Mistress

On our fifth anniversary, I came across the Instagram page of a stranger named Serena Reed. The girl lay sideways on a hospital bed, her bandage-wrapped hand intertwined with a man's larger hand. On the man's ring finger was a moonstone ring, with Vincent Carter's name and my own name clearly engraved on the band. Below the photo, the girl had written: "It's just a tiny scratch, but he was so worried he insisted I stay in the hospital. Being loved like this feels incredible!" An hour earlier, Vincent had apologized to me over the phone. "Nina, there's an urgent matter with the patrol team. Don't wait for me for dinner. When I come back, I'll bring you a gift." He was not coming home for our anniversary because he was with another woman. I silently melted down the moonstone ring and sent it to Vincent as a gift. Then I packed all my belongings, including the pup in my womb, and left the Shadow pack quietly, never to return.

On the tenth day after I perished in the avalanche, my husband finally remembered me. His first love was suffering from aplastic anemia and urgently needed a bone marrow transplant—one that only I could provide. He came home holding a donation consent form, ready for me to sign, only to find the house empty. Kelly leaned weakly against him. "Vanessa must really hate me. She doesn't want to donate her bone marrow, so she ran away on purpose, didn't she?" "Maybe we should just forget it," she sighed. "I can hold on a little longer." Caden gently comforted her, his heart aching. "I won't let anything happen to you." "It's just a bone marrow donation. It's not like she'll die from it." Then he pulled out his phone and sent me a message: [No matter where you are, come back immediately and sign the donation consent form.] [Don't be so selfish! Kelly is seriously ill. If she doesn't get a transplant soon, she'll die. It's just bone marrow—I'm not asking for your life!] [If you keep refusing, I'll stop paying for your mother's medical bills!] Caden… I died the moment you walked away from the ski resort with Kelly. The avalanche buried me and our unborn child beneath the snow. My mother, in her desperate attempt to save me, was torn apart by wild wolves. How could you not know?

Without my knowledge, Aileen—the daughter of Carlson Green’s first love—secretly lured my five-year-old daughter, Lena, deep into the Wolfsbane Forest. She told Lena there was treasure hidden in the forest. When a distress signal came from the forest, I rushed there with Carlson and the rescue team. The wolfsbane's poison spread silently, making it harder for Lena to breathe. She lay weak in the grass, her face pale, her heartbeat slowing down. Aileen, meanwhile, was sprawled on the path beside the wolfsbane. She only had a few scratches on her knees, but she was crying loudly. "Help me! It hurts so much!" I thought Carlson, the Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack and Lena’s father, would run into the forest to check on his own daughter. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent down, scooped Aileen into his arms, comforting her with care. His eyes were full of worry. "It’s okay now, Daddy’s here." I ran forward, my voice shaking. "Carlson! Lena is still in the wolfsbane grass! I can feel her breathing fading! Come with me to find her!" He only said calmly, "Lena is wearing my Moonstone Crystal. It protects her from wolfsbane. She will be fine. Aileen needs care and treatment more." The rescue vehicle left, taking Aileen and Carlson with it. I ran into the wolfsbane field and found Lena. She weakly tugged my hand. "Mom, don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt at all." "Daddy will come save me after he saves Aileen." Then she closed her eyes. And never breathed again. Even on the day of her funeral, Lena never got to see her father come to save her. Carlson Green, a life for a life. You, Aileen, and her mother will pay back everything you did to Lena—I’ll make you repay it a thousand times over.

My wife cheated on me—with my cousin. The three of us were headed to sign divorce papers when bam—car crash. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we got our marriage license. This time, no fights, no drama. We both knew it was over. She ditched me for Jason fast and skipped the country with him. I stayed behind, buried in law books and case files. Five years later, she was famous—thanks to Jason pulling strings. Concerts, cash, fans screaming her name. Me? Still grinding at a law firm, backing folks who needed real legal help. Then came the family reunion. She showed up on Jason's arm, smug and shining, throwing shade like it was sport. But when I mentioned I was settling down with someone else? Her face snapped. "I made one dumb mistake! How DARE you move on?!"

After my wife tortured me for the 98th time for Hudson Langdon, I gave up all hope and accepted her bestie, Mona Sachman, as my girlfriend. After a night of passion with Mona, she promised to help fake my death and we would get married overseas using a new identity. However, I woke up earlier than expected inside the coffin after taking the suspended animation drug Mona gave me. I was unable to move, but I could hear Mona talking to someone outside the coffin. "Miss Sachman, you've gained Sean Langdon's trust by instigating Sheila Edwards to torture him and pretending to save him after that. Why do you need to arrange for him to fake his death and bury him?" "That's the only way for the Langdons to believe that he had truly died, and for Hudson to secure his position as their heir. No one would ever mention that he is an illegitimate son after that." The other person asked after some slight hesitation, "Isn't it a little too long to wait seven days to dig him out of the coffin after you and Hudson Langdon get married?" "The drug is effective for five days. I've already gotten someone to put food, water, and an oxygen canister into the coffin for him. He won't die so easily."

Sylvia Frost and Victor Rothwell's wedding had been postponed 33 times. This time, it happened on the night before the ceremony. She was struck by a car and left with 19 broken bones. She was rushed to the ICU three separate times before her condition finally stabilized. Once she was strong enough to leave her bed, she braced herself against the wall and shuffled into the hallway. As she reached the corner, she overheard her fiancé speaking with a friend. "Last time it was drowning. This time you used a car. That gets you another two months. What are you going to do next?" Sylvia's blood turned to ice. Victor stood there in his white coat, his phone turning slowly in his hand. "No more delays." His voice remained flat.

On the seventh year of our anniversary, the anniversary gift my husband, Anthony Walker, has given me is a divorce agreement that is valid for seven days. He has planned all this just because he has his eye on a female intern in his company, who is seven years younger than him. So, he wants to be in a legitimate relationship with her that only lasts for seven days. On the first day, they reserve an entire cinema for themselves. After that, they make love to each other from the doorway to the seats. On the second day, they set off fireworks at the beach. The fireworks are so bright that half of the city is illuminated by them. On the fifth day, the intern, Tanya Lindt, barges into my art exhibition. With tears running down her face, she accuses me of being the side chick in her relationship in front of the mass media. That night, news of a rising female painter becoming a homewrecker for the sake of love goes viral. More than 100 thousand malicious comments directed at me are posted in the comment section. On the sixth day, Anthony apologizes to me on Tanya's behalf. Apparently, the punishment he has set for her is that she's not allowed to go shopping for three days. On the seventh day, Anthony finally realizes that something is wrong. He calls me 99 times just to remind me that we'll get remarried the next day. "Okay," I say to him. Then, I inform my assistant to check in my baggage. What Anthony doesn't know is that I already came up with a plan to further my studies overseas seven days ago. This time, I'm not going to waste my time on him anymore.

I give up being with my family and follow my boyfriend, Leon Burton, to a research institute in the harsh land of Aetheris, just to take care of him. One day, he discovers an asteroid. According to the law in our country, the person who discovers an asteroid holds the right to name it. Without even stopping to think, he says, "I'll name it Phoebe." Everyone is stunned. Naming an asteroid is a significant event, but Leon makes his decision too hastily. The person in charge asked again, "Are you sure you want to name it that?" Leon nods without hesitation. Standing in a corner where no one can see me, I can't stop crying. Only I knew that "Phoebe" is the name of his first love, Phoebe Jones. Wiping away my tears, I call my mother. "Mom, I've decided to marry Nathan. I'm leaving Aetheris."

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."