1945 Pulitzer Winning

Noah left me at the altar three times—for his precious Freya. First time? She threatened to jump off a building. Second? Said she was moving abroad. Third? Sent a text saying she was getting forced into some arranged marriage. Noah, usually Mr. Cool, freaked. Left a packed venue and turned me into a total joke. Again. I called him. "If you don't come back today, I'm marrying someone else." He laughed. "Freya's young. You're too old to be playing games, aren't you?" I clutched my phone, heart sinking. He knew Freya was bluffing. Still picked her. That's when I finally gave up. Later, after he'd calmed her down, he came looking for me. "Pick a new wedding date," he said, like it was no big deal. "It'll be even grander this time." A guy's voice cut through, smiling. "Sorry, man. Gotta get my wife on the plane."

On the day Andrew Selwyn is elected as the pack's Beta, we promise to have our bonding ceremony a month later. Seven days away from the ceremony, he suddenly decides to pursue his first love, Lucy Grimm. He wants to make up for the time they had lost apart. If he gets back together with Lucy, he hopes I will give them my blessing. If he can't win her over, he'd let go of his obsession and return to complete the ceremony. He'd spend the rest of his life loving and protecting me. Gazing at his sincere expression, I smile and say, "Alright. As long as it makes you happy, I won't stop you." The moment he turns and leaves, I can no longer hold back my tears. All along, Andrew's heart belonged to someone else. Later, I contact my best friend, Selena Jones, through the mind link. "My bonding ceremony has been canceled," I say flatly, my voice thick with helplessness. "Didn't you want me to lead the research team at your institute out of town? I'll do it. When do we leave?"

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

Back in the day, in the legal world, Finn Cross and I were the top dogs. Untouchable. He ran New York, a king in criminal defense, never lost a case. I held down Boston, crushing it in civil court. People in the biz used to say it was a good thing we weren't in the same city. If we were, we’d have gone head-to-head, and it was anyone's guess who'd come out on top. But they never would've guessed. Three years ago, I, Victoria Sterling, quietly married Finn Cross. And just like that, the legend of "Vicky" was locked away. I was willing to leave my career behind, to be the quiet, supportive woman behind the great man. I made his coffee, went with him to all sorts of events, and left a light on for him when he came home late. But when Elena, the one he’d always carried a torch for, showed up again, I couldn't keep up this charade anymore.

As a descendant of a Beta, I, Nyra Aurewyn, was set to bond with Alpha Lucien Nightwarden. But on the night before our bonding, my parents died in a tragic car accident. I was immediately demoted to an Omega, and he replaced me with another she-wolf—my best friend, Lilith Ebonhart. Devastated, I was saved by Alpha Talon Mournvale, who made me his Luna. However, I soon discovered a shocking truth—my parents' deaths were orchestrated by Alpha Talon himself. His proposal to me was never out of love; it was all just to please Lilith Ebonhart. Determined to escape him, I faked my own death while traveling to the Stonevale Pack. There, I found a new mate—Alpha Fenrir Stonevale. But my “death” changed everything. Alpha Lucien Nightwarden broke his bond with Lilith Ebonhart, and Alpha Talon Mournvale never stopped searching for me. Worse, he finally uncovered the truth—his blind obedience to Lilith Ebonhart had never been real. He had been drugged all along.

At the age of twenty, I mated to my father's best friend, Lucian, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack despite our age difference. He was eight years older than me and was known in the pack as the cold-hearted King of Hell. He was ruthless in the pack and never got close to any she-wolves, but he was extremely gentle and sweet towards me. He would buy me the priceless Fangborn necklace the next day just because I casually said, "It looks good." When I curled up in bed in pain during my period, he would put aside Alpha councils and personally make pain suppressant for me, coaxing me to drink spoonful by spoonful. He would hug me tight when we mated, calling me "sweetheart" in a low and hoarse voice. He claimed I was so alluring that my body had him utterly addicted as if every curve were a narcotic he couldn't quit. He even named his most valuable antique Stormwolf Armour "For Elise". For years, I had believed it was to commemorate the melody I had played at the piano on our first encounter—the very tune that had sparked our love story. Until that day, I found an old photo album in his study. The album was full of photos of the same she-wolf. You wouldn’t believe this, but we looked like twin sisters! The she-wolf in one of the photos was playing the piano and smiling brightly. The back of the photo said, "For Elise." ... After discovering the truth, I immediately drafted a severance agreement to sever our mate bond. Since Lucian only cared about Elise, no way in hell I would be your Luna Alice anymore.

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

Ethan Shaw had died. Before the funeral, his wife, Stella Walker, packed his belongings and found a thick photo album. [My True Love] On the cover, it said— She opened it. The photos inside were not of her. They were Rachel Chester—the girl Ethan had adopted years ago. Not only that, Ethan left all his wealth to her. Stella died with hate in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before she married Ethan. This time, she chose to live for herself and walked away from Ethan to pursue her own dream. What she did not expect was that, in this life, Ethan went mad looking for her when she left. He searched for her everywhere.

I, Ginny Tremaine, have a written agreement in my mate contract with Tyler Kingsley, the chairman of the Werewolf Council. As long as I proposed to him 99 times first, he promised to personally show up at the Office of Werewolf Mate Affairs on the 100th time and complete our marking ceremony. However, Tyler doesn't show up on the promised day and instead appears on the main stage of the Silvernight Music Festival with his lover, Vivian Lowe. In the livestream watched by the entire pack, he leans down and kisses her so intimately that it's practically a declaration of ownership. The social media networks instantly erupt with excitement. "#ChairmanOfTheWerewolfCouncilOfficiallyRevealsMate." "Chairman of the Werewolf Council caught kissing his lover and showing PDA." At the same time, I become a trending search for standing in front of the Mate Affairs office for the 100th time. Everyone speculates about the identity of the mystery man who never showed up and wonders if I will try for a 101st proposal. Tyler, likely feeling guilty, promises me the next day, "Next time, I promise I'll be there on time." He arrives in a crisp suit with papers in hand, standing outside the Mate Affairs office. But all he receives is a short message from me, saying, "Alpha Tyler, there won't be a 101st proposal. We're truly over."