Even Though I Knew The End

Two broken hearts. One fake marriage. A thousand buried secrets. Eva thought love would be enough to keep them together. Ten years loving Stephan. Five years married to him. And one tragic accident that shattered everything they ever were, she’s left with a stranger wearing her husband’s face. Until the day she finally walks away. And that’s when she meets Micah, her ex-husband’s enemy, the man who once set her marriage on fire just by existing. He proposes to her a dangerous deal: a one-year marriage that will make Stephan regret ever letting her go. But what starts as a game to wound her ex soon spirals into something raw, tender, and terrifyingly real. Only, Micah isn’t what he seems. Behind his easy smile are secrets she was never meant to find, secrets that could destroy them both. And when the truth comes out, love might not be enough to save anyone. When the lies unravel… will her heart choose forgiveness — or freedom?

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

She was once a woman—a lesbian to be exact—in her past life, fantasizing about having a date with beautiful girls and dreaming to act like a real man does someday. But she was afraid to show her true colors because she was living in a judgemental society. Not until, she was trapped in a burning hospital building, trying to save an old woman before herself but only to find out that old woman was only an apparition of a deceased person. She died there, sacrificing her life for nothing. Many things happened in her mind before she runs out of breath. The next thing happened, she emerged from a bamboo tree and woke up into another realm. And to her surprise, she was reincarnated as a teenage guy possessing magical skills. She is Princess Maria Isabelle De Lata who later known as Reign Thunderstorm in the magical world of Artesia. And this is her… wait a minute… and this is the story of how she or… he became a legend.

“Here's the deal. Do that lawyer stuff that you do. Try to send me to jail.” “What?” I blinked. “I'm giving you a year, but in my territory. I'm not sending you back to the U.S, so better get used to Italy like you once lived.” “Excuse-” “But you'll have everything. Every resource. Impress me, show me why you're a top lawyer and get me locked up. Prove to everyone that I killed your parents.” “I'll send you to jail, even if it's the last thing I do, Roman. You're trying to ruin my life again, but this time I won't let you. You're finished.” “Now, the condition.” My eyes widened. Now a condition? “If you don't succeed, you won't ever have an opinion. You'll be my plaything, my pet, my personal slave, my cum bucket. You'll be whatever I want you to be, do you understand?” I felt instant chills ripple through me. “So that's what you want? To control me after killing my parents?” “Yes, exactly that. I want to humiliate you so badly, so better impress me and send me to jail, Gianna. Better do it.” His voice was thick with warning. No matter how much I desire him, I'll make sure he rots in jail. …… We don't always get what we want, Gianna. He killed her parents and she managed to escape the house fire. Years later and this invincible Mafia don gets arrested in the United States, and she's the top lawyer in charge of his case? Hmm, I wonder what happened next.

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

The Day I Was Reborn, I Rejected the Alpha In my previous life, on my third year as Luna, I took an arrow tipped with wolfsbane meant for my Alpha mate Julian. My wolf was nearly killed, and I lay comatose for three full years. When I finally woke, Julian held my sister Lyra's hand and told me they were in love. He wanted me to step aside. My adoptive mother, Eleanor, pressured me to accept it. I refused. When the three of them closed in on me, I appealed to the Council of Elders. In the end, the Council ruled that Lyra be exiled. She couldn't bear the humiliation, and took her own life. Julian let me keep my title as Luna, but he hated me for the rest of his life. He would look at me with cold, dead eyes. "You should never have woken up. Then I wouldn't have lost Lyra." My adoptive mother blamed me too — for killing my sister, for destroying our family. Seven years later, grief and alcohol had hollowed Julian out completely. On his deathbed, the cold mask slipped. He gripped my hand. "In the next life... will you let me have Lyra?" Something in me went numb. After Julian was gone, the pack fell apart without an Alpha. Every one of them cursed me for being the one still alive. In the fighting that came after, my own pack handed me over to a rival pack. They put a dozen arrows through me. I died alone in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes, I was back — back to the day I first woke up.

Five years ago, my girlfriend, Stacie Garcia, got crippled in an attempt to save me. Out of guilt, I stayed by her side and took on all the hardest grunt work so that I could use all of the money I've earned on her. But when I'm in the middle of cleaning a Porsche's dealership, I witness Stacie flirting with another young man there. To my shock, she's even standing without any problems. Stacie tells the man in a generous manner, "Which car do you have your eye on? I'll buy you any car no matter how expensive it is as long as you like it!"

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.