Battle Of Geonosis Attack Of The Clones

My husband's ex, Sarah Miller, once ditched him to chase a rich guy. When she came back, she was crippled, dragging along two scrawny kids. The day I found out I was pregnant, Jake Carter demanded a divorce. "Sarah is too weak to manage alone, and her kids need someone. I've got to step up," he said. I nodded calmly and went straight to the hospital for an abortion. In my past life, I fought to keep the baby and refused the divorce, even exposing Sarah's dirty secrets to the world. Her reputation was ruined. She became a pariah, and eventually, she took her kids and ended it all. In her blood-soaked suicide note, she blamed me for driving her to despair. Thus, Jake hated me to the core. He hired thugs to assault me, posted the video online, and spread lies that I was a cheater. In the end, he threw me and our child into the sea. As I died, he snarled, "This is what you get for killing Sarah!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day he demanded a divorce. This time, I agreed on the spot. Jake was thrilled, dreaming of winning Sarah back. What he didn't know was that, in my past life, I uncovered why Sarah was dumped. Her private life was a mess, and she caught AIDS.

Everyone in Sparrowville said that Margaret Chapman was the happiest woman in town. Gavin Hartley showered her with gifts—a sapphire ring, an asteroid after her name—treating her like she was the center of his universe. Margaret had always believed it, too. Until the day she accidentally discovered the woman he had been hiding in his villa. For ten years, he had kept her there—his childhood sweetheart. After she lost herself to schizophrenia, she had said, "Margaret is me." And so, for nearly seven years, Gavin had courted Margaret and cherished her, playing out a love story that had never truly been hers. Margaret's heart crumbled to ash after she found out the truth. She left without looking back, moving to a country thousands of miles away. But she never imagined that Gavin would lose himself to rage, his eyes burning red as he nearly tore Sparrowville apart. "Where the hell is Margaret?!"

The day I get engaged, my brother brings home a woman who's my age. He says she's his actual sister and accuses me of stealing her life for the past 20 years. Even my fiancé says she's his rightful wife. I'm kicked out of home. Meanwhile, my brother and fiancé take the true heiress traveling. They even give her the villa they had prepared for me. Half a month later, they suddenly remember it's my birthday. To their dismay, they find that they can't see me anymore—I've joined a secret ten-year project organized by the nation. They're supposed to be happy, but they now regret everything.

I, Luna Silverblood have spent seven years loving a wolf who never valued me. When my public humiliation at what should have been my mating ceremony reaches its peak, an unexpected savior appears—dominant alpha Dominic Blackthorn, who claims her as his mate. But is this mysterious alpha merely rescuing a desperate she-wolf, or does he share a deeper connection with me than either realizes?

I've been mated to Alpha Damon for five years. I helped him build a business empire, but he kept delaying our marking ceremony 99 times. Right before the ceremony was supposed to happen, he told me the pack’s resources were tight. He demanded I stop the expansion of the Alpha’s manor and scrapped the nursery I’d designed for our future pups. Then he turned around and bought a thirty-million-dollar penthouse for Isabella, a new omega in our pack. When Isabella and I were in a car crash at the same time, he didn't even glance my way. He ran straight to her. He wrapped her in his Alpha scent, holding her tight. Their scents mingling was like a knife to my heart. In the pack council hall, in front of all the Elders, I looked at him with ice in my eyes. "I, Elena, reject you, Damon, as my mate." Through the gut-wrenching pain of the mate bond snapping, I sent a message to the Alpha of another pack. "I rejected him. I'll be at your Crescent Moon Pack tomorrow."

I was just a student who couldn't afford tuition. For five years, I was also the secret lover of Mafia Don Dante Costello. Publicly, I was his personal art restorer. In private, he spent his nights making me his, holding me close and kissing me breathless. Then his family arranged his engagement. To Isabella Rossi. A princess from a rival family. At their engagement party, Isabella stabbed the back of my hand with a shard of broken glass. He made me apologize. To her. For making a scene. Fighting back tears, I bowed my head to Isabella. When Isabella lost a bet and had to play Russian Roulette—one bullet, six chambers—he made me take her place. My hand shook as I raised the gun to my head. "You saved my life once," I told him. "Now you can have it back." The moment I vanished from his world, the ruthless Mafia Don who had everything under control...completely lost his mind.

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

In my past life, I supported the bankrupt Clark brothers. However, after I became pregnant, they allowed a poor student, Kimberly Scott, to push me down the stairs, where I bled profusely and died while carrying my child. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day I had brought them into my house. This time, I kicked them out without hesitation. To my surprise, Kimberly had teamed up with my grandmother to pretend to be the real heiress, painting me as the fake heiress who had taken over the family. The butler, Mr. Williams, who had watched me grow up, came forward and accused me of causing my parents’ death. Under the public backlash they had orchestrated, I remained calm and presented my evidence. Not only did I expose Kimberly’s fake identity as the heiress, but I also revealed the true faces of my grandmother and Mr. Williams. I avenged my parents and gave the wrongdoers the punishment they deserved.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."