Amber Run I Found Meaning Novels & Stories

Adela opened her eyes, she found herself lying in the body of a strange woman, her body covered in blood, a large number of strange memories flooded her mind. Reincarnation! Truly Reborn! She is still a queen when she closes her eyes, after opening her eyes, she becomes a completely different person, imprisoned in vague memories.

At the company holiday party raffle, I'd barely stepped on stage when my superior, Victor Grant, shoved a crumpled slip into my hand. "Special prize for our top sales guy. Go on, open it. Let's show everyone." All eyes were on me as I unfolded it. Scrawled across the paper: [VIP janitor status unlocked—every toilet in the company, three days.] The room lost it—laughter everywhere. Victor crossed his arms, grinning. "Fair, right? Everyone knows you climbed the ranks hooking up with rich cougars. Gotta avoid hard feelings for the others, yeah? While the rest of us take a break, you can get busy. You're not gonna back out, are you?" The crowd cracked up. My girlfriend—and CEO—Rachel Sullivan stood off to the side, watching. Didn't say a word. Everyone waited for me to explode. Instead, I just nodded. Next day, over 300 refund requests hit. Cash flow flatlined. Victor and Rachel begged me to talk the buyers down. I shrugged. "Nah. Don't wanna save the company and make my performance too good. That'd just cause more ' hard feelings,' right?"

Lyra’s POV: “I don’t like her the way you think I do.” If you hear the love of your life tell this to another person, what will you do? Well, I left for eight years and returned with my fiancé. The last thing I would ever do is to sneak around with an Alpha who does not love me. Kade’s POV: “I don’t like her the way you think I do.” This was what I told her brother. I had to. I made a promise to stay away from his sister. My biggest mistake, because I would always choose Lyra over anybody. I won’t choose even myself over Lyra. I don’t know how to not love and want her. Eight years later and staying away still feels like driving a sword through my chest.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.

I had always been a little dizzy by nature. My head was often muddled. Three years ago, in that same haze, I picked up a drunk woman and brought her home. She woke up and stared at me for a while before suddenly saying, “Let’s get married.” I did not think much about it. I just nodded and thus became the rich husband of a powerful family. They gave me a credit card that I could use however I liked, and I could live in a luxury house without any limits. We had a son, but alas, he was kidnapped. It took me two years, but I managed to find him again. I was about to tell my wife when she handed me a divorce agreement. “I’m bankrupt. This is my last sum of money. Take it and leave.” At that moment, a few chat messages suddenly appeared in front of me. [Wow! The female lead’s crush, the male lead, has returned to the country!] [She is probably pretending to be bankrupt. She wants to get rid of the male supporting character to go back to the male lead!] [She got drunk back then because the male lead left. The male supporting character was just a stand-in!] What? So I was a replacement? I nodded slowly. “Oh. Then let’s get a divorce.” The light in her eyes went out at once. I looked at her and felt that I had forgotten to say something. Whatever. I would say it when I remembered.

When I caught Christian Helmley cheating on me for the tenth time, he dragged his lover over without any hesitation and let me decide her fate. When I caught him cheating for the 28th time, he cried and groveled and begged for my forgiveness. The man went so far as to curse his bloodline for that. By the ninety-eighth time, nothing he did could touch me anymore. I was numb. All I did was crouch beyond the door of his study while he and his lover were going at it like animals. Then it was the last time I caught him cheating. He came back and kissed me right after sleeping with another woman. One day before I left, he barged in with a crying girl in his arms. Christian berated me, accusing me of killing his son. "I can't believe you! You're not the woman I know!" He pressed the tip of a fountain pen against my belly, and I forced my tears back. "I don't want any other woman carrying my children. I only want Jasmine! God, can you stop being possessive for one second? You're practically a hag now, Natasha. Pull this again, and I'll send you to an asylum!" All that elicited from me was a bitter smile. I had no strength left to argue. "Yes, yes, I envy her. She took my husband from me, but I guess I should say goodbye and bless your relationship on the way out now." Then I jumped into the rolling sea right before his eyes. Only one thought remained in my mind. 'That's the last of the love I had for you, Christian.'

After my husband, Joseph Adams, hired thugs to smash my taco stand again, I pushed the destroyed remains to his company’s anniversary banquet. Joseph had his arm around his little secretary, Monica Martin, when he announced that she would soon be joining the company’s management team. I pressed the horn and called out, “Tacos for sale to support my husband’s mistress—three thirty a piece!” Amid the stunned and bewildered stares of the crowd, Joseph’s brows twisted into a deep frown.

I went to sleep a nobody. I woke up a Queen. One night I was just a broke, exhausted college girl. The next, I opened my eyes in silk sheets, with strangers bowing and calling me Luna Queen. The face in the mirror is mine. The body is mine. But the life isn’t. The bruises on my wrists tell a story I don’t remember, and the King I’m bound to doesn’t love me—he loathes me. They whisper that his mistress rules the palace. They say the Queen was weak. Silent. Broken. But that was before me. Now I must survive a palace that wants me dead, a King whose touch burns as much as it scars, and a kingdom waiting for me to fail. The old Luna Queen bowed to cruelty. I am not her. And if this King thinks I’ll kneel, he’s about to learn what a true Queen is made of.

I stared at the Vercetti marriage contract my father pushed across the table. Without hesitation, I wrote my half-sister’s name, Demi, and slid it back. My father froze. Then his eyes lit up with ridiculous excitement, like he’d just won the lottery. "How can you give such a perfect chance to your sister?" Last life, my marriage was a joke for everyone around me. I was the red-haired, untamed little witch who dared to climb into the orbit of Cassian Vercetti, heir and leader of the old-blood Vercetti crime family. I was never perfect nor obedient. He loved goddess gowns. I wore mini skirts and danced on tables. He demanded missionary, traditional, orderly intimacy. I wanted to climb on top, ride him, lose myself completely. At a gala, society wives laughing at my hair, my dress, my “wildness.” I thought he would at least pretend to defend me. He didn’t. “Forgive her. She’s not…properly trained.” Trained. Like a dog. I spent my entire last life suffocating under his rules, bending myself bloody to fit the shape he wanted, until the night our house caught fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I learned of the arranged marriage. I looked at the contract in front of me. This time? I think the nightclub boys suits me better. But the moment Cassian realized the bride wasn’t me, he shattered every rule he’d ever lived by.