Helm Trail Half Face

Dante and I have been married for three years. But he never knew my real name. We’d had countless arguments over the past three years—over the petty details of everyday life. I can no longer tolerate such a ridiculous life like a puppet today. Calliope, that’s what he called me, but it was actually my twin sister’s name. My husband may never know that the woman who married him three years ago was a substitute bride. Three years ago, my sister abandoned us and left before the wedding with her lover. To prevent the anger of the Laurent’s, my family had no choice but to let me marry Dante instead of my sister. My phone rang again and again, I finally picked it up. "Throwing another tantrum, are you? Calliope, tell me what you are capable to do if you can not even be merely a housewife?" I knew Calliope could always get her way through her sweet voice and innocent smiles. She can be an obedient and perfect wife—something I could never manage. "Dante. I’m not joking.” I didn't know if my voice sounded a little sad. "You can’t be serious—" For the first time, I heard a tremor in the man's words. He doesn't love me. He likes to be in control. When he realized that his puppet was losing control, he began to panic. It's time for this farce to end. I clenched my phone and spoke to the man on the other end in the calmest voice of my life. "Dante, let's get a divorce." But what shocked me more than hearing Dante's answer was the person who suddenly appeared in front of me. Calliope, my twin sister, who disappeared for the whole three years. “Are you crazy? Why on earth would you want a divorce? That's Dante Laurent, a billionaire heir, every woman's dream！” “Calliope? Our parents and I all thought you would never show up again. I entered this wrong marriage because of your escape. Dante... he’s not that a husband out of your dreams.” “Seraphina, put away your ridiculous niceness and compassion. I have returned this time to take back what is MINE and my place.” She lifted my hand with a sneer and removed the wedding ring from my finger.

A young lady, Lucia, was adopted by grandpa James when she was a teenager. She was taught to become the heiress of her foster family, but she had to hide her identity, from the public. Why? Hugh was assigned as Lucia's bodyguard, by grandpa James, but he hid his real identity from Lucia after he made a deal with grandpa James. He left his pack because of the promise he made to Licia, and also because he didn't want to become Alpha. What will happen when Lucia finds out about Hugh's identity? What will happen when Lucia's identity is revealed? What are the hidden dangers in their love story?

My husband, Noah Campbell, has only passed away for less than three months when my sister-in-law, Pamela Turner, starts urging me to move out. "It's not that I'm casting you out, Veronica. You see, Matthew wants to renovate your bedroom. I'm just worried that you might not have time to pack up your stuff when the time comes. "Besides, Noah is no longer around. It's inappropriate for you to continue living in an apartment that belongs to your in-laws, you know?" My mother-in-law pauses mid-bite, pretending she didn't hear a word Pamela said. Meanwhile, Matthew Campbell, Pamela's husband, continues munching on his food silently. Upon noticing that I never replied to her, Pamela adds, "Don't overthink it, Veronica. I don't want the outsiders gossiping about you, you know." Only then do I look up at her with a smile. "Thank you for your concern, Pamela. But I'm not scared of a bit of gossip." After all, I'm the owner of this apartment.

On Valentine's Day, my boyfriend invited me onto a cruise ship heading for the open sea. “Quinn, just endure it. The Godfather loves blonde, blue-eyed beauties like you. “Once you please him, all my gambling debts will be wiped clean!" At the auction, I was locked inside a golden cage. The starting bid was $3 million. Just as despair drove me to bite my tongue, the bulletproof glass of the most mysterious private box on the second floor exploded outward. The mafia godfather stepped through the shattered glass. Shards crunched beneath his feet, and smoke curled from the muzzle of his gun. He looked exactly like my ex-boyfriend from five years ago. Back then, he was a bodyguard I had once slapped in public and kicked to the curb like an abandoned dog. His eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my chin, smiling with an icy menace. "Sophia, you're not getting away this time."

Less than three months after my wife passed away, my sister-in-law started pressuring me to clear out my room. "Look, I'm not trying to kick you out, Graham. Donovan wants to renovate your bedroom. The sooner you pack up, the sooner we can start the work. Besides, you married into the family. Now that Arya is gone, it doesn't make sense for you to keep living with us." My mother-in-law paused mid-bite, pretending not to hear. Donovan Marlowe kept his head down, eating in silence. Seeing I did not respond, she continued, "Don't get me wrong. I'm just worried people will gossip about you." Only then did I look up at her, my tone calm. "Thanks for the concern, Sloane. But I'm not afraid of gossip." After all, the house was registered in my name.

Kehlani found out two things in one day; one, her soon to be husband was cheating on her, and second, that there was someone she looked so much like in this world and that same person was meant to get married but somehow, she was mistaken for that person. She ran away from a marriage, but ended up running into another one. Why does she have such a bad luck in choosing marriages?

On my eighteenth birthday, my brother Seth brought back my twin sister. She had been snatched from me by kidnappers as a child. She claimed she had nothing, not a single thing to call her own. Seth gave her everything: my room, my dresses, and my awards. He even gave her my childhood fiancé, forcing him to break off our engagement and marry her in a wedding that would take the world by storm. I tried to resist, but Seth scolded me for being childish. "She's your blood sister, yet you complain about every little thing. If you can't learn to be kind, I can't call you my sister anymore." My sister, Serena, fell into the swimming pool later that day and nearly drowned. When she woke up, she cried to our brother, claiming I had pushed her. My brother, Seth, was furious. He sent me away to a remote mountain village. "If you can't learn to be kind, you'll spend the rest of your life here, atoning for your sins. "You can come back only when you kneel before Serena and apologize." Five years passed. Serena and my fiancé held a high-profile engagement ceremony. The entire city celebrated their grand love, certain they would have a happily ever after together. Then, Seth finally remembered me. "Sylvie, five years have passed. Have you learned kindness yet?" I nodded calmly with a blank expression on my face. "Seth, I will kneel before her and apologize." He smiled, praising me for finally being sensible. However, he did not know that I had received a critical medical notice. I had only five days left to live.

Just a few days before my wedding, I accidentally come across a post while scrolling online. The title reads, "To the guy getting married in this city, your fiancée's already cheated on you." Curious, I click in to see the gossip, only to realize I'm the one being talked about. A deep male voice plays in the video. "I heard you're getting married?" The woman in the frame, bare-backed and trembling, chokes back a sob. "After you left, I realized you're still the one I love most. I'm done with him. Take me away, please!" The moment I hear her voice, it feels like someone punches me straight in the chest. Then I notice something on her wrist—the luxury couple's bracelet I gave her just yesterday. And in that instant, I feel like the biggest joke of all. Turns out the fool was me.

My name is Ivy Lawson. At 3:00 am, I get a call from Christina McSpire, a parent of one of my students. "Hello, Ms. Lawson, I noticed Zoe only spent five dollars on her meal yesterday. Did she not eat any meat?" she asks. Pushing through my exhaustion, I reply, "Don't worry, Mrs. Street. I'll check on it tomorrow." Another half hour goes by, and she calls again. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Can you remind Zoe to bring an umbrella?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. "Got it," I reply absentmindedly. A few minutes later, my phone rings once more. "Please make sure Zoe brushes her teeth for three minutes. It's also important that she scrubs each side of her face at least three times." Suppressing my frustration, I calmly respond, "Zoe is in her senior year of high school. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself." I expect that to be the end of it, but when I wake up, my silenced phone shows over a hundred missed calls.

Seven years after my death, an engagement invitation from my ex-girlfriend arrives at my house. Back then, I had broken up with her in my lowest, most desperate days and married someone else. Now, she has reinvented herself as a rising powerhouse worth hundreds of billions, driven by revenge and eager to see me regret everything and beg for mercy. Unfortunately for her, I am not the one who shows up. She looks around in open contempt, convinced my absence means guilt, shame, and fear. When I finally appear, all she sees is an urn.