Seven Years Book

I'd loved Jeffrey for seven years. When I was kidnapped, Jeffrey didn't pay the ransom because of Joanna. He wanted me to behave myself. After I endured hellish torture, I gave up Jeffrey as he wished. But he begged me to give him a second chance.

On the night of the Blood Moon Pack's grand ceremony, my Alpha fiancé Ethan solemnly announced before all pack members that we would soon complete our lifelong marking. The pack's blessings surged toward us like a tide. My face flushed red as I pressed against his strong chest, which carried the scent of pine. Suddenly, a figure blocked the moonlight at the temple entrance. Ivy, my friend who had vanished five years ago, stepped inside, accompanied by a pup with eyes like stars. Ignoring everyone's gaze, she walked straight toward us. Her collar slowly slipped down, revealing a deep Alpha bite mark on her neck. Under the moonlight, that mark was as shocking as a brand. "Lucas, come to meet your father."

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, I noticed something strange. My best friend, Darren Blackburn, who had always been single, had suddenly changed his profile picture to a couple’s photo. "So you’ve been hiding a girlfriend from me?" I joked with a grin. "When are you bringing her around? I should at least meet her and make sure she’s good enough for you." He just smiled and shook his head, brushing it off. "Not yet," he said. "It’s not the right time." Then Deanna Cunningham, my wife’s voice called out from the kitchen, "Babe, come help me tie my apron." I hadn’t even pushed my chair back yet when Darren was already on his feet, jogging over. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tied the apron strings for her. I froze where I stood. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly tried to explain, "I’m just used to helping out at home. My mom’s always bossing me around. It’s basically muscle memory. Don’t read into it." I didn’t argue or make a scene. I kept my expression neutral and carried on with the dinner as if nothing had happened. Only after all the guests had left did I turn to Deanna, who was clearing the table, and say calmly, "Let’s get a divorce." She slammed the dishes down with a loud crash and glared at me. "Seriously? Over something like that? Just because he tied my apron once?"

I jump off the seventh floor on my wedding day. Why? Because everyone has abandoned me to pick up a fake heiress from the airport, my fiancé included. I expect to see them riddled with heartbreak and regret after my death. However, my father merely shakes his head stoically and looks at my body while saying I was too willful. My mother bites her lip and sighs in relief. My fiancé, Magnus Gilmore, shields the fake heiress. He's afraid she'll see the horrible state of my body. The fake heiress is scared to tears at this, and everyone crowds around her to console her. No one cares whether I'm still breathing while lying in a pool of blood. I'm stunned when I see this, but I soon laugh self-deprecatingly. When I open my eyes again, I've been brought back seven years in the past. It's the day I've just stepped foot at home.

The day I won the championship in the pro gaming league, my girlfriend, Nina Vale, said she was coming to bring me flowers. Standing on the awards stage, I pulled the ring from my pocket, thrilled and ready to propose to her in front of everyone. However, instead of handing the bouquet to me, she turned and placed the flowers into the hands of her childhood friend, Rowan Cross, who was standing beside me. The pairing of a handsome man and a beautiful woman sent countless fans across the internet into a frenzy, enthusiastically shipping them together and congratulating them. Rowan’s fans tagged me and mocked, "Classic simp. Seven years of licking boots, and you still end up with nothing. Did you congratulate Rowan and Nina yet?" I replied calmly, "Respect and blessings. Enjoy being locked in forever."

My husband threw me into the crocodile pit to help his childhood sweetheart, who was a KOL, gain popularity. To make the live stream more realistic, he personally tossed bait at me. “Have you not eaten? My grandma can run faster than you!” He watched as I bled from my abdomen, believing I was just pretending to be pitiful. When I asked for a divorce, he kicked me to the ground. “Since you love pretending to be pitiful to ask for a divorce, why didn’t you just let the crocodile kill you?” I handed him a medical report. “My child died because of you. Does this count as pretending to be pitiful?”