Hercules 10th Labor

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

"Your husband is so wild in bed!" On the eve of my childbirth, I received a provocative video from my husband's mistress, flaunting their affair.In the video, my supposedly loyal husband, Max Jennings, and his mistress were entangled in a hotel bed, exchanging dirty talk and engaging in various sexual positions.The shock of it all triggered premature labor, resulting in a stillbirth that left me utterly devastated.Max, consumed by guilt, fell to his knees before me, tears streaming down his face. Desperately, he begged for my forgiveness. Little did he know, I had already uncovered all his schemes - the secret transfer of his assets, the signing of substantial life insurance policies, and the true cause of our baby's tragic demise.I clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably, like a typical housewife shattered by her husband's betrayal.But in the depths of my heart, a grim thought emerged: "Max, since you won't agree to a divorce, it seems that becoming a widow is my only way out."During this tumultuous period in my life, I met Luke Walker.The people in our town describe Luke as an angel who has fallen to Earth—an honorable and composed beacon of light. Yet, somehow, he took an interest in me—a woman scorned and deemed hopeless after a failed second marriage.No one understands the truth. It was Luke who relentlessly pursued me, drawing me deeper into a complex relationship!

On the tenth year of being bonded to my mate, Alpha Lucian Blackwood finally returns to my side. He no longer calls out his puphood sweetheart, Sadie Marrock's name in his sleep. He no longer forces me to shift into my wolf form and go hunting right after my labor just because Sadie wants to drink deer blood. Even my son, Conan Blackwood, who's always disliked me, begins to kiss up to me by nuzzling against my leg. The entire pack is flying with rumors of the Alpha finally realizing what he actually wants. They think I'll be the happiest Luna ever. I thought I'd be happy as well. That is, until Lucian rejects Sadie's call for help and chooses to stay at home with me. After that, he pins me down and tries to kiss me on my lips. This is the first time in ten years Lucian wants to be intimate with me, but I instinctively tilt my head and avoid his kiss. Then, I push him away coldly. All traces of happiness vanish instantly. Angered by my behavior, Lucian roars, "Weren't you jealous of Sadie over the past ten years because of how well I treated her? Well, I'm only good to you now! What more do you want from me?"

My father was the don of the Moretti family and the godfather ruling the entire mafia empire. My mother was the head of the Carter family and the chairwoman of Carter Multinational Corporation. They selected two fiances for me. One was Damian, the globally renowned CEO of Aegis Corporation. The other was Caesar, a formidable figure who controlled the entire underground arms trade. On the day of my twentieth birthday banquet, the one I chose to marry would become the godfather ruling the entire mafia empire. Everyone was shocked when I chose Caesar without hesitation. I had loved Damian deeply since childhood and once swore to only marry him. But little did they know I had regressed from the future. In the past, I married Damian as I wished. However, on our wedding night, he had an affair with my maid. Later, my family found out and dismissed the maid. They chased her out of the house. Damian resented me for it. After I became pregnant, he brought different women home every night and slept with them right in front of me. Even on the day I struggled through a difficult labor, he diverted all medical resources away. Ignoring my pleas, he caused me and my unborn child to suffer and die in agony. Having returned to the past, I decided to grant him his freedom. Without thinking twice, I chose my other fiance, Caesar. But I never expected that Damian was also reborn...

When His Majesty King Dominic Thornfield was attacked, my husband, Roland Wentworth, Commander of the Royal Guard, was busy placating his first love, Vivian Sinclair, who had stormed off in a fit of anger. I did not light the signal flare in my hand. Instead, I used my heavily pregnant body as a human shield to protect the King and help him escape. In my past life, I had lit that flare. Roland abandoned Vivian to rush back and save the King. He was rewarded for his loyal service by being made a Duke Protector. However, Vivian fell into a trap and died on the spot. On the surface, Roland said nothing. Yet, on the very day I went into labor, he threw me into the Beast Dungeon. My face twisted in agony as I demanded to know why. Roland merely glanced at me coldly and said, "His Majesty had plenty of guards around him, so why did it have to be me who came back? You must have done it on purpose, only caring about power and wealth. If you hadn't lit that flare, Vivian wouldn't have died. Whatever suffering Vivian endured, I'll make you pay it back tenfold!" In the end, I was torn apart and devoured by the beasts. Even the child in my womb was consumed completely. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the King was attacked.

I came back to life the day Cedric Gramont got drugged. This time? I didn't offer my body to him. I called his so-called soulmate instead. In my last life, I stupidly fell for the uncle who wasn't blood-related. When I found out he'd been hit with something strong, I ignored his plea to call Elyna Humbert—and "helped" him myself. A month later, I was pregnant. He had to marry me. On our wedding day, Elyna, who'd gone abroad to "clear her head," got kidnapped and killed. Before she died, she called Cedric 199 times, begging for help. He didn't pick up once. Too busy sealing the deal with me. Later, he just stared at those missed calls, not saying a word. Then the day I went into labor, he locked me in the basement. I begged him to take me to the hospital. He just smiled, cold and empty, and watched me die screaming, the baby still inside me. Last thing I heard? "If you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have married you. I wouldn't have missed Elyna's calls. You deserved to die." When I opened my eyes again, it was that same day—Cedric was drugged, but this time, I knew better.

My grandfather, Terry Sims, suffered from bipolar disorder and was prone to anger and mood swings. My mother, Catherine, was his only chill pill. On the day they were hunted down by enemies, my mom went into early labor and lost her life in an attempt to save him. Devastated, my grandfather could not see a way out of his disorder and poured all his love into me. He would pull out the tongues of those who mocked me and fed them to the dogs. The families of those who hurt me would meet their end. It was known to the people of Mistvale that the granddaughter of Terry Sims was untouchable. Due to my congenital heart disease, he reluctantly sent me abroad for medical treatment. After my surgery, I rushed back to his side for his birthday, thinking of giving him a surprise. However, I was mistaken for a gold digger by a carer and locked in the basement. “Of all the things you can do for your age, you throw yourself at men. Since your parents won’t restrain your behavior, I’ll have to do it for them.” She pulled out my tongue, dumped acid all over me, and dug out my snewly transplanted heart to give as a birthday gift to my grandfather, who had been waiting for my return. “Mr. Sims, the skank tried to impersonate Ms. Sims, but I got everything sorted out for you.”

Katherine Nolan, my husband's first love, was drugged while studying abroad. When she returns to the country, she is pregnant, just like me. On the day I suffer a massive hemorrhage during labor, my husband, Gabriel Donovan, shows up with Katherine to force me into a divorce. "Kate comes from a highly educated family, and her reputation means everything. If anyone finds out that she's carrying another man's child, it will destroy her. I have to be the father of her baby. Let's get a divorce," he said. In my previous life, I refused to divorce him and even exposed the truth. Katherine's image as an educated and independent woman collapsed. She became the target of public scorn and accusations of fraud. Heavily pregnant, she went to a bar to drink herself numb, but someone took advantage of her afterward. It led to a miscarriage and massive blood loss. She died despite emergency treatment. Gabriel held a funeral for her and offered me a sincere apology. Three months later, I was hit by a car sent by him and left disabled. He even threw our six-month-old son, Adrian Donovan, into a dog cage and left him to be mauled by wild dogs. Only then did I realize that he had long wanted to kill both me and our son. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very day he brought Katherine to pressure me into a divorce.

I went into labor. And my mate, Alpha Alistair, locked me in a silver cage. The bars throbbed with curse runes, burning my skin. He did it for Livia. His dead brother's mate. Her pup had to be born first. That's when I learned the truth. He'd been poisoning me for months. All to make sure Livia's child would be the next Alpha. He called it "calming tea." A daily dose of poison to slow my pup's growth and delay my labor. But my body had other plans. My pup refused to wait. I went into labor at the same time as Livia. When he found out, he accused me of faking it. Of begging for sympathy. He let them poison me with wolfsbane. I lost my pup. A piece of my soul died with him. With my last breath, I reached out. To the one person who could save me. My brother, Alpha King Lucian. He came like a storm of rage. He burned the packhouse to the ground, with me inside. A phantom fire for all to see. Then, he plucked me from the flames. Only then, surrounded by the smoking ruins of his pack, did Alistair fall to his knees. His howl of regret tore through the night. For 99 days, he howled at the moon. Begging the Moon Goddess to return just a sliver of my soul.