Independence

On my eighteenth birthday, the boy I'd secretly loved for years kissed me first. After a night of passion, I traced the marks on my skin and thought it was all a dream. I was ready to make it official. But the next day, my nude photos were plastered across the entire school. When I confronted him, Damien Ashford laughed with bloodshot eyes: "Blame your mother. If she hadn't turned a blind eye while those girls destroyed Rosalie, Rosalie would never have killed herself." "Now let's see — when her own daughter becomes the school whore, will she still just sit back and watch?" That was the moment I understood. Every tender word from the night before had been a weapon. In the end, my mother slapped me hard across the face and dragged me away. Years later, we met again. He had become the Don — the most powerful man in the underworld. And I was a dealer in his brand-new casino. He offered me up like a chip for other men's amusement, then claimed me himself after the game — the winner taking his prize. I didn't resist. Didn't struggle. Obedient as a puppet. But he froze. His eyes locked onto the stretch mark across my stomach.

The day my daughter Aria was discharged from the hospital, my Alpha mate Marcus returned from his two-week business trip with his Omega secretary Vivian. My daughter was hospitalized due to nut allergy, but she gave Aria nut chocolate as a gift. I suppressed my anger and refused, but Marcus frowned and scolded me:"Serena, Vivian meant well. She didn't know about the allergy." After sending Vivian away, Marcus sent me and my daughter countless expensive gifts to compensate, which I silently accepted. Marcus breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I would continue to play the role of his obedient Luna. But when he learned that I, who was 3 months pregnant, had gone alone to the Alpha Council and submitted a mate bond dissolution application, the powerful Alpha broke down and begged me to come back.

To become Marcus's Luna, I hid my identity as Crimson Ridge pack's Alpha heiress and married him. Since two Alphas have difficulty conceiving offspring, I even begged the pack witch to suppress my bloodline, downgrading my wolf from Alpha to Beta. After I finally got pregnant, Marcus was out shopping with his omega mistress while I was being attacked by rogue wolves and losing our child. I forced myself to like the social media post where his lover was showing off their relationship, fighting back nausea. His call came through immediately. "What are you trying to pull now! The pack successfully signed a cooperation treaty with the neighboring pack today. You didn't even show up to the celebration, so Ivy had to take over all your Luna duties and has been taking care of my daily needs. You should be thanking her for helping you out!" "You're supposed to be a strong warrior! How can one pregnancy make you this delicate?!" He finished his rant and hung up in anger. Right. I'd been away from home too long. I was starting to forget my own last name. I didn't hesitate anymore. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in ages. "Beta Hayes, book me a flight for tomorrow morning. I'm going back to Crimson Ridge pack."

After my stepsister, Jennifer Nichols, died in a tragic accident, Julian Asher hated me for ten whole years. He was the youngest star attorney in Vaxton Bay. He was always calm and composed, yet he never once hid his disgust toward me. I gave up everything for him: my education, my family, my friends, even the inheritance I was meant to receive. I stayed by his side through the grueling bar exam and the brutal early days of his career. But all he ever said was, "Miley, if you really want to please me, go ahead and die." The only woman he ever loved in this lifetime was my stepsister. And I realized that far too late. It wasn't until a fire broke out unexpectedly in the courthouse archives and I was trapped upstairs that something changed. Julian ran in to save me. The blaze devoured everything in its path. In the end, he shoved me out of the rubble. The collapsing steel beams crashed down on him. Blood spilled everywhere. Outside the operating room, I fell to my knees, begging the heavens to let him live. Before he died, he left me one final message with the doctor. "Miley, I hope we never meet again in the next life." At his funeral, his mother slapped me hard across the face—again and again. "You're a cursed wretch. Killing Jennifer wasn't enough for you; now you've killed my son too. I never should've agreed to let Julian marry you." His father dragged me to my knees by my hair, forcing me to kneel. "This is all my fault. I was too soft-hearted. Julian saved you three times, and all you ever brought him was misery!" Everyone believed I was the reason Julian died. And deep down, I believed it too. In the end, I slit my wrists and took my own life—only to awaken back in university, at the very moment we was supposed to get engaged. This time, I made a choice. I would not chase after him again. I would step aside and let him be with the one he loved most—my stepsister, Jennifer.

For the seven years after our marriage, I spend whole nights in the prayer room before he will even touch me. Eric Compton says it is to atone for what I owe Monica Lynch. When his mother, Barbara Lane, pushes me to fulfill my wifely duties again, I overhear Eric's friends laughing. "Let me think. How many rounds of IVF has Avery done this year? She's trying very hard to get pregnant." "She probably doesn't know there's no way she's ever getting pregnant with Eric's kid." Eric scoffs. "Every time we're done, I give her a glass of milk. After all these years of birth control, it'd be a miracle if she got pregnant." He adds, "Everything she's suffered through is just payback for driving Monica away." I smile bitterly and send the recording to Richard Compton. "I'm not the lucky one meant to carry on the Compton name. Can I go now?"

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."

I had supported Lauren Geller through seven years of competitive cycling. After she defended her championship title, I handed her the divorce papers myself. Her shining career ended there and then. I had been able to carry her to the summit, and I could just as easily lift someone else in her place. It was not until I appeared before her with my girlfriend that she finally understood. It had never been Lauren who abandoned me; I was the one who chose to walk away.

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

The day Jasper Carter's terminally ill ex, Natalie Klutz, gave birth, his parents—Josephine and Raymond—hired ten bodyguards to keep me, his actual wife, out of the hospital. But I never showed. Josephine clutched Natalie's hand. "She's not getting near you or the baby." Jasper wiped Natalie's forehead. "Relax. Dad's got men at every door. If Emily shows, we'll toss her." Hours passed. Still no me. Jasper finally let himself breathe. He didn't get what my deal was. He was just granting Natalie's dying wish—to be a mom. The second the nurse handed over the crying baby, he smiled like everything was finally worth it. If I came tomorrow and said sorry, he'd forgive me. Hell, he'd even let me raise the kid. What he didn't know? I had just submitted my paperwork. I'd leave the country, join Doctors Without Borders, and ghost him for good.

My twin sister, Audrey Goodwin, was obsessed with romance novels about rich heirs. All she wanted was to marry into money and live like some perfect socialite. She set her sights on the silver-spoon scion in Jezelton, Michael Strickland, who'd been blind after a car accident. Audrey got close by becoming his private nurse. But she got tired of the work really quickly. So, she asked me to cover for her. When Michael finally got his eyesight back and held a huge celebration, Audrey decided to drug him so she could slide right into the role of Mrs. Strickland. I didn't stop her this time. I even went as far as booking her a luxury suite so she could carry out her plan. In my last life, I had begged Audrey not to go through with it. I told her romance novels weren't real life, and guys like Michael were way too powerful to mess with. She had actually listened and canceled the plan. But a little while later, the news broke: Michael secretly got married. It turned out that he'd been with someone else that very night. Just like that, Audrey's big fantasy was gone. She blamed me for ruining her "dream". My parents blamed me as well; they beat me and yelled at me, saying Audrey couldn't marry Michael now because of me. One night, Audrey snapped. She came into my room with a hammer and beat me to death. Now, I had been given another chance. I woke up right on the night of Michael's recovery party.