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（Sequel of Pregnant and rejected by my alpha mate. Can be read alone. ）Today I had my first kiss. It wasn’t planned. It was also with a complete stranger. As I walked through the halls of my school, Higala Shifter Academy, I paused when a familiar sense washed over me. My boyfriend, Scott, was nearby, and he wasn’t alone. “You are so naughty, Scott,” the she-wolf Sarah chuckled. “Only for you, babe,” he replied, muffled as her lips closed around his. At that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. “Oh, Scott. Stop it. You know we can’t be seen together. What if your girlfriend finds us?” “She’s in class. She’s never late. You don’t need to worry.” My heart was heavy in my chest, but also a wave of fury and resentment crossed me.“Lila?” Scott breathed, staring at me in shock “What are you—” Before he could get the entire question out, I turned to the gentleman beside me, placing my hands on his shoulders and pulling him toward me. He went easily, though his eyes showed nothing but confusion. I closed my eyes tightly so I wouldn’t have to see his expression any longer. Then, our lips touched. Later, I walked into my class but found,It was him… The man I kissed only moments ago in the hallway. The man I had given my first kiss to, was my professor.

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

At one in the morning, I was alone in the research building, fighting for my life against my thesis. That was when I opened NearU and saw a viral anonymous post. My girlfriend loved the hair clip I bought her. The attached screenshot showed a girl’s side profile. It was blurred almost beyond recognition. But the blue enamel hair clip was clear. My hand went straight to my hair. Because that exact clip was holding my hair back. Two weeks ago, my anonymous boyfriend had helped me choose it. I had sent him that photo. And now his post showed he was only 300 feet away. I looked down the empty hallway. At this hour, only three places nearby still had lights on. My thesis adviser’s office. The graduate lounge. And the joint lab next door. Then my phone buzzed. Baby? Why did you go quiet? I stared at the message. For three months, I had been flirting with a man whose name I didn’t know and whose face I had never seen. Now he was somewhere in this building. Maybe behind one of those doors. Maybe watching the same hallway. Maybe close enough to hear me breathe. Then I saw the light under Dr. Ford’s office door. My stomach dropped. Because there was one thing worse than falling for a stranger online. Finding out he might be the professor who had just covered my thesis in red ink.

After being condemned across the internet for plagiarism, I stood before everyone and announced my retirement from writing. My boyfriend, Carter Xavier, who had been furiously accusing me just moments ago, froze in shock. “What are you doing? Don’t you still have debts to pay?” Ruby Quinn—his precious and the so-called victim of this scandal—immediately panicked. “Vera, you don’t have to punish yourself like this. I’m willing to give you a chance to start over.” I remained firm, my expression cold and unmoving as camera flashes exploded around me. In my past life, these two had humiliated me, plotting together behind my back to steal my work. My painstaking efforts had built Ruby’s reputation as a so-called genius author. But not this time. Without hesitation, I deleted the pen name I had used for the past six years. I had spent enough time struggling in a cramped rental apartment. It was time to return home and claim my family inheritance. As for Ruby Quinn— Let’s see how you finish the rest of that stolen manuscript without me.

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."

At 11:00 pm, I've just locked my car and am about to walk away when rows of bright red comments appear right in front of my eyes. "Warning! Your husband, whom you're still in a 30-day cooling-off period with, wants to kidnap you! He'll take nudes of you while livestreaming the entire process before mutilating you into chunks and flushing you down the sewers!" "Well, this gold digger keeps swindling money from her husband while toying with his feelings relentlessly. Now, she even wants a portion of his assets by getting a divorce from him. Serves her right for being a target of revenge!" I'm left feeling shell-shocked. After all, I'm single as a Pringle. How the heck did I even have a husband, to begin with?