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In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

The day I find out I only have three days left to live, my mate comes home with a mate termination contract. He wants to break up with me and form a new bond with another she-wolf who's pretending to be dying—just to fulfill her so-called final wish. "Sweetheart, I don't have a choice," Caleb Lowe says, holding me in his arms. "Ruby's been poisoned with silver. She's got about a week left. Her dying wish is to marry me. But don't worry. You're the only one I love," he adds, looking at me with those sincere eyes. "Once the bonding ceremony is over and she's gone, we'll get back together—just like before." I look down and give a small laugh, then sign the termination contract. Forget it. I'm dying anyway. Who he ends up with doesn't matter anymore. I might as well let him have what he wants.

* It is said that the most painful wounds leave the deepest scars. No one could attest to that more than Afrah Aminu. For eleven years she's kept a secret to herself, knowing that she might never be able to tell anyone. Not that she wanted to. But now, with the sudden arrival of a strange man in her life, she finds herself thrown into the terrifying situation of having to relive it all. As he tears down each and every wall she has set up around her heart, the memories of that haunting night come crashing in waves. Will she be able to survive it? Or will she be crushed underneath its weight?

At twenty, she was taken to a night club for the first time. Now, at twenty six, she meets with the one man she has ever slept with. Christopher Allen. She had taken his money and ran. She always hoped to never come across him again. Now, he appears and wants to take his daughter or they get married. Yes, she had a child after just one night. One night of reckless abandon. Her first time. {"You make me laugh, I am here for what belongs to me and I think you know what that is," he said. My heart dropped to my feet immediately after he said that. I know he would want his money and I hope that is what he is talking about. "What do you want, your money?" I asked hoping he will say yes. "You are very funny... I want what belongs to me and you know very well what that is, yes, you took my money but, that's not what I am talking about... I WANT MY DAUGHTER!" } He had come demanding and she had no choice. She either agrees to be his wife or never sees her beloved daughter again. That was what bound her to him for life. A night had led to being his forever.

a love life that will begin between peter and little Marlèna who is so fragile and who is constantly ill but endows with a beauty that makes people fall

The music made the speakers tremble, the floor vibrated with the rumble of the sound and the jumps of the crazy people. Each one in their own world, dancing together, dancing separately. Enjoying music, company and alcohol. I danced alone, with a drink in hand. Gliding, moving my hips to the rhythm of the music, not paying much attention to anything or anyone around me. Just enjoying that moment of inner peace that I was needing and he was giving it to me. It was a respite, a window that I opened myself in my own cage to let in air and I knew that as soon as I left the club the window would close and I would lock myself back in my world without fresh air. Therefore, he enjoyed everything he could. Alone. With eyes closed. Sweating the bad energy that others left me and breathing the good vibes that I had to give myself. They were approaching me. I drove them away. They invited me. I rejected them. they spoke to me I silenced them. I just wanted to dance and they were going to have to respect that. It was amazing how loud music could be my oxygen tank. It silenced my thoughts, freed me from tensions. There was nothing more relaxing in my life than dancing with my eyes closed and the volume turned up to a thousand. I twirled, I jumped, I wiggled, I hummed, and I sang. The brightly colored lights flickered making it difficult to see, but it was what I liked the most, going blind for an instant, forgetting that I had the ability to see the world, a false, disastrous and difficult world.