Independence Awakening の短編小説 & 小説

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

On the eve of Independence Day, I made a reservation at an alpine lodge and rented a private yacht. I invited my boyfriend, Luke Anderson, my best friend, Ella Reid, and a dozen other friends along for the trip. We had just reached the dock when Ella passed her suitcase to me. “My skincare products are very expensive. Be careful not to ram the suitcase into anything.” Luke frowned and tossed the car key to me. “Buy an iced americano. Ella doesn’t like hot coffee.” Before I could speak, I suddenly saw a lot of floating captions appearing before my eyes. [Here it comes! This is the easiest-to-fool walking ATM in a romance novel!] [Does Harper really think everyone wants to spend Independence Day with her? She’s the one paying for the yacht, alcohol, and lodge. Luke and Ella will use this opportunity to deepen their relationship.] [What a joke! Last night, Ella was discussing with Luke that after Harper paid the bill, they would find an excuse to ditch her to see the sunrise.] [The trust fund that her parents left her is going to run dry thanks to all these leeches. She still thinks that they’re her friends.] My fingertips turned cold from the sea breeze. Ella saw that I was not moving, so she smacked her lips impatiently. “What are you doing? Everyone’s waiting for you.” I looked down at the bill displayed on my phone screen and suddenly laughed. Since the truth was revealed, from this moment onward, everyone had to pay for their own expenses.

In my previous life, I was adopted by an ordinary werewolf family, while my sister, Evelyn, was taken in by the Alpha family. But less than three years after joining the Alpha household, Evelyn broke their rules, was banished from the pack, and died alone in the wilderness. Meanwhile, my adoptive brother Evan and I built a successful business through our own hard work. With the blessing of our pack, we completed our mate-bonding ceremony and had three litters of pups. It was a happy and fulfilling life. When fate gave us a second chance, Evelyn made the exact opposite choice. She ran over, threw herself into Evan's arms, and called his name sweetly. Looking at me with smug satisfaction, she said, "Natalie, you can go to the Alpha family this time. I've had enough of all their rules. I don't even want to set foot in their territory." I turned to look at the man who had been my mate in my previous life. I was hoping he would say something. Instead, he lowered his head and smelled the back of Evelyn's neck. He looked at me coldly. "Don't come any closer. I'll kill you." In the end, under Evelyn's triumphant gaze, I walked toward the Alpha family's car.

When I handed in my resignation, my supervisor said, "Mr. Foster promised to marry you once you made director. You're only one promotion away, so why quit now?" I looked down at my pant legs, the hems still soaked from the puddles outside. "Because of an umbrella." My mind went back to yesterday. Rain was pouring down, and I was stranded at the office entrance without an umbrella. Mark Foster's new assistant, Rachel Lynch, was stuck there too. Mark came downstairs carrying a single umbrella. He didn't hesitate before offering to share it with Rachel. After all, no one would read anything into the two of them being seen together. He looked at me and said flatly, "Erin, because we're together, sharing an umbrella would only get people talking. It's not worth it." I stood frozen for a long moment, watching them walk away beneath the same umbrella. Then I ran straight into the rain. In the ten years Mark and I had been together, he had fallen back on the same excuse more times than I could count. "Since we're together, we have to be careful about how things look." That was why I always came and went alone, while every promotion passed me by. Now, even sharing an umbrella with him was apparently too much to ask. By the time my resignation was official, the rain had eased to a drizzle. This time, I opened my own umbrella and walked away, calm and unhurried. I didn't need his anymore. It was never meant to shelter me anyway.

Everyone on both sides of the law knew two things: Valerie Pelt, the Pelt family heiress, loved to play around, and her husband oved to threaten divorce. So the last time Valerie and I got divorced, she signed the papers without batting an eye and asked, "So how long are you going to sulk this time? A week? Two?" Everyone assumed it would go the way it always did, that before long, I'd come crawling back with my tail between my legs. But this time, I moved, changed my number, and vanished without a trace. A year later, I ran into her by chance while representing my company in a partnership pitch. I presented the proposal for two hours, and she sat there in silence the entire time. Only when my expression darkened did she finally speak, her voice lazy. "Are you done? My patience is running thin. How about dinner tonight?" I glanced at the time and shook my head. "I have to pick up my kid from my mother-in-law's. If you'll excuse me." After all, my wife had been investigating her all along, and I was in no hurry to see her caught just yet.

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.

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.

This was the ninth year since Luca and I met, and the fourth time we had honored our ridiculous thirty-day break. Luca believed it was the secret to making our relationship last. Every year after our anniversary, we paused our relationship for thirty days. We did not call, ask questions, or interfere with whom the other person dated. If either of us found someone better, we would part gracefully. If not, we would return to each other at the end of the month. Tonight, the Westbridge University racing team had reserved the upstairs room of a bar just off campus. Around me, the guys shook bottles of champagne. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our captain on being single again!" "The betting pool is open! Bet left if you think Luca and Elena will marry after graduation. Bet right if you think they'll finally break up!" Champagne flew as laughter blended with the music. I sat alone in one corner, watching as though they were not gambling on my relationship. While everyone laughed, Luca entered the party with his arm around Sienna—the same woman he had chosen last year. He leaned close to me and smiled. “Don’t overthink it. You’re still the only woman in my future.” I rested one hand over the child he did not know I was carrying. Everyone was betting that I would forgive Luca on the thirty-first day. This time, they were all going to lose.

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

A few days before my postpartum period ended, I found two plane tickets to Mirelia tucked inside Daryl’s wallet. I was secretly delighted. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. But on the very day I was supposed to recover, he told me that his company had suddenly sent him on a business trip. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep—only to see his first love post on social media. [Finally fulfilled our promise to kiss at Saint Vyron Cathedral. Thank you, God. After all this time, it’s still you.] The photo showed the two of them holding hands and kissing. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I turned to look at my sleeping daughter beside me, then picked up my phone. [Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll take over the family business.]

The last time I mentioned my engagement to Walter Reagle, everyone in the room went quiet at first. However, after seeing Walter's annoyed look, they all started laughing. "Who still believes in old-fashioned childhood betrothals these days?" "Is Ms. Lawson feeling insecure?" I ignored their teasing. I just looked at Walter, who was lounging on the couch with his shirt collar open, showing off the lovebites on his neck and collarbone. My heart felt like it was being stabbed. The pain came slowly. "We were too young to agree to something so silly," he said. Walter looked up with a faint, mocking smile. He gave me a lazy look. "We're grown up now, Emma. "Let's just forget about the past."

Caine Black and I were in love for seven years. From our first meeting at the Imperial Academy to being officially recognized by both packs as promised mates, I thought we would be together forever. That certainty lasted until the day before our marking ceremony, when I canceled it. The priest stared at me in shock. "Eileen, the marking ceremony is in twelve hours. Are you sure you don't want to wait for Caine to come back?" I gently unclasped the pendant from my neck, the one that symbolized the Luna's status, and shook my head. "No. "He's under the northern lights on the Ice Plains right now, completing a marking ceremony with his first love."

I spent ten years trying to win the heart of Luca Moretti, the most feared Don in Sicily. In the end, it was our six-year-old daughter who taught me to let go. That night, before bed, I tried to talk to him again. “Luca, why don’t we take Sophia to the amusement park this Saturday?” He sat on the sofa, staring at his phone. He didn’t look up. A faint smile touched his lips as he read the message on the screen. I knew who it was—his childhood sweetheart, recently divorced and back in Sicily. I was about to ask again when Sophia ran over and took my hand. “Mommy, don’t ask anymore.” I looked down at her. “Why?” She glanced at Luca and lowered her voice. “It’s obvious. Daddy doesn’t want to talk to you.” Luca’s fingers paused over the screen. He still didn’t look up. A second later, he continued typing. Sophia was only six, yet she had already learned to read the silence between her parents. I saw the concern in her eyes and finally understood. For ten years, I had been the only one trying. I stood and took her hand. “Come on. Mommy will sleep with you tonight.” That night, I decided to let Luca go. This time, I was done begging him to love me.

For one year, I believed Matteo De Luca had truly fallen in love with me. Our marriage began as an alliance, but he held me every night, kissed me before council meetings, and fastened the De Luca Donna brooch at my throat as if I already belonged beside him. Then his first love, Vanessa Ashford, came back. Within days, our official ceremony was postponed, her access was added to the Donna wing, and Matteo stopped wearing the family signet he once used to claim me in public. He said it was council business. But council business did not leave amber perfume on his skin. It did not sit beside him on a private jet to Palm Beach. And it certainly did not smile from the Donna’s chair while his friends watched me lose my place. The final humiliation came at a private dinner, when someone asked whether I was Matteo’s wife. He looked at me, then said calmly, “Elena and I have an arrangement.” That night, I stopped waiting to be chosen. Matteo could keep his first love, his title, and the home he let her enter. I packed my passport, my Florence contract, and the prenatal report he had never seen. Then I left New York with his child.

"Forget it, I'll marry him!" The moment Margot Johanson said those words, she suddenly felt a sense of relief. She could hear her parents' voices full of smiles in her ears. "Gigi, we’re glad you’ve made up your mind. Your fiancé may be in a coma, but he’s quite handsome.  “Although he’s been out for years, what if he wakes up? After all, he’s the one set to inherit the family business..." Her parents, trying to persuade their own daughter to marry a comatose man, actually thought she was getting the better deal.  They seemed convinced that no one else in the world would be foolish enough to take on such a situation.  Margot smiled bitterly. "Don’t worry. Since I’ve made up my mind to marry, I won’t back out. I won’t let your precious Maisie take my place."

Married to Jasper Brook for six years, I found out that he was keeping a mistress under his wing. She was stunning but timid, shrinking back at the slightest raised voice. Because of this, Jasper never lost his temper around her. He indulged her fragility and treated her preciously. However, the mistress wasn’t as obedient as she appeared. When she stirred up trouble with me, Jasper’s patience snapped, and he unleashed his fury on her. The next day, she sent me a photo of her neck covered in hickeys. “Selena, Mr. Brook is so scary. I’m terrified.”

I'm a Bond Breaker. I use magic to sever werewolves' mate bonds without pain, helping them get out of relationships that have gone bad. Three years into my practice, a young she-wolf walked into my consulting room and laid a signed check over my appointment form. "I need you to break a Luna's bond. She's been holding on to that position long enough." The signature on the check looked strangely familiar. I kept my expression polite. "Does she want to end her bond?" "She will once she sees what her Alpha gets up to in my bed." The girl swept her hair aside, revealing a bite on her neck that hadn't healed. "He told me I make him feel young again." She pushed a video across the desk. In it, Lucas Hale bent to kiss her, the sports watch I'd given him still strapped to his left wrist. Three hours earlier, he'd used that same hand to braid our daughter's hair, then pulled me into his arms and told me nothing in the whole Grayridge Pack mattered more than the two of us. The girl smiled. "Will seven days be enough?" I glanced at my own mating mark. "That'll do." Apparently, even a Bond Breaker could end up taking her own kind of order.

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.

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]

When I was reborn, Horace was pressing me down on the bed. His phone rang with a piercing ringtone, interrupting him from undressing me. After seeing the caller ID, the desire in his eyes instantly disappeared. Throwing a random bath towel on my body, he said, "Leave. My new girlfriend doesn't like it when I smell like someone else." Without another word, I got dressed and left without any complaint. In my past life, I wasn't willing to leave, and clung onto him, throwing away all my dignity, and I even became crippled after saving him during a car accident. As I wished, I became his wife, only because he said, "Let's have a baby. Then, even if I was no longer around, our child would be able to take care of you." I endured several life-threatening medical crises during my pregnancy, but then I overheard him talking to Vivian, "Vivi, you'll be saved once the kid is born." "But that's you and Rose's child, isn't it? Wouldn't she get mad if she knew?" Horace's voice was ice-cold. "I only let her live because she could still give birth. Did she think that I'd fall for a cripple?" In my anger, I pulled out my oxygen tube, and both I and my baby died. Now that I was reborn, I would never walk the same path once more.