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I was in a car accident on my way to my son, Nathan’s piano competition. Ignoring my injuries, I limped to the venue just in time for the awards ceremony. Nathan won the gold medal. With excitement shining in his eyes, he ran toward me. But as I smiled at him, he turned and placed the medal around the neck of my husband’s first love, Janine Beck. My husband of ten years, Christopher Frost, looked at me with irritation. “Look at what you’re wearing! You’re filthy, like a beggar,” he said cruelly. “Don’t come to Nathan’s celebration dinner tonight—he’s embarrassed by you!” I stayed silent and went alone to the hospital to have my injuries checked. Later, I returned to the villa, drenched in the rain, only to find the doors locked against me. I knocked on the door in the pouring rain for the entire night. At dawn, when the first light broke across the sky, I sent Christopher a message: [Let’s get a divorce. As you wish, I will no longer be an eyesore in your lives.]

I lost my eyesight to save Sean Sherman. He had once made a vow in front of everyone, "Rachel Todd, even if you can't see, I will take care of you for the rest of my life." I was deeply moved. I secretly sought out treatment and I kept the recovery of my eyesight a secret as a surprise for him. But on the day I regained my sight, I saw Sean holding his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Cross, in his arms, fooling around with her right in front of me. "You last really long today. Is it because your wife is watching us?" "What do you think? She was the one who bought me these protection products." I understood every word of their sign language. At that moment, my blood ran cold. Suppressing the nausea that was about to overwhelm me, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the research team that had been inviting me for a long time. I told them yes—I would join their research project. I was going to leave Sean behind and make sure he lived the rest of his life in regret.

The first born son of the Laird to the largest clan on the boarder is one of three identical triplets. But nobody really knows which one was born first! So who will rule? The king will decide. Or will he? To keep peace in the highlands and unite the boarder lands the king feels all three men must have a clan to rule. Since all three are unwed, he chooses brides for them that will result in each of the triplets having a clan to rule and a wife to create heirs with. Assuming the laird named his first son after himself, the king weds Griogair to the second daughter of the clan to the west. He and Eliana would stay on MacInnis land, uniting it through marriage with the MacDonald clan that stretched from their boarder to the west coast. He wed the remaining brothers to clans that had only women as direct heirs. Padraig to the widow Fraiser and Alasdair to the young Isobel whose father owned the land on the east coast. But the men have other ideas. This is a game the men have played since they were small. Padraig tosses a silver coin and his brother's nod, instantly swapping identities as smoothly as taking a step. Will anyone notice they have each chosen their own wife? Just as nobody knows which son was first born, few can tell them apart. Certainly not the emissary or clergy sent by the king! But when the truth comes to light, will it all unravel?

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”

Plaque!!! A slap landed on my cheek, I don't know how many times I have experienced something like this, I really can't stand it anymore, my God, please help me to get out of this house, Mr. Raka always insults me, not infrequently he even throws a punch at me just out of jealousyany woman would never want to live long with an arrogant man like him. It all started with an incoming message on my cellphone and the one who sent it was my ex-boyfriend when I was in high school, we separated because I had to move house to Kalimantan Island and we had to have a long-distance relationship at first everything went smoothly but a few months passedIt's the harsh reality that I got, it seems that my lover is having an affair with my own best friend on this island of Kalimantan and since then my feelings for him have disappeared until I met mas raka who is currently my husband. My harmonious household has now disappeared since he sent me a message. Ting! My cellphone notification sound is a sign that there is an incoming message, but I wonder who sent me a message using a new number? Because of my curiosity, I opened it and what a surprise when I opened it, it turned out to be a message from my former Yogi. [Hi, how are you? it's me yogi] There was not the slightest intention that crossed my mind to reply to the message, but when I was about to delete the message, suddenly my brother took my cellphone, "Yogi? Is this your former yogi?" he asked. I just kept quiet and didn't answer because if I answered, there would definitely be a feud between me and Mas Raka. "Answer Lia" he snapped.

Bru•tal ˈbro͞odl/ adjective savagely violent. "a brutal murder" synonyms: savage, cruel, vicious, ferocious, brutish, barbaric, barbarous, wicked, murderous, bloodthirsty, cold-blooded, callous, heartless, ruthless, merciless, sadistic; More Punishingly hard or uncomfortable. direct and lacking any attempt to disguise unpleasantness. ~ "I will fucking end your life, right here right now." He said as he placed the pistol to my head "Don't test me." He said as he smiled sinisterly while loading the gun.

Like most of the other Alphas in the Werewolf clan, Freya is a natural Alpha female who is loved and respected. She was compelled to believe it at first, but she didn't want to when she visited another pack and found out that her mate was an average Omega. In to force the Omega, her mate, back to her tribe against his will, she had to assert her claim over him. And what will happen when she finds out he's a Lycan and a direct descendent of the moon goddess? How will her partner, the Omega, discover his true identity and the reason behind his transformation from a highly capable pack member to an average Omega?

"You're no daughter of this pack," my mother hissed, her golden eyes flashing in the firelight. "If you can't support your Alpha sister, then get out." I should have seen it coming. In the Ashveil Pack, family means everything—unless you're me. Vera Darkthorne, the disappointment. While my perfect sister Eris got the love, the title, even my mate Cain, I got a mating ceremony where nobody showed up. Not even the man who swore he'd always be mine. That night, I ran. Now I've built a new life in Berlin's underground werewolf syndicate, where strength is the only law that matters. I've learned to fight, to lead, to make wolves twice my size back down with just a look. But when a message comes that Eris's dying, the pack demands my return. "Come home, Vera," my father's voice crackles through the phone. "Your sister needs you." I almost laugh. After everything? But this time, I'm not the weak wolf they left behind. This time, I have fangs of my own. And when wolves hunt you down, you don't run—you rip their throats out first.

I'd been home for half a month, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that Mom wasn't quite herself anymore. She looked and sounded like she always had, but something felt different. Then, one day, I got a message from her that sent a chill down my spine. "Lily, hide! There's a ghost in the house!" At first, I thought she was pulling a prank on me—or maybe her account got hacked. Then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Mom, who had just finished cooking, called out to tell me the meal was ready. I was still hesitating when another message popped up. It was a voice message. "Trust me, Lily. I'm your real mom! The one out there is a ghost! Run!" It sounded just like Mom's voice from outside. My mind was racing in panic. Not hearing me respond, Mom giggled from the other side of the door and said, "I'm coming in."

"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years—three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined—he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end—almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me—only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!