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On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Oliver Parker, asks me to take off my wedding gown. He wants to let his childhood friend, Angela Summers, be the bride instead. In helplessness, he tries to explain, "Angela has leukemia. Her dying wish is to be a bride and have a wedding. Once I've fulfilled her wish, I'll marry you." Everyone seems to think I'll just go along with it and wait for him to come back and marry me. After all, I've spent three years preparing for this wedding. I've poured my heart into every detail and devoted so much time to making it perfect. However, while Oliver and Angela celebrate their wedding that night, I gave my biological parents a call to tell them I'm coming to be with them. I board a red-eye flight out of Stonevale, leaving everything behind without looking back. … Three years later, I flew back to Stonevale with my husband, Daniel Holden, to attend the anniversary celebration of the Holden Group's Stonevale branch. However, I never expected to run into Oliver at the airport. "You've been gone for three years. Isn't that enough time to let things go? Angela's leukemia is cured, and we're divorced now. Come back to me. Let's finally have our wedding. Don't be so stubborn anymore!"

It is 9:00 pm, and a soft glow still lights the master bedroom on the Lowe residence's second floor. "Helena, there's only a month left before the marriage agreement ends. Once it's up, I'll go ahead and arrange the fake death." Sitting at her vanity, Bianca Lane types the message and sends it to her mother-in-law, Helena Johnson. A reply comes back almost instantly. "Bianca, you've worked so hard these past ten years. You've taken such good care of Sebastian and even gave birth to a child for our family. "To me, you've always been my daughter-in-law. Why not just forget about the agreement?" Reading the message, Bianca unconsciously tightens her grip on her phone before quickly typing her response. "No, Helena. Let's just stick to the agreement."

How long does it take to give up on a man you've loved for ten years? It takes me 3 seconds. The first second, I signed my name on the contract to become the chief designer of a renowned studio in Paris. The second second, I lock away ten years of my youth in my heart. The third second, I completely prepare to leave Levi's world. My fiancé Levi is the heir of the Smith Group, the absolute aristocracy. For others, he is untouchable. But for me, he's the childhood sweetheart who, with a crooked paper ring he made himself for the first time in his hand, told me, "You're the only girl I'll ever marry, even if I have to wait a hundred years." From that moment on, the only person I wanted to marry was Levi, and I never doubted that I would eventually marry Levi. But on the day of our engagement, he disappeared. I waited for a whole year, waiting for a message, a phone call, or a knock on the door, but nothing came. Later, he finally appeared. He stood next to a red Ferrari, holding flowers, and said that he still loved me, that he wasn't ready before, and begged me to give him another chance. I almost believed him. But at the same time, I received a provocative message from Levi's first love, Ruby: [Aren't you curious where he went during the time he eloped from your engagement? I'm already pregnant with Levi's child, and he loves kissing my pregnant belly the most.] I wiped away my tears, turned around, and applied to study in the Sorbonne University Faculty of Medicine, leaving only one sentence: "Levi, we're breaking up." Learning that I was leaving, Levi went crazy. He braved the heavy rain and blocked the entrance to my new place, his eyes red, asking me: "Stella, if I make Ruby abort the child, can you come back to me?"

The night I have my bonding ceremony with the Alpha, Walter Zimmer, he gets drunk even though he usually never touches any alcohol. Just as I'm at a loss for what to do, my best friend, Rose Larson, sends me a message detailing how to take care of a drunken werewolf. Despite feeling doubtful, I do as she suggests, and Walter truly does fall asleep peacefully. Just as I'm about to thank Rose, Walter suddenly hugs me from behind. His hot breath brushes against my neck as he murmurs a sentence that utterly breaks my heart. "Rose, you're the one I wanted to mark…" My world crumbles around me, but that's not all. His shirt slips down his shoulder when he moves, revealing the rose tattooed right over his heart. My mind goes blank, and all I can do is stare at the tattoo. I refuse to believe what I'm seeing. I've known Rose for 20 years, and she's my closest friend. As it turns out, Walter didn't get drunk because he was overjoyed about becoming my mate. He simply used the alcohol to drown his sorrows over not being able to take the she-wolf he wanted as his Luna. In that moment, our newly formed mate bond seems like nothing but a joke. Since that's the case, I decide to give up my position as the Luna and let them be together. However, after I leave, Walter loses control and shifts into his wolf. He then claws the rose tattoo to shreds. "Lily, I was mistaken. You're the Luna I truly love. Please, give me another chance to love you again…"

The night Enzo was made boss of the Moretti family, I gave him my virginity. He was the heir I'd been promised to since before I could speak. We kissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, tangled in the humid, twilight heat... His rough, urgent hands hurt me, but I didn't pull away. Even the pain felt sacred, a sacrifice I was willing to make for love. Lost in the heat of the moment, he promised me a pair of the most beautiful crystal shoes, so I could dance the opening waltz with him at his coronation ceremony the next day. The first dance is always reserved for the new boss and his future bride. I cried with joy, believing my years of secret pining and patient waiting would finally culminate in a fairytale ending. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out to get his favorite espresso, only to overhear the guys joking as I returned: "So you finally popped the family cherry, huh? How was Vivian on your first night as boss?" Enzo's voice was lazy, mocking. "Face of an angel, body of a devil. She's a hot little viper in bed." The room erupted in sleazy whistles. "So, you really gonna marry her, young boss?" "Are you kidding me?" Enzo scoffed. "Vivian's just a warm-up. Once I get some practice in, I'll go tame the Falcone ice princess. When I get bored, I can always circle back and put a ring on her." I stood frozen in the doorway, my vision blurring, the coffee cup trembling in my hand. Before the world faded to black, I sent a coded message to the Don: "Uncle Romano, for the promotion in three days, get me a transfer. As far away from Enzo as possible."

My boyfriend, Allen, is a fitness coach who is cheerful, handsome, and has eight-pack abs. After getting together with me, he transferred all his female students to other colleagues and would send me daily check-in photos. In anticipation of becoming his fiancee, I happily prepared for our engagement ceremony. However, two weeks before the ceremony, I discovered a bright red lipstick mark on Allen’s workout pants. I quickly pulled up the check-in photo he had sent me that day. Through the reflection on a dumbbell, I saw a woman standing next to Allen—her lips painted in the exact same lipstick color. Most of the previous photos had flaws, but I had trusted Allen too much to notice them. Looking at his message under the photo, I let out a cold laugh. "Baby, I have to work overtime today to train a male student." He actually dared to deceive me. Just then, my phone rang. It was the wedding planning company confirming the engagement ceremony setup. I quickly responded with a confirmation. The ceremony would proceed as planned—except I had a special surprise prepared for Allen, one he would never forget.

Message alert. "Meet me backstage." Summer's heart fluttered. They were dating for four years and they had planned their lives together. Bobby would study law and complete his football career and Summer would graduate from law as well. They would open up their own law firm and have two gorgeous babies. A huge house on lake Sol with a pool and a rose garden. "This was it." Summer thought," he is going to o propose to me. I will be his fiance' and his wife in a year or two." She stood dumbstruck, watching Bobby kiss Brook passionately, squeezing her buttocks against the piano. Tears streamed down her cheek as she watched them gliding their hands all over eachother. Brooks mini dress now looking like a crop top. It was over! Her dreams were shattered. A murder mystery, revenge and an unexpected cursed Lycan mate unfolds as Summer reinvents herself.

She was an heiress to one of the most prestigious luxury shipping lines in the world, a bi-product of nobility, by birthright, Aurora was meant to oversee multibillion properties and be in charge of the Cunard brand that was well-regarded in the world. But she chose to be an ordinary yet independent woman and pursued a life of service as a cardiothoracic surgeon. To safeguard her family's assets, her parents had to make a deal with someone capable of overseeing something as big and broad as Cunard Shipping while ensuring corporate ownership retains in their bloodline. There was only one way that it can be done. Aurora needed to marry. Not just anyone. She needed to marry someone capable, with a proven track record on managing multi-million properties across all continents, someone their family trusted, and powerful enough to wield authority in handling an inevitable merger. His name was Jared Rickford. Known in the business scene as a ruthless strategist, CEO, President of Rickford Hotels International. Also playboy, ex-military, and a womanizer of the first degree. He was the most unsuitable man Aurora could ever think to be her husband. But she had no choice. She could not play surgeon in the Board Room. She needed the man's expertise to ensure that her family's corporate assets are secured, and she would do anything in her power to safeguard her dying father's legacy. Including agreeing to be married to the devil.

After my stepsister, Jennifer Nichols, died in a tragic accident, Julian Asher hated me for ten whole years. He was the youngest star attorney in Vaxton Bay. He was always calm and composed, yet he never once hid his disgust toward me. I gave up everything for him: my education, my family, my friends, even the inheritance I was meant to receive. I stayed by his side through the grueling bar exam and the brutal early days of his career. But all he ever said was, "Miley, if you really want to please me, go ahead and die." The only woman he ever loved in this lifetime was my stepsister. And I realized that far too late. It wasn't until a fire broke out unexpectedly in the courthouse archives and I was trapped upstairs that something changed. Julian ran in to save me. The blaze devoured everything in its path. In the end, he shoved me out of the rubble. The collapsing steel beams crashed down on him. Blood spilled everywhere. Outside the operating room, I fell to my knees, begging the heavens to let him live. Before he died, he left me one final message with the doctor. "Miley, I hope we never meet again in the next life." At his funeral, his mother slapped me hard across the face—again and again. "You're a cursed wretch. Killing Jennifer wasn't enough for you; now you've killed my son too. I never should've agreed to let Julian marry you." His father dragged me to my knees by my hair, forcing me to kneel. "This is all my fault. I was too soft-hearted. Julian saved you three times, and all you ever brought him was misery!" Everyone believed I was the reason Julian died. And deep down, I believed it too. In the end, I slit my wrists and took my own life—only to awaken back in university, at the very moment we was supposed to get engaged. This time, I made a choice. I would not chase after him again. I would step aside and let him be with the one he loved most—my stepsister, Jennifer.

An underwater volcano has been detected showing unusual activity, with the potential to erupt at any moment. Evacuations in the surrounding sea area have already begun. My husband, Ethan Gibson, boarded a lifeboat with his true love, Aria York, leaving me—his pregnant wife—behind. Not only that, he scolded me for being jealous at the worst possible time. "Aria can't swim. I have to take her first. What more do you want? I left the life jacket for you—isn't that enough?" "I'm pregnant… I'm scared…" I tried to plead. "Enough! Wendy, what's wrong with you? Why do you always have to be so dramatic?" That night, I was still nowhere to be found. Furious, he sent me a message: [Wendy! Where the hell are you? Do you have to take things this far?] [I'm telling you; I'm not coming to look for you. If you come back now, I'll act like this never happened. But if you don't, then don't bother coming back—ever!] However, Ethan… I couldn't come back anymore.