Independence

In my previous life, I was born at the stroke of a cold, pitch-black midnight on New Year's Day, an omen the old town whispered about. They called me a Deathbringer's child, destined to guide the souls of the stillborn to rest. From the age of six, I carried small coffins alone to the graveyard by the church, burying them in silence. Each time, when I reached into the velvet shroud that wrapped the tiny casket, I would find a golden coin resting inside. My mother sold those coins for money, buying my brother a grand mansion, while leaving me behind in the crumbling family house to keep doing the work. No one expected the world of Haunts to descend. However, those coins turned out to be tokens of command, keys that bound the Haunts of the apocalypse to my will. With them, I became the Empress of the End, feared by all, ruling with every resource at my command.

After five years with Nathaniel Sinclair, Sylvia Garner thought their love would lead to a lifelong commitment. But when Nathaniel postponed their wedding, her world began to crumble. At a private club, Sylvia stumbled upon a scene that shattered her heart—Nathaniel down on one knee, proposing to another woman. “You’ve been with Sylvia for five years, but now you’re suddenly marrying Vivian Hayes. Aren’t you afraid she’ll be upset?” someone asked. Nathaniel shrugged it off. “Vivian is ill; this is her dying wish. Sylvia loves me too much to leave.” The whole world knew Sylvia loved Nathaniel to the point of obsession, believing she couldn’t live without him. But this time, he was wrong. On the day of his wedding, he told his friend, “Keep an eye on Sylvia. Don’t let her know I’m marrying someone else!” His friend froze. “Sylvia is getting married today too. Didn’t you know?” At that moment, Nathaniel broke down.

In the eighth year of helping Keith Hunter pay off his debts, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I tested the waters and asked him, half joking, "If I got cancer, would you save me?" He laughed, saying I was overthinking it. Then he added firmly, "If it ever came to that, I would sell my blood to pay for your treatment." I lay awake all night, tossing and turning, still feeling like I couldn't drag him down with me. Before taking a sleeping pill, a notification popped up on my phone about a social media post. [How do I dump an older woman who paid off my debts for eight years without too much drama?] The profile picture looked eerily like Keith's silhouette from behind. He wrote, [Eight years ago, my family went bankrupt. She stuck with me, living off dry toast and squeezing into a rented apartment. She helped me pay back over 600 thousand dollars in debt. [Back then, I thought she was innocent and cute. Now, I feel like she's just a materialistic woman putting on an act. [Last month, she even asked whether I would save her if she got cancer. How does someone even ask that? [Obviously, she was trying to get money out of me. Good thing I didn't tell her that my family recovered three years ago. [Now, my family has arranged a fiancée for me. She's the daughter of a publicly listed company. [I want to cut things off with my girlfriend, but I'm afraid she'll cling to me. After all, she wasted a lot of her youth on me.] By the time I finished reading, I had crushed the stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand into a wrinkled mess.

"Luna Seraphina, are you certain you wish to proceed with the breaking of the mate bond? Once we begin the ritual, the bond between you and Alpha Kaden will be gone forever. Your power, your standing, and everything you hold within the pack will no longer exist." The aged priest of the pack held Seraphina’s hand, her weathered eyes reflecting worry. Seraphina nodded, her voice unwavering with determination. "I’m sure." The priest persuaded Seraphina, "The ritual will bring you unimaginable pain, and Alpha Kaden will suffer greatly too. Please, could you reconsider it?" Seraphina broke the skin of her finger with a silver pen and pressed her blood print on the ancient werewolf script to seal the deal. "Let’s begin." "Very well. After the ritual, you will forsake the name, Seraphina Mor, and in return, the Moon Goddess will grant you a new life. You will go by Kathryn Flint, is that correct?" "Yes." Kathryn would leave and begin a new chapter in a forest. It was a path she had set out for herself. She was going to leave and break free from the pack that had been nothing but lies. After the ritual, the priest handed her a new human ID and passport. "Can I leave the territory now?" "Yes, you may. The confirmation slip holds the Moon Goddess’s blessing, which has the power to mask your scent from the Alpha seeking to track you, but it can only last for a week." Seraphina prepared her departure with haste. She would bring nothing else with her, neither her Luna staff nor her registered name on the pack’s records. Seraphina was leaving with her new passport in a week anyway. The Luna title could remain with the pack for good, for she no longer needed it.

My mother-in-law brings a woman from the countryside. She looks like she's up to no good when she asks my husband and I to care for the woman. My husband is a mama's boy through and through. His gaze darts around, and he doesn't object to his mother's words. Is it a trend nowadays for people to serve mistresses on a silver platter? It looks like I'll have to do my best in "caring" for them, then…

Everyone in our social circle knew that my fiancée, Hazel Mullins, had a skin hunger condition toward me. Only touching me brought her excitement and satisfaction. But the self-proclaimed heartthrob and heir to the Newman family refused to believe it. He boldly declared that he would win her over within a month. After bombarding her with seductive photos for an entire month, Hazel finally reached her breaking point and auctioned them off. With his reputation ruined, Rory Newman was disowned by his family. In a fit of rage, he jumped off a bridge in an apparent suicide attempt. Hazel lost her mind and leaped after him. I became the biggest laughingstock in the circle. That was until I went skiing in the Alps and accidentally bumped into Hazel helping Rory select ski gear. She explained with a composed expression, "Rory's dealing with some serious emotional trauma. The doctor suggested more outdoor activities. Just please, don't throw another tantrum." I felt bewildered. I wasn't even involved with them anymore. Why would I get upset? Then it hit me that she was unaware of one fact. I had already married someone else on the same day she jumped into the water after Rory in that dramatic display of devotion. I was simply there for my honeymoon, with a bit of skiing on the side.

I waited for my boyfriend for three hours at his birthday party. Sean Ziegler was supposed to show up dressed as the star of night. However, his secret lover, Josie Sullivan, called him to the hospital. She had pretended to sprain her ankle. There, she recorded a video of her and Sean kissing. In the heat of the moment, Sean stood up and pushed her against the door. But he was supposed to be paralyzed. “Sean, why haven’t you told Wendy that your legs are fine now?” “If she knows, she’ll pressure me to marry her. Seriously, who does she think she is? Wendy’s just a free maid. She’s not good enough to be my wife,” Sean said in a muffled voice. After that, he continued to kiss Josie intensely. Wearing the wedding dress I had designed, Josie looked provocatively into the camera. The video then ended with the sounds of them kissing. It turned out that Sean had been lying to me all along. I threw the cake that I made for him into the trash. Then, I texted my mom. [Mom, I’ll go on that blind date.]

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

Right before graduation, my roommate waved around a job offer from some overseas company. It had a three-day workweek, with a starting salary of $50,000 a month. It sounded too good to be true, so I warned her it might be a scam. When she struck out on other job leads, I asked my dad to get her a position at his company. She scoffed at the eight-hour days and $6,000 monthly salary, calling it slave labor. Then she went live online, falsely accusing my dad of inappropriate advances and pressuring her to bear him a son. When skeptics questioned her, she swore no woman would lie about her honor. The internet erupted, branding my dad a predator. Our company collapsed under the backlash, leaving us drowning in debt. To spare me, my dad jumped from a rooftop to his death. Devastated, I wandered into traffic and was struck by a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Amber got that shady offer.

Dad has a stroke and needs money to save his life. I'm left with no choice but to borrow money from my secret CEO boyfriend of five years. Before I can even say anything, he frowns and tells me he's busy. Then, he hurries off to attend his childhood sweetheart's birthday celebration. He only remembers me the following day. "What did you need?" I hold Dad's death certificate and smile wanly at him. "Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that we're over."