Contos e Romances de Awakening

On the day of our graduation trip, my boyfriend Roman, a mafia heir, and his childhood friend Clara left me stranded on the side of a deserted highway. Their off-road vehicle had been driving for over half an hour before they even noticed the back seat was empty. When Roman called, there was no panic in his voice, only a hint of irritation. "Blair, why didn't you get back in the car?" "Stop messing around. We're rushing to the canyon to catch the sunset. We don't have time to go back and get you." "Figure out a way to hitch a ride here yourself." Through the receiver, Clara's amused voice came through loud and clear. "She's not a three-year-old girl. She can't expect you to wait on her hand and foot." In the past, I would have assumed it was my fault, apologizing to him with teary eyes. Then I would have tried everything in the blowing sand, even running, just to catch up with his car. But this time, looking up at the blinding sun in the desert, I suddenly didn't want to chase after him anymore. I took out my phone and canceled all the luxury suite reservations along the canyon route. I bought a bus ticket to a small coastal town. It was the place they said was totally boring. The coastline stretched on forever, and the world was wide open. I was no longer following anyone.

My husband, Lucien Moretti, had some last-minute trouble at the docks to deal with, so I had to attend the underground auction alone. I didn't expect to run into my ex, Damon Vesper—the man I was supposed to marry five years ago. The man who chose the woman who put my mother in a coma over me. The moment I raised my paddle for my mother's emerald brooch, he raised his against mine. The room laughed, whispered, sneered. They thought I was the same desperate fool chasing a man who'd never loved me. But I wasn't there for him. I was there for the truth—the truth hidden inside that brooch. The truth that would expose the accident that destroyed my family as the murder it always was. And when his fiancée Serena had me dragged to the basement, Damon let it happen. He stood there and watched as they beat me, humiliated me, and threatened to carve up my face. Silent. The way he always had. But he had no idea who he was really messing with. They thought they could break me again, just like before. Too bad. I'm not that girl anymore.

My six-year-old son fed me the cake that triggered my allergy and killed his unborn sister. He was smiling when he confessed, as if he had done something wonderful. “Aunt Vivienne said the baby would go back to the Moon Goddess. Then you and Daddy could break your mate bond, and she could stay with us instead. That way, Aunt Vivienne would have more time to play with me!” My heart clenched. I couldn't hold back anymore. “But Mommy and your sister can play with you, too. Can't we?” “Yeah, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “But it's boring when I'm with you, Mommy. Daddy and I have more fun with Aunt Vivienne.” The words hit me like a blow. For a long moment, I couldn't say a word. My mate, Adrian, stripped Finn of his heir badge, suspended his Alpha training, and sent him to a pack therapist. But when I asked him to investigate the adult who had given our son the cake and taught him how to deceive me, Adrian stepped between us. “Vivienne chose her words poorly. She couldn't have known Finn would actually do it.” Our six-year-old son was old enough to be punished. My sister was too innocent to be questioned. That was when I finally saw the favoritism Adrian himself didn't even realize he was showing. So I stopped asking him to choose me. I removed my Luna signet, left behind divorce and mate-rejection papers, surrendered custody of Finn, and accepted an assignment outside Blackwood Territory. By the time Adrian and Finn understood what it truly meant to lose me, they were already begging me to come back. Only this time, I was the one who no longer wanted to return.

Over summer break, right after graduation, my parents, Stuart and Rachel Powell, decided the whole family would take a road trip together. But the moment I hauled my suitcase up to the car door, Mom's hand shot out to stop me. "There's no room. Maybe you should just sit this one out." She glanced back at the seat behind her. "Aiden doesn't want you along, either. He's not feeling well right now, so give way to him." My knuckles went white on the suitcase handle, and my throat turning bitter. Aiden was the biological son they'd lost years ago and only just found again. Ever since he came back, everything that used to be mine had gone to him. Slowly, I'd been pushed to the margins of the family I'd lived with for eighteen years. Aiden's autism meant he would have a meltdown the second he saw me. I even had to wear a mask to sleep. They left me standing there and drove off without a backward glance. A few minutes later, the family group chat started blowing up. Joy Harris, my childhood friend, posted two test scores: 85/100 and 47/100. [Aiden's foundation is weak. He probably just didn't test well.] [I've decided to repeat the year with him.] I sent back a single, stunned question mark. A second later, Dad kicked me out of the chat. I took a breath and opened my laptop. Quietly, I changed every one of my college applications to schools thousands of miles from home. This time, I was choosing my own path.

I'm the head cheerleader for the Westbrook High football team. I couldn't walk through the front gate without a crowd closing in around me, and one candid photo could set the entire school message board on fire. Then I woke up one morning inside the body of the two-hundred-pound girl in my class, the one everybody called ugly. Our souls had traded places. She sent me a message. [Your good days are over, Corinna Vale.] [And let me be clear, this swap is permanent. From today on, everything people ever envied you for belongs to me!] [As for you, go rot in that body for me!] But I looked at the girl in the mirror and laughed out loud. She had only seen the shine on the outside. She had no idea I'd paid for that beauty with my life. From the age of six, every meal I ate was a diet plan measured out to the gram. To keep my figure, I was put on an operating table and had a rib taken out. I could still picture the ugly looks on my parents' faces. To them I was not a daughter. I was a pretty piece of merchandise to be sold to a rich family. I tightened my grip on the phone. She wanted to use my face to steal my boyfriend, take my place in my family, and turn me into a joke. But I had no intention of letting her have any of it. Getting beautiful and fit again was only a matter of time for me. But that hollowed-out body and that loveless family were hers for life.

The side character, Derek Holloway, poured his heart and soul into every single year of high school. When the moment came to earn a place in the honors program, his childhood best friend, Vivian Sterling, handed the golden ticket straight to Blake Mercer, the male lead. Vivian's voice sounded flat, completely unbothered. "I've really thought this through. If we're in the same class, we'll just distract each other from studying. "Besides, Blake's family is struggling financially. He needs this opportunity way more than you do. Just step aside for him, okay?" I watched Derek step aside for Blake. One hundred and one times. I watched him go home and suffer a brutal beating from both his parents for losing that honors spot. One hundred and one times. I watched him lose his mind while the girl he'd loved since childhood paraded around town with another guy. One hundred and one times. I watched his grades plummet into the gutter, destroying any shot at admission to an Ivy League school. One hundred and one times. I watched him get framed for cheating on SAT, which drove him to jump from the thirty-sixth floor. One hundred and one times. Then I took complete control of his body. Vivian had no idea who she was dealing with. I came from an era torn apart by war and gunfire. I didn't give a damn about petty teenage romance. Anything worth taking, anything worth fighting for, I would fight for and claim every last one.

A lie. That’s all it took. They locked me in the clan’s Sunken Church. For five years, the sun-torture burned away every last scrap of my pureblood pride. But when my sentence ended, I walked out and straight back into the same nightmare. My mate looks at me like I’m filth. Disgusting trash. My once-best friend is curled in his arms. She’s wearing my dead mother’s robes. She has stolen my life. Even my own son glares at me with pure hate. He says a traitor like me should have died in that cage. They all call me a monster. The one who murdered her own parents. A disgrace to the pureblood name. But I remember the truth. This time, I won’t go silently into silver chains. I won’t let them break me. I will not beg. When Owen flaunted my “best friend” in front of me again, trying to provoke me, to see that old spark of jealousy… my heart was stone. I found another man. The Prince who always warned me to leave Owen, the one who watched me from the shadows. “I see everything clearly now,” I told him. “Is your offer still good? I’m done with this trash.”

My husband Christian Messina's assistant has been blowing through my money like it's water. At the underground auction, she laughed in my face and called me a useless trophy wife. So I cut her access. She got humiliated at checkout, and the club's security locked her up for a full day and night. When Christian found out, he froze my card on my birthday. Told me I'd better figure out how to pay, or I'd be stripping down and crawling out on all fours in front of every mob higher-up in New York. What he doesn't know? I'm the heiress to the biggest mafia empire in the country. The Moretti name? That's mine. And everything he has right now—every turf, every dollar, every scrap of power? I put it all in his hands. Quietly. Behind his back.

To teach me independence, my parents enforced a fifty-fifty rule from the time I was little. Half the rent for my room. Half the cost of a breakfast sandwich. Even when a high fever sent me to the ER, they added half the bill to my debt and reminded me, "Get a summer job. Don't make a habit of owing people money." I always believed they just wanted me to become independent. Then my younger sister, Chloe, was born. Whenever she broke something and owed Mom money, all she had to do was give her a kiss. "All right, sweetheart. Debt paid." When Chloe wanted piano lessons, she made Dad breakfast once, and he happily paid for an entire year. But every dollar spent on me went straight into the family ledger. On my eighteenth birthday, I looked at the cake and quietly asked Mom, "Can I mow the lawn to cover my share?" She frowned. "Sophie, you pay what you owe. Don't look for shortcuts." "You still owe us $1,704.08 from last month. When are you going to pay it back?" I didn't answer. I only tightened my grip on the letter in my pocket offering me a full scholarship to New York University. Soon. Once I paid it off, my debt to this family would be settled. After that, I would never owe them another cent.

For the past ten years, all of Boston society had been guessing whether I would end up marrying Alexander Grant, Nathan Cole, or Julian Vale. One of them took care of every problem that came my way. One remembered every allergy I had. One built me an observatory with a view of the whole city. I never once doubted that I was loved. I had always been the spoiled little princess everyone doted on. Then my mother found her older daughter, Vivian Ashford, who had been missing for twenty-two years. Vivian was the one expected to marry into Black Harbor for the Ashford family. To make up for the life she had lost, the three men started asking me to give up a little at a time. Alexander missed the fitting he had promised to come to, because Vivian needed the practice in front of the cameras more than I did. Nathan canceled the follow-up on my old injury because Vivian had a panic attack when she heard about the medical exam before the wedding. Julian booked the entire observatory to make up for my birthday, then, while I sat there alone until closing, sent me a text that read, "You're the sensible one. Go home by yourself tonight." When I got back to the estate, I asked them why none of them had told me beforehand. But Vivian cried and said she didn't want to be the reason they lost me. So Alexander stepped in front of her, Nathan told me to stop upsetting her, and Julian said I shouldn't be using one broken promise to test whether they loved me. As I turned to leave, I heard them making a pact in that room. "Until the engagement is settled, no more coddling Evelyn." "She'll be angry." "She'll sulk for a few days and get over it. She could never bring herself to leave us for real." They weren't wrong. Back then, I really couldn't bring myself to leave. What they didn't know was that I had already let go, and I was never coming back.

In the eighth year of our relationship, I took a silver blade meant for my Alpha, Adrian Blackwood. After confirming that I would survive, he promised me anything I wanted. Everyone expected me to demand the marking ceremony he had postponed for eight years. Instead, I looked at him calmly. “Release me from your claim.” Then I turned and walked away. Adrian only laughed. “She’s desperate for attention. Give her three days. She’ll come crying and beg me to take her back.” But Adrian was wrong. Because I had been reborn. In my previous life, I used the life debt he owed me to force him into the marking ceremony. That night, his first love, Ivy, jumped from a rooftop. Blaming me for Ivy’s suicide attempt, Adrian mutilated the ceremonial mark he had just placed on my body, scarred my face with silver, and imprisoned me underground. I bled to death in that underground cell. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I took the silver blade for him. This time, I would give Adrian exactly what he had always wanted.

When Lilith Sterling showed up, I realized the years I'd spent being coddled by my three childhood friends had been nothing but a lie. My Alpha King father, though, still had no idea. He honestly believed I'd end up choosing one of the three. That's why, at the Pack gathering, he announced in front of everyone: "Aurora, whoever you want to bond with—your father will make it happen." Every pair of eyes turned to the three boys who'd once loved and protected me—Kael Blackwood, Orion Whitethorn, and Zephyr Stormrider. We were perfectly matched in status, had grown up together, shared years of deep affection. But when my father threw out that hint, the three of them acted like they hadn't heard a thing. Kael was draping his coat over Lilith's shoulders. Orion was massaging her feet. Zephyr was busy fighting through the crowd to snatch a gift for her. The silence was suffocating. My father's face went rigid with humiliation. I quickly spoke up: "Father, my future mate hasn't made it back yet. Once he returns, I'll bring him straight to you." The three of them scoffed at that, smirking like they'd just heard the best joke of the night. They thought I was lying. Everyone there assumed I'd have to pick one of the three. But the one I'd already chosen had nothing to do with any of them.

My 30th birthday. My childhood friend, Jax, told me to meet him at Chicago City Hall. “Wear the custom wedding dress. Bring your ID.” He promised me a surprise I’d never forget. But when I got there, he just casually lifted his cigar to his rich friends. “See? She actually wore the wedding dress. Pay up. The limited-edition Aston Martin is mine.” Then, he turned to me. “Clara. It was a joke. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?” I said nothing. He was so sure of himself. No matter what he did, I was his little shadow. The girl who couldn't live without him. I’d always come crawling back, crying, begging him to marry me. His face, the one I used to love, twisted into a sneer. “If you’re that desperate to get married, go grab some homeless guy off the street. See if anyone wants you. Don’t worry. I’ll party a few more years. Then maybe I’ll be generous and keep the fiancée spot open for you.” The crowd of men and women behind him erupted in laughter. They laughed at me. The parasite Jax couldn't shake. The idiot waiting for him to throw me a bone. But when I walked out on the arm of my new husband—a literal Mafia Don—and flashed a very real marriage certificate, Jax’s face went dead white.

I gave up the chance to take over my family's business and spent ten whole years acting as a sports agent for my swimmer boyfriend, Nate. I stayed by his side from his early days to his rise to fame. He promised he would propose to me the day he won the world championship gold. The night of his victory dinner, I eagerly put on a wedding dress. I even invited all our close friends and family to the venue so they could witness the moment together. But as he stood under the spotlight, he looked right past me and his gaze landed on his younger teammate, Lexi, who was smiling brightly and clapping for him nearby. A reporter pushed through the crowd with a microphone and asked on the spot if he and Lexi were dating. Nate just smiled at the cameras and didn't deny a thing. Hearing the crowd around us cheering and swooning over them, I ripped off my veil, turned around, and walked out. I sent a text to my father asking him to send a car to take me home. I suddenly remembered that before he left, Nate had hugged me tightly. He said he wasn't in top form and was afraid of losing. He begged me not to go to the competition because he didn't want me to see him fail. In the end, he kept me away just so he could bring someone else. Whoever wants a man like this can have him. I am done.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

My mate's first love was in the maternity ward with me. We gave birth to two baby boys on the very same day. My son inherited my pure-blood Alpha lineage—the heir everyone expected to one day inherit everything I had. I spent decades loving him, protecting him, and giving him everything a mother could. But as he grew older, something never seemed right. He was painfully ordinary. No powerful wolf. No signs of an Alpha awakening. Not even the strength expected of a pure-blood heir. I blamed myself for years, wondering if something had gone wrong with his bloodline. It wasn't until the day I was dying that I learned the truth. The son I had loved and raised for decades wasn't my biological child at all. On the very day the babies were born, my mate, Ryan, had conspired with Isabella to switch them. They wanted Isabella's ordinary kid to take the place of my pure-blood Alpha heir. Meanwhile, my real son was abused by Isabella for years. She was even planning to stage an "accident" and kill him before his wolf awakening. After I died, my soul refused to move on. I watched with my own eyes as the fake son ran into Isabella's arms and called her Mom. I watched Ryan marry her. I watched the three of them live a life of luxury and privilege. Meanwhile, my real son had already been killed by them. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the two babies were born. When I saw the two newborns the nurse brought in, I didn't hesitate for even a second. The first thing I did was take my real son back.

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

On the day we take our graduation photos, the class decides to split into groups. The moment I stand beside my girlfriend, Susie Langdon, someone calls out, "Put Paul next to Susie!" Another girl echoes, "Yeah, the hottest guy and the prettiest girl in our department should stand together!" Before I can react, my childhood friend, Joanna Boyle, grabs my arm and switches our places. "Zach, switch with Paul. It's just a graduation photo. Don't be so petty." Susie smiles and doesn't object. She simply steps aside to make room for Paul Ramos. I stand there frozen, instinctively touching the ring on my finger. It is the first gift Susie ever gives me. I've wanted to wear it for the most important photo of us. Right before the shutter clicks, Susie suddenly calls out, "Zach." My stomach tightens. She reaches over and slips the ring off my finger. "Paul's hand looks too bare. Let him wear it for the picture." The crowd starts teasing them again. Paul just smiles, and Susie doesn't even offer a word of explanation. The photographer shouts, "Say, 'Happy Graduation!'" As everyone yells in unison, I stand at the far edge of the group. At that moment, I finally understand how unimportant I am to Susie. If I don't deserve to stand next to her, then she has no place in my future either.

My best friend and my girlfriend's graduation trip vlog blew up online, racking up millions of likes. The comments were full of people swooning over their picture-perfect love story. Someone finally asked who the guy sitting quietly in the corner was. Suzanna Jones replied to the comment: [Just some random guy. I don't know him.] When I sent her a screenshot, she explained impatiently. "You stutter when you talk. Putting you on camera would only make you look ridiculous. "Elliot and I are only pretending to be a couple so he can make enough money to pay for his mom's medical treatment, so stop getting jealous over nothing." For the past year, I had practiced speaking to my phone every single day, all for the relationship-announcement video she had promised we would make. Now, I could finally speak without stuttering. However, she did not know that, because she had not been patient enough to listen to me in a long time. Just like now. Before I could say a word, she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Elliot Walker, stepping straight back into her camera frame. During their seven-day trip, Elliot filmed thirty-two videos. She appeared in every single one. She patiently listened to him ramble about anything and everything, never letting a single thing he said go unanswered. The last part of my heart that had been fighting to hold on finally went quiet. I lowered my head and deleted the relationship-announcement I had practiced hundreds of times. If I was nothing more than a background extra in her world, then so be it. She would not have a part in the of my life anymore.

My girlfriend, Tasha, was a hopeless romantic, hooked on using a breakup to test how much I love her. The first time, she threatened to kill herself when I was in the middle of defending my thesis. She pushed me to turn down a six-figure job offer, so I’d spend the day at the beach with her. Later, Tasha told me, “I just wanted to know whether your job or I meant more to you.” The second time, she showed up at my father’s funeral, arm in arm with her guy best friend, Jesse. She demanded a public apology, all because I didn’t answer her call the day before. “I was only testing your emotional stability. Why are you so upset?” The third time came in the fifth year of us dating. She rented a massive screen downtown and broadcast a video of her kissing Jesse. Tasha made a post on her social media. “If he hikes to the top of Mount Rainier and proposes to me, I’ll forgive him.” Her friend group was already betting on the hours it would take me to reach the summit in tears. Too bad they were all wrong. I was done proving myself in Tasha’s so-called tests of love.