What Happens At The End Of My Roman Year?

"Lara only has six months to live, Camille. Don’t be petty," my Alpha constantly reminded me. To fulfill his First Love’s dying wishes, Lucian gave her everything that belonged to me. He took her across the world to the places that were meant to be ours, and even handed her the wedding ceremony I had spent months planning. My own son, Rowan, clung to her, nuzzling the woman wearing my mother’s soul-stone. "Why can't Lara be my new mommy?" he asked, looking at me with resentment. In the Aurora Shadows pack, the home I bled for as a Luna, I had become a "lowly omega"—a ghost in my own kitchen. But the moment I signed those mating-severance papers and walked away with my violin, I didn't just leave a broken pack. I triggered an ancient prophecy of the Moon Goddess that had slept for centuries. When I return, I am no longer the humble breeder they threw aside. Now, the Alpha who once looked down on me grovels in the mud for a second chance, and the son who rejected me cries for a single look of mercy. I look down from my throne and smile: "You wanted her, Lucian? You have her. But you lost your Luna... and now, you face your Queen."

After her father’s death leaves behind nothing but a ten-million-euro blood debt, Graziella is dragged into the world of the Vitale brothers, men who rule the city’s underworld with violence, power, and a loyalty that has no room for mercy, and who, by law and history, are also her stepbrothers. In their hands, debt is not something to be repaid but something to be owned, and because her father failed them, Graziella becomes the collateral they inherit, allowed to exist only as long as she remains useful and silent. For months, she survives by making herself small, enduring cruelty and indifference alike, learning that in a house built on fear, silence is not submission but survival. To the Vitale brothers, she is temporary, a problem that will eventually disappear once its value is exhausted. Everything changes when the eldest announces his political marriage, a union meant to secure alliances and erase liabilities, and Graziella realizes how easily she will be discarded. Instead of begging, she makes a single request: thirty days as their wife and queen, not as property but as a recognized presence, after which she will vanish forever. They believe she is desperate. They believe she wants protection or love. What they fail to see is that Graziella is not bargaining for affection, but for access. Because in those thirty days, she watches, listens, and learns, and by the time they understand what she has become, the quiet debt they ignored will be ready to rule them all.

I gave Julian Marchetti thirty years of my life after the war ended. I built his empire, raised his children, and held the family together behind the scenes. But when he died, his will didn’t even mention my name. Half his fortune went to our children. The other half went to Lydia Carter, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life in Normandy. The same Lydia who’d stolen my identity.The same Lydia who’d built her entire life on the ruins of mine. All he left me was a single note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting. I loved you. We had thirty good years. But I owe Lydia. This is the least I can do. I dropped dead of a heart attack right there in his study, clutching that pathetic piece of paper. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn in 1945, when the war had just ended This time I will not swallow my anger and suffer in silence; I will fight back. And I will take back every single thing that is rightfully mine.

Her name was Vitatrix, the first empress of Rome. You won't see her in any of the history books, or hear her name in any ballad or song. She isn't even mentioned in myth or legend. Her mark on mankind was erased, because she was a woman. Long ago Rome's emperor died with out a son. His cousin, a roman senator ascended to the throne with out a legitimate heir, or so everyone thought. Fear started to grip the citizens of Rome as new threats rose from every corner of the empire. In the city of Clusium, a daughter that was born to the new roman emperor, hidden by his wife. All of this to protect her from the possible rage and discrimination from her own family. All because she was born a girl. In a world where men rule, can this sole female heir secure her rightful place? Or will her gender pull her down? Raised by the midwife that helped bring her into the world, a young Trix finds out who she truly is. She must return to a family she has never known and save the Roman Empire from anarchy. She must fight a corrupt senator, a secret society, and her own fears of the future. Together with her best friend, Hector, she will learn that not everyone can be trusted. Not all stories have a happy ever after. Will this one?

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

With a sharp gunshot, my husband of twenty years, Marcus De Luca, rushed in front of me and took the bullet for me. As he lay dying, he spoke gently. “Nerina, live well.” I held him in my arms. My tears kept falling as I pressed hard against the wound in his chest. But he only touched my hair. His eyes fell on Vivian’s body. “She’s dead. I have no reason to live either.” It felt like a bullet had gone through my head. All the blood in my body froze. “She suffered in Sicily for twenty years.” “She finally came back, and now she died in front of me.” “Please stay alive. Bury me with her.” “If there is another life, don’t let her go to Sicily in your place again.” “Please make us whole.” His hand fell. My world collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of Marcus’s father. The old Don looked at me. “Your wedding with Marcus is set for three days from now.” I lifted my head and spoke calmly. “Marcus’s bride should not be me. It should be Vivian.” “As for Sicily, I’ll go.”