Female Vegeta

It's my third wedding anniversary with Eanes Lambert. However, he and his childhood sweetheart put on a public display of affection on their social media. "My heart beats for you and you only." I like the post and share it, but the original post is immediately deleted. Later, Eanes calls me to tell me off. "I was just comforting her because she was in a bad mood. Do you have to be so petty? What else can you do other than get jealous of others?" The next second, I receive a photo of him and his childhood sweetheart kissing passionately. She's the one who's sent it to me. In the past, I would've stormed over there to kick up a fuss. Now, however, I merely choose to leave Eanes. I'll let him have what he wants.

(Rewritten version of 'Playboy Rehab' - Wattys 2014 Winner) Leslie King is a publicist nestled in the heart of Los Angeles representing Garrett Harrison, president of Harrison Incorporated - one of the world's leading real estate and brokerage empires. Having had Garrett Harrison as her client for years, she has grown used to the uniformity in her job - not to mention the uniformity in her personal life. However, when Garrett Harrison shares the news of his retirement, Leslie's professional and personal life becomes anything but the harmonious routine she has grown used to. Sebastian Harrison - handsome Hollywood playboy and the youngest son of Garrett Harrison - enters Leslie's life in the most unusual of ways as she is asked to turn the King of Debauchery into a man fit and trusted enough to become the CEO of Harrison Incorporated. Even though Leslie vows to fulfill the expectations of the task handed to her, she soon discovers that Sebastian Harrison's past is darker and more complicated than what she has read and researched about him. Now, Leslie is caught between satisfying the expectations of her job description and helping the mysterious and twisted spirit that Sebastian Harrison possesses. Regardless of what choice she makes, Leslie knows that there is more to Sebastian Harrison than she could have ever prepared herself for.

A deal between families forced my Fiancé Marco Corvini to marry me. My parents were dead. His obsession was Isabella Falcone, the princess of our rivals. In the end, Marco devoured my family’s empire and threw me to the wolves. He paraded Isabella on his arm like a prize he’d won. Twenty years later, I was on my deathbed. My own son—our son—held the poison. He said I was useless, that his father needed the Falcone family’s power. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day of my blood oath. This time, to save my family, I didn’t sign my name on the pact. I signed hers. Isabella Falcone’s. As for me? I took the fortune my parents left me and disappeared. This time, I wouldn’t be the fool bleeding for a man who was never mine.

Ethan Shaw had died. Before the funeral, his wife, Stella Walker, packed his belongings and found a thick photo album. [My True Love] On the cover, it said— She opened it. The photos inside were not of her. They were Rachel Chester—the girl Ethan had adopted years ago. Not only that, Ethan left all his wealth to her. Stella died with hate in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before she married Ethan. This time, she chose to live for herself and walked away from Ethan to pursue her own dream. What she did not expect was that, in this life, Ethan went mad looking for her when she left. He searched for her everywhere.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

A young, beautiful she-wolf moves into the house opposite mine. She always strikes up conversations with me, her tone filled with enthusiasm. "You and Mr. Howl have such a great relationship. Even after seven years of marriage, he still kisses you goodbye when he leaves. It’s so sweet." She blinks playfully before continuing, "I have a friend who constantly complains about his mate. He says every time he kisses her, it feels like he's kissing a fat pig. Her scent disgusts him, and he can't even get hard when she's around. "And at night… just the sight of her belly rolls and sagging skin makes him want to throw up." I don’t particularly like this she-wolf, but I still offer her a polite smile. That night, however, when my mate kisses me, he suddenly freezes—then pushes me away and runs to the bathroom to vomit.

After my death, my parents sign an organ donor consent form on my behalf. They have my corneas removed and transplanted onto their beloved adoptive daughter, Grace Lane. She later marries my brother, and they become a true family. Grace and I competed over everything in life, yet I ended up dying with nothing. Now that I've been given a chance to start over, I decide to live life without them. Surprisingly, I find myself getting a happy ending.

To kill is to live. Elena has been living by that principle since she was fifteen, when she was disowned by her parents for the sole reason that she was not a son who could continue their family's legacy. The night she was thrown out, she was chased by a pack of wild hybrid dogs down the woods, and almost died if not for the help of Henry. He brought her to the House of Spades, an infamous guild of the most priced assassins. Even after knowing what place she was into, Elena accepted the offer to be an assassin. She wants to prove to everyone, especially to her parents that as a female, she can be a strong and skilled fighter that could equal a man. Blood flowed from her hands the moment she learned how to use sword. Now that she's nineteen, she's ought to do the biggest mission she ever had: To kill the Raven Pack's Alpha. She had everything planned for the big night. She will kill the Alpha at night of the pack's celebration when everyone is most likely distracted. However, when she went to the Alpha's chamber that night to slaughter him, she was surprised when the Alpha was anticipating her arrival, calmly sitting on the bed, eyes gold and blazing. Elena didn't want love in her life, let alone love. That's why when she wasn't able to resist him on that one night, she's willing to move mountains just to avoid him. They met in the city again, but this time she was filled when regrets when Rage died in front of her. A hundred years later, they were reincarnated as normal people in human world and had completely forgotten about their past life. Will they have their happy ending this time?

Herbert Fischer lets his precious childhood sweetheart dump scalding stew all over me as everyone watches. Worse, he tells me to apologize, all because I said one harsh sentence to her. Tears stream down my face as I ask him, "Is my life worth less than a hair on her head?" He snorts. "Stop overthinking. It's just hot stew—you won't die from a few burns."

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.