Attack On Titan The Next Generation Novels & Stories

The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack. After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth. However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off. "It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me. "Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress." I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me. Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side. That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

When Isabelle discovers her husband Karl's three-year affair with Natalie, her world shatters. For eight years, she believed in their love, even as she struggled to conceive the child he desperately wanted. Now pregnant and heartbroken, Isabelle must decide whether to confront the betrayal or silently endure for the sake of her unborn child. But then darker truths come knocking at the door, leaving Isabelle wondering strangely on how to handle things. Where there is strength, there is also toxic love. But can she be bound to it forever?

I was eight months pregnant, at a charity gala with my husband, Don Massimo, when a rival family hit us. The crowd panicked. I was shoved to the floor, hard. Blood everywhere. Massimo lost his mind, screaming for medics, desperate to save my baby. But when I woke up, they were gone. Both of them. No baby, no Massimo. I remembered the gunfire, Massimo shielding me with his body. A cold dread washed over me. I hauled myself into a wheelchair and raced down the hall. That’s when I heard them—Massimo and the doctor. "Boss, I'm sorry. We did everything we could. The baby… he didn't make it." Tears streamed down my face. They killed my baby. The rival family killed my baby. But his next words shattered my world. "There was only one medical team. I had to make a choice. Bianca… she was carrying my child, too." Massimo sighed, then gave the order. "No one tells Arabella. She'll raise Bianca's son as her own. He will be my only heir." I slapped a hand over my mouth, my vision blurred by tears as I turned away. The man I loved was a lie. Fine. If he wants a war, he'll get one.

After my family went bankrupt, I begged my fiancé Ryan to pump cash into our business. He didn't just refuse. He turned around and got engaged to someone else. When I was at the end of my rope, Ethan Brooks stepped up, tossing all his savings into my family's mess. Sadly, we missed our shot, and our company crashed. My parents couldn't handle it. They jumped off a building. Even so, I was thankful to Ethan and married him to pay him back. Three years later, at Lily Carter's birthday party, I overheard her talking to him. "You tanked the Harper family so I could win that bid. Won't Kelly blame you?" "For you, I'd give up everything. I'll just make it up to her." My blood ran cold as I realized our marriage was all a lie. The one he loved was Lily all along. I turned and left. If he was that hooked, I'd set him free.

On my wedding day with Jack Miller, he ran off with his first love As if to taunt me, he would send a photo of himself with her from every new destination they visited. I was getting a manicure and enjoying imported French pastries with my afternoon tea when I received their ninety-ninth photo. But after three years of absence, Jack suddenly returned. He pointed at my wedding photo with someone else and shouted, “How dare you fool around with another man while I was gone!" I couldn't help but laugh. "What other man? I've been married to my husband for three years now." "Jack, you didn't actually think I was waiting for you all this time, did you?"

Everyone called my sister Alessia a prodigy. I was the only one who knew she was a thief. From the day I moved back into the brownstone, she started taking from me. Quietly. Carefully. My designs. My sketches. My drafts. Everything I created would appear under her name before I even had time to finish it. The family stood behind her. Always. My father, Salvatore Lucchese, head of the family, his word law itself, said he believed Alessia. So I became the liar. The plagiarist. The disgrace. They threw me out of the outfit's front shop. Blacklisted me from the industry. Erased my name. Then one of her loyal admirers ran me down in the street. That was the end. Or it should have been. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before the national jewelry competition. This time, I didn't draw a single line. Let's see what my darling sister delivers… when the well has run dry.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

I got a car straight from the Lycan Chairman himself—a ride costs more than tens of millions and can turn every traffic light green. I got it because the Lycan Chairman once fell on the battlefield, his heart torn open. And me? I'm the one bound to him by a blood-sealed contract, the only secret healer who could save his life. To win me golden hour for surgeries, I was awarded with such an honored ride. I treated it like sacred ground, kept it hidden in my mate Yorick's underground garage, polished and guarded, ready for the day the Lycan Chairman might need me again. That day came. The summons burned in my hand, urgent and sharp. I rushed to the garage, ready to drive, and the second I approached the garage, a strange woman slid into the back seat. "Take me to the Nighty Bar," she ordered, flipping her hair. "Yorick had waited for me minutes. If he's mad at me being late, I'll make you regret it." My hands froze on the wheel. "This is my car," I told her, calm but firm. "I have urgent business. You need to get out. Now." She sneered. "What a joke. A chauffeur pretending to be the owner? You must have a death wish." Her soldiers glanced at me sideways, voice dripping with disdain. "Everyone in the pack knows that this car is Alpha's exclusive for picking up Selene! You're just a little healer. Do yourself a favor and listen to her." Their words cut sharper than any blade. The car that carried the highest secret of the werewolf race, the car tied to the Chairman's very heartbeat, in their mouths, it was nothing more than a toy. A plaything my mate used to please another she-wolf. They wanted me to bow. To surrender. To sit there, silent, while they spat on me. But what they didn't know, the Lycan Chairman's soldiers were already on their way.

My name was Wisteria Oliviero. Jackie Kissinger and I had been married for 10 years. The world praised his undying love for Yvonne Willson, his late first love. I too was glad I married someone so loving. Then, on Yvonne's deathday, I saw a photo of him kissing the supposedly dead Yvonne in Lutecia. I found out Yvonne swiped my dad's secondary card until its limit. When I demanded answers, he called me crazy and wanted to send me to an asylum. Then, I also found out the car crash that took my womb away was his and Yvonne's conspiracy. I wasted 10 years on the wrong guy, and I did not want to take it anymore. I used my family's power to destroy Jackie's company, collected evidence of their crimes, and sent them both into prison. They were thrown behind bars. I was freed from their web of lies, and the light awaited me.