After Amnesia, I Refuse To Be A Doormat Luna Novels & Stories

On seeing Francesco’s name, I temporarily forgot all about my cramps and swiftly answered the call.  “You are so hot, it’s fucking insane. I just can’t seem to get enough of you, April.” Francesco growled, and my eyes widened into the size of saucers.  “Ugh, i-it just won't go all the way in, should we try a different position?” April moaned, which made me cough out a joyless laughter.  “Maybe you should stop moving and let me do the work, baby,” My husband replied, and I huffed mirthlessly. + Josephine Perkins used to believe happy endings existed only in fairytales until she met Francesco De Luca, her angel in human form. However, when she’s diagnosed with infertility three years into their marriage, Francesco’s attitude changes toward her completely and she becomes miserable. Her despondency is further heightened when she finds out about his other woman. One day while Francesco is with his other woman, she surprisingly has a miscarriage and nearly bleeds to death. Having had enough, Josephine divorces him amidst several obstacles. Five years later they meet again, when Francesco’s company is about to get taken from him and Josephine has now become a renowned lawyer. Will Josephine put aside their past differences and help him keep his company? What more when a new man shows up to win Josephine’s heart, will Francesco ever get a second chance to make amends?

What's the first thing you'd do if you were reborn? Me? I'd start by divorcing my husband, Finn Gallagher. Yeah, Finn Gallagher, the same man who runs half the underworld from behind closed doors. The Don. The richest man alive. The man women dream about; his face plastered on magazines, named "Sexiest Man Alive" five years in a row. In my last life, I tried everything to make him look at me like I mattered. I married him. I gave birth to his son. I swallowed every ounce of pride, trying to be the perfect wife. However, it didn't work. To him, I was no different than a waitress he might casually tip—forgettable, replaceable, invisible. So this time, I'm not begging. I'm not pretending. I'm handing Madeline Brooks the key to my place in his life, and walking away. She's Finn's first love, and also the shadow that haunted every day of my last life. Now Madeline was sitting opposite to me, blinked at me like she didn't hear me right. "You tried so hard to push me out," she said slowly, eyes narrowed. "Now you want me to be with Finn?" "Yes. That's all I'm asking. Just talk to Finn. Tell him to sign the divorce papers." I looked at her confused face and kept going. "Everyone knows I'm the last person who'd ever let Finn go. So if I say I want a divorce, he won't believe me for a second. But you? You're the one who can make that happen... aren't you?" She laughed, because she was finally getting her chance. I laughed too, because I was finally free.

Three years after getting out of prison, Zoe Sanders finally found me in an underground fight club. The moment she saw me, she grabbed me by the collar and punched me across the face, her eyes burning red with fury. "Henry Goldman, who gave you the nerve to disappear like this? "And what the hell have you done to yourself?" I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and laughed carelessly. "One punch, one hundred thousand. "If you’re still angry, feel free to keep going. I could use the money for this year’s rent." Her fists trembled uncontrollably, but her voice softened. "Come home with me... apologize to Ronald Green. "He’s always been kind-hearted. He already forgave you for framing him." Her gaze swept over the scars covering my body, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. "Look at yourself. Covered in blood like this... what’s the difference between you and a stray dog digging through garbage?" My body stiffened. Then I turned and walked away. What she did not know was this: In prison, blood and violence were the only ways I learned to survive. "Don’t forget," she shouted after me, "I’m still your fiancée!" My footsteps stopped. How could I forget? Three years ago, on the night of our engagement, Ronald drugged me and sent me to a black-market auction. I was stripped of all dignity and sold like merchandise. That night, I became the laughingstock of the entire city. And the person who signed the papers that sold me… was my fiancée herself.

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

For twenty years, Kyle and I were each other’s salvation. On the day he confessed his feelings, he promised to give me a warm and loving home. However, everything changed when the Gill family found him and brought him back, naming him the Crown Prince of High Society. Overnight, I went from being his proud fiancée to nothing more than his hidden canary in a gilded cage. With another woman in his arms, his voice was cold and distant, “The eldest young master of the Gill family can’t marry an orphan.” At that moment, my heart shattered completely. I left the capital that very night. Later, I heard I had become the Gill family’s unspoken taboo. That once-proud Young Master Gill ended up confined to a mental institution, clinging to a doll and whispering my name day after day.

After saving my girlfriend, Tiffany Swain, I suffer from a concussion, leading to me getting rushed to the hospital. That's when I decide to play a prank on her. "Who are you?" When I see Tiffany's expression freeze on her face, I almost burst out laughing. But Tiffany suddenly points at her best friend, Janet Emery. "I'm your fiancee's friend. That's your fiancee, Janet Emery." This time, my expression freezes on my face. Janet approaches me at that moment. "That's right. I'm your fiancee." I squeeze out a smile at her. "Let's go home, then."

My dad, Frank Stanford, was an Alpha. I, Lana Stanford, was his only daughter. The year I turned eighteen, he told me to choose a mate from the nine werewolf warriors he had taken in. I avoided Simon Eaton, the one I used to be obsessed with. In my previous life, I was kidnapped by rogues on the very day of my marking ceremony. When they drove silver nails soaked in wolfsbane through my palms, I endured the agony and sent a desperate plea through our mind link. “Simon, help me.” All I got back was his cold response. “Lana Stanford, are you done yet? Is this another lame trick of yours? “You actually hurt yourself just to get me to come see you? You're disgusting.” I closed my eyes in despair. As the silver cage sank into the frozen lake, icy water filled my lungs. My wolf let out a final, broken cry and died with me. When I woke up again, I'd returned to the day my dad asked me to choose a mate. This time, the very first thing I did was cross Simon’s name off the list. Later, he stood in front of me with tearful eyes and asked why I hadn’t chosen him. I didn’t answer. I just looked at him strangely. “Simon, this time, I did exactly what you wanted. Why are you crying again?”

My uncle, Jackson Yates, was a born pervert. While studying abroad, he was arrested for harassing female classmates and making lewd comments toward a female teacher. He was expelled and sent back home. After returning to the country, under the protection of my billionaire grandfather, he lived like an emperor, keeping hundreds of lovers in a villa. All of them vied for his attention. One day, he set his sights on my gentle, well-mannered wife—the rumored piano prodigy, Janelle Sanders. “My dear nephew, all because you grabbed your grandpa’s hand during your first birthday party game, the entire family chose you as the future heir. But as long as I don’t agree, you’ll never succeed.” He constantly harassed her, both verbally and physically. Janelle never tolerated it. She reported him to the police several times, resulting in him getting detained. She even scolded him sternly, “Cyril and I grew up together. Uncle Jackson, please remember your place!” Out of respect for his seniority, Janelle usually just reprimanded him coldly and walked away. Two years later, Jackson seemed to change. He took the initiative to manage a subsidiary and handled everything with impressive efficiency. Grandfather was pleased and handed the entire branch over to him. Just when I thought everything had returned to normal… At our son’s one-month celebration banquet, I saw Janelle in the kitchen. She was dressed provocatively as she desperately pressed herself against Jackson. Jackson lifted his head from her chest and gave me a smug smile.

When her husband, Harvey Fontaine, had an affair with her best friend and pushed her off the building during an argument. Olivia Winehouse was reborn three days after the incident, when her husband was live on the news, informing the world about her death. Determined to rewrite her fate, she vowed to divorce Harvey, expose those who had destroyed her, and reclaim her place as the country's princess. But escaping Harvey proves harder than dying and inheriting her father's will means she must marry or lose everything to her stepfamily and greedy uncles. With every hand turned against her and every path carefully blocked, she finds herself trapped once again in a web of manipulation and power. Her only way out? A dangerous alliance with Warren Fletcher, her husband's greatest rival, her longtime admirer, and the one man she knows she should never involve in her family.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?