Rabbit

"Anya, a 'wolfless' in a world of powerful werewolves, was invisible, drowning her sorrows and desperately lonely. One drunken text, a desperate cry for attention, accidentally reached the Alpha, pulling her into his terrifying orbit. Now, she's trapped, a pawn in his game, forced to warm his bed while he waits for his true mate, her heart breaking with every stolen moment. As a 'wolfless' in the Blackwood Pack, Anya felt like an outsider, always yearning for a connection. One night, in a drunken haze, a misdirected text meant for her best friend landed in Alpha Declan Blackwood's inbox: ""Send me something hot."" Minutes later, the most powerful, terrifying man in the Pack stood at her door, claiming her with a possessive kiss that ignited a dangerous, unwanted fire. The next morning, his cold indifference shattered her world. Publicly humiliated and instantly fired, Anya became a pariah. Her dying mother's urgent need for a million-dollar heart transplant left her with an impossible choice: accept the Alpha's cold, transactional marriage proposal or watch her mother die. She became his ""placeholder"" wife, a contract, not a partner, all while battling a confusing attraction to the man who treated her as property. Why did he demand her, only to remind her constantly of her worthlessness, especially when everyone knew he waited for his true mate? Her world crumbled when she overheard Declan tell his returning ""true mate,"" Kristin Larsen, that Anya was ""just a substitute."" Despite the crushing betrayal and a strange, unyielding pull, Anya, fueled by her mother's desperate need, vowed to survive this gilded cage and reclaim her life before she lost herself completely."

The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.

For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.

For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

For my entire life, I believed my Alpha, Kaelen, was my fated mate. A sacred gift from the Moon Goddess. But on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, he presented another she-wolf, Seraphina, as his chosen Luna, using a borrowed pup in a cruel plot to crush my spirit. When Rogues attacked our pack, a silver chandelier fell towards us. Kaelen lunged past me without a glance, shielding Seraphina with his own body while I was left to be crushed. He never even looked back. Later, after falsely accusing me of hurting her, he dragged my injured body to an ice-cold hydrotherapy pool and shoved me under the water. As I struggled to breathe, he loomed over me, his voice a roar of command. "If you ever touch her again, I will strip you of your name and make you Rogue." Watching the man I loved try to kill me, the last of my hope finally turned to ash. That night, I accepted an offer to join the Silverwood Pack. Then, I walked to the forge and tossed every memento he'd ever given me into the flames, watching the girl who loved him burn away forever.

Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins-a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."

After seven years in a dungeon for a crime I didn't commit, my fated mate, the Alpha who let them drag me away, finally opened my cell door. He announced I would take my place as his Luna, not out of love, but because the law demanded it. But the moment a frantic mind-link came through that his precious Seraphina-my adopted sister, the one who framed me-was having trouble breathing, he abandoned me without a second glance. That night, huddled in a dusty shack, I overheard my own parents' secret conversation. They were planning to have me exiled. Permanently. My return had upset Seraphina, and her "weak heart" couldn't take the shock. I lay there in the darkness, feeling nothing. Not surprise. Not even pain. Just a profound, empty coldness. They were casting me out. Again. But as they plotted my exile, a secret message arrived for me-an offer of escape. A new life in a sanctuary far to the north, where I could leave the Blackmoon Pack behind forever. They thought they were getting rid of me. Little did they know, I was already gone.

Melanie had been in a secret relationship with her best friend's brother, Ethan, for five years, and finally, he agreed to make it public. Her best friend excitedly called to confirm, "Melanie, I can't believe my brother's sweetheart is you..." Just as she was about to nod, she heard her friend say, "Half-sister? I thought he would like you." That single sentence hit Melanie like a ton of bricks. In a frenzy, she rushed to the company to confront Ethan for clarification. Unexpectedly, she overheard him confessing his deep feelings to his half-sister. "Rosalyn, you're the only one I love," he declared. "Marrying her was just to protect you. Keeping her nearby ensures she won't dig into her mother's accident and won't harm you!" Upon discovering the truth, Melanie decided to accept the marriage to turn the tables on him. However, after obtaining the marriage certificate, she realized she might have married the wrong person... Before she could regret it, Ethan's rival, swept her into his arms. "You think you can just up and leave after tying the knot?"

I arrived at the Blackwood Pack House as the bride in an arranged marriage, a political pawn meant to secure an alliance with their Alpha, Grayson Wilder. His family treated me like trash from the moment I walked in. His sister then deliberately sent me to the wrong room-the Alpha's private chambers. When Grayson found me in his bed, he didn't ask questions. He shoved me to the floor, his eyes glowing with rage as he accused me of being a social climber trying to trap him. His mother and sister watched from the doorway, their faces alight with triumph, ready to see me torn apart. They had no idea I was there to save them, a secret deal made with the elders to prevent their pack from collapsing. I was the one with the power, hiding my true identity for their sake, yet they treated me like a stray dog who had wandered into their pristine home. But when he truly looked at me, his rage faltered, replaced by shocked recognition. He saw a ghost from a past he couldn't remember. And I knew this war wasn't just for my survival, but for a truth he was terrified to face.

Due to my family's expectations and obligations, I married Colton in place of my half-sister, Shirley. Eight years later, Shirley, who avoided an arranged marriage, returned to the country, and my husband Colton asked for a divorce. Coincidentally, as my mother was critically ill, I rushed to the hospital, only to unexpectedly collide with my secret admirer. Upon learning about my divorce, he began courting me with genuine determination. After the divorce, I restarted my career and worked diligently to achieve my career goals with newfound support. He offered unwavering support and encouragement, helping me steadily progress. Meanwhile, Colton, who had once insisted on divorcing me, began to regret his decision.

Damien Hayes was a workaholic, and as an illegitimate son who had clawed his way to the top, he seemed to care about nothing but Hayes Realty. For three years of marriage, Lydia Carter had always been waiting for him. She waited during dates, waited on anniversaries, waited for prenatal checkups, and even waited for the surgical abortion. What she finally received was a livestream of Damien throwing an extravagant birthday celebration for another woman. Devastated, she was caught in a chain car accident, convincing Damien that she had died with the wreck. Yet Lydia survived against all odds and unexpectedly became the sole heir of the world's richest man. The moment she set foot back on her homeland, she swore she would make Damien taste a pain sharp enough to pierce the heart.

I woke up in a bed of Egyptian cotton with a jackhammer headache and the naked CEO of my company sleeping beside me. I was a low-level analyst who had accidentally texted the world's most ruthless billionaire instead of my crush. Now, Sebastian Sterling wasn't just my boss-he was the man who owned my debt, my marriage, and a secret that was currently burning us both alive. He forced me into a cold-blooded marriage contract, trading my mother's life-saving medical bills for a year of my life as his trophy wife. I thought I was just a pawn in his corporate war against his ex-fiancée, but the tattoo over his heart-0825-held the date of the fire that destroyed my childhood and killed my peace. He hadn't just found me; he had been watching me from the shadows since I was twelve. He built a fortress of money and lies around me, manipulating my every move while his family tried to have me erased. When they finally targeted my mother and my son, I realized I couldn't just be a victim anymore. I fled to the industrial slums of Newark, erasing my identity to hunt down the ledgers that could put his family behind bars. But Sebastian didn't let me go; he stripped off his suits and checked out of his penthouse to follow me into the grime. Now, he's posing as a low-life driver named Ben, watching over me from a beat-up SUV while I infiltrate a criminal syndicate. He thinks he's my guardian angel, but I'm the one holding the match that will either save his empire or burn it to the ground.

To have a child with her husband, who had fertility issues, she agreed to undergo in vitro fertilization. However, she inadvertently discovered that she had been used as a means to have a child by her husband and his mistress. The embryos used in the procedure had been swapped by her husband, replacing them with his sperm and the mistress's egg. Devastated by the betrayal, she decided to go to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy. Yet, the doctor revealed an unexpected twist: due to a nurse's mistake, the child she was carrying was actually hers and that of a stranger. And this stranger turned out to be the mafia leader! Thus began a series of unforeseen complications.

My husband, Rodger Hayes, was a renowned chief negotiator, famous for his integrity and firmness within the circle. When my son and I were kidnapped, with three hostages at the scene, the kidnappers agreed to release only one. Among the women and the boy, Rodger should have chosen to save the boy first. Yet, I heard him saying in Spanish fluently, "Release the woman in white." His first love, Jolene Chapman, was freed, while my son, Jacob Hayes, died from a gunfire. Later, Rodger explained the situation flatly. "The kidnappers chose to release Jolene." I cradled Jacob's ashes and smiled sadly. Rodger didn't know that I was fluent in Spanish, as I had been a special forces member. His lies crumbled before me. My phone vibrated, and I confirmed the encrypted message. "Falcon returns to base."

I had been married for three years and never realized that my husband, Erik Hayes, had a mistress he held dear to his heart until I received an anonymous email one day. It contained a video where he and his mistress, Mia Dixon, were making love passionately for the whole night. Afterwards, he said to Mia, "I wish it were you carrying my baby. Just thinking that Doreen is having my baby makes me sick and makes me want to throw up." Later, everything went as he wished, but he lost his mind.

At my father's wedding reception, my new stepmother demanded I give her the sapphire necklace my mother left me when she died. I told her no. So she had her enforcer throw me to the floor in front of two hundred guests. He ripped the chain from my neck, shattering my mother's gemstone on the marble floor. When my childhood maid, Arlene, tried to protect me, he kicked her so hard her head cracked open against a stone pillar. My father, a New York mob boss, saw the whole thing and did nothing but laugh with his new bride. Any love I had for my family bled out on that floor with Arlene. That night, I found Damien Flynn, my father's sworn enemy. I was supposed to be my father's greatest asset-a virgin daughter to be sold for an alliance. I decided to burn that asset to the ground.

“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nelson’s true identity, Carlos Hilton cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Hilton, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.

This was the ninth time I had discovered women's clothing in my husband Carl Wade's storage cabinet that didn't belong to me. Each time, he brushed it off with excuses like "holding it for a colleague" or "a friend's prank," then hugged me tenderly and apologized. This time, what I found was a set of baby clothes. He still smiled and explained, "A new intern at the company is struggling financially. I'm just helping her out." I nodded and gently straightened his tie. "You're always so kind," I said. "Then let's go help her together right now." The smile on his face froze. Before he could come up with a new lie, I had already pulled him out the door and headed straight to the apartment across the hall. I knocked on the neighbor's door. The door opened, and our beautiful neighbor who had recently moved in and claimed to be single stood there holding a crying baby. She wore the exact same style of dress that had appeared in my husband's storage cabinet before. I smiled and looked at my husband's ashen face. "Honey, look how wonderful fate is. The intern you mentioned from the company turns out to live right across from us."

I waited desperately for three years for my lifeline of hope, only to discover that my husband, Vincent, planned to give it to his mistress who was carrying his child. It was then I realized that the unwavering love over those three years was nothing but a heartfelt deception. I didn't want anything to do with this tainted man anymore. But I must seize my life back with my own hands. I erased every trace of myself from my past and dialed a number I hadn't called in ages: "Auntie, take me away. I want to survive." Yet when I rose from the ashes, transformed, the man who had personally pushed me into hell was tormented by regret, slipping into insanity.

As the New Year's dinner concluded and we prepared to leave, Miranda Wells, the manager, blocked my path and forced me to pay the bill. I firmly refused, but Miranda was tough. "I am doing you a favor by asking you to pay the bill! Who in this country would dare to defy anyone from the Harris family? Do you have a death wish?" She sneered, rolling up her sleeves and pointing at me before I spoke. "Do you know who I am? Nikolas Harris, the CEO of the Harris Group, is my husband! I am Mrs. Harris!" I was stunned. I was married to Nikolas, so why was Miranda claiming to be his wife? In the next moment, I called Nikolas at the spot. "Why am I unaware that you have another wife?"

For five years, I was the perfect husband to a woman who didn't love me. It was a contract. I was hired to help the broken heiress, Jorja Romero, heal after her fiancé left her. In return, her family funded my art, but the price was my dream-a scholarship to study painting in Paris. With only two months left on our contract, the man she never got over came back. Overnight, the fragile peace we'd built vanished, and I became invisible. At dinner, a sizzling platter of fajitas fell towards her. I threw my arm out to block it, the scalding metal searing my skin. Jorja barely glanced at my blistering arm. Instead, she rushed to her ex-fiancé, Cale, panicking over a single drop of hot oil that had splattered on his finger. On my birthday a week later, she tossed me a tube of burn cream-the same one she'd obsessively bought for Cale's tiny red mark. At a party, she took the cufflinks she once gifted me and told Cale they'd look much better on him. I had spent five years memorizing her favorite foods, comforting her through nightmares, and being her constant, silent shadow. I thought my devotion might one day be enough. But I was wrong. I wasn't her husband; I was a placeholder. The night before her engagement party to Cale, she stumbled into my room, drunk. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. Then she whispered the name that destroyed the last piece of my heart. "Cale... I missed you so much." In that moment, something inside me didn't just break; it was reborn in ice. The next morning, I handed her the divorce papers she would sign without reading, and booked my one-way ticket to Paris.

On the eve of the wedding, I accidentally touched the dashcam in the car of my fiancé, Tobias Ford. I heard his heavy breathing, and His bare back dominated the screen. I blushed instantly. He and I both enjoyed the thrill and often had sex in the car, so I felt a bit embarrassed to watch the replay. But the next moment, I froze. A female voice, not mine, rang out. "Honey, how much longer do we have to put up with that silly woman? I'm pregnant now." Tobias said with a chuckle, "As soon as the wedding is over and I trick her into handing over her family's assets, I will divorce her. I've already transferred her apartment to me. She plans to live there with me after we get married. It'll be our home from now on." As the scene intensified, the woman hidden in his embrace finally showed her face. It was my best friend, Stacey Sanderson. They were holding hands and wearing the matching rings I'd picked out. The timestamp in the corner showed it was the evening of two days ago.

y mother was in the hospital after a nasty dog bite, so I called my fiancé, Cohen. He was supposed to be my rock. Instead, I got annoyance. He was in Aspen, on a ski trip with my best friend, Hillary. "What do you want me to do? Fly back right now?" he snapped, before hanging up to get back to the "perfect snow." The dog, it turned out, was Hillary's. The bite on my diabetic mother's leg quickly developed into a raging infection. I texted Cohen an update, telling him she was getting worse, that they were talking about surgery. He didn't call back. Instead, Hillary's Instagram story updated: a photo of her and Cohen, cheeks flushed from the cold, smiling in front of a fireplace. The caption was a single heart emoji. While they were sipping hot chocolate, my mother went into septic shock. As I sat alone in the grim hospital waiting room, staring at my silent phone, I knew he had already made his choice. He had chosen a vacation. He had chosen my best friend. He had left my mother to die all alone. She passed away at 3:17 AM. I held her hand until it grew cold, then walked out into the gray dawn. I wasn't just grieving. I was done. I was going to erase myself from his world and burn everything to the ground.

After five years of marriage, my husband is always absent on my birthday. No gifts, no blessings. He said, "I've given you the money, buy whatever you want." But he started preparing for Fiona's birthday half a month in advance. He said, "She's different, she only has me." As the sole survivor of a unexpected fire, he has been heartbroken for over a decade. Watching Fiona in Moments holding a cake and kissing his face. I slowly commented. 【Just this useless person, I'm giving him to you.】

My husband, Roger Harvey, was a renowned top-tier lawyer in the industry, but he could never remember anything outside of his cases. He never remembered my birthday or our wedding anniversary. Every night he stood at the bedroom door and asked politely yet distantly, "Is this the one?" He could not even remember my name or what I looked like. To make him "remember" me, I hung our wedding photo on the wall with a label underneath. "Anniversary: May 20." I put a nameplate on the bedroom door that read "Bedroom." I even labeled everything in the house with sticky notes that explained in detail how to use each item and its background. I thought it was a side effect of his high-pressure job, so I never complained. That changed the day a multi-car pileup sent both me and his childhood friend, Sylvie Gordon, into the emergency room at the same time. He rushed frantically to Sylvie's bedside and shouted in a clear, urgent voice, "She has tachycardia. She caught a cold last month but no fever." The nurse handling the rescue grabbed him and asked, "Sir, your wife is also seriously injured. Does she have any medical history or allergies?" He turned his head, looked at me covered in blood, and shook his head blankly. "I don't remember." In that moment I finally understood. He was not forgetful. His memory was astonishingly sharp. He simply reserved that precise, precious memory for someone else. Everything about me he had never cared to keep in his heart. This was a dramatic tug-of-war between love and betrayal. It was a heart-wrenching journey of self-redemption. Yet when I decided to leave, he was suddenly filled with panic...

Everyone in Kaelton envied me for the three elite young people my parents adopted, who treated me like a queen. Rodger Burton spent millions to light up the city with fireworks for the whole night to celebrate my birthday. Larry Burton planted roses throughout the estate to make me happy. Ethan Burton crafted a unique ring just for me with his rib to prove his sincerity. I was overjoyed, believing myself to be the happiest woman in the world. But when I accidentally ate a cake containing peanuts and nearly went into shock, I overheard the three guys whispering to Cailey Kirk, the daughter of the servant, Vida Kirk, in the hospital corridor. "Don't be afraid. She is merely allergic and went into shock. It is just a lesson for her." "Isn't she allergic to peanuts? We doubled the amount in the cake to punish her so that she would never have the guts to show off in front of you again." "Relax. She won't die. We just wanted to teach her a lesson for upsetting you." I stood in the shadows, and my heart turned cold. I nearly lost my life, but it was just the three guys' cruel joke to win Cailey over. Looking at the emergency medication Jayden Price had sent to my bedside, I wiped my tears and called my father, Huxley Burton. "I'll marry Jayden, despite his scars."

Eleanor Vance had spent a lifetime trying to earn her family's love, offering them her heart, her talent, and her quiet devotion. But on Cassandra's birthday, her peace offering was met with a vicious lie and a stinging slap across the face. In that single, shattering moment, Eleanor realized she had been buying tickets to a bus that would never come, and something inside her snapped. Her adopted sister, Cassandra, always commanded their parents' adoration, leaving Eleanor a perpetual shadow. So when Cassandra theatrically dropped Eleanor's painstakingly restored emerald brooch, blaming her, Eleanor's mother, Vivian, lashed out with a stinging slap. Her father, Robert, coldly demanded an apology, choosing a manipulator's tears over his own daughter's truth. The familiar ache in Eleanor's chest confirmed their twisted love was not for her. A quiet, terrifying resolve settled within her. She knelt, not in humility, but with chilling purpose, tossed the emerald brooch into the roaring fireplace. ""You don't deserve it,"" she stated, devoid of warmth. Later, from a hidden compartment, she pulled out a sleek, black burner phone. ""It's time,"" Eleanor whispered. ""Initiate Phase One. Prepare the assets.""

On the day Izabella Dobson learned she was two months pregnant, she was also diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. Sitting in the taxi, the doctor's words echoed in her ears again. "Miss Dobson, your body is weaker than most. An abortion now would accelerate the cancer. You have only three months left. Why not go home and discuss chemotherapy with your family? You're still so young..." Izabella folded the report and slipped it into a hidden compartment in her bag. She let out a soft, bitter laugh. Ever since her father pressured her into a marriage of convenience with Carson's brother, a terminally ill man, for familial obligations, she had lost her family. Her husband had long passed away, and Carson harbored a deep-seated resentment towards her. As revenge, he publicly declared he would marry her stepsister. He was eager to witness her suffering, waiting for her to express regret. Yet, little did he know that on their wedding day, Izabella, frail and serene, lay in her hospital bed with her eyes gently closing. Carson, we can finally release each other from this pain...

The day my life ended began in my flower shop. A man who looked like a storm in a bespoke suit kicked in the door, his Alpha power so strong it felt like gravity doubling. He called me Fiona. He didn't listen when I told him my name was Scarlett. He dragged me to City Hall and forced me to sign a marriage license, making me the bride of Kaelen Blackwell, the most ruthless Alpha in North America. He told me I was a replacement for the woman who'd abandoned him, a coward whose betrayal was killing his grandmother. He hauled me to a gothic manor that felt more like a prison. The heart monitor by his grandmother's bed was already flatlining. "She dies," my new husband growled, "you die with her." My mind screamed. I was a florist engaged to a man I loved. I'd never seen these people before. Why did this monster think I was his runaway bride? Why did my own wolf feel a traitorous pull every time he was near? As the monitor let out one long, final beep, Kaelen's brother began talking about who would take over. The sharks were circling, and I was just another loose end to be cut. But they didn't know my secret. They saw a useless Omega, not the healer. I stepped forward. "I can save her."

In the fifth year of Irene Shaw's marriage to Ethan Hart, he was involved in a car accident and lost his memory. No matter how she tried to prove that they had once loved each other, Ethan still insisted on a divorce. His reasoning was hard to refute. "If I really loved you as much as you claim, how could I forget you?" The childhood sweetheart who had once cut him off without hesitation had now become his sole emotional anchor. He looked at Irene coldly. "Since you know this is a mistake, why not end it cleanly?" The hands that had once refused to let her go now recoiled from even her lightest touch. Disheartened and exhausted, Irene signed her name and pushed him completely out of her life. Not long after, Ethan stopped her in the rain, his eyes red from crying. "Irene, don't leave me. You said I'd never lose you." As the car window slid shut, the arm around her waist tightened instinctively, and someone spoke before she could. "Drive on. Irene said she doesn't know him." She lowered her gaze, feeling a serene detachment, "I really don't know him."

Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts. The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage. I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter. But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous. Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared. He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground. With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes. "Take me with you."

On New Year's Eve, Aria Hart watched Julian Lawson come home with an eighteen-year-old model on his arm. Her fingers tightened around the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis, while he mocked her without even blinking. "If I'm not marrying her, what, you think I should marry you?" Aria had given him ten full years, only to be repaid with the news that Julian was going to marry someone else. This time, she neither argued nor fought. After calling the hospital and agreeing to go abroad for treatment, she quietly disappeared. She thought it would end cleanly there, but after Aria left, Julian completely lost his mind. He ran from his wedding in front of everyone, put all his work on hold, and searched for her across the world. Eventually, he found information about Aria at the hospital. The nurse frowned. "Are you her family member?" Julian nodded urgently. "I'm her husband!" The nurse shook her head. "That's impossible. She said she has no family member. And she isn't here anymore."

She was a world-famous biologist of extraordinary genius, while he was the privileged heir to an elite family, renowned for his unmatched intellect and headline-making achievements. She deliberately pursued him, treating their union as a calculated, high-stakes gamble to bear a child inheriting his brilliant mind and superior genes. With her objective fulfilled, she planned to vanish without a trace, severing every tie. But he met her with a cold, mocking smile. "Leave whenever you like. But the child stays with me." He initially dismissed her as a penniless opportunist-until he learned she was no ordinary woman, but a rare, coveted treasure chased by the world's elite. In reality, she ruled a billion-dollar empire as its mysterious CEO, wielded mysterious healing powers, and stood as an acclaimed global researcher whose work inspired awe. Amid all her hidden layers, he was well aware of one thing-he would never agree to a divorce.