Obsessive

Ethan and I have been in a mate bond since six years ago. He was the Alpha of our pack. Our twin pups were going to have their fifth birthday, and I wanted to set up a bloodline trust fund for them. However, due to their special positions as the Alpha’s heirs, the trust fund required a blood verification to confirm their lineage. But after the verification, I was shocked to find that our blood couldn’t blend together. It meant I wasn’t the biological mother-wolf of the twin pups. The Inheritance Officer looked at me sympathetically and said, “I’m sorry, but this trust fund can only be established by their biological mother-wolf.” I froze for a moment and said, “There must be some kind of mistake. I can call the midwife wolf who helped me deliver them to testify. I am their mother-wolf!” “As you can see, your blood isn’t merging with theirs, but their blood is merging with the Alpha’s. So these twin pups are indeed the Alpha’s. You’re not their biological mother-wolf. Let me see… Here, their biological mother-wolf should be Helena Grayback. I’m sorry. They have nothing to do with you.” Helena? I felt completely shocked. My mind went blank. I hadn’t heard that name in a long time. She was Ethan’s first love. Helena was from a pack that had a longstanding hatred for ours. They couldn’t be together back then, but now, it turned out that the twin pups I had struggled to carry and give birth to were actually Ethan and Helena’s.

I dated my younger brother’s best friend, Dylan Lane, for three years. More than once, he told me how much he loathed arranged marriages and how he hated being chained by family interests. However, one night, after another bout of indulgence, he wrapped his arms around me and begged me sweetly to design a wedding ring for his fiancée—someone he had never even met. The smile froze on my face, yet he just said indifferently, “Aren’t people like us all destined to marry for our families' benefit?” Seeing the blood drain from my face, he even chuckled. “Vee, don’t you tell me you're still as naïve as a 20-year-old girl, thinking I would ever marry you? At most, we're just… pillow friends." Later, I agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me. Dylan showed up on my wedding day, disheveled and red-eyed. He fell to his knees and begged me not to leave. I stood beside my new husband, hand in hand, and smiled faintly as I chuckled. “Didn’t you say people like us were born for arranged marriages? I’m simply doing what you always wanted me to do. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Neil Jackson's true love steals highly radioactive materials, but I'm the one who's facing a jail sentence. I find the thief, but Lorraine Larsen refuses to own up to her crimes. Even my longtime boyfriend refuses to act as a witness for me. All he wants to do is send me to jail. It's too bad they don't know I'm a researcher at the nation's secret research center. They also have no idea that they've stolen highly radioactive materials—they can easily be killed by those.

"Interested in having a date with me? Hurry up and get over here!" Elliot Coleman sends me a photo of a venue that's decorated romantically. It's followed by that sentence and an address. He and his friends laugh hysterically when I arrive in a carefully selected dress. "I told you, right? She'd come running with just a single sentence! Trust me, she'll do whatever I want her to do!" Elliot ignores my embarrassment and publicly confesses his feelings for Isabelle Stevens. He even falsely accuses me of refusing to leave him alone and tries to chase me off. Then, he turns pale when my newlywed husband arrives and shields me.

My mother is an extreme misogynist, even toward me, her own daughter. She's wanted to kill me since the day I was born. She hits me if I wear lip gloss, wear a dress, or even get close to my father. Before sitting for my SATs, she spreads rumors about me trying to seduce my father. Ultimately, she pushes me so hard that I jump from the 15th floor. This pleases her to no end.

My mom had a sudden heart attack, and the medical bills were piling up faster than I could breathe. I was desperate, so I turned to my rich boyfriend, hoping he could help, or at least offer some kind of solution. But instead of the support I expected, he unleashed a tirade that hit harder than anything I'd ever heard. "So this is why you're with me? Just for my money? You're no different from those other women throwing themselves at me. You're all the same—pathetic and shameless!" Before I could even react, he shoved me out the door. Later, when he finally understood the full story, he handed me a bank card, no questions asked. "Candice," he said quietly, his tone almost remorseful. "The password is your birthday." I didn't say a word. I just let the card drop onto the floor and walked away without looking back.

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

I'm in the middle of my pediatric shift when an emergency call comes in. A three-year-old boy arrives, hemorrhaging and unconscious from a car crash, but there is no matching blood type in the bank. Then, it hits me that my husband, Ethan Stone, has the same blood type, so I ask him to donate blood right away. When he arrives and stands frozen to the spot, I can no longer hold back my rage. "What are you waiting for? Saving his life is the priority here!" That's when the boy's mother sprints over and screams, "No! Close family can't donate! He's the boy's father!"

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”