countdown over my brother's life. Everyone knew he would die on his sixteenth birthday. So he became the most important person in the house. The best food was always his. The newest limited-edition sneakers were his. Even the time our parents spent sitting at the edge of the bed before lights out, talking and reading, that was his too. I felt sorry for him, but I also envied him for having all of their attention. When his sixteenth birthday finally came, my parents were afraid I'd cause trouble, so they locked me in the storage room even though I was burning up with a fever. I pounded on the door, my voice weak and unsteady. "Mom, can you let me out? I have a fever, my head really hurts." Her voice came back, tense and impatient. "That's enough. Your brother only has today. After tonight, he's gone. Can't you just deal with it?" "But I feel awful…" Gradually, everything outside went quiet, and my thoughts started to blur as my body grew heavier and heavier.

Claire Jones stared at the pregnancy test report, dazed. She was pregnant. "Was I too rough last night?" That familiar voice drifted from not far away. She dazedly turned toward the sound and looked—it was Steven Lawson, her husband. Beneath the stark white fluorescent lamp, Steven stood tall and straight, his arm linked with a strange woman. In an instant, all the blood in her body ran cold, and her entire body felt frozen. "No, it's not your fault." The woman's voice was soft as cotton, light as air, her cheeks lightly flushed, and the dimples on her cheeks were blindingly jarring. "But maybe be a little gentler next time, okay? It really hurt." Crunch, crunch— Claire crumpled the pregnancy test report into creases. Last night, Steven had told her he was swamped with work and would stay overnight at the law firm. She drew a sharp, cold breath, turned, and walked toward the gynecology registration desk. "Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?" the doctor asked in a calm, serious tone. "Yes," Claire replied quietly, without the slightest hesitation.

After several rounds of chemotherapy and surgery, Lydia had finally beaten cancer. Her phone rang; it was her husband, Shawn. Today wasn't just the day she had overcome the disease; it also marked the third anniversary of Shawn returning to the family after his affair.  "How did the checkup go?" Shawn's voice was tense over the phone. For the past three years, he had cared for her obsessively, far more than when they first married.  "The results are good," Lydia said evenly, scanning the report without emotion.  "So it's really over? Don't move; I'll come pick you up."  Before Lydia could respond, she heard the sound of Shawn rushing out of his office.  Fifteen minutes later, he appeared outside the hospital. He ran toward her, his excitement barely contained, and pulled her into his arms.  "My love, do you know how long I've been waiting for this day?"  But Lydia remained cool and distant, completely unmoved by his excitement.

On the very first day Emily regained her sight, she immediately hopped online to look for ways to surprise her husband. Instead, a viral post caught her eye. "What is it like to sleep with a blind girl?" Her fingers froze over the keyboard. Driven by a dark, inexplicable urge, she clicked on it. "An answer from someone with firsthand experience: Her eyes are completely blank, but her body is incredibly honest. When she wants to please you, she has absolutely no sense of direction, leaving her completely at your mercy. She is like a living sex toy, but honestly, it is so much more thrilling." Scrolling past a few empty lines, a series of explicit, intimate photos loaded on the screen. The next second, Emily's hand clenched into a tight fist. Her lips trembled violently as she stared at the screen, utterly paralyzed by the horrifying truth. The woman in those photos was her. The camera had been positioned directly overhead, capturing her lying across a massive bed. Her face was flushed, her pale skin covered in glaring red hickeys, exposing every single inch of her body to the high-definition lens. "This can't be happening. How is this possible?"

I was taking my five-year-old daughter for a routine checkup when I noticed something extra on the form: a kidney function test. "That's a standard requirement for kidney donor screening," the nurse said. "Didn't you know?" My five-year-old daughter and I stared at each other. That test was never on our appointment. I asked if there'd been some mistake. The nurse checked the form carefully and said with complete certainty. "No mistake. The appointment was booked by a Mr. Nathan Bailey. He specifically added this." Nathan Bailey is my husband. My eye snagged on a second form, half-hidden beneath the first. Diagnosis: Polycystic kidney disease. Patient: Phoebe Bailey. Next of kin signature: Nathan Bailey. I called him immediately. "Honey, the nurse says you scheduled kidney donor matching for our daughter. What's going on?" He paused for three full seconds. "The nurse must have mixed something up. I'm swamped right now. Don't call me unless it's urgent." I smiled. Then I turned back to the nurse. "Which room is that girl in?"

I had always been a gold digger. After being transmigrated into the role of the billionaire's stand-in his first love, I raked in three hundred million in one year and was happily counting the zeros on my phone. Suddenly, a flood of bullet comments floated before my eyes. A: [Alert! The ex is back in town. The stand-in girlfriend never survives this kind of story.] B: [Classic trainwreck romance setup. The rebound usually gets dumped by episode three.] C: [Take my advice! Fake your death and run! Otherwise, the billionaire will break your legs and lock you in a dark room!] D: [Plot death is unavoidable. Just wait for your doom...] Three hundred million suddenly didn't seem so appealing. Before I could figure out how to fake my death, I was forcibly dragged to the welcome party for the first love, Annie Green. She smiled with fake kindness, raised her hand, and fastened a diamond-studded choker around my neck. "Miss Brown, I heard you love money. My dog got a new collar, so I'm giving you this old one." The bullet comments exploded. A: [Throw it away! It's radioactive! Wear it and you die!] B: [Don't touch it! Next episode will be your funeral!] Oh? Then I think I know how to fake my death!

The day Yara Wren decided to file for divorce, her husband was at a gala with his mistress. "All the paperwork can be finalized within two weeks," the divorce attorney promised. Yara glanced at the calendar. Then a ringtone cut through her thoughts — her old phone, the one she hadn't touched in ten years, was ringing. "Yara, meet me at The Blue Lagoon tonight at eight." Her husband's voice came through the line. But something was different — lighter than usual, stripped of its familiar coldness, almost bright. Shock flickered through her eyes. She had heard those exact words before. Ten years ago. The night Ethan Ross made his grand, sweeping confession of love. She looked at the calendar again and asked carefully, "Ethan — what's today's date on your end?" "Yara, it's October 15, 2015. My birthday. Don't tell me you forgot?" Her heart lurched. The man on the other end of the line was twenty-year-old Ethan!

The night I slept with a drunk Isabelle Moore, she had just broken up with her ex-boyfriend. She had no choice but to marry me. Our marriage was calm and steady, and I thought it would last forever. The peace lasted until her ex-boyfriend passed away from illness. When she went to pay her respects, she learned the truth: he had discovered what had happened between us that night, and that was why he had left, completely heartbroken. And it was precisely at this time that she found my secret diary of unrequited love. Convinced I'd deliberately ruined everything between her and Charles, she hated me to the bone. She divorced me, forced me to leave with nothing, and undermined me at every turn. On my deathbed, her cold voice rang in my ears, "Your love makes me sick." When I opened my eyes again, I was back two hours before that fateful night—right after she'd broken up with Charles and gone out drinking to drown her sorrows. I grabbed my coat, rushed out of my room, and knocked on the door of her ex's apartment.

"Natha, are you really planning to end the engagement?" Logan Stewart's voice over the phone was thick with incredulity. "Your engagement was a commitment Hunter earned after he spent three relentless days and nights begging in the rain. Only then did I finally concede." Natalie Stewart stood by the expansive window, her gaze absorbing the glittering cityscape of Royalton. The neon reflections danced in her eyes, yet she remained unshaken. "He was unfaithful." Those words brought Logan to an abrupt silence. Following a pause, Logan finally released a deep sigh. "Have you considered all the implications?" "Absolutely," Natalie said with certainty as she headed to her study and powered up her laptop. "I've already set my lawyer to work on annulling the engagement. I need you to manage the situation with the Quinn family." "Grandpa, I believe you're coming back to the country in a week, correct?" She calmly scrolled through her phone's photo backups. "I'll gather all necessary evidence and documents by then. When we meet the Quinns, I want everything to be straightforward, no messy ties."

It was her fifth wedding anniversary, and Evelyn found a fresh scratch on her car in the parking lot. She’d only meant to pull up the dash cam footage to see what had happened. Instead, she got a total shock. Her husband Leo's voice came through, clear as day. His voice was clear, calm, but every word cut straight into her like a knife. "I never loved Evelyn. I married her just because she was the right fit for a wife." "Chloe, you were my first love. You were the only one I ever loved, and you always will be." Every drop of blood in Evelyn's body froze solid instantly. Right after that, a soft, smiling female voice drifted through the speaker: "I'm already divorced, for crying out loud. She’s a top university professor. What makes you say you love me, Leo?" "Evelyn is too dull and plain. She can never be as lively and alluring as you. How could she ever compare?" Leo declared sharply and unflinchingly, oozing with obvious favoritism, "She can't hold a candle to you."

I had once thought that marrying Vincent Reed was the luckiest break of my life. Yet, on the fateful day of my cancer diagnosis, I saw him gently supporting his beloved as they emerged from the hospital, shooting me a look as cold as ice. After my death, he found out that the heart beating in his cherished one's chest was mine. In the end, it drove him to madness.

Right in the middle of my wedding dress fitting, I discovered that my boyfriend of three years had cheated on me!

When her fiancé, who faked his death two years ago for his other woman, came back, the very first thing he did was propose to Nova Hayes all over again. Silas Reed said, "Nova, these two years of waiting for me must have been so hard on you, right? Back then, Elara Wren was all alone. She could not make it without me. I had no choice but to fake my death and leave with her. Now the heat has died down. As long as you stop messing with her, I will still let you be my wife." Nova stared at Silas pulling out an engagement ring, but she did not say a word. It was common knowledge that two whole years could change a great many things. For one thing, she was already married with two kids, a boy and a girl, to complete her family.

When the mob boss set his sights on her twin sister, the sister who already had the love of her life dropped to her knees in tears and begged. "Please, Renata... help me." And just like that, Renata Stone took her sister's place and became Douglas Warren's kept woman. Three years later, the sister who had disappeared without a trace suddenly came back, accusing Renata of stealing her identity. Furious, Douglas locked her in a basement for three days and three nights. Renata never defended herself, never cried or made a scene. The first thing she did after walking out was schedule an abortion. Then she signed the papers refusing treatment. No one knew that the brain cancer eating away at her had already reached its final stage.

Debby Olson was the dream girl at Minton University. Every guy on campus had a crush on her, and the entire Olson family treated her like a princess. But out of everyone she could've picked, she fell for Ethan Warren. At the freshman opening ceremony, Ethan stood quietly in the crowd wearing a faded white shirt that had clearly been washed too many times. Still, nothing could hide the cold elegance around him. One glance was enough. Debby wanted him. And ever since she was little, she'd never failed to get what she wanted. The very next day, Debby blocked Ethan outside the lecture hall in front of half the campus and shoved a pink, scented love letter into his hand. Smiling brightly, full of confidence, she introduced herself. "Ethan, I'm Debby Olson. Date me." Ethan didn't even bother looking down at the letter. His eyes swept lazily across her gorgeous face, calm and distant. "Not interested." Then he walked right past her. The entire hallway went silent. People stared in shock, some even gasped under their breath. For the first time in her life, Debby was rejected.

"I agree to the arranged marriage." Diana Lynn's red lips curved into a smile. "I'll help you break into the Northgate market. You help me secure the Lynn inheritance." The man on the other end of the line gave a soft laugh. "Miss Lynn, you really are a smart woman." "Although…" His tone shifted. "I hear you've been supporting some broke student in Northgate—went out of your way to make him one of the top lawyers in the city…" "Don't worry." Diana cut him off. "He was just a toy I kept around when I was bored. He won't get in the way of our business. Seven days from now, I'll fly to Harbortown and marry you!" The moment she hung up, the door behind her opened. Diana turned around to find Ethan Cross walking toward her. He set a bank card down on the table and slid it across. "Miss Lynn. There's one million dollars on that card. "I know. Compared to everything you've spent on me over the years, this doesn't even cover the interest. "But you can't force feelings. I'll pay back everything I owe you as soon as I can. And I'm asking you to… let Sophie and me be together."

Vivian Hale and Silas Payne were once the most eye-catching couple on campus. She was the bold and dazzling campus beauty—the red rose carefully cherished and doted on by the young heir to the underworld. For her sake, Silas resolved to wash his hands clean of all shady dealings, vowing to let his rose bloom on clean soil. Yet right when he was on the verge of making it happen, all he got was a breakup notice. He knelt and begged her for three days and three nights straight, even collapsing unconscious in the pouring rain, but Vivian never so much as glanced his way. Three years later, Vivian reappeared out of the blue. She picked up the love she had once thrown away and willingly became his secret lover, hidden from the public eye.

At 6 p.m., Lucien Hawthorn returned home on schedule and went into the study to handle affairs for the military district. At 8 p.m. sharp, he made a call on the dedicated landline, sending routine regards to Port Haven Refugee Zone. At 10 p.m., after soothing two stray cats and dogs, he returned to his room, leaving Aurelia Vale with only his receding figure. Aurelia had lived like this in the military compound for a full five years. At this moment, she sat alone in the study, fingertips brushing a thick Russian dictionary. Between its pages were several sheets of draft paper—her application for advanced study, written in Russian. For the past half month, every night after Lucien fell asleep, she slipped into the study and, under the dim glow of the desk lamp, repeatedly refined her application materials, all for a chance at the only overseas art training slot offered this year by the Crownia Embassy in Masford Art Institute. That was the dream she had cherished for eighteen years—and one she had once given up for Lucien.

In the fourth month of her pregnancy, Linda Queen discovered a suicide note written by her husband to her best friend. The date of receipt was three days away, the day David Brown would lead his team deep into the border area to eliminate bandits. Lucy, if this letter reaches you, then I have already passed away. Do not grieve. And Linda's pregnancy wasn't an accident. I set the whole thing up. Once she's out on leave, the chief position in the department will open up next year, and it'll finally be yours. Linda's fingers began to tremble. A tightening pain shot through her pregnant belly. She frantically continued flipping through the pages. "Back then, when you and Linda were both competing for the remaining spot to stay, I deliberately pursued her to make her stay for me, thereby leaving the opportunity to you. "These three years of marriage have been my compensation to her. But the person I love has always been you. "All of my assets are now yours. If Linda asks, tell her this: I married her only out of duty, never out of love." Linda turned page after page, her fingertips growing cold. That suicide note tore apart everything she'd once believed was happiness.

My best friend loved me deeply that she wore the silk pajamas I'd bought her as a birthday gift while sleeping with my husband in our bed. When it was over, she sent me a shared clip. Vanessa: Good, right? I didn't reply. I watched the masterpiece from start to finish, then turned around and sold it to TrashHub for two hundred dollars. Why keep the fun to myself? I switched on airplane mode and headed into the mountains with my colleagues to collect field data. A week later, the moment I turned off airplane mode, countless messages flooded my phone. Then came a call from Vanessa. Her voice was filled with urgency. "I'm begging you. Delete that video right now!"

Valeria Winslow was the most vibrant and uninhibited flower in Fort Radcliff. To put it nicely, she was bold and straightforward; to put it bluntly, she was spoiled and willful. From childhood to adulthood, she had never failed to get anything she set her eyes on. That was until she met Dominic Langston. Her twenty years of smooth sailing finally hit a rocky patch in the name of love, and she began to chase after him with passionate intensity. The first time, she blocked Dominic's car and shoved a note with her phone number through his window. Dominic didn't even glance at it before rolling up the window and driving away. The second time, Valeria snatched the combat plan he was supposed to submit and locked it in her drawer. "Agree to go on a date with me, and I'll give it back," she said, crossing her legs and jingling the keys in her hand. Dominic simply broke her drawer open, grabbed the document, and left with a flat remark. "Childish." The third time, Dominic sprained his ankle during a field training exercise. Valeria drove for three consecutive hours through the night, carried him down the mountain on her back, and dumped him onto a hospital bed.

During the first year of my marriage, I was assaulted by my husband's mentally unstable ex-wife thirty-eight times. This time, she even dumped a bottle of vinegar all over me, thinking it was acid. When I wanted to call the police, my husband stopped me. "Serena's condition flared up again," he said. "She still thinks we're married. Besides, it wasn't real acid, so don't blow this out of proportion." Then he added, "Leo still hasn't accepted you either. I'm going to stay with them for a while, just until things calm down. Can you bear with it a little longer?" I stared at him in disbelief. From the moment this crisis negotiator pulled me out of that hostage situation to the day we got married, I truly believed we had saved each other. But it turned out he had never let go of his ex-wife. Clutching the pregnancy test results in my hand, I let out a quiet laugh. Then I turned around and scheduled an abortion procedure. "If that's the case," I said softly, "then let's get divorced."

Everyone in the family could see the countdown hanging over my sister's head. We all knew she was going to die the moment she turned sixteen. After that, Stella became the center of everyone's world. The best food was hers. The only new dress was hers. Even the bedtime stories Mom and Dad used to tell belonged only to her. I felt sorry for her. But I was jealous, too. Jealous that every ounce of love in this family had been saved for her. Then, on the day before my sister's sixteenth birthday, Mom and Dad locked me in the storage room because they were afraid I would cause trouble. I pounded desperately on the wooden door. "Mom, let me out. I have a fever. My head hurts so much…" But Mom didn't believe me. "Enough! Your sister only has one day left to live, and you're still pretending to be sick for attention? Can't you be sensible for once?" "No, I'm not…" I tried to explain. But all I heard was my parents comforting my sister on the other side of the door. Then, at last, everything outside went quiet. And my consciousness slowly began to fade...

All because I questioned why they refused to send the fake daughter back to her real family, my mother had me taken away for human AI modification.  After the chip was implanted, I became the perfect obedient daughter. Whatever command she gave, my body would obey instinctively, beyond my control.  One day, I secretly followed her and Chloe to a banquet and overheard her chatting with a group of wealthy socialites.  "I had no choice. Ever since that girl came back, she's been targeting Chloe nonstop, always insisting Chloe doesn't belong to this family. "I was worried she might do something extreme. Sending her for modification was the only way to make her behave. In the end, it was for her own good."  At that moment, the control tablet in her hand suddenly vibrated. The screen showed that I was no longer at home. Her expression instantly darkened. Without hesitation, she typed out a command.  Mom: Return home immediately. Stand there and don't go anywhere until I'm back. The next second, my body completely lost control. I turned and sprinted outside like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. A speeding car slammed into me hard enough to throw me across the street, yet somehow I still staggered back to my feet and kept running.  Blood streamed down my legs with every step as I muttered over and over in a trembling voice, "I'm sorry, Mom… I'm going home right now…"  That night, when my mother finally returned home, she found me standing in the corner with my head lowered.

I was sprawled lazily against my personal trainer's perfectly sculpted abs, absentmindedly scrolling through social media, when a post tagged at my villa suddenly caught my attention.  Wendy: Guys, I accidentally ruined the lady's custom haute couture dress. I'm only a maid. There's no way I could ever afford to pay her back! I refuse to bow to money. I'd rather die than beg her for forgiveness.  The account belonged to "WannieOnTheGrind." In other words, she was my marriage-of-convenience husband's little mistress.  The top comments underneath were already exploding.  A: [If I see one more fake innocent-girl fantasy post like this, I'm moving into that villa district immediately.]  B: [Girl, even if you worked as a maid for your entire life, you still couldn't afford that dress LOL.]  And right beneath them, she replied sweetly.  Wendy: My boss knew my dignity had been hurt, and he felt awful for me. He stayed up comforting me all night and told me not to worry about the compensation.  Wendy: He's really different from other rich people. He's the only person who truly understands how hard life is for someone like me.  I couldn't help laughing. Then, without the slightest hesitation, I forwarded the entire post straight into my private group chat, "The Harem."  Claire: Whoever manages to crash Goodwin Group's stock by five points today gets to replace my useless husband.

On the day they are about to sign their marriage license, Matthew Walsh has just slid the document across the desk to Dakota Carter when her phone starts ringing. She picks it up, and within a few seconds, every trace of a smile on her face vanishes as if it had never been there. After hanging up, Dakota grabs Matthew's hand and says, sounding genuinely sorry, "Matt, wait for me. This time, I swear I will find whoever killed our parents and make them pay with their blood." He watches her hurry away, never imagining that what comes next will be her supervisor showing up at his door three months later. The man, Captain Morgan Walker, brings a death gratuity check and the kind of news no one ever wants to hear. His voice catches as he says, "Mr. Walsh, Dakota is ambushed while on a mission. Her body... is never recovered." He hands over the official death notice, and there is her photo, still wearing that bright, confident smile from when she first started the job. From that day on, Matthew's world completely falls apart. He sinks into severe depression until one morning, after he slits his wrist again and is drifting in and out of consciousness, a familiar figure suddenly flashes across the TV screen. It is a news segment about a romantic event for 100 couples, and as the camera sweeps through the crowd, there she is, Dakota, casually tucking a bit of stray hair behind some guy's ear.

Ethan Chase was nothing but a little beggar boy when Mindy Sterling saved him from a pack of stray dogs. While other boys his age were chasing girls and skateboarding, he was already busting open human trafficking rings with a blade in hand, becoming the untouchable "Lone Wolf" of Shamanya. But even the wildest wolf had been tamed by Mindy. During their senior year of high school, when Mindy was trapped in an abandoned warehouse by her rivals, Ethan literally flipped his desk in the middle of the exam and stormed in single-handedly to save her. The very next day, she dragged him to City Hall to get married. From then on, she showered him with luxury cars, jewelry, mansions, and trust funds, spoiling the lone wolf into a devoted puppy who only had eyes for her. Ethan truly believed they would spend the rest of their lives together. That was until the day he scrolled through his best buddy Julian White's Instagram. Ethan could recognize the woman's silhouette in the photo with his eyes closed. But it was the caption below that hit him like a physical blow: Waiting for my goddess to propose!

When Adele Sanchez's husband's intellectually disabled childhood sweetheart was misbehaving in the hospital, she accidentally pulled the oxygen tube out of Adele's son to use it for cat's cradle. Her son, Charlie Sanchez, immediately suffered hypoxia and went into shock and was rushed to the ER, his life hanging by a thread. Adele immediately called the police and pressed charges, only to be accused of spreading rumors and defamation and detained for ten days. Adele's husband, Xavier Sanchez, who held unchecked power in the medical community, merely looked at her coldly and said, "Dora Clark has the mental capacity of a three-year-old child. She doesn't know anything. Why are you so unforgiving toward her?" Adele's older brother, Henry Lambert, a criminal investigator, even personally put handcuffs on her and said, "Dora saved my life once. She really can't tell an oxygen tube from a string. Why do you always bully such an innocent girl?" Adele stared at the closest, most beloved people in her life, and her heart turned icy cold.

Aurora and Sebastian attempted to hold their wedding three times. Each time, they became the laughingstock of the entire city. The first time, they were halfway through their vows when Valentina burst in with a sledgehammer. She smashed everything in sight. The second time, as the emcee announced their entrance, the screen behind them suddenly filled with intimate photos of Sebastian and Valentina. The third time, Sebastian suddenly received a video call from Valentina. "Sebastian, if I jump from here, our past debts will be settled. Okay?" Sebastian sneered. "If you're going to jump, do it quickly. I have a wedding to get to." But just as they stood at the altar, someone in the crowd cried out, "Valentina really jumped into the sea!" The words "I do" stuck in Sebastian's throat. He finally gave her a deep look and said, "No matter what, it's a human life. Aurora, let's postpone the wedding." The moment he finished speaking, he turned and left. Aurora collapsed to the floor, her strength gone. "No need to postpone. I... I'm not marrying him!"

On their fifth wedding anniversary, Juliet Graves leads a group of people to wreck the bar run by Margot Pierce, Felix Frost's mistress. Word of the chaos reaches Felix in no time, and he rushes over in a great hurry. Gone are his usual soft words and gentle coaxing towards her. Instead, he pulls out a brand-new divorce papers without hesitation. He speaks in a calm, unyielding tone, "Sign this, Juliet. Margot will turn thirty-three next week, and I promised to marry her before she hits that age. You've ruined her place so many times already. You've surely let all your anger out by now." Juliet tears the document into shreds right on the spot, her eyes blazing with unbridled fury as she spits out harsh words. "Not a chance in hell. If I'm doomed to live in misery, none of you will get to live a peaceful life either," she retorts. Ten whole years Felix has spent courting Juliet with all his heart, yet within just five years of marriage, he has been cheating on her with Margot, a woman five years his senior, for three full years straight. The ridiculous root cause of this betrayal is nothing more than a simple lemonade the woman once made for him. Juliet can never wrap her head around the truth. 'How have I lost my husband to a mere bar hostess, all because of a plain drink?' She grabs a glass wine bottle sitting nearby and swings it hard, smashing it straight against Felix's head. "I'd rather die than apologize! You splurged our marital joint assets to fund this woman's business, and now you dare demand I say sorry to her? Mark my words. No matter what she does, I will destroy everything she owns every single time I lay eyes on her!" Juliet shouts.

After Elizabeth Cabot's husband, Edgar Bullock, got into a fight with his childhood friend, Judith Davies, Judith got so angry that she auctioned herself off at a nightclub. Starting bid was one dollar; final sale was eighty bucks. Edgar showed up with bloodshot eyes, his voice shaking. "You just wanted me to feel bad for you, didn't you? Fine, you win this round." With that, he grabbed Judith's arm to leave—but the buyer stepped in. "Rules are rules. No breaking them." Edgar turned to Elizabeth. "Babe, can you go and keep our guests company for a bit in Judith's place? Just a few drinks. She's not in a good place right now." Then he shoved the eighty dollars into Elizabeth's hands. She couldn't help but laugh—out of sheer frustration.

Everyone in Jantoria knew the Sawyer family twin brothers had once toyed with an innocent college girl, playing her like a puppet. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday belonged to the younger brother. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday to the older brother. On Sunday, they turned off the lights and had their fun together. When the truth came out, the girl was overwhelmed by scandal. She was dragged through the mud, lost all hope, and left the country with a broken heart. When she returned, Winnie Tanner showed up at the funeral of the brothers' father with a pregnant belly, attending as a famous curator. Under the stunned gazes of the crowd, she placed a bouquet of white roses on the coffin. As she stood up, her cold, composed eyes calmly swept over the two striking men in front of her. Winnie calmly smiled and said, "I am here in place of my unborn child to see his grandfather off."

Everyone in Figinia knew that the Dawson heir had suffered from insomnia since childhood, and Lillian Adkin was nothing more than a human pillow bought to soothe him. For ten whole years, Brandon could only fall asleep while holding her. When they grew up, he even defied all odds to marry her. Yet after their marriage, his mistresses changed one after another. No matter how wildly he played outside, he would always return home on time every night to hold Lillian in his arms as he slept. This deep, lingering entanglement made Brandon Dawson utterly certain that Lillian would never leave him. Until the third year of their marriage, a woman named Emilia Foster appeared. She brought Brandon an unprecedented thrill—so much so that the two of them could indulge in endless passion for three days and nights straight.

I took three bullets to the gut. When I finally came to, I heard Roman Lindsay chuckling from behind the curtain. "Charlotte, I win. Told you—no matter how long it dragged on, Vivian Sunderland would risk her life to come save me." Charlotte Ziegler's voice was syrupy sweet. "Then what about her? You're going to marry me, aren't you?" "She's been with me three years. I'll find a way to compensate her. But as a bodyguard, she's too useful to let go. Guess I'll keep her around..." His voice dripped with desire. Two silhouettes tangled together. Turned out the bullets I'd thrown myself in front of—the ones that nearly killed me—were just part of a bet between him and another woman. Fine. If so, then the killer who was willing to die for him was about to turn her blade around.

After waking up from a car accident, Sienna found herself in the year 2032. Someone else had taken her identity, and even her fiancé had become another woman's husband. "You say your name is Sienna?" the nurse said with a smile. "What a coincidence. The wife of Griffin Gates, president of Gates Group, is also named Sienna." Sienna couldn't believe what she was hearing. She borrowed the nurse's phone and dialed a familiar number. The call connected. Griffin's voice came through. "Who is this?" Sienna's tears broke like a dam. "Griffin... it's me... I was in a car accident. I'm so scared..." A brief silence on the other end. Then two words. "The address." Half an hour later, the hospital room door was pushed open. Griffin walked in with two bodyguards. Seven years had only made him colder and harder. He glanced at Sienna, his gaze full of unfamiliar scrutiny. "You're the one who called?"

Everyone in Crestport knew that Landon Hale loved his wife, Natalie Mercer, more than life itself. He'd walk around with fresh bite marks on his neck, showing them off with shameless pride. "Even the bite marks my Nat leaves are prettier than anything else." He'd hire skywriters to scrawl love notes across Crestport Bay, day after day, for the whole city to see. He'd even slash five percent off a business deal just because a partner remarked, "Mr. Hale must be the most devoted husband alive." So when news came that he'd been kidnapped, Natalie Mercer didn't think twice before leading a team to rescue him. But when she burst through the door, what she found was Landon pinning Fiona Langley beneath him. The woman's eyes glistened with tears, her fingers clutching at Landon's sleeve as she begged for mercy. But Landon only let out a low, hoarse laugh. "Don't run from me, baby." Blood rushed to Natalie's head. She snatched a stun baton from one of her bodyguards and hurled it at the tangled figures on the bed. The baton grazed past Landon's ear and shattered a wine bottle on the nightstand, finally startling the two apart.

There was an unwritten rule in the Havenbrook celebrity circle—whenever Eric Harris flaunted his marriage and topped the trending charts, it meant he had cheated again. At first, Scarlett Harris fought with Eric over it. But the man assumed the problem was that the checks he gave her weren't large enough. He tossed her several more checks worth tens of millions each and said, "You need to understand that sex and love can be separate." Staring at the checks scattered across the floor, Scarlett took no more than three seconds to accept them. Because she knew that the husband who once swore he loved her was long gone. After that, she even came to believe his words. Every time Eric gave her compensation after cheating, she would just go off and have fun with charming men of her own. Older or younger, passionate or playfully aloof, it didn't matter. But she never crossed the line. Everything changed after one night of heavy drinking. When Scarlett woke up, she found a man lying beside her. "Miss, when can I become your official boyfriend?" the man asked.

My adoptive brother, Julian Blake, and I had confessed our feelings to each other. He pulled me into his arms, his voice low and warm against my ear, "Mira, trust me. I'm going to marry you." The next morning, however, my father announced Julian's engagement to Clara West, the West family heiress. And me? I was the price they were willing to pay, married off to the Wests' eldest son like a bargaining chip. I clutched the pregnancy test in my hand and dialed my birth mother's number. "Mom," I said softly. "I'm ready. I'll go abroad with you."

Everyone in Glenford knew the Gambling King had two wives and two daughters. His eldest, Luna Hayes, was Declan Reed's wife. His youngest, Mila Hayes, was Declan's mistress. Born to the first wife, older sister Luna carried herself with effortless elegance and noble grace, soft-spoken and gentle in every way. Even as the Gambling King's eldest daughter, she never so much as dipped a toe into the gritty world of casinos, standing as the golden role model for every socialite in Glenford. Younger sister Mila, on the other hand, was the brightest, most intoxicating red rose blooming right in the heart of the casinos. She inherited her father's legendary gambling talent flawlessly. Her control over a dice cup was nothing short of sorcery—her skill was so legendary it made her famous all across Glenford. In most people's eyes, that stunning, radiant Mila was more like the partner who could stand as an equal beside that devil-may-care new Gambling King. But even so, Declan's heart belonged to Luna—though only Luna herself knew just how absurd and sickening that city-famous love of his really was.

Five years after the divorce, Cathy Collins ran into her ex-husband again at the hospital. He was there with his new wife for a prenatal checkup. She was now the attending OB-GYN. The moment Brian Woods walked into the exam room, he froze. Cathy was stunned for only a second before her expression returned to normal. She gestured for the pregnant woman to lie down on the bed. Cathy had no interest in figuring out what was behind his stare. She had stopped caring about him a long time ago. Looking over the report in her hand, Cathy spoke evenly, "Everything looks normal so far. The pregnancy is confirmed, it's intrauterine, about six weeks along." Relief spread across his wife's face. "That's amazing, Brian. Our baby's healthy." Cathy gave a polite smile. "This is a critical stage, so make sure you're getting balanced nutrition. Also, try to avoid sex and any strenuous activity during the first trimester." Brian's expression tightened for a split second. Instinctively, he blurted out, "I didn't..." Cathy cut him off smoothly. "Any other questions?"

Three years ago, after Mila Smith dumped Jacob Hayes, every girlfriend he dated had a tear-shaped beauty mark at the corner of her eye, just like hers. Everyone sighed over how devoted Mr. Hayes was. They said he would probably never escape the shadow of his first love. That was until half a month ago, when Jacob went public with his new girlfriend and announced their wedding date on the spot. But his new girlfriend had no beauty mark by her eye. In both looks and personality, she was nothing like Mila. On the eve of the wedding, Mila flew back to the country overnight. Everyone knows how these stories go. Once the ex shows up again, the woman standing beside the man never wins. When the rumor reached Jacob, he only replied lazily, "She came back too late. There's no chance for us anymore." Mila merely smiled without a word. Sorry, but she had not come back to steal the groom. She had come back to coax the sweet young man she had upset so badly that he had flown home in a huff.

Faye Hayes was known online as the perfect model of a wealthy, fairy-tale marriage. With millions of followers, every sweet moment she posted was envied by the entire internet. But after the heartbreak of three miscarriages, what she received was a diagnosis of terminal uterine cancer. Then came an even crueler truth. By accident, she discovered the private account her husband, John Ford, had been hiding. Inside were tens of thousands of videos, all carefully documenting another woman and a three-year-old child who called him Daddy. When she broke down and confronted him, John merely deleted the records and changed the password with cold indifference. "I'm just helping someone else take care of him. Pretend you never saw it. "If he's not your son, why does he call you Daddy?" Faye clutched the diagnosis in her hand, her nails digging so hard into her palm they nearly broke the skin. Only then did John finally look at her properly. But the corner of his mouth curved into a mocking smile. "Then give me one yourself, and let him call you Mom."

Everyone in their circle called Faye Luthor a succubus. They said the tiny red mole at the corner of her eye could steal a man's soul, and that a woman like her was born to be cherished in the palms of a man's hands. But no one knew how much she hated the greedy stares this body drew, or how sick she was of predators who dressed their hunger up as "love." Then Lex Lancaster appeared, the cool, restrained golden boy of the business world. When he pursued her, he never so much as touched her fingertips. Once, when she climbed onto his lap, he only held her gently and set her back down. "Be good," he murmured. She drugged his wine. He drank it without a flicker of expression, then said in a low voice, "Love should not be led by desire." She believed him. Until one day, a woman in a red dress pressed the tip of a knife against the corner of her eye. "Whoever cuts out this filthy little mole gets the money!" Before Faye lost consciousness, she heard Lex say to the woman, "Three years. Our agreement has expired... You never won over the man you loved. Can you come back to me now?" Later, Faye blew up their marital home and disappeared with the divorce certificate. But Lex went mad.

After my husband Marcus and father-in-law Derek faked their deaths to escape a mountain of debt, my mother-in-law Helen and I went straight to have them legally declared dead for real.  "Mom," I said coldly, "since they were heartless enough to fake their deaths and dump everything on us, then we'll make sure they stay dead everywhere that matters." Helen gripped my wrist tightly and gritted out, "Sell the house. Sell the cars. Sell all those antiques and paintings too." Then her eyes hardened completely. "And we'll take the money and disappear."  Overnight, Helen and I liquidated everything we could and vanished without a trace.  Three years later, the father and son finally returned, only to find strangers living in their former villa as both of them stood frozen in stunned disbelief.

On the first Christmas Eve after our wedding, I was assigned an international flight and couldn't accompany my husband to visit his parents out of town.  Not only did my husband not blame me for it, he even thoughtfully offered to take my in-laws on vacation in my place.  Right before boarding for work, he sent me a message.  Erik: Honey, Mom and Dad and I already boarded the flight to Maldura. Everything's fine over here.  The message warmed my heart instantly. But the moment I turned around, I saw his parents sitting right there in the cabin. For a second, I genuinely thought I was seeing things.  Stunned, I hurried over to them. "Dad? Mom? This isn't the flight to Maldura. Why are you on this plane?"  At the sound of my voice, the two of them turned around. The moment they noticed my uniform and name tag, confusion immediately filled their faces.  "Who are you?" Erik's mother asked with a frown. "Don't go around calling strangers Mom and Dad. My son's wife is sitting right behind us, so don't go claiming random people as your in-laws."

"Honey, the company's sending me overseas for a year," my husband told me shortly after we got married. "Once I come back, we'll finally have enough for the down payment on our own house."  Right after breaking the news, he brought his bedridden grandmother and younger sister to our apartment.  "Grandma and Zara will have to stay with you for now," he said apologetically. "Sorry for putting all this on you."  Then he hurried off again. From that day forward, I took care of his grandmother entirely on my own while also handling Zara's school schedule every day. I woke up early to make breakfast, rushed home after work to cook dinner, helped with homework late into the night, and barely had a second to breathe.  At first, my husband still called me often, asking whether I was tired and reminding me not to work too hard. But gradually, the calls became less frequent. Then they disappeared altogether.  After enduring an entire year like that, I finally received another message from him. Miles: Work still isn't finished here. I may need to stay another year.  It wasn't until Zara's birthday that everything finally fell apart.  That day, the screen of her smartwatch suddenly lit up with a new message notification from my husband.  Miles: Friday I'll pick you up at the usual spot with Yasmin. We'll celebrate your birthday together.  Miles: If Zoe asks, just tell her you're sleeping over at a classmate's house Friday night and you'll not come home.  Miles: Don't let her find out.  At that moment, I finally realized the truth. My husband's so-called overseas assignment had never been overseas at all. He had been in this city the entire time.

"Honey, grab me a pack of overnight pads." Samuel Pearson handed over the sanitary pad. "You never seem to get cramps when you have your period." Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. This bastard is up to something. He's definitely cheating on me, and that other woman of his gets cramps. Outrageous, but I kept my face smooth. "I used to get cramps too. I got it sorted out by Dr. Chapman from Chapman's Clinic—the old doctor who was on the news before." He just hummed in response and said nothing else. What he didn't know was that Dr. Chapman and my grandfather were blood brothers who had saved each other's lives. Less than three days later, Dr. Chapman sent me a photo. Sure enough, Samuel had brought a girl to see him for treatment. The girl wore a mask, but her eyes—I would never forget them even if I died!

Charlotte Grant's husband and her best friend were both in the Navy, stationed in the waters of Gesmain year-round. The three of them had grown up together in an orphanage, relying on each other as their main source of support. One day, Charlotte suddenly received a text message from an unknown number. "Charlotte, I'm you from ten years in the future. You have to get to the orphanage right now." When she first received the message, she thought it was just someone playing a prank. To her surprise, another message from the same number arrived seconds later. "I know this sounds crazy, but if you don't go, you're going to regret it forever."

I was married to Ethan Ward for five years, and in all that time, I never once met his parents. Then came Christmas Eve. I slipped away alone, arms full of holiday gifts, and stood outside his family's door for the very first time. Through the crack, I heard his mother's warm, cheerful voice: "Have some more fish, sweetheart." But Ethan was an only child. The door swung open. A stranger stood in the entryway — a woman I had never seen, holding a toddler on her hip, dressed in house clothes as if she owned the place. "Can I help you?" The blood drained from me. That was when I understood: the 3,000 dollars I had been wiring every month to his "parents" — the recipient's account was registered under another woman's name. For five years, I had been paying for another woman's husband. Another woman's child. This marriage was a con built entirely around me. It was time to collect — with interest.

On the night of Celia Shaw's twenty-sixth birthday, her husband still hadn't come home. He just sent her a text. Hudson: Honey, last-minute overtime. Grab the cake first. I'll get there as soon as I can. She didn't think twice and went to pick it up. But on her way back, a stranger dragged her into the shadows. No matter how she struggled or screamed, she couldn't escape the savage attack. The pain in her abdomen grew sharper and sharper. She clutched her stomach, feeling something slipping away. She'd lost her baby. "Police! Freeze! You're under arrest!" A familiar shout cut through the haze. As her consciousness faded, Celia saw her husband, Hudson Payne. He ran toward her, his eyes full of guilt and anguish. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I was too late."

During a zombie clearance mission, I, Evelyn Thorne, was infected with the Necrovirus while protecting my team. My boyfriend, Austin Vance, the team leader, used avoiding suspicion as an excuse and gave the only Antivirox Injection to a teammate who had snuck out and gotten infected. His eyes were red as he promised me, "Evelyn, trust me. Within the three-day incubation period, I will definitely get you an antidote." I endured the burning pain inside my body and nodded. The next day, he actually brought back a dose of Antivirox. But just as the injection was about to enter my bloodstream, Heather Brooks, a female team member who had never left the base before, suddenly frowned. "Austin, my head hurts... I'm so scared I might be infected." Under everyone's watchful eyes, Austin did not hesitate for even a second and gave her the antidote. "If anything happens to Heather as a team member, it would mean I'm not doing my job as captain. Evelyn, you're the deputy leader, and you're also my girlfriend. I have to avoid any suspicion."

The phone rang just as Maya Moore saw the words on her computer screen: Medical mission in Abloure application approved. "Miss Moore, have you and Mr. Cole scheduled your wedding dress fitting yet?" Maya's gaze drifted from the screen to the city beyond the window. Her voice came out calm, cold enough to frost over. "No need. I'll stop by the boutique soon to cancel everything and process the refund." She ended the call and slid open the drawer to sort through the documents inside. The photo rested on top. In it, she leaned against Evan Cole's shoulder, smiling so brightly her eyes curved into crescents, every bit of her happiness laid bare. Her fingers stalled above the picture, trembling faintly. No one knew that photo had sat beside her hospital bed for five years in her last life. And no one knew she had already died once, only to open her eyes and return to this exact day with every memory still carved into her mind.

Year three of the apocalypse. My girlfriend, the second-in-command of the Safe Zone, made me live in the isolation zone for 1,095 days. Every time I showed up covered in wounds with a pass, she gave me that troubled look. "Sam, you're my boyfriend. I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism. "The spots have to go to the families of fallen sisters. You need to wait. "You don't have an ability. Even if you came in, you'd just be ordinary fighting power..." I bought her bullshit, turned around, and threw myself back into the zombie hordes. Until the day I saved up my ninth pass. Fever of 104°F, I crawled to find her. And walked in on her stuffing the last spot into her ex-boyfriend's arms. She shielded him, her eyes soft. "Tom's healing ability is the hope of all mankind. I have to prioritize the greater good." And the bloodstained pass in my hand? She tossed it in the trash. In that moment, I finally understood. All her "troubled" looks and "greater good" speeches were just excuses, weighing costs and benefits again and again to sacrifice me.

Audrey Quinn was the city’s sharpest hostage negotiator. She could talk a knife out of a madman’s hand and walk a victim out alive. Three years ago, during a bank robbery, she disarmed a gunman with her bare hands and saved the man he was holding, Silas Reed. Seventeen stitches sealed her arm. The story became office legend. And then it became an engagement. The day Audrey and Silas got engaged, her team clapped her on the back and said she finally deserved real life. Her ex-husband, Ethan Hale, had a family history of schizophrenia. It got worse after they married, violent episodes, self-harm, hospital stays. By the time she divorced him, she had walked away with almost nothing. Except for their daughter, Mia. Silas Reed, by contrast, was simple and bright, like a clean wind. He was the perfect choice for a husband.  The marriage worked. He handed over his paychecks. Never missed an anniversary gift. When his father needed heart surgery, Audrey pulled strings and brought in a top surgeon. Everything was perfect. Except for one thing...

My husband was supposed to be in mandatory quarantine for seven days after returning from a dengue outbreak zone overseas. At least, that was what he told me. I spent half the night packing a suitcase for him, stuffing in clean shirts, lounge pants, his razor, even the brand of coffee packets he liked drinking before bed. By the time I arrived at the quarantine hotel, the city streets were nearly empty, washed pale beneath the midnight lights. The staff member at the front desk checked the registration list once, then a second time. By the third time, even she looked confused. "Sorry, ma'am," she said carefully, glancing up at me. "There's no reservation under Julian Ashford. He never checked in for quarantine." My thoughts stalled for a second. Then I instinctively reached for my phone, ready to call him and ask what was going on, but before the screen even lit up, movement across the street caught my attention. A black Porsche had just stopped outside another hotel. The driver's door opened first. Julian stepped out in a dark coat, looking exactly the way he always did after returning from a trip, calm, polished, impossible to read. Then he walked around the car and opened the passenger door himself. A young woman slipped out into his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her without hesitation. It wasn't a casual kiss or a moment of impulse. It was intimate and practiced, like they had done this countless times before. The woman laughed softly and pushed against his chest as though embarrassed, but Julian only tightened his grip around her waist and kissed her even deeper. My entire body went cold when I recognized her. Bianca Laurent, the girl Julian had practically raised himself. The same woman he had sworn he would never see again after personally sending her overseas three years ago. My stomach dropped so suddenly I nearly lost my balance. Then my phone vibrated in my hand and a new message popped onto the screen. Julian: Baby, wait for me at home. Attached beneath the message was a photo of a king-sized hotel bed with rumpled sheets and dim golden lighting. I stared at the photo for a long moment, then let out a bitter laugh. Home? What home did we even have left now?

I was Vincent Chase's wife—on paper, at least. But even a bottle of water required OA approval. My mother's surgery was days away. I submitted an emergency loan application. His secretary, Emma, finally approved it. Three minutes later, my phone buzzed. 200,000 KRW deposited. I only understood what those letters meant when the billing desk told me my balance was 138 dollars. I called Vincent immediately. His voice was ice-cold. "Emma signed off on it. Stop being greedy. I'm busy." Then the line went dead. I sent the KRW screenshot to Emma. Three seconds later, her voice message came through, dripping with fake sweetness. "Oh dear, Madam. I must have clicked the wrong currency. But it is what it is, right? You've been burning through cash lately—really need to tighten the belt." That afternoon, my mother missed the window for emergency care because I couldn't pull together the surgery fees. Almost at the exact same moment, Emma posted an update on her Instagram. "Tagging along on Mr. Chase's medical tour of Korea." Nine photos, perfectly arranged. And there she was, tucked against my husband, wine glasses clinking, smile in full bloom. Location: Four Seasons Hotel, Seoul.

I, Layla Beasley, had just gotten the ultrasound photo from my prenatal appointment when my boyfriend, Wyatt Portillo, suddenly said, "Baby, I need to tell you something. Something important." My heart gave a hard thump, and my hand went to my belly before I could stop it. For one foolish second, I thought he was finally going to propose. "I've already married someone else." I went completely still, and the ultrasound photo slipped from my fingers. "What did you just say?" Wyatt moved fast and caught hold of me. "It was a family arrangement. Our families set it up. On paper, that's all it is. As long as you don't make this ugly, I can give you everything except a legal marriage. Don't worry. You and the baby are my real family." I shoved him off me and kept my voice flat. "Wyatt, we're done. I'm terminating the pregnancy."

The day Jasmine Evert discovered that Donald Olson was having an emotional affair with a college girl, she simply set she simply set their marital home on fire. The sound of fire truck sirens got closer and closer. When the door was kicked open, Donald came rushing in, soaking wet, with burning flecks falling in soft flakes above his head. "Are you crazy?!" he yelled at her for the first time. Jasmine sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. "Didn't you say you'd never leave me?" she asked in a very soft voice. "Let's die together." The next second, a burning beam from the ceiling crashed down, and Donald threw himself over her to shield her underneath his body. She heard the sizzle of skin and flesh burning, and she also smelled blood mixed in with the stench of char. Right before she lost consciousness, she remembered the headline that a tabloid in Liora had run when she and Donald got married. It read: "Real-Life Fairy Tale. The Unreachable Man Melts for Love." How ironic.

After the real Farrell heiress returned, Nicole Farrell went from the toast of Los Angeles to someone anyone could step on. She no longer lashed out. Instead, she looked down and started owning her mistakes. She no longer spent money recklessly, learning instead to make do with less. Just when everyone started saying Nicole had finally learned her lesson, Dominic Haynes, her former nemesis, chose that exact moment to propose, right in front of everyone...

Everyone in New York knew Meela was adopted. The day her identity was revealed, she was supposed to leave. But Kaius had begged his parents to let her stay. And he'd only grown more protective of her since then. But only Meela knew the truth. The night her secret came out, Kaius had burst into her room, his eyes red with desire. "Can I?" he'd whispered. And that was how their secret relationship began.