2235 Book(s) Related to lil bo peep toy story

"Happy anniversary, darling. Look what I brought you." My husband's snow-white python once felt like proof of his love—until I remembered dying with it wrapped around my throat. In my past life, I doted on that "gift" for an entire year, never once suspecting its true nature, while my husband and daughter quietly counted down the days until I stopped breathing. Reborn on the very night he presents that same box again, I swear this time will be different.

Half human, half wolf—my blood can heal anything. To keep the peace, the elders offer me to the pack's War God.
"I'd rather sleep with a rock than a half-blood," Zane spits.
The wind rips away the herbs masking my scent. He freezes mid-sentence.
"Mine," he growls, claiming me on the spot.
He warns me to stay away from the Alpha—he hates half-bloods, and he'll kill me.
But when Zane leaves for war, it's Lucius who collapses at my door, drenched in blood.
"Medicine won't save me. You already know what will."

"Forty dollars. That's all the inhaler I needed to breathe cost. But in our house, nothing comes easy. 'Fairness first. Roll the dice — highest number wins.' I've rolled my whole life. I've never won. Not once. Tonight, lungs burning, vision blurring, I rolled for my medicine money against my sister. She got a six. I got a two. 'You lost, Hazel. Now go to the attic and think about your selfishness.' The door locked behind me. My chest is closing up. And no one is coming to check."

I thought I had finally married for love, that I had become the most cherished woman of a Mafia godfather.
Until I discovered the real reason he chose me in the first place.
For three years, Marcello Giovanni treated me as the most precious woman in the world.
Until the day I stumbled upon a hidden room, filled with hundreds of photographs—and every single woman in those photos looked exactly like me.
Then, I heard his underboss whisper:
"Boss said her eyes look just like Miss Camilla's."
I thought that even without real love, I could still keep living.
But I was wrong.
The moment Camilla came back from the dead, Marcello chose her without a single moment's hesitation.
And I was forced to jump into the ocean...

"You'll regret this," he said, certain I was only bluffing.
I still signed the divorce papers—without asking for a single extra dollar.
For three years, I was the wife who left a light on for him, who knew exactly how warm he liked his water, how strong his coffee should be, even what his silence meant. He never once asked what I wanted.
"I can't live without you," he now begs, kneeling in the rain outside my building.
Some men only learn to bow their heads after they've already lost everything worth keeping.

I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was ten years old.
At first, my parents were terrified. They watched me closely, rushed me to the hospital over every bruise, every nosebleed. I was the fragile one—the child who needed saving.

Then years passed.
They got used to it.
They got tired.

By the time my twin sister was graduating and my family was finally breathing again, I was about to turn eighteen.
And that night, while everyone believed I’d be fine like always, I bled to death.

"I agree." I signed away my life to save the girl who framed me. My mate didn't even look up from her tears to notice I was dying. "Stop pretending. This much blood loss won't kill you," he said, storming out with her in his arms. What he didn't know? That contract wasn't a healing pact—it was an execution order. And I'd just started my 72-hour countdown to burn his entire kingdom down with me.

They call it an "alpha team," boasting about our million-dollar AI equipment. I thought I just had terrible luck at work—the scanner bruising my arm, the coffee maker intentionally scalding me. Trapped by a $500,000 resignation penalty, I must survive tonight’s overtime. But in the dark copy room, the shredder is... breathing.

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

I'm an ancient vampire prince who's been playing human boyfriend to a demon hunter.
Big mistake.
She's completely unhinged—GPS tracking, 24/7 surveillance, the works.
When she threatens to dump me unless I surrender all my secrets, I do the unthinkable:
I actually say yes.
Too bad she doesn't know her "helpless" boyfriend has been the one keeping her alive all this time.

My wife is the city's renowned "Community Angel." She donates every single cent of her high salary to the poor, all to buy herself a saintly reputation.
Meanwhile, as her husband, I spend my days rolling beneath cars in a factory, covered in grease, juggling four credit cards just to keep our large family afloat.
My parents-in-law survive on the expensive, imported life-saving meds I pay for, yet they constantly mock me for being a powerless nobody;
My own children attend private schools on my dime, only to look at me with disgust and call me an embarrassment;
And my wife? Dressed in her high-end couture, she looks down at me and condescendingly urges, "For the sake of the poor children, why don't you get another part-time job and just endure it a little longer?"
Looking at this den of parasites sucking the life out of me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me.
I didn't argue. I silently put away my overdue bills, packed my bags, and completely vanished from this twisted household.
Later, at the highly anticipated Annual Charity Gala, in front of the entire city, I presented her with an ultimate "gift"—

For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises.

Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body.

Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union."

Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family."

Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless.

But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place.
Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage—but on her own terms.

When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route.

What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected.
He was Dominic Wolfe—the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years.
And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.

Aria Graves was the perfect Luna.
After seven years of a marriage built on lies, She didn't break when the truth surfaced—she burned. Her revenge was clean and her rejection final. 
But fate wasn't done with her.
To protect his own secrets, her father used her mother's life as leverage and forced Aria to take her sister's place, sending her to the Silverfang Pack as a living offering to their ruthless Alpha King, Damien Rothwell.
Cold, commanding, and scarred by war, Damien should have killed her. Instead, he claimed her.
Yet the King is not the only one who wants her.
His half-brother, Ethan Rothwell, once the blind boy Aria taught to read, now returns a man who sees her more clearly than anyone else.
Now Aria stands between two brothers—one bound by duty, the other by love.
In a world where loyalty bleeds and desire burns, she must choose: the Alpha King who could ruin her, or the brother who would burn the world to save her.

Juliet Austin was an Omega meant to be used and discarded.

For years, she was drained to keep her sister alive. When her sister vanished before a political mating meant to save the Frostfang Pack, Juliet was chosen as the replacement.

A bride was required.
And no one would miss an Omega.

Forced into the bed of Alpha Kaius Blair, the most feared Lycan King alive, Juliet expected death. Instead, she became the woman he could never forget.

Then she disappeared.

To survive, Juliet erased her past and was reborn as Austin Voss. She was no longer weak, no longer obedient, and no longer willing to be sacrificed.

But fate is relentless.

When Alpha Kaius finds her again, he does not recognize the woman standing before him. She is calm, unbowed, and powerful in her own right.

Once an Omega offered as a replacement bride, Juliet must now decide whether to keep running from her past or turn back and claim the destiny they tried to steal from her.

A story of rebirth, identity, and a mate bond that refuses to be forgotten.

The first time I met my best friend's older brother, he kissed me in a dark kitchen and scared me half to death.
Mia Cross and I had been inseparable since freshman orientation. I knew her coffee order, her worst ex's middle name, and exactly how long she could study before she started sending me videos of baby goats. I also knew she had an older brother, Adrian, but for almost three years he had existed only as a family legend.
He managed a major division of the Cross family's investment firm, spent most of his time overseas, and was apparently terrifying enough that Mia lowered her voice whenever she complained about him.
"He's coming home for good," she told me one Friday night as we sprawled across her bed. "Mom says he finally moved the last of his projects back."
"The tyrant returns."
"Exactly. Just a heads-up: don't poke the bear."

My name is Evelyn Blackwood. I am the only daughter of the Blackwood Pack and my mother Margaret's sole chosen heir.
The territory of Greyhaven, the family assets, and those deeply rooted ancient alliances—they would all fall onto my shoulders sooner or later.
To secure my future reign and shut the greedy mouths of our branch families, my mother brought back three boys from a rogue shelter.
She spent a fortune grooming them, all for the singular purpose of picking the strongest among them to be my future mate.
She even declared publicly at the pack gathering that as long as I nodded, whoever I chose would co-inherit everything in the Blackwood name.
But to Damien, Lucas, and Julian, those words sounded like a death sentence.
On the surface, they were obedient and respectful. Behind my back, they despised my unyielding nature. To them, I was a drawn blade, nothing like the submissive Luna they fantasized about.
The most absurd part? These three men, who had reaped endless benefits from my family, had unanimously fallen for a fragile Omega named Cecilia Ward.
"Don't think your Blackwood money can force us to marry you."
"The only one fit to be our mate is Cecilia."
"A cold-blooded, ruthless woman like you? You are nothing compared to her."
Those words were like silver chains lined with barbs, wrapping tightly around my heart.

I was nine months pregnant, soaking in the tub, when an anonymous email popped up.
The first attachment was my husband’s medical report. [Severe Azoospermia. 100% Sterile.]
I touched my swollen belly. If Arthur was sterile, whose baby was this?
The second attachment was a news article. [Billionaire's Pregnant Wife Drowns in Master Bath.]
The publication date was tomorrow morning. I thought it was a sick prank.
Then, the bathroom door opened. My husband stood there, loosening his tie.
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.

When I woke up again, the air was torn apart by the staccato crack of gunfire.
I had been reborn. I was four months pregnant—exactly when Luca’s "first love" had conspired with a rival syndicate to ambush our estate.

In my previous life, the moment the shooting started, I hadn't hesitated. I immediately dialed my husband, the Don of the family.

To protect the heir growing inside me, he had decisively dragged me out of the line of fire first.

But the price was steep. His beloved Isabella took a bullet straight to the heart in the chaos, dying instantly.

Afterward, with bloodshot eyes, he told me he didn't blame me. He even stepped away from the mafia empire, remaining at the estate to play the perfect husband, solely to ensure I had a safe delivery.

I believed him. Until the day I gave birth.

During the sacred baptism in the family chapel, he tore off his mask and personally sent both me and our infant son to hell.

In my final moments, I would never forget the look in his eyes—a hatred that burned down to the bone.

"If it weren't for you, she never would have died," he had said, his voice ice-cold as I lay in a pool of my own blood. "She bled out that day. You and this bastard will bleed twice as much today."

I have been tormented by a strange illness for ten years, with blood draws and surgeries being commonplace.
My mother always encouraged me, saying, "Nian Nian, bear with it a little longer. The pain will be over soon. Mom and Dad are doing this to save your life."
Hoping to be cured as soon as possible, I gritted my teeth and endured ten years of painful treatments, even if it meant living like a lab subject.
That was until I accidentally overheard my parents’ cruel conversation:
“Increase the blood draw even more. It doesn’t matter if she dies—she was only picked up to save Ying Ying. As long as she has a breath left, she owes it to us.”
At that moment, I finally understood: I was never sick at all.
The decade of daily treatments were nothing but a way to use me to extend the life of their biological daughter.

At our annual family masquerade gala, my best friend, tipsy from champagne, suddenly leaned close to my ear.
"If I ever became another man's mistress, would you still want to be my best friend?"
Before I could recover from the provocative question, she swirled her champagne and continued.
"Actually, I didn't miss yesterday's family meeting because of a migraine."
"The man installed a floor-to-ceiling mirror in his private casino office. He wanted to try something a little crazy with me."
"And that trip to Las Vegas last month? I lied about inspecting the casinos. His wife is about as exciting as a block of wood, so he took me to Monaco on his yacht instead."
My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. I froze.
Then she burst out laughing and patted my shoulder.
"Oh, God, I'm kidding! You should have seen your face."
I slowly exhaled, managing a strained smile.
It wasn't until late that night that I went to the casino with an urgent port smuggling agreement in hand to find my husband.
The moment I opened his office door, I noticed that the original floor-to-ceiling windows had been replaced with a massive one-way mirror.

It was graduation photo day at Silvermoon Academy, and everyone was streaming toward the main square.
I fumbled my way to Kyle's side, and someone started laughing immediately.
"Look, our future Alpha and his little Omega, together again!"
"They've been inseparable since they were kids — just bond already!"
I'd heard these jokes a thousand times.
But every time, my heart still skipped a beat.
Kyle didn't respond.
Then the photographer raised his camera, and the pack around us chanted in unison. That was when I heard him mutter, low and flat,
"Annoying. Can't she just stay away from me?"
As a werewolf born with weak eyesight, I'd long since learned to read everything around me with my ears.
So there was no way I'd misheard.
After the shoot, I stood there for a long moment before I finally left.
As I passed the academy's notice board, I reached out and tore down the application form.
The one for the advanced academy Kyle and I had agreed to attend together.
I crumpled it in my palm and threw it in the trash.

The day I discovered my husband, Vincent, was cheating on me with my younger sister, I was seven months pregnant. I drove away in a panic, only to end up in a car accident.
When I woke up in the family’s underground clinic, Vincent was pressing a gun to his own forehead, begging me to forgive him.
My father immediately ordered Elena to leave Sicily.
From that day on, Vincent took over every family affair, big or small, never allowing me to worry about a single thing.
I never heard from Elena again.
Not until our son was suddenly hospitalized with acute pneumonia.
I rushed back to the family’s private hospital in the middle of the night.
Through the half-open hospital room door, I saw my parents and Elena, who were supposed to be thousands of miles away in Siberia.
Elena was bent over the bedside, sobbing.
"Leo is my child. Why can't he even call me Mom? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
Vincent wrapped his arms around her, his face full of tenderness.
"I know you've suffered, sweetheart. But if Isabella finds out that her baby actually died in that car accident, there's no telling how many people she'll drag down with her. You know what she's capable of."
I froze outside the door.

When they shoved me into the flames, I fought through the blinding pain to call my brother, Ethan Bennett. Fire licked at my skin, twisting my vision, but the call finally went through.

"What is it now?" He sounded distracted, like he was checking off a guest list.

"Ethan, please, help—" My voice was shattered, choked by the searing heat.

"Can't you just give it a rest for one single day?" he snapped, cutting me off. "Selina and I are getting married this weekend. If you pull another stunt, I swear I'll—"

The call died right as the flames swallowed me whole.

Agony consumed every nerve before my eyes closed for good, his unfinished threat still echoing in my ears.

But the good news is, Ethan... you don't have to swear anymore. Because I was dead.

"Time's up, sir. That's enough."
I've said it so many times I've gone numb to it. In this brothel, I'm nothing but a body with a price tag.
Then an old man froze in the doorway, his eyes reddening. "My God... Miss Isabella, what happened to you?"
Isabella. Somewhere in my shattered memory, that name still carries a weight I can't explain.
"I'm Antonio," he wept. "Alessandro sent me to find you."
A name both familiar and foreign. Salvation—or just the door to a darker room?

My daughter begged me, tears in her eyes, to take her to gymnastics camp—just the two of us.

I thought it was her way of proving she loved me.

I was wrong.

In that hotel room in Toronto, I overheard my husband's voice—with another woman.

“Don't worry, Sophia will find a way to stay a few more days. I promised her that blue limited-edition leotard.”

“Her body now… after giving birth, it's ruined.”

In that moment, my world collapsed.

I thought I'd only been betrayed by my husband.
But the daughter I raised with everything I had—she was his accomplice.

The child I nurtured with my own hands kept clearing the path: so that woman could sleep in my bed, wear the lingerie I could no longer fit into, sneer in front of the mirror at every single mark my body earned from bringing life into this world.

I once believed that giving up my career would be enough to hold my family together.

But they joined hands to tell me: my sacrifice was never honored. It was a joke.

When a woman who has given everything to her family finally wakes up—

Her revenge will make every single one of them remember exactly what they did.

"Either transfer me $100,000 right now, or I keep going." I stared into the cold eyes of Roman, the billionaire ex-husband who abandoned me when my family went bankrupt. Tomorrow, he's marrying another heiress. Today, I'm crashing his VIP club. He thinks I'm a psycho, a greedy ghost haunting his perfect life. He doesn't know my parents were murdered. He doesn't know my childhood best friend orchestrated my ruin. And he certainly doesn't know I have exactly three months to live. I need $500,000 for a new heart. If I'm going down, I'm dragging all these backstabbing bastards to hell with me.

After my divorce, I fled to the unfamiliar streets of Seattle with my daughter. As a Black single mother, the crushing weight of surviving in a strange city nearly broke me.
That is, until David came along. A detective with the Major Crimes Unit, he became our safe haven, wrapping my daughter and me in his fierce, unwavering protection.
I thought I had finally made it through the darkness. I thought I was about to embrace a brand-new life.
Until our six-month anniversary. I showed up for our date full of joyful anticipation, only to accidentally witness him tenderly kissing a pregnant white woman.
With his two young children clustered right by his side...

To save my dying brother, I signed a million-dollar contract: sleep with a comatose billionaire to secure an heir. My boyfriend swore it was just a harmless formality. One night. One permanently locked door. But as I nervously approached the mattress, the paralyzed heir suddenly opened his eyes. And he whispered a terrifying warning...

My mom ran an exclusive underground fertility clinic. Her dark red serum smelled like rotting blood, yet the rich still lined up with massive checks for her "perfect designer embryos."
I’d watch her lock desperate young surrogates into a soundproof room. A few minutes later, the whole floor would shake.
Strangely, when the girls stumbled back out—looking entirely drained and aged by years—they would weep and kiss my mom’s hands in gratitude.
It never made sense to me.
Until the day I saw a pitch-black mass frantically clawing just beneath a surrogate's flat stomach.
I finally knew what kind of "embryos" my mom was actually planting inside them.

When the Manhattan morgue finally managed to reach my husband, Victor Hawthorne, he was in the penthouse suite, fucking another woman.
"Mr. Hawthorne, this is the city morgue. We need you to come down and identify your wife's remains."
"Identify what?" he snapped, his thrusts not missing a beat.
"Burn her," he ordered. "Don't bother me with her pathetic ploys."
He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, his focus entirely on the woman beneath him.
Then my body was pushed into the incinerator.
When I was nothing but ashes, the funeral home called him again.
Selena pouted, trailing a nail down his chest.
"Is Cecilia acting up again?"
"I'll go end this farce," Victor sneered, getting out of bed.

One month before the SATs, I saw my predicted score floating right above my head.
But every time I finished a practice test, the score automatically dropped by 20 points.
And if I skipped class to party for a day, it went up by 20 points.
In my past life, I partied for a whole month, and the score above my head reached a perfect 1600.
But when the results finally came out, I only scored a 400.
And my sister Seraphina got a 1600!
My father, Richard Vanderbilt, was absolutely furious.
My mother, Eleanor Vanderbilt, fueled the fire beside him.
She convinced my father to send me to a troubled teen boarding school.
They cut off my funds and threw me out of the mansion.
That very night, I was cornered by a group of street thugs in a dark alley and beaten to death.
As I lay dying, I heard Seraphina's voice.
"You always played the untouchable genius, Rhea. But you still got fooled by the score above your head."
That was when I finally realized the truth.
My SAT score had been completely controlled and siphoned by my sister.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to exactly one month before the exam.

Six months after our breakup, I ran into my ex-boyfriend, Arlo, at the Beach Club's VIP party.
His new girlfriend, Calliope, tapped her champagne flute to demand everyone's attention.
"Let’s propose a toast to Arlo, who finally crawled out of his pathetic past."
Arlo wrapped his arm around Calliope and threw a mocking glance at my dress.
"The smartest thing I ever did was letting that charity case pay off my fifty-grand car loan."
"Once I got my Varsity jacket, I dumped her for my actual queen."
A collective gasp ripped through the room.
Everyone thought I would storm out in tears, but I just smiled and signaled for the show to go on.
"What exactly are you raising a glass to, Juno?"
I leaned back in my chair and looked at her calmly.
"I’m just celebrating that you guys are having fun on my turf."
"YOUR turf?"

My name is Elena Ross, and I’m a sex addict. This is the secret I guard with medication. But right now, the blizzard has sealed the road and cut off my escape. In this narrow car, the man sitting beside me is the one forbidden fruit I absolutely cannot touch—Silas Thorne. He’s not just my boss; he’s my ex-boyfriend’s stepfather.

"Sorry, boss's strict orders. No one is to disturb the top floor tonight."
The bodyguards blocked my way, their guns aimed right at me. I was Dante's wife, standing there holding the soup I'd made for his stomach, yet I was being treated like a trespasser.
I ignored them and forced my way in anyway. Through the crack in the door, I saw everything perfectly clear. Dante didn't draw his gun on the woman who had once kidnapped me. Instead, the notoriously cold-blooded crime boss was using his personal handkerchief to patiently bandage her bleeding palm.

"You useless thing."
My husband Cassian stared at me coldly. "I thought marrying a Costa daughter would get me something, but it turns out to be nothing. And your sister, on the contrary, has become the family heir."
With that, he wrenched off our wedding ring and smashed it violently onto the ground.
"I should have chosen her in the first place, not you." Those were his final words to me.
In my previous life, I was an unrecognized illegitimate daughter of a mafia family. I obediently accepted the arranged marriage, bared my heart to my hypocritical relatives, and believed wholeheartedly in my husband's promises.
But in the end, all I got was the iron chains of the dungeon, dying with eternal regret and the unresolved truth behind my mother's tragic death. My mother and I were nothing but stepping stones in their power struggle.
Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was back three weeks after my mother's passing — at the engagement scene that decided my entire fate.
This time, I'll make every single one of them understand: they made the wrong choice!

I am a Kitsune exiled from the East. Every twenty years, I must consume a soul soaked in pure sin to grow a new tail and survive.
With only ten days left to live, I was desperate. Then I met Julian. He gently paid off my crushing debts with a smile so warm, I almost thought I’d met an angel.
Until he leaned in close. Beneath his expensive woodsy cologne, I caught the heavy, undeniable stench of fresh women's blood.
I lowered my head, hiding the sudden thrill in my eyes.
I had finally found my monster.

Not long ago, my pregnant daughter was murdered, and the killer remained at large.
Until that day, as I stood before her grave, her husband Oliver asked me,
"Mom, do you know who Robin is?"
"Stella came back from her prenatal checkup one day and said she bumped into Robin," he choked out. "She even said she wanted to take the baby to visit him."
My hand, reaching out to comfort him, froze in mid-air.
Because Robin was no good man—he had once tried to harm Stella.
That name was her lifelong nightmare. She wouldn't even dare look at a picture of a robin in a book.
And that name was a secret known only to me and my late husband.
So... who exactly is lying?

"You have two months to live." The doctor's death sentence was still ringing in my ears when I found the receipt in his pocket.

[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]

3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.

I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.

"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.

I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.

I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.

"Without her designs, none of this would have happened." My husband raised his glass to me in front of everyone.
Eight years of marriage. Five years building this company from a moldy basement. I thought we'd finally made it—until that night, when his mistress's messages lit up his iPad: "You hurt me on the couch last night." "You promised to marry me and let me move into your villa. I can't wait anymore."
I gave this man eight whole years—my talent, my entire youth. And he wanted to take it all to support his mistress.
Sorry, darling. I'm not the fool you married anymore.

My mother was dying, and I—the fallen heiress of the Sterling family—had no choice but to ask my husband for the $200,000 stipulated in our prenuptial agreement, less than a week after our wedding.

He transferred the money without a word.

But that night, the way he looked at me changed.

"So the Sterling family is drowning in fraud scandals. I guess greed really does run in the blood."

From that day on, Theodore never looked me in the eye again.

He started openly parading other women at social events, letting everyone mock me as a gold-digger who only married him for money.

Today is my birthday. I'm sitting in the emergency room with unbearable stomach pain.

Meanwhile, Theodore is throwing a party for his new girlfriend.

Clutching the $185 emergency room bill, I call him.

"Theodore, let's get a divorce."

"Here we go again. How much are you trying to extort from me this time?"

As the tyrant ruling the underworld, Victor was ruthless and bloodthirsty, showing no mercy to anyone.

Women who tried to climb into his bed usually didn’t even get a whole corpse, yet I was the only one he kept by his side.

I’d taken a poisoned bullet for him, and nearly bled to death on the rotting floor of a safe house giving birth to his son.

He once kissed the bullet scar on my shoulder and promised me that when he sat on the godfather’s throne, I would be his only family matriarch.

But the moment he slipped on that black onyx ring symbolizing power, he carried another woman into the master bedroom of the manor.

I burst for the door, and he ordered his bodyguards to pin me outside, forcing me to listen to their sounds of passion all night long.

I banged on the door like a madwoman, so he slammed my paintbrush-wielding right hand in the heavy oak doorframe and crushed it mercilessly.

I finally caved when he threatened to cut off my mother’s hospital treatment.

"Economy? For me?" I stared at the boarding pass while my boyfriend's new "business partner" got first class instead. "You're just my plus-one," Cedric said. "The sponsor won't cover you." I said nothing and boarded the plane. What he didn't know was that if I wanted to, I could buy the entire airline.

My husband, Victor Falcone, was a mafia godfather whose very name makes the entire underworld tremble.
A year ago, he barely survived an assassination attempt. The trauma gave him severe amnesia, completely wiping out the three months we spent keeping each other alive in the slums.
When he woke up, he was a different man—cold and ruthless. He treated my stepsister like his untouchable first love, spoiling her rotten.
And me, his legal wife? In his eyes, I was just a greedy, desperate woman who wouldn't take a hint.
"Drop the cheap pity act," he’d sneer. "You’re not worth a single hair on Lilia’s head."
Even so, I chose to stay by his side, desperate to spark his memory.
Until today. A rival cartel tied me and his precious "angel" to iron pillars on an abandoned pier.
Beneath our feet is a raging, pitch-black ocean. A thug has the ice-cold barrel of a gun pressed hard against my temple.
Which one of us will he choose?

For the tenth time, James Smith left me behind because of a call from his female student.
But it was as if I had become a different person—I no longer doubted that there was something ambiguous between James and his student.
Even on our wedding anniversary, when he abandoned me in the remote mountains for Sophia's sake, I bore no resentment.
Eventually, James began to sense something.
"Emily, you seem different," he said.
I shook my head with a smile.
Because I had simply made a different choice from the one in my past life.

My sister ran away the night before her wedding, so I had to take her place and marry Damian Kovac, the city's most feared don.
I figured he'd throw me in the harbor out of pure rage. Instead, the man wouldn't even touch me.
A month in, still sleeping in the guest room.
I wasn't my sister's level of charming, but I wasn't hard to look at either. And this man couldn't spare me a single glance?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I grabbed the divorce papers I'd already drawn up and stormed toward his study.
Right as I raised my hand to knock, I caught his childhood friend's voice through the door.
"You moved heaven and earth to get the woman you've been hung up on, and now you're icing her out? Didn't think I'd live to see the day."
My hand froze.
The woman he'd been hung up on? Me?

"You were like a starved beast last night," I complained, spreading jam on my toast.
Gideon's hands froze mid-knot on his tie. He turned to me, his eyes filled with utter bewilderment.
"Nadia, are you out of your mind? I was in the study finishing up that proposal last night. I crashed on the couch at three in the morning. I never even went into the bedroom."
The knife dropped from my hand onto the table.
If the man I made love to all night wasn't my husband.
Then... who was it?

After dreaming of making love with Anthony for the 99th time, I finally decided to confess my feelings to him.
But just as I reached the bodyguards' private lounge, I saw him under the moonlight, reverently kissing a photo of my sister Seraphina.
After he released his desires, a werewolf quietly appeared:
"Alpha Anthony, if Thea knew your true identity as the king of the Thunder Tribe, she’d probably be shocked."
Anthony smirked disdainfully:
"What does it matter? I came here only to get close to Seraphina. As for the others, I don’t care whether they live or die."
His words sent me fleeing in despair. My heart felt as if it were being crushed by a massive wolf’s claw, the pain so intense that tears streamed down my face.
So it was all just my own wishful thinking.
Resigned, I walked into my father’s room and said:
"Father, I am willing to enter a political marriage with Alpha Caleb."
On the Moon Goddess Festival three days later, I would marry the brutal Alpha Caleb.
And as for Anthony—I would personally deliver him to Seraphina.

The smell of antiseptic, the sharp sting of restraints biting into my flesh, and the pitying look on Silas's face as he stood by my hospital bed.
"Maeve, you're so sick. The baby is just a hallucination."
In my last life, consumed by despair and self-doubt, I threw myself off the roof of the psychiatric hospital.
But now, my eyes snapped open, my hands instinctively flying to protect my stomach.
My baby is still here!
I'm back—exactly one week before my child disappeared.

I am the most obedient lover by the side of Liam, the Alpha of the Blackwood Tribe.
I am also the only nameless stray in the entire tribe.
For five years, whenever Liam spent the night with other she-wolves, the next morning I would receive a large check or a deed to a house.
People in the tribe say I am a greedy leech.
That for money, I have thrown away the pride of a werewolf.
Even if Liam kissed another woman right in front of me, I would smile, straighten his collar, and then take the money he gave me.
Yes, I love money very much.
If they knew that this money was enough to buy the territories of three small packs, they would probably be green with envy.
As long as the money is good, betrayal doesn’t hurt that much.
Until today, when Liam brought back a pure-blooded white she-wolf.
He handed me a blank check, saying this would be the last payment he gave me.
My wolf spirit roared inside me.
It’s time for me to take the money, disappear, and return to being the queen I truly am.