Independence

My ex-husband has remarried. Before the wedding, his new wife sends me an invitation. I can't understand this. Why would she invite her husband's ex-wife to her wedding? Half a year later, my ex-husband and his new wife make it onto the trending topics. #HaveMilesGallagher'sStandardsDroppedAfterHisDivorce? #MilesGallagherMustBeFilledWithRegret

I was reborn. The universe spat me back to the year of my SATs, eighteen again, right when Noah Ritchie confessed his love for me. Turned out, it was the last year he'd ever love me. That was the year he met her… the one who'd actually own his heart. For Carla Davidson, he didn't hesitate to confess his love to me, not out of sincerity, but to distract me from my studies. Because of him, I missed my shot at a top university and barely got into a second-tier one. He even staged a car accident to keep me from attending an academic competition, just so Carla could win first place. When Carla suffered from severe blood loss in an accident, he convinced me to donate so much blood that it permanently damaged my health and left me unable to bear children. Later, Noah was forced to marry me, but he spent every day brooding over a photo of Carla. And when he learned she was getting married, he abandoned me without a second thought, choosing to die for love. But in this lifetime, I'm wide awake. I won't love him again. I'll be selfish. I'll live for myself and no one else. So when Noah looked at me with his usual arrogance and asked, "Tiffany, will you be my girlfriend?" I met his gaze calmly and shook my head. "No."

"Ms. Longstaff, are you saying the wedding will proceed as planned, but the bride will be replaced with someone else? Is that correct?" Faced with the staff member's puzzled expression, Heather Longstaff nodded without hesitation. "Yes, the wedding will take place in two weeks as scheduled. I'll deliver the revised materials to you in the next few days." "Understood. Should I inform Mr. Bennett about—" "There's no need!" Heather cut the other person off, her voice sharp with emotion. Noticing the startled look on the staff member's face, she quickly composed herself and explained, "He's busy. All wedding-related matters should come directly to me from now on." This wedding was meant to be her final gift to Mitchell. And like any gift, it had to remain a surprise until the very last moment.

At our tenth engagement party, my girlfriend crushed my heart again, leaving my proposal ring dangling in the air. She had been chasing the ghost of her first love, and I was done being her fallback guy. When I finally opened my heart to someone new, she realized what she'd lost. Ten years together, ten engagement parties, and still, she wouldn't take my ring. Every time we reached the moment to exchange vows, she'd stare at the door, waiting for that man to swoop in and rescue her. She swore she'd only marry me if he crashed the party, claiming it would prove she'd truly chosen me. This time, I couldn't hold back. "If he never shows, are you just gonna keep stringing me along forever?" She shot back, "He still loves me. He'll show up to stop this. Besides, we've been together a decade. Does a ring even matter at this point?"

I was the sole front desk clerk at a haunted hotel. Welcoming players, checking in on the bosses’ quarters, and slacking off a bit were all part of the job. At least, that was what I thought. It turned out my days were far from ordinary. A blood-drenched little girl in a tattered red dress kept ringing the service bell. Her eerie voice echoed, “Miss, why didn’t you come play with me?” A creepy black cat with glowing eyes wouldn’t stop meowing and rubbing against my legs. And then there was the old woman with claws like knives, cheerfully knitting me a sweater… out of players’ skin. One day, I took a day off to care for my sick mother. That was my biggest mistake. The entire game instance erupted in chaos. Bosses interrogated players, demanding to know where their precious front desk clerk had gone. “Did she abandon us? Is she never coming back?” I ran. They chased. But no matter how fast I fled, their grip on me only tightened. In the end, escape wasn’t an option.

Just a few days before my wedding, I accidentally come across a post while scrolling online. The title reads, "To the guy getting married in this city, your fiancée's already cheated on you." Curious, I click in to see the gossip, only to realize I'm the one being talked about. A deep male voice plays in the video. "I heard you're getting married?" The woman in the frame, bare-backed and trembling, chokes back a sob. "After you left, I realized you're still the one I love most. I'm done with him. Take me away, please!" The moment I hear her voice, it feels like someone punches me straight in the chest. Then I notice something on her wrist—the luxury couple's bracelet I gave her just yesterday. And in that instant, I feel like the biggest joke of all. Turns out the fool was me.

I fell in love with a man I should never have touched—my brother-in-law, Lucas Zahn. The first time he came to our home with my sister, Quincy, they looked like the perfect couple. He smiled at me, held out a peace talisman bracelet, and said it would keep me safe. I wore it like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the old injury in my ankle flared up, he would scoop me into his arms and rush me to the hospital without a second thought. When thugs tried to harass me, he made them scatter with a single look, then spoke to me in a voice so gentle it made my heart tremble. I told myself I understood—that everything he did was only because I was Quincy’s younger sister. Even so, I clung to those rare moments when I could be near him. Until the night Lucas was drugged by an enemy, his life teetering on the edge. If no one acted, he would die. So, I acted. On that reckless, desperate night, my sister walked in. The sight struck her like a lightning bolt, and she collapsed, her weak heart seizing on the spot. What came next was madness. In a frenzy of rage and panic, Lucas tied me to an operating table. His hands—those hands I once longed to hold—cut open my chest and tore my heart out for her. “When the avalanche hit, Quincy nearly died saving me. I swore I’d treat her well for the rest of my life. That means loving her family, too. I never thought you’d be so shameless. “This is what you owe her!” He never knew that I was the one who saved him in that avalanche. So, I died in agony, my love carved out of me—literally. When my eyes opened again, I found myself back on the night he was drunk.

The company had just taken off when a project my wife, Lenora Peterson, was in charge of ran into trouble. To ease her mind during her pregnancy, I went overseas in her stead, spending ten perilous years abroad before finally returning home, barely alive. Instead of the joyful reunion I had imagined, she greeted me with cold detachment and thinly veiled disgust. "Why are you back?" Lenora asked. "Today is Nathan’s housewarming party," she added. "Let’s head there first—we’ll talk later." We rode in silence the entire way. When we arrived, a ten-year-old girl came dashing over and clung to Lenora affectionately. “Mommy, why did you take so long? Daddy’s been waiting for you forever!” Daddy? My eyes burned with rage—until I saw my old friend Nathan Grant stepping out to greet us with a smile. "Lily, come to Daddy. Mommy’s tired—don’t bother her now." When I met Lenora’s eyes, the guilt I saw there told me everything I needed to know. I turned away and texted my assistant, Morgan Williamson, to begin acquiring the company that, by right, had always belonged to me. He soon reported back. "Mr. Brooke, the acquisition process will be completed in three days."

My husband Dante, Don of the Moretti family, was killed in a gang crossfire. I was devastated, because the same day, I’d also found out that my IVF injection had worked. I was pregnant. The Moretti didn’t want me to spiral. So they called in Dante’s twin brother, Ash Moretti, to help around. I felt both guilty and grateful until I overheard them talking in the study. “It was Ash who died. Why would you make us tell Harper it was you?” His father asked. Dante’s voice. “I only married her because you promised me the Don’s seat.” Then Gianna’s voice. “Dante had given her a child. That alone should’ve been enough.” So. It wasn’t my husband who died. It was his brother. And my husband and his sister in law thought this was his clean exit. As he wished, I gave it to him. When the doctor told me the fetus had less than a ten percent chance of survival, I agreed to terminate. And along with reclaiming everything else I had once given the Moretti, I walked away from his life—for good.

My Alpha mate's childhood sweetheart and I are pregnant at the same time. To protect her reputation, he announces to the public that her pup is his. However, he claims that my pup is a bastard that I conceived after having an affair with another man. I go from being the noble Luna to a despised slut everyone scorns instantly. When I question my mate, Simon Latham, he shrugs and says, "Xandra has always been a goody two-shoes. She won't be able to handle the gossip from being pregnant without a mate. You're the Luna. Isn't it your duty to help your people?" On that day, any form of affection and love I ever felt for him die down completely. I secretly schedule an abortion and book a plane ticket. From now on, I will leave Simon for good.