Novel & Cerita Grandpas Never Died Lyrics

She died begging her mate to save her. Now her spirit is tethered to the Alpha who let her down. Elizabeth Campbell was the Luna of the Blackthorn Pack—until betrayal, lies, and a deadly mistake stole her life. Now trapped between worlds, she watches as her mate comforts the woman she was blamed for hurting. They think Liz ran away. They don’t know she’s dead. And they have no idea… She’s still watching.

On Valentine’s Day, I discovered that my brother’s fiancee, Erika Gibson, was cheating on him. So, I tried to tell my brother, Nathan Clinton, about it. However, he yelled at me. He said that I was trying to ruin his relationship and told me to leave. Erika then asked her lover to deal with me, so he kidnapped me. He mocked me for being unable to speak and forced me to sell 200 roses at the night market. I asked Nathan for help, but he replied impatiently. [Moon, I can’t believe you’d lie about something like this… I don’t have time for your games.] I was accidentally hit by a truck while Nathan was having a wonderful time with Erika. Haha. I was finally free, but I wished I had a different brother.

I had been married to Matthew Zackman for 20 years, taken care of my bedridden mother-in-law for ten years, and supported him as he transformed from a rural teacher to a well-known professor. Everyone called me a model of a virtuous wife and a great contributor to the Zackman family. When my mother-in-law was on her deathbed, she held my hand and said that she still wanted me to be her daughter-in-law in her next life. Matthew had held me in his arms and said gratefully, "Jamie, you've worked so hard all these years. I'll make it up to you in the future." I thought the hard times were finally over, but my mother-in-law had just passed away when he handed me a divorce agreement and embraced my best friend, who had grown up with me. He said, "Jamie Lingsworth, I've endured this marriage for 20 years and am finally free. Rosie is the one I've loved all along." I left the marriage empty-handed and was forced to wander the streets until a car accident ended my life. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the day of my blind date 20 years ago. The matchmaker was enthusiastically praising Matthew, "This young man is a diamond in the rough! He's kind and filial. Whoever marries him is one lucky woman!" I looked at the polite and sincere-looking man across from me and smiled. Then, I threw the matchmaking document in my hand into the trash can. "Sorry, I don't think we're a good match."

After years of heartbreak and loneliness, Amara has convinced herself that love is not meant for her. Growing up surrounded by loss and disappointment, she builds walls around her heart and focuses only on surviving each day. When she moves to a new city hoping to start over, fate leads her to Daniel, a quiet but kind man who sees through the pain she tries so hard to hide. Their connection begins as friendship, but slowly Daniel shows Amara something she has never truly felt before—a love that is patient, genuine, and healing. But the past refuses to stay buried. Old wounds, secrets, and fear threaten to pull them apart. Amara must decide whether to keep running from love or finally believe that she deserves it. As their lives intertwine, she begins to understand a powerful truth: sometimes love arrives when you least expect it—and when it does, it reminds you that no matter how broken you feel, you are never truly alone.

I was pregnant and due any day. Austin Revelstone, my husband, had a sugar baby named Tawny Sully. Each time they renewed their arrangement, money came into my mother’s special care account. One day, he stayed a little longer to talk to me. Because of it, he was one minute late for his date with Tawny. Tawny was upset. She threw a tantrum and threatened to terminate their agreement. She would only stay if I aborted my baby. So, Austin slid the abortion form and a check for three million dollars across the table to me. “Please, just sign it. We can always have another kid. If Tawny cries anymore, she’ll get wrinkles.” He looked calm and unbothered. It was as if he were just talking about the weather. I raised my head and looked at him in disbelief. I trembled for a long time. Then, I finally signed my name on the abortion form. I wiped my tears and gave the check back to him. I made one additional request. “Let’s make that fake divorce certificate real this time.” I no longer needed his financial support for my mother’s surgery.

Mom and Aunt Denise Taylor fell off the balcony in the midst of their heated argument. Dad rushed in just as they hit the ground, each with a broken arm. Without hesitation, he left Mom behind and hurriedly took Denise to the hospital instead. Later, Mom filed for divorce. Dad's face twisted in anger as he yelled, "Enough, Nicole! So what if you broke an arm and can't hold a scalpel anymore? What's the big deal? Dee is a genius designer. If she had lost her hand, her life would've been over! Of course, I had to save her first!" Watching all this in my ghostly state, I couldn't help but laugh. Did Dad really think that Mom had only lost the use of her hand? Mom didn't just lose her hand. She lost me. After all, I had severe heart failure, and the only person who could perform the life-saving surgery was Mom, the medical master herself. But none of that matters now, because I'm already gone.

I died the day my husband forced the doctors to take our baby from my womb. I thought I’d never love again after losing my ex-boyfriend to a heart attack. But fate gave me a second chance. I married the man I adored, a billionaire named Maxwell. Just when I was about to share the joyful news of my pregnancy, I caught him getting cozy with my best friend, Morgana. Worse, he believed her lies: I was a drug addict. The truth? I was battling a severe mental illness triggered by my ex’s death. I needed medication to cope, but Maxwell never cared to understand. He refused to believe a word I said. They locked me away in a private rehab clinic. But that place wasn’t for healing, it was a trap. Morgana used it to cut me off from Maxwell and torment me without consequence. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse… Maxwell signed off on a surgery to take my baby. I lay on that cold operating table, tears streaming down my face, and died in the fire that followed—broken, betrayed, and alone. But I never expected to wake up again. This time, I have a new life. A new family. And even one of my children survived. Maxwell, Morgana—this time, I’m coming back. And you’re both going to pay.

At his Alpha succession ceremony, Damien seated his childhood sweetheart in the Luna's chair, then dropped a mate bond severance agreement in front of me. “Once the bond's dissolved, I'll give you money. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. One condition: stay away from Serena.” I signed without hesitation but I didn't take a cent. “Don't worry. I'll disappear from your lives for good.” That night I went home, took out the silver knife I'd already prepared, and dragged it across my wrist. Twenty-five years ago I'd crossed into this world of werewolves. For twenty-five years I'd worked to win over three protagonists, and every last attempt had failed. The Moon Goddess had told me: once this body died, I could go home, back to my parents. I lay on the cold floor and waited for the end. As my mind went hazy, I felt no fear, only a strange, giddy relief. And right as I was slipping away, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

Five years after I mated to Alpha Derek Blackwood, his childhood sweetheart broke her mate bond with another Alpha and returned to our pack. Even worse, I had depleted my life force saving Derek when he was mortally wounded, and now I was dying. In the less than six months I had left to live, I continued to play the role of Derek's good mate. Until I passed away. And Derek, after reading the journal I left behind, completely fell apart.

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”