Award-winning Historical Novels

I’m getting married, but my CEO fiancé, whom I had been engaged to for ten years, had no idea. Thanks to his new personal maid, the man has no time to spare for me. The two of them always shadowed one another, and they might as well be sleeping in the same bed. My fiancé even bought a yacht and brought her to the Arctic to see the aurora when she was in a bad mood, completely forgetting that we were supposed to be picking out wedding gowns that day. I spent the entire day waiting in that bridal shop, waiting for a man who would never show up. So I called my dad, “I’m marrying someone else.”

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

To cheer up his pretty assistant, my boyfriend brought her to attend a party. I had to bail him out after he was arrested by the police. The charge? Public indecency after consuming illegal substances. When I arrived at the police station to pick him up, he was still trying to comfort his assistant, paying no heed to the possibility that I might have seen the lipstick marks on his neck. After seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, my boyfriend assumed I was upset and explained impatiently, “Winnie was in a terrible mood that day, and I was just there to keep her company. We didn’t take part in any public indecency! It was the other guests who were messing about!” What a terrible excuse. If it was any other day, I wouldn’t be this calm. This time was different. I will no longer press him for answers like a mad woman. As I walked past the police station entrance, an officer looked at my boyfriend and his assistant, who were still all over each other. With eyes full of sympathy, he asked me, “Your partner?” I glanced at my boyfriend, whose focus was entirely fixated on Winnie, and shook my head. “No, just an acquaintance.” At that moment, Winnie was leaning against him, seeking his comfort. I pulled out my phone and texted my dad silently. “I agree to marry President Lee. I’ll leave the wedding preparation to you guys.” “I’ll be back in five days.”

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

The night before my mating ceremony with Alpha Garrett Northwood of the Silverpine Pack, he held a grand Luna ceremony for my silver-poisoned stepsister behind my back. He held Serena close under the starlit sky, his smile tender in a way I'd never seen: "You're the only one I truly love, Serena." "Even though Maya and I are already registered as mates with the Alpha Council, she'll never have my heart. You're the only one I recognize as my Luna." The pack members cheered and blessed them as they completed the ceremony with joy. I watched it all without crying or screaming. Instead, I quietly scheduled an abortion appointment. I've loved Garrett Northwood for twelve years, ever since I first shifted as an adult. But his heart still only had room for my stepsister Serena. If that's how it was, I'd let go. Later, I joined the secluded Herbal Research Center of the Alpha Council. I left Garrett nothing but a mate bond dissolution agreement. But for some reason, Garrett—who had always treated me with disdain—suddenly went crazy begging me not to leave.

My fiancé proposes to my stepsister Thalia Yates in front of everyone at our engagement party. Furious, I pack my stuff and leave home. That's when Jude Pearson, heir to an international medical group, entered my life. He's a surgeon rumored to have zero interest in women. Yet he pursued me passionately for six months. Eventually, I accepted his proposal. For seven years after our wedding, he's been gentle and considerate, always putting my needs first. Then, I overhear his phone conversation with his mother, Helena Roberts. "Jude, it's been seven years, but you still have no kids. It's time for a divorce." "Since I couldn't marry Thalia, it doesn't matter who I married instead. I'll keep playing this role forever. As long as I'm around, she'll never be able to intrude upon Thalia's happiness." That's when the truth hits me—Jude has given up the family business to become a surgeon just to treat Thalia's heart condition. Our years of marriage are actually his way of protecting Thalia from afar. If that's the case, then I'll disappear from their world and let my absence be their happy ending.

I loved the pup my parents adopted so deeply that I cared for him as if he were my own son. At his slightest request, I willingly braved the storm to search the cliff edges for the plant he needed for tomorrow's assignment. Just as I stumbled toward them, battered and disheveled, I heard him secretly call my sister "mama, and call my mate "Dad”. It turned out my beloved Alpha mate had been cheating all along. He said it was too early for us to have pups, then turned around and started a family with my own sister. And my parents had known all along. They even wanted to force me to step down from my Luna position. The pup I cherished like my own heart cursed me with the most vicious words. Looking at them, I laughed through my tears. They didn't know I was already dead. The Moon Goddess had shown mercy—if I could receive one genuine declaration of love within these seven extra days, I could return to life. But they all wished for my death. I granted their wish. So why did they all regret it when the pack enforcers asked them to identify my body?

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

Before my wedding, I was three months pregnant. My fiancé, Felix, told me we should hide the pregnancy to protect my "reputation". Then, the very next day, I saw him announce that he was the father of his "savior" Isabella's child. It was only then that I discovered Isabella was his first love. After I found out, Felix tearfully begged me to give him time, promising a huge wedding for us right after Isabella's baby was born. But I had already planned to leave with my baby. I just never expected that Felix's mother would be the one to ruin everything. I watched, helpless, as they treated my child like a bastard and forced me to have an abortion. I left, my heart turned to ash. Felix cut ties with his family over it, kneeling and begging me to come back. He promised me everything—wealth, status, company shares. But I no longer cared. I already had everything I truly wanted.