He Didn't The Answer For That Question

On New Year's Eve, I returned home. At the welcome party, my boyfriend, Grayson Caldwell, suddenly appeared, holding a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring, dropping to one knee. "Although this proposal comes a full three years late, our love will never be late," he said. "Alexa, marry me!" Friends cheered from the sidelines, all expecting me to nod through tears and say yes. But they had forgotten that three years ago, on New Year's Eve, he had promised to propose. That night, I dressed to the nines and waited until dawn—but he never showed up. Instead, there was only a cold phone call. "Tanya is sick. I'm busy taking care of her. You'll have to wait a little longer for the proposal." And so, on New Year's Day, I left the country alone, bound by a family-arranged marriage. I had already married someone else three years ago.

After I reunited with my real family, I somehow became a copycat who got on my father's nerves. The fake heir, Duncan Weaver, studied abroad at a top university. So I got into grad school after studying for just three months. When Duncan came back to start a business, I built a leading men's clothing brand in the industry within a year. When Duncan made the news for volunteering in rural schools, I donated millions of dollars and ended up making bigger headlines. They couldn't stand it. But they couldn't beat me either. Then one day, right after Duncan publicly announced his engagement, I posted my own wedding announcement the very next day. My biological father, who hadn't contacted me in three years, immediately called. He ordered me to take down my wedding photos. "You copying Duncan in everything was already bad enough," he snapped. "Now you're even trying to steal his fiancée? What the hell are you thinking?" On the other end of the call, I could hear Duncan crying. "Dad, don't say that," he said between sobs. "I asked Chelsea. She doesn't even know Leo. "That wedding photo he posted is fake. He edited it just to piss me off." Who was Chelsea? Since when did the woman I had grown up with for 18 years at the orphanage become someone else's fiancée? Then Duncan sent over his own wedding photo. What a funny coincidence. The woman in the photo looked exactly like my fiancée.

The casino my husband and I ran was about to go through a chaotic police raid. Anyone who got caught would likely end up arrested. We had the time to leave. But we couldn’t all leave. One of us had to stay behind, or the cops would keep chasing us. Elias, my charming husband, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Mireille and left me to handle the cops, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll send a lawyer to you.” Lucky for me, I managed to walk away without any consequences. And then, I saw, Elias, the man who was supposed to have my back, not only did escape without me, he also whisked Mireille away to some fancy resort, like they were on vacation. He looked so carefree, so unbothered. Not a hint of concern for the wife he’d just abandoned. “Think Seraphina’s gonna be mad that we left without her?” Mireille asked, all innocence. Elias laughed, that cold, detached laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Please. As if she’d ever get mad at me. She can handle herself.” He didn’t care. But you know what? Neither do I. Not anymore.

The night before our wedding, Desmond Arlington got jumped out of nowhere. By the time I made it to the hospital, he stared at me like I was a total stranger. Doctor said it was memory loss—some brain rattle from the hit. Temporary, supposedly. So I went full nostalgia tour, dragging him back to all our spots, hoping something would click. Then one day at the hospital, I caught him running his mouth with his buddy. "Rhea's trying so hard. Doesn't that do anything for you?" "Do what? I'm over it. Same spots, same girl. The new ones are way more fun." "So why marry her? Just call it off and live your life." He snapped, "Shut up. I LOVE Rhea. I'd never bail on the wedding. I'm just... pushing it back a bit." I looked down at the test results—zero issues. Everything normal. And that's when it hit me: you can't help a faker.

I loved Killian Joe for ten years. I married him when he was nothing—fought for him, covered his mistakes, and built his empire beside him. But he repaid me with betrayal: a mistress, a child, and silence when I begged him to choose me. Now he wants me to stay. But I didn’t walk away to be begged. I walked away to win. I’m not the girl who cried behind closed doors anymore. I’m the woman who owns the building. And the man I once loved? He’ll have to watch me become the thing he fears most— Untouchable.

To save Hugh, I took the hit—literally. The kidnappers beat me so bad I ended up with a brain hemorrhage. My mind? Stuck at thirteen. Hugh, all guilt and promises, said, "Wenna, I'll protect you forever." And he did. He watched over me. When the house caught fire, he threw himself over me, took the burns, didn't flinch. Then came his oh-so-perfect foster sister. "Mia's not into... slow people. Maybe you should live next door," he said. And my son? The one I nearly died bringing into the world? "Stupid woman! You embarrass me and Dad. You're nothing like Aunt Mia—she's smart and pretty. If it weren't for you, she could've been my mom. You should just die!" To play hero for Mia, my son shoved me into the street. A truck did the rest. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugh proposed. This time? I wasn't here for his pity. And I sure as hell wasn't marrying him.

On my wedding day, Ethan Westbrook's ex-girlfriend sent word that she was terminally ill. Her dying wish was to wear a wedding dress once in her life. Ethan locked me in the waiting room while he prepared to hold the ceremony with her instead of me to fulfill this wish. I heard his impatient voice through the door as he said to me, "Can't you show some compassion? She's dying. What's wrong with granting her one final wish?" Later, the guy next door who had carried a torch for me for years climbed to the rooftop and begged me to marry him. Ethan stared at me with bloodshot eyes. "Are you really going to throw away our seven-year relationship just for him?" I brushed his hand away. "Should I just let him die? It's only a marriage certificate. Where's your compassion now?"

The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, Vincent Castellano celebrated like a man who had been handed heaven. Fireworks over Brooklyn. Vows whispered against my stomach. Promises that his empire, his loyalty, and his life were mine. That same day, I found out the hospital built in my name had been sheltering his affair. While I was throwing up and fighting to keep our babies safe, he was holding another woman in the next room. So I made my choice. I would keep the twins. But Vincent Castellano would lose all three of us.

People feared him. They trembled at the mention of his name. They didn't dare to look at his face, because his eyes were cold enough to make one wish for death. He was Alejandro. The cruelest Lycan King in the entire world. He earned the menacing title after slaughtering his entire family by himself. And she? She was a gentle, naive young lady, who was framed, rejected by her mate, betrayed by her own family, and then banished from the very pack she was conceived of, and grew up on, throughout her existence. She lived a miserable life working in a hotel as a cleaner and living in a cramped one room. That was until she crossed paths with him in an accident, causing a dangerous spark to envelope at first sight, and the reawakening of the wolf she never knew she had. What happens when the bored and cruel Lycan King everyone fears takes interest in her, because of the one vow he swore never to break? And that was, cherishing his mate no matter his cold nature, because he despised being like his father, who hurt his wife {his mother} until she died.

Her marriage is sexless, cold, and full of humiliation. She stays in the suck marriage to collect her billionaire husband's money for build her own business, and plan her freedom. While he rides his mistress in their bed many times, she quietly turns his wealth into her weapon. Years later, the wife everyone mocked becomes the world's first female trillionaire. When her bankrupt ex-husband kneels before her, willing to lick her dirt just to have her back, she smiles from her bathtub filled with money and says, "Ex-husband, I'm going to marry the second richest man in the world."