Scumbag

I'm about to get married under the witness of the Goddess of the Moon. However, Carl Erickson, my partner of ten years, doesn't know it yet. Carl has recently hired a new assistant—Ivy Keating. Everyone in the wolf pack knows something amorous is going on between them; they frequently "discuss work" until the wee hours of the night. A celebration that's supposed to be for our anniversary turns into Ivy's birthday celebration. Carl orders a ten-layer mango cream cake for the celebration—it's Ivy's favorite. They get cream everywhere, but they've forgotten I'm seriously allergic to mangoes. A regular mango is as lethal to me as wolf venom is. I'm taken away by an ambulance to be rescued, and I'm alone when I wake up. Carl is still at the party, celebrating Ivy's birthday. My wolf growls unhappily, and my love for Carl dies. It's then that I agree to the marriage my family has arranged for me. I'm going to marry a true Alpha.

I am Nicholas Greene's assistant and also his secret girlfriend of ten years. At the age of 29, I bring up marriage with him. He responds coldly, "I can give you love, but I can’t give you marriage. If you are desperate to get married, I can introduce you to another man to deal with your parents." I accept calmly. A few months later, he stops me at the door. His eyes are bloodshot as he questions, "Didn’t I tell you to just pretend? How did you end up actually getting a marriage certificate with him?"

On my wedding day, my childhood friend, Finn Wheeler, kicked open the chapel doors with a whole crowd of his friends behind him. He announced that he wanted to take me away and marry me. However, we hadn’t even gone far when he suddenly let go of my hand. Then, he laughed nonchalantly and said, “Guys, I won again for the one hundredth bet. You lost. Pay up.” Only then did he turn back to look at me. “I was just joking,” he added lightly. “You didn’t actually believe me, did you? You can go back in and finish the ceremony.” Everyone laughed at how I’d pursued Finn for ten years and how I would do anything for him. However, neither Finn nor any of them knew that being taken from the altar was just one part of my wedding plan.

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

After my grandmother passed away, I returned from my countryside home to Oberis City, ready to tidy things up and prepare for my wedding. But no sooner had I arrived at the wedding planning company, ready to book an extravagant, luxurious wedding, than the staff there delivered a piece of news that struck me like a thunderbolt. The groom—my groom—had already gotten married. Three months ago, Cain Bassett, the eldest son of the wealthiest family's conglomerate, tied the knot with his childhood sweetheart, the daughter of the mayor of Lith City—Mary Schindler. Now here I stood, frowning in front of the grand gates of Cain's villa. But the thing is, I am Mary Schindler, the daughter of the mayor of Lith City.

On my birthday, my boyfriend ditched his childhood friend's desperate call to be with me. Devastated by his rejection, she spiraled into depression and ended her life. Heartbroken, he proposed to me beside her body. "I've already lost Giselle. I can't lose you, too." I said yes, moved by his grief and sincerity. But on our wedding night, he turned on me, hacking me with a knife. "You vile woman! Giselle died because of you. Time to feel her pain!" As I bled out, the girl waltzed back, saying she'd faked her death to spook him. Overjoyed, he pointed at my corpse. "Thank God, you're alive. This wretched woman is gone, and we're free to be together." They looted my wealth for their lavish wedding and happy life. When my eyes snapped open again, I was back on that fateful birthday.

I married the same man nine times. And each time, he left me for his first love, divorcing me nine times as well. The first time we parted, I lost control and threw all his belongings out the door. By the fourth divorce, I begged him to leave his luggage behind out of fear he might never return. The eighth time, I had learned to obediently pack his things, careful not to upset him. My breakdowns, my pleas, and my obedience always brought him back to me. Each time, he honored his promises. And each time, we divorced again, just like before. Until this time. This time, I packed my own things and left without telling him. A month from now, I will be gone for good.

Nakatanggap ako ng tawag isang araw bago ang aking kasal. "Miss McPherson, may sumira sa venue mo." Nagmamadali akong pumunta sa hotel nang may pagkalito at nakasalubong ko lang ang isang babaeng winwagayway ang wedding photo ko "You homewrecking skank! Inakit mo ang asawa ko at ginastos mo ang pera niya sa kasal na ito!" Naniwala ang karamihan sa kanya at nagkagulo. Pati ang manager ng hotel ay galit sa akin. "Alam ko nang may mali dito dahil hindi nagpakita ang groom! Hindi ka niya tunay na asawa!" Ang mga tao ay marahas na nagkagulo. Sa kaguluhang iyon, nakunan ako. Sa kasagsagan ng aking galit, tinext ko ang secretary ko: [Kanselahin ang kasal, at sipain si Matteo Brando sa aking kumpanya!] Ang kapal ng mukha niya na itago ang kabit niya gamit ang kayamanan ko! How dare she challenge me! Sisirain ko sila!

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

My six-year-old son, Zac Quest, deliberately fed me almond cake, which I was allergic to, to make me miscarry. Standing in front of the hospital bed, he hid behind my husband, Sterling Quest, with a long face and refused to admit his mistakes, "Grandma said you won't ever divorce Dad once you give birth to my sister. I don't want you as my mom anymore. I prefer Ms. White!" Sterling said indifferently, "We'll have other children. Winona... is indeed more fit to raise Zac than you." Hearing those words, I gave up completely. The day I was discharged from the hospital, I went back home and cleared out all my belongings. All I left behind was a divorce agreement and a letter disowning Zac.