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Our expedition team ventured into a desert wilderness to investigate rare mineral resources when we were suddenly struck by extreme heat that reached 158 °F. I nearly passed out from dehydration and quickly reached into my backpack for the electrolyte water I had prepared in advance. Just as I was about to drink it, I realized the bottle was half-filled with urine. When I turned around, I saw Ben Murphy, my wife’s childhood friend, gulping down my electrolyte water. As I was about to confront him, Amy Garner, my wife, grabbed my sleeve and said, “Don’t be mad. I gave Ben your electrolyte water. He’s almost dehydrated. You can make do with this for now.” My vision started to blur. Clutching the half-empty bottle of urine, I asked through gritted teeth, “I’m dehydrated. Instead of letting me rehydrate properly, you want me to drink this? Are you trying to kill me?” Amy was upset. “Don’t be ridiculous! Ben doesn’t work out daily like you do. He can’t handle this heat. Wasn’t it right to give him the electrolyte water? Besides, urine can hydrate you, too! Don’t be picky at a time like this.” Seeing how unreasonable she was being, I sent a distress signal with my location just before losing consciousness. [Severely dehydrated, near death. Expedition mission suspended. Request immediate rescue. Also reporting a robber in the team. Notify the police immediately.]

Five years ago, I became the wife of Cesare Fontana, the most powerful mafia don in Navarino. However, he didn't make our relationship public. Cesare has always been cold and unfeeling toward everyone. I assumed that's just the way he is. One day, I get to see the way he interacts with Sonia Moretti, his childhood friend. When I see the bright smile on his face and notice the attentive care he shows her, I finally realize that there is someone in this world whom he treats with gentleness and warmth. Alas, I'm not the lucky woman. I hand over the divorce papers. Cesare remains as impassive as ever. He signs the paperwork without even knowing that it will mark the end of our marriage. When he finally finds out that I've left, weirdly enough, he immediately panics. He does everything in his power to find me and bring me back. By then, I've already left the country. I make my way to a country beyond his reach and carve out a fulfilling life for myself. Cesare becomes the one who pines for me instead.

On my daughter’s birthday, I showed up at her after-school program unannounced to surprise her. When I mentioned to the instructor that I was Maddie’s parent, she furrowed her brows. “Are you saying that you’re Maddie’s mother?” I nodded, feeling a little displeased. Though her father, Matthew Rowe handled the drop-offs and pick-ups, the instructor had no business giving me an attitude. Nevertheless, the instructor promised to bring Maddie out right away with a huge grin. As she turned away, I decided not to make a big fuss out of the matter. The next minute, the instructor emerged with two burly men. “That’s her! She’s here to abduct one of the kids!”

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching. The new teacher was so panicked that she was crying herself, her voice trembling. "The parent of the other child is in the office. They said they're willing to compensate any amount, but... But there's no way you can make their son apologize." My anger surged as I kicked open the office door. However, I instantly froze in place. In the office, my husband, Arlo Payton, who was supposed to be in Swizor for a year of intensive studies, was holding up the bully. The next second, the little boy in his arms pointed at Anna and laughed. "Look, Dad. Clownface is here!"

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

After my girlfriend's father hit someone with a car, he took his own life because he didn't want to get arrested. But in doing so, he left behind a huge debt he had racked up. In order to help my girlfriend pay off the compensation, I work around the clock as a food deliveryman. Every day, I sleep less than four hours just to squeeze in more work. But when I finish delivering a new order, I notice a man clad in a bathrobe standing in front of me at a hotel suite's doorway. He's completely covered in hickeys. A young woman dressed in a sexy nightgown hugs him from behind. "I'm absolutely famished right now because of how long you've been tormenting me in bed earlier, darling! Hurry up and grab the takeout!" I can only stare at the woman, completely shell-shocked. That's when the bag of takeout slips off my fingers and crashes onto the floor. The woman takes a step backward. Her brows drawn into a frown, she exclaims, "How are my boyfriend and I supposed to enjoy the food now that it's all dirty?" After that, she kicks the takeout at me right away, spilling grease all over my clothes. I remain rooted to the spot, still stunned. This woman… is Irene Swensen, my girlfriend who's about to get engaged to me.

At the parent-teacher conference, Emery Carey's essay, My CEO Mom, won first place, earning thunderous applause from the class. But the mood soured when my daughter ran to me in tears, her cheeks marked with red handprints. "Emery hit me again. He said I don't belong in his class and spat in my face." I scooped her up and marched to the teacher to demand answers. The teacher brushed it off. "It's just kids' horseplay. Don't blow it out of proportion. Emery's mother is the CEO of Mills Group. Get the picture and pull your kid out. Don't affect the mood." I froze, shocked by the absurdity. Then I dialed my lawyer. "Prepare the divorce agreement. Olivia is leaving with nothing." She'd been using my money to fund her lover and his son. That betrayal would not go unpunished.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

My wolf awakened on my eighteenth birthday. Soon after, the Feral Curse tore through the werewolf world. The curse nearly claimed me, but a young Alpha, Lachlan, saved my life. He brought me to his pack. His parents, the Alpha and Luna, took me in. They gave me the best room in the pack house and treated me like the daughter they never had. Lachlan never left my side. He risked catching the curse himself, patiently feeding me potions one sip at a time. His wolf knew. I was his fated mate. I was the envy of the pack. I had an Alpha's total devotion. Then one day, Lachlan knelt before me. In his hands was the Moonstone necklace—the symbol of every Luna who came before me. He held me tight, whispering a promise to show the world that I belonged to him, and him alone. I accepted the necklace. But that night, I twisted his love into a poison. A poison I used to murder his parents and eighteen of their loyal retainers.

A whirl wind romance Between a conglomerate CEO and a porn star desperate to experience a different life than the cruel one she is a captive of...