Dumbledore Asked Calmly Page

They say the Blood Moon Pack are bloodthirsty monsters—merciless and savage. And their Alpha, Killian Nightbane, is the most ruthless of them all. A beast feared across the realm. But there’s one more secret… The Blood Moon Pack is cursed. No member has ever found their true mate. Then came an alliance with a rival pack… and Isabella Hart—an omega traded like a peace offering, sacrificed to a rival pack’s most ruthless Alpha. Fragile. Unwanted. Alone. Everyone believes she is the weakest she-wolf alive. What they don’t know? A rare white wolf stirs inside her—ancient, powerful, and chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. A power she has never fully awakened… a power the world isn’t ready for. Killian never wanted her. His heart already belonged to another—the woman who once saved his life. His duty as Alpha forced him into marriage, so he vowed to destroy Isabella, to make her existence unbearable, to loathe her with every breath. Yet… Every time he touches her, something ignites. A spark too dangerous to ignore. A pull too primal to deny. His wolf doesn’t crave war… It craves her. Hungry. Possessive. Unrelenting. A need that claws beneath his skin, demanding the bond he swore would never exist. And as Isabella steps foot into the Blood Moon territory, the impossible begins to happen— Borders fall to rogues. The curse stirs. And the pack itself shifts around her. Now Killian stands torn between hate and desire, duty and instinct. As Alpha, he must protect his Luna. As a man drowning in resentment… part of him wants to let her burn.

I married a man I couldn't touch then slept with a man I couldn't trust. After walking in on my husband in bed with my cousin and getting her pregnant. I didn’t just sign the divorce papers. I lit them on fire. Frigid, they called me. Uptight. Ice queen. So I moved out. Looked for a roommate. Someone quiet. Preferably female. Her name was Kylie. Except... Kylie turned out to be Kyle—a smug, tattooed stranger with a dirty-mouth and secrets carved into his smirk. He’s cocky, cruel, and way too hot for a man who eats peanut butter from the jar and calls it dinner. One drunken night, I let him in. All the way in. And I swore it meant nothing. Until I found my uncle lying in a pool of blood— And Kyle was holding the gun.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me. I’ve been replaying every sound you made, every way you came apart for me.” His grip tightened. “I’m not letting that go. I’m not letting you go. Fuck the friendship. I want you.” I let out a little gasp. His thumb rubbed across my lower lip. “I don’t just want to fuck you—I want to keep you. You’re my favorite sin, and I’ll commit it again and again until you understand you’re mine.” His lips twitched a little. “You’ve always been mine, Savannah.” ——- Her sister is marrying her ex. So she brings her best friend as her fake fiancé. What could possibly go wrong? Savannah Hart thought she was over Dean Archer—until her sister, Chloe announces she's marrying him. The same man Savannah never stopped loving. The man who left her heartbroken… and now belongs to her sister. A weeklong wedding in New Hope. One mansion full of guests. And a very bitter maid of honor. To survive it, Savannah brings a date—her charming, clean-cut best friend, Roman Blackwood. The one man who’s always had her back. He owes her a favor, and pretending to be her fiancé? Easy. Until fake kisses start to feel real. Now Savannah’s torn between keeping up the act… or risking everything for the one man she was never supposed to fall for.

Kiran York descended from his home in the mountains to cancel his engagement, only to have his fiancee immediately drag him off to the city hall to grab his marriage license. Also, she’s gorgeous?!No. His wife’s good looks would not sway him. He must divorce her! He refused to become a kept man!At his declaration, his wife very calmly asked, “How many children do you want?”Kiran screamed, “I’m the Miracle Doctor! Don’t you dare defile me!”

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

My husband was a senior military officer and a hardcore military fanatic. When I went into labor and my life was at risk, I begged him to sign the consent form for an emergency C-section. Instead, he looked at me coldly and asked, “What’s the maximum cruising speed of a Boeing 747? Answer correctly, and I’ll sign.” Later, my body tore from the prolonged labor, and our son suffocated to death. He said calmly, as if reciting a fact, “One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. Remember that?” At that moment, I looked at his indifferent expression and realized that I no longer loved him. With that, I left behind the divorce papers and disappeared from his life. “Felix, the military-illiterate wife you were ashamed of will never come back.”

During the year that changed my life, my high school homeroom teacher called me to the corridor and asked if I was the heroine of the dirty scandal that shook the whole school. “I know you’re here on a scholarship because of your family’s underprivileged background, but you can’t just do anything for money!” As everyone threw me strange looks, she continued smugly, “Don’t deny it. The mole on the girl’s neck is just like yours!” I calmly wiped off the ink stain on my skin, revealing my unblemished neck. My teacher turned red in the face. Unfortunately for her, I had been reborn. This time, I was not going to fall into the same traps.

On the same day I was admitted into the hospital for my pregnancy, my husband, Charles Page, received 108 missed calls on his phone. It was from Sue, his mentee, a girl who had cancer. I asked if he was going to pick up, and he replied impatiently, "All she does is call me all day! Doesn't she have any other family? She's so annoying." Later, that very girl posted a photo of herself on the hospital rooftop, wearing a white dress. The caption said: [If I jump down from here, will I become a butterfly in my next life? Maybe then, everyone won't hate me.] Charles only glanced at the post before chuckling mockingly. "What does she mean, turn into a butterfly? Is she delusional?" But after that, he grew visibly restless, before rushing out and not returning all night. That night, I hemorrhaged and was taken into emergency care. When the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the baby, I looked at the empty space beside me and answered calmly. "No, I don't."

When I learned that Holly Jones had gone to deliver cold medicine to her young assistant, even though she knew I was trapped in the elevator and suffered from claustrophobia, I asked for a divorce. Holly signed without hesitation. Smiling at her best friend, she said, "Jim is just throwing a little tantrum. His parents are gone, so there's no way he'd really divorce me. Besides, there's a thirty-day cooling-off period before it's finalized. If he regrets it, I'll graciously forgive him and take him back." The very next day, she posted a couples' photoshoot with her assistant, captioned: [Capturing your every sexy moment.] I counted the days. Calmly, I packed my belongings and made a phone call. "Uncle, buy me a ticket to Hudson City."