Dear Alyne: My Years As A Married Virgin Ending Explained?

Eve is left with no choice other than getting married to Jason who is arrogant and has not an iota of respect for her. Eve is in need of changing the poor status of her family and Jason needs to secure his company by getting a wife. Their marriage is built on pretence and deceit for the sake of keeping his company and her family's new wealth. However, things change the minute Jason finds out Eve was a virgin the next morning after their first sex.

She escaped hell with nothing but scars, silence… and a name she had to hide. He built an empire with blood, secrets, and a rule: never fall in love. When Isabella Volkov runs from her abusive past in Russia, she doesn’t expect to land a job as the personal secretary to Damian Knight, New York’s most feared billionaire. Cold. Commanding. Dangerous. And far too interested in her. Damian sees through her lies but hires her anyway. He wants to protect her… possess her… break down her walls. But when shadows from Isabella’s past follow her across oceans, both their lives spiral into a twisted game of revenge, power, and forbidden desire. As enemies close in and dark secrets resurface, one truth becomes clear: Love was never part of the plan… but fate has rules of its own.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

The third year after I got diagnosed with intermittent amnesia, I happened to overhear my husband, Lucien Rook, chatting with his friends. “Lucien, Anneliese loses her memories every couple of months, and you keep making us impersonate you to live with her. Aren’t you afraid that one of us might take it all the way one day?” “What’s there to be afraid of?” Lucien laughed uninhibitedly, swishing the alcohol in his glass. “Annie is cold and distant. As long as you guys don’t tempt her, she won’t have any such desires. “But I’m warning you now. You can act all you want, but you can’t ever sleep with her. Once I’ve had my fun, I will be going home to her.” For three years, every time I lost my memories, Lucien was not the one who would hold my hand and embrace me, or even sleep with me in the same bed. In three years, I had lost my memories nine times, and nine men had pretended to be my husband. What they did not know was that my amnesia had been cured two years ago.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

Warning: 18+ This novel contains explicit adult content, strong language, manipulation, graphic violence, blood, and mature situations. Read at your own risk or pleasure. He remarried her best friend… while she was still calling him her husband. Madden Callista thought the worst thing in her life was the darkness creeping into her vision. She was wrong, it was the darkness living in her marriage. She loved Daelan Grey with a blind, unshakable faith. When he slid documents across the table and told her they were “just business,” she signed them without hesitation. When he reassured her with soft kisses and steady hands, she believed him. When he promised forever, she gave him everything, her trust, her wealth, her name. She never imagined those signatures were erasing her. The day Callista walked into the grand wedding hall, she thought she was surprising her husband. Instead, she walked into a nightmare dressed in white. Daelan stood at the altar exchanging vows with Elysia. Elysia, her old best friend. Elysia, who once laughed with her over coffee, she now wore the smile of a thief. When she screamed that Daelan was her husband, whispers rippled through the crowd. Cameras turned but Daelen didn’t deny her. He simply lifted a file for everyone to see. “We divorced five years ago,” he announced, voice cold and measured. He had rewritten her entire existence. She's no longer the CEO of the brand Avenior but now a NOBODY. “Kiss me at my husband's wedding,” She whispered in a stranger’s ear, her breath reeking of alcohol. (A drug lord)