Precious Benedict

Maple Jones got sold to one of the cruelest Alpha King; Scott MCcall by her step father, broken and left without a choice she's pushed into a life she was never ready for but accepts her fate still, holding onto the hope that she'd be set free once she produced an heir for the Alpha king. Things get twisted when she finds out he's her mate and then falls deeply in love with him, despite his cruel attitude towards her, she believed one day he'd figure out the bond they share and love her back but later on she finds out she never and could never mean anything to him other than a tool. Will she be able to live with him despite knowing this or will Scott one day love her back ?

Chloe's life was shattered around her. The life she once knew, filled with promises and joy, had been shattered beyond repair when her dance student, Kim Carson, started having affairs with her husband, Fedrick Huo. They both teamed up to maltreat Chloe which resulted in the death of her baby. Chloe miraculously survived the accident but had a serious face crash which resulted in changing her face. After spending a long time in the hospital and building herself, Chloe applied to be a dance tutor to Kim Carson in preparation for her wedding with Fredrick. But Chloe didn't come for the job, but revenge. On the verge of seeking revenge against her ex-husband and his mistress, she uncovered a sad truth about the death of her parents, leaving her questioning everything she thought she knew about her past. What truth did she find out? And how would she scale through this dark path where she has to fight Fedrick, Kim, and murderers alone?

Anastasia Wolfe, a young, beautiful lady, she is young and charming . However, fate takes an unexpected turn on her life due to a one night stand she had with a stranger . The passionate encounter leads to an unplanned pregnancy, and she finds herself navigating the daunting path of single parenthood. Her world shatters further when she discovers the father of her child is not just any man, but a very powerful and feared man . He is the devil that all other demons bow down to . At the mention of his name fear is stricken into the heart of many . He is the Alpha of the most feared pack in America," Dominic Steele." In order to avoid the prying eyes of the community ,she starts anew in a distant land, determined to protect her children from their father's formidable influence. Years pass, but fate has other plans. The children, bearing a striking resemblance to their father, are growing into their own power as werewolves, and their true nature can no longer remain concealed. Could the truth ever be hidden? Let's find out in the book " THE ALPHA SECOND CHANCE".

Veronica Demoore was the girl everyone despised. Mocked for her weight, humiliated for her grades, and crushed beneath a brutal home life, she lived every day as the target of ridicule-until the day she couldn't bear it anymore. The world thought Veronica died that night. But when she opens her eyes again. someone else is looking through them. Savanna. A woman once raised in the shadows of a powerful organization. A genius trained to survive, manipulate, and dominate. In her previous life, she had wealth, intelligence, and strength. In this one, she has none of those things-only Veronica's broken body and shattered reputation. But weakness is temporary. Bullies who once laughed at Veronica soon discover the girl they tormented is no longer the same. Her mind is sharper. Her gaze is colder. And the quiet girl they used to push around now carries a dangerous confidence. As Savanna begins transforming Veronica's life piece by piece-losing weight, exposing enemies, and rising to the top of the school-the truth behind her rebirth slowly unfolds. Because Savanna didn't die by accident. And the people who killed her are still out there. This time, she won't be their victim. This time- she's coming for everything.

I survived ten years in the apocalypse, only to transmigrate into the body of the most despised woman in the Galactic Empire. When I opened my eyes, I was holding a bloody whip, straddling a beastman husband the original owner had just tortured. The mechanical system in my head immediately issued a death sentence. "In two months, your trial marriage ends. Your six abused husbands will be legally permitted to tear you apart." The original host was an absolute monster. She beat them, starved them, stole their meager military stipends for luxury goods, and even sent two of them to a deadly alien warzone just to impress her high-society friends. Now, I was left with her massive debts, a blocked power core, and the terrifying reality of six powerful, vengeful beastmen plotting my murder in the basement. I inherited all her sickening sins, and the crushing weight of their justifiable hatred felt like a suffocating nightmare. How was I supposed to survive when the people I lived with were just waiting for the legal countdown to snap my neck? But an apocalypse survivor doesn't just roll over and die. I pawned the original's useless designer bags, bought the highest-grade nutrient solutions, and called my would-be murderers into the living room. "I know you hate me, and you have every right to," I told them calmly. "We are getting a divorce."

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?"

Maya Cross woke up in a nightmare-trapped in the body of a sadistic villain who'd tortured five powerful beastmen into submission. Good news? She finally had the power to break their bonds and set them free. Bad news? They were stranded on a dying ship surrounded by Zerg swarms, with zero rescue coming. The first was Caleb, a snake beastman whose red eyes burned with pure hatred. Every time he looked at her, she saw the memory of chains and venom extraction. The second was Finn, an aquatic beastman whose scales she'd ripped off one by one. He could barely stand to be in the same room without his hands shaking with rage. The third was Sage, a griffin beastman she'd tormented so badly he barely went a day without fresh wounds. The fourth was Hunter, a lion beastman she'd mocked relentlessly, calling his beast form hideous and grotesque. The fifth was Jasper, a fox beastman whose face she'd scarred so badly he'd lost his consortium inheritance. "Protect me until I find my father," Maya told them, drawing her own blood, "and I'll give you what you need to break our bond." Caleb laughed bitterly. "Since when do you make deals instead of demands?" "Since we're all dead if we don't work together." But when survival depends on trust, can a torturer become a savior-or will her victims choose revenge over rescue?

Caryn lay trapped beneath concrete slabs in the apocalyptic ruins, a steel rebar pinning her down, the pressure unbearable. Her fiancé, Ford, knelt in the narrow gap above her, completely unharmed. "Sorry, babe. It's a new world. Survival of the fittest." He sneered, twisting the cap off their last bottle of purified water. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with a clean hand, and told her she would just waste it. He had manipulated her into signing over her uncle's house-her only defensible shelter-just to sell it for cash. Now, as a violent aftershock made the rubble groan and shift, Ford scrambled away without a single backward glance. For five brutal years of starvation and injury, she had clung to him and her grandmother's antique locket, only to meet her end betrayed and full of agonizing regret. Why had she been so foolish to trade her survival for a lie? A gasp of frigid air flooded her lungs, and her eyes flew open to a smooth, white ceiling. She wasn't in the dusty ruins; she was in her pristine silk bed sheets. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she stared at the date on the screen. It was exactly thirty days before the world would crack apart. She looked at the silver locket in her hand, a diamond-hard rage crystallizing in her chest. This time, she would activate its secret, and she would strip Ford and his family of everything before the apocalypse even began.

The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face – the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room. But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it. In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me. Chloe, Ethan's first choice, the woman he was supposed to marry, had returned. She feigned concern, using her 'wellness expertise' facade to get close. She then whispered poison in Ethan' s ear, painting me as a burden, before orchestrating my 'accident' – a fall that led to the tragic loss of my child, and soon after, my own broken, wasted death. I could still hear Chloe's voice, soft and venomous, as I lay bleeding: "You were always beneath us, Ava. Just in the way." That memory burned, a raw wound in my soul. The sheer injustice of their cruelty, the depths of their betrayal, still sent ice through my veins. How could I have been so naive, so easily discarded? The confusion, the despair from that past life resurfaced, potent and suffocating. But this time, I was ready. The knowledge wasn't a shroud, but a shield. I blinked, forcing a fragile smile. My new goal was clear, etched in the pain of my past: survive, protect my child, and utterly destroy them.

The air in the small living room was thick, heavy, mirroring the cold dread gripping my stomach. My father, Richard, cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding mine, avoiding my mother' s. "Emily, the papers are signed," he said, his voice flat. "It's done." He then looked at me and my younger sister, Jessica. "Girls, you need to decide. Who you want to live with." I was Sarah, and this was my second chance, my second life. The memories of the first one were branded into me. Jessica, beside me, shifted, her eyes holding a greedy flicker I recognized from before-she remembered a life she called poor, a life she hated. "I choose Dad," Jessica said, her voice far too quick, too eager. "Victoria will be pleased," Richard affirmed, a thin smile on his face. Victoria Sterling. The tech billionaire, my future stepmother, her name a scar. In my first life, she had chosen me. I remembered the endless lessons, the cold praise, the constant pressure to be perfect. She broke me down, piece by piece, until Jessica, twisted by Victoria' s influence, ended my life. No. Not again. My father urged me to be "sensible," to consider the "opportunities" Victoria offered. Jessica scoffed, "You're an idiot, Sarah. You want to stay in this dump? With her?" She chose the fire, thinking it was gold, unaware of the torment that awaited her. But I knew the price. I looked at my mother, her eyes full of pain, but also a quiet strength I hadn't truly seen before. This time, I would protect her. I would protect myself. "I choose Mom," I declared, my voice clear and firm, irrevocably altering the script of my reborn life.

Sarah Miller, with her uncanny gift of foresight, was a sensation. Her "Sarah Sees" livestream, broadcast from her humble Vermont farmhouse, brought comfort and answers to thousands. She was a rising star, a rare and authentic voice in the world of online spiritual guidance. But then, out of nowhere, an old childhood acquaintance, Jessica Evans, appeared. "Mystic Jess," she called herself, launching a strikingly similar channel. Whispers of Sarah being a "copycat" began, subtly fueled by Jessica and an influential local figure, Alex Peterson. The online comments turned vicious, branding Sarah a "fraud" and "liar." Her followers evaporated, her income vanished. The local community, once supportive, grew cold, and the stress bled into her family's life. Then came the vandalism, spray-painted threats, culminating in a confrontation that tragically led to her father's fatal heart attack. I watched my family shatter, my life ruined, all by someone who seemed to mimic my every move, even my private thoughts, always one step ahead. How could Jessica know what I was about to say or do before I even did it? My own gift, once so clear, became a dark, confusing static whenever I tried to foresee anything about Jessica or my grim future. It made no sense. Crushed by grief and public scorn, wishing for an end to it all, I closed my eyes. A snap, a void, then a gasp. I opened them to find sunlight streaming through my old bedroom window, my laptop waiting-showing the exact date I launched my first livestream. I was back. And I wouldn't let it happen again.

An MIT acceptance letter lay on my desk, a full-ride scholarship, my ticket to a dazzling future far from my foster home. But my foster father, Rufus, scoffed, his voice flat: "You're not going." Instead, he' d arranged a "tech internship" out West, promising big money and opportunities, while my foster mother, Sylvia, faked a panicked "premonition" about a bus crash to dissuade me. They were lying. I knew it. All of it. Because I had lived this day before, died a horrific death on a cold metal table, betrayed by the very people who claimed to be my family. This time, I was ready. I swallowed my fury, faked compliance, and prepared to rewrite my destiny.

Fresh from a C-section, my baby girl Lily safe in the nursery, I awaited my husband, Mark. He was the celebrated CEO of Innovatech, our startup, built on my algorithms, his stage presence. But his arrival brought no warmth, no questions about Lily. Instead, he presented divorce papers, flatly stating his intern, Chloe, was pregnant, and he needed to protect them. The words stung deeper than surgical pain, awakening a past life memory: refusing, then dying with Lily in a "car accident" Mark orchestrated. This time, I signed. Yet, the nightmare escalated: Chloe grabbed fragile Lily, taunting me by an open window. Mark, believing her lies, had me, bleeding, dragged from the hospital. Days later, seeking my belongings, he smashed a mirror over my head, abandoning me on our doorstep. The raw betrayal, his calculated erasure of my contributions-my intellect, my love, years poured into our company-returned only with cruelty. How could he be so utterly monstrous, so blind? But this was my second chance. My precious Lily was alive, needing me. Fueled by that agonizing past and his brutal abandonment, a cold, new resolve set in. I wouldn't just survive; his spectacular downfall would be my meticulous design.