Female Masquerade Masks

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

"Mom, Dad, I’ve decided to come home for the blind dates you mentioned. I’ll be back by the end of the month." In the early spring, with the lingering chill of winter in the air, Valerie Stonecutter pushed open the door while speaking softly into the phone. Her gentle voice drifted through the rain like a thread weaving through the mist. Pulling her collar tighter against the cold, she heard her parents breathe a sigh of relief on the other end. "Val," her father began, his voice heavy with age. “Your mom and I haven’t been in good health these past few years. So now that you’ve made up your mind, that’s good. When you’re back, I’ll have your Aunt Laura arrange a few suitable candidates for you to meet." Hearing that her parents were already making arrangements for her future, Valerie’s gaze flickered, her emotions momentarily unsettled. After a few more words of small talk, she ended the call. She glanced around her home with a heavy heart, her thoughts tangled in a quiet storm. Then she retreated to her bedroom and began to pack.

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

He was a rich kid, and after graduation, his family paid for him to find a job. But he did not expect that the place where he worked was a notorious women's prison, and it is said that all men who enter this prison do not end up well. Now he is the only male correctional officer in this prison. In the women's prison, female prisoners, female correctional officers, female leaders, a wave of women came one after another, leaving him dazzled and overwhelmed. The female inmates are willing to pay any price to get close to him for their purposes. A wave of female inmates and criminal conspiracies follow one another, and as he delves deeper, he discovers that there are hidden secrets and laws of survival behind this prison.

On the day my boyfriend gets engaged, I'm locked in the bedroom even though I'm supposed to be with him. By the time I make it to the venue, I see him passionately kissing his first love. When I confront him, he scoffs. "Kirsty’s a wealthy heiress who can help with my career. Isn't being my girlfriend enough for you?" With my answer loud and clear, I turn and call home. "Mom, Dad—about that arranged marriage you mentioned... I'm in." The day he marries Kirsty Bainbridge is also the day I marry my alliance partner. And the moment he sees me in a wedding dress, he completely loses his composure.

Dakota Stelter and I tumbled down that steep ravine together. I lay there bleeding and broken, only to watch my boyfriend scoop her into his arms and walk away without a backward glance. He left me. In that moment, in every way that mattered. While everyone fussed over Dakota's scratches, no one even checked if I was still breathing. When I was finally rescued and recovering at the hospital, my boyfriend didn't even visit. I was hurt. So I moved on. Piece by piece, I rebuilt myself without him. But then he became distraught. Suddenly, he was sobbing, telling me he had always loved me.

On the day of my wedding to Elliot Wendell, a fake heiress committed suicide. In the second year of our marriage, we ended up enemies. He hated me, the true heiress, for returning and causing Celeste Dent’s death. I hated him for loving the woman who had taken my place as an heiress for twenty years. During the ten years of our marriage, we fought each other with vicious words and wished for the other to die. Then, there was an earthquake, and he shielded me beneath him. He protected me with his back. The building collapsed, and he ended up a mangled and bloody corpse. As he lay dying, he whispered into my ear, “If I had known that she would die, I would’ve never taken you home.” “If we ever meet again, it would be better if I were your only family.” In the end, I still died in the secondary quakes. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had gone back in time. It was the day when he brought me to the Dent family to regain my rightful place among them. Elliot suddenly changed his mind and said, “Samantha, I was wrong. You’re not the daughter the Dent family lost twenty years ago.”

My stepdaughter, Alana Greenwood, brought me some abortion medicine on her Coming-of-Age Ceremony. Everyone around knew of her little "prank", but none came to stop her. Even my husband just stood and watched. I smiled bitterly as I took the medicine and drank it in one go. I immediately felt the pain in my lower abdomen. My head began to spin, but I could still hear the harsh tone in Alana’s voice. "Well, did you think you could replace my mother after giving birth to your child? Let me tell you this, Dad agreed to marry you back then because I was young and was in need of a free nanny! If you dare think about replacing my mother, you will be kicked out of the Greenwood family!" I covered my stomach and took a deep breath. "There's no need for the trouble. You're an adult now and I've completed my task. I'll leave... tomorrow."

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.