I Was Anastasia A Novel Novels & Stories

My junior accidentally broke the most expensive piece of equipment in the lab and asked me to help fix it. I had just started touching the instrument when she suddenly stepped back, tears brimming, and said, "Michelle, I can't take responsibility for this. I really can't afford it." Before I could even process her words, Nicky Hardy—the unattainable crush I had chased for three years—rushed in and shielded her behind him. Then he turned to me with a glare that could freeze fire. "Michelle, don't go too far. You can't expect her to take the fall for you." I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You know full well I was shoved into this research group. I don't understand any of this stuff. How could I do the experiments on my own?" His eyes grew colder, dripping with disdain. "I've been saying it—what can a nepo baby actually accomplish? And now the equipment's ruined, and you still have the nerve to push the blame onto Elizabeth?" I opened my mouth to argue, but then I caught a flicker of triumph across Elizabeth Horwitz's face in Nicky's arms. That was when it clicked. They only knew I got in through connections—they had no idea I'd financed this very equipment myself. They wanted to play their petty power games over a piece of lab equipment worth over ten million? Interesting.

I've been a goody-two-shoes for 18 years. The only outrageous thing I've ever done is get into a secret relationship with my stepbrother, Kieran Brock, even though my mom and my stepfather, Andre Brock, are still living in the same house as us. During the day, we're stepsiblings who aren't familiar with each other. At night, however, we tangle with each other heatedly in the same bed. During the fifth year of our underground relationship, I accidentally overhear Kieran's conversation with his friend. "When you were 21, you robbed your stepsister of her virginity. Now that you've toyed with her for five years, aren't you planning on giving her a legitimate position by your side?" I feel my heart tensing. Somehow, I look forward to hearing Kieran's answer. As Kieran plays with his lighter, he shoots his friend a flippant smile. "Like you said, she's my sister. She's not meant to be known as my lover. Had I not plan on getting revenge on her mom for ruining my family, there's no way I'd sleep with her! "Also, I've already proposed to Vivian. She's the only woman who is worthy of becoming my wife." I don't break down and demand answers from Kieran. Instead, I pretend to not hear anything as I turn on my heel and walk away. On the day of Kieran's wedding, he specifically tells his friends to watch over the venue to prevent me from causing trouble there. What he doesn't know is that I've already boarded a flight meant for another country. This time, I will never come back.

I've gone to the church to pray for my son, Robert Scott. On the way home, my carriage is overturned because the horses suffer from a shock. When I wake up, I look at my family gathering around my bed. Then, I decide to pull a prank on them. "Sorry, but who are you?" I do my best to suppress the smile that threatens to appear on my face. I want to see how my family is going to comfort me now that I have "amnesia". Will Mom and my husband, Jeremy Scott, take my hands comfortingly? Or will Robert lunge at me while crying out to me? What I don't expect is to see my family breathing sighs of relief after their initial shock has faded away. Mom is the first one to speak up with a hint of relief coloring her tone. "Since you've already forgotten all about us, then it's fine. Maisie, you're actually the adopted daughter of the Liddell family. Amber is the actual heiress of the Liddell family." Jeremy points at me while telling Robert, "Robbie, you must address her as Aunt Maisie." Before I can recover from my shock, I see my own son, whom I'm willing to sacrifice my life to protect, running over to hug Amber Liddell, the fake heiress, happily. "Mom, I've spent the whole day playing outside! Oh, I miss you so much!" So, it turns out that my case of amnesia is exactly what this family wants. In that case, I might as well abandon this farce of a family.

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.

Kael and I, Bella, grew up side by side in the Silverclaw Pack. We were bound by the unbreakable thread of fate. Just as we reached adulthood and dreamed of our future together, I was diagnosed with Wolf Soul Degeneration: a rare, incurable illness that would drain my life force completely in just one week. Our Marking Ceremony had been scheduled for exactly one month later. Kael, the rightful Alpha heir, was scheduled to depart for the three-year Northern Trials, the only path to earning his place as leader of our pack. Knowing he would abandon everything to stay with me, I made the unbearable choice to break his heart and drive him away. Three days after I staged my betrayal, he appeared before me, his arm wrapped around a soft-spoken she-wolf from the Blackstone Pack. I forced myself to stand tall and pretend nothing was wrong as he stared at me for a long, heavy moment. Then he pulled out an official pack decree and said, "Ella and I will be mated in three days. I want you to officiate the ceremony." Without another word, he turned and walked away with his new Luna-to-be I stared at the decree in my hands until my vision blurred. "I'm sorry. I hope you're happy forever."

After eighteen years of wandering alone, I looked like a tomboy covered in dirt when I was found and brought home. Just as I was about to shower, there was a loud scream in the bathroom. The fake heiress rushed out. She pushed me down before she threw herself into Mom’s arms and cried. “He… He peeped on me while I was showering. He even tried to touch me inappropriately!” Mom was furious, and Dad raised his arm to punch me. My brother was so enraged that he even wanted to throw me out! However, I was a girl! Did they forget that the child they lost was a girl?

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

Blurb “Admit it, you want me,” Frank said, staring deep into my eyes like I was the best thing he had ever seen. “I…don't.” “Real believable glasses.” He murmured, inching closer and closer. “Stop me if you truly believe your body isn't aching for me like mine is.” And then he claimed my lips in a searing hot kiss that left my body aching for him and my pussy dripping. Mimi Salvador has one rule: keep her fantasies on paper. The awkward, book-smart college writer has spent years hiding behind her laptop, secretly crafting spicy fanfiction about her stepbrother, Danny, the campus hockey golden boy. But when a mix-up at his game hands her smutty manuscript to his arrogant rival, Frank Santiago, her carefully built world combusts. Frank, cocky, tattooed, and maddeningly irresistible, should be her worst nightmare. Instead, he becomes her reluctant savior, claiming to be her boyfriend to save her from public humiliation. But pretending to date the campus bad boy comes with consequences… like stolen kisses that feel too real, late-night texts that make her heart race, and the terrifying realization that she might be writing her next fanfiction about him. Now Mimi’s torn between the boy she’s always loved and the one who’s making her rewrite every fantasy she’s ever had. In a campus where secrets spread faster than gossip, one mistake could cost her everything, including her heart. steamy, enemies-to-lovers, fake-dating hockey romance about love, lust, and learning that sometimes the best stories are the ones that write themselves.

She underwent a death experience—at the hands of the family she cared for most, who then sold her off. At eight years old, Seraphina Valeza was adopted from an orphanage by the Hawthorne family, a run-down third-rate family in Lunada City. She lived for fifteen years there, always careful, thankful for a house that was not her home. She was an excellent student, kept her sufferings to herself, and obeyed them in return for their "kindness." When the Hawthorne family was on the verge of bankruptcy, they chose survival over conscience. Seraphina was forced to marry Julian Moreau, the heir of a second-rate elite family. The marriage was hell. Behind closed doors, Julian humiliated her, controlled her every move, and crushed her dignity. In public, she was paraded as a trophy wife; in private, she was nothing more than a disposable tool. Once Julian seized full control of the Hawthorne family, Seraphina lost even her last value. With no way out, she resorted to suicide. But destiny wanted otherwise and gave her another chance. She found herself in the same spot as she was on the day of her marriage. This time she did neither crying nor begging. Instead, she smiled and switched the groom. In front of stunned guests, Seraphina walked past Julian and stopped before a man sitting casually at the banquet table, dressed out of place and enjoying the food as if the wedding had nothing to do with him. Lucien Cross. The annoying guy she constantly quarreled with in college. The man who cried while carrying her dying body in her past life. The one whose love she came to realize onlqy when it was too late. This time, Seraphina will not let him go. And all those who wronged her will be punished, without exception.