Doctor Who Once Upon A Time

Everyone she loves could be gone in a minute, and she dreaded it, that's why she'd concealed it. Nobody realized that she was the offspring of the Mark. Yet, Catherine was beyond wretched, how they played her, how she was a pawn. It crushed her faith, lies were told.

My husband, Alex Carter, is a top AI engineer. He one day gets drugged by a new intern at his company, and one night of chaos follows. He calls me the next morning, his voice hoarse from a hangover and filled with unfamiliar panic. "Em, I messed up. But don't worry. I gave her enough money to disappear from this city." After ten years together, I believe it is just a momentary lapse in judgment. Six months later, Alex's company suffers the worst cyber attack in its history, with core data hanging by a thread. I rush back from a fragrance exhibition in Astral, only to witness a scene at the data center entrance that sends me into shock. Alex stands outside the tightly sealed door, his face showing a weariness and guilt I have never seen before. The doctor says that the intern, Brooke Anderson, is three months pregnant and has spent 72 hours with him in the high-radiation server room. Now, she shows signs of miscarriage. Later, Brooke gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The entire Carter family is ecstatic. I remove the wedding ring that has accompanied me for ten years, my fingertips turning ice cold. I dial the number saved with only one letter "S" and say, "Mr. Sullivan, I accept the collaboration you proposed last time." A low, soft laugh comes from the other end of the line. "Ms. Emma Shaw, that's a wise decision."

As my blade pierces the base of his neck, the silver sizzles against his skin. His cold blue eyes open wide. The grim reality of his situation sets in. He gulps hard and shakes his head in fear. "I repent." He squeaks like the coward he is. "Forgive my crimes. Let me face the Council." "You'll find no mercy here, Sin." Blood gushes down his bare chest freely. "You will be judged by the Goddess." His expression quickly changes to one of anger, exposing his ruse. "I see you in the Palace of the Goddess, I will kill you again." I growl. "And if she casts me out, I will meet you on the edge of the River Styx and kill you in Purgatory over and over until the Ferryman come to collect us. And if Hades allows, I will continue to kill you in the Underworld until the end of time." "I underestimated you." He chokes. "Everyone does." I whisper as I lay my full weight against the pommel.

On their third anniversary, Finley had all their friends over to celebrate. Claire walked in to find him on one knee, proposing to his childhood friend, Renee. "What is going on?" she asked. He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's just a game of truth or dare." But it wasn't until he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry, that she finally woke up. She'd given him five chances. Now? She was done. "Finley, it's over. Let's get divorced."

Leaving my birth home seemed like the most difficult decision until I have to adapt as the Alpha of a Pack I know nothing about. When erroneous and jeopardizing choices streaks into the Pack, it seems as if a mass of perilous bombs revolves around the Sphere. My life is taking a bad turn and Phyllis does not give me a moment of slack. She wants to groom a strong, defensive Alpha and I see all her effort crashing when my Mate dies. Yet in the heart of these inevitable occurrences, not only do I find myself flanked by my mating bond and the gripping snare of a furtive woman. I also realize that I am wedged between the plights of a reincarnated Mephistophelean searching for his rebirthed lover and a savage witch striving to rouse her Queen from an infinity curse. Caveat: Detailed smut scene, flecks of same-sex smut~

I was born a liar. That was the label my mother gave me. In the Dark Moon Pack, every pup carries a Lunar Mark on their wrist. Green means truth. Red means liar. My twin sister Maya slashed Mommy's ceremonial dress with a blade and blamed the pack hounds. Her wrist stayed soft and green. My mark went crimson when I said I was cold. "Mommy, I'm telling the truth. Please believe me." Elena would crouch down, look me in the eye, and say the same thing every time. "The Goddess's mark is absolute, Selena. Your own heart betrays you." She never touched me. She just looked at my wrist with disgust. No matter how honest I tried to be, my heart would race when I was scared. And every time my pulse spiked, the mark turned red. I lied when I said I was hungry. I lied when I said I loved her. I lied when I cried. After enough years, I stopped fighting back. I started to believe her. Maybe I really was broken. Maybe I was just born wrong. The night I died, I wrote one last line in my Penance Journal. "Mommy, help me. It hurts. Please — just believe me once." She never saw it. She had already locked the door and walked away. I'm sorry, Mommy. I died still trying to get it right. In my next life — will you hold me?

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.

I've been married to Sylvia Fuller, a mafia donna, for ten years. I'm there with her in every life-and-death situation. My hands, which are meant for playing the piano, have developed calluses from using guns. They are also stained with blood from the enemies. But when Sylvia turns 28, she falls head over heels in love with Wilson Hink, the young man she's brought back from the slums. Sylvia has hidden him very well… right until the moment I bump into him accompanying her to a prenatal check-up. Mad with jealousy, I demand Sylvia for answers, but she just passes me a divorce agreement in a lackadaisical manner. "Wilson is a man of religion. He can't sire a child without getting married, so I have to give him a legitimate status. Sign this agreement, and I'll give you 40% of my shares." I refuse to give my position away, so Sylvia keeps forcing my hand. In the end, she even kidnaps my younger brother, who's paralyzed from waist down, and drags him to the spot beneath a hydraulic press. "Sebastian Chance, either you sign the agreement, or watch him get crushed. Your choice." I kneel on the ground and beg Sylvia to stop. But soon, I hear the hydraulic press being activated. It doesn't take long before I'm completely covered in my brother's flesh and blood. I end up collapsing onto the gore-splattered ground. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've gone back in time—back to the time when Wilson has accompanied Sylvia to the prenatal check-up. This time, I don't say anything. Instead, I contact a rehabilitation center located overseas before filing for a divorce and leaving Sylvia behind. But once I'm gone for real, Sylvia actually goes crazy.

When Olivia's young mother faced an impossible choice—keep her child or lose her inheritance—she made the heartbreaking decision to abandon the newborn Olivia at an orphanage. Growing up, Olivia never stopped hoping that one day she'd find a family of her own. That chance came when she turned 14 and the wealthy Hilton family adopted her. But reality hit her hard as soon as she realized she was merely a replacement for the Hiltons' missing daughter, Caroline. On Olivia's 24th birthday, the Hilton family announced her marriage to Clayton Bradford, four years her senior, the most sought-after bachelor in town, and the man she had secretly loved from afar. She thought he could learn to love her too. But four years later, he still couldn't forget Caroline. Just as Olivia discovered she was pregnant, Caroline returned, shattering any chance she had of Clayton truly loving her. Faced with the painful reality that she could never compete with his first love, Olivia asked for a divorce and left her husband.

My ex-husband is getting married. and.... I’m the one hired to plan the wedding. My name is Arabella Paloma Garcia. Five years ago, I was arranged to marry an Italian heir with an angel’s face and the personality of something between a blizzard and a natural disaster: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. We spent one year of marriage arguing hard enough to make a lawyer retire early. Then his ex came back, and I left with a divorce bracelet on my finger… and a pair of babies in my belly. Now I live in San Francisco. I own a wedding planning company, I’m a single mom to two demon twins, and I’m very, very proud of the fact that the name Ricciardi doesn’t appear anywhere in my life. Until one email lands in my inbox: Ricciardi–Marino Wedding. Groom: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. Bride: Alessandra Marino… the woman who once became the reason I got kicked out of his life. I should’ve said no. But Alessandra is infuriating, and I want to prove I’m over Rafael. So I take the job. But he walks in with a cold stare that sends my stomach straight to the floor. No recognition. A helicopter crash two years ago wiped six years of his life. Including me. Including our marriage. Perfect. I’ll plan my ex-husband’s wedding, send him down the aisle, and go back to my life. The plan goes smoothly. Right up until the wedding day. The bride disappears. The guests are waiting. The media is already rolling. And Rafael closes the bridal suite door… drops a bomb that earns him my fist in his face: “You’re the one who going to walk down the aisle with me.”