Regreso Al Ejército Tras El Divorcio

Maxwell has always been the black sheep,ignored by his mother, mocked by his stepbrother, and discarded by the very family he once saved.

Three months before my wedding, my fiancé, Henry Siebert, decided it was the perfect time to drop a maternity photo shoot on social media—with my foster sister, Betty Foster. The caption? Oh, just this gem: [Legally welcoming our little one into the world.] Betty added a shy emoji. And my mom? She liked the post and wrote: [Once the baby is born, I'll help take care of it so you two can enjoy your time together as a couple.] I couldn't help myself. I replied with a single question mark. And then Henry's DMs came in hot: [She's just borrowing me for a year to get married. Once the baby's born, I'll come back to you.]

Divorciados y vueltos a casar. Ya ni sé cuántas veces Aaron y yo hemos pasado por lo mismo. Antes me trataba como si yo fuera lo más valioso para él, pero no había pasado ni un año de la boda cuando me pidió el divorcio por primera vez. La razón era sencilla: Vivian iba a regresar. —Vivian es una figura pública —me dijo—. No quiero que nadie piense que se está metiendo con un hombre casado. Esa actriz de cuarta no era nadie si no fuera por el sacrificio de su padre. Le dieron un balazo que iba para Aaron. Una vida por otra. Y por eso, Aaron sentía que le debía todo. Cada vez que Vivian volvía al país, Aaron se divorciaba de mí. Y cada vez que se iba, nos volvíamos a casar. La primera vez que terminamos, ahogué mis penas en whisky y volví a su casa a tropezones, medio borracha. Las luces de la casa se veían cálidas. Estaba con ella. Y yo me quedé afuera, temblando de frío, resistiendo la noche entera. La segunda vez, le seguí el rastro a todos lados; restaurantes, subastas, galas de beneficencia, solo para “encontrármelo por accidente” una y otra vez. Con el tiempo, aprendí. En cuanto mencionaba el divorcio, yo hacía mi maleta en silencio y me iba de su mansión sin hacer ruido. Mi amor y la humillación me mantuvieron atrapada en ese ciclo interminable de rupturas y reconciliaciones. Pero esta vez, cuando Aaron me esperó en el registro civil para volver a casarnos, no fui.

I manage to drag Jared Sheppard from death's door. Since then, I've accompanied him from his poorest times all the way to the current moment, when he's now worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day his company goes public, he gets engaged to another woman. "Gabrielle, she's different from you. She's an actual princess of the elite. I need to give her an official title, so I can't fool around with you anymore." I never bothered defending myself. It's time for this farce to end, anyway. After all, there's still a man waiting for me at home, who's been calling me his princess since I was a little girl.

After returning from studying abroad, I prepared to honor my childhood betrothal. But on the very day I went to pick up my wedding gown, I saw my million-dollar couture dress worn by a poverty-stricken girl whom my fiancé had been secretly supporting. When I demanded the gown back, I was scolded as a homewrecker and mocked as a loveless hag. My fiancé excused her, saying the girl had never seen the world, and I should be more accommodating. Well, I've always loved charity. If giving away a million-dollar dress counts as charity, then fine—I'll even let go of the engagement, too. But let it be known: not just anyone can be engaged to the Vance heiress.

This Thanksgiving, Elmer Fuller finally agrees to go on a trip with me. But when I wake up in the hotel, I don't see him anywhere. I spend the entire day desperately searching for him, only to stumble across a social media post from his first love. It's a selfie of her and Elmer having a cozy family dinner with her parents. The caption reads, "Someone's finally meeting the parents on Thanksgiving night. Mom and Dad can stop pressuring me to get married now!" Around her neck is the scarf my mother knitted for me before she passed. I left a comment. "Stop using my things to flirt with my husband. Take the scarf off—you can have him." Not long after, she posts an update. The scarf is shredded into pieces and tossed into a dog bed, with the caption, "What trash—too filthy even for a dog!" Elmer likes the post.

After graduation, I spend a year interning with my mentor, a healer, out in the neutral lands—no packs, no laws, and no one to protect me. My brother, the Lycan Chairman of all werewolves, nearly loses his mind over it. He's terrified I'll fall for some Rogue and impulsively form a reckless mate bond. As such, he handpicks an arranged mate for me—Falcon Sterling, the Alpha of the strongest pack in Northmere. He's handsome and dangerous, a legendary figure. My brother orders me to come home for the mating ceremony, so I have no choice but to go pick out a Luna crown. At the jewelry shop, my eyes snap straight to a crown made of pure silver and covered in diamonds. Just as I reach out to take it, a sharp female voice cuts in. "I like the one she's holding. I'll take it. Hand it over." Before I can react, the clerk snatches the crown right out of my hands, nearly scraping my skin. I straighten up, forcing myself to stay calm. "Ever heard of 'first come, first served?' I saw it first. Is this how you do things here?" The she-wolf slowly turns toward me, casting me a long, mocking look. "This crown costs 300 thousand dollars. You sure you can afford it, peasant? I grew up with the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, Falcon Sterling. Around here, I make the rules." I stare at her, almost laughing. Isn't that funny? Falcon just happens to be my arranged mate. I pull out my phone and press the call button. "Hey, Falcon. Your adorable childhood sweetheart just stole the Luna crown I'm supposed to wear for the mating ceremony. What do you think I should do about that?"

At my wedding rehearsal, my fiancé's colleague, Haley Rhodes burst in and tore apart the carefully arranged decor. "Ryan promised he'd marry me!" she shrieked, storming closer, "Who do you think you are?" Without warning, she lunged, grabbing hold of the wedding gown, which was worth a fortune. But she only got so far—she was too heavyset to even squeeze it past her head. I let out a mocking laugh. "Don't tell me you're too big to fit even a plus-size wedding dress?" That really set her off. With grim determination, she forced herself into the gown. But as soon as she did, the delicate fabric tore, leaving absurdly stretched holes across her back and waist. "Too bad the dress is ruined now. But who cares?" she sneered triumphantly. "Ryan loves me. He’ll buy me another wedding gown, anyway." But when the actual wedding began, she got the shock of her life. The groom walking down the aisle wasn’t Ryan at all. It was their boss — Ryan and Haley's boss. Well, I never said this was my wedding.

I've loved Jonathan Pickle for half my life. I used my family's resources to help him attain success. However, in the third year of our marriage, he brought his mistress home to stomp all over my pride. That wasn't the worst of it—he even destroyed my family. … I open my eyes to see Jonathan in his university days. Unexpectedly, I'm not the only person who's been given a second chance at life.

My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours. "What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse." "Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you." I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.