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After five years in a world ruled by werewolves, I still haven't found a way back to the human world. So I did the only thing I could. I married my fated mate, Ryan Darcy, a devastatingly handsome Lycan Prince with a towering frame. The night we sealed our mate bond, we traded secrets. Leaning close, I whispered in his ear, "The truth is, I'm not from this world. Treat me wrong, and I'll disappear back to where I came from. You'll never find me again." Ryan immediately swears he'll love me more than life itself. He pulls me close, holding me so tight it's like he's afraid I'll disappear any second. But then Eleanor Darcy—his stepsister, sent away for a political marriage in another pack—returns. Bit by bit, I watch as Ryan's attention shifts to her. Devastated, I start looking for a way back to the human world. I throw myself at walls, try to hang myself, even jump into the lake, but nothing works. Ryan grows more distant with each passing day. "Susan, I expected better from you. Since when have you stooped to cheap attention-seeking stunts? 'Crossed over from another world?' You can't honestly expect me to buy that nonsense." That's when I realized he hadn't believed a single word I'd said.

When Tessa Shoreman read Henry Jennings' cancer report, she immediately paid her hard-earned money of sixty thousand to the hospital. She had saved the money from working part-time while she was in university. However, she was worried the money was not enough, so she held back her fear as she sold a kidney to the black market to get more. As she walked to the ward door with a heavy bag filled with cash, she heard shrill laughter coming from inside. "That cheap woman, Tessa Shoreman, got tricked by us again. Haha!" Tessa's hand gave pause right when she was about to push the door open. What did he mean by saying she was tricked? Tessa looked through the glass on the door to see inside the ward. When she left, the man looked extremely weak, but he was now sitting up lazily in bed. Henry had a cigarette in his mouth, and he was blowing smoke rings nonchalantly. He did not look like a cancer patient at all. "It's been two years, and that woman still has no idea." "If she hadn't beaten Serene to first place, Henry would never have left behind his life as a rich heir and planned such an elaborate scheme to become a working-class man living in a cheap rental home. The way that cheap, penniless woman looks at Henry is so amusing." "We agreed that the punishment ends when Henry and Serene get engaged. It looks like time is almost up. We've probably punished her 108 times in the past two years." "The first time was lying to her that Henry didn't have a suit for a job interview. She worked tirelessly for 72 hours straight before she earned enough money for one, but that suit was given to the domestic help to use as a cleaning cloth. The second time was tricking her into believing Henry had a high fever. She forfeited during the finals of a scientific research competition to race home and take care of Henry in the hospital…" "Sigh. Too bad it's coming to an end. I'm going to miss entertaining myself with her."

When a ferocious storm tore through our town, Frank Turner risked his life to save me from being swept off our balcony's edge. Grateful, I finally said yes to his relentless marriage proposals. From then on, he treated me like royalty, fussing over every sniffle. To the world, he was the gold standard of devotion. But two years into our marriage, his warmth faded. When crippling stomach pain left me doubled over, he brushed it off, claiming work demanded his night. I went to find him, only to catch him in a steamed-up car with a girl, both stripped bare. My fairy-tale marriage shattered like glass. Turning around, I booked a flight and left the country. Frank tore the city apart looking for me, but it was too late.

On a trip to Chicily, my wife, Rosa Stone, and her first love, Jack Cud, insisted on feeding wild, starving wolves. I simply reminded them, "You might attract more hungry wolves." They turned on me, calling me a heartless monster. In the end, I was right. A pack of wolves really did show up. They circled the car, watching us hungrily. Jack was bitten by one. To my surprise, Rosa kicked me out of the car, yelling, "Jack is hurt! He needs to be taken to the hospital! Distract the wolves, I'll come back for you!" I watched them drive away, leaving me behind, surrounded by hungry wolves closing in from all sides. My heart sank. But, Rosa forgot one thing—I was a great Wolvesmith.

The day I began working, I found out that the boyfriend I’d picked up off the street was actually a rich young man from the capital’s elite circle. His fiancée sneered at me, “You’re nothing but a bit of fun for us when we’re bored.” “You didn’t really think you were some kind of heroine here to save him, did you?” I was humiliated, my lips trembling. I couldn’t forgive myself—how could I have spent half of my father’s lifesaving money to help him? I even dropped out of school, working three jobs every day, foolishly treating him as the second most important person in my life. Later, my father passed away, leaving me all alone, so I left that city. But who would have thought that the young rich man who had toyed with me would go mad, searching for me all over the world for the next five years?

The day my father dies, my boyfriend, Heath Summers, is accompanying his true love for her prenatal checkup. I lose hope in him and ask for a breakup, but he thinks I'm just being jealous. He says, "Naomi's already miscarried thrice—it hasn't been easy for her to conceive this child. Stop being unreasonable." I've been with him for seven years, but it turns out I can't compare to his childhood sweetheart.

Mark Carlson and I had been a secret couple for three years. He was nothing but my boss at work. But at home, he treated me however he pleased, with no regard for my feelings. One day, I noticed him researching marriage. My heart leapt with joy. I prepared my proof of identity and other relevant documents, thinking he was finally ready, but he went to the marriage registration office with another woman. "You're married now. You should clean up things at home quickly,” one of his friends said, grinning. "Yeah, I should. But honestly, she does not have to leave entirely,” Mark replied with a smirk. I watched as everyone laughed, their faces filled with delight. Tears streamed down my face as I turned away. I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Andy Selton. "You wanted to marry me, didn't you?” I asked, my voice trembling. Later, two weddings were held on the same day. Mark's face filled with regret as he stared at my wedding photo with Andy. In the middle of his ceremony, he left his bride behind and drove to find me. But by then, I was already married to my husband!

I run into a group of rogues on my way home for my daughter's birthday. I call my wife for help, but she blocks my number. I'm dragged out of the car, stabbed a dozen times, and thrown into the bushes to die. My neck is broken, and my organs are spilling out of my body. The rogues think I'm going to die—they even mention each other's names before me. Then, they drive off in my car while whistling happily. I hold onto my head and organs as I crawl to the roadside, hoping against hope that someone will save me. Before I'm taken to the hospital, I see my wife's social media update—she and her secretary have taken a sweet photo together while celebrating our daughter's birthday. The first thing I do after being discharged is demand a divorce.

It was my twentieth birthday. My father presented me with the photos of many rich heiresses across the nation. He wanted me to pick the one to have a political marriage with. I told him I wanted to leave that in the hands of fate. Why? In my previous life, I picked Rachel Osborne, an heiress from Shampton. And I did that without hesitation. After we got married, I found out her true love, Zacharias Newman, had gotten himself drunk at a bar. The reason? He was heartbroken that we got married. And while he was drunk, a robber mugged him and cut off his hand's tendons. He tried to kill himself three times, and who did my wife blame? Me. She extracted my family's assets and gave them all to her beloved. My family was left as an empty husk. And she let him cut our brake lines. Thanks to him, my family and I died in a horrifying car crash. This was my second life. This time, I chose Seraphina Oliviera, an heiress from Fortunopolis. She was someone who couldn't care less about worldly matters and was a God-fearing woman. Eventually, I showed up at the engagement with Seraphina, but that apparently drove Rachel mad.

My sister had struggled with severe depression for years, and the only thing that seemed to ease her pain was her dog, Toto, who had become her constant companion. But when her illness flared up again, Toto was nowhere to be found. Then, my husband, Lionel Cress's childhood sweetheart posted a picture of Toto on social media. [With her, it feels like you're here with me.] I lost it. I called Lionel in a frenzy, but despite being my sister's psychologist, he was completely indifferent. "Your sister has been sick for so long. How could she suddenly relapse just because Toto's gone for a few days?" When I rushed back home, I found my sister in the bathroom, her wrists cut. Later, Toto's body was discovered outside our building, with Lionel's gift to his childhood sweetheart—a ring—lying next to her. I buried both my sister and Toto, and left behind nothing but a divorce agreement. Lionel went crazy, desperately trying to find me.