Left Them, Loved Myself

Arabella worked hard and was killed now in order to come back she must live lives to save other realms

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

Once, I was their princess. And then Kylee showed up. Having been in the foster system the majority of her childhood, my parents treated her like a charity case and gave her everything. At 13 years old, Kylee was adopted. Then the "accidents" started happening. Kylee would be walking past me and would suddenly fall over. "Oh, Mom! Sarah didn't mean it! Shes just having a hard time adjusting to her new sister!" Eventually, her little accusations turned into straight out bullying and, well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest. I did my best to ignore Kylee. I got a job as early as the law would allow. I saved my money. I got the best grades in school, becoming the class valedictorian. My parents didn't notice, though. They were too busy playing into Kylee's 5-year-long pity party. Don't worry, though. Soon I'll be gone to Harvard and you can have the happy family you wanted. I don't need you, anyways.

Ariella has been silent since she was four. Unable to talk after being abused by her sister. But her 18th birthday brings her wolf, healing, and freedom. She Escapes her abusive and neglectful home only to meet her Mates! Just when she feels her life about to begin, they reject her! When her second chance takes claim will she finally have the life she deserves will she forever be the neglected, rejected, and abused Princess of Werewolves!

I, Taylor Laurent, go to the hospital's emergency department because of severe abdominal pain. When I wake up, my mom, Jocelyn Nord, stares at me in terror and asks, "You are not my daughter. Who are you?" Helpless and regretful, Hank Gibson, the doctor, says to my mom, "She is your daughter, it's just… an accident." My mom can't accept it and jumps off the hospital building, killing herself instantly. Hank is suspended because of this incident and, under my questioning, chooses to kill himself by hitting a wall. When I finally find my life partner and take the premarital medical exam, the staff tells me something that chills me to my bones.

"I will be your mistress, Adrian. Just let my family live." Adrian lifted his glass of wine. A faint smile curved his lips. "I thought they would send me the adopted daughter," he said, "I didn't expect you." "Everyone said your brother spoiled you like a princess. Turns out that was just a joke." The tip of the pen paused, stabbing a small blot of ink onto the paper. I signed my name, calm to the point of silence. The contract would take effect in three days. Then, I would cut all ties with the Willis name. I traded myself for the survival of the Willis family and my own permanent release.

Never give up on things which you want. Sanchi Talwar mantra to move on from the things she had done in her past, made people cry and was a bitch to them. She was a girl which we see, the queen bitch of any school or college. But what about her story? What about when she seek redemption for her mistakes? She tries to move on by making herself tangle with her dreams. But what happens when you live in the world where a girl should get married soon? Dhruv Malhotra wants to start a new life, away from the mistakes he has made and live a life with a new smile. But little did he know what he was expecting was wrong when a piece of past was always with him. But what happens when he meet his best friend back who broke his heart and made him hate her?

Liam is a runaway, who is trying to make a better life away from his abusive family, and has to continue to run

"You must regret calling off our engagement, right?!" I smiled faintly as my ex-fiancé lifted his chin proudly. "I don't regret it one bit for throwing out trash like you." Ethan was stunned. He couldn't accept that I had the courage to confront him. His pride had also been trampled upon when I called him 'trash.' Ethan raised one hand, about to slap me. However, his hand was caught by a large, muscular hand. "Uncle Nathaniel?" Ethan was shocked. His knees suddenly went weak at his uncle's sharp, cold gaze. "Be polite to your aunt." Ethan's eyes widened. He was even more shocked when Nathaniel's hand moved from my waist and embraced me affectionately. Ethan couldn't believe it. The ex-fiancée he'd left was now his aunt?!

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.