Attack On Titan Next Generation Novels & Stories

Someone started a thread on a forum asking, [Do men become stingy with their wives after marriage?] The replies were full of women complaining about how cheap and calculating their husbands were. My husband, however, went in the opposite direction. After we got married, he handed me his payroll card to manage and kept only a few dozen dollars a month for his own expenses, as though he had truly given everything to me and to this family. I shook my head and was about to respond when my mother-in-law's call interrupted me. "Chloe, Josh's god sister is sick. She needs $4,500." My husband immediately slipped an arm around my shoulders and assured me, "Don't worry. We'll use my salary. You won't have to pay a cent." "Alright," I said. Seeing how certain he was, I transferred one dollar to him on the spot and added a note: Medical expenses transferred. When my mother-in-law saw the transfer, she flew into a rage, sharply accusing me of being jealous and petty, even withholding money meant to save a life. I remained unmoved. "That's all there is on the card." She completely lost her temper, threatening to come over and audit how many kickbacks I had supposedly pocketed over the years. I agreed to settle the accounts. That was when my husband suddenly lost his enthusiasm.

My name's Skylar Sothisby. I became the heiress to an internationally renowned fine and decorative art auction house after my brother, Dean, died in a car crash. Like any head of an elite family, my father wanted a successor for our empire. He selected three exceptionally handsome and talented young men and groomed them into business geniuses in their own right, so that one day I could choose one of them as my husband. Of the three, Corbin Ford was his favorite. I tried to grow close to him as well, but he always kept a certain distance. I began to wonder if he was either celibate or inclined the other way, until one day I overheard him speaking to Irina, my late brother's widow, in the courtyard. "You know why I agreed to marry Skylar, don't you, Irina? So I can see you every day." He continued, "Once I become the head of the family business, I'll give you anything and everything you want, sweetie." Before a company soirée, my father summoned me to his study. He asked whether I had decided whom to marry. I smiled. "I choose Cyrus Brennan." He stared at me in shock. "Cyrus? But he's effectively vasectomized after that plane accident two years ago. He can't have children."

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

My Alpha brother's Omega assistant had always wanted to be Luna. She didn’t know my identity and she mistook me as a rival trying to steal her place. She framed me for theft and tortured me without mercy. As I lay dying, it was my old companion—Rex, the Siberian war dog who had fought beside my brother and earned the highest military honors—who sacrificed his life to protect me. She dragged me by my hair, smugly satisfied, and threw me before the crowd like refuse. In her hands, she flaunted her "gift" made from Rex's fur. She had no idea she was about to face the fury of the entire werewolf world.

My fiancée is a forensic doctor, and I'm a detective in the major crimes unit. I love her more than life itself, but she only cares about her first love. To help him wash his hands of a murder, she helps him deal with a corpse. What she doesn't know is that it's my corpse. When she learns the truth, she breaks down…

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.

Adrian had fallen into his brother's trap. Stripped of his Alpha title, he was exiled from the pack. On the road into exile, he was ambushed by rogue wolves. Broken and hopeless, he stopped fighting altogether, ready to die. As Adrian's kept lover, I was about to abandon him and run for my life — until a flood of glowing comments rolled across my vision. [The villainess is finally showing her true colors. Once she's gone, there'll be nothing stopping the hero and heroine from meeting.] [But she doesn't know the hero is still alive. When he reclaims his Alpha title, the first thing he does is exile everyone who ever betrayed him — the villainess included. She gets torn apart by rogue wolves in the end, and honestly, she deserves it.] My blood ran cold. Before I could even think, I threw myself into the rogues and took a claw strike meant for him. Adrian stared at me in disbelief. I turned back to him, forcing a grin through the pain. "Adrian, don't you dare die on me — who's going to keep me fed?"

I was married to my husband for ten years, but our relationship had long been a façade. In front of his family, he acted like the perfect husband, keeping up appearances. Behind my back, he would have an affair with Mindy Benson, seeking excitement. One day, while I was working at the hospital, my husband brought Mindy here for a prenatal checkup. “The baby is already eight months along. Where is the father?” “Tyler, the doctor is asking for you.” Mindy clung to him, and the two looked like quite a pair. Our eyes met, and I managed a bitter smile. This time, I would no longer go along with the charade.

At eight months pregnant, I was hit by a car and gave birth early. But unexpectedly, I regained my hearing. Outside the operating room, my husband was talking to the doctor. “Mr. Griffin, the baby is fully developed and stable. A normal delivery should be possible—” Albert Griffin cut him off immediately, “No, induce the labor now! I promised Summer that I would let our child rightfully join the Griffin family. Paulina is almost a month old. If she gets any older, people will figure out the truth. “If this baby doesn’t make it, that’s fine. She can always have another one. But this is the only way she will truly believe that Paulina is her own child.” I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself to stay calm. He thought his lies were perfect, but he was wrong. I heard everything. And if he could lie and pretend, so could I.

It took me ten years to become the right hand to Damian Costello, the Consigliere of the Costello crime family. From a nobody to the woman wearing his engagement ring. But two weeks before the wedding, I decided to throw that ring away. Everyone in the family knew how hard I had fought all these years just to stand by Damian's side. I gave up the chance to become a top trader on Wall Street, willingly becoming Damian's assistant, his shadow. This man was infamous for his coldness and exacting nature, keeping everyone at arm's length. So I hid my sharp edges, spending a decade wearing down his icy exterior with gentleness. I cleansed the blood from every dollar he made. I became a necessity to him, as essential as the air he breathed. I thought that after ten years, I had finally made my presence indispensable. And finally earned what looked, to outsiders, like a glimmer of his affection. The family's notoriously aloof genius actually remembered my birthday. He even made an exception, letting me spend the night in his private study when I was unwell. He didn't even push me away when, emboldened by wine, I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. If the Don's daughter, Isabella, hadn't returned from Italy, I might have kept playing my part, clinging to that false dream forever. But sadly, there are no ‘ifs’. I am going to give up everything here and leave you.