Novel & Cerita My Heart I Surrender

One year had gone by since my husband got married to me. I went back to the company for a celebration party. I'd just taken my seat when a woman with a Cartier ring around her finger splashed a glass of red wine in my face. "That's the chairman's seat, you slut! Who are you? How dare you take his seat!" The guests surrounded me and grabbed my hands and feet. Someone even kicked me down to the ground. I held my fury back. "I'm the chairman's wife! Matthew Grayson is my husband!" The woman yanked my hair and sneered at me. "So, you're the bitch he's forced to marry. He's already generous enough, letting you marry him. You live on his money, and now you're trying to steal his place and be the boss. I know sluts like you know no shame! Guards, throw her out!" I laughed mirthlessly. The man who leeched off me thought he could call the shots now. Still, I kept my fury in check and called his number. "Hello, Matthew. Did you tell everyone I lived on your money and that you're the boss of the company?"

"Cool," she said, targeting my lips again but I dragged backward till I met a wall. The look of unreadiness and confusion dispersed around my gaze the more I tried to hide them. "umm...can we really do this here? I mean it's a classroom" I chuckled reluctantly. She stared into my eyes and her face told a lot. I didn't want to be that person just yet, I still wanted to spend more time with her. "fine, if you're not in the mood" she turned to go away. I couldn't stop my arm from holding her and dragging her close to me. I wish I could let her walk away. ********************************************** I met Zara first and she wasn't a twin wolf I picked up to have fun with. She was a human I wanted to have fun with. Even though she was a kind girl with a glistening beauty, I knew I would break her heart. No, that's what I thought until started to feel something deeper. I abandoned my task from the Luna and spent the weeks with her, playing football with humans in Mexico. The minute I thought to correct that, her twin sister, Clara showed up and worsen the scenario. Unlike Zara, Clara is a wolf and... my mate.

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

I spent five years pursuing Jaden Montgomery with every ounce of my strength. After my 100th confession, he finally went from being my best friend's brother to my fiancé. On a night with a full moon, as I stood there in my dress, ready for our mating ceremony, I overheard his conversation with a friend. "Jaden, are you really going to hold a mating ceremony with Arabella?" "Of course. Lillian's a fragile Omega carrying my pup, and my Alpha father is quite displeased about this situation. Holding the ceremony with Arabella will put his mind at ease." Jaden laughed carelessly. "Aren't you worried that Arabella will find out and go after your precious Omega? She's the princess of the Northern Silver Wolf Pack, after all." "She won't. She loves me to death and would never harm my pup. Besides, she's gentle and obedient. Making her my future Luna will ensure my precious Omega stays safe." My mind went blank. In my desperate flight from the scene, I accidentally wandered into a patch of wolfsbane. When I woke up, I remembered every wolf except Jaden. So, when my parents called to tell me to return for the arranged mating, I immediately arranged to leave in five days.

On the night I was supposed to mate with Alpha Lucien, the memories of my previous life came flooding back. In that life, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him all night. He was with his adoptive sister in another room, fucking her until dawn. He never wanted me. He just wanted Crimson Moon Pack's territory, and the hundreds of warriors my father left behind. The second year of our mating, I started coughing up blood every day. The pack healer told me I was weak, that my wolf was struggling, and I believed him. I drank the bitter herbal teas they brought me until I couldn't stand up anymore. That was when I finally understood. There was wolfsbane in those teas, the kind specifically used to poison an Alpha's blood. By the third year, my grandmother's emerald necklace, the modern art original that had been in my family for three generations had all ended up, one by one, in Vivienne's room. When I asked, Lucien said they were just borrowed. I let it go. After I died, every item on my mating gift inventory had been transferred to Vivienne. This time, on the same mating night, I tore the Luna crown off my head and threw it on the floor. In front of every guest in the hall, I said it clearly. "I reject you, Lucien Ashworth." Then I pointed at the adoptive sister cowering in the corner. "You wanted to be Luna? Take it. It's yours." I walked out of the pack house and held out my hand to the captive Alpha heir from the enemy pack. "Come with me. I'll help you take back Shadowfang Pack. You help me get my revenge."

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

I went abroad for three years to build a lab and save my husband's company from collapse. After endless struggles, I finally cracked the technical problems and developed the core technology. When I returned home with that breakthrough, I saw the airport video board plastered with the same impossible headline—my husband was getting married. I felt a hot, furious ache and took a taxi straight to the venue. … A woman who had cared for our household for years blocked me at the gate and sneered. "Who do you think you are, showing up at the Stone family's wedding? Get out of here, or I'll get security to throw you out." For a moment, I stood rooted, but then the bride appeared, walking out of the villa in a wedding gown. It was the woman Adrian Stone had once told me was dead—his first love, Evelyn Sutton. She wore my wedding ring on her finger and looked at me with pure contempt. "You want to make a scene at my wedding?" she said. "If you do, you're really asking for trouble. My husband, Adrian, won't hesitate to take care of you." I folded my arms and let out a cold laugh. "Adrian's getting married? Funny, I don't recall getting an invitation."

The impostor took his own life the day I married Cathy Jones. By the second year of our marriage, we had turned against each other completely because of him. She despised me because my return had driven Zac Lowe to his death. And I despised her for longing after the man who had stolen my name for twenty years. For a decade, we hurled the cruelest words and wished death upon each other until the earthquake came. She shielded me under her body and used her back to bear the weight of the collapsing beam to keep me alive. The ceiling fell. Blood and debris blurred together. As her life slipped away, she whispered in my ear, “If I had known he would die, I would have never brought you home. “If there’s another life, your only family should be me.” In the end, I still died in the aftershock. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day she first took me to meet my biological parents. But she suddenly changed her mind. “Harry, I was wrong! You’re not the son the Lowe family lost twenty years ago.”

On our anniversary, my husband, James Marshall, purchased a painting as a gift for me with my secondary credit card. When I got home, I went to my study to retrieve an urgent court document. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear the flirtatious voice of my assistant, Julie Summers, mingled with my husband’s low murmurs. “James, your wife is just a money-printing machine. What does she know about art? She could never appreciate you like I do.” James sighed. Then, in an indulgent tone, he said, “Claire is too perfect—so perfect it’s suffocating. Not like you, full of life and warmth.” Just then, my mother-in-law, Susan Marshall, called James. He put her on speakerphone. “James, you need to move faster. While Claire still trusts you, turn all her client contacts into yours. That Julie girl seems promising. She’s much easier to control than that iron-fisted career wife of yours.” I gripped the cold doorknob, listening to the pair of shameless lovers in the study and the wretched woman on the phone, and immediately drafted a divorce agreement. At the same time, I forwarded asset-protection filings for all my holdings to my legal team. “I’ll see you all in court, parasites.”

My younger sister, Mindy Sampson, has a rare blood condition. She needs regular blood transfusions and a bone marrow transplant. My husband, Ian Huffman, and I are matches. My mother says we should draw lots. Whoever draws the short stick will become Mindy's blood donor. In the next five years, I am always the one who draws the short stick. Because of constant blood draws and bone marrow extractions, my body breaks down. Before I die, I stumble upon Ian holding Mindy and saying, "Cindy is so stupid. There are only short sticks in the container. Every time, we let her draw first. How could she ever get a long one? "She is going to die without ever knowing you are not sick at all. Once she dies and we get the insurance money, we can travel the world." When I open my eyes again, I am back in the fifth year after Mindy is diagnosed. I look at the container of sticks on the table and smile. Then, I look at Ian and say, "This time, you draw first."