rabbi

Five years ago, Bettina Rowe was wounded in her abdomen to save Asher Lambert, which caused her not to get pregnant. Asher had told her that he would never want a baby. But he eventually entertained the idea of surrogacy. He chose Betsy Sugden, a college student who resembled Bettina, to give birth to his baby. Asher didn't know that Bettina had already decided to divorce him when he brought up that idea.

I was arranging lilies for my engagement party when the hospital called. A dog bite, they said. My fiancé, Salvatore Moretti, was supposed to be in Chicago on business. But he answered my frantic call from a ski slope in Aspen, with the sound of my best friend, Sofia, laughing in the background. He told me not to worry, that my mother’s injury was just a scratch. But when I got to the hospital, I learned it was Sofia’s unvaccinated Doberman that had attacked my diabetic mother. I texted Sal that her kidneys were failing, that they might have to amputate. His only reply: “Sofia is hysterical. She feels terrible. Calm her down for me, okay?” Hours later, Sofia posted a photo of Sal kissing her on a ski lift. The next call I got was from the doctor, telling me my mother’s heart had stopped. She died alone, while the man who swore to protect me was on a romantic vacation with the woman whose dog killed her. The rage inside me wasn't hot; it turned into a block of ice. I didn't drive back to the penthouse he gave me. I went to my mother’s empty house and made a call I hadn't made in fifteen years. To my estranged father, a man whose name was a ghost story in Salvatore’s world: Don Matteo Costello. “I’m coming home,” I told him. My vendetta wouldn’t be one of blood. It would be one of erasure. I would dismantle my life here and disappear so completely, it would be as if I had never existed.

Five years ago, Bettina Rowe was wounded in her abdomen to save Asher Lambert, which caused her not to get pregnant. Asher had told her that he would never want a baby. But he eventually entertained the idea of surrogacy. He chose Betsy Sugden, a college student who resembled Bettina, to give birth to his baby. Asher didn't know that Bettina had already decided to divorce him when he brought up that idea.

My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child. Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby. To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner. They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his. The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused. But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.

For ten years I planned our dream wedding-over and over-while my CEO fiancé Kody Morgan found ways to miss every single one. Ever since Tonya Buckley, his childhood sweetheart, returned to the country, my wedding had become a ticking time bomb. She caused a scene on the eve of my wedding, and Kody always stood me up. This last time, Tonya cut her finger, and a few drops of blood spilled dramatically. Kody anxiously ran red lights, risking everything to rush her to the ER, insisting the doctor check her carefully. Meanwhile, I faced the guests' derisive stares and received only Kody's dismissive excuse. "Does it have to be today? We've canceled the wedding so many times already, let's reschedule for next weekend. Tonya passes out at the sight of blood, so I need to stay with her. I really hope you understand." He reminisces about their childhood bond, granting Tonya every request, while neglecting me. Actually, I didn't have to marry him. When his absence became a pattern, I chose a man who'd actually appear.

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.

In order of priority, For Jayda Wright, her work comes first, She comes second, her best friend and family comes third and then her so-called boyfriend comes fourth. She didn't know she was losing her boyfriend at the expense of putting her job first. He finally broke up with her the day she got promoted as a partner in a reputable law firm. That night, Jayda made her way to a bar where she met Sebastian Miller, The multimillionaire with the worst personality but incredibly sexy. She had a one night stand with him, creating a bond that binds them forever!

My husband stood me up on the biggest night of my career—my first solo art exhibition. I found him on the news, shielding another woman from a storm of cameras while the entire gallery watched my world collapse. His text was a final, cold slap in the face: "Kacie needs me. You'll be fine." For years, he'd called my art a "hobby," forgetting it was the foundation of his billion-dollar company. He had made me invisible. So I called my lawyer with a plan to use his arrogance against him. "Make the divorce papers look like a boring IP release form," I told her. "He'll sign anything to get me out of his office."

While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son. Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate. An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir. Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack. Dante didn’t even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her. He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall. Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me. I heard him promise her, “Soon, my love. I’ll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve.” The love I felt for him, the power I’d hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice. He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent. And I was finally going home.

Ten days before my wedding, I learned my fiancé-the man who swore to heal my abandonment issues-was cheating for a "final taste of freedom." His betrayal cost me our unborn child, and then he had the audacity to beg me to give my blood to save his mistress's life. He expected to see me walking down the aisle, but I planned a different kind of show: a wedding gift that would be his public execution.

My husband, Blake Wallace, was a hero who sacrificed his motocross career to save my life. His vow-"I can't lose Ellen Strong once"-was famous across the city, the cornerstone of our marriage. Then a charlatan mystic named Celesta entered our lives. The man I loved was replaced by a monster who worshipped her, forcing me to become her servant in my own home. He stood by as she humiliated my father to death on our marble floor. He forced me to become her living organ bank, having my kidney removed without my consent while I was unconscious. He even let her desecrate my father's grave, pouring his ashes on the ground for her new puppy to lick. The love I had for him died with my father, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. The hero who once saved me was gone, leaving a man who would threaten my father's grave to keep me in line. So when Celesta handed me a plane ticket for a "pilgrimage," I saw my chance. I faked my own death. The world believes Ellen Strong died in a plane crash. Five years later, my billionaire ex-husband, consumed by guilt, finally discovered the truth. He found me.