Kamado Family

After ten years as the Ghost Wolf, I finally learn that I am actually the Alpha's eldest daughter of the Blue Moon Pack. When I return home this time, I make no effort to rebuild bonds with my parents. They choose to hand the family succession to my younger sister, Tatiana Truss, so I volunteer to leave for the Northern Werewolf University. They let her steal my fiance, so I end the engagement myself and give them what they want. In my previous life, I spent my entire life chasing love, only to end up despised by everyone. My mate resented me for not breaking the engagement sooner to bless him and Tatiana. Even my own pup frowned at me on my deathbed and said, "Mom, stop fighting with Aunt Tatiana. She compromised for you her whole life. Now that you're leaving, give everything back to her." I died full of regret. I regret losing myself just to win their affection. So in this life, I refuse to fight. I let everyone have their perfect ending, while I finally chase a future that belongs to me.

After being pushed down the stairs by my husband's first love, I suffered a difficult labor with our second child and died in a corner of their family's private hospital. Before I died, my six-year-old son cried and begged for his father to save me. The first time, Shawn sneered. "Your mom's gotten smarter, using you to play the victim and trick people." After that, he flung my son's hand away and left heartlessly. The second time, my son told him I was bleeding uncontrollably. Shawn was clearly impatient. "She's being so dramatic, it's just a miscarriage, nothing serious. She's always made mountains out of molehills!" After chasing my son away, he even told the doctors not to care for me. "It's my fault for spoiling her. She'll know what she did wrong once I let her have a hard time for a few days." The last time, my son went to my husband's first love Jasmine, kneeling in front of her and knocking his head on the ground, begging her. Shawn flew into a rage and ordered bodyguards to throw my battered and bruised son out of the hospital room, allowing others to laugh at his misfortune. "If you come bother Jasmine while she's resting again, I'll kick your mom out of our family! She'll never see you again!" My son crawled to my side, leaving behind a long trail of blood. And so, I laid there helplessly as I felt the warmth escape both my son and I. 'Are you happy now, Shawn? You'll never see us again.'

Cailen has only one wish. To have a family he could belong to and a home to call his. ***** At thirteen, Cailen had been to different foster homes, each of them returning him for one reason or another. His heart had already taken so much rejection that hopelessness had set in, giving up on himself and shutting down, that even when a family does welcome him and love him, he still has his doubts. When Cailen returns from University to visit his family, he finds himself struggling to keep a secret that he knows will make him lose the only home and family that he has. Will Cailen lose himself? Or will he lose his family?

I'm Alpha Bruce Smith's most docile and understanding daughter. In fact, I'm the type who obeys literally anyone's orders. When my parents pick me up at the Rogues' den and take me back to the pack, my adopted younger sister, Andrea Smith, begins making fun of me. "I thought the Rogues killed you for sure! I never thought you'd be able to return to the pack, safe and sound! You really are lucky! Why can't you just die already?" With hollow eyes, I just nod quietly. Then, I extend a claw and move to stab myself in the neck without hesitation. My parents are terrified out of their wits. They quickly stop me from hurting myself. But my older brother, Tobias Smith, remains impassive about my condition. "You really love attention that much, huh? What makes you think you can still remain my sister, anyway? You might as well drink some wolfsbane and die!" That night, I grab a bottle of poison and down it immediately. Tobias discovers me afterward. He whisks me to the hospital anxiously. When the doctor tells him that I'd die if he were two minutes later in discovering me, Tobias' complexion turns pale. Some time after that, when Andrea snatches my necklace from me, she loses her balance and falls down the stairs. Her fiance points at me while exclaiming, "It's just a necklace! If anything were to happen to Andrea, you'd better pay the price with your life!" Pay the price with my life, huh? I don't hesitate to draw the silver sword out of its hilt on the wall. Then, I slash my throat with it. My parents happen to witness it. Shell-shocked, they scream at the top of their lungs. "Call an ambulance! Hurry!" Tobias tries to stem the blood flow with trembling hands. He's completely stunned by the ordeal. What everyone doesn't know is that they've been calling me a lowlife during my five-year stay in the Rogues' den. Even if I could live 100 times over, those lives are nothing compared to Andrea. Even if I gave my life, it would never be enough—because to them, my life was never worth anything in the first place.

My mother marries into the Patterson family with me after her divorce. She marries Thomas Patterson, the dean of a veterinary hospital. Meanwhile, I marry Walter Patterson, a firefighter captain and Thomas' son. On this day, there's a huge storm. I'm almost due for labor, but I still head to the hospital to pick my mother up after an operation. We head to the subway, but it ends up being flooded. I endure the labor contractions and call Walter with trembling hands, wanting to ask for help. He finally answers after hanging up on me 18 times. "What the hell do you want? How stupid can you be, calling me in such a huge storm? "I'm saving lives here! Tracy's foot was cut by glass while being saved, and I've just bandaged her wound. Now, I have to take her dog to Dad's hospital so he can save it. The dog is hanging by a thread; if you need help, get some other firefighter to do it! Don't pester me!" Later, the rescue team arrives. My mother and I are pushed to the back of the crowd, and people won't stop shoving us around. The floodwater rises, and I have no choice but to carry her on my back while trudging along the corridor. This continues for three hours. When we're finally rescued, my mother is already unconscious, and I end up losing my child, who's almost to term. My mother and I look at each other tearfully in the ward we share. I say, "Mom, I'm getting a divorce." She says, "It's not a big deal, sweetheart. I'll do it with you. I've done it once before—I know how this goes."

My husband has slept around thousands of times, yet he has never agreed to a divorce. His family calls me a low-class nobody who's unfit to be seen. Five years ago, the first time I asked for a divorce, Hugo Hudson said nothing. He simply locked me inside the villa for a full month. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. Three years ago, I brought it up again. That very night, Hugo returned to his family's estate. Soon after, I was granted the right to see my child once a week. Today is the third time. And this time, I can finally leave. Because I've realized something at last: my child doesn't love me, and my marriage was never real to begin with. I'm no different from the women he keeps outside. When we met again later, Hugo's eyes reddened the instant he saw me.

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.

I was growing up as the much-hated "fake heiress" in a wealthy family, and my life took a devastating turn after my death. My childhood friend who lived next door leaked my nudes online, branding me as manipulative and promiscuous. This ignited public outrage, with strangers celebrating my demise at my family's home. My parents, eager to sever any connection with me, destroyed our mansion that very night, even going so far as to feed my ashes to the dog. Everyone said I deserved it. On the day the true heiress married my childhood friend in a grand, live-streamed wedding, I gave them a unique wedding present from beyond the grave.

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.