Ha Ji Won

After her mother's death and her brother Reno's deportation, Riana is left alone in NYU. Life seems to only get worse when she finds her roommate and her boyfriend having sex in her bed. Alan's girlfriend just cheated on him. With his PA. In public. And they were caught by a server. Angry on his behalf, Riana bids on him at a charity auction to make sure his cheating girlfriend doesn't go near him again. She wins what she thought was a simple date with the man, but boy was she wrong. Riana wins a date with billionaire Allan Sinclair and a trip to Venice. For two weeks. With him.

In the Kingdom of Pierl, love is not determined by destiny, but luck. Every year, couples are chosen through a unpredictable game of chance called "The Mate lottery". Once paired, the lucky lovers head to the mysterious Island of Luck, where their virtues get put to the test and the winning pair is granted three wishes by the goddess of love, Isolde.This year, the Lottery will be the greatest there has been in centuries, as the prestigious Emperor Lordlin Varno, gorgeous as hell, suddenly made a decision to join and find his mate. Every royal woman participating is expected to win a reputable mate. All except Liora, a princess who is considered a bastard child by her family. Everyone believes that she can only win a peasant. But then the impossible happens.No one expected a bastard to be matched with the mighty Emperor Lordrin Varno, least of all him.Will the Mighty Emporer accept a mate who is a lowly human, branded a bastard child, when he has the power to reject his match and choose someone more fitting of his status? Like Heather, Liora's step-sister, beautiful, strong and utterly evil.Emporer Lordrin's biggest goal is to win the wishes granted by the goddess in the Island Of Luck. He isn’t looking for just a simple mate to love, but a cunning, strong and determined woman who can help him win the goddess's tests. Question is, which woman has what it takes to win the tests?

On my birthday, Jake handed me two bucks and took me to a gas station to buy a lottery ticket. Then he dashed off, claiming he had an urgent work meeting. As I sat alone in the restaurant celebrating my birthday, I spotted my boyfriend, who claimed he had no time for me, having dinner with another woman. Without a second thought, I sent him a breakup text right then and there. Two days later, that lying jerk had the nerve to demand I return the lottery ticket. That's when I discovered it was worth $5 million. I cashed in the ticket and told him to get lost.

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

The day I land a hundred-million-dollar deal for the company, my girlfriend—Paisley Needham, the CEO—finally agrees to marry me. The next day, I wait at the city hall until it closes. She never shows up. Instead, what I get is her official announcement with her assistant, Jude Grayford. In the photo, she nestles in his arms. A crisp marriage license sits in her hand, impossible to miss. The caption reads, "My CEO, Ms. Paisley Needham, couldn't bear to see me going on blind dates, so she just went ahead and got the marriage license with me today. I'm so happy!" My colleagues gossip, assuming I'll be jealous and furious. I don't. I just like the post and comment, "So, when's the ceremony? Don't forget to invite me!" Paisley calls immediately, cursing me out. "I just didn't want to see him being pressured into blind dates by his parents, so I agreed to get married on paper to keep them off his back. It's not like we're actually married. Do you really have to be so petty? "Delete your comment right now and get on your knees to apologize to Jude. If you don't, I'll never marry you." I laughed bitterly. "Even better," I say. "I hope you two have a long, happy life together… and have lots of kids."

My boyfriend Julian is a chess grandmaster, a genius. At sixteen, he became the youngest grandmaster in North American history. I gave him ten years of my life, but a ring was never on the table. But when he reached the pinnacle of his career and won the Grand Slam, he still refused to break the pact he'd made with his family about his career. "According to my plan, I'm not considering marriage or any other form of long-term commitment until all my goals are achieved." I didn't argue with him. I quietly packed his luggage for the World Championship and wished him the best. He had no idea that at the very moment he was lifting the championship trophy with the world watching, I was dragging my failing body to sign my own name on a euthanasia consent form.