His Love For Me Came Too Late

Bethany Cole and Shane Stafford were supposed to get married in two weeks, but Shane was thinking about postponing the wedding again. It was all because his stepsister, Yelena White, had another episode and was crying for him to drop everything and take her to Maldivea to see the ocean. The wedding had been planned for two years, and Bethany had had enough. If Shane did not want to get married, she would find someone else to take his place.

My cousin, Kaylee Langford, pushes me down the ski slope when there's an avalanche. My boyfriend, Atlas Ferguson, lifts her into his arms and leaves. He seems to have forgotten that I'm buried underneath the snow mountain. He leaves me stranded at the valley for seven days. He's furious when he finds me. "You should be glad nothing went wrong with Kaylee's arms. Otherwise, the only way you could atone would be to die on this mountain! Our wedding is canceled—we'll have it once you realize what you did wrong." He thinks I'll cry or kick up a fuss, but I merely nod and say, "Okay." He doesn't know that I've made a deal with the Moon Goddess. In six days, I'll be giving up the things that mean most to me—my love for Atlas and my memories of him. Once that happens, I'll forget everything about him and start afresh somewhere new. What does a wedding matter when the Ember Sloane who loved him is now dead?

My husband, Henry Luther, never loved me.He's always loved my younger sister instead.I chose to step aside and fulfill their love.But no one believed my sincere sacrifice..."Are you trying to act pitiful again?" Henry stared at me with a hostile look in his eyes.

My boyfriend passed away from illness. Before he died, he asked me to look after his only younger brother—Callum Ressler. I put Callum through college, and helped him build his company from the ground up. Then one night, after a round of drinking at some work function, he ended up in bed with me. While I wrestled with what we were to each other, I noticed something on his office desk: a photo of me, framed neatly beside an engagement ring. My heart stirred. I pushed open the lounge door, ready to finally talk about us. But just as the door creaked open, a white camisole fell at my feet. I froze. Callum pulled the covers tightly around a shocked female assistant. "Diana, ever heard of knocking?" he snapped. Face pale, limbs suddenly uncoordinated, I started backing out. But the assistant's timid voice stopped me. "Diana… could you hand me my clothes?" I ignored the hostility behind her eyes, grabbed the garment, tossed it onto the bed, and left in a hurry. Once I stepped outside the company building, Callum called. "Diana, you should really stop barging into my room like that." I laughed and agreed. From that moment on, I never stepped into his world again.

Three years ago, my childhood sweetheart, Eleanor Carter, left me at the altar to marry Dillan Perez—the adopted son of my family. The church erupted in whispers. I became the laughingstock in a single breath. Then Victoria Brown—the aloof, formidable CEO of the Brown Group—stepped forward. "I'll marry you, Lambert," she said, her voice cutting through the wreckage of my pride. I said yes. For three years, she was the perfect wife. Gentle. Attentive. She was my salvation. But there was one thing that always hung between us like a quiet ache—we never had a child. The doctors found nothing wrong with either of us. Victoria would just smile softly and say, "It will happen when the time is right." Today, I came home early. The door to our bedroom was slightly open. I heard her voice. She was on the phone with her best friend. I didn't mean to listen. But then I heard my name. "Lambert wants a child with me," she said. "But he doesn't know I've been on birth control the whole time. That's why we never got pregnant." My blood turned cold. "As long as he has no heir," she continued, "Dillan's place in the Clark family stays secure." I stood there, frozen. My hands went cold. My heart shattered into pieces. I was just a tool to protect the man she truly cared for. I didn’t confront her. Instead, I calmly planned my death—a quiet disappearance from her world.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

While my husband, Gerald Brown, was abroad negotiating a business deal, he was drugged and spent the night with a female secretary from a rival company. The drug’s side effects scrambled his memory so badly that he forgot who I was. He kicked me out of the master bedroom and let the secretary smash my grandmother’s heirloom. I told myself he was sick and stayed silently by his side. But when I suggested taking him for a medical checkup, he hit me for the first time. “Who do you think you are? Only Ailey is allowed to touch me. If she gets jealous, you’ll regret it.” When the secretary framed me, he pushed me down the stairs, and I suffered a miscarriage. Late one night, when my heart condition flared up, I went to his study for medicine but overheard him talking to his friend outside the door. “Faking amnesia to bring Ailey home is one thing, but why replace your wife’s heart medication? Now, she’ll never return to the hospital for surgery.” Gerald just chuckled. “If I don’t keep her weak, she’ll go to the hospital and check the hospital records and find out I was never drugged. Ailey’s been timid since childhood and even went undercover for me in a rival company. I can’t betray her.”

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

My husband, Tyler Stone, has been dead for seven years. One day, he suddenly comes back to life. Not only does he bring another woman home with him, but he even wants me to give up my position as his wife. "Ruth almost lost her eyes saving me, and I've promised to marry her. Sign the divorce agreement, and I won't kick you out of the house." I'm briefly silent before saying, "I've actually married someone else." He rolls his eyes. "As if. Everyone knows you're desperately in love with me!"

For five years, Elara loved Nathaniel Blackwood unconditionally. For three of those years, she was his wife, gentle, loyal, and invisible. He never loved her back. Cold, distant, and married only for convenience, Nathaniel always kept his heart reserved for one woman – his first love, the “white moonlight” he could never forget. When she returns, Elara is pushed aside without hesitation, when Nathaniel humiliates her in front of his first love and peers. While Nathaniel stands firmly by his first love, Elara finally walks away. What no one knows is that she leaves carrying his child. Disappearing without a word, she also sheds the identity of a powerless wife and awakens the truth she had hidden all along, she is the secret heiress of a powerful family, someone even the Blackwoods cannot afford to offend. When Nathaniel finally realizes what he has lost, regret drives him to his knees. But the woman he once ignored looks at him with cold indifference and says only one thing: “Too late, ex-husband. You lost me the moment you chose her.”