Independence Library Apartments

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

On my way to the bank, I stumbled across a post: [What's the most shameful thing you've done behind your partner's back?] One comment stood out: [I secretly married my first love, and my girlfriend keeps dumping money into our joint account like an idiot. She actually thinks I'm saving for a house. There's already sixty-seven grand in there. Once she hits eighty, I'm taking it all!] The flood of likes made my stomach twist. I pulled up my account balance. Sixty-seven grand. Not a penny more, not a penny less. So, my boyfriend secretly married his ex.

Zachary Quinn suddenly develops a fondness for going to a massage parlor after I'm discharged from the hospital—I was in an accident. He excitedly tells me that the masseuse there has the best skills he's ever experienced. "They even have free food and fruits! I bring my laptop there with me to work when I get tired at the office." I don't know why he's telling me these things. He knows my father got caught cheating at a massage parlor. I hate those places. It's only later that I learn the relaxation he describes isn't what I imagined. He's long since gone bad in places that I can't see.

At six in the evening, Allen Bennett prepared a perfect dinner, with each dish carefully chosen to match Sarah Foster's preferences. By seven, he had run her bath, adding lavender essential oils and rose petals to the warm water, filling the bathroom with a calming fragrance. By eight, he placed her comfortable slippers by the entrance, awaiting her return. At nine, the front door finally opened. Sarah walked in, and Allen immediately went to greet her. With practiced grace, he helped her out of her coat and placed her slippers before her feet, then hung the coat in the entryway closet. Turning to her with a gentle smile, he asked, "Would you prefer to have your bath first or would you like to eat?"

I was three months pregnant when the car crash happened. In those final moments of fading consciousness, I frantically dialed Damian’s private, encrypted line—the one meant only for emergencies. He never picked up. By the time I was rushed into surgery, I received a crushing blow: Damian had forcibly reassigned my lead private physician to the South District. He needed the best doctor to treat his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn, who had just been widowed. When I finally drifted awake through a haze of agony, my trembling fingers swiped open Instagram. I saw Evelyn’s latest post: “I knew that no matter the distance or the time, Damian would move heaven and earth to reach me. He even brought his Chief Physician just to help me heal from my grief.” In the accompanying photo, Damian—a man known for his cold, lethal eyes—was gazing at the woman beside him with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. While I was clawing my way back from the brink of death, fighting to save our child, my husband was playing protector to another pregnant woman. A hollow, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Without a second thought, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I opened my inbox and hit "Confirm" on the invitation from the world’s most elite International Finance Institute. If Evelyn is all he cares about, I’ll give them my blessing. In seven days, I will vanish from his world forever—and I’m taking my baby with me.

The owner of a small company gives me an expensive bag as a gift because I want to invest in his company, yet his wife mistakes me for a homewrecker. She and her entourage crash my engagement party and trash the place. "All homewreckers need to go to hell!" "Shameless women will always be shameless. Strip her so everyone online can see what she looks like!" "Share the livestream and like it, everyone! We'll disfigure her once we hit 500 thousand likes!" Not only does my fiancé refuse to help, but he even announces that the engagement is off. "A homewrecker doesn't deserve to marry me!" I repeatedly warn them not to act rashly, but they ignore me. So, I give them each a swift punch to the gut before stepping on the perpetrator's face. Then, I call my secretary. "Tell Mr. Lane that I'm pulling out of the investment. Also, call the police and my lawyer. I've been robbed and insulted in public—I want the culprits to go to jail for this!" My fiancé regrets everything and asks me for a reconciliation, but I kick him aside. "Get lost! I'm not dumpster!"

Julian Carter orders me to clean up his childhood sweetheart's new home when I'm still recovering from childbirth. "Everyone knows you're good at home economics! Things will be much easier for us with your help." I'm wrapping things up when I feel something dampen my pants. The discharge trickles down my leg and onto the floor. Nadine Stephens covers her mouth and cries dramatically, "What's that? It's so disgusting!" She even bends over and pretends to gag. Awkwardness and shame wash over me, making me want to dig a hole and hide myself. However, Julian grabs me and scowls. "I told you to come here to help. You're causing trouble on purpose, aren't you?" It's Valentine's Day, but he chases me out and tells me to go home. I wait for him for the whole night with our child in my arms. He only returns the following day with love bites on his neck. That's when I know we won't have a future together.

"You've undergone IVF six times to conceive this child, Ms. Caldwell. Are you sure you want to give up? Is Mr. Spencer okay with this?" "I'm sure he'll agree." Callista Caldwell's voice is hoarse after a sleepless night. She's never felt more awake, though. "I'll schedule the surgery for a week from now, then." It's Callista and Luther Spencer's wedding anniversary in a week. This is good—she can end things where they started. After booking her flight out of the country, she places her hand on her abdomen. There's a blossoming life in there. She's looked forward to this for the past five years. She never would've expected to give up on it before it could happen.

Two days before the full moon, my mate Derek, our pack Alpha, decided to take his Omega assistant Sarah hunting in the forest. I didn't argue or make a scene. I even lovingly packed his bags for him. He mocked me, saying my pregnancy had finally taught me to be gentle. After he left, I immediately went to terminate the pregnancy. All because in my previous life, when I prevented him from accompanying that Omega, his little assistant was brutally murdered by rogue wolves in the forest. Derek acted indifferent on the surface, but when I was about to give birth, he sliced open my belly with a silver dagger, removed our unborn pup, and cut it to pieces before my eyes. Only then did I understand he had resented me all along. With this second chance, I will leave him with nothing.

When the conglomerate's heir parachutes into our company, he conveniently brings along a "poor student" he's been sponsoring for years. That afternoon, they turn the entire office upside down. The young heir, Matthew Zohart, has no idea how to handle problems. All he knows how to do is smooth things over. He lets Gracie Fowler blow through my team's entire bonus and just stands there as she throws a tantrum in the open office. "I'm the future daughter-in-law chosen by the Zohart family!" she shrieks. "What are you people, anyway? Just a bunch of office drones!" Enraged, I rip off my work badge and turn to walk out. The very next second, Matthew drops down and grabs my leg. "You can't leave! I don't know how to do anything! If the team leader who actually gets things done quits, won't my family's company collapse?"