Mahouka Koukou No Rettousei Read

In my third year of marriage, Victor Lyon, the most prominent man in Sagedale's elite circle as well as my husband, goes viral on the Internet once again. This time, it's because he has decided to throw a grand wedding to be with Carol Braun, the low-income student he has been sponsoring. I don't kick up a fuss, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even have someone send them my wishes. Because of that, the rich wives of Sagedale's elite circle view me as a complete joke. After the wedding, Victor explains to me, "Carol's grandpa is very ill. His death wish is to see her marry a good man. I was just acting with her the whole time, Lilian. Don't take it to heart." I just smile and nod. "Yeah, I believe you." In my previous life, I had demanded explanations from Victor hysterically. But in return, he screwed over my parents' company to the point that they were forced to jump off a building by debtors. I got my legs broken before I got thrown into a mental asylum that tortured me endlessly. Thank goodness God took pity on me, for He gave me another chance in life. This time, I no longer want Victor's love. I just want his wealth. When he's busy going on a honeymoon with Carol, I secretly have his assets transferred under my name. When Victor's attending prenatal checkups with Carol, I trick him into signing a share-transfer agreement. Whenever he betrays me, I'll take some of his assets away. Once Victor betrays me three more times, he won't have anything under his name.

My husband, Gideon Huber, is a self-righteous hypocrite. He used my money to fund an impoverished student's education fees, forced me to donate my kidney to a homeless man, and even gave my newborn to a human trafficker. Now that I'm reborn, I finally found out why Gideon had done all those things to me in my past life. Apparently, he was bound to the virtue system in my past life. This time, the system has chosen me as its host. Well then, Gideon, please enjoy the feats of "justice" I shall perform on you!

My husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket. However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary. She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten." My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together. I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!" She visibly panics.

For six years, I took bullets for him and erased every sharp edge of myself. Because of the way he protected me, outsiders all believed I was the woman closest to his heart. However, when I asked for just one sincere “I love you”, he laughed and refused. “Mafia marriages aren’t about feelings. Know your place.” Then he said, “If Sophia doesn’t like it, don’t even bother.” When the bomb countdown hit thirty seconds, my don husband shoved me aside without hesitation and ran out holding Sophia in his arms. Only then did I understand that after six years of entanglement, I wasn't even worth a single hair of his sister. I slammed the divorce papers into his face. “I’m going to personally send you and your precious sister straight to hell!”

I pushed the door open and saw Giovanna standing there in my silk robe—my gift from Enzo—and wearing my heirloom pendant. She lifted a brow and mocked me, “The robe fits, the pendant’s mine, and you—get out.” I grabbed Enzo, demanding an explanation, but he shoved a fake contract in my face, saying, “You signed it.” “I did not. Stop lying!” I snapped. He snapped at me, “This is family business. You know nothing.” It seemed three years together was nothing but an act. That very night, I ran away to Milan. I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to until Mark showed up out of nowhere. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I’ve got you. As long as I’m around, no one touches you.” He protected me, and for a moment, I really thought I’d finally found someone I could rely on. However, when we were practicing at the shooting range later, I stared at him. “Why are you helping me?” I asked. “And don’t tell me it’s because of that mess I left behind.” His eyes flickered for a second before he answered, “Just trust me. That’s all you need to do.” Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist. This whole disaster was all one giant setup. And now here I am, gripping a gun, fighting for justice, but am I really avenging myself? Or was I already someone else’s pawn from the very beginning?

On my birthday, Hazel Mosley posts about preparing a surprise for me that night on social media. However, I see a photo of her taken that afternoon. She is riding a horse with her assistant, Cecil Wilcox. In the photo, her clothes are fluttering, revealing red finger marks on her waist. Cecil's caption read, "My first ever experience is thanks to her." The comments section is full of teasing remarks. "You've got bold intentions, young man." "That position is hard to maneuver." Unbelievably, Hazel likes that comment. My heart sinks to my stomach. I always think she's just more open with me, but I never expect that it could be anyone. I personally wash the horse to wipe away every trace of intimacy. Then, I transfer the entire ranch to her. "You can give the rest of the horses to whoever you want. Feel free to pick." Looking at how overjoyed she is, I agree to the marriage arranged by my family.

My wife, Wendy Sinclair, has a severe sleepwalking disorder. After she falls asleep, she always wanders out in a state of unconsciousness. The night before our wedding, she disappears without a word. I have no choice but to postpone our wedding. Only then does she walk out of her childhood friend's house next door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Afraid I might overthink, she cries and apologizes to me. "There's no cure for my condition. From now on, just tie me up when I sleep, okay?" I feel sorry for her, so I just change the door lock to make sure she cannot go out. But in the middle of the night, I wake up and see her standing on the edge of the balcony. She climbs in through the window and goes into her childhood friend's house again. Soon, suggestive and intimate sounds come from inside. My blood runs cold. Her sleepwalking isn't an illness at all—it is out of love.

Three years ago, Swelina Lott, the mate of Holden Grant, my older brother, had read my diary out loud in front of everyone at the ceremony. Holden, who was also the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, was enraged after hearing the contents. He personally locked me up in the juvenile wolf prison afterward. After all, my diary was filled with entries proclaiming my love and adoration for him. What Holden doesn't know is that the wardens used all sorts of violent punishments on me in order to correct my behavior. As a result, I lost my wolf there. Today is the day I regain my freedom. Holden and Swelina are already waiting for me at the prison gate. The latter even has a sweet smile plastered on her face. "You're finally released, Anria. Holden and I miss you terribly." Meanwhile, Holden just looks at my skeletal frame while saying icily, "Swelina is already pregnant with my pup. That makes her the future Luna of the Silvermoon pack. I hope that you can make peace with her. "If I hear anything about you fantasizing about me again, I don't mind sending you back to this very prison." Upon hearing his threat, I sink down to my knees instantly. My body starts trembling uncontrollably at the same time. Already, I can feel warm liquid seeping through my pants. I won't do that anymore, Holden. Right now, the only thing I want to do is to stay far, far away from you. The further, the better.

A few weeks before our wedding, Rodney Luther's stepmother, Jessica Flaine, posts a photo on her social media. In the photo, she's wearing the wedding dress I picked out, holding a bouquet of red roses, and shyly leaning toward Rodney, asking for a kiss. The caption reads—"Dreams fulfilled." I don't call Rodney in tears or throw a fit like I used to. I simply like the post and leave a comment. "Screenshot sent to Rodney's father." Not long after, Jessica deletes the post, and Rodney's phone call follows immediately. "Ivana, you're being so petty! The rest of my days belong to you. It's only today that I'm fulfilling a small dream of Jessica's. Hurry up and explain things to my dad! "Come on, be good. I've got a gift for you." A scoff escapes me. "Rodney, do you hear me clearly? Go explain it to your father yourself!"

He is the unchallenged Alpha of the Shadow pack. He crushes my hand, lets his true love drive me to the brink, and forces me to lick wolfsbane from my wounds in the punishment chamber, turning me into the pack's laughingstock. I am the Lunar pack's pawn in a political bonding. After enduring three years of humiliation and clutching enemy intelligence, I overturn his throne during the Moon Ceremony, making him watch helplessly as his beloved betrays him and his pack descends into chaos. Later, he backs down. He abdicates as Alpha and gets down on his knees at the pack's border every day, his voice hoarse from shouting, "I was wrong." I hold a blood-stained dagger, my gaze icy as I say, "Your regret is deadlier than wolfsbane and worth even less than my life." Our bonding is a calculated trap, and revenge is the move I am determined to play. Winning him back no longer matters. This time, I am not turning back. I want nothing but his endless remorse and the chance to break my chains and begin a new life.