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Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

"My beautiful Clara... now you know who I really am. You don't think I'll let you go that easily, do you?" ****** Clara Hart was never a damsel in distress that needed saving. She was the heroine herself-independent, strong and hardworking. When she met Xane through an online dating app, he turned out to be an average decent man, like she had expected and wanted. She had fallen in love with his normality. Yet, Xane Harding was far from average. He was a tech genius and a mysterious billionaire that no one knew his existence of. And when Clara discovered his pack of lies, she was heartbroken. Xane had never wanted something so bad as he had wanted Clara. So this time he pursued her, showing her who he really was. With no lies. And there was no holding him back.

Adam Smith, Ceo of Smith enterprises, New York's most eligible bachelor, was having trouble sleeping since a few weeks. The sole reason for it was the increasing work pressure. His parents suggested him to get another assistant to ease his workload. Rejection after Rejection, no one seemed to be perfect for the position until a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl walked in for the interview. The first thing any interviewee would do when they meet their interviewer is to greet them with respect but instead of that Kathie Patterson decided to spank Mr. Smith's ass. Surely an innovative way to greet someone and say goodbye to their chance of getting selected but to her surprise, she was immediately hired as Mr. Smith's assistant. Even though Adam Smith had his worries about how she would handle all the work as she was a newbie, all his worries faded away when she started working. Always completing the work on time regardless of all the impossible deadlines. An innovative mind to come up with such great ideas. She certainly was out of this world. And the one thing Adam Smith didn't know about Kathie Patterson was that she indeed didn't belong to the earth.

How rich could a person get? My husband was extremely wealthy. The world knew him as Yvan Ellison, the person who owned nearly half of Ember City's real estate. In the five years of our marriage, he would transfer a property to my name whenever he went out for a rendezvous with his true love. By the time I owned ninety-nine properties, he suddenly realized that I had changed. I no longer cried or caused a scene. I did not beg him to stay home. I simply chose the best villa in Ember City, held the property transfer agreement in my hands, and waited for him to sign. When he finally did, he showed the first hint of softness in years. "When I get back, I'll take you to see the fireworks." I obediently put the agreement away and gave a soft hum. I just did not tell him that this time, the document he signed… was our divorce papers.

After an unexpected miscarriage, I left my ward in search of Victor. I saw him inside the doctor’s office. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I overheard their conversation. “Give my wife a hysterectomy. I don’t need her to bear me any children.” Victor Gayes pulled the woman beside him to face the doctor, his hand rubbing her belly. “The baby inside her belly will be my only child. You must protect it no matter what.” I knew the woman very well. She was Victor’s secretary of three years, Rachel Aniston. Victor reminded the doctor again and again, sternly and anxiously. “You have to give her the best medicine. I won’t allow anything to go wrong with this baby!” I pulled my hand back, all my blood running cold. To think Victor would do something so heartless to me, just after I lost our baby. To think my faith in him would become a dagger, stabbed straight into my heart. If love had another face, it would probably be letting these feelings go with a smile.

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."