Happy In Iron Man

After three years of living with my wife’s family, everyone thought they could treat me like a pushover. Me? I’m just waiting for her to hold my hand before I can give her the world.

Just one week before my marking ceremony with Lucien, I discovered his heart already belonged to someone else. His secretary, Anika, walked out of his office with a smirk that was a little too knowing. Her blouse was askew, her usually neat hair a tangled mess, and only the faintest trace of her crimson lipstick remained. My heart seized in my chest, and my fingers went cold on the doorknob. Two years ago, she had been a timid girl fresh from the countryside. All that pretense of innocence had vanished, replaced by a brazen ambition written across her face. Her relentless eagerness around Lucien had always grated on my nerves, and I had asked him more than once. "Lucien, can't you replace her?" His smile would always fade. "Anika saved my life," he'd say. "I can't be so heartless." Now, that single triumphant smirk was all it took for me to understand. What others once envied in me had already been trampled beneath her heels. My phone vibrated. It was a new proposal from the event planner. [The marking ceremony plan is nearly perfect. Can we finalize it?] I refused to be consumed by sorrow. I wiped a tear from my cheek and made one last adjustment to the document.——Replaced the bride's name withAnika I didn't want a false love, or a fake Alpha Lucien. Let them have the marking ceremony. Let Anika stand at his side as his Luna, his chosen mate. In seven days, I would be gone with my pup.

At our anniversary party, the rose-covered arch suddenly gave way, crashing down in a storm of shattered glass and scattered petals. Raya and I were both knocked to the floor beneath the wreckage. I braced myself on my elbows, a sharp pain twisting deep in my abdomen, and looked up, straight into Asher’s icy stare. “Never thought your jealousy ran so deep. You actually tried to hurt Raya.” His voice was calm, but it sent a chill down my spine. “I didn’t touch her…” I muttered, panic rising as I hurriedly shoved the pregnancy test report beneath the pocket. But his eyes only grew colder. “Taking my indulgence as a license to do whatever you want?” His voice dropped, every word sharp as ice. “Elyssa, maybe it’s time I put you back in line. “Otherwise, you’ll never be worthy to stand by my side as this pack’s Luna.”

I was reborn. Opening my eyes on the sofa, the television flickered before me, broadcasting another financial news segment about my husband, Jasper Brolin. The Alpha of the Moonblood pack, a man who had sat at the top of the billionaire list for years, was speaking with his usual cool authority. Broad-shouldered and sharp-featured, he carried an air of cold command that made him untouchable. Whenever he stepped into the public eye, the crowd surged with screams and breathless admiration. My marriage to him was the envy of our entire circle, and every woman wished to step into my shoes. As I watched the screen, memories of my tragic death in my last life came rushing back, sending a quiet ache through my chest. My wolf rumbled low in my chest. "So we're back. Now what?" "Break the bond," I whispered. "I'm leaving him." "He'll never agree to that." "That's why I need her help," I replied, thinking of the woman I had always disliked—Halle. Halle walked into the café, a smug smirk was plastered on her face. Having grown up alongside Jasper, she was regarded as his inner circle, and people never failed to give her the highest courtesy. I slid a mate-bond dissolution document across the table. "I need your help, Halle. And of course, there's something in it for you too." She glanced through the papers, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Are you leaving him?" she asked. My voice was calm, "Maybe you're the one he really wants by his side." In my last life, I was the perfect Mrs. Brolin, envied by all, yet never the one he held closest. This time, I would take my unborn pup and leave quietly.

My father found me too rebellious, so he gave me to Marco, tasking him with making a lady out of me. To the outside world, Macro was the ruthless boss to a Mafia empire, but to me, he was just a man with a perpetually stern face. I tried everything to defy him. I smashed his car. Then I swapped his PPT for the lowbrow stand-up he hated most. And he opened it during a company meeting. Yet, every rebellion ended the same. He cornered me, his massive frame dominating mine on the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the polished oak of his desk, or the leather confines of the car's backseat. His hot skin against mine, his fingers tracing fire along my curves. He moved with a primal hunger that left me breathless. My body arched in unwilling ecstasy, in a dance of punishing pleasure, until my fight dissolved into moans, my will shattered under his relentless claim. I fell for him hard, convinced this was love, and he was the beacon of my dark world. But the truth shattered me: it was all a calculated game to tame me, to stop my war with my sister Karen. My guiding light went out, or maybe it never existed at all. So I became a good girl. I stopped fighting back. He thought he had me tamed, chained to his will. But in the end, I slipped free, leaving him alone with his shattered heart.

On my wedding day, my fiancé bailed. Sabina—his ex—had sent him a diary listing 77 things she'd done for him. Turns out she only dumped him because his family pushed her to. So, he ran back to her. While I was still reeling, Jacob—my fiancé's best friend—showed up. He got down on one knee, flashed a ring he'd clearly had ready, and said, "Yuna Auclair, I've liked you for a long time. Will you marry me?" I thought he was my person. But after the wedding, Jacob turned distant. Hot one second, ice-cold the next. Then I found a diary in his study. Just like the one Sabina had sent my ex. Page one hit like a truck: [Hurt Yuna Auclair seventy-seven times, and I'll break up with Gabriel and be with you.] Oh—and Gabriel? He was my ex.

Kaze Lee just married the woman of his life, Darcy Quint, but on the night of their wedding, his family sent him to fight in a war on behalf of his brother. Forced to leave his wife alone, he fought many brutal battles and won many of them, ultimately winning the war. He returned with glory and honor, but his wicked brother poisoned him because of jealousy, turning him into a retard. Fortunately, an intimate session with his wife cured him. Never forgetting the oppression of his family and the insults he received from the world, he ought to take revenge on those who hurt him and his wife now that he had awakened.

Divorced and remarried—I've lost count of how many times Aaron and I stepped in and out of marriage. He once treated me like something precious, but less than a year after our wedding, he asked for our first divorce. The reason was simple, Vivian was coming back. "Vivian's a public figure," he told me. "I don't want anyone thinking she's involved with a married man." That third-tier actress had nothing but her father's sacrifice to her name. He had taken a bullet for Aaron—a life for a life. And because of that, Aaron believed he owed her everything. Every time Vivian returned to the country, Aaron divorced me. And every time she left, we remarried. The first time we split, I drowned my tears in whiskey and stumbled back to his house half-drunk. The lights inside were warm. He was with her. And I stood outside, shivering through the night. The second time, I tracked his every move—restaurants, auctions, charity galas—just to "accidentally" run into him again. Later, I learned better. The moment he mentioned divorce, I would quietly pack my suitcase and disappear from his mansion. My love and humiliation kept me trapped in that endless cycle of breaking up and coming back together. But this time, when Aaron waited for me at City Hall to remarry, I never showed up.

My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants. Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax. My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture. Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead." What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

The moment I tasted blood in my mouth, I knew it wasn't mine. It was hers. Again. They said I was weak. An omega. A wife. A shadow. But I burned everything they gave me—and walked away. Now, years later, I am back. Not as his mate. Not as his Luna. But as someone stronger. Someone he can’t control. He looks at me with those green eyes like I’m still his. But he gave me away. To her. Sienna smiles like a queen. But behind those lips, I smell lies. And death. They want me close. They think I’ll break. But I didn’t rise from ashes to fall again. This time, I’m not running. I’m hunting. And they won’t see me coming.