Periodic Table Of Marvel

I'm the daughter of the Alpha King of the Werewolf Alliance that's based in Valdoria. In order to give my Alpha fiance whom I've never met before, Lucas Howell, a surprise, I've specifically hidden my scent as a royal she-wolf. Clad in a seemingly ordinary white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, I walk into the venue, where the Dark Shadow pack is hosting their annual celebration. As soon as I take my seat at the main table, which has been reserved for me, I feel someone dumping a glass of red liquid onto me. A she-wolf wearing a red dress that comes with a deep V-neck can be seen standing in front of me. Her expression is one of disdain. "Where did you come from, you filthy Rogue? You really think you get to sit at the main table, huh?" As I wipe the wine stains off my clothes, I do my best to suppress the ferocity of my wolf. "Lucas has specifically reserved this seat for his mate. Why can't I sit here?" The she-wolf acts as though she's heard the biggest joke ever. She then point at her work badge that's pinned on her chest while saying mockingly, "I'm Lucas' personal secretary as well as the future Luna whom everyone has acknowledged. In this pack, my word is the law here. "Guards, drag this delusional half-breed away and throw her out!" What a coincidence. Lucas has just texted me, pleading with me to announce our relationship as soon as possible. I dig out my phone and dial his number. Then, I put my phone on loudspeaker mode. "Your personal secretary claims that she's the future Luna, and she has commanded the guards to throw me out. What's your explanation for this matter, hmm?"

Zara Storme was the ghost in the machine at Sterling Global. For three years, she wasn’t just Mark Sterling’s fiancée she was The Architect. The unseen force who patched his weaknesses, outplayed his rivals, and quietly engineered a billion-dollar empire while he collected the applause. Then, over an elegant dinner, Mark slid a severance check across the table instead of a ring. To him, Zara was indispensable but temporary. Brilliant, yes. Loyal, certainly. But she lacked the pedigree required for his permanent throne. So he chose optics over love, trading her for a strategic merger and a well-bred socialite. Mark expected tears. Begging. A woman unraveling. What he didn’t know was that abandonment had trained Zara long before him. Her father had taught her the art of leaving without looking back. Fueled by a quiet rage, Zara committed one final act of treason which was leaking Mark’s most valuable upcoming deals to his greatest rival, Asher Vane. It was meant to be her clean exit. Then fate intervened. She was pregnant. Five years later, Zara returns to the city reborn as the formidable CEO of Lucent Capital. No longer the woman behind the throne, she is the throne. A venture-capital titan whose influence eclipses every man who once dismissed her. At her side is Luca her five-year-old masterpiece. Disciplined. Brilliant. And unmistakably the son of the man who walked away. When Mark Sterling’s empire begins to collapse under the weight of its own lies, desperation drives him to seek salvation from a firm powerful enough to save him. He comes to the boardroom expecting mercy. Instead, he finds Zara Storme seated at the head of the table untouchable, and finally holding his fate in her hands. This time, she’s here to watch it burn.

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her. Now, I finally found one. Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again." Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation. I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see. Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't. "Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…" I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried… While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media. "Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!" The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle. As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart. By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

Wendy and James had been married for eight years. One day, Wendy told James that she wanted to have a child with another man, and she wanted to hold a wedding with that man as well. Faced with James's questioning, Wendy didn't beat around the bush. "You're infertile and he's willing to give me a child. We're only having a child and holding a wedding. That's all. We won't be getting a marriage certificate, so he has no effect on your status." James's heart turned cold. He arranged the best wedding for Wendy and the man named "Sean." Wendy was very happy with how obedient James was. When they were saying their vow, James was lying on the operating table all alone and was erasing all his memories of Wendy from his mind.

Katherine Harrington spent five years loving a man who never chose her. When her husband forces her onto an operating table to give his pregnant mistress a kidney, Katherine finally understands her place in his heart—nowhere. Left bleeding and dying, she begs the Moon Goddess for one last chance. This time, she won’t love him. This time, she will make them regret everything. But fate has other plans . Because the man who saves her isn’t just powerful. He’s the ruthless Lycan Tyrant feared by every pack. And the moment he sees her, his golden eyes darken. “Touch her again,” he says coldly, “and I’ll wipe your entire pack from existence.”

When Asher Terrell's family crumbled into bankruptcy, I stood steadfast by his side. We lived in a dank basement, where I toiled through three jobs to help clear their crushing debts. He bounced back and proposed, promising me a true home. Three years into our marriage, I discovered the deed to our house bore the name of his first love. "This is what I owe her," he confessed. Swallowing my pain, I nodded and pushed forward a photo from back when we were crammed in that basement, with a whole table piled high with debt notices. "You've paid your debt to her with our house," I said. "But what about the debt you owe me?"

Betrayed by the husband and the cousin she once trusted, Dr. Harper Reeves finds herself strapped to an operating table—moments away from being dissected alive. Only then does the truth finally surface: Her marriage was a lie. Her suffering was engineered. And Phoebe—her doctor, her blood, her own cousin—was the one who planned it all. As the scalpel rises to carve her open, Harper does the unthinkable. She fights back. One death. One chance. One whispered wish as her life bleeds away: If I could live again… I wouldn’t endure. I wouldn’t bow. I would destroy anyone who dared to use me. And I would burn their world to the ground.

Serena gave everything to the man she loved—her trust, her devotion, her future. But betrayal shattered it all. Pregnant and full of hope, she walked in on her husband tangled in bed with another woman. What followed was worse: the slow, agonizing loss of her baby… and then her own life, bleeding out on an operating table, heartbroken and alone. But fate wasn’t finished with her. Reborn with every memory intact, Serena wakes in the past—stronger, colder, and no longer naive. This time, she’s ready to rewrite her story. This time, she’ll make them pay. Because the girl they destroyed… came back for revenge. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll find something worth living for too.

I am the lawfully wedded wife of Don Jones—the Donna of the Jones Family—and the founding CEO of his medical empire. I stood by Vincent's side as we built it up from a two-room surgical clinic into the crown jewel of European private healthcare. Then, in my eighth month of pregnancy, dying on the operating table, Vincent pulled every surgeon out of my maternity ward for the sake of his mistress. He killed our child with his own hands. He stripped me of the right to ever be a mother. He thought I was a homeless orphan with nowhere to go. He had no idea I was the sole blood heir of the Belmonte Family. After the divorce, I came home to command a global medical empire. He knelt and begged. I watched, cold-eyed, as he fell into hell.