Piano No Mori

On the night of the Blood Moon, a feral surge ripped through our territory. I ended up pinned under the ruins of our collapsing den. My mate—the Alpha of the Northern Pack, Kaius—abandoned me. He left me to rot so he could save his childhood sweetheart Lina. I didn't stop him. I let him go. In my last life, faced with the same choice, Kaius had chosen to save me first—back then, I was eight months pregnant. Because he was late to the rescue, Lina was torn apart by the beasts. She died in a pool of her own blood. Later, on the day I went into labor, Kaius dragged me to Lina’s grave. He stood there, stone-faced, watching me scream in agony on the dirt. He ignored every single plea. "Does it hurt, Elena? It’s not even a fraction of the pain Lina felt when she died!" "You were in a safe bunker that night, Kaius! Lina only died because you used our pup to blackmail me into staying!" "Lina suffered. Now, it’s your turn." He ignored my begging as blood soaked the ground beneath me. I died of a massive hemorrhage in the healer’s tent that night. Now, I’ve opened my eyes back on the day of the surge. This time, my pup and I aren't counting on him.

I was in love with Ethan Black, a brilliant man with big dreams. I gave him my twenties, my body, my loyalty. I worked three jobs while he chased his startup dreams. And when he finally made it, he became a stranger. Then I found out he got another woman pregnant, the same woman who dumped him in college when his family lost everything. That nearly destroyed me. But I stayed. I told myself love was worth it. But nothing could prepare me for the day he left our four-year-old daughter home alone… to go see her. And our little girl died. I buried my child and with her, the woman I used to be. Now, I live for one thing only: Revenge. He took everything from me. Now I’ll take everything from him. He doesn’t know it yet… but I’m not the same woman he left behind. And by the time I’m done, he’ll wish he never met me.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

I loved Spencer. Even though I knew he only saw Fiona when he looked at me. I clung to the wedding dress he picked out himself, holding onto the dream of a future that felt so close. But on our wedding day, she came back. In front of everyone, he has my dress ripped apart—for her. Now, he knelt before my grave, begging for forgiveness. But all I could think was, even here, he was ruining my peace.

After Isabella is kicked out of her own home by her scheming stepmother and stepsister, she's left feeling lost and betrayed, with even her ex-fiancé turning his back on her. But fate throws her a curveball when she comes across an injured stranger and reluctantly decides to shelter him. Little does Isabella know, this Mr. Vagrant is a big shot in the city. But... this man she saved loved spending money so much that she almost went broke!

The second Zoe reset her life and landed back at the Elite Match Gala, she swapped her token with her half-sister's. No hesitation. Because in her previous life, Connor had married Zoe, but she had died helpless and unloved. It was only on her deathbed that Zoe finally knowed the truth: Connor had loved her sister all along. Now, Connor grabbed the bouquet meant for Vicky, eyes lighting up."Vicky, you're it for me. My one and only." Then he turned to Zoe—and the warmth vanished. "Zoe, you've always been like a little sister to me. Don't even think about stepping into Vicky's place." That hit like a slap. Cold, sharp, humiliating. Everyone thought she was pathetic. But this time, Zoe wouldn’t beg for his love. She would bless them instead—marry the man her father had chosen for her, and never look back.

A girl who is the meaning of Never judge a book by its cover, and a billionaire who is cold-hearted due to betrayal. Amalie James Anderson, adopted daughter of the Anderson family is the definition of sweet & caring girl. But that doesn't mean she is weak. Austin Theodore, billionaire, hard-working, but a very arrogant personality. The only people he truly cares about are those he calls family Will there be fire & smoke or love & it's testings? Dead parents turn out to be alive and past enemies come to surface once more for revenge, in all this will they be able to come unharmed or will the damage will be too much for the two of them? For more details you will have to read to find out.

Ten years ago, I ditched a high-paying job for my family. A decade later, they asked for my kidney—supposedly for my daughter, Talia. Turns out, the real patient was Hudson's first love's son. They didn't even fake remorse. Hudson sneered, convinced I couldn't survive without him. Talia called me old and fat, acting like I should be grateful to help Bianca's kid. A whole decade of sacrifice, and what did I get? No love. No thanks. Just entitlement. To them, I was nothing but a free, disposable maid. So I walked. No regrets. I rebuilt my life, found a job, and never looked back. Then reality smacked them. Hudson and Talia finally realized everything I'd done. They begged me to come back—but my heart was already stone-cold. In the end, I left the country, threw myself into work, and finally learned what it meant to live.

"Ms. Medici, you've officially purchased the island. It's completely off the grid—once you're in, no one can find you. Also, the custom-made family you requested is ready. They're professionally trained to give you nothing but unconditional love."

The doctors said it was over—stage four, nothing left to fight. I had three days, max. I signed the organ donor papers myself. If I was gonna die, at least someone else could get a second shot. Told my family I was sick. But my so-called sister—the doctor—shrugged it off like I was making it up. She convinced them I was losing it, not dying. My parents and fiancé fell for it. Handed me over like she was some hero. She wasn't. She pushed me closer to the end. And when I finally died, the same people who wouldn't listen cried like they hadn't let it happen.