A Farewell To Arms Plot Summary Novels & Stories

My blood-bonded mate, Prince Dorian, despised me. I was just a mortal to him. A girl with filthy blood. His eternity was already promised to a pureblood—Cordelia. When she died in an accident, he blamed me. Hated me for ten years. But when rival vampires attacked our castle, he saved me. Bleeding out in my arms, he used his last breath to push my shaking hands away. "Odette... if only the Bond had never tied us together." At his wake, they kicked me out. So I climbed to the top of their family’s skyscraper—a place they arrogantly called "Heaven's Needle"—and jumped. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night the ancient Blood Bond chose me as his mate. This time, I'm setting him free. And myself along with him.

My fiancee falls for someone else after going abroad to study. Her parents refuse to call off the engagement, and since we grew up together, I beg her to really think it through. In the end, she breaks up with him and marries me. But three years later, my shares are transferred without my consent. My company goes bankrupt, and I'm left drowning in huge debts. My parents can't take the pressure and pass away. Meanwhile, my wife leans into the arms of that same man from before and sneers, "You brought this on yourself." The next time I wake up, I realize I've gone back to the moment she just returned home. Watching her get cozy with another guy, I step up and suggest calling off the engagement. She thinks I can save my failing business by marrying her. But what she doesn't realize is that her own family's the one heading for ruin.

The year Lawrence Scott and I were most in love, he died in a car accident. Everyone thought I would fall apart, but I did not cry, and I did not scream. Two years later, I ran into him at a private lounge: Lawrence was there, holding a young girl in his arms, kissing her passionately. His friends hurried over to explain: "Back then, Lawrence was badly injured in the crash and fell into a coma. He just woke up recently but lost his memory. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to worry." Lawrence pushed the girl aside, frowned slightly, and looked straight at me. "So you're the fiancée I supposedly forgot? I don't remember you, but since you never gave up on me, I'll honor my promise to marry you." I smiled faintly and said, "They lied to you. We don't know each other." What Lawrence did not know was that on the day he faked his death, I received a video. In it, he was laughing and saying to his friends, "The thought of spending the rest of my life with only Yoana drives me crazy. I'll fake my death, take a few years off to have fun. Just keep her company so she doesn't do anything stupid." He also did not know that during those two years he was 'dead,' I had found someone else.

We were on our way to celebrate our son’s birthday when we got into a car crash. When I woke up, I looked at my family gathered around my hospital bed and cracked a joke: “Sorry, but who are you guys?” I held back a smile, curious to see how they'd humor their "amnesiac" patient. Would my mother grab my hand in a panic? Would my husband look at me with worry? Would my son rush over, crying and calling me Mom? What I didn't expect was for them to freeze for a moment—and then, almost in unison, let out sighs of relief. My mother was the first to speak, her tone unmistakably lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted. "If you don’t remember, it’s probably for the best. This is Lindsay—your sister, she’s my daughter. You were adopted." My husband then pointed at me and said to our son, "You should call her Aunt Wendy." Before the shock could even sink in, I watched the child I'd fought so hard to protect turn and throw himself into the arms of Lindsay. "Mom! I played outside all day. I missed you so much!" So that was the truth. My amnesia was exactly what they'd been hoping for. In that case, I didn't need this made-up life anymore.

After being reborn, the first thing I did was switch my newborn daughter. In my previous life, soon after she was born, a blood test showed her type was AB. But mine was B, and my husband's was O—there was absolutely no way we could have an AB-type child. My husband flew into a rage and demanded a paternity test on the spot. To everyone's shock, the results proved she was biologically related to me, but not to him. He slapped me hard across the face, his voice trembling with disappointment. "I've always treated you well. I only ever loved you—and this is how you repay me?" My mother-in-law wailed and cursed me for cheating, accusing me of bearing another man's child to steal their family fortune. I was completely stunned. I knew better than anyone who the father of my child was—how could she possibly not be my husband's? In no time, everyone turned against me. They called me a cheater, a tramp. My husband divorced me and went online to play the victim, stirring up a storm of hate and harassment that never seemed to end. With nowhere to go and no one left to believe me, I took my baby in my arms and jumped from a building. Even in death, I couldn't make sense of it all. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my daughter was born.

Eight years ago, a night of drunken recklessness left me carrying Grayson Ulrich's child. But from that moment on, he began to hate both me and our daughter. He never allowed her to call him "Dad." He wouldn't let me step into his study, either. Because inside that study, every inch of space was filled with traces of another woman—Sandra Wright, the ex-fiancée who had once left him for freedom and happiness, who had gone abroad to marry a rich man. She was the one Grayson could never forget. The one he still loved. On our eighth anniversary, Sandra returned. That night, Grayson got drunk for the first time in years. He held our daughter in his arms and wept until his eyes were red. My daughter looked at me, bewildered. "Mom, why is Uncle crying?" I held back my tears and told her softly, "Because he is very happy. The person he loves has finally come back." Then I said, "So, Mommy's taking you away—so we won't disturb him and the woman he loves, okay?"

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

Elizabeth had her entire future planned: a perfect proposal to Alex on Valentine’s Day, followed by a dream getaway to the Maldives. But her carefully crafted fantasy shatters when she catches Alex, her longtime boyfriend, in the arms of his assistant. Heartbroken and furious, Elizabeth storms out, only to make a spur-of-the-moment decision that changes her life forever. In her desperation to prove she’s moved on, she impulsively slips her engagement ring onto a stranger’s finger—Simeon, a charismatic and mysterious man who unexpectedly says, “I do.” As their whirlwind fake marriage begins, Elizabeth soon discovers Simeon isn’t just any stranger—he’s Alex’s boss. Now, she’s caught in a storm of emotions, power plays, and unexpected feelings. While Simeon’s charm pulls her in, Alex isn’t ready to let her go, leading to a battle of love, loyalty, and redemption. Can Elizabeth untangle the mess of her broken heart and impulsive choices? Or will her impromptu marriage to Simeon turn into something more real than she ever imagined?

Isolde Vancrest had witnessed the ultimate betrayal. Her long-time fiancé, Alan Princeton, had gotten his own sister-in-law pregnant, and he had the audacity to defend it. Alan: "You can't have children. The family can't end with me." How ironic. This was the same man who had once knelt nine times to propose, swearing he would rather be sterile than ever hurt her. If love was a joke, then pride had lost all meaning. That night, Isolde called the one man in Southbridge whose name most people feared to speak. By morning, she was his wife. When Alan saw her again, it was at her wedding. He dropped to his knees, eyes red. Alan: "Honey, I was wrong. Please… look at me." Isolde took a step back and fell into the arms of the man behind her. "The Prince," the ruthless ruler of half the city, wrapped an arm around her waist. "Seems you've forgotten your place." His voice was biting cold as he looked down at Alan. "Now she’s someone you don’t deserve to even look at."

“I want her back for myself, don't you get it?” His thick, manly voice screamed at his brother. “You must let go of her, Orion. Emilia is mine and mine alone.” After many months of dating her, he shattered her heart for no reason. He lets go of her after so many calls from her to fix their broken relationship, but he is nonchalant about it. Now he wants her back because his twin brother has her to himself. Tristan, the City's nightmare will do anything to have Emilia back in his arms and to himself. Anything including hurting her and his twin brother, while he sought for ways to have the Alpha's throne to himself. Find out in ‘The Alpha Twins’ what happens to the perfect but imperfect relationship between Orion and Emilia, the one-time girlfriend of Tristan, the City's nightmare.