His Wedding, My Funeral

To make up for past regrets with his first love, my husband, Pierce Ronan, lied that he could see everyone’s lifespan. He told me I had sixty years left, but his first love, Jessica Stone, had only seven days to live. So, for those seven days, he said he had to fulfill the promises of their youth. He brought her home, cared for her, and when they went back to their old college campus to relive their love, I didn’t protest. When he confessed his love to her and planned the wedding of the century, asking me to be the bridesmaid, I didn’t raise my voice. It wasn’t until he wanted to break the final taboo — in our marital bedroom — that he looked at me with guilt in his eyes and begged me to move out. The housemaids watched, snickering behind their hands, but I only smiled and nodded in agreement. I packed my bags, carried our child, and moved into the guest room next door. Seeing how obedient I remained, Pierce was touched. “I promise, this will be the last time I wrong you. Once Jessica passes, I’ll make it up to you.” What he didn’t know was that I had already seen through his lies. What he also didn’t know was that the one truly dying of cancer, the one with only seven days left to live, was me. Three days remained. Then, I would be gone.

When I was ten years old, both my parents passed away. My sister, Brianna, and I only had each other left. We were tormented at the orphanage before the Larsons adopted us. They doted on Brianna and me, and even allowed their daughter, Vivian Larson, to get engaged to me when I was 20 years old. It was a wonderful tale of love. Vivian didn't let any of us down. She would have given me the moon if she could, and she loved me with all her heart. During the ten years we spent with the Larsons, Brianna and I led a good life and never suffered at all. The night before we got married, Vivian took out a treasured bottle of vintage wine. It was to be served at our wedding. However, I poisoned the wine and killed everyone in the Larson family, including my own sister.

After my family went bankrupt, I begged my fiancé Ryan to pump cash into our business. He didn't just refuse. He turned around and got engaged to someone else. When I was at the end of my rope, Ethan Brooks stepped up, tossing all his savings into my family's mess. Sadly, we missed our shot, and our company crashed. My parents couldn't handle it. They jumped off a building. Even so, I was thankful to Ethan and married him to pay him back. Three years later, at Lily Carter's birthday party, I overheard her talking to him. "You tanked the Harper family so I could win that bid. Won't Kelly blame you?" "For you, I'd give up everything. I'll just make it up to her." My blood ran cold as I realized our marriage was all a lie. The one he loved was Lily all along. I turned and left. If he was that hooked, I'd set him free.

There was a time when Nyla believed that walking down the aisle with Clark, after being together since their university years, would be the happiest moment of her life. It was only when Clark cheated on her that she realized true love and growing old together were rare. More often than not, relationships ended in separation and loss. After their divorce, she swore she would never give her heart away again. But, Damon—Clark’s youngest uncle—barged into Nyla’s life and gave her no chance to escape. She kept trying to distance herself, not wanting any more ties with her ex’s family. Damon, however, pursued her relentlessly, determined to have her in his arms. "Uncle Damon, we're not right for each other." Damon gently pinched Nyla’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You and Clark are divorced. How am I still your uncle? "Besides, how do you know we’re not right for each other when you haven't tried?" "I’ve tried," Nyla replied. "Then try again," Damon said. "Keep trying until it feels right." Nyla was at a loss for words.

At my engagement party, Flora—my adopted sister—grinned and said, "Warren's never been married, right? I should marry him first so he gets the hang of it. Sounds good?" Everyone was just waiting for me to fall apart. I didn't care about them. I cared about him. Warren laughed. "Let her have fun, Mia. Don't kill the vibe." I smiled. "Sure. But if it's about fun... one wedding won't cut it. "If you're gonna get married, make it forever."

My husband, the hospital director, stole my kidney to save his beloved first love, who suffered from uremia. While I was under anesthesia for heart surgery, he stormed into the operating room without permission and ordered the removal of one of my kidneys. I begged him to stop, explaining that my heart condition was critical and that I could not survive back-to-back major surgeries. He only sneered at me, his voice dripping with disdain. “I knew you’d be jealous of Cece and make pathetic excuses. That’s exactly why I chose this moment.” Ignoring my desperate pleas, he took my kidney and walked away. In the end, I suffered multiple post-surgery complications and died miserably on the operating table.

Before my wedding, my fiance's secretary dumped out all the Dom Perignon champagne I had ordered for the guests and replaced it with Yoo-hoo. I turned grim instantly and demanded an explanation. But my fiance—who had always claimed to dote on me—stood firmly in front of his secretary to defend her. "Susie only had your best interest. Don't ruin the mood for everyone." His pack of so-called friends burst into laughter, egging him on. "Come on, don't be petty, Giselle. It's just a few bottles of Dom Perignon. Don't be so selfish." Yet their eyes were enveloped in evident malicious amusement. At that moment, one thing became certain: this fiance had to be replaced.

In my last life, my sister Cora and I were married to twin Alpha Heirs. Our union was meant to forge an empire. I married the older brother, Aiden. He became the Alpha, and I, his Luna. I dedicated my life to the pack's glory. Cora married the younger brother, Rhys. After Aiden defeated him for the Alpha title, Rhys became a monster. Twisted and cruel, he tortured Cora daily until his own mysterious death. After Rhys died, Cora was discovered to be pregnant. Everyone thought it was Rhys's last heir. The day she gave birth, Cora bled out and died. And I… I never gave Aiden the strong heir he craved. So, we raised Cora's child. I gave him everything. It wasn't until Aiden was on his deathbed that I heard him tell the boy the truth: “Your mother Cora’s death was Elena’s fault! All her kindness to you was a lie!” “You are my son. My flesh and blood with Cora. Your so-called father, Rhys… his weak blood could never have created a powerful Alpha like you.” “My son, after I die, you must avenge your true mother.” The herbs in my hand crashed to the floor. The boy I raised stormed out. Then he used his immense Alpha power to choke my life. But the Moon Goddess showed me mercy. She gave me a second chance. When I opened my eyes, I was back. This time, I would shatter this sham of a marriage with my own hands. But I never expected that this time, something about Aiden would be… different.

He was never meant to be mine. It began with my mother's marriage to the Alpha. Overnight I acquired a bag, a new house, and a stepbrother I couldn't resist. cold eyes. Commanding physical presence. Dangerous in ways I had still to grasp. I reassured myself it was innocent. One crush. Intuitiveness. I then went into my first class and encountered my instructor. The same man. My alpha stepbrother. Guidelines became indistinct. Bounds broke open. After hours, I was in his office; my heart was pounding beneath the tables; seduction was buzzing in the air. Originally a wild wager—something exciting and foolish—turned into stolen moments and charged silences that communicated more than words ever could. I missed the game ending. I never realised when desire evolved into need. Or the man I adored was when the Alpha I was not permitted to desire. Bound to the one man who could destroy me—or claim me—I am now stuck between pack rules and my own heart. Falling for my alpha stepbrother was never intended. I also have no idea what could ever move me away.

My husband, once a powerful CEO, had become bankrupt and sank into depression. Overnight, I went from being the wife of a CEO to a lowly worker. To help him pay off his debts and cover the costs of his depression treatment, I took a job as a hostess at an auction house. However, I never expected to see my husband there, who should've been in the hospital undergoing therapy, sitting in the VIP section. Without any hesitation, he bid on an exorbitantly priced necklace and gave it to the woman beside him. That necklace—the one I had pawned to pay off his debts—was my grandmother's heirloom.