Lil Miss Rarity

I'm a wedding dress designer, and one day before the finals of the Bridal Queen Tournament, explicit photos of me are posted all over the internet. Countless people accuse me of defiling the concept of love. They say I don't deserve to make wedding dresses, and in the end, I'm disqualified from the tournament. The photos can only come from one person—my boyfriend, Felix Evans. On the verge of a breakdown, I seek him out for answers. But right before I walk through the door, I hear him having a conversation with his twin, Leon Evans. "As expected, the netizens sank their teeth into Dahlia the moment the photos were posted online. I'm guessing that she's going to be blacklisted by the entire fashion industry too. There's no way she can compete against Sylvia for the title of Bridal Queen anymore." "Does this mean I can't pretend to be you and sleep with her anymore? Truth be told, she's pretty good in bed. She's pure, but she's also seductive." "You should take advantage of the situation and sleep with her as much as you want then. Once Sylvia wins the title of Bridal Queen, I'm going to cut ties with Dahlia completely and officially pursue Sylvia." Listening to their casual conversation, I feel like a sharp blade is being ruthlessly stabbed into my heart. I don't know how I got home. After sitting in a daze the entire night, I call a studio overseas and tell them, "I'll be joining you in three days."

The year I was at my lowest, a wealthy family came for me, claiming I was their real son. The school beauty I had secretly admired was officially my fiancée. While I was still stunned by the surprise, suddenly, comments started scrolling across my view. [This is the turning point. The male lead’s parents take the supporting male home, forcing him to drop out. His fiancée gets him sick, and in the end, they see him as bad luck and brutally kill him.] My hand froze around the paternity test report. My father’s eyes glistened with tears as he took the report from me. “My child, you’ve suffered so much all these years. Don’t worry, come home with us and rest. You’re our son, and the family company is enough to support you for life. You don’t even need to take the SATs.” The school beauty lowered her head, her voice soft and teasing in my ear. “Levi, be good. Studying is too hard. From now on, I’ll take care of you.”

My name is Brandon Westin, and I'm Carlisle Grayson's secretary and secret lover. No matter how cold he acts toward me, how much he humiliates me, or how often he "lends" me off to other people, I still choose to stick with him without any remorse or complaints. His friends call me a shameless lapdog. Carlisle calls me a twink, often blaming me for "turning him gay" and thus ruining his life. However, when I finally choose to leave him, he looks at me with red-rimmed eyes and asks, "How can you say that you don't love me?"

My boyfriend Orion was the leading hunter of the Bright Moon Pack, who was sent on an S-class mission three years ago. Before he left, he told me to wait for his return, after which he would mark me. Holding him to his promise, I waited for over a thousand days, and he eventually did come back. I was delighted, but just ten days after I blissfully prepared for the marking ceremony, I overheard him speaking with his fellow hunters. "Are you sure you're going to mark Elara? What about Dahlia and Emery? Especially Emery—the pup's two years old and looks just like you. There's no hiding it at all." "Hell, the whole thing about a secret mission was a farce, to cover up for you hanging around for Emery's birth. If Elara knew the truth…" Orion shot his deputy a sharp glare right then. "Just tell Dahlia to keep her mouth shut and hide the pup. Elara's the only one for me." Dahlia? The pup? As it turned out, in those three years I was worried sick for him, he had a pup with another woman. My knuckles clenched, I returned to my room and called my father. "Dad, I want to go home."

The Langston brothers once vowed that they wouldn't marry anyone but me. However, when it's time for me to pick one of them as my husband, they both turn me down. Nigel says, "My career is my priority. I'm not considering marriage at the moment." Shawn says, "Sorry, but I haven't had enough fun yet." Shortly after, they make my asthma act up during my engagement party just so they can please their new princess. As I writhe from the lack of oxygen, they cover her eyes so she won't see. They also mock me, saying I won't die from this. That kills me inside. When I wake up in the hospital, I call my father. "I'll marry the heir of the Blackwell family."

“I’ve made up my mind, I’m going to leave the Emersons and move overseas to live with you.” Cecil Miller’s aunt, Dianne Miller, was thrilled to hear this. She then thoughtfully advised Cecil. “Alright, Cecil, I'll help you with the immigration right away. It will take about a month so you should use this time to get together with your friends since it’s not very likely you’ll see them again once you come to Vinland. Make sure you say your goodbyes. “Don’t forget Cleo especially. He raised you since you were a kid, so you should thank him for everything he’s done for you.” Cecil gave Dianne her word. After hanging up, she left the balcony. As she was heading to the living room, she caught herself sneaking a glance at the picture set on the table.

Eight years into our bond, I spotted a child at the kindergarten who looked uncannily like Malcolm—my mate. Malcolm had told me he was away on a business trip. However then he was holding that child in his arms, gently coaxing him. "Be good, sweetheart. In a few days, I'll bring you and your mom home. You're my only child. I'll never abandon you." The child smiled, content and trusting. I stood hidden around the corner, unable to breathe from the pain gripping my chest. Eight years ago, I had taken a silver blade to the stomach to save Malcolm. I lost my wolf that day—and with it, the ability to ever carry a pup. Back then, Malcolm had sat beside my hospital bed and made a promise: "You are the only mate I will ever choose. Whether or not we have a pup doesn't change that." However, what I saw now felt like a brutal slap—a reality too sharp to ignore. What value would Luna have if she'd lost her wolf and could no longer bear heirs? How could I possibly compare to someone who could give him a child, and the pack, a future? Choking back the pain swelling in my chest, I picked up the phone and called my father. "Dad… would you still want a daughter who's lost her wolf?" His voice came through, steady and sure. "Of course. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

After our eighty-eighth canceled wedding, I called my business partner. "I'm taking the Haviana market project." There was a beat of stunned silence. "Seriously? That's ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren't you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything." I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. "There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They've got Cindy. That's all they need." Another pause. "Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow." After the call, I ran a hand down my wedding dress. One last tear slipped out, quiet and pointless. Cindy had another "episode" today. Claimed she'd off herself. Andrew canceled—again. I'd looked at him, drained. "It's the eighty-eighth time." He dropped his head, guilt all over him. "Just a little more time, Viv. She's been off since the accident. I'm scared she'll actually do it. I swear, I'll talk to her. For real this time. Then we'll get married. Promise." My parents didn't hesitate. "Vivian, let Andrew go. If Cindy hadn't gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn't have these breakdowns. Are you really putting a wedding over your sister's life?" "How could you be so selfish?" I'd heard it all before. Used to fight it. Not this time. If neither my fiancé nor my parents wanted me around, then fine. I'd leave.

As my due date approaches, my husband's precious mistress falls into the water at a banquet. After being rescued, she immediately accuses me of pushing her. To "avenge" her, he throws me into a modified stainless steel water tank. I beg him, pleading for the sake of our unborn children. But he only sneers. "Don't try to use the babies to guilt me! You've still got a week before you're due. I know exactly how vicious you are—any child of yours would be just as rotten. Stay in there and reflect on your behavior. I'll let you out when you finally admit you're wrong!" Five days later, my husband returns home from a night out with his mistress, calling for me to come downstairs and serve them, as always. He doesn't know that my babies and I have already rotted beyond recognition.

In the tenth year of my marriage to a genius pianist, I came down with a strange illness. A month ago, my husband missed my birthday party to care for his ailing sister-in-law. Night after night, I had waited for him to return home. But that night I forgot to wait at all and went to bed early. Half a month ago, he attended an important performance with his sister-in-law. I had always been petty and prone to jealousy, yet this time I didn't get angry. I simply went home in silence. Three days ago, I fell seriously ill with a burning fever. My husband rushed back from out of town in a panic—but only to tend to his sister-in-law, whose hand had been scalded. When we ran into each other at the hospital, I was strangely calm. I, who used to be fiercely jealous, felt nothing at all. I forgot the promise we had made to grow old together. I even forgot how he once fretted over me for days when I'd scraped a bit of skin. It wasn't until he said he wanted to bring his sister-in-law home and take care of her for the rest of his life that I—my memories riddled with holes—summoned the system at last. "I want to go home."