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I am the long-lost true heir of the Kensington family. In just the second month after reconciling with the Kensington family, I solved a technical problem that the Kensington Corp's Military Research Institute had failed to crack for five whole years. Yet, my adoptive brother, Sean Kensington, the fake heir, exchanged my patent bonus worth millions for a 20-percent-off coupon for a cup of latte. I went to my older sister, Sonya, the CEO, but she simply waved her hand dismissively, completely unconcerned. "Enough, Wesley. Sean just did it for your own good. If you're holding onto that much money, what if some organization set their eyes on you? This way, your safety is protected. "Besides, you've only come to the city not long ago. I doubt you've ever had something like a latte before. Take it as a chance to experience it. I'll even give you another ten dollars. You can buy yourself another cup." I looked at the condescension in her eyes, planning to send the recording to our parents. Yet, I saw on their social media that they had just bought a seaside mansion and a luxury car as a celebration gift for Sean's achievements. Then, I glanced at the coupon they had just sent me. [You did help Sean after all. Your father and I bought you a cake as a reward. Go pick it up yourself.] I checked the price. After discount, it was a mere 13 bucks. They had to be kidding me. I directly dialed the number of Kensington Corp's rival company, Jet Group. "I think the exclusive patent for this new missile should be yours. From now on, all my research results will only be shared with Jet Group."

It was the apocalypse. A zombie apocalypse. We should've been running for our lives, but my girlfriend, Yvonne Brown, refused to. She wanted to buy as much time as she could for her incompetent childhood friend, Yves Claude, to hop into the last helicopter that would take survivors away. But the retreat was our group's only way to survive in this apocalypse. Yves was not showing up anytime soon. I had no choice but to knock her out and drag her into the chopper. And Yves, the one she could never seem to forget, died in the swarm of undead. I, however, survived thanks to what I did. Yvonne and I lived happily in a safe zone. And then that fateful day came. I was going to take over the territory and lead humanity on an attack against the zombies. The night before that decisive strike, Yvonne spiked my water with anesthetics. When I was caught helpless, she tossed me into the horde of zombies. The swarm of undead tore my flesh open, and the pain killed me. Yvonne? She stood on the wall coldly, a sneer decorating her lips. "Yves could've lived, but you took that chance away from him! You selfish monster, you killed Yves! I will make you suffer what he suffered! You'll pay for it with your life!" Death took me, but it tossed me all the way back to the day of the retreat. The day Yvonne adamantly insisted on waiting for Yves. Well, if she was so happy to live through a world like this with her friend, who am I to say no? I would grant her that wish, even if she would end up as zombie food.

At the age of twenty, I mated to my father's best friend, Lucian, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack despite our age difference. He was eight years older than me and was known in the pack as the cold-hearted King of Hell. He was ruthless in the pack and never got close to any she-wolves, but he was extremely gentle and sweet towards me. He would buy me the priceless Fangborn necklace the next day just because I casually said, "It looks good." When I curled up in bed in pain during my period, he would put aside Alpha councils and personally make pain suppressant for me, coaxing me to drink spoonful by spoonful. He would hug me tight when we mated, calling me "sweetheart" in a low and hoarse voice. He claimed I was so alluring that my body had him utterly addicted as if every curve were a narcotic he couldn't quit. He even named his most valuable antique Stormwolf Armour "For Elise". For years, I had believed it was to commemorate the melody I had played at the piano on our first encounter—the very tune that had sparked our love story. Until that day, I found an old photo album in his study. The album was full of photos of the same she-wolf. You wouldn’t believe this, but we looked like twin sisters! The she-wolf in one of the photos was playing the piano and smiling brightly. The back of the photo said, "For Elise." ... After discovering the truth, I immediately drafted a severance agreement to sever our mate bond. Since Lucian only cared about Elise, no way in hell I would be your Luna Alice anymore.

In the new world order, humans are nothing but property. Omegas, wolves, and rogues rank higher, leaving humans powerless, destined for collar and chain. She grows up knowing this, but hopes for mercy when her turn comes—a gentle Alpha, a kind Luna, someone who will put her to work but leave her body her own. On the night of her auction, hope dies. She is purchased by Caelan Black, Alpha of the feared Ironfang Pack. Cold, violent, and legendary for his cruelty, Caelan doesn’t buy humans for labor—he buys them for heirs. From the first night, he makes it clear: she is not his mate. She is not his Luna. She is his breeding pet—a body to keep in his bed until she bears his pups. Collared and caged, she fights him, refusing to bend. But Caelan is patient in his cruelty, teaching her submission with hands, mouth, and punishing nights that leave her trembling yet craving more. Soon, her body betrays her. Desire coils through her veins, and in his eyes, she begins to see something more dangerous than lust—possession. When rival Alphas discover Caelan has bonded with a human, they see weakness. They come for her, threatening to steal his breeder and expose him as unfit to rule. Blood is spilled, war ignites, and in the chaos, she realizes the truth: she is no longer just his pet. She is his obsession, his weakness, his ruin. And when the Goddess herself tests their bond, she must decide—remain the breeder he bought her as… or claim her place as the Luna he swore she could never be.

My family owned Belgard Estate, a historic wine property that had recently gone viral after serving as the backdrop for a series of advertisements and product livestreams. On one occasion, my butler and I could not even enter the grounds. Influencers crowded the entrance, phones raised, security overwhelmed. My fiancée apologized. "The mayor wanted to borrow the estate, dear. I couldn't tell him no," she said. "Just bear with it for a while, okay? Once the trend dies down, I'll have them all cleared out. Trust me." I trusted her. I never raised the issue again. Some time later, my grandfather prepared to celebrate his 90th birthday. I returned to the estate to retrieve our finest vintage for the occasion, only to find myself nearly crushed by a shrieking crowd packed outside the gates. I slipped away and made my way to the back entrance after someone in the crowd called me a "free-riding bum." Bewildered, I was ready to present proof of ownership when a woman shouted over the noise, "Didn't you hear? Miss LePenn has already announced that Belgard Estate has been given to Jacques Martin! I don't care how big a fan you are of him. You still have to buy a ticket to see him like the rest of us!" I stood there, stunned. Jacques? The first man I had ever allowed to use this estate for a product livestream? It belonged to him now? And since when had Sylvia become the mistress of this place? Since when did she even have a boyfriend? Enough was enough. It was time to bring these people's business with Belgard Estate to an end.

Since she was sixteen, Sydney Rae Salvador has been in love with Clyren Zeye Matteo. But that's not how he ever saw her. He was constantly present but never hers, he was her older brother's best friend. Sydney quietly loving him, while he loved other girls. Then everything changed one night. She became pregnant even though she had no idea what it meant to him. She kept her pregnancy a secret. She wished to avoid making him feel obliged to stay. She also became irrationally angry with him. However, she secretly missed him when he wasn't present. She was simply seeking things, it turned out, and she wanted Clyren close to her most of the time. Months later, her brother discovered that she was pregnant. He got angry with Clyren and confronted him but Clyren already knew. He had been waiting for Sydney to tell him herself. After that, Clyren took care of her. He was always there. Then one day, when she was six months pregnant, she asked him to buy her a mangosteen that she was craving. He went out, but he never came back. She gave birth alone. For years, there was no sign of him. Four years later, her twins were already toddlers. At the airport, her son had an accident. At that exact moment, she ran into Clyren again. He was checking on her son’s head, which was covered in blood. She begged him to help their son, so they rushed to the hospital. What happened to Clyren? Do second chances really exist?

My name is Cassie Aster. I was born Cassandra Burton. I wasn’t born rich, or with a powerful name. But I was born smart—some would say lucky. At fifteen, I entered a contest for a scholarship to the most prestigious school in the country: Aster Academy of Excellence. Out of more than four hundred applicants, only five were chosen. By sixteen, I was walking through its gates. That’s where I met him—Jacob Aster. The son of the school’s owners. The heir to one of the wealthiest families on Earth. I fell for him immediately, but I rejected him—over a hundred times. My studies, my scholarship, my future came first. To him, that meant only one thing: he had to buy my love. Over a decade later, we’re married. And to the world, I’m the luckiest girl alive—proof that fairy tales come true. From rags to riches, just like that. But I never thought of myself as having only rags. And I didn’t marry him for his riches. Still, every time he strays, he buys my forgiveness—for $100,000. For him, I gave up my career. For him, I live like a caged bird, taken out only for display. For him, I die a little every day. Every time my card doesn’t decline, my heart does. Most of his women at least have the shame to stay out of my sight. But not her. Coral Monroue is shameless. He favors her now. And I can’t help but wonder— will she be the one who finally pushes me to leave?

When I head over to my daughter, Hannah Westfield's place for dinner during Christmas Eve, I specifically wear a wool coat for the occasion. Unexpectedly, when Hannah sees me, she pushes me out of the front door instantly. "Mom, why must you buy the same coat as my mother-in-law did? Don't you know that she hates it when others imitate her? Hurry up and take off the coat before she sees you!" Meanwhile, my son-in-law, Thomas Clifford, digs out an old coat and puts it on me. "Mom, there are many relatives visiting our house today. Please spare my mom her pride and don't steal her thunder, okay?" Seeing how sincere Thomas looks, I decide to yield. But as soon as I take my seat, Giselle Johnson chortles in amusement as she stares at the old coat I'm wearing. "Oh Fiona, if you like my clothes, you could've just said so, and I'd give it to you. It's bad if you just steal my old coat from me and wear it, you know? Besides, don't you know that those who imitate always do a bad job at it?" Furious, I'm about to up and leave when Giselle grabs the coat and blocks my way. "I placed two money envelopes in the coat pockets a few days ago. There are 20 thousand dollars in there. Why are they gone after you've worn it? "I don't mind you wearing my coat behind my back, but you must return the money to me right now!"

Alya has been living in her cocoon since forever that stepping into NYC calls for an adventure. Or rather, to curb her wandering mind of what it feels like to have something you've been dreaming of- married to someone who has all the criteria you've seen only in movies. She leaves her comfort zone and dives into a life that has been scripted since day one. It can be two things, either a liberating experience to be someone who doesn't have to think much and just live the way it's been laid out, or to feel suffocated by how much scripted and planned everything is. Yummy DILF has been living his life in pretence. But if money can buy imagination who are we to judge him on that? He didn't exactly ask for our money to live that way, so leave the judgement by the door and come in for a read if you feel like you're open to this absurd pretence. *** "I need you to come for me." He orders in a stern tone after I've let out all sorts of noise while he tongue-fucked me. It finally dawns on me that I'm being a desperate bitch I never wanted to be when I first accepted this job. What have I become? "Come for me, B." His finger is pressing me into following his order to which I reluctantly shake on his mouth. As quiet as it began, it ends in the same way as he helps me with my thong and pulls down my dress to its original state. Stepping in my view he smiles at me smugly, "See, being my wife isn't always so difficult."

My best friend has always been stingy to the bone, so the moment she volunteers to buy a bottle of water for the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family, who collapsed from heatstroke, I know she has been reborn, too. In my previous life, she and I sat for the college entrance exam together, and when the results were announced, we both got the same high score. Both of us had our eyes on Kingsley University, yet the admissions quota was limited, and neither of us wanted to jeopardize our friendship, so we kept delaying our application. In the blink of an eye, it was the last day to file our applications, and as I was about to start on mine, I stumbled upon the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family, who happened to be suffering from heatstroke. I not only bought him a bottle of water, but I also held an umbrella over him until he came to. By the time he regained consciousness, I had already missed the submission deadline. My best friend submitted hers just in time and got accepted into Kingsley University. Because I never submitted mine, the opportunity to attend university slipped past me. However, the heir apparent was touched by my act of kindness, and he asked for my hand in marriage. In the end, I married him and became a socialite, whereas my best friend, despite getting into Kingsley University, was overwhelmed by the demanding curriculum. Watching me live with more money than I could spend, she was fueled with jealousy until one day, she snapped and stabbed me. The moment I open my eyes again, my best friend and I are back on the day the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family passes out from the heat.