Independence

It's the final round of this year's Pack Pup Tournament. I can't take my eyes off my pup, Patrick Grant, as he wins the title. When the host calls Patrick's parents onstage to celebrate, I leap up, thrilled. But then I see Nicholas Grant, my Alpha mate, walk up with his secretary, Natalia Lawson. They stand side by side under the spotlight, kissing Patrick on both cheeks. It's as if Natalia is the mother, as if she's the Luna of our pack, as if they're the perfect family. I can only stand there in the audience, feeling the weight of countless startled stares, too ashamed to lift my head. Later, Nicholas brushes the incident off. "You were seated farther back. It was easier to bring Natalia up on stage," he explains. Easier? I swallow the humiliation and force myself to believe it was just an unfortunate coincidence—until today, that is. I sense through our blood bond that something's wrong with Patrick, so I drop everything and race to the pack hospital. But when I arrive, Patrick is lying in Natalia's lap, whining to her in a soft voice. I step forward to introduce myself, but the healer only looks surprised. "The emergency contact form lists Natalia as his mom, though." It turns out Patrick himself had stripped me of my role as his mother. And Nicholas didn't stop him. I finally understand. I don't belong in this family anymore. That night, I tell Nicholas I want to dissolve the mate bond between us. He doesn't even look up as he says, "Don't be dramatic. You'd dissolve our bond over a single name on a form?" "Yes."

The day my wife gave birth to my foster brother's child, my entire family waited tensely outside the delivery room. They were not concerned about whether Sheila Rogers would make it through labor safely. They were worried I might turn up and make a scene. My mother kept glancing at the elevator. "He won't try to come up the stairs, will he?" My father was on the phone with hospital security again and again. "Yes, about six foot three. Have you seen him?" My brother stayed coiled and ready, fists clenched. "If my brother causes trouble, I'll lay down my life to protect Sheila and my son." However, from the start of labor to the moment Sheila delivered safely and both mother and child were declared healthy, I never showed up. Reclining on the hospital bed, Sheila took out her phone and asked my mother to call me. "Tell Hank not to cause any trouble," she said calmly. "If he's willing to be the child's godfather, we can still live our lives together." She felt absolutely no guilt toward me. From her perspective, she had merely granted my parents their long-standing wish for a grandchild. What fault could there possibly be in that? What no one knew was that I had never planned to go to the hospital. At that very moment, I was training beneath the scorching sun. All for a single reason: in one month, I would deploy with my unit to Safrana on a peacekeeping mission. Once I left, there would be little chance of ever coming back.

Connor Greene, a golden boy in Brookhaven, is unwittingly drugged, and I end up being the cure for his "predicament". It's exactly a month later when I discover that I'm pregnant during a routine medical examination. Upon learning the news, Connor offers me 50 million dollars to carry the baby to term, and then another ten million dollars to take full custody of the child. It's then that Julie Sutton, my so-called righteous friend, persuades me to terminate the pregnancy, saying, "You ought to know that money isn't everything, Queenie. If you throw away your dignity for just 60 million dollars, then you're no better than those women who entertain men in clubs!" In my past life, I had an abortion at Julie's suggestion and pursued legal action against Connor, accusing him of assault. I later sought financial assistance and support from Julie after my parents fell gravely ill, but Julie slapped me hard across the face instead. "Your parents are seriously ill, and instead of figuring things out on your own, you come running to me, huh? You're truly shameless, Queenie!" Julie broke off our friendship right then, and I also lost the lawsuit against Connor. I couldn't afford the treatment, so my parents' lives were cut short by their illnesses. In the end, the grief of losing them was too much, so I decided to take my own life by jumping off a rooftop. When I open my eyes, I find myself returning to the day Julie tried to persuade me to get an abortion.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

I was in a temporary shock from an allergic reaction. The two guys I had grown up with didn't even look my way. One of them was busy helping Vivian Byrd carry a pile of gifts, while the other was snapping pictures of her at some popular social media spot. It was a stranger passing by who called an ambulance and got me to the hospital, saving my life. The next day, Vivian called, her tone almost smug. "Trish, Zeke and Hendrick were so exhausted after shopping with me yesterday. I heard you threw a tantrum and ended up in the hospital. Should I come visit you?" I simply replied, "No need." Zeke Benson and Hendrick Peay were my childhood friends. They once treated me like I was everything to them—promising to pluck the moon and stars from the sky and to protect me forever. But ever since Vivian came into the picture, their world no longer revolved around me. I thought for a moment and then dialed my mother's number. "Mom, I'll accept the marriage arrangement."

"Miss Summers, sigurado ka bang gusto mong burahin ang lahat ng iyong identity records? Kapag nabura 'to, parang hindi ka na nag-exist, at walang makakahanap sa iyo." Nagpahinga si Adele nang sandali bago tumango nang mariin. "Oo, 'yon ang gusto ko. Ayoko nang hanapin ako ng sinuman." May bahagyang pagkagulat sa kabilang linya, ngunit agad silang sumagot, "Naiintindihan ko, Miss Summers. Ang proseso ay tatagal ng mga dalawang linggo. Mangyaring maghintay nang may pasensya."

At the very beginning, he had said to her, "Wanwan, I shall fill your days with joy and happiness." Later on, he had said, "Ye Wanwan, why don't you go to hell?" As she stood upon the edge of a cliff and looked down into the abyss below, a serene expression settled on her face as she whispered helplessly, "It seems that after everything we've been through, we won't be growing old together after all, my dear Qing." At the moment of her death, however, he felt a twinge of pain in his heart. To whom would his love belong henceforth?

On the day of our tenth wedding anniversary, my wife, Cara Dempsey, jumped from ten thousand feet in the air after hearing that her first love's plane had crashed. It was only then that I finally understood the only man she ever truly loved all these years was Luthen Waltz. When we were both sent back in time to relive our teenage years, she wasted no time making a grand, public confession to Luthen, completely cutting ties with me. I just stood there, watching the two of them kiss like they couldn’t bear to be apart, and in that moment, my heart felt nothing. From that day on, we were over, and we lived our separate lives. Ten years later, we crossed paths again at a five-star hotel in Harbor City. She, who had become a celebrity adored by the world, was wearing a gown, laughing in Luthen’s arms. When she saw me wandering through the hotel, searching for someone, she thought I had come looking for her. “George, stop wasting your time! Even in ten years, I will never choose you!” I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked toward the little girl running toward me, calling me Dad, and gave her the warmest smile. Cara’s expression froze. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked out, “You lied to me, didn’t you? You said you hated kids and that you’d only ever love me.”

Richard Lorde’s childhood friend had just become a widow. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he brought his childhood friend and her daughter into a karaoke box and removed my ring right before everyone. “Lily needs a proper status right now. It’s no longer right for you to wear that ring. “Resign from your job tomorrow and take care of Lily and her daughter.” Everyone in the room fell silent as they waited for me to blow my top off. But I said nothing. I calmly brought out the divorce agreement I had already signed, put it on the table, and left. My best friend stood up to advise me against it, but Richard just swung the wine glass and snorted. “Let her. She’ll come begging for my forgiveness before tomorrow.” When I slammed the door shut, I heard laughter from the room. What they did not know was that half an hour ago, I had received a message telling me that my visa application had been approved. The person in charge of picking me up had been waiting at my house ten minutes ago. This time, I was not turning back.

My boyfriend, Christopher Linden, was short of 20 thousand dollars for his medical treatment. To get the money as soon as possible, I participated in a rich man's game onboard a lavish cruise. I didn't bat an eye as I jumped into the ocean to search for a bracelet one of their female companions had dropped in the water. As I choked on the ocean water, I heard the man in the lead mock me, saying, "I've seen plenty of the dirty things people are willing to do for money, but you take the cake. You're even willing to give up your life for it." Someone teased, "Your girlfriend doesn't like money and is willing to forgo everything to care for you. Do you love her?" He snorted. "She's just a peasant from the countryside; I'm only fooling around with her. You have no idea how coarse her hands are—they disgust me whenever she touches me. How could I possibly fall for her?" I turned ashen at his words. He was Christopher, who was supposed to be wheelchair-bound. He was also supposed to be too broke for surgery. The peasant from the countryside he was talking about was me.