Our Red String

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

My roommate, Keith Kavanaugh, calls himself the "Holy Son of Frost". On the very first day we meet, he insists that the air conditioner in our dorm room must stay on until October, and the temperature can never go above 50°F. He claims, "A mystic says I'm the Holy Son of Frost, so I have a rare physique. I can only live in cool environments of 50°F at most." He even starts live-streaming, and his "special condition" instantly attracts a huge following. Meanwhile, I'm sitting right in front of the AC vent, so I'm shivering all over from the cold. I quickly turn the temperature up, but he immediately turns it back down and even locks the remote in his cabinet. "We're all educated college students here. Why are you so selfish?" he questions. Faced with his unreasonable accusation, I hold back my anger and try to reason with him. "We're in the north region. The weather here is cool enough in September. There's no need to set the AC this low. But if you insist, I can switch spots with you…" Keith cuts me off impatiently, "Are you crazy? Who sleeps right in front of the AC vent? What if I get sick from it? No one else has a problem. Why are you the only one making a fuss? Let me warn you—I'll melt from the heat. If you make me uncomfortable during my stay, I'll have you kicked out!" I realize there's no reasoning with him, so I plan to contact the dorm counselor to switch rooms. But Keith beats me to it! He goes to her first, records a video, and even posts it online. He accuses me, a local student, of being selfish and bullying him, someone who is from out of town. Just then, a new post suddenly appears on the campus forum. The poster writes, "My roommates are too wasteful. One guy washes his hair every day, and he even uses running water. He even takes a shower after every training session! Meanwhile, I can wash my whole body with just one damp towel. "And the worst part of this is that they want to kick me out after I made an itemized bill to split expenses. These cheapskates are always taking advantage of me. I'm looking for a high-quality dorm to take me in." My eyes light up instantly. He's the one!

My family and I have gone on a vacation to an island on All Hallows' Eve. Alas, that's where we get trapped by a flood as well. The tour guide claims that someone among us has committed many misdeeds, resulting in the flood. That person's antics have offended some malicious spirits, it seems. As long as the sinful culprit is thrown into the water and drowned, everyone else can leave the island safe and sound. "Here's a piece of information for you—the offenders are a family of seven. As long as all seven of them are dead, the rest of you get to survive." My heart goes tense at the tour guide's words. My family consists of seven people! Are we supposed to get annihilated on this island? "That's bullshit! How is the flood related to malicious spirits?" "Floods are caused by natural disasters! How are they related to people?"

“Mummy, Is the President our daddy?” Layla asked curiously, head tilted sideways. Her brothers listened in attentively, obviously wanting a response. I forced out a chuckle as I crouched low before her to cup her soft cheeks. “Honey, the president isn’t your daddy. The President is a very wicked person.” “But, we met him today and he was very polite. He even complimented my hair.” Layla continued earnestly and my heart hammered against my chest violently “Cupcakes, whenever you run into the President; stay away from him because he’s very cruel, okay?” The triplets’ eyes were wide as they hastily nodded their heads, and I pulled them into a long hug. They had no idea the President had once wanted them dead without second thoughts. I’ve sworn to protect them with my life since I had them. No one’s going to take them away from me. Not even their vile father, the President! ~~~ Zendaya Montclair unwillingly got into a contract marriage with the President and suffered a great deal in the marriage– from having to break up with her high school sweetheart because of the marriage, to depression, to public humiliation– to her ex-boyfriend whom she was still in love with, getting married to her supposed best friend. Zendaya was heartbroken. She got drunk that night and spent it in her husband’s bed, which instantly led to an accidental pregnancy. The President wanted her to get rid of the pregnancy because he never saw her as a mother of his future children and only a wife of convenience. That was the last straw. Zendaya left everything behind and fled, promising herself to come back for revenge on every single person who had wronged her. Including the President, she was going to make him pay!

"What... What are these?" Selene stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Divorce papers?" She looked up at Maximus, searching his face for some sign of a joke, a mistake - anything to tell her this wasn’t real. His eyes flickered with a brief moment of hesitation before hardening into a steely gaze. "If Jess hadn’t disappeared, we never would have gotten married” he drawled before delivering the final blow. “Well, Jess is back now.” She couldn’t breathe. Despite her best efforts over their three years of marriage, Maximus had never acknowledged her nor loved her the way he loved Jess. **** She signed the papers, and left his life for good, taking the babies growing in her womb with her. A few years later, She became a top medical doctor and did everything possible to stay away from Maximus. However, on her twins’ fifth birthday, they came running to her, giggling: "Mummy, we found our billionaire daddy!" She looked up and saw Maximus standing in front of her, clearly expecting her to run into his arms. Instead, She chuckled. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she responded with a deadpan expression, "No, babies, your Father is dead."

My three-year-old son, Ethan, strayed into rogue territory and was brutally murdered. When the news reached me, I blacked out. I woke up to my Alpha mate, Alexander, gripping my hand tightly. His voice was hoarse with grief. "Ivy, I swear I will avenge Ethan. I will tear those damned rogues apart with my own claws." But three days later, at the funeral, I overheard a conversation between Alexander and his Beta, Marcus. "Alpha, I don't understand," Marcus sounded confused. "Why didn't you let the pack doctor save Ethan? He was only critically injured. If we had acted in time..." "It was Lucas. He accidentally pushed Ethan toward the rogue territory," Alexander’s voice was laced with pain. "Lucas was just a child who didn't know the rogue borders. He didn’t mean it." "If I let the doctor save Ethan, the boy would have told everyone the truth. Sophia would go to jail, and the Council would sentence Lucas to death. I couldn't let that happen." Alexander continued. "But what about the pack's heir?" Marcus asked, worried. "It doesn't matter," Alexander’s tone returned to a chilling calm. "Once Ivy calms down, I'll bring Lucas back. We’ll say he’s an adopted orphan and have the next Alpha raised by Ivy herself." So, the person who killed my son was his illegitimate child with his mistress. My son could have been saved, but Alexander sacrificed my Ethan for his bastard. I dialed a number I hadn't called in five years. "Dad, it's me. Ivy." "I’ve changed my mind," my voice was cold and steady. "I’m coming back to inherit the Royal Pack." "And what about the Moonstone Pack?" "I want the Moonstone Pack erased from existence."

I went into labor. And my mate, Alpha Alistair, locked me in a silver cage. The bars throbbed with curse runes, burning my skin. He did it for Livia. His dead brother's mate. Her pup had to be born first. That's when I learned the truth. He'd been poisoning me for months. All to make sure Livia's child would be the next Alpha. He called it "calming tea." A daily dose of poison to slow my pup's growth and delay my labor. But my body had other plans. My pup refused to wait. I went into labor at the same time as Livia. When he found out, he accused me of faking it. Of begging for sympathy. He let them poison me with wolfsbane. I lost my pup. A piece of my soul died with him. With my last breath, I reached out. To the one person who could save me. My brother, Alpha King Lucian. He came like a storm of rage. He burned the packhouse to the ground, with me inside. A phantom fire for all to see. Then, he plucked me from the flames. Only then, surrounded by the smoking ruins of his pack, did Alistair fall to his knees. His howl of regret tore through the night. For 99 days, he howled at the moon. Begging the Moon Goddess to return just a sliver of my soul.

Despite having been married for 25 years now, my wife, Sasha Fuller, and I have done it less than ten times. During our 25th wedding anniversary, however, Sasha, who has always claimed to be uninterested in intimacy, ends up doing it 30 times with a male escort at a clubhouse. The couch ends up completely drenched. This is when I realize just how wrong I've been all along. Even after her betrayal is exposed, Sasha adamantly refuses to admit to any wrongdoing. On the contrary, she starts condemning me. Hurt and upset, I proceed to spend three days arguing with her about it. Even my friends and relatives try to talk me down. "You two have been married for over 20 years now. She's even the CEO of Fuller Group. What's the big deal if she sleeps with a male escort? Don't end your marriage over something this trivial." "All these years, a live-in son-in-law like you only managed to establish yourself with the help of the Fuller family anyway. Don't be so ungrateful." With my heart in anguish, I look at Sasha and say, "Cut off all contact with him, and things between us can go back to the way they used to be." However, Sasha retrieves a pregnancy test report from her briefcase and silently takes off her wedding ring. "Colin, I'm already 45 years old. Even if you can't have children, you can't expect me to go my whole life without one as well, right?" She strokes her belly without the slightest trace of guilt in her eyes. "If you insist on making a big deal over this, then I have no choice but to divorce you." My hands, hidden by my sleeves, clench into fists briefly before falling lax again. "Let's get a divorce then." Not only am I going to get a divorce, but I'm going to give Sasha and her affair partner a big surprise.

I had everything planned a month in advance for our holiday. I was going to take my wife and daughter on a trip to see the country's beautiful landscapes, but just before we were supposed to leave, they both disappeared. I ended up standing alone in the pouring rain, trying to call them. My daughter's voice came through over the phone—it was cold and impatient. "Mommy's having dinner with Uncle Skyler. We don't want to go anymore." Right after that, the call was cut off. I had been blocked. They locked me out of the house on purpose and left me to freeze out there all night. The rain had already drenched me, and I was running a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Meanwhile, the two of them were off enjoying a vacation with Skyler Shire. That was the moment I knew—this marriage was well and truly over.

On my wedding day, my fiancé showed up with another woman, flashing a marriage license. He announced, "She's my true love. Don't even think about taking her place." My doting brother sided with her too. "You've had a cushy life for over 20 years. Let her have this." I left quietly. My brother and my fiancé breathed a sigh of relief. They paraded the new girl around town, my brother even calling her his adopted sister to boost her status. They didn't know I'd gone to the border until someone mentioned me. I was done with them, but they started to regret it.