Dulce Report

À l'étape de l'échange des alliances, mon mari n'a toujours pas prononcé le « oui, je veux l'épouser ». C'était simplement parce que son premier amour avait soudainement annoncé sa rupture, une heure auparavant. Elle avait publié une photo de billet d'avion, avec une heure d'arrivée prévue dans une heure. Mon frère est soudainement monté sur scène et a annoncé à tout le monde que le mariage avait été reporté. Ils m'ont laissée là, en parfaite entente, faisant de moi la risée de tous les invités. J'ai géré tout cela avec calme en regardant la mise à jour sur Instagram du premier amour de mon mari. Sur la photo, mon frère et mon mari étaient autour d'elle, lui offrant le meilleur de tout. J'ai souri amèrement en appelant mes parents biologiques : « Papa, maman, je suis prête à rentrer à la maison, j'accepte le mariage arrangé en tant que fille de notre famille des Thomas. »

My wife, Ivy Hart, is about to give birth to the baby she conceived with Toby Clayton, her first love. Her parents hire ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. Cora Norris, Ivy's mother, takes Ivy's hand and remarks, "Don't worry, Ivy. We'll make sure he can't get within two feet of you! Your dad is standing guard outside with the bodyguards. If he dares to stop you from having the baby, we'll report him to the police!" Ivy nods, her complexion pale, but she instinctively looks toward the door anyway. She doesn't see why I can't be more understanding of her. All she wants to do is help Toby have a child to carry on his family name. The birth proceeds without me showing up to cause a scene. She smiles gladly when she sees the crying baby in the nurse's arms. She thinks to herself that if I visit her tomorrow, she is willing to forget all about our previous fights. She is even willing to let me be the baby's father. What she doesn't know is that I've already submitted my application to the Alliance of Nations. In seven days, I will be leaving the country to become a field doctor for the Frontline Medical Corp, a humanitarian organization. I won't be coming back ever again.

When my best friend, Tricia Tate, finds out I have secretly switched my husband's used rubber with her father-in-law's, she has a full-on meltdown right then and there. In my last life. Tricia had been abused by her husband and asked to stay at my place for a while. I felt sorry for her and agreed to let her stay temporarily. But just two weeks later, she unexpectedly found out she was pregnant. I was about to ask her what had happened when her husband suddenly showed up and broke my husband's leg before dragging my whole family into court. In court, Tricia sobbed uncontrollably, accusing my husband, Jayden Lowe, of being a predator and claiming he had assaulted her while she was living with us. She said I didn't just ignore it but helped him carry it out. Jayden and I denied everything in court, but she pulled out an amniocentesis report, proving that the baby was indeed Jayden's. The internet exploded with hate against us, and the court sentenced both of us to prison, ordering us to pay her ten million in emotional damages. In the end, Jayden and I went to jail, while Tricia took that ten million, aborted the baby, and lived happily ever after with her husband. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the very day Tricia came to stay at my house.

I exercised too hard during the day and, by midnight, a sharp pain tore through my stomach. When I checked my pants, there was blood. I called my friend immediately and had him rush me to the hospital. The moment I finished explaining my symptoms, the doctor did not even pause to think before saying, "This is a potential miscarriage. We need to start treatment right away." My eyes went wide. I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me. Her gaze dripped with contempt. "I see dozens of patients every day. I know exactly what you women are like. Probably had abortion after abortion in school with zero self-respect. Now that you're getting older, you want to trap some nice guy into cleaning up your mess." I had never met such an unprofessional doctor in my life. Anger flared in my chest, and I threatened to report her on the spot. She barely blinked. "Touched a nerve, huh? I'm just trying to help you out here. Doctors have it so hard these days. Tell someone the truth and complaints are all you get." The whispers started around me. People staring, judging, pointing. I had truly had enough. Had it occurred to literally anyone that I might just be a guy with long hair?

"My Alpha, if your Luna knew that the embryo transplanted into her womb was actually our fertilized egg, she was just our surrogate, she'd probably be so furious to kill herself, right?" Elora gasped. My mate, Damon, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, was kneading Elora's breasts. "I don't like her either. But if she dies, who's going to manage my pack? You little minx," Damon chuckled, pulling her from the front and ruthlessly pounded into her from behind. "So, we have to keep this a secret. When our child is born and inherits my Alpha position, we'll deliver the final blow to her." I pretended not to know. I gave birth to the child and raised him with great care. Twenty-two years later, after my son Torin completed his studies, we handed over the Alpha position and all my wealth to him. At the succession ceremony, in front of the elders, nobles, and alliance leaders, Elora walked in arm-in-arm with my mate, holding a DNA paternity test report up to me. "Torin is the biological son of Damon and me. Now, it's time to return him to me." My son pulled out a small vial, said to me mercilessly, "This is a potion I got from a witch. Drink it now, break the mate bond with my father, and get as far away as possible." I smiled slightly, "Alright."

My fiancé’s pampered niece, Jenna Quinn, had just returned from abroad. The moment she got back, she caused a scene at our engagement party, throwing out so-called “evidence” of my alleged affair in front of the media. Zac Quinn had no choice but to leave me with the mess, clutching his hysterical niece as they left. His parting words? “This is just an engagement party. Jenna’s well-being is far more important.” After I painstakingly managed to control the public narrative and was waiting for Jenna to make a public clarification to settle the matter, she instead curled up in Zac’s arms, crying softly. Zac’s expression turned cold. “Jenna only has me, while you have so many people who love you. Why must you target her?” At first, I thought Zac was just being overly protective of his niece, who had lost her parents at a young age—until I saw the two of them kissing. “You’re the precious girl I’ve raised with my own hands. From now on, Nina will be your aunt, and she’ll shower you with love, too,” he said. I clenched the ultrasound report in my hand and, without hesitation, tossed it into the trash. Love that can’t be held onto isn’t worth keeping. I decided to return home, accept my family’s marriage alliance, and fully embrace my role as the heiress of the Walker Corporation.

My live-in husband used my family’s influence to climb all the way to the position of Deputy Fire Chief. Throughout our five years of marriage, he has stood me up on every anniversary by using work as his excuse. This year, he finally agreed to celebrate our anniversary with me. But he only did so out of guilt. He had manipulated me into staying abroad to handle matters for him, which made me miss saying goodbye to my sister while she was dying in childbirth. The dinner was just his way of pretending to be sorry. As our dishes were served, my husband saw a news report about a fire at a top-tier postpartum care center downtown. He immediately ditched me and rushed to the scene. The fire station headquarters was just one block over! And he had specifically taken leave that week. I accidentally answered a call on his personal phone, and that was when I realized why he had been away from me most of the time. This man would not even buy me a cheap birthday gift, yet he had spent a packet to book a stay at a postpartum center for his mistress! I had to see for myself what kind of woman would have him so spellbound. I was determined to make him pay back every single item he had gotten from the Grant family, with interest.

Estuve cinco años casada con el heredero de la familia Romano, la más poderosa del crimen organizado en Italia. Cada noche, me abrazaba y susurraba: —Solo dame un heredero, y le daré todo el imperio Romano. Pero nunca quedé embarazada, y la decepción del jefe de la mafia hacia mí crecía con cada mes que pasaba. Hasta que descubrí que mi esposo había estado cambiando a escondidas mi ácido fólico por pastillas anticonceptivas. Aún me tambaleaba por la furia cuando vi una publicación de su exnovia: una foto de ultrasonido. Su mensaje era dulce y presumido: —Diez semanas. Vincent dice que no puede esperar para conocer al bebé. Al ver la avalancha de felicitaciones, tomé una decisión. Busqué los datos de contacto de mi exnovio, aquel que había pasado los últimos cinco años intentando recuperarme, y le envié un solo mensaje: "Dame un mes. Luego voy contigo."

During the holiday season, a flood hits. The company's warehouse is submerged up to the third floor. Due to the emergency, I have my assistant tell everyone to come back a day early to help. I promise that the company will provide stipends and extra time off to make up for this. But on that day, a Gen Z employee goes live across the internet to report me. "Oh, my God. It's 2025, yet there are still companies forcing employees to adjust their time off and work overtime! Is this heartless boss so broke that she needs to exploit us like this? Will she die if she doesn't squeeze us out of every drop of usefulness? Company notices override the law. Impressive stuff, this is!" Soon, the company ends up on the trending list due to criticism from the online community. Even the regulators come knocking to hold us accountable. In the end, the company is forced to cancel the notice. A lot of equipment isn't salvaged in time, resulting in significant losses. The employee even posts a victory lap. "Give the boss a tiny lesson—see if she dares to force overtime again!" I'm so angry that I laugh out loud. I tell my assistant to cancel the annual benefit we give all employees—an entire month of paid time off for Christmas and the New Year holidays. If we have to stick strictly to the law, then fine. Have it your way!

My name is Samantha Lane. I've forgotten to pay the taxes, and the company's accounts are now frozen. I'm not panicking, but my husband's foster sister, Zoey Quinn, is losing her mind. In my previous life, Zoey was the one who suggested using her summer bonus to take the entire company on a trip to Slarqia. What I didn't expect was that her supposed generosity would drain every cent from the company's account. As a result, the company's cash flow collapsed, and I was left buried under hundreds of millions in debt. When I went to her to ask for the money back, she leaned smugly against my husband's chest and said, "Samantha, I only spent a few tens of millions. How could that bankrupt the company? Don't be so dramatic!" My husband, Harry Jennings, glared at me with his face twisted in anger. "Samantha, the company's money is marital property. I agreed to let Zoey spend it. Back off, alright?" I wanted to report it to the police, but they abducted me and smuggled me out of the country. I ended up being tortured to death. When my coworkers heard the news, they actually cheered. They said I had it coming, like some heartless capitalist had finally gotten her karma. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Zoey is inviting everyone on a trip to Slarqia.