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Kyle Waugh wants something from Dawn. That's all. They decide to give this marriage a go for one year, and if it works out, Dawn will become the senior design editor in Kyle's parent firm and receive a fantastic divorce settlement. Kyle wants her to sleep in his bed, hold his hand at night, wear his ring on his finger at all times, and keep working for him. He also wants to convince his sceptical father that they are happily married and in love, and he's settled enough to run Waugh Industries. Dawn Brooks wants nothing more than stability and would marry a mysterious man to give her the stability she deserves. Even though she slowly learns that Kyle's heart has inbuilt cold walls, she'll do anything to keep the company job and never return to her parents. For now, she'll sleep in his bed, kiss him goodnight with a hole in her heart. Her heart may skip whenever Kyle is around, and his touch may ignite nerves that she never knew existed, but she won't actually give in to him. Would she? After all, she can be his wife if she can put her mind to it.

The day before our engagement, my fiancé, Shawn Williams, said he would accompany me to look for a wedding dress. He still was not there by the time the bridal shop closed. I received a text from him on my way home. Shawn said: [Britney said she ran out of pajamas, so I'll accompany her to go shopping.] I called him, but his junior answered the phone. "Shawn is taking a shower. I can pass along a message if you have something to tell him." Shawn and I had been in a relationship for four years. Whenever I had something important to do, his junior would suddenly need his help with something trivial. He would always abandon me and rush to her side. As expected, he did not hesitate to abandon me on a day as important as today. Feeling exhausted, I calmly replied, "Tell him the wedding is canceled. I don't want to marry him anymore."

For the 23rd time, I'm left standing at the altar as Jace Larkin hurries off because his foster sister, Celine Keaton, threatens to end her life again. The guests mock me, saying that we'll never tie the knot and attending our wedding will bring bad luck. I tune them out, holding on to Jace's promise that he'll come back and marry me. I buy his promise yet again, only for him to prove me wrong one more time. After I clean up the mess and pacify the angry guests, I reach home in the middle of the night. While passing the study, I hear Jace's voice. "Cece's always been mentally unstable. Of course, I have to stay with her. Regina will never leave me, even if I postpone our wedding a hundred times." Sorry, Jace, but I'll have to disappoint you this time. Blinking back tears, I unlock my phone and text my childhood friend, Clement Halloway. "Let's get married in three days."

When my mother first told me about the arranged marriage, Noah Parker lowered his head and kissed me, pulling me closer as we became tangled together. After a haze of passion, he carried me into the bathroom. Warm water streamed over my skin, but his words sent a chill straight through me, as if I'd fallen into an icy pit. "Go home. And don't come looking for me here again." I thought he'd seen the text and was jealous, so I quickly clung to him and swore, "I won't marry anyone else—" His smile stayed, but the heat in his eyes cooled into something distant. "But I'm getting married." He brushed back my messy hair, ignoring how my body trembled under his touch. "My fiancée is gentle and kind—nothing like you. She’d never throw herself at her foster brother like that. We've already set a date. If you keep clinging to me like this, she'll be upset with me."

Noah left me at the altar three times—for his precious Freya. First time? She threatened to jump off a building. Second? Said she was moving abroad. Third? Sent a text saying she was getting forced into some arranged marriage. Noah, usually Mr. Cool, freaked. Left a packed venue and turned me into a total joke. Again. I called him. "If you don't come back today, I'm marrying someone else." He laughed. "Freya's young. You're too old to be playing games, aren't you?" I clutched my phone, heart sinking. He knew Freya was bluffing. Still picked her. That's when I finally gave up. Later, after he'd calmed her down, he came looking for me. "Pick a new wedding date," he said, like it was no big deal. "It'll be even grander this time." A guy's voice cut through, smiling. "Sorry, man. Gotta get my wife on the plane."

On the day my sight returned, our family doctor, Anna Leone, stood right in front of me and mouthed to my husband, Don Marco Vitale, "Double the lubricant tonight. I promise it'll send you straight to heaven, my Don." Marco pressed a gentle kiss to my eyes. Then he turned away and replied with the same silent lip movements, "You little tease. That mouth of yours—and the one below—I'm crazy about them both." The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, convinced their secret was flawless. What they didn't know was that not only had my vision fully recovered—I was also fluent in lip-reading. My gaze drifted to the bottle of lubricant sitting brazenly in the wall cabinet. I said nothing. Instead, I quietly sent a single text message: [Papa, I've decided to come home.] In three days, I would vanish completely. All I would leave behind for them would be the hollowed-out fortune of billions—and that bottle of "lubricant" I had replaced with high-strength industrial superglue.

My husband chooses to stay in a honeymoon suite with his secretary during a company teambuilding event. "I'm in poor health, so I need Mr. Lowe by my side to care for me when I'm taking a dip in the hot springs. I'm sure Elaine won't be mad because she's so generous, right?" My husband wraps an arm around her waist, sounding displeased as he says, "Ignore her. I'd have wasted my time on her if she's so petty!" Our colleagues chime in. "Exactly! It's best to get a divorce if your wife gets jealous so easily! Now, Ms. Klein is gentle and considerate. You're a lucky man, Mr. Lowe!" I'm the one who recruited all of these people into the company, yet they all now despise me. Since none of them like me, there's no need for the company to exist anymore. I text my parents. "Don't bother investing in the company anymore. I no longer want it."

Chase Grimm's aide-de-camp sent me a screenshot of an Instagram Live status. Guess who it came from. His new secretary. She was showing off a meticulously prepared lunch from a lunchbox. My handiwork, no less. I made it for him. The caption read: [He's a dark, cold CEO… and a shiny knight who saved a hungry princess with a gastric problem from eating mac 'n' cheese again!] Chase almost never posted on Instagram. Yet there he was, sharing a photo of a cup of ridiculously spicy mac 'n' cheese, captioned: [I have missed this.] The nerve of this prick. Then my mother-in-law sent an entirely unsolicited text: [What the heck were you doing?! You're supposed to make him a proper lunch! He can't stand spicy food!] After all that, I decided to call a supermarket. "Hi! I'd like to order 100 cups of instant super-spicy mac 'n' cheese and have them delivered to Grimm Co. Please and thank you." "Ain't I generous?"

After helping the company secure a project worth 30 million dollars, the HR department suddenly tells me that I'm fired, and I will not be receiving any of my bonuses this year. Confused, I look for my boss, Jett Leroy, to ask him about it. However, he points his finger in my face and yells at me, "If it weren't for you being a stupid Scorpio, being the most toxic match for me and affecting the company's luck, we wouldn't have had a 30% drop in net profits this year! "I'm already generous enough by not making you compensate for all the losses you caused me! How dare you still ask me for more money? Get lost if you know what's best for you!" I smile when I read the text message notification on my phone and hurriedly sign the release documents. Jett is right. My horoscope and his definitely don't get along well. After all, I will be coming for his ass just a short while later!

I've been married to Derek Gunther for many years. Every anniversary, he tells me the airline scheduled him for a flight, then sends an expensive pair of earrings to smooth things over. But on our ninth anniversary, I accidentally overhear him joking with his friends. "Derek, you spend every anniversary with Ivy—and Sienna still hasn't caught on?" "No wonder she can't get pregnant. After all, you give all to Ivy." Derek exhales a stream of smoke and says, "Ivy gave up everything to be with me. I owe her a real home. As for Sienna, I stopped loving her after she miscarried. When the time's right, I'll file for divorce. It's unfair, sure—but I'll make it up to her with money." What Derek doesn't know is that he won't get that chance. It's on our anniversary that I'm diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer. Since he stopped loving me long ago, I'm ready to walk away on my own terms. Derek, from now on, we're done.