Hermione Granger Death

On the day I return to the pack once again, my future mate, Kellan Cohen, throws a fancy banquet for me. My younger sister, Lia Smith, asks me loudly while holding a champagne flute, "Ella, I heard that you were exiled to the wilderness where the lowly inbreds roamed instead of patrolling the borders. Is that true?" Everyone gasps in surprise upon hearing Lia's question. Kellan shoots Lia a glare immediately. If this were to happen a year ago, I would've taught Lia a lesson right there and then. But instead of getting mad at her, I even take off the bracelet, which is a family heirloom, and put it onto her wrist just to thank her for showing her "concern" toward me. Not only that, but I also bring up the fact that I want Lia to replace me as a candidate to host the next day's offering ceremony with Kellan. Mom is happy to see me behaving like this. As she pats me on the head, she says, "It seems that Ella finally has learned how to play nice." But Kellan just stares at me with mixed emotions swirling in his eyes. "Didn't you claim that you'd rather die than hand over the position to Lia?" I just sigh quietly on the inside. He's right, but the truth is, I'm about to die.

On my son, Nicholas Grafton's birthday, I've gone to great lengths to prepare a delicious carnivorous feast and a beautiful pendant meant for protection. But that's when I overhear Nicholas speaking with my Alpha mate, Tobias Grafton. "Daddy, I've already promised Aunt Whitney that I'd go to the amusement park with her on my birthday. But Mommy insists on celebrating my birthday with us. "What should I do? I want to celebrate my birthday with Aunt Whitney more, but Mommy doesn't like her at all. This makes me very troubled…" I freeze on the spot. At the same time, my face goes pale. Soon, I receive a mind-link message from Tobias. "I have something to do tomorrow, so lunch is now canceled." The next day, I head over to the amusement park, as though my sixth sense was leading me there. As expected, I spot Tobias and the others. Nicholas can be seen sitting on Tobias' shoulders while shrieking excitedly at the top of his lungs. Whitney Lockwood, my half-sister, shields Nicholas protectively the whole time. The three of them look so close, like they are the actual family here. Tobias' head is lowered at all times, his gentle gaze constantly fixed on Whitney's face. As I stare at them from my spot, I let go of everything related to them all of a sudden. After looking down at the diagnosis report that shows the confirmation of late-stage silver poisoning, I turn in an application to dissolve my mate bond with Tobias without hesitation. Now, I no longer want anything to do with Tobias and Nicholas anymore.

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."

Cleo Carrington used to be Northvale's brightest spark—wild, fearless, impossible to pin down. And then she married Damian Joubert. The most controlled, rigid heir in their world. Damian ran like a machine. Perfect standards. Zero slack. And he expected the same from his wife. Cleo loved noise—clubs, music, bodies moving. He had every venue in the city blacklist her. She loved freedom—the blazing Afriyan sun, the northern lights in Icelorn. She raced cars. She jumped out of planes. He took her passport. Shut it all down.

My husband's adopted sister invited me out to dinner, and while we were eating, disaster struck—a violent earthquake shook the ground beneath us. My husband, a firefighter, rushed to the scene as quickly as he could. But fate had a cruel plan for us. We were trapped beneath a massive boulder, unable to move, and the rescuers could only save one of us. He made his choice. He chose her—the adopted sister who had always been frail and sickly—over me, his wife, who was five months pregnant with his child. I begged him, pleaded with him to save me. But he turned his back on me. The boulder pressed harder, and I felt the sickening crack of my arm breaking. He didn't even flinch. "Alice has always been weak," he said coldly. "If I leave her here, she'll die." But when I died, he lost his mind.

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?

I am the woman who stays the longest by the side of mafia Don Jasper Shaw. I believe I hold a unique place in his heart. But when his beloved Rosie Hurley suffers violation and falls pregnant, everything changes. Accused of orchestrating Rosie's downfall, I become the venomous villain in their eyes. To shield Rosie from gossip, Jasper publicly claims her unborn child as his own. Meanwhile, I am branded a depraved woman, defiled and discarded. Desperate, I reveal my own pregnancy to Jasper, pleading for our child’s future. He dismisses it as a ploy for attention. When I confront him, his words cut deep. "This is the sin you must atone for. Rosie has always been raised like a princess, and she can't endure the whispers—not like you." For the first time, I realize I am nothing to Jasper but a tool for his desires. Rosie locks me in a cramped cellar, where I suffocate and die. My body lies undiscovered for a month. When Jasper receives the call to identify my corpse, he brushes it off, prioritizing Rosie's prenatal checkup. "Amara's lies are piling up. So what if she's dead? Cremate her and then talk to me." My body enters the furnace and is reduced to a handful of ashes. Later, the mighty Jasper Shaw kneels and sobs uncontrollably. He begs for just one glimpse of me.

My wife, Caroline Bailey, was a forensic pathologist. For her first love, Ian Lawson, she was willing to break every rule she held sacred and allowed him into the autopsy room to observe. She even let him throw acid onto a corpse's face. That was, until Caroline took on a new case. As she stood over the disfigured body on her operating table, she began to fall apart. The acid-burned face was starting to look more and more like mine.

In my past life, my husband brought our daughter, who was down with a cold, to his father's hospital so she could see a doctor. Later, she was pronounced dead. When I hurried to the hospital after hearing the news, he'd already transferred her organs to his true love's son's body. It was later that I learned my father-in-law was the one who extracted my daughter's organs when her vitals were perfectly fine. I was heartbroken and devastated. I wanted my husband and his family to give me an explanation for this, but he and his parents killed me by poisoning. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the moment my husband has just taken my daughter away.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.