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I married my Don husband, Ethan Solas, because of a family arrangement. What he didn’t know was that I’d harbored a long crush on him. He, on the other hand, had never sparked any interest in me. Today marked our third anniversary. After our usual, mechanical lovemaking, Ethan rolled onto his back, leaving me staring at the ceiling. He always treated it like a duty, nothing more. Then a sudden, intrusive voice pierced my mind: “Did Vivian reach her climax? Did I do well? Is it too soon for a second round? Am I desperate? She smells so good…I just want to devour her.” I froze, eyes turned and locked on Ethan’s bare back. Had I imagined it? Or had my icy, distant husband just confessed his wild, obsessive desire for me?

Having dated for five years and been married for seven, she had never missed his birthday in the past 12 years. The 12 gifts from previous years were carefully placed in the storage closet. However, this year's birthday gift...

The day Lorenzo got kidnapped by a rival family, I found out I was three months pregnant. I took the million dollars his father offered, and I ran. The next time we met, I looked him in the eye and told him I'd been a mole for the rival family the whole time. He was chained up in a cellar, staring at me through the iron bars utterly despairing. He said he'd kill me himself, and then grind my bones to dust. Seven years later, when I saw him again, there was a beautiful woman on his arm. They were getting married. And I was so far down I had to beg him for a loan. He pulled out a thick stack of bills. Lit it on fire right in front of me. He said he'd rather burn it than give it to some whore feeding another man. He didn't know I was begging because my son was dying. His son too.

I've been with Dominic Hayes, a gang leader, for ten years. But on the day he goes clean and leaves the underworld behind, his men address someone else as his woman. The hands that once held guns and spilled blood now gently slip a crystal shoe onto another woman's foot. He says, "Violet, she's not like you. You were willing to follow me through chaos without needing a title, but she can't do that." That day, I don't look back. What Dominic doesn't know is that I'm the only daughter of an underground mafia king. When my family found out I was running wild, they quietly prepared a good man for me. All that's left is for me to say yes.

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

At our high school reunion, my ex announced he was getting married. In the middle of the congratulations, someone piped up. “Hey, where’s Wren tonight? She didn’t show?” The whole room cracked up. “Wren? Probably still earning her keep in some rich guy’s bed.” “She dumped James for money, and now look at him. He’s the wealthiest guy in New York. Bet she’s kicking herself.” Someone snickered. “I heard the guy’s some fat old man. God, how does she even stomach it.” I broke up with James Thorne the year he loved me the most, and walked straight into the arms of another man, a man with money. Now he had a new girlfriend, he’d taken over Thorne Capital, and he was one of New York’s most talked-about young executives. He’d organized this reunion because he couldn’t wait to show off how good his life had turned out. “Enough. Drop it.” In the middle of the laughter, James spoke up. “I have a better life now. Whether Wren is dead or alive has nothing to do with me anymore.” “What if she really were dead?” The room went silent.

The moment I opened the door, I never imagined that my fiancé would be in bed with my best friend, both of them wearing nothing. I went absolutely crazy and charged toward them, wanting nothing more than to kill the two of them. But my fiancé shoved me to the floor and, turning it around, blamed me instead. "Rosalind," he sneered, "if you hadn't been so self-righteous and refused to sleep with me, I wouldn't have cheated!" Fine. Since he no longer wanted me, I married his older brother. On the day of the wedding, I smiled at him and said, "Norris, guess what? I'm your sister-in-law now."

My mate, Alpha Julian, was born ruthless. He fell for a mute human girl, an innocent orphan whose scent could calm any wolf. He’d fought in pack wars his whole life. But with her, he discovered love. He only mated with me to secure his bloodline. His wolf never wanted me. I found out about their affair and confronted him at the full moon ceremony. I screamed. I raged. He didn't even look at me. "If you can't accept her," he said, "we can sever the bond. I'll give you your freedom and half my wealth." I refused. Again and again. But he was relentless. He wiped out my pack. He allied with witches and tortured my parents to death in silver cages. I knelt before him, broken and begging. I could only watch as dark magic devoured them. The pain shattered me. I passed out. And woke up on the day I first learned of his betrayal. This time, I didn't scream. I plotted. I contacted a powerful Alpha in the North, arranging sanctuary for my people. I planned my escape. But when I finally vanished, Julian was the one who went insane. He was the one who begged me to come back.

The day my husband left the country on a business trip with his assistant, I learned—by sheer accident—that his archenemy was plotting revenge overseas. Without a second thought, I raced to the airport and stopped him from boarding the plane. But his assistant went ahead, alone. And over there, she was killed brutally. Not a trace of her remains was ever found. When my husband received the news, he fell apart. Wracked with guilt, eaten alive by remorse, he spiraled into a relentless, violent mania. In the past three years, I'd been in and out of hospitals more times than I could count because of him. And this time, he pushed me so far—I lost our child. Then I overheard a conversation between him and his secretary. "Sir, Casey is still alive. Why keep pretending you're sick? Aren't you afraid your wife will find out and leave you?" "Leave me? What right does she have to be angry?" He laughed coldly. "If she hadn't stopped me from going abroad, Casey would've never been lured away by that bastard. Everything Linda's suffering now—she brought it on herself."

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] Being the third party in a relationship cuts deeper than any blade ever could. I watch him glorify her, obsess over her, pour every ounce of his devotion into someone who will never be his wife. The bitter irony tastes like poison on my tongue. I deserve that consuming passion, that unwavering dedication. After all, I'm the one who wears his ring, bears his name, shares his bed. Yet when he looks at me, there's nothing. Just cold, empty indifference. "You are nobody to me." His words echo through my memory like a death knell. "It's impossible for me to care about you. The only person I want isn't here because of you." The marriage was nothing more than a business transaction. I realized this truth far too late.