Novel & Cerita Aizen Smiling

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post. "My husband or my lover, which should I choose?" An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments. "Why choose? I want both." What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair. Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out. Her answer was chilling. "Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake." The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.' The same tattoo worn by my wife.

Aiva is just a she-wolf leading an ordinary life like anybody else. But she was rejected just after her new engagement with her new boyfriend. No time to feel sorry for the loss of her relationship, she had to pay for her brother's school fees and debts. Being the manager of the Bikers' Club, she decided to take an advance from her boss, Leo Williams, the very person she is most afraid of. But she only encountered him with a she-wolf on her knees as she was giving him a blowjob. Leo's eyes matched hers, and he asked, smiling, "Wanna join?" Leo Williams is the Alpha of Howl Pack, and the Bikers' Club is just one of his many organizations. His eyes, mind, and heart were set on Aiva the moment he saw her once. And, now that she is rejected, and her second-chance mate, who would stop him from letting his desires, obsession, and possessiveness over her grow? She is his. His MATE. His to be with from the moment he laid his eyes on her.

In my last life, my in-laws "died," and my so-called DINK husband, Eric, begged me to raise his sweet little "brother," Luca. Seven years flew by. That scrawny kid turned into a total cutie and blew up online—pulling in tens of thousands a month. Then one night, boom—Eric's parents came back from the dead. And with them? Tammy. Eric's first love. She clung to Eric with one hand, Luca with the other, all smug as hell. "I've been traveling for seven years. I'm tired. And wow, what a perfect son—thanks for raising him." Eric's parents didn't even pretend to care. "You couldn't give Eric a kid, but at least you were useful this once." "Sign the divorce papers. Make room for Tammy." I walked out of that law firm wrecked—and right into the path of a speeding car. Tammy was behind the wheel, smiling like she won. Next thing I knew, I woke up on the same day Eric's parents had "died."

On our wedding day, the big screen glitched—then flipped to kissing shots of Caleb Gorman and his "girl best friend," Holly Beech. Holly shot up, hand over her mouth, smiling all fake-innocent. "Relax, everyone. We were just messing around. Caleb and I go way back. Guess that makes me wife number two." Caleb smiled, soft like always. "That's just her. No filter. Don't take it seriously." I looked at him. Calm. "She plays kissing pics of you two at our wedding and calls herself your 'wife number two.' That's messing around?" His face tightened. Annoyed. "It's a few photos. We've been together five years. You're really gonna nitpick something this small and not let it—" I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Yeah. I am. I'm not letting it go." That hit him. He wasn't used to me standing firm. I turned to the crowd. "This wedding's over."

Stanley Hamilton and I were basically Southport's favorite hate-watch couple. For Elodie—my oh-so-perfect adopted sister—he wrecked my company and had my parents thrown in prison. I, in turn, drove Elodie to her death, making him watch as she jumped off a rooftop. Our forced marriage? Just a slow ride from mutual disgust straight into mutual destruction. Then came the car explosion. Stanley, who'd hated me forever, still used his last breath to shove me out of the blast. "Vivienne Weston, one lifetime tangled with you is enough. If there's a next one, let's never meet." He touched the tattoo of Elodie's name on his neck, smiling faintly as the flames took him. After he died, I wandered through life half-dead myself until illness finished the job. When I woke up in the past, staring at two betrothal contracts, I didn't hesitate—I picked the guy everyone swore was insane. Stanley and my dad? I handed them right back to Elodie. This time, I wanted no meetings, no memories, no strings. Ever again.

“Your mate will appear at twenty.” Nathan waited years for that moment. For one person. Mikhail. His best friend. His first love. The one he could never have. So when Nathan turns twenty and sees Mikhail walk in with a girlfriend, smiling like nothing ever mattered, he finally lets go of a love he’s held onto since childhood. He drinks. He laughs. He pretends he’s fine. Until the string appears. A burning thread wraps around his wrist—tight, inescapable. And it doesn’t lead to Mikhail. It leads somewhere else. Somewhere worse. Right beneath a half-open door. Valentino. Mikhail’s older brother. The man Nathan has always hated. The man who looks at him like he’s a problem. The man fate has chosen for him. Now bound by a string he can’t ignore—and refuses to accept—Nathan is faced with a cruel truth: What if destiny doesn’t care who you love? What if it ties you to the one person you never wanted? And what happens when the more he tries to cut the string… …the tighter it pulls?

Three years married to Victor, the Don, and as far as New York was concerned, we were untouchable. Until my own car was in the shop, so I took his daily driver from the garage. On the way, I activated the car's smart system and said, "Navigate home." But the screen pinpointed a place I had never seen before — a villa in the suburbs. Then, a sugary-sweet voice floated from the speakers: "Okay! Setting course for Victor and Mia's secret castle." My stomach dropped. Who was Mia? And what secret castle? Without a second thought, I dialed his number. "The home address is set to some strange place." He just laughed it off. "Oh, that. One of my guys' car broke down the other day. I let him use mine to drop someone off." "Okay, no problem," I said, smiling into the phone. I ended the call and pulled up the navigation history. That villa address was listed seventeen times, every single one on a day Victor was supposedly "out of town on business." I fired up the engine and drove.

The New Year's Day had barely started when my usually unromantic husband, Everett Grant, surprised me by booking a tour for me. The moment I settled into the bus, however, a line of text suddenly drifted across my vision. [Poor Tina! Her jerk husband booked a one-dollar tour for her, and then turns around and drops ten grand taking his mistress overseas.] I froze, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me, and kept chatting with the woman beside me as if nothing had happened. Then the messages showed up again. [Seriously? Tina's still smiling like an idiot. She has no idea this tour is really a trafficking ring. Once they get her to the island, she's done for!] [Oh, no! The bus leaves in three minutes. Is Tina actually gonna die like this? That's such a miserable way to go!] The bus had been quiet until the tour guide suddenly spoke up. "We'll be departing shortly. It's about an hour's ride. After that, we'll transfer to a boat to reach the island."

Wanting to give my boyfriend, Justin Letterman, a surprise on Valentine's Day, I throw myself at him when he enters the room. I push him against the door and kiss him passionately. It isn't easy to transfer the spiked wine from my mouth into his, but his reaction is cold and indifferent. He says nothing as he pushes me aside to turn on the light. "Don't you want my first time anymore, darling?" I ask bashfully as I grab his hand. His breathing turns heavy in an instant. Smiling, I slip my hand under his shirt, but I'm distracted when I hear the front door creak open. "Babe," Justin coos in a deep and hoarse voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?" my best friend, Natalie Quinn, asks coyly. The wanton noises of kissing and moaning echo into the room. Before I can snap back to my senses, I'm yanked into a closet. Am I the one getting caught, or am I the one doing the catching?

I'm getting married. But Ryder, my boyfriend of seven years, has no idea. He recently hired a new assistant, Blair, and has been swamped ever since. The two of them are the toast of the high-society circuit, a perfect power couple frequently seen at galas and parties together. To celebrate a major project Blair landed, Ryder booked an entire restaurant for a celebratory dinner. During the dinner, Blair intentionally swapped my lemonade for a strong cocktail. Unaware, I took a large sip. Ryder just watched, smiling playfully as he asked, “How is it, baby? How does it taste?” He forgot. He forgot that I have a deadly alcohol allergy. My throat swelled shut faster than I could have imagined. As I collapsed, the only sounds were my own gasps for air and a porcelain plate shattering on the floor. That night, I lay in the family's private medical wing. When I opened my eyes, the oxygen mask was still pressed to my face. I nodded at my mother. The arranged marriage. I agreed to it.