I Wet My Panties

On our wedding anniversary night, my husband, Lucian Moore, comes home with a seven-year-old orphan named Chloe Martin. He even hands her the necklace he bought me for our anniversary and lets her play with it like a toy. Because of her, my son, Ryan Moore, shouts at me for the first time. "You're a bad woman! I don't want you to be my mommy!" I watch the three of them sitting together, warm and cozy, and I say nothing. Instead, I buy a ticket to leave the country. At first, they think I'm just acting out and will come home in a few days. But when they return from Feanland after celebrating Chloe's birthday, they find out I've joined a ten-year classified research project and will not come back again. At that moment, they fall apart.

Just as my wealthy boyfriend and I were talking about getting married, his mother dismissed me as an unrefined girl and demanded I attend a finishing school to learn how to be a proper wife. Looking at Zach’s pleading gaze, I gave in. I endured relentless psychological and physical torment for three months. However, on the day I was discharged, I overheard a phone call between Zach and his friend. “Zach, if you don’t want to marry Cathy, why didn’t you just tell her? Why did you have to send her to that hellhole to suffer? That finishing school your family runs is a freaking torture chamber. Constant beatings, electric shocks, forced kneeling for hours… No one comes out of there the same.” “You don’t get it. Jen is about to get engaged, and I can’t risk Cathy ruining it. As long as Jen is happy, I don’t care who I marry. Cathy grew up poor, so she can endure a little hardship. Three months of hardship for a lifetime of Stein money is a fair trade.” My vision blurred with tears when I heard those cruel words from his mouth. I thought. “Zach, since you loved Jenna so much, why did you have to toy with my feelings?”

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

My family is the oldest healing bloodline in the Frostmoon Pack, and I am the most promising talent to become the pack's Chief Healer. My destined mate, who promised to mark me on my 20th birthday, instead chose my stepsister Eliza on the very day that was meant to be mine. Then Alaric Blackwood, the legendarily powerful and cold Alpha of the Blackwood pack, openly pursued me after I was abandoned. For five years after becoming his mate, he treated me with tender care and bone-deep devotion. He told me not to work so hard as a healer and to focus on being his Luna. Until I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his loyal Beta. "Alpha, Eliza has already become Chief Healer. How long will you continue pretending to love Amara?" "It doesn't matter since I can't be Eliza's mate anyway. Besides, as long as I'm with Amara, she won't interfere with Eliza's happiness." Every night, he prayed to the Moon Goddess, and every word was filled with longing and love for Eliza. "May the Moon Goddess bless Eliza. May she find peace in body and spirit." "May the Moon Goddess grant Eliza all she desires, and protect all that she loves." ... "Eliza, we're not destined for each other in this life. I only pray we become fated mates in the next." Only then did I realize that my mate—his body belonged to me, but his heart belonged deeply to my stepsister. I've prepared a fake identity and planned a staged death at the hands of rogue wolves. From now on, we will never meet again, in this life or any other.

My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out. I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste. He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered. So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice. But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan. Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked. He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood. Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one. Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air. "Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities." "You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?" A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder. They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood. I said nothing. I just nodded. Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned. But he didn't know. I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood. There was no "us" anymore.

In my previous life, I practically dragged my useless childhood sweetheart to Harvard with me. My academic record was top-notch, and I spent three years tutoring him. I asked my father to donate a library to Harvard University, ensuring that they would extend an additional offer of admission to Felix. Finally—when he rejected the offer in favor of taking a gap year to go work in Australia with the girl he was infatuated with—I raised such a massive scene that I ultimately forced him to go to Harvard with me. After graduation, we got married. The natural ending. He built a tech empire and made me the wife of the richest man in the country. One regret. He died too young. Didn't leave me a single word at the end. Just went. And I — I inherited his billions, and lived comfortably all the way to eighty-eight. But when I died, I saw his soul. His eyes were blood-red. "You forced me onto this path. You took me from the only woman I ever loved. I died with regret. Pray we never meet again in the next life." ...What the fuck? He'd been in that much pain? And I was the only one — happily riding it out? Captions drifted across my vision. [Lmao — how thick is this side character's skin?] [Male lead dies young in agony, she breezes through to 88 as the richest widow in the country.] [The girl he actually loved was the one who flunked her SATs and ran off backpacking, hello???] [They both died young, missed each other, and the side character had the time of her life.] Even I felt bad. When I opened my eyes, I was back — standing in that basement he'd sworn would be his life of freedom, on the day he was supposed to reject his Harvard offer. This time, I am not stopping him from going to Australia.

Today is the sixth time my girlfriend, Shirley Lake, is supposed to meet my parents. My parents and I wait at the restaurant for four whole hours. I call her over and over again, but she never picks up. Just as I'm about to try one last time, I see Shirley's childhood sweetheart, Joshua Solomon, post a picture on his Instagram, with the location tagged at a suburban hotel. The picture shows a woman's pale back, one shoulder bare, with a striking red spider lily tattoo visible on her skin. Underneath the picture was the caption, "We'll make it from 18 to 80." A mutual friend comments, "First-love couples are the sweetest!" I silently hit the like button, then comment, "Make sure to get buried together when you die. And don't come back to haunt anyone else."

"Ssshh. You made me cum twice already. I’m not leaving you untouched. I want to taste you, suck you, feel every inch of you deep inside me.” “Fuck,” Valtor growled, a deep velvety rumble that sent a pulse of heat throbbing through my core. “Who the hell taught you to talk like that?” No one. I never dirty-talked with Kallias. These words came purely after the fire Valtor ignited in me. ----- I was the happiest woman alive until my husband and my maid betrayed me in one night. Now I am no longer the good Luna they once expected me to be, but a wounded woman burning with vengeance. I am willing to give anything, do anything, even if it means striking a dangerous bargain with Valtor North, the handsome Rogue King whose reputation makes every Alpha tremble in fear. But fate made its twist again. An unexpected mad attraction rose between me and the man I should hate, the sworn enemy of my kind. The Rogue King. Torn between duty and desire, I face the ultimate battle. Can I survive the storm or will it consume me whole?

In the seventh year of my marriage to Simon Heath, I finally walk away from him after his 32nd mistress shows up at my door. I join a classified government program and disappear from his world. Now he's falling apart and calling me non-stop. "Lily, I was wrong. Please come back." In the past, a single word of apology from him would have been enough to make me stay. But not this time. This time, he's bound to be disappointed.

To everyone else, I'm the wife of Stefano Pace, the man who runs this city's underworld. To others, I am living the kind of luxury every woman in town envies. But what no one knows is that in three days, I'm leaving my husband for good. It started when I took Stefano's car to wash and spotted a black stocking that wasn't mine wedged in the passenger seat cushions. It was balled up and still reeked of sickly sweet perfume. The sight of it was like a knife to the heart. I knew that perfume. It is Isla Torelli's. She's Stefano's underboss, the only woman besides me who's ever taken the passenger seat. My hand trembled as I gripped the stocking, but I kept my cool. I thought back to our wedding seven years ago, when Stefano stood in front of the whole family and vowed, "If I ever betray you, then betray me a hundredfold!" He probably did not think those words would come true.