I Mostly Blame Myself Dora Novels & Stories

Two months before the public ceremony Lorenzo had promised would finally acknowledge me as his wife, he announced online that he was getting married. Everyone congratulated me. After seven years at his side, after I had helped him stabilize the Vassari family, crush three rebellions, and win enough votes to become the next Don, everyone assumed I was finally going to be his wife. So did I. Until I stopped outside a private room and heard his friends laughing. “Lorenzo, your Donna selection list is insane. Twelve women, one ring, and you score them every month?” Someone whistled. “Right now, it’s down to Serena and that little nightclub girl you keep in your penthouse, isn’t it?” “What if you don’t marry Serena after all this?” another man asked. “She gave you seven years. She might lose her mind.” Lorenzo laughed lazily. “Whoever performs best becomes my wife. Fair rule.” The room exploded with laughter. “Come on, you’re obviously favoring your little mistress. Serena can’t win if you keep giving that girl perfect scores.” Lorenzo’s voice turned playful, almost amused. “I gave Serena the chance. If she still loses, she can only blame herself.” I stood outside the door, my heart going cold. After a long silence, I took out my phone and called my father. “Dad, I agree to come home.” “I’ll accept the marriage alliance arranged by the Commission.”

Two winter seasons. That is exactly how long my wolf has been bound to the most dominant, manipulative alpha male in the Raven Hollow Pack Settlement. Kenny Liu knows exactly how to handle my body. He knows the precise way to reel my inner wolf back in with heavy fur blankets, strong fire-whiskey, and a primal, explicit touch under the stars that leaves me completely breathless. But the second the winter sun rises over the pack lands, the alpha mind games start right back up. My best friend Thorne Matthews warns me that alphas only lie when they are trying to keep their partners compliant. I want to believe our sacred bond is real, but Kenny keeps ghosting our connection, disappearing into the Shadowfang Wilds to run the dangerous rogue pack trade network. He tells me to stay out of alpha business. He says his wolf has too much on his plate dealing with the grand assembly elders. But my wolf is completely tired of being left in the dark while he plays with my raw emotions. In a world where pack resources mean survival and power dictates who commands the territory, can a young wolf survive the toxic, possessive grip of a street-hardened alpha? Or will the secrets hidden within the Stevens Alpha Dominion tear our bond apart for good?

When the results were released, my stepbrother, Dylan Anderson, conspired with our class teacher and accused me of cheating. When they presented the two examination papers with the exact steps written out, I was rendered speechless. My biological parents forced me to admit that I cheated to protect Dylan’s reputation. Then, they forcefully sent me to a mental asylum. To cover up the scandal, the Anderson family told everyone that I had gone insane. They left me to suffer alone. I finally escaped, but died tragically in a car accident facilitated by Dylan. When I died, I finally learned that the phrase “blood was thicker than water” held no truth. It was no match to Dylan’s lies. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the past. I was in the examination hall again. I handed in four blank examination papers. I wanted to see how they could accuse me of cheating if I scored zero on all papers.

“Until yesterday, you hated my guts…” I forced out as Moore leaned in. The sturdy man grinned and undressed me with his eyes, “Because until yesterday, you were just a scrawny psychologist who wouldn’t stop blabbering, now, you’re my wife,” ————————- After she is disowned by her family, Amber lands her dream job as a psychologist but things take a drastic turn when she realizes that her job is to marry and stop Alexander Moore — A grumpy bitter billionaire grieving over the loss of his wife from following in her footsteps… She’s used to the drama, the strain, it’s her job, but she’s not ready to fall in love with a man who is all shades of red flags, but it’s a good thing she LOVES the color red

During the tenth year I had a crush on Ron, I was diagnosed with advanced stomach cancer. With a critically ill notice in hand, I stood at the door to the room where my former classmates gathered, and I heard Ron holding his crush and cooing at her, “Just ignore it. Willow has been bothering me for ten years. If there was even a possibility of us getting together, we would have done so a long time ago. Honestly, I would never like her. Even if she continues bothering me for another ten or twenty years, I still won’t like her.” My former classmates cheered, and Ron looked like he was about to kiss her. I stood at the door and cried so hard that I trembled, but I did not dare make a sound. Ron, I would not be able to bother you for another twenty years. I was about to die.

All I wanted was to see my grandmother one last time. I booked the earliest flight out. I got to the airport early. I did everything right. It still wasn’t enough. At the gate, the agent barely looked at me before deciding I didn’t belong. One glance at my worn clothes, and I was already dismissed. “Flight’s overbooked. You’ve been moved.” Just like that. Meanwhile, the passengers behind me with designer coats, tailored suits, platinum status, walked straight through. No questions asked. No delays. Some even got help with their luggage. I didn’t have time to argue. “My grandmother is dying,” I said. “Please. If I miss this flight, I won’t make it in time. Can you at least ask if someone’s willing to switch? I’ll pay.” He leaned back, unimpressed. “People say that all the time,” he said. “And you? You expect me to believe it?” Then he smiled. “What, do you think your family owns this airline?” I stopped arguing. Stopped pleading. Wiped my tears and stood up. Because what he didn’t know was my family does own the airline.

Back when I was young and dumb, I slapped some college guy working a side gig at a nightclub. My boyfriend had just ditched me for my best friend, Vanessa Shannon. Then, not even five minutes later, I caught her in the corner, sliding her hand under another guy's shirt. He bit his lip and just took it. Something in my brain short-circuited. I stood up and walked over. If Vanessa wanted him, why couldn't I? But the second I reached for him, he smacked my hand away. Vanessa cracked up. The whole private room turned to watch. Mortified, I slapped him. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." Later, my family went broke, and I ended up working at a nightclub just to get by. The private room was loud as hell. I lost a game, and everyone at the table started chanting for me to take my bra off. My face went hot. I stood there, completely frozen. Then a low voice cut through the noise with a cold laugh. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." I looked up. Our eyes locked. His stare was icy, full of pure mockery. It was the college guy I'd slapped years ago.

On the day of the divorce hearing, the judge went through the usual questions. “You’ve only been married for three years. Are you certain your marriage has broken down beyond repair?” I forced a bitter smile. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the table. “We were married for three years, yet we were never together for all three years. “Your Honor, is there anything left between us?” We dated for five years before marriage. My name was pinned at the top of his WhatsApp. I was his emergency contact. I was even the beneficiary of his insurance policy. I thought I had married the right man. But on our wedding day, he received a phone call, and his face instantly turned pale. I asked him what happened. He only said his mother was sick. He left everything behind and immediately booked a flight back to his hometown. For the next three years, he sent me photos of his three meals every day, but his mother never appeared in any of those photos. I felt sorry for him. I even offered to quit my job and go back with him to take care of her. He had refused and said softly, “I can’t bear to let you do that.” A month ago, I saw a cancer influencer’s account online. Orion Young appeared in one of her vlogs. The caption was heartwarming. [He’s there when I wake up. He’s there for every meal. His hands are always there for me to hold.] What did that make me? For 1,095 days, I had only myself. He had been lying to me. The judge struck the gavel for the final time and asked, “Have you made your decision?” I nodded firmly. The court officially ended the marriage. I looked at the divorce judgment in my hands, and my tears finally fell. I thought, “Orion, I’m setting you free. I’m setting both of us free.”

Five years ago, I died—my life as Irene Lancaster ended, along with the child in my womb. Pushed off a cliff by the woman who bore the man I once loved. But the true betrayal? He made her do it. To them, I was nothing. A mistake. An obstacle to be removed. But I survived. And now, I’ve returned with a new name, a new face, and the wealth and power of the richest man in the country. I came back for one reason—revenge. Cold. Ruthless. Nothing else mattered. Not even him. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. And the heart I thought had turned to stone... still remembers what it was like to love the one who destroyed it.

On the morning of my wedding, I found a saved voice message on Elliot Mercer's phone. It was only four seconds long, barely long enough to matter, yet the girl's voice filled the bridal suite as if she had stepped into the room herself. "I miss you, Elliot. I know I shouldn't." The makeup artist had just finished pinning the last pearl into my hair. My dress was zipped, my veil was hanging over the back of a chair, and downstairs, two hundred guests were waiting for me to marry the man I had loved for seven years. Elliot stood behind me in the mirror, already dressed in his black tuxedo. "She was drunk," he said. "It happened after the firm retreat. Someone dared her to send it." I checked their messages with shaking hands. Case notes. Coffee orders. Court schedules. Her apologies whenever she needed him again. His replies, patient and calm, as if being needed by her had become part of his day. There was nothing explicit. That almost made it worse. I couldn't point to one sentence and call it betrayal. I could only feel the space she had taken from me, quietly and steadily, while I was busy trusting him. My tears fell onto the lace of my dress. "Block her," I said. "Block Tessa now, and I'll still walk down that aisle." Elliot looked at me for a long moment. Then he took the phone from my hand. "After the ceremony, I'll have her moved off my cases," he said. "You have my word." Seven years together, and I still wanted his word to mean something. Then his phone rang. He looked down, and I saw Tessa's name before he turned the screen away. A second later, her text appeared. I'm outside. I can't breathe. Please don't make me do this alone. Elliot's face changed. I caught his wrist before he could reach the door. "If you leave this room," I said, my voice trembling, "don't come back expecting me to marry you." For one second, he looked like the choice hurt him. Then he peeled my fingers from his sleeve, one by one, and walked out of the bridal suite.