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Dante and I have been married for three years. But he never knew my real name. We’d had countless arguments over the past three years—over the petty details of everyday life. I can no longer tolerate such a ridiculous life like a puppet today. Calliope, that’s what he called me, but it was actually my twin sister’s name. My husband may never know that the woman who married him three years ago was a substitute bride. Three years ago, my sister abandoned us and left before the wedding with her lover. To prevent the anger of the Laurent’s, my family had no choice but to let me marry Dante instead of my sister. My phone rang again and again, I finally picked it up. "Throwing another tantrum, are you? Calliope, tell me what you are capable to do if you can not even be merely a housewife?" I knew Calliope could always get her way through her sweet voice and innocent smiles. She can be an obedient and perfect wife—something I could never manage. "Dante. I’m not joking.” I didn't know if my voice sounded a little sad. "You can’t be serious—" For the first time, I heard a tremor in the man's words. He doesn't love me. He likes to be in control. When he realized that his puppet was losing control, he began to panic. It's time for this farce to end. I clenched my phone and spoke to the man on the other end in the calmest voice of my life. "Dante, let's get a divorce." But what shocked me more than hearing Dante's answer was the person who suddenly appeared in front of me. Calliope, my twin sister, who disappeared for the whole three years. “Are you crazy? Why on earth would you want a divorce? That's Dante Laurent, a billionaire heir, every woman's dream！” “Calliope? Our parents and I all thought you would never show up again. I entered this wrong marriage because of your escape. Dante... he’s not that a husband out of your dreams.” “Seraphina, put away your ridiculous niceness and compassion. I have returned this time to take back what is MINE and my place.” She lifted my hand with a sneer and removed the wedding ring from my finger.

I've been married to Salvatore Falcone for seven years. He's a mafia Don who drills raw terror into everyone's minds. While I'm the Donna whom he has announced to the world, in truth, I'm just a mistress who serves as his human shield that can warm his bed on the side. Salvatore has betrayed me countless times over the past seven years. The first betrayal occurred when he took my ring off on our first wedding anniversary and gave it to one of the escorts in the clubhouse on a whim. The second betrayal occurred when I collapsed in the kitchen out of exhaustion. Instead of saving me, Salvatore blamed me for not preparing the hangover tonic for him in time, so he had someone dump iced water onto me to wake me up. The third betrayal occurred when I suffered from massive bleeding when I was five months pregnant. When I begged Salvatore to go to the hospital with me, he told me that he was keeping Valentina Caruso, his childhood sweetheart, company while her cat was getting fixed. For 2500 days, I swallowed all of my grievances, agony, and tears. Last night, at the banquet of our seventh wedding anniversary, Salvatore had taken Valentina's hand and sat her down on the Donna's throne that was meant to be mine. At that moment, everyone looked forward to seeing me humiliate myself. This was the 101st time he betrayed me. After the banquet was over, Salvatore didn't even bother looking me in the eye. He just said icily, "Don't forget that you're only a mistress to me despite our marriage." At the crack of dawn, Salvatore wakes up with a hangover. He tosses his soiled shirt at me out of habit. "Wash this shirt immediately. I'm going to wear it tonight." As I gaze at him, I caress my belly, which is slightly swollen. "Sorry, Mr. Falcone. This is no longer my duty." Salvatore most likely has forgotten that we've signed a contract when we first got married. The clause states that we will get divorced seven years later. Today is the third day before our contract comes to an end. I toss the marriage certificate and the pregnancy report into the shredder on the spot. In three days, my unborn baby and I will disappear from Salvatore's world permanently. This time, I will never look back.

From my earliest memories, my entire family is cold and distant toward me. When my parents look at my younger sister, Claire Lloyd, their eyes fill with warmth and joy. Yet, when they turn to me, only disgust remains. Claire's life is filled with applause and excessive love, while mine is filled with disdain and suffering. When the explosion erupts at the street corner, I save the stranger beside me. Later, I learn he is Byron Whitmore, a mafia family's Don. He begins pursuing me after I rescue him. Later, I quit my job and move to a new place, but he finds me and proposes in 100 different ways. "Why me?" I ask countless times. "Because it's you," he always answers. The wedding causes a sensation throughout the city. I truly seem to have transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. That is, until I'm five months pregnant, when Claire needs a transfusion of rare Rh-negative blood after a car accident. The blood bank has a shortage. Because of that, my parents knock me unconscious and send me to the hospital. In my daze, the blood extraction machine hums continuously. As two thousand milliliters of blood leave my body, I see Byron. Tears well up in my eyes. I begin thinking he's here to save me. Instead, I hear him say, "We can't take any more. Sharon and the baby will die." "But Claire has lost too much blood. She'll die, too..." My mother pleads. "No one wants Claire safe more than I do." Byron's voice is thick with pain. "She's my first love. I've never forgotten her. I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's. "But I can't trade her life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way." So, that's his reason for marrying me. The blood extraction machine continues running, but my heart has already stopped beating. The affection I see in his eyes has never been for me. He's always looking through me at someone else. Everyone in the world loves Claire, and Byron is not the exception that I foolishly believe him to be. That grand wedding is nothing but an ugly duckling's self-deceiving fantasy.

I was a stray pup. At five years old, several elite warriors captured me and threw me in front of the Alpha heir, Lucas. I heard his wolf talking to Lucas in his mind. "Lucas, this damn little thing is a hybrid of a werewolf and an evil witch. The prophecy shows she will be extremely vicious in the future, even killing your Mate. For the Moon Goddess, you must kill her now to protect your future Luna." Lucas agreed carelessly. But when he saw me, he froze. "Seriously? Dude, you’re saying this tiny thing is a homicidal maniac? How vicious can she be? Cursing the future Luna with a lollipop?" I tugged the corner of Lucas's expensive shirt, and looked up. "Big brother, I'm so hungry." He looked at my body, starved to just bones, and hesitated. "Anyway, the mate hasn't appeared yet. Might as well let her eat first. Even when we execute rogues, we usually let them eat their fill before killing them." His wolf replied, "Makes sense... but after she's full, you can't hesitate again!" From that day on, he raised me, this mixed-race brat, like a little sister in his pack. For over a decade, he and his wolf plotted countless times how to kill me, but always found various excuses to postpone the execution. Until I was 16, my brother was injured and lying in the healing center, but his wolf, having lost its will to live after being rejected by its mate, was unable to heal itself. The healer said my brother was going to die. I didn't try to stop him; I just found that playboy from school who had harassed me. I forced him to send my brother a mind link. "Alpha, I just wanted to say, Emma's body is really... really banging. I'll take good... care of her for you." I even chimed in through the mind link with a flirtatious whine. "Jason, don't be like that, Lucas will get mad... stop it." Less than half a second later. An earth-shattering roar came. "Son of a bitch! Jason, get the fuck away from her!" "If you touch a single finger on her, I'll tear you to shreds!"

The housekeeper’s daughter, Selena Greene, deliberately chose to get married on the same day, at the same hotel as me. When our cars passed each other on the way to our weddings, she rolled down her window and asked to switch my bridal bouquet with hers. My bouquet, however, wasn’t just any bouquet. It was hand-carved from priceless jadeite by my grandfather himself—a one-of-a-kind heirloom and his blessing for my wedding day. “Trish,” she pleaded softly, “please. I’ve sacrificed so much for this wedding. I just want it to be perfect. I’ll give it back to you as soon as we get out of the cars.” My heart softened. Against my better judgment, I handed her my bouquet and took her cheap, plastic flowers instead. However, when we stepped out of our cars, she refused to return it. Worse still, during her ceremony, she tossed my jade bouquet onto the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. That bouquet had been my grandfather’s way of being present at my wedding. It was all I had left of him. Yet, in front of everyone, Selena put on an innocent act and accused me, “Who takes back a bouquet after a switch? A glass bouquet like this is all over online shopping platforms for ten bucks. I’ll just pay you back. Trish, you’ve made my life hard enough on normal days. Do you have to humiliate me on the most important day of my life, too?” Furious, I confronted her, but she ducked behind my fiancé and my brother, wiping at her eyes like the victim. My fiancé immediately went to comfort her, leaving me standing alone at the ceremony, humiliated and ridiculed by everyone. My brother, too, called me cruel and heartless. He cut me off financially and threw me out of the family home. Selena’s husband, having quickly risen to success with the help of powerful backers, unleashed his relentless revenge on the now penniless and alone me. In the dead of winter, hired thugs found me and brutalized me to death. And Selena? She became their princess, adored by all three of them. I sank into darkness, full of rage and regret. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day of the wedding.

When I was born, I was already a certified liar. That's a fact that everyone seems to agree with. The truth is, my mom, who's a scientist, has implanted advanced chips into me and my fraternal twin brother, Ryan Hartwell, when we were still babies. By right, as long as we lie or make mistakes, our mom will receive the devil signal from the chips. Then, she'll administer electrical shocks as a form of punishment. Ryan's chip often transmits the smiley signal. Even if he destroys our mom's research equipment and pins the blame on me, his chip still has the smiley branded on it. Meanwhile, when I reach home ten minutes later than usual because I had to help out a classmate, my chip transmits the scary devil signal. The next thing I know, I've already crippled to the floor from the intense pain caused by the electrical shock. At first, I'll still explain to Mom what happened. But she often exclaims, "Don't think you can pull off clever little tricks just like that gambling father of yours! The chip is ten thousands times smarter than you! The punishments will only be branded into your bones if the pain is searing enough! What I'm doing is saving your life!" After suffering from the pain countless times, I get brainwashed into thinking that I really am a liar and a troublemaker by nature. On the night of Christmas Eve, Mom comes to the attic to tell Ryan to join the family at the table for the Christmas dinner. That's when my asthma suddenly acts up, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. "I… I can't breathe… Save me, Mom…" But Mom just coldly gazes at the devil signal that she has just received on her phone. Then, she dials the shock value to the maximum. "You don't have asthma at all! Ugh, you're kicking up another fuss just to attract attention! Seriously, you never change your ways!" After that, she takes Ryan's hand and leads him out of the attic. Soon, she slams the door heavily behind her. As I suffer from asphyxiation while on my deathbed, I can't help but think that Mom is right. After all, my chip has just transmitted the devil signal. Maybe the asthma attack really is just a figment of my imagination. I've always been a bad girl who loves lying to others, after all. When Mom finds out that this is the last time I've ever lied to her, she must be really happy, right?

A Category 5 hurricane will be tearing through the nation tomorrow. The state I live in has officially gone into lockdown in all five sectors involving work, production, business, classes, and transport. But Isabel Stafford, the actual heiress of the Staffords who had just rejoined the family, left an order in the company's group chat. "Tomorrow, everyone in this company must clock in for work! Those who miss out on work will have three times their salaries deducted!" I thought it was rather inappropriate for the order to take effect. So, I messaged her privately that everyone's lives were at stake here, not to mention it was a reportable offense for one to go against the national order of the lockdown. But not only did Isabel ignore me, she also continued texting in the group chat. "We're paying you just to work! Everyone needs to be present in order to protect the important documents and maintain the expensive equipment! You should know that the more you work at times like this, the more the company can see your actual value!" The colleagues dared not refute Isabel at all. But I was really worried that an accident might happen, so I spent the night calling everyone to get them not to go to work. When Isabel found out about my efforts, she went to the company out of anger the next day. The typhoon smashed the company's glass walls that day, resulting in Isabel getting thrown out of the 16th floor. By the time her body was found, she was already dead. My parents and my fiance, Shane Cross, didn't say anything about Isabel's death. But they had me hung from a helicopter on my and Shane's wedding day. "If it wasn't for you stopping the employees from going to the company that day, Isabel wouldn't have died!" "There were so many of them! If they were willing to grab her, she'd be fine!" "You're just jealous that we found our actual daughter! That's why you killed her on purpose!" I begged Shane to save me, but he just gazed at me coldly. "I told you countless times that I'd still marry you even though Isabel is back! But why did you refuse to let her go? "I'll make you feel the pain Isabel has felt when she got thrown into the sky by the Category 5 hurricane!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Isabel is goading the employees to show up at the company for work. This time, it's my turn to send everyone to hell.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”