Poppy Counter

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

After receiving the news that her husband had died during a mission, my sister-in-law collapsed from the shock. When she woke up, she'd lost her memory. She clung to my husband and refused to let go. Our husbands were twin brothers. The doctor said she couldn't be triggered, so my husband and mother-in-law sat me down and begged me to play along until she got over this. Every time I brought it up again, they shut me down. "This is only until she gets her memory back!" So I watched as my husband and his widowed sister-in-law eat, sleep, and live under the same roof. Even our daughter could only stand by and watch her cousin call him "Daddy". One day, my daughter spiked a high fever and wouldn't wake up. I begged my husband to take us to the hospital. Unexpectedly, his sister-in-law went berserk over it and threatened to kill herself. In the chaos, I was stabbed in the heart by the scissors she swung around. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the day my husband agreed to play the role of a substitute husband.

In my past life, my best friend and I married twins at the same time. We shared secrets, complained about our husbands, and teamed up to outsmart our overbearing mother-in-law—it was truly enjoyable. Until the day I nearly died giving birth to twins. As I lay on the brink of death, my best friend cradled my newborns and revealed the cruel truth. “Thank you, Bianca, for giving me such adorable twins. You had no idea, did you? The twins only ever loved me. If I had the ability to give birth, we wouldn't have used you as a tool to have kids. "You’re poor and have never been loved, so it was far too easy to manipulate you. Even the way your husband loved you? It was all my idea—I planned every move he made. “Oh, and every time you two were intimate, I was watching through the cameras—every single time!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I met my best friend.

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

Poppy McCormick was best friends with the school's most popular girl, Belle Jones, before Belle even became popular. After an incident nobody knows about, Belle turned everyone in the school against Poppy. All but one person. Grayson Prince plays by his own rules and doesn't listen to a single person. Being the bad boy of the school, he has his own past. Naturally, he doesn't listen to any rumors he hears, including the ones about Poppy. After meeting one day, Poppy determines to prevent having Grayson turned against her. And Grayson is determined to keep Poppy protected from the school and his past.

Attending a high school reunion, I rode my motorcycle to the venue. By the time I arrived at the Moon Valley Hotel, most of my former classmates were already there. Everyone seemed to be doing well for themselves. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars belonging to high-ranking pack members. There was even a Rolls Royce that belonged to the son of an Alpha. As I dismounted from my motorcycle, a former male classmate I barely remembered looked at me with disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't our former class president. Still riding a basic bike like an omega, I see." During dinner, everyone was fawning over the Alpha's son while completely ignoring me in the corner. Only Derek, our former class monitor and now a beta, sat beside me with a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it. Even though you're still just an omega like your parents, I'm sure one day you'll rise up in the pack rankings." I couldn't help but smirk, whispering under my breath: "This isn't just any motorcycle. It's the Royal Guard's official vehicle."

In the three years since I became Zander's mate, I've tried to kill myself ninety-nine times. Kidnapped by a rival pack in my youth, years of torture nearly destroyed me. I clawed my way back to the Crescent Moon Pack, only to find my place had been taken by an adopted daughter, Vivian. My Beta parents doted on her, and my fated mate—the Alpha himself—had eyes only for her. I begged them, told them my kidnapping and my suicide attempts weren't accidents, but all I ever heard was: "Ember, you're delusional. You just wandered off and got lost." "You tried to drown yourself in the river." The people closest to me, and not one of them believed me. Until the ninety-ninth time. Another "suicide." When I woke up three days later, I rubbed my aching head. My eyes were vacant, my own gaze foreign to me. I had forgotten who I was, forgotten the humiliation I'd endured, forgotten the desperate girl who had thrown away her dignity for a scrap of her Alpha's affection. At the pack ceremony, while everyone waited for me to fawn pathetically over Zander, a single tear slid down my cheek for reasons I couldn't comprehend. I wiped it away and, under the shocked stares of the entire pack, announced calmly: "Zander," my voice was steady. "I don't love you anymore. So I, Ember of the Crescent Moon Pack, hereby reject you as my mate." "This little act again?" Zander sneered, his eyes glinting with the same casual contempt they always held for me. But he didn't know. This time, I was leaving him for good. It wasn't until I vanished completely that the ones who'd never believed me were the ones who truly went mad.

When my dad died, my husband was at the airport—picking up another girl. She looked like me. Only difference? He actually loved her. I was just the stand-in. Three years of marriage? It cost me my dad... and every last shred of self-respect. But at least I finally saw him for who he was. I left the country in a soaked dress. That's when it hit him—what it really meant to lose. "Emily, I was wrong!" "Daniel Wilson, it's too late." Stand-ins don't get love. They get a new beginning.

Alpha Fabian's first reaction to learning I was his fated mate? Rejection. But drunk at the bonfire festival, he couldn't fight the pull of fate. He marked me. Marking a rejected mate came with a price. His power weakened. Forced into a bond with me, he despised me. For two years, I bled for him. I did 100 impossible things, just hoping for a single glance. I snuck into forbidden lands for rare herbs. I negotiated with enemy packs. I fought on the front lines for him in pack wars, always coming back covered in scars. But the one he truly loved was my adopted sister, Gloria. Even my own parents, the pack's Beta, hated me. I was their lost daughter, raised by rogues for fifteen years. But they only had eyes for their perfect, obedient adopted girl. Then, on my 100th task, I nearly died in the Valley of Shadows. When I woke up, I had amnesia. I was done chasing a cold mate and a family's love I'd never have. And when I finally walked away, Fabian discovered the truth. It was never me who couldn't live without him. It was always him.

The laundromat I regularly visit has been showing an odd fluctuation in its price lately. "This coat isn't easy to wash. We're probably the only store that's willing to clean this at a loss. The market price is 55 dollars per item, but I'll give you a discount and only ask for 200 dollars for four items." I look at the boss' mother, who's new at the laundromat. I'm a little pissed. Still, I hand her my membership card without saying anything. This laundromat is opposite my residential area, and they had a promotion during their opening. I topped up ten thousand dollars on the card because I pitied the owner for raising a child alone. Unexpectedly, the owner's mother looks at me and says sarcastically, "That dumb membership card means nothing to me—you have to pay me in cash. You youngsters are too lazy to wash your clothes, yet you're more than willing to use your brains for nonsense like this. My son is too kind to let you take advantage of him like this." I grab my clothes and leave. It's time to use my brain for some nonsense—I think the laundromat should have a new owner.