Karma Grips Novels & Stories

My Alpha mate thought I didn't know he had two half-breed Omega pups with his Omega mistress, but I had discovered his secret long ago. I threatened him to break up with his mistress, otherwise I would hide their child and make him regret it forever. But I had done absolutely nothing, their pups disappeared. He locked me in a silver cage and even made me watch my son being abused to interrogate me about the whereabouts of their pups. But when my son really died, I completely gave up and left. The powerful Alpha collapsed.

In the split second when the research lab explodes, my boyfriend, Thomas Bastion, dashes to Melody Harper, who is standing furthest from the blast zone. He shields her from the impact with his own body. When the sounds of the explosion stop, the first thing he does is carry Melody to the hospital. I'm lying on the floor. My body is covered in fresh blood, but he doesn't spare a single glance at me. Thomas has taken care of Melody for the past 18 years. His heart is filled with nothing but her. There's no space for anyone else. I only survived because my colleagues rushed me to the hospital. When I am discharged from the ICU, I call my teacher, Louis Carpenter. Both my eyes are swollen from how much I've been crying. "Mr. Carpenter, I've made up my mind. I'm willing to join you for the confidential research. It's fine if we have to leave in one month. I don't care that I'll be unable to contact anyone for the next five years." The wedding ceremony that I have been dreaming of is supposed to take place in a month's time. However, I no longer want to get married.

"Sorry, Chloe. I really have an emergency!" After ten years of dating, my Alpha mate, Aiden Rothschild, made yet another excuse about handling pack affairs and left halfway through our candlelit dinner. Then, I saw a post by Aiden’s childhood sweetheart, Lana, on social media. In the photo, Aiden was gently holding her foot. [Twisted my ankle a little while cleaning the roof. It got better quickly, but Aiden still rushed over the moment he heard. No matter when I need you, you're always there. That's the reason I feel more blessed than any other woman!] In the past, I would’ve definitely confronted Aiden in anger, only to be scolded for being unreasonable. This time, though, I numbly finished my own meal in silence. I had promised my mentor I would soon leave for a secluded healing assignment in the Northern Territory. It wasn’t until I got in the car to leave the pack and tried to say goodbye to Aiden one last time that I received a video from Lana. It was her and Aiden playing Truth or Dare, calling each other "baby". I wiped away my tears and simply replied, "As long as you’re having fun." However, Aiden panicked. His eyes were red as he messaged me: [Chloe, why aren’t you even mad after seeing that? Do you even love me anymore?!] He tried to confront me in person, only to realize he couldn’t find me anywhere. That day, he completely broke down.

On my twentieth birthday, my parents placed a stack of photos in front of me—eligible bachelors from elite families all over the country—and told me to pick one for an arranged marriage. I told my dad to leave it to fate and draw lots. In my past life, I had chosen without hesitation the man I’d long admired: Lucas Whitmore, the most eligible bachelor of Astor Hill's elites. But after we got married, I found out the truth. His first love—the girl he had always held dear, Claire Monroe—was devastated by our marriage. One night, heartbroken, she went out drinking and was assaulted by a group of thugs. Claire attempted suicide three times after that. And Lucas blamed it all on me. He handed over my family’s fortune to Claire, draining every last cent from the Meyers. In the end, Lucas even helped her cut the brake lines on our car. My parents and I died in that crash. Now that I’d been given a second chance at life, the name I drew was Liam Morgan—the reclusive heir from Orchard Valley, known for shunning the world and dedicating himself to Buddhism. But when I showed up arm-in-arm with Liam at our engagement party, Lucas lost his mind.

I'm at the supermarket when an old woman I don't know suddenly grips my hand tightly. I instinctively shield my baby bump, but she says, "Someone has placed a swap spell on you. The dead baby is about to be transferred to your body soon." I think she's a liar, but she says, "Hurry up and try to make yourself vomit. You should try to throw up as much of that fish you just ate as you can."

Karma led them to each other, it is now up to them if they'll use it to their advantage. Anna Miller had been hurting for years, she didn't know how and why it happened, but it just did. Will destiny heal her or break her more?

The morning after their night together, Harper Sullivan froze with a sudden, sickening realization—Ryan Delgado hadn't used protection. Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and suffocating. But Ryan just smirked, his voice smooth, teasing, as if this were some kind of game. "Our families are enemies. A baby changes that. Your father would have to accept me. Then I could marry you—properly." Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have pushed him away, should have demanded answers—but his touch still burned through her resistance, and she gave in to him. Then, like a knife to the ribs, she heard his friend's voice from the next room, laced with cruel amusement. "Ryan, that's genius. Get her pregnant, then dump her. Harper would never recover from the scandal. And her family? Total disgrace." Ryan let out a cold, satisfied laugh. "Serves her right. She stole Olivia's spot as valedictorian, broke her heart, drove her overseas. I'll make sure she pays—this is for Olivia." Harper's body went rigid. Three years. Three years of stolen moments, swallowed secrets, letting him touch her in the dark while her family believed her loyal. And it had all been a lie. Rage and humiliation crashed over her, so violent she nearly choked on it. Her phone buzzed in her trembling hand. Fighting back tears, she answered. "Dad… I'll take the engagement."

“Miss Green, the results show that you have late-stage pancreatic cancer. The situation isn’t good for you. If you give up on treatment, you might have less than a month left. Are you sure you don’t want to receive treatment? Will your husband agree to it?” “I’m sure that… he will.” After I hung up, I surveyed the empty house and felt sadness fill every fiber of my heart. I had thought that the pain I felt was due to my dear old friend, gastritis, but it was cancer. I sighed and looked at the picture on the table. The eighteen-year-old Zach Stone stared at me in the photo. It had been years since, but I still remembered how the snow had fallen on my hair. At that time, Zach had smiled and asked whether this counted as us growing old together.

As the older brother, I agreed to marry a dead woman just to get the five hundred thousand dollars for my younger brother to get married. My younger brother insisted that the middle-aged couple, who had lost their daughter, only wanted their daughter to experience being married before her death. My girlfriend also persuaded me to do it. She said I just needed to lie in the same bed as her for one night and do nothing. I nodded and agreed. But when I got to that family’s house, the parents pulled out a white bedsheet and handed it to me. “You have to actually be intimate with my daughter. Otherwise, I won’t pay you a single cent.”

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"