Hot Summer

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.

I was scrolling through reddit when I came across a post seeking advice. The poster said he had HIV but was hiding it from his fiancée. The post had tens of thousands of likes. Intrigued, I clicked to read more. As I went through the details, I realized—why did his description of the fiancée sound so much like me?

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood sweetheart called, claiming a burst pipe at her home. Without a second thought, he ditched our celebration to play handyman. Moments later, Vivian Duffy's social media lit up with a smug post. [No matter when or where, my Superman arrives at one call. How should I reward him?] Accompanying the post was a photo of scattered condoms and torn clothing on the floor. I forced a smile, picked up my phone, and dialed a number. "My pipe is broken. Care to fix it?"

He is the unchallenged Alpha of the Shadow pack. He crushes my hand, lets his true love drive me to the brink, and forces me to lick wolfsbane from my wounds in the punishment chamber, turning me into the pack's laughingstock. I am the Lunar pack's pawn in a political bonding. After enduring three years of humiliation and clutching enemy intelligence, I overturn his throne during the Moon Ceremony, making him watch helplessly as his beloved betrays him and his pack descends into chaos. Later, he backs down. He abdicates as Alpha and gets down on his knees at the pack's border every day, his voice hoarse from shouting, "I was wrong." I hold a blood-stained dagger, my gaze icy as I say, "Your regret is deadlier than wolfsbane and worth even less than my life." Our bonding is a calculated trap, and revenge is the move I am determined to play. Winning him back no longer matters. This time, I am not turning back. I want nothing but his endless remorse and the chance to break my chains and begin a new life.

Noah is forced to marry April. He does the deed and then leaves her in the country with her sick father never touching her virgin body. Once her old man dies there isn’t anything holding him to the marriage. But before he files for the divorce Noah finds out the April is the woman he had sex with weeks before and the night had been hot. Maybe the best sex of his life. But she hadn't felt the same leaving him a note for him saying she didn't need a repeat. Now he would do everything to prove to her that his bed is where she belongs and his life.

Timothy Holt was someone my family sponsored. He was extraordinarily gifted in mathematics, winning an international gold medal at just 17. Yet for the prom queen's sake, he was willing to give up his chance to further his studies abroad I couldn't bear to watch someone with such a brilliant future ruin his own prospects, so I handed the girl a check and sent her overseas. Later, Timothy achieved both fame and fortune. However, when my family fell into hardship, he kicked us while we were down. An accident followed, and we both died. Before his death, he said to me: if he could start over, he hoped I would show mercy and stop interfering in his life. Thus, just as he wished, in this lifetime, I chose to stay out of his business.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

I'm seven months pregnant when my husband's close female friend, Suzy Ruffalo, invited us to a beach party. The sun is blazing, so I stay tucked under a parasol, quietly scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, Suzy wanders over and swings herself onto my husband's lap. "Hurry up and put the sunscreen on me! Don't just put it on my chest this time. I don't want to wake up tomorrow with my boobs two shades lighter." For a moment, I wonder if I've heard her wrong. My husband, Ted Cohen, casually picks up the sunscreen and starts rubbing it on her chest without hesitation. "Your boobs are tiny to begin with. I'm helping you to make it fairer so that it looks bigger." Suzy slaps his shoulder in annoyance. "How's that your business? You said my bikini area was darker the previous time." The rest of the guys started whistling. When Ted rubs the sunscreen just below her navel, he subconsciously glances at me. However, Suzy grabs his hand and shoves it lower. "Don't worry, Nina. He's touched this area so many times he's immune by now. It's just sunscreen. There's no need to get jealous over this, yeah?" I snort and look away to book a time for the divorce agreement. I will not be jealous, but they're both going to be on the receiving end of my slaps.

On New Year's Eve, my husband, Max Davis, took me to a private dinner hosted by a big industry player. We had barely made our way around the room when a strange woman suddenly shoved me into the pool. When I insisted on checking the surveillance footage and calling the police, Max firmly held me back. He warned me to "remember my place" and not embarrass him in front of everyone. In the brief time I changed into another gown, I returned to find that same woman perched on my husband's lap, her red lipstick leaving traces on his collar. "Max, you're right! That nasty scar on her stomach really does look like a centipede. It's so hideous!" She giggled with mock innocence, adding, "It's been so fun messing with your wife. Next time, can I slap her when no one's looking?" Meanwhile, Max gazed at her like she was the only woman in the world, gently tracing his finger over her nose. "Of course, you can," he replied, eyes still locked on hers. "I'll even tie her hands behind her back for you."

I'm at the supermarket when an old woman I don't know suddenly grips my hand tightly. I instinctively shield my baby bump, but she says, "Someone has placed a swap spell on you. The dead baby is about to be transferred to your body soon." I think she's a liar, but she says, "Hurry up and try to make yourself vomit. You should try to throw up as much of that fish you just ate as you can."