He Tasted His Own Medicine

My best friend is bound to a trade system—she can force a swap with me three times. At 13, she takes my heart. At 18, she takes my SAT scores. And now, for the final swap, she wants my entire identity. I hide under the covers, unable to hold back a laugh. My villa is rented, and my family background is totally fake. Go ahead, bestie. Swap away! This time, I really hope you don't hold back.

“Is trusting you a sin?” Hannah asked. “It wouldn't have been a sin if you were nothing but sand under my feet. You’ve always had it all—the grades, the charm, the spotlight. Teachers adored you. Boys wanted you. Even James, the only one I ever looked at like that, fell for you despite your boring look.” Her best friend’s laugh was dry. Cruel. Hannah’s heart squeezed, her breath catching in her throat. “You think you’ve won?” she said, voice shaking. “Because you slept with my husband and fed him lies?” “I don’t think, Hannah. I won.” “You didn’t win. You settled. You crawled into my leftovers and tried to wear my skin like it would turn you into something better—but it didn’t.” --- On her first wedding anniversary, Hannah Reyes was drugged—by her husband and her best friend. The betrayal shattered her world, and cost her the one thing she was holding onto: her unborn child. The next day, still lying in a hospital bed, her husband handed her divorce papers... then ordered her thrown out. Lost, bleeding, and alone, she was hit by a car. But fate wasn’t done with her yet. The driver? Matthew DeLacruz—her husband’s former friend, now bitter enemy, and a man he once scammed. And Matthew made her an offer she couldn’t ignore: "Be my vice president, and I’ll help you destroy him." What began as revenge turned into something else, something thrilling, empowering, and dangerously beautiful. And just when she thought she had nothing left to lose, Matthew made her a different offer: Marriage. Now Hannah must ask herself: Can she truly trust again? Or will this new beginning become just another ending?

I had loved once—softly, foolishly—and the world had repaid me with betrayal, humiliation, and blood in the dirt. So I buried that girl. I returned home a weapon. A Blood Moon heir carved from ice and vengeance, bound by an arranged marriage to the most dangerous man on the continent—a man who had already ruined me in the dark and left me with nothing but a scar and a memory that refused to die. He didn’t recognize me. But I recognized him. And I remembered everything. The way he touched me. The way he claimed me. The way he discarded me. My mate. My mistake. My ruin. Now we stood on opposite sides of a throne built on lies, power, and war. He wanted his mate. I wanted destruction. And if he ever discovered the truth—that the obedient, untouchable princess he was meant to marry was the same “Omega” he had used and abandoned— then the bond between us wouldn’t save him. It would destroy us both.

My daughter accidentally scratched my husband's young mistress's face with her nails. For that, my husband had her fingers chopped off. Covered in blood, she came home seeking help, only to be assaulted by an intruder. I called my husband, crying, but his mistress's sweet voice answered the phone. "Stop using these lowly tricks to get Jack's attention. All you're doing is making him sick!" I begged my husband to take my call, but all I got in return was a barrage of insults. "Nothing is more important than Yvonne's face! I'm busy taking her to the hospital! I don't have time for your drama!" Later, my daughter's organs were removed by the intruder. Even in death, she was still tightly holding onto the birthday gift she had prepared for her father. My husband, a top lawyer, personally defended the criminal who assaulted our daughter. He let that man walk away scot-free after what he had done. On the day he celebrated his birthday with all our relatives, he finally knew that our daughter had died. He completely lost his mind.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

I’m a new grad human in huge debt, and cheated by my Omega bf. When I got wasted in a bar, I didn’t expect to have the best sex ever. And the very next morning, I also didn’t expect to wake up and find my ONS hookup was my bf's Alpha billionaire BOSS…. How things are going to turn out after I accidentally became his 5yo daughter's live-in nanny?____________How did this happen? How did I wind up finally becoming employed, only for it to turn out that my new employer was the same person who I had a one night stand with just two nights ago?“I didn’t know that you would be the employer. If I had known, I wouldn’t have applied….”“It’s alright. I knew it was you when I hired you. I did it on purpose.” I scrunched my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

That night, Liam served me my usual evening tea. I trusted him completely—he was my mate, after all, and a respected healer of Thornpack. I shouldn't have. When I woke up the next morning, my head was spinning. The special safe where I kept the morphing inhibitor—the one I'd spent my entire savings to import from Europe for our daughter Isla—was empty. Racing to the healing center, I found Liam celebrating. He was handing out moon-blessed wine, beaming with pride as Natalie's daughter Anna showed off her perfect transformation. My inhibitor had been used on his first love's pup instead of our own daughter. The shock triggered something in my brain. When I collapsed, they diagnosed me with the rare tumor that plagued our kind. Without inhibitors, I couldn't stop Isla's transformation that came early, her six year old body couldn't handle the massive wolf form and the force ripped through her young body. And I, for one, don't even have enough money to keep her in a treatment center. She died in my arms three days later, her little claws drawing blood as the pain overwhelmed her. Until her last breath, she kept asking why Papa hadn't come. Now, in my cold, empty home, with the white porcelain urn containing her ashes on the table, I touch her and decide to sever our partnership.

My daughter has leukemia and desperately needs a bone marrow donor. After a blood test, it turns out my blood type doesn't match hers. However, my husband's blood type does. This confuses me. I gave birth to her, so how could my blood type not be a match for hers? I'm puzzled by this when my long-lost best friend suddenly appears with her son, who's about my daughter's age. She wants him to do a blood test to see whether it matches my daughter's.