Barclay Hsu

I am "Dragonless" wife of a powerful Dragon Lord. But the moment I opened my eyes, I was being publicly whipped for a false adultery charge orchestrated by his favored concubine. My five-year-old son, Aethan, threw his tiny body over mine to take the brutal, dragon-hide lash. My husband, Caelus, looked at us with pure disgust. "Get out of the way, you Dragonless bastard! Continue the punishment." He ordered the guards to drag my bleeding child away so he could finish beating me to death. To secure a pardon, I used my modern medical knowledge to pull Caelus's other son-the concubine's child-back from a fatal fever. But instead of gratitude, the concubine coached her recovered child to frame me, claiming I had maliciously tortured him with my acupuncture needles. Caelus instantly believed their act, looking at me with murderous suspicion once again. Meanwhile, my own son suddenly coughed up blood and fell unconscious, his spleen silently ruptured from the brutal whip lash he took for me. Looking at my dying child and my cold, arrogant husband, my heart completely died. Why should I stay in this hell, begging for the affection of a blind, cruel man who would let his own flesh and blood die over a cheap lie? I ripped the priceless royal brooch from my collar and stabbed it fiercely into Caelus's hand when he tried to grab my wrist. "I want a divorce. I am done with you completely and forever." This time, I am leaving this wretched place to save my son and live for myself.

The Turner family was on the brink of absolute bankruptcy. To wipe their debts clean, they agreed to marry a daughter to Donovan Carlisle, the notorious, blind, and disabled heir of the Carlisle Group. But the biological daughter, Karyn, threw a hysterical fit, screaming she would never marry a cripple. So, the parents turned their cold, calculating eyes to their adopted daughter, Chloe. They knew Chloe had a neurodevelopmental disorder. They knew she was simple. Yet, without a second thought, they dressed her in oversized, childish rags and threw her into the Carlisle estate as a sacrificial lamb. Before she left, they tested her intelligence one last time with a one-dollar and a hundred-dollar bill, exchanging smug smiles when she happily chose the smaller note. They thought they were sending a broken toy to a useless man. They didn't know that Chloe had been faking her simplicity for years just to survive their cruelty. Behind the mask of an idiot child clutching a teddy bear was "Shadow," a ruthless, anonymous Wall Street genius. She planned to use this marriage as her perfect cover to strip the Turners of everything and build her own empire behind the back of a blind husband. But on her wedding night, when she entered the master suite, Donovan didn't stumble. He grabbed her chin with deadly accuracy, his eyes sharp behind his dark glasses. "You're lying," he whispered. Her blind husband could see perfectly fine. And the ultimate game of deception had just begun.

For three years, my marriage to Alpha Silas was a cold, dark routine. Every night, I drank a bitter tea that sent me into a dreamless sleep, waking up with implanted memories of a loving husband. Then, I discovered the horrific truth. The man sleeping beside me wasn't my husband. He was a soulless clone Silas had bought from a subterranean lab. The real Silas had abandoned our pack to live with his pregnant Rogue mistress. "Ensure she drains the cup. She is too weak to smell the difference between us," I heard Silas tell the clone from outside my door. He had ordered the clone to drug me with Wolfsbane every night. He gave his true love and his royal heir to a lawless Rogue, leaving me in a lightless chamber to be serviced by a counterfeit. But Silas didn't know I possessed the ancient White Wolf blood, which instantly burned the poison from my veins. Lying awake in the dark, my heart shattered into ice. How could my fated mate defile the sacred laws of the Moon Goddess and turn my life into a sick experiment? I didn't cry, and I refused to initiate the Rejection ritual to set him free. Instead, when the trembling clone walked into my bedroom with Silas's exact face and DNA, I smiled. I was going to awaken the clone's inner wolf, get pregnant with his child, and steal my husband's entire kingdom.

What if a succubus was sent to love the most broken, obsessive men across parallel worlds? Isabelle Henderson is a high-level succubus who feeds on pure, intense human emotions-especially love. When she's recruited by a mysterious system to replace heroines who've abandoned their stories, she finds herself thrust into one dark romance after another. Her mission? Make the yandere (lovestruck, obsessive) male leads fall for her. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever. But these aren't ordinary men: A genius investor who hasn't slept in five years, tormented by hyperthymesia and trauma A violent mob boss with skin hunger who hates being touched-until her A wheelchair-bound heir with suicidal thoughts and a dark secret A high school god with split personalities who both want her A disfigured medical genius with severe mysophobia (fear of germs) who can't stand anyone-except her The twist? Unlike the original heroines, Isabelle isn't here to fix them. She's here to want them. Every twisted, possessive, obsessive part. Because the purer the obsession, the sweeter the feast. "They call it sickness. I call it dinner."

The exact moment Marcus Thorne, the most violent Capo on the East Coast, chose to leave our anniversary dinner to answer his mistress's call, I didn't cry. "Business," he rumbled, ignoring the untouched meal I had cooked. "Don't cause a scene, Ellie," he commanded before walking out the door. I later found out his "business" was a polo match with Izzy. She posted a photo of them laughing, her hand on his chest, wearing the shirt I bought him. When I tried to leave, he humiliated me publicly. He kissed her on stage at a gala, just to prove he could. He told his men I was merely acting out. "Ellie is the furniture," he laughed. "You don't throw away antique furniture just because you bought a new TV." But the final blow came when a bomb detonated at a family gathering. Marcus didn't look for me. He dove to cover Izzy with his body. He actually stepped over my bleeding leg to carry her to safety, leaving me in the dust and debris. He thought I was trapped. He thought I was dependent on his money and his name. He thought I would be waiting at home when he was done playing hero. He was wrong. I signed the divorce papers, destroyed my wedding ring, and boarded a one-way flight to Italy. Three months later, when he finally tracked me down in Tuscany, he fell to his knees in the street, begging me to come back. But I just held the hand of the man standing next to me—a man who treated me like a partner, not a prop. "You are trespassing," I said coldly. "Go home, Marcus."

Everyone in the city said I was the luckiest woman alive. I was the diner waitress who saved the amnesiac tech billionaire, Hudson Scott. He fell in love with me, and when his memory returned, he married me against his family's wishes, telling the world I was his one true love. But that was a lie. The man I loved vanished the day the billionaire came back. In his place was a possessive monster who saw me as a possession, and he had just found a new obsession: an artist named Ginger. That’s when the punishments began. Tonight, because Ginger claimed I’d glared at her, he dragged me to a derelict warehouse. My sick mother was tied to a chair, surrounded by open cans of gasoline. He flicked a lighter open, giving me ten seconds to confess to a lie. The man who once worked odd jobs to buy her medicine was now threatening to burn her alive because another woman cried. But it was all a sick performance. Just as he tossed the lighter and flames erupted, his men dragged my mother to safety. “See what happens when you’re not a good girl?” he whispered, before leaving with Ginger. As I carried my mother out of that hellhole, I made a call to a number I hadn't used in years. “Cason? I need your help. I need to disappear.” This time, his world would be the one going up in flames.

My fiancé, Liam, and my brother, Ethan, both fell for the same woman, Chloe. One day, Liam was the man I was going to marry. The next, he looked at me like a stranger. At our engagement party, Liam was an hour late. Then, a picture surfaced of him and Chloe eloping. My world crashed down. To make things worse, Chloe, bandage-clad and tearful, dramatically entered, claiming Liam pushed her. Liam and Ethan, completely taken in, turned on me. "It was Ava," whispered Chloe, and Liam shoved me, causing me to fall and hit my head, bleeding on the floor. My own brother stood over them, his back to me. Two days later, Liam and Chloe showed up, accusing me of my own assault, the man I loved defending the woman who had just lied about me. They were convinced I was the villain, while Chloe was the damsel. I was hospitalized days later with a ruptured appendix, but when I called Ethan, he coldly dismissed me, saying I was "being dramatic," too busy bringing Chloe breakfast. The hospital informed me that my own brother had disowned me. How could two men I loved and trusted so completely be so blind, so cruel? How could my brother abandon me, his only sister, for a woman he'd barely known? I survived. I gathered the last of my strength and resolve. I decided then and there that I wouldn't just disappear; I would rebuild myself, piece by painful piece, into someone they wouldn't recognize, and they would live with the consequences of their betrayal forever.

The heavy iron gate groaned open, and I stepped out, expecting freedom. After a year inside, I longed for my fiancé, Liam, and our son, Noah. But the drive home to our familiar house revealed a chilling transformation: the paint was wrong, my rose bushes were gone. Then Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, delivered the first blow: "Liam has had his hands full, you know. It was a blessing he had Sarah to help him, especially with her being pregnant and all." Sarah. My brother' s widow. Pregnant. My heart seized. The key didn' t fit, but the door was unlocked. Inside, my home was alien-cold, modern, bare of our memories. And then I saw it: a baby' s playpen, a high chair. Not ours. Creeping to the back patio, I saw Liam, his arm around Sarah, her hand on a very pregnant belly. They looked like a perfect family. My perfect family. Then their words: "Are you sure she won' t cause any trouble? She' s supposed to get out this week." "Don' t you worry about Olivia. I know her. She' s loyal to a fault. She took the fall for us once, she' s not going to make waves now. She knows her place." Us. The word twisted in my gut. The truth hit me: Liam hadn' t made a mistake. Sarah had falsified the architectural plans. They had conspired. Liam had begged me to take the blame, promising a future, swearing he' d wait. I believed him. I sacrificed a year, my reputation, my career, for a monstrous lie. The betrayal shattered my heart, but beneath the pain, a cold, hard anger ignited. They thought I was broken, a loyal fool. They were about to learn how wrong they were.

The last thing I remembered was the cold, unforgiving pavement rushing up to meet me. A screech of tires, a flash of headlights, and then a profound, empty silence. My life, a cascade of public humiliation and private despair, was over. It all started at the fashion show, the one where my former best friend, Chloe, stood on the runway, wearing a dress that was a near-perfect copy of my signature design. My own design. Chloe' s powerful family painted me as a jealous, unstable wannabe. My revered mentor turned his back on me. Then Mark, my fiancé, delivered the final blow, breaking our engagement, calling me a failure. I lost everything: my reputation, my love, my financial stability. My death was a footnote in a story that was no longer mine. How could I have been so naive, so blind? How could they have moved so ruthlessly to destroy me, to steal everything I had? The crushing loneliness, the descent into poverty and obscurity, all culminating on that dark, wet street. Then, a sharp, disorienting pull. I gasped, my eyes flying open. I was sitting in the front row of the annual Laurent Gala, my hands smooth, my dress my own design. On stage, Chloe was bowing, wearing the stolen dress. It was the night my life had spiraled into ruin. I was back. I had been given a second chance. Not this time.

My flight home felt endless, a week away from my pregnant wife, Emily, feeling like a year. I pictured her glowing, her smile lighting up the house, ready to welcome me back. But the moment I walked through the door, my world began to fracture. The house was eerily silent, a strange smell in the air, and an overflowing trash can spoke of neglect. Then, Emily' s weak voice called from upstairs, her face pale and clammy, clutching her stomach in pain. At the hospital, a doctor' s cryptic words about "strenuous activity" and needing to be "gentle" left me bewildered, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. I brushed it off, attributing it to stress, clinging to the flimsy explanation when I found a strange bruise on her collarbone-one she vaguely claimed was from clumsiness. But the flimsy facade shattered when I found cigarette ash in our master bathroom sink. I don't smoke, and Emily despises it, making her flimsy explanation about her stepfather stopping by ring hollow. My mother-in-law later confirmed my stepfather-in-law quit smoking years ago, sealing the growing dread in my stomach. Then, my own mother mentioned a new white sedan Emily was seen getting out of, driven by a man-a car I certainly hadn't bought. The pieces clicked into a terrifying mosaic: the doctor' s warning, the bruise, the ash, the unknown man, the mysterious car. But nothing prepared me for the final blow at the doctor' s follow-up: "The fetus is measuring closer to twelve weeks, Mr. Davis." Twelve weeks. A full month older than it should be, a month when I was working fourteen-hour days, thousands of miles away. My world imploded. The doctor wasn't accusing me; he was warning me about her affair. The baby wasn't mine. My wife had cheated, and the life I thought we had built was a cruel, elaborate lie. The man who was supposed to be a father was now the biggest fool. I was a cuckold. And I was going to find out everything.

My MIT scholarship was locked, courtesy of a national coding competition. My future was set. But then I overheard a conversation in the high school computer lab, one that shattered my quiet certainty. Jenny, my childhood best friend, and her powerful "Syndicate" gang-the police chief's kid, the judge's daughter-were planning to cheat on the upcoming AP exams, using stolen data from Jenny's cousin. They found me, and everything changed. They threatened my father' s life-saving transplant, my mother' s safety, everything I held dear. With their parents controlling this town, I had no one to turn to. They forced me to decrypt the stolen files, to create the perfect answer keys, then Jenny deliberately smeared my fingerprints all over the USB drive. "Insurance," she called it. A perfect frame. So, I did the only thing I could. I walked into the SAT, held up that incriminating drive, and publicly confessed to a crime I didn' t commit, a crime so big it had to be federal. I watched my MIT dream vanish. I saw the rage in Agent Morris' s eyes, the pity in my guidance counselor's, and the raw despair on my mother' s face as I admitted guilt. Why would I sacrifice everything-my future, my reputation, my family' s hope-for a ludicrous hack I didn't even do? Why would I burn down my own life and confess to a story so absurd, it made me sound insane? Because I wasn't just confessing. I was setting a trap. And they were about to walk right into it.

My father' s eyes always gleamed when he spoke of the family pact. Whichever daughter got the higher SAT scores and into a prestigious university would marry Mark Johnson, the town' s golden boy. The loser would marry David Wilson, a rumored delinquent from the poorer side of town. This wasn't just a family discussion; this was a replay. In my first life, I was the smart one. I got the top scores, the prestigious university acceptance. I married Mark, lived in a beautiful house. But "golden boy" Mark turned into a monster. After my sister Jessica, forced to marry David, died of an overdose, Mark blamed me. He became cruel, then violent. When I was pregnant with his child, he pushed me from our balcony. "If you hadn't rigged the scores, Jessica would be alive!" he' d screamed, his face twisted. Then darkness. I remember the fall, the pain, the utter betrayal. My perfect life had been a terrifying lie. Killed by the man I married, carrying his child. How could a dream turn into such a brutal nightmare? But then I was back. Living it all again. This time, I remembered everything. This time, I would not repeat the past. This time, I would not marry Mark Johnson. Even if it meant marrying the outcast, David Wilson.

For three years, I, Sarah Miller, poured my heart into my relationship with Ethan Hayes, believing we were a team facing his mounting debts and recent job loss from a struggling tech startup. My loving mother, Mary, despite her own battle with severe emphysema, tirelessly worked extra shifts and sacrificed her precious few savings to help us. In a final, heartbreaking act of selfless devotion, Mary even cashed out her life insurance policy, giving every last penny-$60,000-to Ethan to settle his financial woes, just days before she tragically succumbed to her illness. Her dying wish was for me to use that money to help Ethan, to ensure his future, to be happy. But at my administrative job, a subsidiary of a company called Innovate Solutions, a conversation overheard from a conference room plunged my world into a nightmare: Ethan was a "tech scion," talking about the "Hayes fortune" and a "test" of my loyalty. He wasn't broke; he was a multi-billionaire CEO, and his fabricated poverty was a cruel, elaborate psychological experiment. My mother's agonizing death, her ultimate sacrifice, had been nothing more than a pawn in his sick game. Every act of kindness, every sacrifice we made for him, was a lie. How could the man I loved, the man my mother gave her very life for, be such a manipulative monster? Overwhelmed by grief and a betrayal so profound it choked me, I refused his fake explanations and lavish offers. I walked out of his opulent office, resigned from my job, and cut every tie, determined to find a future free from his monstrous deceit.

I woke up, reborn into my transactional marriage with Amelia, flooded with agonizing memories of my past life – how I, Ethan Miller, shamefully used her, flaunted an affair, and never saw her fierce, hidden love until my dying breath. This time, I vowed to right every wrong, to love her as she truly deserved. But my chance at atonement shattered when Amelia, my chillingly cold wife, threatened my parents' retirement savings. She forced my mother, Sarah, to undergo a dangerous bone marrow transplant for Julian Vance, her beloved artist, leaving me locked away, utterly helpless. After Julian's surgery, Amelia's calculated cruelty escalated into a nightmare. She flaunted Julian, mocked my every attempt at change, deliberately poisoned me, and then subjected me to brutal "re-education" – electroshock, scalding my hand with boiling water. When Julian framed me for her grandfather's injury, Amelia' s chilling rage turned into an unimaginable ordeal, culminating in her threatening my innocent parents' lives, dangling them over a dangerous precipice. How could this be the same woman who died fighting for me? The Amelia I' d come back to cherish, whose love I desperately wanted to earn, had become a terrifying stranger, a monstrous tormentor. Was she reborn too, driven by past pain, or had she simply become pure evil? As the horrifying truth of her unadulterated hatred dawned on me, and my parents' lives hung in the balance, my vow of atonement dissolved. There was only one way out, one final act of self-preservation: I had to fake my own death, vanish, and ensure Amelia believed I was gone forever.

My life was a perfectly curated display: a philanthropic heiress, a devoted husband, and annual galas that outwardly celebrated our unwavering love. But beneath the glittering facade, I stumbled upon a chilling truth: my charming husband Julian and my beautiful sister Liv were not just having a secret affair, but meticulously plotting to strip me of my family's fortune, revealing our entire marriage was a calculated lie, designed solely to gain control of my inherited shares. Julian had always prioritized Liv, abandoning me during my health crisis or fleeing to her side whenever she summoned him, yet nothing prepared me for the night my sister Liv maliciously shoved me into our estate' s ornamental pond. As I struggled to breathe, watching my heavy gown pull me under the shockingly cold water, I saw my husband, my father, and even my college sweetheart all swim past me without a glance, their sole focus on rescuing Liv, who theatrically thrashed and feigned distress in the shallow end. I was left to sink, utterly and completely abandoned. My entire life, it seemed, I' d been the overlooked second choice: my parents showered Liv with affection, my first love chose her vivacity over my quiet nature, and now my husband, the man who had promised unwavering devotion, had merely used me as a pawn for her ambition. How could every single person I ever trusted consistently choose her over me, again and again? As the dark water enveloped me, a strange, profound peace solidified my resolve: the suffocating, theatrical performance of my past life was finally over. I would burn down every painful lie, completely erase Ava Chen, and painstakingly sculpt a new identity, a new life, a true sanctuary where I was the main character, never just an afterthought in someone else's story.

My wedding was set to be the picture of perfection. I stood at the altar, my best man beside me, surrounded by white roses and loved ones, our song just minutes from playing. Then, Chloe's maid of honor rushed towards me, face ashen, uttering words that shattered my world: "Ethan, she’s not coming." Chloe had abandoned our wedding, our future, for Damien—her perpetually 'struggling' ex who always needed 'saving.' My disbelief turned to cold dread when I found them: Damien lounging comfortably, beer in hand, while Chloe justified prioritizing his 'panic attack' over our vows. The humiliation intensified when I later discovered she’d secretly drained twenty thousand dollars from our joint savings, the down payment for our future home, all for him. Five years of my life, my steadfast loyalty, my love—reduced to a manipulative game. The sheer audacity of her betrayal, the calculated deceit, left me reeling, questioning every moment we shared. How could the woman I loved so completely throw it all away for a pathetic, freeloading ex-boyfriend? But from the ashes of my broken heart, a cold resolve formed: I would completely sever ties and reclaim my life, unknowingly paving the way for a shocking confrontation with Damien and a chance encounter that promised to reset everything.

Upon awakening, I realized that the movie star boyfriend in front of me, who was begging me not to break up, would eventually lead to my tragic death on the streets for the sake of the innocent female lead. So, after he was put on ice, I decisively accepted the pursuit of the CEO. Within a year, the CEO transformed me from an unknown nobody into a popular movie queen. At the awards ceremony, I was surprised to see Pei Ze, who had made a comeback, as the award presenter. When a reporter asked him, "Do you have any encouraging words for the actress Jiang?" Pei Ze sneered, "Work harder on President Lu's bed," or "Just crawl back to my bed."

I woke up to the stench of rust and rotting flesh, no longer a master botanist who commanded life itself, but a D-class exile dumped on a wasteland planet. Memories that weren't mine flooded in. I was framed by my stepsister, betrayed by my fiancé, and banished by my own family to the Ashfall Peninsula to die. The original girl actually starved to death in despair. The moment I opened my eyes, a scavenger tried to smash my skull with a rusty pipe just to eat me. After I killed him to survive, I discovered a harsher truth: in this universe, plant seeds are classified as A-level strategic resources, completely monopolized by the Imperium. But the universe had a sick sense of humor. A mandatory background scan suddenly triggered a galactic broadcast: I, the exiled trash, was a perfect genetic match for the Imperium's top war hero, General Alexander Orr. The family that ruthlessly erased my existence instantly saw me as a golden ticket. My cheating ex-fiancé was dispatched to drag me back, furious that his "property" was matched with someone else. They all thought I was still that weak, naive girl they could manipulate. But as I held the pure, glowing Life Source Crystals I had secretly extracted from the scrap heap, a cold smile crept onto my face. "I didn't come here to die. I came here to build an empire." I turned my back on the galactic broadcast and stepped into the deadly wilderness.

Lillian woke in a werecreature universe as a total loser. Good news was that women ruled here and could take multiple mates, yet she still ended up as the one everyone looked down on. Compared to her talented sister at every turn, she watched her first match get stolen and her next four mates reject her without mercy. The first mate was the King of Succubine himself. On their very first meeting, he warned Lillian that he was only staying long enough to recover from his injuries-and that there could never be anything between them. The second mate was a merman. He took one look at her and said he had no interest in a loser like her, tossing her some cash so she could break off their bond herself. The third mate was the progenitor vampire-over a thousand years old. He admitted to admiring her sister instead and made it clear he had no interest in a layabout like Lillian. Lillian cut every bond and chose her own path instead. But as she rose higher and higher, those same men returned, full of regret and begging her to look at them again. The fourth mate was a werewolf Lillian had rescued from an underground fighting ring. She thought he might actually stay-until he revealed himself as royalty. And of course, he wanted to break their bond for more power.

I knelt on the cold stone of the Dragon God Altar, waiting to marry Lord Harper Carney. It was my only chance to escape the gilded cage of my family. But when Harper finally arrived, he wasn't alone. His arm was wrapped tightly around my cousin, Hettie. Right in front of the entire court, he coldly announced that our marriage was a mistake. Hettie leaned into his embrace, wearing a triumphant smile while playing the innocent victim. The assembled nobles openly jeered at me. They mocked my greatest failing—that I was a worthless "Dragonless" born without the inner fire. My own father was furious, not at them, but at me. He demanded I go to Hettie's estate and beg for her forgiveness. When I refused, he threatened to cut off all my funds and revoke my only job at the Royal Scribes' Office. I was publicly abandoned, stripped of my dignity, and left with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. Why should I be the one to apologize when they were the ones who betrayed me? For years, I had endured their abuse, treated like a pawn to be sacrificed at will. But looking at their smug faces, my despair turned into cold resolve. I took off my betrothal coronet and dropped it at Harper's feet, publicly nullifying the contract myself. I thought I would have to face the ruin alone, until a mysterious, powerful man with burning golden eyes stepped out of the shadows. "Marry me," he said. "I will be your shield, and we will crush them together."

On my wedding day, I caught my fiancé in my stepsister's arms. She was pregnant with his child. And instead of begging for forgiveness, Damian Harrison laughed in my face. He admitted he had always planned to marry me, dump me in some forgotten country estate, and keep my stepsister as the woman he truly loved. So I burned my wedding veil in front of the entire Harrison family and walked away. That should have been the end of it. Instead, Damian's mother sent armed men after me. Why? Because I was a Dragonless nobody from the borderlands, and in her eyes, humiliating a Harrison was a crime worse than her son's betrayal. I had no dragon blood. No powerful family willing to protect me. Not even my own father would risk offending the Harrisons for my sake. If I wanted to survive, I needed someone they feared more than they hated me. So I returned to the Harrison estate and made an outrageous demand. I would marry Damian's uncle. Gideon Harrison-the legendary Dragon Lord, the kingdom's greatest war hero... and a man everyone believed was dead. Perfect. As his widow, I would outrank the man who betrayed me, become his aunt by marriage, and gain enough power to make every Harrison who humiliated me regret it. I signed the marriage pact without hesitation. Then a knight burst into the ancestral hall with impossible news. Gideon Harrison was alive. My dead husband wasn't dead. He was being brought home.

I took a blood-binding curse to save my younger sister Danae, ruining my magic affinity forever. Instead of gratitude, she stole our mother's token and convinced our father to dump me at a school for magical rejects. In my past life, I actually believed her sweet lies. I thought she was shielding me from the cruel aristocratic academies. I went to that unfashionable boarding school, only to be ground into dust by rogue curses and treated like garbage. Meanwhile, she lived in a palace, surrounded by devoted admirers and endless luxury. When I was finally dragged to the execution pyre, my own father and sister stood in the high stands, watching me burn alive with cold satisfaction. I died screaming in agony, clawing at my scorched skin, utterly betrayed by the family I had bled for. Until the flames consumed me, I didn't understand. Why did the sister I sacrificed everything for want me dead? Why was my devotion rewarded with a fiery grave? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the very morning of my departure to that trash magic school. Danae walked into my room with a warm mug of milk, a razor-thin smear of satisfaction flashing across her lips. She thought she was the only one who had returned to the past. "Sister, you look terrible. Did you have that nightmare again?" This time, I will gladly take the train to the school of rejects. Not to hide in shame, but to build an altar of bone and ruin out of everyone who burned me alive.

I was the adopted, "Dragonless" daughter of the Sterling family, bound by a prestigious marriage contract to my fiancé, Julian. But during the annual charity ball, I followed a secret note to a guest suite, only to catch him tangled on the sofa with my cousin, Isabelle. When I calmly called the Dragon Guard to expose their affair, my adoptive parents didn't comfort me. Instead, they furiously blamed me. "It was an emergency! Our kind Isabelle used her scent to save him, and you just tried to destroy him!" They praised her as a hero, officially handed my fiancé over to her, and decided to punish me for tarnishing the family name. Their revenge was a new marriage contract. They were going to sell me off to Lord Valerius, a cruel, elderly man notorious for outliving three wives. I stared at the death sentence in my hands, my blood running cold. I was the one betrayed, yet I was being discarded like useless trash to pave the way for my cousin's happiness. Why should I let them destroy my life just to protect their twisted, perfect image? I didn't cry, and I refused to be their sacrificial lamb. I drafted a cold, calculated business proposal, packed my bags, and walked out of that toxic house forever. I was going to propose to the most ruthless, powerful predator in the kingdom-Gideon Montgomery. If I had to step into a dragon's lair, I would be the one to choose it.

For four years, I lived as the adopted orphan of the noble Hayes family, treated as nothing more than a living blood bag for my sister, Yvonne. They claimed Yvonne was dying and needed my core essence to survive. In reality, she was entirely healthy, suffering only the backfire of an illegal ritual used to steal my pureblood vitality. While Yvonne played the fragile, weeping victim on her silk bed, my adoptive mother drove silver needles deep into my veins. Everyone in the house praised Yvonne's angelic nature and sneered at me as an ungrateful, magicless stray. When I finally refused to be their livestock, they launched a massive smear campaign in the national newspaper. "She is a jealous monster who deliberately abandoned her dying sister," the headlines screamed. They assumed a penniless, anemic girl with no backing would quickly crawl back to their door, begging for table scraps and offering up her veins again. They had no idea who was actually walking in this starved body now. The memories of Nyx, the elite Chief Enforcer of the Magic Council, had just awakened within my fragile shell. I calmly ripped the extraction needle from my flesh and went straight to the Registry to burn our magical adoption contract to ashes. They wanted to destroy my reputation and drain me dry? I would build my own empire and collect every single ounce of stolen blood back from them. With interest.

My engagement to Kile, the heir of House Golden, was witnessed by the Duke himself. I thought my days as a helpless orphan were over. But right before our wedding, he coldly informed me that my status was being revoked. I was to enter his family as a lesser consort. The title of primary wife was being given to his lover, Journey. She hid behind Kile, wearing a spotless white dress and trembling like a fragile lotus. "Cassie, please don't blame him, I can live without a title," she cried, playing the perfect victim. Kile shielded her, glaring at me with pure disgust, shouting that I was being completely unreasonable. The next day, the entire Elder Council cornered me in their grand hall. They told me that as a "Dragonless" nobody, I should be immensely grateful for any scrap they threw my way. They all stared at me, waiting for me to swallow my pride and accept a lifetime of humiliation. They thought I was entirely broken. They thought I had no backing and no choice but to bow down to their cruelty. Instead, I looked straight at the Chief Elder and smiled. "I refuse to be a lesser consort," I announced clearly, watching Kile's smug expression freeze. "But to preserve our families' dignity, I will fulfill the contract." I looked right into Kile's shocked eyes. "I will marry your dead older brother, Lord Ayden."

I gave Kaelen Sterling everything. My fortune. My family's trust. Even the military secrets that should never have left my father's hands. He swore he loved me. Then he used me to destroy my entire family. My father was beheaded for treason. My brothers died on the battlefield. My sick mother coughed up blood until her final breath. And the fortune my mother had saved for me became the stepping stone Kaelen and his precious "savior," Jacqueline Byrd, used to climb into the highest circles of the kingdom. When there was nothing left to steal, Kaelen locked me inside an abandoned manor and set it on fire. Through the flames, I saw him holding Jacqueline in his arms. She was pregnant with his child. And she was wearing silk bought with my mother's dowry. "Burn it all," Kaelen said coldly. "Leave no trace." I died screaming his name. Then I opened my eyes. I was twenty again. Kaelen had just returned from the battlefield after being declared dead for two years—and standing beside him was Jacqueline, looking fragile and innocent as ever. "She saved my life," he told me. "You will accept her." In my last life, I did. This time, I slapped him across the face. Then I burned our marriage contract. They all thought grief had driven me mad. They had no idea I remembered everything. Every betrayal. Every secret. Every scandal that had not happened yet. I knew which noble houses would fall. I knew which princes would rise. I knew the hidden weaknesses of the people who would one day control the Dragon Court. And they had forgotten something else. I was never just a wealthy heiress. I knew herbs. I knew alchemy. I knew how to survive a royal court where one wrong move could cost an entire family its head. Kaelen wanted my fortune. Jacqueline wanted my place. My stepmother wanted my mother's power. And the men above them wanted to use House Croft as another piece on their board. Let them try. I died once as their pawn. This life, I will take back my family, my fortune, and every drop of blood they owe me. And when I am finished, I won't just survive the Dragon Court. I will rule it.

She died in the apocalypse-betrayed, abandoned, and torn apart by the infected. Then she woke up. Two months before the end of the world. Twenty-two years old again. And on her wrist, a wooden bracelet that her mother had left behind. The bracelet came with a system. A system that eats gold. With enough gold, she can unlock infinite storage for food, water, weapons-anything she needs to survive. The super-hurricane, the floods, the insect plagues, the volcanic winter, the scorching heat... she knows exactly what's coming. While the world sleeps, Joanna shops. She drains her aunt's bank account, maxes out every loan she can find, and buys out half the city. The apocalypse is coming. She'll be ready. But when the chaos begins, the wolves come crawling back-relatives who sold her, friends who betrayed her, a father who abandoned her. They want her food. Her water. Her mercy. Joanna has a different plan. "Why don't you decide who dies first?"