Bias And Prejudice

I, Xavier Locke, had married the same woman, Melanie Slater, seven times. But for the sake of her first love, Leonard Blueman, she divorced me seven times. The first time we got married, she told me, "I'll only love you for the rest of my life." But every time Leonard came back to the country, she sang a different tune. "Can't you be more sensible? How can you bear to stand by and let Lenny be called a homewrecker who snatches a married woman from her husband?" The first time we divorced, I cut my wrists to make her stay. I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, but she never showed up even once to see me. The third time we divorced, I humbled myself and applied to be her assistant at her company. I did that just so I could see her a little more. By the sixth divorce, I had learned to quietly pack my things and move out of the home we shared. My hysteria, my repeated backing down, and my tolerant compromises brought me nothing—just Melanie repeatedly divorcing and remarrying me. Time and time again, she pulled the same trick. With history repeating itself, I decided enough was enough. After hearing that Leonard was coming back again, this time, I handed her the divorce papers myself. As always, she set a date for our next remarriage. But what she didn't know… was that I was leaving for good this time.

My boyfriend's childhood friend got knocked up. To save her rep, Quentin Palmer married her. When I asked what that meant for me—and our baby—he stayed ice-calm. "Rainee's not like you. I'm all she's got. She wouldn't survive the gossip." Like I had anyone else? Like I wasn't carrying his baby too? Later, while people laughed behind my back about the "fatherless" kid I was having, Quentin just stood there—next to Rainee, silent. That's when it hit me—love comes with a pecking order. So I ended the pregnancy. Gave up my baby... all so he could play the hero for her.

I hadn't seen my mafia husband, Luca Moretti, and our daughter Dora in three whole months. Why? Because his mother, Fiona, said Dora should stay with her "for a while." And Luca? He was "too busy with business," as always. So when Luca finally called and said he was going to pick me up for a family reunion at the villa, I was overjoyed. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd finally get to hold my little girl again. I spent the whole damn day running around the city, buying her favorite dolls, snacks, a new pink dress, anything I thought would make her smile at me again. But when the car arrived, it wasn't what I imagined. Before I could even say Hi, Dora turned her head, took one look at me… and then wrapped her arms even tighter around Maria, the maid. She buried her face in Maria's neck like I wasn't even there. Like Maria was her mom. I tried to approach her, but Dora straight-up told me she didn't want to ride in the same car as me. And Maria, wearing that fake, polite smile, kept trying to gently talk me into giving Dora "a little more time." I looked over at Luca, hoping he'd step in. Instead, he just looked annoyed, like he couldn't be bothered to lift a finger to help fix things between me and our daughter. Clearly, they didn't want me there. So what was the point of trying to join the ride? I stepped back from the SUV. Then Luca just turned to me and said, "Just wait here. I won't be long." What he'll never understand is… I'm done waiting for him.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, Harrison Drummond arrives with the woman he's been seeing behind my back. Tears fill Kate McCauley's eyes. Before I even have a chance to speak, she drops to her knees in front of me. "Ms. Kershaw, love isn't about who came first or last. Harrison and I care for each other with all our hearts. Please, let us be together." I turn to look at Harrison. With a heavy heart, he lifts Kate into his arms. The man who's always obsessed with cleanliness now wipes her tears away, not caring about the mess she leaves behind. Without raising his gaze, he says, "Kate has been by my side without any official name or title. I owe her that much. Don't worry, she's not after anything else. Having her here is no more than adding an extra pair of cutlery at the table." With that, he carries Kate into the bedroom and closes the door behind them. He seems to have completely forgotten that today is our wedding anniversary. Does he even remember the other woman who followed him without status seven years ago? I stare at the glowing "Happy Anniversary" sign resting on the table. In that instant, I realize there is no future left for us.

An accident leaves Preston Brown unable to have children. The fight over his family's fortune is heating up. Desperate for an heir, Preston arranges for me to sleep with his best friend, Rowan Kerr. I quietly dump the sleeping pills Preston gave me and pretend to be clueless. Then, I lose myself in a night of passion with Rowan. … The next morning, right in front of Preston, I smile sweetly and say, "Honey, you were incredible last night. I've never felt so good." His expression darkens. "Do you prefer the man I am by day, or the one who takes you at night?" I act bashful, tugging on his sleeve. "Both. But I especially love the one who knows how to satisfy me at night."

Days before Christmas, my girlfriend, Tessa Coleman, decides to take her assistant to the beach for the holiday. I don't argue or make a scene. I even help her pack her bags. But she sneers at me, mocking me for finally learning how to be sensible now that my legs are useless. As soon as she leaves, I reach out to her sworn enemy. In my last life, when I tried to stop her with my crippled legs, her assistant ended up brutally murdered at the beach. Tessa had acted like nothing had happened, but once I recovered, she hacked off my legs and killed me mercilessly. That was when I finally realized that she had hated me all along. This time around, I'll make sure she loses everything.

My fiancé's secretary had my wedding ring remade into a Hello Kitty trinket. When I confronted her, she twisted the truth with shameless arrogance, insisting that my wedding was hers to decide. I turned to my fiancé for support, only to have him dismiss me as petty and unworthy of being his bride. Together, they ridiculed and humiliated me, unaware that their families' power and future all depended on me. When my superior stepped in, their mockery collapsed in the face of truth. My fiancé fell to his knees, begging me to honor our engagement. But I cast him aside without hesitation, breaking off the marriage and leaving him with nothing.

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

In the two years after Bradley Vaughn's so-called "memory loss," we divorced seven times—all to keep his childhood crush Vivian Monroe happy. Number eight? Because Vivian got pregnant. "You can't have kids anyway. Once Vivian has the baby, we'll get back together. You can raise the kid." That was his usual ice-cold line as he slid the papers across the table. That night, he kicked me out—said Vivian got nauseous just seeing me. I moved into another house. Alone. In the rain. Even after I landed in the ER from a near assault, he didn't bother asking if I was okay. Then one day, I spotted him at a clinic with Vivian. He rubbed her belly and laughed, "So what if she finds out I faked the amnesia? She can't live without me. Toss her a bone, she'll come crawling." I looked away, steady. Then my phone buzzed. [How did your checkup go?]

I am an Omega. One day, Alpha Carl Blanchard found me in the Borderlands and took me in. After we formed the mate bond, he spoiled me senseless, never once caring who was watching. Now, everyone was whispering about the cold, ruthless Alpha who treats me—an Omega who used to be a Rogue—like I'm something sacred. They said it defied everything the Moon Goddess ever intended. I used to think he loved me down to the bone, that he just couldn't help showing the whole world how crazy he was about me. But then, I overhear him talking to his close friend. "I'm the Alpha of the Eastlands. I rule ten packs. If I don't paint Daisy as my weakness and my one obsession, how else am I supposed to keep Fiona off my enemies' radar? Turns out every wound I took for him was a damn joke. If that's how it is, I'm done playing Luna of the Eastlands. On my last day there, I made one call. "I'm in. I'll head to the Borderlands and spend the next ten years in closed research on medicinal herbs." When Carl found me gone, he came after me with bloodshot eyes and his pride in ruins. "Daisy… are you really leaving me?"