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Oliver Harding and I are on our way to get a divorce when a truck rams into our car, making us turn turtle. Before I lose consciousness, I hear him say, "If I get a second chance at life, I'll definitely accept Zara's confession. Living a life of excitement with her is what I truly want." When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day I got engaged. As in my past life, Zara Cox stands before Oliver with a bouquet and asks him whether he wants to be with her. He doesn't even spare me a glance as he drops to one knee before her. He holds out a ring and says, "I love you, Zara. Will you marry me?" Brilliant. He must have been reborn, too. I give them my blessings, and he and Zara live the exciting life he wants. But later, he falls to his knees before me. Tears stream down his face as he asks whether I can marry him again.

While inspecting my company’s cold-chain operations, my wife, Mandy Snow, and the college boy I’d been sponsoring suddenly vanished. As I passed the cabinet storing the research supplies, a stream of floating comments suddenly flashed before my eyes. “That was way too close! Jeff Miller almost caught them. Good thing Mandy reacted fast and dragged her boy toy into the storage cabinet.” “But that cabinet is about to be locked up and shipped to the Antarctic research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?” I froze. My wife was cheating on me right under my nose? I was just about to pull open the cabinet door when my wife’s assistant hurried over and forced a smile, blocking my way. “Mr. Miller, the seal on this cabinet was just waxed and hasn’t dried yet. Careful, or you’ll get your hands dirty.” The floating comments appeared again. “That was so close! The assistant’s pretty sharp. Once the female lead gets out, she totally owes him a car.” “No wonder she’s the lucky heroine. She always gets out of trouble. I seriously can’t wait to watch her sweet romance with her boy toy.” Looking at the comments in front of me, I let out a cold laugh. “These are critical supplies for the research team. To make sure nothing goes wrong, seal the cabinet right now.” “Go get a welder. Weld the door shut.” The assistant froze, and so did the floating comments. “What the hell? This evil supporting male character is brutal. The two people inside aren’t wearing a thing.” “Help! If the door gets welded shut, the male and female leads are going to drift at sea for a month and freeze into specimens!”

I saw my college roommate send a voice message into a group chat. I watched his screen as our four other roommates responded. However, there were no notifications on my phone. That was when I realized the five of them had created a group without me. In that group, they complained about me being a dumb rich kid, cursed my mom for being a homewrecker, and secretly took nude photographs of me. They were even planning to drug me and give me to a older rich woman for her entertainment. I covered all their meals, drinks, and living expenses, yet they dared to betray me? Fine. I would show them the true rage of a trust fund kid!

My parents adopted an AI daughter. The day she came home, I suddenly became the most hated person in the family. Dad said I was a thorn in his side. Mom thought I couldn't hold a candle to Sophia, the AI. My brother Jack yelled at me, "All you do is make trouble!" I was so furious that I shoved Sophia to the floor. Mom's face went dark. She struck me hard across the face. "Sophia is your sister! If you were even half as good as her, I wouldn't be this angry!" "You're going to the Academy of Exemplary Obedience to learn how to be a proper, obedient daughter." I was sent away to "swap places" with an AI daughter. Three years later, my parents and brother came to pick me up. They called my name, but I didn't move. The headmaster smiled and said, "Mrs. Walker, you have to say 'Activate' before Unit EVA will respond."

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

Hayden Baxter's sidepiece comes up to me and throws yet another tantrum. "I love Hayden too much. Can't you let me have him?" Hayden sits quietly on one side but texts me, "Just say yes and humor her for a bit." I do as I am told, then wordlessly begin to pack up my stuff so I can move out of the home I share with Hayden. On my way out, I hear his friends jesting, "Elena is surprisingly obedient. Does this mean she'll abort her baby if you ask her to, Hayden?" Hayden raises a brow, looking nonchalant. "Want to place a bet on it? "I bet she'd whine and throw a fit at the hospital entrance in a week, only to give in and do as she's told." I don't argue. Instead, I quietly tap on my conversation with someone else. "Will you marry me?" "Yes."

After my sister's death, I signed a five-year contract marriage with her mafia husband, Horton Falcone. I became the stepmother to my five-year-old nephew, Luca. On my birthday, I wore my late sister's diamond cross necklace, not realizing what it was. At the family dinner, Luca walked up to me with a glass of red wine and threw the wine in my face. The red wine dripped down my cheeks, its sharp scent stinging my eyes and staining my white dress. He tilted his head back to look up at me, his eyes as cold and cruel as his father's. "Don't think you can replace my mom just because you married into the Falcone family," he said with a malicious grin. "You're the reason she's dead." "I wish you were the one who died. Then I could smash your gravestone instead of celebrating this stupid birthday." "I swear, when I grow up, the first thing I'll do is dump you in the Hudson River myself!" The memory stung as sharply as the wine, and all I could taste was despair. I stared at the child I had spent five years raising as my own, a sharp pain pulsing in my chest. I had thought I could devote myself to the Falcone family, that I could win him over with my love. But now, I was just so tired of it all. It was a family with no love, a child who saw me as his mortal enemy. I stopped deluding myself. It was time to let go. But after I left, that arrogant father and son came crawling back to me like whipped dogs, begging for my forgiveness.

In the third year after my death, my mother finally remembered me. But it wasn't out of longing—it was because my younger sister's leukemia had relapsed, and she urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. Clutching a donation agreement, my mother made her way to the basement I once lived in. She kicked open the door and was met with a floor slick with blood and scattered medicine bottles. "Cassidy, what game are you playing this time? Do you really think a self-inflicted act of suffering could fool me? Why are you so selfish? Why won't you save your own sister?" Her voice roared with anger, echoing through the space. From the crowd that had gathered to watch, a ragged little boy stepped forward. "Are you talking about Cassidy Porter? She… she died three years ago of organ failure… she vomited so much blood…"

Samantha "Sammy" Jacobs is a smart, witty, beautiful 22 year old struggling bartender in a small town in South Carolina, when a chance encounter one night brings about unfathomable wealth and opportunities to become the kind of humanitarian she could only dream of, but to get to that point she must encounter multiple hurdles along the way.

“It’s still her.” Three words. That was all it took for the carefully constructed world of my last five years to shatter into dust at my feet. Zane didn’t even have the decency to look away as he said it. For twenty years, I had been the third wheel. The reliable shadow to Jovienne’s brilliant sun. I had buried my own feelings for Zane so deep I almost forgot they existed, only daring to dig them up and confess them after Jovi had left the country and broken his heart. We built a life. A marriage. I truly believed, in my foolish, hopeful heart, that it was my happy ending. Now Jovienne was back, and the illusion was gone. The love of my life saw me only as a consolation prize. As my world collapses, the last person I expect comfort from is her husband—a man as cold and polished as he is powerful. Vance sees the same betrayal in my eyes that he sees in his wife's. Leaning in, his voice a dangerous whisper, he proposed the unthinkable: "They are living in the past. Let's be each other's revenge. What do you say, Nerissa?" I should avoid at all costs. It was a game that could burn our broken worlds to the ground. But as I looked into his eyes and saw the same raw, humiliating betrayal reflected back at me, the answer poised on my lips wasn't "no." It was a terrifying, thrilling question. “What,” I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt, “did you have in mind?”