10000 Years Later の小説・ストーリー

Seven years. No mark. No title. No truth. I gave Damon Voss everything and he gave me a lie so carefully built I almost died inside it. Then one letter changed everything. I am not his patient wife. I am not his Luna in waiting. I am the long-missing Lycan Princess, heir to a throne, and mother to a son I was told did not survive. He took everything from me. My identity. My child. My seven years. Now I have fifteen days, one dangerous alliance, and a crown with my name on it. Damon should have made sure I never found out. He did not.

At my best friend's wedding, a girl lunged forward and caught the bouquet—only for it to slip from her hands and land squarely in my arms. My best friend, Lauren Walker, beamed at me. "Madison, looks like you're the next bride." The guests exchanged knowing glances and turned toward my boyfriend of eight years—Mason Ryder, the CEO of the Ryder Group. But he calmly plucked the bouquet from my hands and casually passed it to the girl standing beside me—his secretary, Natalie Carter. "She caught it first." He ruffled my hair, his voice gentle. "Be good. Give it back to Natalie for now. We'll wait for the next time." The spotlight—and the guests' attention—shifted with the bouquet, settling on Natalie. I looked at her startled yet shy expression, then rested a hand on my stomach and forced a bitter smile. Mason didn't know there wouldn't be a next time. Our eight-year promise had already come to an end, and we still hadn't taken the step into marriage. And I had already promised my parents, who were royalty, that next week, I would leave and return to Montelvia to inherit the family legacy.

I was just picking up my spoon when he told me our marriage registration would be delayed again. "Let's do it next time," Ethan said as he put down his cutlery. His tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. I took a sip of my food, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Okay." He glanced at me, picked up his fork, and then looked at me again. "You're not angry?" I continued eating, my voice entirely flat. "No, I'm not." Our wedding ceremony had been held six months ago, but this was the seventeenth time he had postponed getting our marriage certificate. He was used to doing this. And I was used to accepting it. I finished my meal bite by bite. He didn't touch his food again. When I stood up to clear the table, he caught my wrist. "Summer, next Monday. I'll definitely be free next week," Ethan promised. "We already had our wedding anyway, a few days won't make a difference. Don't worry, I won't break my promise this time." I looked down at his hand, then looked up at him with a faint smile. "Okay." Over the past six months, he had said "next week" nine times, "definitely" thirteen times, and "don't worry" sixteen times. Yet, we still hadn't registered our marriage. And next week, it wouldn't happen either. Because this time, I would be the one breaking the promise.

Holy shit. Hell no. Ivette’s brain turned into a puddle as she stared into those bright brown eyes that had wiped her world away on that night weeks ago. She would never forget those eyes that haunted her dreams every night. His knowing smile. His full mouth that had touched every inch of her skin. His dark hair that her fingers had dove into and pulled as she moaned against his tan skin. His scent that made her knees wobble with need. At least, now she knew his name. When Ivette King's long-term boyfriend proposes to her, in a bid to find some semblance of peace, she takes a step in the wrong direction. A one-night stand with a rival. A mistake, she called it. An unforgettable experience, he begged to differ.

Shortly after I married Andrew Lorne, my mother-in-law has my husband's widowed sister-in-law move in with us. She wants my husband to bear the responsibility of caring for two families. My husband says he wouldn't be who he is without his elder brother's help, so he won't let his sister-in-law suffer. And so, she and her son steal my home and my husband's love. Meanwhile, my daughter and I are banished to the countryside. On the first day of our banishment, I'm violated and murdered by beggars who barge into the house. … It takes three years for my husband to remember me. He comes to the countryside to take me home. "Come out, Jovana. I'll immediately bring you home as long as you agree to give your property to Tiana as an apology for the things you've done." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, my daughter emerges from the yard, which is overgrown with weeds. She tells him I was dead. He doesn't believe her. He allows his mother to beat my daughter half to death and berates me while he's at it. "How dare you, Jovana! You haven't learned your lesson at all, have you? These dirty tricks are all you know, and you even taught our daughter to lie! It's been years, yet you still can't compare to Tiana!"

I had been in love with Anton Stark for fifteen years, and it was always sweet until another woman appeared. He began to act distant and used every trick to force me into a divorce. I clung to him desperately, even though I was battered and bruised, hoping he would change his mind. But eventually, I woke up. Some relationships should come to an end.

The nights in Vicente were a coexistence of order and gunfire. Tonight was the wedding, ten years overdue, between Anthony Oliver, the don of the Oliver mafia family, and Mabel Samson, the woman who had stood beside him through bloodshed, betrayals, and underworld wars. A top-tier luxury hotel had been cleared by the family's soldati. Below them glittered a sea of city lights; above them bloomed fireworks commissioned for the future Donna alone. The man known for his ruthlessness knelt on one knee with a rare diamond ring, his eyes filled with rare tenderness. "Mabel," he said, "you walked through hell at my side. Let me give you peace for the rest of your life." It seemed that all the sacrifices and patience had finally led somewhere. However, just as Mabel's fingers were about to touch the ring, a piercing scream came from above. "Don't! Anthony! Save me!" That single cry drew all of Anthony's attention away. The girl was not unfamiliar to Mabel. Two years earlier, Anthony's twin brother had been tortured to death by a rival mafia family while covering his retreat. His body was never recovered. And Cheryl Reyes was the fiancée he had protected with his life. Mabel watched as the man she loved abandoned everything without hesitation and ran toward another woman. She stepped forward and tried to stop him. "Don't go. The wedding isn't over." However, when their eyes met, the Don accused her coldly of being heartless and selfish. And in that moment, Mabel felt tired. Perhaps it was time, just once, to choose herself over the Family.

As I was cleaning up the house, I noticed something had fallen out of the cabinet my wife always kept locked tight. I remembered Megan's constant warnings. "That cabinet holds all our family's important records. If anything gets lost, there's no getting it back. Just leave it alone and don't touch it." Worried something valuable might have fallen out, I rushed to pick it up. But what I found was a thick stack of remittance slips. From forty years ago to now, every month, my wife had been sending money to the same account. And that's when it hit me. My wife had been lying to me. The money I'd been pouring into this family had been flowing right out, into the hands of someone else.

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?”

When I was five, Mom and Dad took my little brother to the city for kindergarten and left me in a mountain village with my grandfather, who had dementia. Before they left, Dad told me to take care of Grandpa, watch the house, and protect the yard. Mom said I was the older brother, so I had to be sensible. They said that once they made enough money, they'd bring me to the city too. I didn't want to let go. I clung to Mom's leg and begged through tears, "Mom, please. I don't want to be separated from you." My tears and snot smeared across her expensive dress. She scolded me for being difficult, slapped my bottom until it swelled, and struck my face hard enough to break the skin. In the end, they didn't soften. They left and never came back. Three months later, when I was close to starving, I called Mom and begged her to send me something to eat. She snapped, irritated, "A boy who talks about being hungry every day? Why don't you just starve, then? How can there be nothing to eat in the countryside? "Your father and I are under so much pressure in the city. Can't you be sensible for once?" Her words came true. That winter, I starved to death. Five years later, Mom pushed open the rotten door. "Miles," she called. "Mom's back."