Indian River Tide Chart

At the very moment Phoebe Stanton miscarries, her husband, Connor Russell, is celebrating the return of his first love. To him, her three years of devotion and companionship mean nothing more than being a live-in maid and cook. Phoebe gives up on him and decides to divorce. Everyone in their circle knows that Phoebe is clingy and impossible to shake off. "I bet she'll come crawling in a day." Connor sneers. "A day? That's too long—half a day at most." But the moment Phoebe signs the divorce papers, she decides never to look back. She throws herself into a new life. She revives her career, which she once abandoned, builds new connections, and meets new people. As time goes on, Connor no longer sees even a trace of Phoebe at home. He begins to panic. At an industry summit, he finally spots her, surrounded by admirers. Desperate, he pushes forward. "Phoebe, haven't you had enough of this tantrum?" But Gideon Blackwood suddenly steps in front of her, shoving Connor aside, his very demeanor chilling the air. "Don't touch my woman." Connor has never loved Phoebe. But now that he does, it's already too late. There's no longer a place for him in her world.

A three year marriage was ended by infertility. When someone else became pregnant, she was forced out of the family without a single cent to her name…

Everyone in the Blood Moon pack is whispering that Alpha Cassian Ward only allows his pack to spend ten dollars a day. Yes, ten dollars. It's not a pack tradition, nor a decree from the elders. The rule comes from his new financial planner, Mira Langford. Even as Luna, the moment they discover I've spent a single dollar more—on medicine, no less—they drag me out and whip me 20 times in public. By the second lash, my back splits open, blood soaking through my skirt. My personal maid, Elsie Quinn, throws herself forward, sobbing. "Stop, please stop! Luna Sutton is fragile! She won't survive this!" But Mira only lashes harder. "Alpha Cassian said 20 lashes for every extra dollar. Who dares defy him?" I clutch my belly and manage a whisper. "Bring Alpha Cassian here..." A while later, Cassian arrives with his entourage. When he sees the blood streaking down my back, a flicker of pity crosses his eyes. "Mira, that's enough." Tears brim in Mira's eyes. "You said everyone would answer to me when you brought me back. I haven't even begun to be strict, and you're already going back on your word?" With that, she turns to leave. Cassian catches her hand. "Fine. I won't interfere. Don't tire yourself. Let the guards finish it." As the whip strikes me again and again, a warm, sticky pool of blood forms under me. A caustic laugh escapes my lips as tears streak down my face and into my tangled hair. By the time Cassian remembers me the next morning and finally sends for a healer, Elsie is bent over my body, trembling with grief. "Luna Sutton, how could this happen? You're gone, and so is the pup."

I'm the heiress of an affluent family. The housekeeper's daughter secretly wears my gown prepared for my birthday party, and I'm about to teach her a lesson. Suddenly, I see real-time comments. "This female antagonist is just jealous that the female protagonist looks better in the gown than she does!" "It's fine. The male protagonists are going to show up soon!" "Let's hang on for a bit more. I'd like to see this antagonist continue being so snobby once her family goes bankrupt!" In the next second, my brother and fiancé show up. They shield the housekeeper's daughter in their arms. Sneering, I commanded the staff, "Strip all three of them."

When I pester Sean Sackman, my childhood sweetheart, for a second time, he rejects me. "I don't have time for you now," he says. "It's Valentine's Day today, and the campus belle just agreed to go on a date with me this afternoon." Just as I am about to pleasure myself, his housemate, Chad Huxley, comes back. Several comments suddenly appear in front of me. "This is hilarious. The second male lead is literally burning with desire when he sees the female lead in her nightrobe. But he still has to hold it in and pretend to be unfazed. He's like a grumpy little puppy!" "I think the female lead should turn to the second male lead instead. Every time she goes to find her childhood sweetheart, the second male lead ends up taking a cold shower. Poor guy." "The second male lead might have an addiction, but he always keeps his hands to himself. Girl, a feast is literally right in front of you. Stop getting hung up on that idiot!" My eyes light up as I stare at Chad. "Can you help me with something?"

Misty Lawrence has an ex-boyfriend whom she can't forget—Zach Sterling. Carter Flanagan has always hoped that he would one day replace Zach's place in Misty's heart. In the eighth year of his and Misty's marriage, he accidentally breaks a bowl that Zach randomly bought. Misty screeches, "Get the hell out of here! I don't want to see you anymore!" That's when Carter realizes he'll never win when it comes to Zach, especially since the latter is dead. This time, he prepares a divorce agreement and leaves after signing it. It's Misty's turn to panic…

It's the final round of this year's Pack Pup Tournament. I can't take my eyes off my pup, Patrick Grant, as he wins the title. When the host calls Patrick's parents onstage to celebrate, I leap up, thrilled. But then I see Nicholas Grant, my Alpha mate, walk up with his secretary, Natalia Lawson. They stand side by side under the spotlight, kissing Patrick on both cheeks. It's as if Natalia is the mother, as if she's the Luna of our pack, as if they're the perfect family. I can only stand there in the audience, feeling the weight of countless startled stares, too ashamed to lift my head. Later, Nicholas brushes the incident off. "You were seated farther back. It was easier to bring Natalia up on stage," he explains. Easier? I swallow the humiliation and force myself to believe it was just an unfortunate coincidence—until today, that is. I sense through our blood bond that something's wrong with Patrick, so I drop everything and race to the pack hospital. But when I arrive, Patrick is lying in Natalia's lap, whining to her in a soft voice. I step forward to introduce myself, but the healer only looks surprised. "The emergency contact form lists Natalia as his mom, though." It turns out Patrick himself had stripped me of my role as his mother. And Nicholas didn't stop him. I finally understand. I don't belong in this family anymore. That night, I tell Nicholas I want to dissolve the mate bond between us. He doesn't even look up as he says, "Don't be dramatic. You'd dissolve our bond over a single name on a form?" "Yes."

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

On the day Tristan Spallone, the head of a mafia family, and I mark our fifth wedding anniversary, the manager of the Spallone family vault calls. Something that was stored away for a long time has finally come due, and Tristan is to retrieve it. He's so busy that he barely has a moment to breathe, so I go in his place. What I bring back is an old roll of film. The manager warned me that if it wasn’t developed soon, its age might cause it to be ruined beyond recovery. But when I have them developed, frame after frame is filled with Winnie Leigh, his first love. Her smile looks so sweet in those pictures that they nearly suffocate me. What about me, one may ask? I never once appeared on his albums. The office door slams open. Tristan bursts in, already out of breath. "Anna, is your life really so empty that you have to dig through mine?" I turn toward him, the man who's usually so composed. I neither question him nor break down. Instead, I speak slowly. "We're getting a divorce." Tristan frowns and thrusts the stack of photos into the shredder. He then looks back at me. "They're gone. Do you still want a divorce?" A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Yes."