How Do I Delete My Prodigy Account Novels & Stories

The day I dissolved the mate bond, I called my childhood friend to pick me up. I had a bank card with barely any balance left, my phone, and the same clothes I had worn the day I moved into this house. That was everything I owned after all those years living in the pack. My mate, Derek Anderson, called to say I had left a few things behind. "Forget it. Just throw them away." He seemed reluctant to give up. "Your son keeps saying he wants to see you." I dragged my suitcase behind me and walked away without looking back. "Tell him he'll have a new mom soon. The one he's always wanted." Like father, like son. They even fell for the same woman. In the past, I would have asked myself, 'Why won't they even look at me? I've given them so much.' Now, I felt nothing. If they didn't love me, then so be it. I would let them go and let myself go in the process too. My childhood best friend, Eric Keaton, helped me with my luggage and opened the door of his Maybach. I said one last thing to my mate. "I won't ever disturb you and your son again." After a long time, he found me. He grabbed my arm like a madman and stared at me in despair. "Leah Sullivan, why don't you care about us anymore?"

I was the pack's chief healer and my mate was just an ordinary warrior. Everyone thought we were not a good match, but I didn't mind. I accepted his proposal without hesitation. But on my mating ceremony, my mate's ex-girlfriend Serena suddenly came in with a little boy. The little boy hugged Marcus' legs and called him daddy. I thought it was some kind of scam. But when Marcus saw the child's mother, his face went pale. Then he showed an expression I'd never seen before—pure adoration—as he scooped the boy into his arms. "Let's cancel our mating ceremony. I need to mark Serena first and raise the child with her. Don't worry. Even though I'm marking Serena, my heart belongs to you." He thought I loved him so much that I chose to be his second mate. He didn't expect that I would just calmly contact my childhood friend Alpha Dominic. "My mating ceremony is all set up, but I'm missing a male lead. Would you be willing to come mark me?"

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

My younger sister, Mindy Sampson, has a rare blood condition. She needs regular blood transfusions and a bone marrow transplant. My husband, Ian Huffman, and I are matches. My mother says we should draw lots. Whoever draws the short stick will become Mindy's blood donor. In the next five years, I am always the one who draws the short stick. Because of constant blood draws and bone marrow extractions, my body breaks down. Before I die, I stumble upon Ian holding Mindy and saying, "Cindy is so stupid. There are only short sticks in the container. Every time, we let her draw first. How could she ever get a long one? "She is going to die without ever knowing you are not sick at all. Once she dies and we get the insurance money, we can travel the world." When I open my eyes again, I am back in the fifth year after Mindy is diagnosed. I look at the container of sticks on the table and smile. Then, I look at Ian and say, "This time, you draw first."

In my past life, my marriage was ruined by a so-called “male best friend.” On our wedding anniversary, he taunted me in front of everyone. “Javier is one lucky guy. Last night I noticed Sophie’s bust has gotten even fuller. It’s so smooth and supple.” Sophie Santos completely disregarded my dignity. She laughed and said they were just close friends who even showered together. I punched him. The very next day, I handed her the divorce papers. She accused me of overreacting and forced me to kneel and apologize to him. I stormed out in anger. However, I never expected the bridge we were overseeing to suddenly collapse. It caused massive casualties. In the end, I was sent to prison for ten years. On visiting day, he actually showed up too. “Thanks a lot, Javier. You signed off on the project. So naturally you’re the one who’s going to serve time.” I glared at him with bloodshot eyes. He leaned close to the microphone. His voice was as soft as a venomous snake flickering its tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything sorted out in there… just take your time suffering.” Three months later, I was beaten to death by a prison bully on the cold concrete floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the anniversary. At that moment, my female best friend kicked the door open and straddled my crotch. “Don’t mind me, Sophie. We grew up naked together. “I know his… measurements from every stage of his life.”

To seize more territory, the ancestors of the Black Moon Pack desecrated the Moon Goddess's altar. For their crime, a deadly curse was woven into their bloodline: no male wolf of their pack lives past the full moon of his thirtieth year. The only cure is to mark a she-wolf with the blood of the Moon Goddess, using her song to suppress the rage that boils in their blood. In my last life, I was that cure. I was married to their Alpha, Corbin. He marked me before the entire pack, binding us as mates. But once the threat of death was gone, he had me thrown into an asylum. "I never believed in that Moon Goddess blood crap. If the pack hadn't forced me to marry you, Faye never would have run off and married that Beta from the neighboring pack. Now she's broken mate bond, and I'm going to make her my Luna, no matter what. As for you, go to hell." Then he shattered our bond, whispered to the guards, and walked away. I was locked in a silver cage, tortured day after day with injections of silver poison. On the day of Corbin and Faye's mating ceremony, the guards gave me a fatal dose. A fiery agony tore through me. My body convulsed, and then… endless darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back at my own marking ceremony. This time, I'm going to watch. And I'm going to see if Corbin can survive his thirtieth birthday without my blood.

My mother-in-law needed blood when she fell down the stairs and suffered major blood loss. The doctors were worried that the blood bank did not have enough of her blood type, so I called Rebecca Chilton on the phone to get her to hurry to the hospital to help her mother. Fortunately, she arrived on time, and my mother-in-law was saved and was no longer in danger. Before I could relax, I found out another piece of bad news. When Rebecca was not by his side, her severely depressed crush jumped off the building. It happened not long after she left for the hospital. Rebecca was filled with regret and blamed me for everything, so she pushed me off the building as well. When I opened my eyes again, I found out I had been reborn. This time, I decided to respect her choice, but she ended up regretting it instead.

I froze to death alone in the endless snow, my wolf core brutally crushed by Kalen Blackrock—the fated Alpha I’d given my entire life, my loyalty, my heart to. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. It was the exact day he’d planned to publicly reject me, the day that broke my past life before it even began. This time, I didn’t wait for his cruelty. I smiled, ripped our sacred mate bond to shreds before he could utter a single word, and said flatly, “I don’t want you anymore, Kalen Blackrock.” He’s the most powerful Alpha alive, feared by every pack across the werewolf world. But the moment I turned and walked away, he broke. He groveled, he begged, he laid his entire kingdom at my feet, desperate to earn back the love he’d thrown away. But it’s too late. I’ve found my true destiny: I am the Moon Goddess’s chosen heir, the only one who can save our dying world. I was never meant to be his Luna. I was born to be their Queen.

One year had gone by since my husband got married to me. I went back to the company for a celebration party. I'd just taken my seat when a woman with a Cartier ring around her finger splashed a glass of red wine in my face. "That's the chairman's seat, you slut! Who are you? How dare you take his seat!" The guests surrounded me and grabbed my hands and feet. Someone even kicked me down to the ground. I held my fury back. "I'm the chairman's wife! Matthew Grayson is my husband!" The woman yanked my hair and sneered at me. "So, you're the bitch he's forced to marry. He's already generous enough, letting you marry him. You live on his money, and now you're trying to steal his place and be the boss. I know sluts like you know no shame! Guards, throw her out!" I laughed mirthlessly. The man who leeched off me thought he could call the shots now. Still, I kept my fury in check and called his number. "Hello, Matthew. Did you tell everyone I lived on your money and that you're the boss of the company?"

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.