Fluffy Anime Hair

Natalie used to hate stuffed animals. Now she's head-over-heels for a cotton doll. She called it "honey" and told our daughter, Yara, it was her real dad. Cool. Guess that made me the family ghost. At Yara's parent-teacher conference, I finally snapped and handed Natalie the divorce papers. Cue the gasps. Suddenly, I'm the villain. She slapped me—full drama mode. "It's just a doll! Why are you being so extra?" Yara hugged it like it was about to save the world, giving me the death stare. I shrugged, smirking. "You're the one who said it's your dream husband and Yara's one and only dad. So, like... why am I still here?"

"Don't underestimate me!" She growled, pressing the knife against his neck on their wedding night. "Don't mistake my kindness for my weakness." "You look so hot pinning me against the wall and the knife pressing me against my neck," he smirked. ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ Weylin Turner, the vicious leader of the mafia organization 'The Black Panther' returned to England after fifteen years. At a party, he learned that his marriage was already fixed with the daughter of one of the most powerful mafia organizations in England. But on the day of the marriage, the bride didn't appear. To save his father's face, he immediately ordered his subordinates to find a bride for him. Suddenly his eyes fell on Garaine Jones, a cheerful caregiver at an orphanage. He couldn't help but take advantage of the situation. Finding her weakness, he compelled her to become his bride. To his surprise, she agreed to his terms and conditions easily. Little did he know that Garaine Jones wasn't some ordinary woman as he thought. She was something beyond his imagination. Did the predator himself become prey while chasing his fantasies?

On a public holiday, I took Henry's mom, Johanna, to a new salon at Vanderbilt Court for a makeover. Halfway through, she suddenly cried out. I rushed over—burnt smell hit me hard. I yanked the machine off her head. Too late. Her hair was fried. Blisters spread across her scalp. I called the salon manager. She barely looked at us, lips curling. "What a hassle. If you can't afford luxury, don't pretend. I won't charge you. Now get out." I pointed at her. "You burned my mother-in-law. You're paying for her treatment and taking her to the hospital. Or I report this." Her brows shot up. Hands on her hips. "Oh, so now you're faking injuries for money? You even broke our premium equipment. You owe me a hundred grand today. And just so you know—this whole mall? My husband owns it. Pay up, or I'll make you." My heart stuttered. Vanderbilt Court... Johanna had just bought it and handed it to Henry. And he really had a side chick right under our noses.

"I, Alpha Liam Hamilton, reject you, Elena Vance, as my Mate and my Luna. You are a curse to my bloodline. Now, get out before I hunt you down." On the night of the Blood Moon, my fated mate shattered my soul. He didn’t care that I was the True Lunar Bride. He didn’t care that I had loved him since we were pups. He chose his "prophecy" and his mistress over the woman meant for him. I left in shame, carrying a secret that would change the werewolf world forever: I wasn't empty-handed. I was carrying his twins—the strongest Alpha heirs the world had seen in a thousand years. Five Years Later. I am no longer the weak Omega he kicked into the rain. I am the "Silver Shadow," a world-renowned healer with a power that can bring Alphas to their knees. When a deadly plague strikes Liam’s pack, he is forced to beg for my help. He doesn't recognize the cold, breathtaking woman behind the mask. He doesn't know that the two prodigy children by my side share his emerald eyes and his lethal temper. But as my scent begins to leak through my disguise, the Alpha King grows obsessed. He corners me, his growl vibrating against my skin. "You smell like a ghost, Doctor. And those children... why do they have my claws?" The secret is out. The hunt is on. But this time, I’m not the prey—I’m the Queen. And the Alpha who rejected me? He’s about to learn that a Lunar Bride never forgets... and she never survives on mercy.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

In the year I came of age, my father, the King, intended to confer upon me the title of Princess of the State. My mother suggested that good things come in pairs, and proposed that a prince consort be named on the same day as my coronation. The court selected four proper young nobles. I would decide my choice by drawing lots. In my previous timeline, without hesitation, I had chosen Henry Lapointe, the heir to the Duke’s mansion, whom I had long admired, as my prince consort. But after we were married, I learned that he had a beloved. She was a woman who was said to possess the beauty of a goddess. She slashed her face eighteen times and sold herself into servitude at the Princess’s residence just to stay by his side. For years after our marriage, his heart would twist in agony every time he saw that woman. He believed that I had used my power to force her to disfigure herself and become a lowly servant to prevent them from being together. To seek revenge, he secretly poisoned me with a slow-acting toxin and conspired with his beloved to betray the capital’s defense maps. This led to the Ubury empire’s territory being seized, and I was forced into prison. He ordered men to force-feed me the poison day and night, which compelled me to serve dozens of perverted old guards. They literally tortured me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the Prince Consort selection. Amidst the uproar in the court, I drew the lot for Justin Yale, the hostage prince with the weakest political base. But on the day the royal decree was issued, Henry broke down.