Samuel Gray

Lyra endured a level-eight gene-tearing labor entirely alone in a cold, sterile medical pod. Her legal partner, the revered S-grade Commander Kaelen Vane, was nowhere to be found. Instead, the room's holographic screen broadcasted him spending ten million star coins to buy a smile from her adopted sister. As Lyra nearly died draining her mental energy to save their newborn cub, the nurses openly mocked her as a useless E-grade piece of trash. Kaelen had never touched her, treating her very existence with absolute disgust. When he finally called, it was only to throw money at her and demand she stop throwing a tantrum. "Without my protection, do you think you and that half-beast mutt will survive three days?" For a year, she had swallowed his psychological abuse, believing she was just an unwanted orphan. But why should she endure this pathetic, one-sided marriage just to be treated like dirt? When a routine blood test shattered the lab's max-level analyzer, the truth was revealed: she wasn't an E-grade failure, but the universe's only SSS-grade Starfall Princess. As her ultra-powerful royal family blockaded the planet with a fleet of star destroyers, Lyra took the divorce papers and her newly assigned S-grade dragon fiancé to the tribunal. It was time to make Kaelen watch his precious empire burn to ash.

Betrayed by her cheating fiancé J.C. and his mistress, Iris Henson dies in a car crash and wakes up 15 years earlier, on the day of her arranged marriage lottery. This time, she dodges J.C.'s rigged trap and makes the wildest choice possible: Kane Davenport, the ruthless, untouchable billionaire head of the family-J.C.'s own uncle. What Iris doesn't know? Kane has secretly pined for her for years. He put his own name in that lottery on purpose. He's been waiting for this chance to make her his, and he'll burn down anyone who tries to hurt what's his.

At the sacred Full Moon Ball, I was supposed to receive the moonstone necklace and become the future Luna alongside my fated mate, Crown Prince Edward. But in front of the entire pack, he snatched the necklace away and placed it around the neck of Cynthia, a low-tier Omega who cleaned the floors. "Her scent is softer. She has a gentle heart," he announced, before tossing a cheap silver hairpin at me as a deliberate insult. In my past life, I fought back. I used my noble family's power to force him to honor our engagement. But I didn't know that breaking an Alpha's pride was a death sentence. After we married, he let Cynthia starve me during my pregnancy and mix silver into my medicine, killing my unborn pup. When he took the throne, he falsely accused my family of treason, exiling my father and brothers to the frozen wastelands to die. He crippled my wolf with crushed silver, locking me in a damp dungeon where Cynthia eventually forced me to drink deadly wolfsbane. I coughed up black blood and died in agony, my family slaughtered and my dignity destroyed by the man I had loved. Opening my eyes, a violent wave of vertigo struck me. I was back at the exact moment Edward handed me that insulting silver hairpin. This time, I didn't shed a single tear. "I, Beatrice, reject you, Edward, as my mate," I declared calmly. I turned my back on the Crown Prince. In this life, I will marry his crippled uncle, Prince Arthur, and watch them lose everything.

Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World. But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!. When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair? The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.

A year ago, my husband Marco traded my life for a political alliance. I watched his mistress's taillights fade into the dark as the freezing waters of Lake Michigan swallowed me whole. They called my drowning a tragic accident and burned a fake body before anyone could demand an autopsy. Tonight, Marco is marrying that same mistress, Isabella, in a lavish ballroom filled with Chicago's underworld elites. They even conceived a child during my mourning period, a deadly sin in our traditional Mafia family. They thought I was rotting at the bottom of the lake, completely forgotten. But they didn't know I had survived, bleeding through brutal underground training just to crawl my way back. When the wedding venue plunged into darkness and a single spotlight hit me standing there in a white mourning gown, Marco dropped his glass. "Arabella? No... you're dead," he choked out, his face draining of blood. Isabella shrieked, looking like she had seen the devil himself. Did they really think a little water could wash away our sacred vows? They stole my life, my name, and my family, expecting me to stay a compliant ghost forever so they could secure their power. I smiled coldly as I handed the Mafia Don a decree of absolute protection from The Commission. I am Arabella Stark, and my vendetta only ends when they drown in their own blood.

I was the "diamond" of the Sargent Foundation, a perfect orphan polished for the cameras and high-society galas. But beneath the glittering chandeliers, I was suffocating. When the pressure finally broke me and I tried to flee the Sargent Gala, I wasn't met with comfort. I was hunted down by security and dragged into a sterile, white-hot spotlight in a room I was never allowed to enter. Adrien Sargent, the cold-blooded CEO who controlled my every move, didn't want to help me. He wanted to devour me. He presented a legal cage: sign over my voting shares for his unethical hostile takeover, or he would have my only friend—the elderly butler who raised me—killed in his nursing home bed. I became a prisoner in the East Wing, stripped of my phone and watched by hidden cameras. During a midnight storm, I tried to steal a security card to escape, but Adrien caught me in his study. Reeking of whiskey and corporate rage, he didn't just stop me. He pinned me to his desk and branded my neck with a bite so deep it bruised, treating me like a thief who deserved to be claimed. The next morning, the house turned into a battlefield of lies. His PR consultant tried to claim she was the one in his bed, but Adrien found a pearl button from my pajamas under his desk. He didn't feel guilt; he felt violated. He accused me of orchestrating the entire encounter to blackmail him, his eyes filled with a terrifying, possessive fury. When his grandmother caught us, she didn't see a victim; she saw a liability. To save the family stock price, she gave us an ultimatum: marriage. "I’ll do it," I said, looking at the massive diamond ring that felt more like a shackle. Adrien thought he had finally broken me, but he didn't know about the encrypted file I just received. The corporate crisis he’s fighting was an inside job, and the trail leads straight to his own front door. I looked at my new husband on our wedding night and let my silk dress hit the floor. He thinks he’s trapped a rabbit, but I’ve just gained total access to his world. I will sleep with the enemy, learn every dark secret he’s hiding, and then I am going to burn his empire to the ground.

I was the moral compass of modern media, a journalist with a flawless record and a penthouse life with my husband, Britton. Then one phone call shattered it all. He blackmailed me, using a dark secret I kept for him, forcing me to retract a story and destroy my own career to protect his intern, Baylee. The fallout was brutal. My reputation was ruined overnight. Fleeing the city, I was in a horrific car accident and woke up in the hospital to learn I'd had a miscarriage. The final blow came when I called him for help, only to hear his intern giggling in the background. The man I loved since we were kids, the one who swore to protect me, had orchestrated my ruin and cost me our child. He left me for dead at the bottom of a cliff. But he made one mistake: he didn't make sure I was dead. Pulled from the ocean by a mysterious stranger, I was reborn. Now, I'm coming back to reclaim everything he took-and make him pay.

After fifteen years of marriage, my husband finally noticed my nail polish. The shade was 'Midnight Iris.' It was also the favorite shade of his new assistant, Cheri. When I confronted him, Brennan called me ridiculous. "Maybe you should get a job," he sneered. "Stop obsessing over meaningless things." But the deepest cut came from my son, Bird. "You don't even do anything all day," he said, his words a mirror of his father's. "And Cheri is picking me up today. She's way more fun than you." Later, he texted, asking me to buy a birthday present for Cheri. My own birthday had been the week before. He hadn't even mentioned it. He hadn't forgotten. He just didn't care. I had been replaced in my own home, in my own son's heart. Before the tears could blind me, I sent a text to my lawyer. "I want to give up custody. Completely. I can't be a mother to a child who doesn't see me."

My boyfriend, Damien, chose a Vegas trip with his toxic best friend, Branden, over our relationship, ignoring my ultimatum that if he walked out, we were over. He walked. A week later, he was back, dangling a designer handbag as a peace offering. But while he was partying, I was in the ER with a severe, stress-induced anxiety attack. The final blow came when I saw Damien had 'liked' Branden' s social media post mocking my pain. He stood outside my apartment, laughing with Branden, calling me "dramatic" and "clingy," completely unaware I had already packed his entire life into boxes. "What... what is all this, Cecil?" he stammered, his face turning from shock to rage as he saw his belongings ready for the movers. "What have you done?" I looked him dead in the eye, my voice cold and steady. "We're over, Damien. So, are these boxes going to your place, or to Branden's?"

For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence. But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel. Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child. "But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless." The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. "She served her purpose," Dante said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A broodmare is only valuable when it can produce. After that…" He didn't have to finish. In his world, useless things are discarded. Violently. Every touch, every calculated smile had been a lie to secure his dynasty. He saw a legacy, not a child. He saw a vessel, not a wife. The only way to win his game was to knock the whole board over. I pulled out my phone and called the clinic my friend had told me about. "Yes," I said, my voice a stranger’s, hollow and steady. "I'd like to schedule a termination."

I stood at my mating ceremony, about to be joined with my pack's Beta, Brendan, under the watchful eye of the powerful Alpha King. But just as the rites began, Brendan abandoned me at the altar. He ran off into the woods for another woman—a fragile rogue named Marina he had taken in. He left me to face the humiliation alone. Then, a message came through the public leadership channel for all to hear. It was Brendan, announcing that Marina had attempted suicide and he couldn't leave her. He then had the audacity to command me to apologize to the Alpha King on his behalf for the "disruption." The man I had loved for six years, who had promised me forever just the night before, had traded my honor for a lie. He made me a laughingstock in front of the entire continent. That night, drowning my sorrow in a human bar, I ran into the Alpha King himself. Fueled by whiskey and heartbreak, I made a reckless offer. "He doesn't want me anymore," I slurred. "Alpha, do you want me tonight?" To my shock, he accepted. And in his arms, I discovered a stunning truth: the Alpha King, my ex-fiancé's uncle, was my true fated Mate. My revenge had just begun.

I, Selena Grant, was the most cherished daughter of the Grant family in Seaview City, a princess in all but name. Countless men longed to draw near, not for love, but for the status and glory that came with me. But men never interested me. My only passion was my work, and my ambition was to see my empire stretch across the globe. For a long time, I believed I would burn out in my relentless work, destined to grow old alone. Until the day I woke in a bathtub. From the phone came a voice, sharp with impatience, "Why aren't you dead already?" A stranger-a servant-told me I was married, and that I had degraded myself time and again, staging suicide attempts just to win a glance from this man. I didn't believe a word of it. I could be relentless for my work, but never for a man. I picked up the phone and glanced at hundreds of rejected call records and countless unsent messages, all beginning with the same desperate words, "I love you." In that instant, I believed it. A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared up at the ceiling. Although I had lost three years of memories from this marriage, anyone who dared to treat me with such contempt would not escape the consequences.

The plane landed, and Ethan Miller, world-renowned chef, felt the thrill of victory – the "Global Culinary Masters" trophy securely in his bag. He envisioned his fiancée, Sophia, and The Alchemist\'s Table, his restaurant that had just earned its third Michelin star. But joy turned to ice as two burly guards blocked his entrance, demanding an invitation to his own restaurant. Laughter and champagne clinked inside, and a video played on a loop, showing "Chef Ethan Miller," holding his trophy, kissing it for the cameras-but it wasn\'t him. The police arrived, called by the imposter, who claimed Ethan's ID was stolen. "The system says this ID was reported stolen two weeks ago. By Mr. Ethan Miller." They dragged him away, a man pleading, swearing he was the true Ethan. He saw the imposter, his doppelgänger, putting an arm around Sophia, who leaned into him with a look of pure love. "Who am I?" he whispered, as his world crumbled, every memory, every achievement, every relationship with his fiancée replaced. Humiliated, abandoned, and facing a life he no longer recognized, Ethan knew one thing: he had to reclaim his identity, no matter the cost.

I poured everything into him. As a struggling artist, I lived for Julian, my charming musician. I paid his bills, cooked his food, convinced myself our love was worth more than money. Then the black Escalades came. My Julian, the man I loved, was Julian Vance, a billionaire heir. He didn' t even look at me as his fixer handed me a check for $500,000, calling it a "thank you for your time." My world shattered. I tore the check, screamed my love wasn't for sale. I was a romantic idiot. To keep him, I leaked our story to the tabloids, forcing his family to make him marry me for appearances. The marriage was hell. Julian treated me with open disgust. His monstrous grandfather systematically dismantled my life, isolating me, sabotaging my art, whispering poisons until I questioned my sanity. The final blow: Julian on Page Six, laughing on a yacht with "his longtime companion," Serena. My "love story" was a brutal nightmare, my grand romance a calculated humiliation. The pain of betrayal, the sheer injustice, choked me. How could something so pure turn so monstrously toxic? I was a pawn. That night, in our cold, empty penthouse, I ended my life. But then, I woke up. Back in my tiny Brooklyn apartment. The day before I met Julian for the "first" time. This time, I knew the script. And this time, I wasn't here for love. I was here to collect.

I was eight months pregnant, heading to my parents' home for their "big news." I expected typical parental updates, maybe about retirement or a new hobby. Instead, my 55-year-old mother was significantly pregnant, too, chirping "Surprise!" My childhood bedroom was gone, replaced by a lavish nursery for my "miracle" baby brother, Jacob. Then came the demands: financial support for Jacob, and even my condo-the only real security I owned. They wanted me to fund their late-life child, whose existence they used as a weapon against me and my future firstborn son. I refused, reeling from their blatant greed and emotional blackmail. My mother's sweet tone turned to venom, threatening my husband Michael's successful career. She warned she'd accuse him of elder abuse at his tech firm if I didn't comply, claiming "family helps family." This was a new low, but it didn' t compare to what came next. My half-brother Jacob, whom they forced upon me, fell critically ill with leukemia. When I wasn't a match for a bone marrow donation, their demands turned monstrous. They tried to force my then three-year-old son, Leo, my own fragile child, to be tested. They spread lies online, publicly shaming me for "letting my brother die" by protecting my son. I exposed their wicked scheme, posting signed agreements that showed their manipulative nature. They retaliated with the unthinkable: they kidnapped my son, Leo, from preschool. They intended to force a marrow extraction from my toddler, claiming it was a "life-saving diagnostic procedure." That day, terror consumed me. My own parents had crossed an unforgivable line, sacrificing my child for their selfish, desperate obsession. I called the police, determined to rescue Leo and break free from their toxic grasp forever.

Sarah Miller had one shot: Northwood Academy, a world away from her cramped apartment and her dad' s pain-ridden reality. As a scholarship kid, navigating the gilded halls felt like walking a tightrope, especially with queen bee Tiffany Vanderbilt and her "Legacy Crew" constantly reminding her she didn' t belong. One evening, sweeping the school theater, I froze, hearing voices from the green room. Tiffany' s voice cut through the silence: "Chad and Brittany are useless… Ethan, it has to be you." My blood ran cold as I listened to them plot the "Charity Case Dare" -a twisted game where golden boy Ethan Hayes would wine and dine me, make me fall for him, then publicly break my heart right before graduation. It wasn't just bullying; it was a calculated psychological operation, a sport for their amusement. They wanted to see me weep, utterly destroyed. Their words, "charity case," echoed like a brand. Every petty cruelty, every snicker, now made sickening sense. How could people born with every privilege, every advantage, be so casually, viciously cruel? Didn' t they have souls? Was I just a disposable pawn in their endless pursuit of twisted entertainment? The injustice burned, a bitter bile rising in my throat. They thought they had me trapped, a helpless animal in their cruel game. But they were wrong. I wasn' t going to be their victim. I would play along, I would weaponize their arrogance, their resources, and their monstrous scheme. And when the final curtain fell, they wouldn' t know what hit them.

I woke up with a scream stuck in my throat. It was Chloe's eighteenth birthday – a day that should have been filled with joy, but instead, it felt like a chilling replay. My daughter, my sweet girl, was supposed to celebrate her coming of age. The nightmare wasn’t just a dream; it was a terrifying premonition of my past life, a future about to unfold. My own husband, Richard, methodically stripped us of everything: our fortune, our home, our very lives. He was poised to hand my family's legacy, down to Chloe's custom gown and heirloom jewels, to his fake orphaned relative, Amber, with his housekeeper Linda by his side. I remembered it all: Richard's icy declaration that I was "mentally unstable," Chloe's brave defense, the brutal scuffle that left her gravely injured, and finally, the staged car accident that stole our lives. Now, the phone rang, confirming the exact chilling details: Richard's assistant, demanding I present Amber with *the* Hayes family necklace. I saw the bruises on Chloe’s arm, forced to polish Amber’s shoes. How could this be happening again? The betrayal, the theft, the violence – it was too much. But this time, a fierce, cold rage ignited inside me. I was no longer the broken woman they had destroyed. As the assistant chirped about the necklace, I walked to the display case holding the fake pieces meant to placate me. With a heavy bronze statuette, I shattered the glass, then smashed the trinkets. "Tell Mr. Thorne," I commanded, "the original plan stands for Chloe's birthday." This time, history wouldn’t repeat. This time, I’d reclaim everything.

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."

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.

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.

After working herself to death, Hannah woke inside a werecreature novel as a doomed villainess with five mates her father had captured and forced into bonds. Worse, the original Hannah had abused them so badly they were destined to rebel and destroy her. Determined to survive, she planned to flee to her father, sever every bond, hoard supplies, and start over. But her escape took an impossible turn. The serpent, merman, lion, fox, and icy priest who should have hated her suddenly refused to let her go-each claiming her as his. Hannah could only stare. Weren't they supposed to want freedom instead of her?

Lyra endured a level-eight gene-tearing labor entirely alone in a cold, sterile medical pod. Her legal partner, the revered S-grade Commander Kaelen Vane, was nowhere to be found. Instead, the room's holographic screen broadcasted him spending ten million star coins to buy a smile from her adopted sister. As Lyra nearly died draining her mental energy to save their newborn cub, the nurses openly mocked her as a useless E-grade piece of trash. Kaelen had never touched her, treating her very existence with absolute disgust. When he finally called, it was only to throw money at her and demand she stop throwing a tantrum. "Without my protection, do you think you and that half-beast mutt will survive three days?" For a year, she had swallowed his psychological abuse, believing she was just an unwanted orphan. But why should she endure this pathetic, one-sided marriage just to be treated like dirt? When a routine blood test shattered the lab's max-level analyzer, the truth was revealed: she wasn't an E-grade failure, but the universe's only SSS-grade Starfall Princess. As her ultra-powerful royal family blockaded the planet with a fleet of star destroyers, Lyra took the divorce papers and her newly assigned S-grade dragon fiancé to the tribunal. It was time to make Kaelen watch his precious empire burn to ash.

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."

In the final days before the world collapsed, Ivy Brooks died... betrayed by the very people she trusted most. She had fought, struggled, and sacrificed everything just to survive the apocalypse only to be pushed into death along with her three daughters at the very end by her own husband. With her last breath, Ivy made a vow. If she could turn back time...she would never be weak again and of course protect her daughters. This time, she would stand at the top. When Ivy opened her eyes, she found herself back in time with her still rounded belly of her third baby.... Twenty days before the apocalypse. Armed with memories of the future and a mysterious system in her mind, Ivy moved without hesitation. She hoarded supplies, secured weapons, and took control of every resource she could get her hands on. While others laughed, doubted, and wasted time... Ivy was building her empire along with her daughters. In this life, she would not be prey but will be an hunter. With danger closing in and only twenty days to prepare, Ivy must outplay enemies both old and new, uncover the truth behind the system, and carve out her own kingdom in a collapsing world. Because this time...she wasn't just going to survive the apocalypse. She was going to rule it along with a man, a love interest from the past before her marriage collapse. He provided everything Ivy needed. Money especially in change of a marriage with her and when the apocalypse started too....he ruled it with her as well as her daughters.

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.