On our tenth wedding anniversary, Song Ming looked at me affectionately.
On our tenth wedding anniversary, Song Ming looked at me affectionately.
Kory and I were college sweethearts, together from school uniforms to wedding vows.
Our tenth wedding anniversary fell on that day, and I always believed our bond was strong.
But he chose that moment to say, "Aria, let's get a divorce."
My eyes widened in disbelief.
A divorce? Now? On our anniversary?
"Kory, why would you want a divorce out of nowhere? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you've been great. I'm just bored."
Bored? That was his excuse to dismiss me?
I pressed, unwilling to let it go. "Why? You owe me a reason."
He stared at me for a moment, his face hardening as he began to criticize. "All these years, I've covered every expense. In over a decade of marriage, you never once offered to work. I toil all day and just want to come home to rest, but you can't even manage basic housework."
His words stunned me.
He was the one who insisted I shouldn't work, saying he didn't want me to suffer in a job.
And I wasn't truly a stay-at-home wife. Besides caring for my mom, I wrote novels online and earned my own income.
"Kory, I do work. I contribute to this family just like you." I defended myself.
He scoffed. "That pittance you earn from writing? I wouldn't take it if you begged me. Look at yourself. You don't even resemble a refined lady. I'm embarrassed to be seen with you."
I was at a loss for words, but I understood. When a man started nitpicking your appearance, he likely had someone else.
So I asked directly, "Are you seeing someone else?"
Kory seemed ready to lay it all bare and admitted, "Yes, Stella is gentle and caring. She's far better than you. She's a modern woman, independent and graceful, not like you, always asking me for money. Any man would know who to choose. Plus, she's pregnant."
Pregnant?
My chest tightened, and I clenched my fists, barely controlling my voice. "Kory, didn't we agree to be childfree?"
"That was your idea. I've always wanted kids. You just refused to have them. If you won't give me a child successful, plenty of women will."
"But Kory, if you wanted kids, why didn't you talk to me? Couldn't we have discussed it?"
"I've been poking holes in the condoms for years. It's your body that's the problem."
His words left me reeling.
Was this the same charming, considerate husband I remembered?
"Are you sure it's me who can't conceive?" I asked through gritted teeth.
But Kory, impatient, cut me off. "My lawyer will come by tomorrow. Pack your things and leave. Don't worry, I won't leave you with nothing after all these years."
"Kory, you're in that much of a rush?"
"Honestly, I can't stand looking at you anymore."
Without hesitation, I stepped forward and slapped him, my hand stinging from the force.
"Kory, don't regret this!"
"I won't!"
His confidence was unshakable. I grabbed my bag, which held his infertility diagnosis, and left without looking back.
One year into marriage, Yvonne realized she was nothing more than a substitute for someone else's memory. When his true love reappeared, Julian tossed a divorce contract her way. "She's back. We're finished," he said flatly. The secret of her pregnancy stayed hidden. Yvonne fought the urge to cry, signed her freedom, and disappeared. Five years on, cameras flashed as Yvonne, radiant in red, strode across a film festival stage with her bright-eyed son. Julian's hands clenched as he watched. "Sir, the boy's four and a half," whispered his shaken assistant. Then, he rushed to the film set only to witness an A-list actor gently wrapping his arm around Yvonne's waist. "I've booked your favorite restaurant for tonight's celebration." The little boy blinked his innocent eyes at Julian, asking, "Who are you? One of my mom's crazy admirers?" He cornered her in the dressing room, his voice hoarse as he said, "Let's remarry." Her lips curled slightly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "The curtain's down; it's time to end this scene." But this time, he wasn't letting go.
She came to survive. He was born to rule. Fate made them mates. And that's where the nightmare began. Evangeline has spent her whole life on the edge, unwanted, unclaimed, and surviving in the shadows of Crescent Moon Pack. A omega by blood and an outcast by choice, she's learned to keep her head down and her scars hidden. But when her dying uncle asks her to enroll at Blackclaw Academy, a school built on bloodlines, brutality, and unforgiving rules..... she agrees. For him, not for herself. She expected whispers. Glares. Even cruelty. What she didn't expect was Ronan Nightbane. The future Alpha. Cold. Untouchable. Worshipped. Feared. And the one the Moon Goddess bound her soul to. Being his mate should've meant protection. Belonging. Destiny. But Ronan wants none of it. He rejects her in front of the entire academy. Mocks her. Marks her as nothing more than a mistake. A threat. A girl born of nothing, who means even less. But Evangeline? She doesn't break. Not for him. Not for anyone. Because the power buried inside her was never meant to be found. The truth behind her blood could burn the entire pack system to the ground. And Ronan, no matter how hard he fights it.... can't stay away. Their bond is poisonous. Addictive. Dangerous. And when war creeps closer and secrets claw their way into the light, he'll have to make a brutal choice: Reject her... or ruin them both.
Once, Sabrina trusted the wrong man and paid for it with her life, dragging down the only person who ever tried to help her. Fate offered her a rare reset, and this time, she pledged herself to Theo-the savior she had overlooked before. A partnership for convenience blossomed into something fierce, with Theo showing her tenderness she never expected. Revenge became her mission while he quietly shielded her. When their pact neared its end, Theo blocked her exit, whispering, "You're leaving me?" She faltered. "Maybe one more year." Yet soon, a baby was on the way. What the hell? That wasn't the deal!
My fiancé of seven years, the heir to a mafia dynasty, claimed amnesia three weeks before our wedding, forgetting only me. Then I overheard him laughing on a video call, calling it the perfect "hall pass" to sleep with an influencer before he was tied down. He flaunted his affair, abandoned me with a broken arm after a staged car crash to save her from a scratch, and planned to leave me homeless. He called me his "property," a doll he could play with and put back on the shelf when he was done. He thought I’d be waiting for his "miraculous recovery." Instead, I disappeared, leaving behind his ring and a simple note: "I remember everything. Me too."
For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul-her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband's entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I'm out of your league."
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
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