Melissa Croft

They wanted to choose my husband so I bought one instead. ~~~ " You'll be meeting your soon-to-be husband at the next family dinner." Aunt Melissa's words hit like poison. I choked, shock seizing my breath. Family dinners at my grandparents' estate were always hell- ear-shattering arguments, insults wrapped in concern, smiles hiding knives. But this? This crossed every line. Who the hell do they think they were, choosing my husband like I was some pawn in their twisted game? That's never going to happen. I built my Empire from the ruins of my inheritance and survived the accident that claimed my parents' lives. Survived Sophie's lifetime of cruelty always my shadow, so desperate to eclipse me. I didn't survive all that to let them control who I marry. ~~~ Then I saw him. David Kane. Six foot three of breathtaking perfection, commanding my manufacturing floor like he was born for it. Dark hair, ice blue eyes, and a body that made me forget to breathe. The branch manager's son. Nobody important. That was perfect. If my family wants to force a husband on me I'd bring them one on my own terms. They forgot who I am. I am Sophia Ashford. I don't play by their rules and am about to make the most dangerous deal of my life.

When my best friend and I realized we had been reborn and traveled back several decades, we locked eyes, collapsed into each other's arms, and sobbed, shouting that we wanted to break off our engagements. The entire neighborhood whispered that we had lost our minds. But only we knew the truth. In our past lives, this was the day everything was sealed: she married a battalion commander, Ned Stark, and I became the wife of a high school teacher, Robbie Stark. My husband betrayed me. For the sake of that pretentious whore, Scarlett Wheaton, he stole my university admission letter and let her take my place on campus. The world mocked me as a failure, and Robbie stood by in silence. After we married, every time he touched me, he would immediately write another love letter to Scarlett—atoning for his supposed guilt. "Scarlett, even if I can't be with you in this life, my soul will always belong to you alone." Even my own child despised me, calling me an ignorant village woman, urging me again and again to divorce so that his father could be with his "true love," Scarlett. And my best friend, Rachel Croft—born the daughter of a factory director—was tricked by her husband, Ned, under the pretense of buying a house. He drained her savings and her wages for twenty long years. It wasn't until she fell gravely ill and went to sell the house that she discovered the deed he had given her was a forgery. The real house—the one paid in full—was in Scarlett's name. One of Scarlett's dresses cost more than my friend's entire monthly salary. When Rachel begged to reclaim what rightfully belonged to her, she was met only with contempt from Ned and her child. "All you ever care about is money. You're nothing like Scarlett, who isn't materialistic at all. Your illness is retribution," Ned had said. "Exactly. Only someone as noble and kind as Scarlett deserves to be my mother!" her child had said. Rachel and I both spent our lives working ourselves to the bone, only to end with nothing—dying bitter and broken from the injustice. But this time, fate has given us another chance. I will go to university. Rachel will become a wealthy woman. This time, without us paving the way, those shameless men and that wretched woman think they can still live happily ever after? Dream on.

Alpha Jax Blackwood discovers his destined mate in Lola, an ordinary human girl with an extraordinary twist. Lola is soon forced to leave the town she tried to call home. However, Jax, driven by the primal need to claim his mate and secure his Alpha title, intervenes, claiming Lola as his own against her wishes. Trapped in a world she never imagined, Lola must navigate the dangers posed by both the man to whom she’s linked and Jax's mischievous cousin, Alpha Ash, who harbors a dangerous fascination for her. As the battle for Lola's safety intensifies, Jax faces the challenge of fending off growing threats and keeping his cousin at bay, all while convincing Lola to stay by his side. "I'll give you two choices," Ash humored, taking a step, "Chase after your friend or leave, start anew somewhere else away from all the crazy." He grinned mischievously. "You were letting her go, weren't you?" he stated, eyeing Jax. Jax tensed, fists clenching at his sides. "What's your call, little one?" Ash pressed. Lola envisioned Melissa's reaction, then glanced at the bag near her feet. She picked it up, feeling the cold leather wrap around her shoulder. Ash cheered as the choice was made, and Jax seethed. As Lola moved towards the door, Ash intercepted and gazed in amusement. "There's one little thing," he said leaning in "I lied," he whispered, snatching the bag from her hands as Jax restrained her from behind. "What are you doing?" Lola protested, trying to create distance. Ash ignored her, relishing her discomfort. "You don't get to choose," he declared, ripping the bag from her hands as Jax covered her mouth.

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"