Netero Final Attack

I get picked up by the cops in the middle of the night for street vending. While questioning me, they pull up my file. One officer eyes me suspiciously through my mask and asks, "What's a Clairefield University graduate like you doing selling stuff on the street at midnight?" I freeze and lean over to look at the file. The ID number matches mine, but the photo has been replaced with one of Madison Bass. That's when it hits me—20 years ago, I was the one who got accepted to Clairefield University! Dazed and numb, I stumble home only to hear my husband, Joseph Gunther, speaking on the phone. "Madison, don't worry. I won't let Lucy interfere with your life. Just go abroad in peace." It's him! Joseph helped Madison steal my identity and my future. My stomach twists. I turn to confront him, to expose the truth. But before I can, he strangles me to death with a belt. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You can't ruin Madison's future…" When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the classroom. Our homeroom teacher is handing out university application forms. This time, I'm taking my life back.

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.

After my pack fell, my father and I joined the Black Moon Pack. Alpha Victor admired my gift for runes and promised to make me his Luna. I was so full of hope, I didn’t even mind that he was using my gift to shield his entire pack. But he kept delaying our marking ceremony, leaving me to endure the pack’s scorn for my fallen bloodline. On the eve of my father’s death, he even temporarily marked Seraphina, the daughter of another Alpha. He claimed it was to secure an alliance. I cried myself dry in the endless wait, only to hold my father as he died in my arms. Victor, however, continued to use my gift, commissioning runes from me only to give them to Seraphina. The final straw was when Seraphina destroyed my rune sanctum and flaunted the very pendant I’d crafted for my own bonding ceremony. That’s when my heart finally shattered. I no longer cared about being his Luna. I simply walked away. But after I left, Victor’s desperate plea echoed from the Moon Goddess altar. “Come back and be my Luna. Please.”

I married a guy thirty-two years older than I am. Reason? Money. We got divorced, I got all his money and became the city's richest person. Just when my luck was starting to turn, I was hit with devastating news. My ex died. Drowned, they said. The cops think I'm the killer.

I had gained thirty pounds after I was pregnant for six months. My husband, Jordan Smith felt disgusted by me. He would rather stay at work than come home, and he fell in love with his girl best friend, Holly Brown. On our wedding anniversary, they were acting intimately in a private room. Meanwhile, Holly was wearing my wedding gown. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. She had her arms around Jordan’s neck and said to me coyly, “It’s not what you think.” Jordan was agitated after he was caught cheating on me. “I’ve known her since we were kids. We have been best friends for so many years. If something were to happen between us, it would have happened a long time ago.” However, I saw the hickey on Holly’s shoulder. She said to Jordan, “Your wife looks obese. My cousin didn’t gain a single pound after she had given birth. Instead, she looked even slimmer. Jordan, did your wife secretly eat pig feed?” Jordan felt embarrassed. He instructed someone to lock me in a bedroom and starve me for a few days. I suffered from a miscarriage. Indeed, I lost the weight on my abdomen, but Jordan went insane.

Damian, my destined partner, is the alpha that all wolf girls dream of. For him, I went alone to the North, his pack. But for three years after we signed the contract, he remained chaste, staying at least three feet away from me, refusing to mate with me. I thought he was just busy with the affairs of the wolf pack and had no time to care about me. Until I stumbled upon Damian pinning Lyra, his sister, against a rough tree trunk, his mouth savagely devouring her lips like a wild beast. "You know I long for you, Lyra!" he roared. "Why did you force that boring Selena on me?!" At last I understood. The only person he truly loved was Lyra. He hurt me again and again for Lyra, and even when we were trapped in the forest and almost swallowed by the shadow plague, he ran away with Lyra in his arms without looking back. "Whether Selena can escape or not has nothing to do with me. You are the most important person in my world!" I was heartbroken, but he wanted to complete the final mark with me because of guilt. He didn't know that I had already dripped my heart's blood on the moonstone the day I found out about his affair with Lyra. Our mate bond had been completely broken long ago.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer and needed a total gastrectomy. My husband, who was hailed as a rising star in the medical field, personally performed the surgery on me. However, after the operation, my health only worsened. He told me that the cancer had spread too quickly, and there was no hope left. It was not until I accidentally came across a hidden medical report and a massive insurance policy that I learned the truth—I never had stomach cancer. Not only had he removed my stomach, but he had also taken my uterus. Desperate, I confronted him, asking why he did that to me. He held his mistress in his arms, looking at me with disgust as he said, "If your father weren't the director, do you think I would've married you? You're not even worthy of being in the same room as Mabel. After one more surgery to remove your stomach, I'll be promoted to chief physician. "Didn't you claim to love me so much? I'm just using your body to help me and Mabel get ahead... I'm doing you a favor." Then, he and his mistress threw me off the building, making it look like a suicide. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day of my stomach surgery.

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”

My husband, Gavin Chapman, is giving his secretary, Natasha Gardner, exactly what she wants. He's making her his wife. To pull it off, he fakes a lab accident, pretends to have amnesia, and brings her home. In his office, Gavin wraps his arms around Natasha and murmurs indulgently, "Not just Mrs. Chapman. Even if you want to pretend to be the vice president for a week, I'll let you." My eyes dim, but I let the lie go on. The next day, at a press conference, Gavin holds Natasha's hand and tells the world she's his real wife. He even threatens to kick me out of the company and take over all my research data. Dozens of cameras swivel toward me, waiting for my outburst. But I stay silent and simply sign the termination papers. Gavin doesn't know that the pharmaceutical project he believes will be done in seven days isn't quite finished. There's still one final step, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.