I Saved Her Life, He Chose Her Over Me

My husband makes me quit my job to care for his deceased friend's wife after she's given birth. Yet, she deliberately breastfeeds to his face. He can't take his eyes off her, yet he has the nerve to call me petty. He even says I'm asking for trouble. Later, I get a divorce and sell the house. I return to my hometown and make it big there. That's when he begs me to take him back.

His precious childhood sweetheart got drunk one night and ended up in a stranger’s bed. When she showed up again, she was pregnant—just like me. On the day I gave birth, Harold handed me the divorce papers. "Rachel’s about to return to acting," he said coldly. "She and the baby need a proper title. If a scandal breaks out, it’ll destroy her." Dragging my frail body, I calmly signed the papers. In my previous life, I refused to step aside. I went live, holding my daughter, and exposed the award-winning actress Rachel Underwood for knowingly becoming the other woman. The internet turned on her. She lost every endorsement and was driven to the edge by massive fines—eventually jumping off a building. Harold quietly took care of her funeral... and then stood by as her fans harassed me in the streets, even tried to burn my child and me alive. It was not until I saw him lock the door behind us that I realized—he had wanted us dead all along. Then I woke up. And it was the day he gave me the divorce agreement... again.

At 4:30 in the morning, my husband answered a call from his ex-girlfriend and accidentally put it on speaker. "Jason, my daughter, Alison, has a fever—over 104. I can't get a ride..." The sudden sound of sobbing jolted me awake. Jason hurriedly turned off the speaker and lowered his voice. "Send me your location. I'll come right away." It seemed he had forgotten that today was my first prenatal checkup.

A stampede happened at my daughter's kindergarten. Timothy Horuson was in a hurry to save his first love's son, and he pulled away someone else's hand. A hand reached out to him, hoping for him to save her. His daughter's hand. And the light in my daughter's eyes faded. The longing for fatherly love she had held on to for so long vanished. I risked my life to save her. She looked at me quietly. "I'll go with you, Mom. We'll leave Dad behind and go somewhere he'll never find us."

[Written in English] Six Packs Series #1: Kagan Lombardi Just a blink to her reality, she finds it hard to believe. Dalshanta Ferrucci, a notorious gang leader, develops a strong feeling for a playboy who belongs to one of the hotties of Six Packs. However, her arrogance and hysteric summons the most attractive saint, Kagan Lombardi. (c) Copyright 2022 by Gian Garcia

Six Packs Series #1: Kagan Lombardi Just a blink to her reality, she finds it hard to believe. Dalshanta Ferrucci, a notorious gang leader, develops a strong feeling for a playboy who belongs to one of the hotties of Six Packs. However, her arrogance and hysteric summons the most attractive saint, Kagan Lombardi. (c) Copyright 2021 by Gian Garcia

Gina and I were just ordinary werewolves in the Silver Claw Pack. Our incomes were modest, but we married well. Her mate was the captain of the Silver Claw Pack patrol unit. Mine, the fire squad leader. They grew up together—childhood friends—and were the youngest golden duo in the Werewolf Alliance. On the day we married, our mates each bought us a luxury high-rise apartment on the top floor of the central castle, side by side, with the promise of sharing life and death together. That is, until that fateful night. Rogues broke into the central zone. Chaos reached even the upper levels of our building. The tower caught fire. Amidst the thick smoke, I sent a desperate mind-link to my mate. He blocked it. Turns out, both our mates were busy shielding their shared first love, Lifu. They ignored our calls for help. Gina dragged me as we ran. She was six months pregnant; her pup was already kicking from the panic. Her mate never showed up either. We made it to the stairwell, where we were trapped for five hours. Toxic fumes filled our lungs. I went into labor too early. My pup didn't make it. Gina bled for three days in the hospital. Her pup was gone too. Meanwhile, our mates were digging through the wreckage—twenty-four hours straight—searching for Lifu's lost dog. That was it. Right then and there, Gina and I looked at each other and knew. We were done.

My husband secretly swapped the transplant recipient, giving the kidney that was meant for our daughter to the daughter of the woman he had always loved. Not long after, our daughter's condition worsened. The doctors tried to save her, but it was no use. She didn't make it. At the same time, the other girl's surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he handed out little gifts to the entire hospital in celebration. Rage and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed. When I came to, the doctors told me I had cancer. Late-stage. My time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, I walked out of the hospital, clutching the urn that held my daughter's ashes. In the cold, empty house, I sat alone and drafted the divorce papers.

At a class reunion, I ended up getting together with my high school crush. However, one evening, as I was scrolling through a social media platform, I was suddenly bombarded with mentions tagging me in a shocking post. The content left me seeing stars. "My girlfriend has a car, a house, a great degree, and she's stunning. Yet, somehow, she's into me! Haha!" "To be honest, she's too exceptional, and it's kind of killing my sense of masculinity. Once I manage to get my hands on her assets, I'll have her give me two kids and then live life on my own terms. She won’t be able to control me then." "You guys can stay jealous. Not like you know her anyway, so what can you even do to me?"

My mother despised me because I was the unintended consequence of a one-night stand. She poured all her love and attention into her students, treating them as if they were her own flesh and blood. One day, when her favourite pupil confessed his feelings for me, she flew into a rage. She slapped me hard across the face and called me a whore. Years later, as Alzheimer's clouded her mind, she forgot I even existed, yet still remembered every single one of her precious students. The irony was that not one of them ever came to visit her in the nursing home. They all loathed her just as much as I did.