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Sequel of 'Set Me Free', hope everyone enjoys reading this book as much as they liked the previous one. “What is your name?” A deep voice of a man echoes throughout the poorly lit room. Daniel, who is cuffed to a white medical bed, can barely see anything. Small beads of sweat are pooling on his forehead due to the humidity and hot temperature of the room. His blurry vision keeps on roaming around the trying to find the one he has been looking for forever. Isabelle, the only reason he is holding on, all this pain he is enduring just so that he could see her once he gets out of this place. “What is your name?!” The man now loses his patience and brings up the electrodes his temples and gives him a shock. Daniel screams and throws his legs around and pulls on his wrists hard but it doesn’t work. The man keeps on holding the electrodes to his temples to make him suffer more and more importantly to damage his memories of her. But little did he know the only thing that is keeping Daniel alive is the hope of meeting Isabelle one day. “Do you know her?” The man holds up a photo of Isabelle in front of his face and stops the shocks. “Yes, she is my Isabelle.” A small smile appears on his lips while his eyes close shut.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

I ordered an incubus online, but when the package arrived, there were two of them. One was gentle and obedient, the other was hot-tempered and unpredictable. I immediately messaged customer service to ask if they'd sent the wrong one—I had only ordered the gentle kind. The reply came cheerfully. "Congratulations, you've unlocked the hidden variant! This model is a bit special—buy one, get one free!" Wait… what? I remembered hearing people say that raising an incubus is like raising a puppy, only better—they keep you warm at night and don't shed. Well, if that's true, whether I had one or two made no difference. So I ended up paying the price of one and getting two—what a steal! Or so I thought… until I went to feed them. That's when I realized I was the cookie in the middle of a sandwich. Apparently, "keeping me warm at night" was a strenuous activity.

Sera Ashford is a Null—a walking void where magic and memory go to die. Dogs hate her. Spells slide off her skin. And the supernatural world would kill to own her blood. But Sera doesn't know any of this. She just knows she got fired from her diner job for "creeping out the customers." Then she meets Kael Valerius in a rain-soaked alley. Kael is a Voidborn—the first vampire, cursed for nine hundred years to hear the screams of every life he's ever taken. Witches he burned. Kings he betrayed. A little boy with dark curls who just wants his mother. The voices never stop. They never forgive. And they've been driving him slowly, exquisitely mad. But when Kael touches Sera, the screaming stops. Desperate for silence, he offers her a contract: stand at his side during the Conclave of Thorns—a gathering of every bloodline, coven, and pack with a grudge—and he'll pay her enough to erase her debts. One month. Then freedom. The deal shatters the moment their hands meet. Sera doesn't just silence Kael's curse. She absorbs it. Now the voices scream inside her skull. Ghosts wearing familiar faces crawl out of the walls. And a dead woman named Margot—Kael's former Tether, who clawed out her own eyes—whispers warnings in the dark. Trapped on Kael's estate, bound by a curse that will tear her mind apart if she strays too far, Sera has thirty days to master the deadly politics of immortals, survive the hungry ghosts inside her, and uncover the truth Kael buried with Margot. Because the curse doesn't just collect the dead. It remembers how they loved him. And in a world where regret is a hungry god, Sera might be the only one who can end the feast—or become its next meal.

My husband falls for my cousin at first sight while still married to me. They conspire to make me fall from grace. I end up with a ruined reputation and family. I can't handle the devastation, so I decide to drag them to hell with me as we're on the way to get the divorce finalized. Unexpectedly, all three of us are reborn. As soon as we open our eyes, my husband asks me for a divorce so he can be with my cousin. They immediately get together and leave the country. Meanwhile, I remain and further my medical studies. I work diligently. Six years later, my ex-husband has turned into an internationally renowned artist, thanks to my cousin's help. Each of his paintings sells for astronomical prices, and he's lauded by many. On the other hand, I'm still working at the hospital and saving lives. A family gathering brings us three back together. It looks like life has treated him well as he holds my cousin close and mocks me contemptuously. However, he flies off the handle when he learns I'm about to marry someone else. "How can you get together with someone else when all I did was make a dumb mistake?"

After confirming I was pregnant, I suddenly heard my husband’s inner voice. “This idiot is still gloating over her pregnancy. She doesn’t even know we switched out her IVF embryo. She’s nothing more than a surrogate for Elle. If Elle weren’t worried about how childbirth might endanger her life, I would’ve kicked this worthless woman out already. Just looking at her makes me sick. “Once she delivers the baby, I’ll make sure she never gets up from the operating table. Then I’ll finally marry Elle, my one true love.” My entire body went rigid. I clenched the IVF test report in my hands and looked straight at my husband. He gazed back at me with gentle eyes. “I’ll take care of you and the baby for the next few months, honey.” However, right then, his inner voice struck again. “I’ll lock that woman in a cage like a dog. I’d like to see her escape!” Shock and heartbreak crashed over me all at once because the Elle he spoke of was none other than my sister.