Beyblade X Left Spin Novels & Stories

To help my "destitute" husband pay off his debts, I scavenged for scraps for five years. My son and I survived on expired canned food. That changed on my son's birthday. I saw him in a bespoke suit, spending millions to celebrate the birthday of the woman he truly loved. That was the moment I realized he was actually the most powerful billionaire on Wall Street. To please the love of his life, he let our child be injected with unknown drugs, leaving him on the brink of death. He even forced me to drain my own blood to save her son. Later, I became someone he could no longer reach. I linked arms with a man far more powerful than him and walked away. That once arrogant man ended up kneeling in the Arctic snow, clutching a photo I had burned, weeping like a stray dog.

Everyone in the upper circles knew I was the Xander family’s delicate little porcelain doll, someone who could not tolerate even the slightest grievance. I always had to sit in the seat of honor at gatherings. My drinks had to be served ice-cold. If anything annoyed me even a little, I would have my childhood friends clear the room. That was, until the fallen heiress returned. She did not rely on men. She had built her own business from scratch and was ruthless in the boardroom, radiating a wild, untamed beauty. Slowly, my dear brothers began to find me insufferable and too high-maintenance. When they pulled their investments from my gallery to back her projects instead, only my fiancé stayed by my side, comforting me. “Forget them. They’re all opportunists. I’ll always keep you safe in the palm of my hand!” That was until one day, I saw that same proud fiancé bent low like a servant, humbly wiping wine stains off the heiress's shoes in a corner of a club. His eyes were filled with a devotion I had never seen before. “All I need is one look from you, and I’ll drop the whole wedding.” I took off my engagement ring and tossed it into the drain. Then, I went home and told my grandfather, “Grandpa, I’m going to Africa for that development aid project. “I’ll agree to the arranged marriage. Just don’t make me see them again."

My mother and sister never liked me. The only son they ever truly cared about was my older brother, Lucian Vieri. Before she married me, Serafina Valcieri, the only daughter of one of the most feared syndicates in the country, was always the one who stepped in when I was cornered, mocked, or blamed for things that were never mine to carry. She never said much. She just made people back off. Then she married me. Then, not long ago, Lucian shoved me off a ski slope. I said he meant to kill me. My mother called it an accident. My sister said he had only been trying to save me. Only Serafina believed me. When I woke up in the hospital, I heard voices outside the door. “Who told you to do it like that?” Serafina said, her voice low and cold. My mother answered in a panic. “Lucian’s leukemia can’t wait. If Cassian learns the baby isn’t his, everything falls apart.” Then Serafina said the words I still can’t forget. “I chose him, and I married him for my own reasons. But Lucian still needs this child. If anything had happened to Cassian, none of you would have walked away from it.” I stood there in silence, listening to every word. The child my wife was carrying was never mine. It had been conceived through IVF to save my brother. And the marriage I had trusted from the beginning had never belonged to me alone. I had spent my whole life coming second to Lucian. I just never thought Serafina would be the one to prove it. If no one truly wanted me, then I would leave.

Over the years, Julia had grown accustomed to being her husband Andrew’s substitute wife. Every time he looked at her face, she knew he was really seeing his late first love. But after so many years, her stepsister Charlotte returned to the country and shamelessly tried to take her place. Charlotte cozied up to her husband and won over her son. When her son said he’d rather live with Auntie Charlotte than with his own mother, Julia felt utterly heartbroken. She resolved to get a divorce and never be a substitute wife.

My world fell apart on the day of my Luna ceremony. My mother and older brother approached me with bad news. My younger sister, Lilith, was cursed and did not have long to live. They wanted me to fulfill her only wish before death. She wanted to replace me as my Alpha, Fenris', mate. That included giving her my Luna ceremony. I was shocked and angry. I looked at Fenris as I expected him to reject this ridiculous suggestion as well. However, he nodded. "Don't worry, Selene," he said to me. He sounded so sincere. "This is only temporary. Once we've fulfilled Lilith's last wish, you'll be my mate forever." I was adamant about rejecting that suggestion. It was too crazy! However, my 'beloved' brother, Damian, forcefully dragged me off into the Dark Forest, where it was rampant with wild beasts. That was also when I realized I was pregnant with Fenris' child. My pregnancy weakened my strength tremendously, and I was mauled by the wild beasts while still alive. By the time everyone remembered me, all that was left of me was a rotting corpse lying in the forest.

Marcus's sixth patent had just gone through, and he said he was going to give me the grand proposal, the one that would close out four years of dating. The campus quad was covered in candles and roses. Marcus stood in the middle of it holding a bouquet, his eyes shining. He was halfway through his speech when his graduate student Claire threw herself into his arms. The plain silver band on her finger, identical to his, caught the candlelight. The crowd went still, then started murmuring. Every face turned toward them with the kind of look people get when they think they've stumbled onto a secret. And I was standing in the middle of that crowd. His girlfriend of four years, the one he had kept hidden the entire time, watching them hold each other. Watching him swallow the rest of his speech. Watching him hand my flowers to her. My phone buzzed in my hand. A message from S. "Sweetheart. Have you thought about it? We know we were wrong."

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But for her, it's been simmering for years. He destroyed her self worth, leaving her a shell of her former self. Now, she's back, disguised in a quiet strength he'll never see coming. Prepare for a game of cat and mouse where the prey just might be the predator. The rules have changed, and this time, she's writing them.

The casino my husband and I ran was about to go through a chaotic police raid. Anyone who got caught would likely end up arrested. We had the time to leave. But we couldn’t all leave. One of us had to stay behind, or the cops would keep chasing us. Elias, my charming husband, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Mireille and left me to handle the cops, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll send a lawyer to you.” Lucky for me, I managed to walk away without any consequences. And then, I saw, Elias, the man who was supposed to have my back, not only did escape without me, he also whisked Mireille away to some fancy resort, like they were on vacation. He looked so carefree, so unbothered. Not a hint of concern for the wife he’d just abandoned. “Think Seraphina’s gonna be mad that we left without her?” Mireille asked, all innocence. Elias laughed, that cold, detached laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Please. As if she’d ever get mad at me. She can handle herself.” He didn’t care. But you know what? Neither do I. Not anymore.

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.