It's Been 84 Years

I had been in love with Anton Stark for fifteen years, and it was always sweet until another woman appeared. He began to act distant and used every trick to force me into a divorce. I clung to him desperately, even though I was battered and bruised, hoping he would change his mind. But eventually, I woke up. Some relationships should come to an end.

As I was cleaning up the house, I noticed something had fallen out of the cabinet my wife always kept locked tight. I remembered Megan's constant warnings. "That cabinet holds all our family's important records. If anything gets lost, there's no getting it back. Just leave it alone and don't touch it." Worried something valuable might have fallen out, I rushed to pick it up. But what I found was a thick stack of remittance slips. From forty years ago to now, every month, my wife had been sending money to the same account. And that's when it hit me. My wife had been lying to me. The money I'd been pouring into this family had been flowing right out, into the hands of someone else.

Harriet thought the worst thing she’d done this December was surrender to a stranger in a dark room one reckless night that left her shaking, breathless, and certain she’d never see him again. She was wrong. The next morning, she arrives home for Christmas only to learn her parents have rushed off on an emergency trip, leaving her alone to supervise the renovation of their house. Except… she’s not alone. Devon, the boy who grew up in their home like family, the “almost-brother” she hasn’t seen in years, opens the door older now, broader, too handsome for her peace of mind. And when he looks at her, she feels it in her bones. Because he isn’t just Devon. He’s the stranger from last night. The man who took her virginity. The man she swore she’d forget. Now they’re trapped in the same house for the holidays, two people who should never have crossed that line, pretending not to remember the way his hands fit her body, the way she whispered his name without knowing it was his.

Lavender faced the ultimate betrayal after discovering that her fiancé, the man she loved most, had been using her all along. He had only dated her to seek revenge against her father and to claim everything her late mother had left her as a gift to his real fiancee. Devastated, Lavender lost everything she owned to him, and her family was plunged into dire poverty as a result. Heartbroken, she fled her past, running away from her disowned father and the agonizing pain. She dedicated her life to caring for the "blessings" her ex-fiancé had left behind. But just when Lavender thought she had found a measure of peace, everything starts falling apart again. Forced to reconcile with her ex, Lavender is torn—he is a changed man now, but to her, he remains an enemy. As her bottled-up emotions resurface, past cases reopening, and his persistent efforts to win back her affection intensify, how long can Lavender's hatred last? This book is part of a series but can be read as a standalone. Although reading this book will enlighten some parts of the second book "It Started With A Kiss". You can also find the second book on Goodnovel.

My husband threw me into the crocodile pit to help his childhood sweetheart, who was a KOL, gain popularity. To make the live stream more realistic, he personally tossed bait at me. “Have you not eaten? My grandma can run faster than you!” He watched as I bled from my abdomen, believing I was just pretending to be pitiful. When I asked for a divorce, he kicked me to the ground. “Since you love pretending to be pitiful to ask for a divorce, why didn’t you just let the crocodile kill you?” I handed him a medical report. “My child died because of you. Does this count as pretending to be pitiful?”

I married Eleanor Vance on the very same day her true love was getting married next door. Just as we were about to exchange rings, the man himself stormed into our ceremony. Red-eyed and shaking, he announced that the only woman he'd ever loved was Eleanor and that he couldn't go through with marrying the fiancee waiting for him, the one battling a terminal illness. Eleanor didn't even look at me. She pulled her hand from mine and ran after him. I was left standing there, humiliated, while my mother was so angry she ended up in the hospital. Later, the abandoned bride and I caught each other's eyes for a moment. I asked quietly, "Do you want to switch grooms?" Three years passed before Eleanor came back. She was crying, saying she regretted everything. But I scooped up both kids from the backseat, one in each arm. I stepped aside and said, "Excuse me. I'm in a hurry to pick up my wife from work."

I've been mated to Alpha Alaric Goremane for five years, and I'm still a virgin. On the night he claims me, I stand before him, naked. With my heart pounding against my chest, I muster the courage to step forward and wrap my arms around him. But he pulls away, and then comes the words that lingered in my head for years like a devil's whisper. "I'm sorry, Kyna. I have severe germaphobia and can't handle physical intimacy. Please give me some time." In that moment, my heart plunges into the abyss. But when I see the torment in his eyes, I convince myself that he doesn't love me any less. He's just sick, and all I have to do is wait. So, I wait for five long years. On our fifth mating anniversary, I cross thousands of miles in a raging storm just to see the look of delight on his face when I surprise him. Sure enough, I see the warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his expression. But what a pity… it isn't for me. The Alpha, who claims to be an obsessive clean freak, is on one knee before his childhood sweetheart. He gently slips off her rain-soaked heels, dries her feet, and warms her cold toes with the heat of his palm. It's as if that's the most natural thing in the world, and as if his world holds no one else. He sighs. "Serene, how many times have I told you that you'll catch a cold? What would you do without me?" In that instant, the last of my delusions shatters. I finally realize that his germaphobia is selective, and I'm simply the one he can't bear to touch. Instead of making a fuss, I slip off the ring I've worn for five years and walk into the storm without looking back. Later, I hear he tries to win me back with the most expensive roses in the city. But the Kyna Lupen who loves him is long gone.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Janine Swettenham, returned to the pack, alone and heavily pregnant. To protect her reputation, Aiden Monroe decided to mark her. I asked him in disbelief, "What about me? What about our baby?" He just shrugged and said, "Janine’s not like you. I’m the only family she has left. She can’t handle the gossip. Just wait for me. Once she has the baby, I’ll mark you." However, Aiden forgot that I don’t have any family either. While the entire pack mocked and slandered me for being pregnant out of wedlock, Aiden was by Janine’s side, holding her hand through every hospital visit. That’s when I finally understood that some favoritism didn’t need a reason. I left in fury. Then, the accident happened. I lost the baby. Broken and numb, I chose to walk away from it all. I left both him and the pack, vanishing from his world completely. Five years later, I returned, accompanying my mate on a business trip to the Silverglade Pack. Craving the taste of old memories, I went to the pack restaurant alone. I never expected to run into Aiden again. He looked at me with that same cold gaze and said, "You’ve caused enough trouble, haven’t you? The kid must be four by now. Bring him back. He can grow up alongside Janine’s child."

"We are not meant for each other, cause you're not mine and I'm not yours to begin with."- Kseniya "I can surrender everything just for you to be mine. I can do destruction to the heaven and underworld to let them know that your mine to begin with."- UNKNOWN

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."