Photo Syekh Abdul Muhyi Pamijahan

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood sweetheart called, claiming a burst pipe at her home. Without a second thought, he ditched our celebration to play handyman. Moments later, Vivian Duffy's social media lit up with a smug post. [No matter when or where, my Superman arrives at one call. How should I reward him?] Accompanying the post was a photo of scattered condoms and torn clothing on the floor. I forced a smile, picked up my phone, and dialed a number. "My pipe is broken. Care to fix it?"

For years Hyacinth tried hard to live her life after leaving her childhood home. But she was taken by her father's men and forced her to marry a random rich man to save their company after her sister ran off. Surprisingly, she's marrying her ex-stepbrother. Her first love and first of everything. The man who protects her from her bullies. The man whom she surrenders herself to. What pains her was being the second choice... the substitute bride. For days with Raven, Hyacinth started to fall. From flowers to expensive things. She thought that it was meant for Rosie, her sister. The original bride. But she came back too soon, and that's where she sees that Raven was letting Rosie touch him. Rosie shows ownership toward Raven and even sent her a photo of them together making her decide to divorce him. She fled from him, to another continent. But he found her again and that's the start that Hyacinth get to know him better, through his friends and the people that are close to him. She's falling again and although she's terrified, she let herself fall into him. They start again and Raven shows the same love back when they were teens. However, after leaving Finland something weird arose. Unexplainable accidents and Raven was always involved. That's when she found out that Raven was hiding all of the flowers and letters from a suitors. Then, after that, a horrifying truth came from Raven's mouth, caused by Rosie and an unknown stalker.

Five years ago, my junior made a mistake in the experiment, resulting in an explosion in the lab. In an effort to save my childhood friend, Andrew, I suffered severe burns to one side of my face and was falsely accused as the culprit. Just like that, I became the target of everyone's anger. Only Andrew stood by me, promising, "I love you for who you are, not your appearance. I'll always be there to protect you." But on our wedding day, he vanished without a trace. My mother, suffering from heart disease and barely clinging to life, wanted to see Andrew. When I asked him to come, he replied impatiently, "Are you using such a lame excuse to meet me? Don't you have any shame? Every time I look at your face, I feel disgusting." I pleaded desperately, but he calmly hung up. "Do you think I'm your servant? You can't just summon me whenever you want. Just because you saved me once doesn't mean you can blackmail me for life." My mother died without peace. The junior who slandered me back then later posted a photo on social media, showing a man lifting her effortlessly. Their poses were intimate, highlighting the underlying affection. Her captions read: [It's all his fault for tiring me out during the day. I almost missed out on this beautiful ocean. When you're in love, all is clear to see. I mentioned wanting to go to Belmar Island, and he flew me around the world for it.] I was utterly heartbroken, so I texted him: [Let's break up…]

When I became the blood bank for my mate Alpha Kane’s sweetheart, my wolf died from the endless loss of blood—and so did I, alone, in the cold den he rented to keep me out of sight. Today marks the third day since my death, and finally, my six-year-old pup noticed something was wrong. His finger bled when a toy hurt him, but I didn’t come to comfort him. When he tried to feed me his favorite food, I didn’t stop him either. He lay on my chest, gripping my clothes and whispering my name—but I didn’t respond. Desperate and helpless, my pup picked up my cellphone and called his alpha dad. “Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?” Kane didn’t answer. Instead, he sent him a photo of himself and Serena—his sweetheart—celebrating Full Moon Day, smirking. “Don’t worry. Your mom is just sleeping, not dead. You know I’m quite busy on Full Moon Day. Tell your arrogant and stubborn mom not to come find me until she admits her fault.” The call ended, leaving my pup frozen in silence. However, three days later, Kane received news of my death. He let out a gut-wrenching growl, refusing to believe it was true. Clutching my cold, lifeless body in his arms, he wept bitterly. “Kate… you are my only Luna,” he cried. “Come back. Stay with me… please.”

I died beneath the Ferris wheel. The killer took a photo of the Ferris wheel and sent it to my mother. 'Mom, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you too,' wrote the killer. In my mother's voice message, her tone was filled with hatred as she replied, "How dare you ask to ride the Ferris wheel with me when you killed your own sister? Why won't you just die?!" As she wished, I was dead. However, what she didn't know was that the one who killed me was my so-called dead sister.

Victor and I were nothing more than a pair of sworn enemies married inside the camp. He hated me for handing over my frail sister to the research institute, all so they could extract the antiviral serum from her blood. And I hated him for never seeing anyone but her, even in the apocalypse, when she could barely lift a metal rod. For the ten years of the apocalypse, the words we said to each other most often were, "Die a miserable death." … However, when the zombie horde finally broke through the last line of defense, he chained me to the modified mech truck and went out alone to face it. "Live…" I watched as the tide of corpses swallowed him whole, the crack of breaking bones mixing with the sound of flesh being torn apart. On the edge of death, he pulled out my sister's faded photo and placed it over the one clean spot on his chest. "This life is yours. But if there's a next one, don't go near her again." … That night, when I returned, I blew up the camp. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the zombie king. His razor-sharp claws closed around my throat, and I smiled as I took hold of his hand. "Let's make a deal. Give humans five more years, and I'll willingly be your queen." Last time, he gave his life to save me. This time, I'll be the monster—so they can all get what they want.

Maverick Lloyd finally agrees to marry me after five years of dating. We head to the hospital to tell my ill mother the good news. On the way there, Maverick receives a call from his true love. He turns the car around and takes me to a bar instead—his true love is short of people at the bar, so he tells me to help out as a bargirl. When I'm being harassed and sullied in a private room, he's living it up with his true love next door. The hospital calls to tell me my mother's condition has worsened. I jump out of the third-floor window to get away. However, when I arrive at the hospital, all I see is my mother's cold body. Meanwhile, Maverick's true love updates her social media. "He appears before me like a hero whenever I'm in danger." It comes with a photo of her cuddling in Maverick's arms. My heart dies. I take off my engagement ring and place it with my mother's body to be destroyed during the cremation. Then, I like Maverick's true love's post. "I hope you two stay together forever. Don't ever harm anyone else."

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

Before heading out on her undercover mission, my daughter Anna Stone left me a farewell letter. My husband, Wayne Stone, who adores her, reads it and immediately posts her photo on Instagram. His caption reads, "I heard Anna's on a mission. Let's see how many drug dens she'll take down this time." Anna's devoted husband, Gabriel Morrison, barely glances at the letter before dropping her exact location online. Anna's twin brother, Casper Stone, has always been inseparable from her. However, after reading the letter, he goes straight to the drug dealers and brings them to her. Anna's cover is blown, the mission fails, and all 37 officers are wiped out without a trace. I collapse in despair, lashing out at them with desperate questions, only to be bound and sent to Mirewick, a notorious criminal den. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day Anna sets out on her mission.

While attending a class reunion with my wife, we ran into her old flame—Caelum Zeth. After the gathering, Talia Grant cornered Caelum against a wall. When she found out he had fallen on hard times, she kissed him. "How much do you still owe? Be with me. I'll give you 100 thousand a month. Will that be enough?" I stood quietly at the corner of the street and snapped a photo of their heartfelt reunion before sending it to my lawyer. I also forwarded it to Talia, along with a message, "Since you two are so in love, go ahead and marry him."