My best friend, Chloe Jones, and I reached adulthood together. Today marked the moment we would fully awaken to the illustrious witch bloodline that kept the town alive. The town's leader, Countess Elizabeth, presented us with two male slaves, destined to be our loyal companions until we evolved into sovereign witch rulers.   In our previous lives, Chloe had boldly chosen the mesmerizing vampire, while I was left with the brutish werewolf. Chloe's bond with the vampire granted her the gift of immortality, yet she remained unaware that her noble witch lineage had been irrevocably corrupted, reducing her to a mere servant of the vampire. She was compelled to aid him in his quest to become the Blood Ancestor, forever banished from the sun. When the blood hunters invaded our town, she met her end at the hands of silver bullets and holy water while defending the vampire. In contrast, I had always been safeguarded by the werewolf and, with the guidance of the male witch priest, had awakened early, emerging as the most powerful witch ruler. In her final moments, jealousy consumed Chloe, and with her last ounce of strength, she cast a witch's curse, leading to our simultaneous demise.   Suddenly, I found myself back at the male slave selection. Seeing Chloe share a knowing look with the male witch priest, I knew she was back too. She ensnared the werewolf and shifted the vampire onto me. Unbeknownst to her, the werewolf carried a poison in his blood—savage by nature, and on the night of the full moon, driven into a madness that nothing could stop.

On the way to the airport to pick up Justin Litt, I casually came across a post about catching a cheating boyfriend in the same city.   After three years of long-distance, my boyfriend cheated. I'm catching the two of them in the act tonight. How should I punish the other woman to get my revenge? The comments went wild, and the poster replied one by one. Poster: [His flight lands tonight, and I heard that the other woman will be there to pick him up.] Poster: [I want to catch her in the act and make sure she never forgets the shame.   Poster: [By the way, her license plate is H3288.] In the next moment, I hit the brakes hard. That was my plate number.

Julian Foster was celebrating Vivian Hayes's birthday in the middle of our wedding, while I stood there clutching a confetti cannon like an unpaid extra.   I still hadn't figured out what kind of "surprise" he'd planned for Vivian when Julian barked at me.   "Eve, are you deaf? I told you to crouch down! You're blocking Vivi's dress!"   I looked at Vivian, dressed to the nines, then at the guests around her. Not a single person looked surprised.   Before I could ask what the hell was going on, Julian's cousin shoved me off the stage.   No one cared that the bride had just hit the floor with a heavy thud.   The emcee turned to Julian, who had just finished taking photos with Vivian and was holding her birthday cake for her to blow out the candles.   "Mr. Foster, since you chose to celebrate Ms. Hayes's birthday today, are you planning to help her find a boyfriend while you're at it?"   Julian intertwined his fingers with Vivian's and flashed a carefree smile.   "If she's looking for a boyfriend, shouldn't I get first dibs?"   The crowd erupted into cheers.   With a smug smile, Vivian tilted her chin. "That depends on whether Mr. Foster can impress me."   The emcee had only meant to ease the awkward atmosphere, but he hadn't expected the two of them to openly flirt on the wedding stage.   Left with no other choice, he awkwardly continued the ceremony.   "Ms. Eve, do you take Mr. Julian Foster to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health..."   Before he could finish, Julian cut him off. He looked down at me sprawled beneath the stage, impatience written all over his face.   "Hurry up and say yes."   I looked at the giant screen displaying "Happy Birthday, Vivian", then at the family and friends surrounding her as they showered her with blessings.   The wedding I'd spent so long looking forward to had become nothing more than the backdrop for someone else's celebration.   Seeing that I still hadn't responded, Julian frowned and urged me again.   I caught the microphone he tossed at me and said through gritted teeth, "I won't."

On the day the Mafia Godfather was crowned, I completed my 10,000th dark-web bounty. I had finally scraped together fifty million dollars to buy that private island he'd always dreamed of and put it in his name, as a celebratory gift. But when I returned to the castle bruised and battered, I saw Chris pinning the family crest, the symbol of the matriarch, to my sister's dress. "I've already put the island in your name. Play around however you like; it doesn't matter if it doesn't make money, as long as you're happy." Shirley didn't say thank you. She just gave a cold nod. His eyes were filled with infatuation, but when he turned to me, his face turned sinister. "Today is my coronation. You came empty-handed?" he asked. I stared hard at that crest. "That island was earned with my blood, sweat, and tears," I retorted. He sneered. "Every day, for a bit of cash, you're on the dark web sucking up to those scumbags. Why get so worked up over dirty money like that? Shirley is noble and pure by nature. It's an honor for you that she spends the money you earn." He didn't know that Shirley wasn't my biological sister, but merely a high-end android I had customized, nor that dark web bounties had always been just my side gig. Because he preferred the cold and aloof type, I had programmed her to be cold and distant. I couldn't be bothered to argue, simply smiling indifferently. I took out my phone and opened the Chief AI Officer job offer from Austeris Space Exploration Headquarters. I glanced at the instruction to leave immediately and tapped "Accept" without hesitation.

Three years ago, Grant Whitmore destroyed me in front of all our alumni. He accused me of taking his family's money while pretending to love him. That night, I left in the pouring rain, fell down a stone staircase, and permanently damaged my right knee, ending my career as a dancer forever. Three years later, I returned—with a wedding invitation in my hand. When I handed it to Grant at our alumni reunion, he stopped me. He asked the waiter to turn off the AC behind me, just like he used to care. Then he pressed my invitation against the table and asked with red-rimmed eyes. "Who said you could marry someone else?" What he didn't know was that my groom was sitting at the head table, calmly watching him lose control. And he had been waiting for this day for seven years.

While Beryl Hill was playing League of Legends with me, my boyfriend, Elvis Wood, suddenly sent her a shirtless mirror selfie, his abs on full display. Beryl laughed and replied with a single question mark. Beryl: Seriously? Have some self-respect. Your girlfriend is literally sitting right next to me. Elvis texted back almost instantly. Elvis: I lost a dare. Otherwise, why would I send you a picture of my abs? He even attached a smug little meme. After the match, the three of us headed to our favorite barbecue spot. The owner grinned the moment he saw them. "The usual?" Elvis nodded. Without thinking, he slipped the hair tie off his wrist and handed it to Beryl. "No iced soda for you today. You're on your period." "Oh, come on." Beryl rolled her eyes. "Soda without ice isn't even worth drinking." "When you're curled up crying from cramps later, don't expect me to carry you to urgent care." I sat quietly in the corner, watching them tease each other, a dull ache slowly spreading through my chest. I'd been dating Elvis for five years. Beryl had been my best friend for just as long. The smoke drifting off the grill stung my eyes until they watered. For a second, I couldn't tell who the third wheel really was.

When I was rushed into surgery with a ruptured appendix, my husband, Dante Moretti, the Don of the Moretti Family, was in the same private hospital, staying by Bianca Vitale's side. She knowingly ate half a peanut-filled dessert despite having a severe peanut allergy, then burst into tears, claiming someone had tried to poison her. I called Dante seventeen times before he finally answered. He told me to lock the doors and wait for his private physician. Even after I told him I was in so much pain that I couldn't even stand, he still chose to believe it was just another stomach flare-up. In his eyes, I was always safe, always strong, and someone who would never leave. The next morning, I signed the divorce papers and walked away with the design portfolio that had been gathering dust for three years. Six months later, I stood on the stage of an international design awards ceremony as Adrian Cole slipped a ring onto my finger. Meanwhile, Dante sat alone in the last row, his eyes red as he finally admitted the truth. It was never that he didn't love me. He had simply mistaken my love for a loyalty that would never run out. As for the woman he'd spent seven years protecting, she was ultimately convicted of plagiarism, commercial fraud, and arson, and it was Dante himself who turned her over to federal authorities, sending her to prison.

On the night of our pre-wedding party, I showed up in the sexy swimsuit my fiancé had prepared for me—only to discover that everyone else was dressed in formal wear.   Every mocking gaze in the room turned toward me, leaving me frozen in humiliation.   Ethan Hart stepped in front of me. His tone was easy. "Chloe can be a handful. She switched the theme last minute and forgot to give you a heads-up."   Before I could answer, the lights came on. Ethan's female best friend, Chloe Reed, appeared in the doorway wearing the wedding gown I had ordered 1 year in advance.   Ethan pushed me aside without hesitation and walked toward her with a smile.   So the new theme was a mock wedding.   Chloe wore my gown, held on to my groom, and walked to the wedding march I had chosen.   As she passed me, she tilted her head and smiled. "Claire won't mind, will she? I'm just asking my best friend to help me fulfill my dream of wearing a wedding dress."   Ethan answered for me at once. "Why would she mind? She loves me. Learning to indulge you is mandatory."   The groomsmen whistled and shouted, "If we're doing a mock wedding, we have to do the whole thing! Kiss! Kiss!"   Chloe smiled sweetly and kissed the corner of his mouth. Ethan lowered his head and held her waist so she could lean on him and kiss him more easily.   I slowly removed my engagement ring and asked one of his close friends to give it to him.   That was one mandatory lesson I had no intention of learning.

3 months after the car accident, I had just finished rehab training when I lost control of my bladder again. The caregiver had barely helped me back into bed when Ethan Hale's assistant, Tessa Reed, barged in with several coworkers. She stared at my exposed lower body and soaked incontinence brief, covered her nose, and shouted, "God, that stinks! Claire, you're a grown woman. How can you still wet yourself?" Their stares made my eyes burn. I grabbed my water glass and hurled it at them. "Get out!" The glass never came close to Tessa, but she screamed, clutched her forehead, and collapsed to the floor. Ethan arrived a moment later and saw only the mess. He hurried over to cover me with a blanket, then turned to help a sobbing Tessa to her feet. "Tessa brought everyone here because she was worried about you. How could you attack her? Apologize." I stared at him in disbelief. Hidden behind him, Tessa gave me a smug little arch of her brow. Rage flared in my chest. If she was going to turn my hospital room into her private stage, I would drag her and her whole performance into the spotlight. And since Ethan wanted an apology, I would make him watch the woman he protected destroy her own reputation before I sent him crashing down with her.

On the night of our tenth wedding anniversary, I sat alone in front of a candlelit dinner that had long gone cold. A short video suddenly popped up on my feed, trending with millions of views. The clip showed a couple's ten-year transformation, from riding around in the beat-up delivery van to upgrading to the Mercedes. The caption was pure sentimentality: Is the person sitting in your passenger seat today still the same girl who was willing to suffer beside you all those years ago? I smiled and reached to hit the like button, but my eyes caught on the top comment instead. [I never suffered alongside my man. But I'm already sitting in the Mercedes.] Attached was a photo taken from the passenger seat of a Mercedes, showing a pair of legs in black stockings crossed at the knee. The interior of that car was identical to my husband Cassian Voss's, down to the last detail. Right then, Cassian pushed through the door, carrying the faint trace of perfume on his clothes. I tilted my phone screen toward him and held his gaze. "Cassian, didn't you say you were working late at the office tonight?" His eyes darted away. He tugged at his tie. "Stop overthinking everything." I lowered my gaze, my fingertip slowly tracing across that photograph, and I smiled. He had probably forgotten that I was once that girl too, the one who sat in the beat-up delivery van beside him, waking before dawn and working until dark, willing to endure anything.

"Ms. Scott, this isn't carpal tunnel syndrome. It's Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS." I rubbed my stiff wrist and forced out a shaky smile. "Doctor... can it be cured?" He didn't answer directly. "You'll start dropping things. You'll fall more often. Swallowing will become difficult, and eventually..." He paused. "Please have your family come in. We need to discuss a treatment plan as soon as possible." My mind went completely blank. "If I stick to treatment... can I still compete in swimming?" That gold medal was supposed to be a birthday gift for my brother. The doctor looked up. "You have a biological brother?" I nodded. "He should get genetic testing. There's a chance he could carry the same mutation." Just then, my phone buzzed. Best Brother Wyatt: Doris, I'm on a business trip with Mom and Dad. I'll bring back a gift for you. I didn't want my family to worry. So I secretly searched If the younger sister has ALS, does her brother have it too? Before I could finish reading the search results, a breaking news alert slid across my screen. "Police Bust Major Human Trafficking Ring—Rescue the Scott Family's Real Daughter" The video played automatically. My family surrounded a girl I'd never seen before. She clung to my brother, sobbing into his shoulder. I stared at the screen without blinking. Then I let out the biggest sigh of relief. So I wasn't really related to the Scott family by blood. That meant my brother wouldn't inherit this disease. What I never expected was that after I died, my brother would hold my urn in his arms, over and over again, whispering through tears, "Doris... why did you leave me behind?"

Kevin performed far better than expected in his interview and received an offer from Nexora Systems, a major technology company based in Silvercrest.   At the family celebration, he demanded that I pay for a luxury condo for him and his girlfriend in Bayhaven. If I refused, he threatened to tear up his offer letter.   To earn the money, I worked for 7 days without rest and suffered a fatal heart attack. While I lay dying, Kevin and my husband, Derek, moved into the condo I had bought, together with Derek's mistress, Vanessa, and her daughter, Chloe.   When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of Kevin's celebration dinner.   I snatched the offer letter from his hand and tore it to pieces.   "Don't worry, Kevin. You don't have to work for Nexora. I believe in you. You can collect trash and support yourself just fine."

On the day of my sister's grand wedding, an Omega collapsed onto the red carpet, screaming and sobbing that she'd been abused.   Everyone immediately took the fragile Omega's side. Without a shred of proof, they threw my sister into the pack's coldest dungeon.   When I finally saw her again, there was nothing left but a broken, unrecognizable corpse.   Her face had been destroyed. Every rib had been shattered. Every fingernail had been torn away. Her entire body had been drenched in blood.   I was the strongest Beta in the BloodShadow Pack, her twin, her reflection, and the one who should have protected her.   But while my sister suffered, I was locked away in a psychiatric ward, branded as a dangerous mad wolf.   The moment I learned the truth, I ripped through the iron bars with my bare hands.   The beast inside me finally awakened.   Those bastards who had caused my sister's death must pay—I was coming for all of them!

The day I was supposed to pick out my wedding dress with my boyfriend York Grant, my best friend Summer Hayes showed up uninvited, saying there was an urgent project at work that needed his attention.   Before I knew it, the two of them were deep in an endless, heated discussion about the deal, leaving me completely forgotten.   From our college days to the corporate world, York and Summer had always been seen as the perfect pair. Everyone admired how well they worked together.   But I had poured my heart into studying economics, only to realize I could never truly fit into their world.   York simply tried to comfort me with his gentle voice, saying, "Once Summer and I close this deal, you can start preparing for the celebration party, okay?"   I was exhausted.   My talents were never meant for their world. Why should I keep pushing myself to exhaustion just to chase after them?

Liam Parker had been attached to me ever since we were kids. His family had everything money could buy. When he was little, he once used one of his mother's custom couture dresses as a canvas for his drawings. She was furious, but couldn't bring herself to punish him. Yet the only things Liam truly treasured were the gifts I gave him. Even something as small as a piece of candy I'd casually handed him would end up carefully stored in a glass jar. The adults always teased that he'd grow up and marry me. I believed it too. Until the day I came back home. At a restaurant, I saw my half-sister, Arlene Young, having dinner with a handsome man. Liam stared at the man through gritted teeth. "Delia, his name is Ronald Carter. He's violent, he's terrible with women, and Arlene deserves better. I need you to seduce him. Get him away from Arlene before she gets hurt."

The most feared Mafia matriarch in Ashford made a public offer. Whoever could cure her cold-blooded son's crippling fear of women and give the Vitale family an heir would receive50 million dollars. To pay off my family's overwhelming debt to loan sharks, I spent my days selling burgers from a food cart on the streets of Westhaven. The moment I heard about the reward, I couldn't get it out of my mind. So I became exactly the kind of woman the heir hated most: a shameless gold digger who pretended to be hopelessly in love with him. I barged into his private casino, threw myself into his arms, and refused to take no for an answer. At first, the ruthless Mafia boss looked at me like I was nothing but trash. Without the slightest change in expression, he ordered his men to cut me apart and dump my body into the river. But somewhere along the way, everything changed. He locked me inside his bulletproof penthouse and held me in his arms all night, like a wild beast guarding its most precious possession. If another man dared to flirt with me, he would pull out his gun without hesitation. Eventually, I completed the mission. I got my 50 million dollars. Without looking back, I asked his mother to arrange a smuggler and escaped overnight. Just as I was about to board a cargo ship and vanish forever, Mafia helicopters surrounded the dock. Rain poured from the sky. Nero Vitale walked toward me across the blood-stained pavement. He lifted my trembling chin with the cold barrel of his gun. His blue eyes burned with an obsession intense enough to destroy everything in his path. "You took 50 million dollars from me. You stole my child. And now you think you can run?" He tore off his tie, bound my wrists behind my back, and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath. A cold smile curled across his lips. "Chloe, today I'll teach you exactly what happens when you betray the Mafia Boss." His voice lowered. "When you die, the only grave you'll ever have is in the Vitale family cemetery."

Every woman in the city coveted the job of special assistant to the mafia boss Theodore Vitali. Only I knew that the Van Cleef & Arpels jewelry and lucrative contracts were merely ornaments on the gilded cage. Outsiders saw only the glittering facade. They never saw how I risked my life for him every day—how I suffocated under his iron grip, driven by one single, burning goal: escape. Then a new intern arrived, casting contemptuous looks my way and eagerly trying to push me aside, treating me like an old hag who had no business being there. But secretly, I felt a surge of delight. Finally, someone was willing to step into Theodore's gilded cage and take my place.

A century earlier, the ancestors of the Chase family slew the werewolf Alpha, stripped off his skin, and crafted armor from it. They saw it as a symbol of glory, but with his dying breath, the Alpha cast a blood curse upon them.   From then on, every man born into the Chase family turned into a savage beast on the night of his 27th birthday. Coarse fur spread across his body, his wild nature consumed his reason, and blood poured from every opening until he died in torment.   The only way to break the curse was to bind himself to a woman blessed with a rare natural scent, one that could soothe the beast within and keep the curse under control.   In my previous life, my sister, Siana Cape, claimed she carried that rare scent, but I called her out. The Chase family ended up forcing Julian Chase to marry me instead.   Furious, Siana ran off to Frostholm. When they finally found her, sulfuric acid had ruined her face and body beyond recognition. Julian blamed her for everything and took me away on our honeymoon.   Yet on our wedding night, Julian seized my jaw and forced an entire bottle of concentrated acid down my throat. Hatred filled his eyes as he cursed, "Serena, Siana was the only woman I ever wanted. She died because of you. I'll make sure you suffer exactly what she went through!"   My organs were burned apart. I died in unbearable pain, trapped in that foul smelling pool of acid. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the Chase family came to pick one of us as Julian's future wife.   This time, anyone who wanted to marry him was welcome to. All I wanted was revenge.

I had a strange illness.   I was not pregnant, and I did not have a boyfriend, yet my breasts produced large amounts of milk every day.   To save enough money for my mother's surgery, I had no choice but to wrap myself tightly in a chest binder and work the night shift as a cleaner in Mansfield's most prestigious office building.   Until one night, I got trapped in an elevator with a billionaire CEO who owned a black card. In the chaos, the binding around my chest suddenly came undone.   The milk quickly soaked through my uniform, and a faint milky scent spread throughout the elevator.   The next day, a contract offering a monthly salary of fifty thousand dollars was placed in front of me.   The job was to be the private wet nurse for his three-year-old son.   I thought this life-saving money had come far too easily.   But I never expected that the real nightmare had only just begun.   That night, after midnight, he locked me inside the study, pinned me down, and began sucking my milk.   He said, "My son is full now. It's my turn."

Three years after I began dating my CEO boyfriend, Niels Nicholas, the whole world knew how hopelessly devoted he was to me. Even though people believed I was nothing more than a pretty ornament with no value to offer him, he was still willing to spend billions on custom-made jewelry just to see me smile. After all, words could be fake, but a man's money never lied.   But the day before I was about to reveal my true identity as the heir to a mafia family, I received intimate photos of Niels and his first love, Helena Rossetti. The proud and domineering CEO who had always stood above everyone else was actually kneeling on the floor, serving her.   Helena: He only spends money on you because he has more than enough to spare. But with me, Niels isn't the powerful CEO everyone admires. He's just a tame puppy who only begs for my attention whenever I call. How sad! You can't even hold on to your own man.   I didn't respond. I simply made a phone call. "Tell my father the inheritance ceremony will continue as scheduled. I'll be there."

Only 8 hours left before the wedding. Ivan Wood's face was buried against my neck when he suddenly spoke. "I met a girl. She's timid as hell. I want to marry her." His lips brushed lightly against my ear. There wasn't a trace of passion in his voice. The ache between my legs hadn't even begun to fade. I stared at him, my throat tightening until I could barely force out the words. "It's... our wedding tomorrow." He simply leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth. "I bought you an apartment near the house. You'd make a great mistress." Then Ivan chuckled softly, like he'd just remembered something that made his heart melt. His whole expression softened. "She's sensitive. If she sees me marrying another woman, she'll cry." The tenderness in his eyes...  It wasn't for me. I clenched my trembling hands beneath the blanket, forcing myself not to fall apart. My brother was right. Ivan was never worth it—the chance to be the richest man's sister.

Everybody in Empire City knew tycoon Leon Sterling couldn't touch women during sex. The scent of one, or the sight of a face, and he'd vomit until nothing was left. He'd spent millions just to find one woman with a natural scent—a masked woman who could ease his skin hunger.   By day, I got files thrown at my face and was called a low-level assistant reeking of poverty. At night, I was pinned under him, his teeth biting the tender skin of my neck, pushed until my whole body shook in uncontrollable spasms.   I was the only cure that drove him mad with obsession.

Ever since I gave birth to the twins three months ago, my husband, Ryan Wood, hadn't slept with me once. He said I was loose—like a torn sack—and that sleeping with me felt like nothing at all.   He forced me to see his father, Brian Wood, the city's top OB-GYN, for postpartum recovery. I lay on the exam table, legs spread, waiting for the speculum to go in. But what entered my body wasn't cold metal. It was a hot, burning manhood. My mind went blank and my whole body started shaking.   Brian, with gold-rimmed glasses, got emotional and said to me, "You're so perfect. The one who's sick is Ryan. Will you join me to make him wish he were dead?"

My President husband, Frank Gold, was known for being a cold workaholic. Before the wedding, he laid down three rules for me—his clingy, codependent fiancée: "First, maintain your independence. Do not ask me to accompany you to any social events. "Second, be sensible and obedient. No using your status as my girlfriend to guilt-trip me. Handle your own business. "Third, give each other enough space. No tantrums, no unreasonable drama." He said that enough personal space would make love last longer. I believed him. That was until I saw his Telegram account, still logged in on his computer. He had only one contact on his favorites list: his first love, Lily Jones. Lily wanted to see the Northern Lights—he cleared his entire schedule and took her to Southreach. Lily got blackout drunk at a club at three in the morning—he left me in bed to go pick her up. There were dozens of pages of chat logs. They exchanged "good morning" and "goodnight" every day. They shared everything under the sun, from meals and daily routines to deep conversations. Their flirty banter was so thick it was suffocating. So, Frank Gold wasn't cold or slow to warm up. He'd just poured all his warmth into another woman. I didn't make a scene. Instead, I sent a text to someone I hadn't contacted in three years: Gwen: I'm done being Mrs. Gold. Come get me and take me home.