Rebirth

Quentin Quandt—Shane Fuchner's uncle—killed himself. After he died, someone found a drawer stuffed with unsent love letters. Every single one had my name on it. So when life hit rewind and Mom asked if I wanted to marry Shane, my childhood friend, I said no. I picked Quentin. Here's the thing—I got reborn. Last time, I chose Shane. Huge mistake. He was hardly ever home after we got married. And when I started bleeding from a miscarriage, he ditched me because Ceryn Schuck—his first love—texted, [The power's out and I'm scared.] He didn't even hesitate. I died that night. So did the baby. And Shane? He didn't cry. Just whined that my death ruined his vacation plans with her. Then I woke up—right back at the moment Mom asked who I wanted to marry...

Brandon Fenton, a scholarship student my father had been supporting, was drugged one night. After some consideration, I chose to lie beneath him. I had loved him for ten years. Giving myself to him felt like something I had long decided, something I owed to that love. But everything fell apart the moment Melissa Giles, his childhood sweetheart, walked in on us. Before she could even process what she saw, she ran out in a panic and was struck by a passing car, killing her on the spot. Brandon held me afterward, telling me it wasn't my fault. He even proposed to me. Because of that, Dad placed the entire company into his hands. But the day before our wedding, he set his plans in motion. He deliberately caused a car accident that took Dad's life. When I was at my lowest, drowning in grief, Brandon took me deep into the woods. There, he drove his car over my body, crushing me repeatedly just so I could feel the same agony Melissa had suffered before she died. "If you hadn't drugged me, why would I have ever touched you? If not for you, Melissa would still be alive! I hate you. All of you deserve to die!" And then, after the pain reached its unbearable peak... I opened my eyes and found myself back on the very day Brandon was drugged.

After I get reborn, I've orchestrated every missed moment with my biological parents. When they want to take my adopted sister, Simone Graham, to take a family portrait, I'll take cold showers so that I can catch a fever. When they decide to book a cruise ship overseas in order to celebrate Simone's birthday, I join a classified project, which stops me from leaving the country. When they start a company for Simone, I quickly apply to get dispatched to South City, which is 600 miles away from my hometown. I also make sure to declare that I will never fight with Simone over anything in life. In my previous lifetime, Simone and I had been fighting over our parents' affection for decades. But all I got were comments on how manipulative and cunning I was. Everyone preferred Simone, who was pure and innocent, while showing disdain toward me, who was a woman of little words. Even my own husband and child couldn't understand my pain at all. "We're all family here, aren't we? Can't you just stop your dramatics for a few days? Whenever I come home, you always start a fight and cause unrest among everyone! You really should reflect on your own actions!" Just like that, I died on my sickbed all alone. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I get accepted back into my family. This time, I'm not going to fight anymore. I'm going to live for myself instead.

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.

At my coming-of-age party, Dad told me to choose one of the three boys I had grown up with to marry into the family. The first to step back was my childhood friend, the boy who had grown up with me in the orphanage. The second was the bodyguard’s son, who had once taken three knife wounds for me. He shook his head without hesitation. As for the man I was supposed to marry through a family alliance, the same man who had held me just yesterday and promised he would never marry anyone but me, he looked at me with open ridicule. “Mr. Deen, isn’t this a bit too much? Everyone knows Emma was kidnapped for more than ten years. Those kidnappers were insane. Who knows what they might’ve done? I’m not about to marry damaged goods. If you’re really serious about an alliance, why not marry your other daughter, Isabella, to me instead? Someone like Emma is only suited for men who live in the shadows.” He glanced around the room, then pulled a boy from the corner—a quiet young man who had been standing there with his head lowered. Together with the other two, he laughed as they shoved me straight into the boy’s arms. “What a perfect match!” one of them jeered. “The used goods and a bastard son!” What was supposed to be a grand ceremony to choose my husband turned into a public humiliation for me alone. Later, they told me the reason they had done it was all part of a little game with Isabella. “As long as Bella is happy, we can honor our promises to you afterward.” They all assumed I would do what I had always done before—swallow the humiliation and shamelessly continue following them around. However, this time, I didn’t want to humiliate myself anymore, because I was indeed getting married, and the groom was the very man they pushed into my arms earlier that night. As for Isabella and their little game, I wasn’t playing along anymore.

The Bloodfang Pack’s Alpha has declared a grand warrior match. A test of strength, cunning, and dominance. The werewolf who emerges victorious will not only earn the title of champion but will also claim his most beautiful daughter as a mate. But everyone knows this is just a formality. No matter who wins, I should be the one to marry Harken Shadowfang. He and I grew up together, our wolves intertwined by years of shared hunts and whispered promises beneath the full moon. He has always been my destined mate—or so I thought. The match begins, and Harken deliberately loses. I watch as he kneels in the dirt, breathing heavily, his sharp golden eyes flicking toward me with something cruel, something mocking. A chill runs down my spine. Why? Why would he do this? The victor stands tall, his fur still bristling from the heat of battle. Alaric Jaggedmane. A warrior through and through, his aura is heavy with the weight of a true Alpha—something Harken never had. Without hesitation, I step forward, lifting the warrior’s wreath. "Congratulations," I say, my voice steady. "You're now my husband." A furious snarl rips through the air. Harken storms toward me like a rabid beast, his fangs bared, his hands trembling as he snatches the wreath from my grasp. "Why didn't you pick me?" he demands, his voice bordering on madness. I meet his gaze without fear. Because in my past life, I did. I chose him. I thought he loved me. I thought we would be happy. But I was a fool. After my father’s death, Harken locked me away, keeping me weak with silver-laced drugs while he took his true mate, Ravyn Evermoon, to public events at his side. I was nothing but a tool. A stepping stone for his ambitions. A title to secure his rule. It was only then that I learned of his betrayal— of the three children he had already fathered with her. And so now, with this second chance granted to me by the Moon Goddess herself, I do not waver. I will not be Harken’s pawn again.

In my last life, my sister, Raven Webster, and I rescued two eggs. Her egg hatched into Snowviper, while mine became Blazewing. But Raven stole Blazewing from me. None of us could have imagined the world would end in a brutal heatwave apocalypse. Raven died from heat stroke in that inferno. And before she died, she tricked my husband, Snowviper, into strangling me with his own tail. Somehow, we were both reborn on the very day those eggs hatched. This time, Raven snatched up Snowviper. She thought having him would keep her safe through the heatwave apocalypse. What she didn't know was that Snowviper's powers could only be fueled by drinking fresh human blood every single day.

My art studio caught fire. I risked my life to pull my boyfriend, Vincent Parcelle, out of the flames. Vincent wanted to rush back inside to save his first love, Tammy Reese, who was trapped inside. But I stopped him. The fire destroyed her face and left her legs amputated. Unable to face her disfigurement and disability, Tammy took her own life by overdosing on pills. Afterward, Vincent and I moved forward and got married. On our wedding night, he slit my throat without thinking twice. "If it weren't for you, Tammy wouldn't be dead. Go to hell and pay for your sins!" Only after dying did I realize—Vincent had hated me to the core ever since the fire. For some reason, I was reborn. Grateful that the heavens had given me another chance at life, I ran without looking back this time. To hell with love. I was determined to survive.

My dormmate, Summer Lodge, always uses heavy-duty electrical appliances to cook in our dorm. I kindly remind her that it's a fire hazard and that she'll get a demerit if the college finds her out, but she snaps at me and tells me to mind my own business. One day, her oven bursts into flames and burns one of our dormmates—the daughter of an affluent family—to death. When the college investigates the matter to apportion the blame, Summer and another dormmate push the blame on me. I'm expelled and cyberbullied. My dead dormmate's boyfriend even comes after me for revenge. He shoves me and my family into the furnace at a crematorium. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day when Summer decides to make a meal with the oven.

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.