Historias cortas de Plot Twists y novelas con Independence ambientadas en Love after Marriage

Three days before our engagement, Zach Jefferson called me. “We’ll need to postpone the engagement party by a month. That day is Sienna’s first concert since she returned, and I need to be there. “It’s just a postponement. It’s no big deal.” He had postponed our engagement three times that year. The first time was because Sienna Lynch had been hospitalized with appendicitis. He said he had to take care of her and rushed over. The second time, Sienna said she was feeling down. He was worried she might get depressed and immediately booked a flight to see her. It was the third time. I simply said, “Okay.” After hanging up, I turned to the good-looking and refined man beside me. “Are you interested in marrying me?” Later, during Sienna’s concert, Zach left her without hesitation. With red, teary eyes, he rushed to my engagement ceremony. “Yulia, are you really getting engaged to this man?”

A mysterious plague swept through the packs, wiping out every last she-wolf. To continue their bloodline, these ancient predators turned to the human world, bringing with them centuries of wealth and power. They struck a pact, sealed in blood, with the most powerful human families: every summer solstice, the finest daughter would be chosen as a "Breeding mother," destined to mate with a wolf. And the one Breeding mother who could birth a female hybrid would be crowned, becoming the Queen of both the wolf and human worlds. In my last life, my sister Selena, the family favorite. She chose the Alpha of the warmest, richest territory. And me? I was the family’s sacrificial lamb, thrown to Colton, the most brutal Alpha of the Frozen Wastes. But who could have guessed my sister’s life of warmth and riches was all a lie? Her Alpha treated her like a disposable toy. She froze to death in a damp cellar, forced to listen to the fireworks that celebrated my coronation. Yes, I successfully gave birth to a girl. But those brilliant fireworks were also my funeral pyre. I died on that cold throne. Now, I’m alive again. We’re back on the day of the choosing. “I choose Alpha Colton of the Frozen Wastes!” The voice belonged to my sister, Selena. I slowly opened my eyes. Seeing the undisguised triumph and cold calculation in her eyes, I knew. She was reborn, too. But she didn't know，this time, she would be the one to fall into the very hell I just clawed my way out of.

On my wedding night, I saw another me from fifty years in the future through the bronze mirror on the dressing table. The old woman in the mirror was in the same manor I had just married into. Blushing, I touched my hair. "Fifty years from now, will I be surrounded by family, living peacefully together?" But the old woman only leaned against the dark bed in silence. Then, a yellowed painted portrait slipped from her sleeve and fell at her feet. I shyly said, "Is that the portrait Matthew promised me on our wedding night? He said we would grow old together, hand in hand." Only then did the old woman scoff and slowly move closer to the mirror. I looked carefully. The woman in the portrait on the floor was... Sabella, my closest friend. A chill went through me as my future self forced a bitter smile and stared straight at me. "The truth is that Sabella Lane was abducted and violated on your wedding night, and then she died. Because you stopped Matthew Cross, he became certain that you had sent people to do it. After that, he hated you and tortured you for fifty years. "Gwendolen Shaw, I have now revealed to you the truth ahead of time. Whether you still stop him from seeking out Sabella tonight or not is your choice."

After my parents died in battle saving the Alpha, Theron Blackwood, the Blackmane Pack took me in as an orphan. To repay them for saving his life, Alpha Theron laid down a rule: whoever became my mate would be the next Alpha. Growing up, I always believed that person would be Damian Blackwood. He was Alpha Theron's chosen heir and the man who had pulled me away from Redfang's silver blades twelve years earlier. I loved him, loved him enough to believe him without question, no matter what he said or did. But on the night of the blood moon, when the groom who looked exactly like Damian pushed back his hood, I instinctively reached for the mole at the corner of his eye. The ink wasn't dry yet. The mole smeared. I froze, realizing that the man at the altar, the man who had just exchanged vows with me, was not Damian. He was Damian's youngest uncle, Adrian Blackwood, identical to him except for the missing mole at the corner of his eye. Damian had thrown our mating contract, and me, to someone else. He was certain I loved him more than life itself, certain he could switch everything back before long. But this time, I was done bending to his will. So the first thing I did that night was wipe away the painted mole, along with twelve years of love.