Self-growth Books

I came into this world like a queen ascending her throne, flanked by three fierce guardians sworn to defend my reign. My husband is the best lawyer in Ardenfield. Though he's unbeatable in court, he doesn't dare stand up to me when I scold him at home. My childhood sweetheart leads the criminal investigation team and is a genius at solving cases. He even vows to eliminate any threat that surrounds me. Meanwhile, my adoptive brother is a rising star in the business world. Having inherited the Joplin family's business empire at an early age, he spends money on me without hesitation. Today marks both my seventh wedding anniversary and my birthday. I spend the entire day waiting for them at a rooftop restaurant, clutching a pregnancy test report in my hands. But instead of basking in celebration, I receive the heartbreaking news that my five-year-old daughter has drowned. To make matters worse, my husband decides to defend the culprit in court. When I cry out in agony, my childhood sweetheart puts me in handcuffs. My adoptive brother even goes to the extreme of reclaiming everything he has ever given me. "Louise, it was just an unfortunate accident between two children. Will you let Violet's son go now?"

I lost my eyesight to save Sean Sherman. He had once made a vow in front of everyone, "Rachel Todd, even if you can't see, I will take care of you for the rest of my life." I was deeply moved. I secretly sought out treatment and I kept the recovery of my eyesight a secret as a surprise for him. But on the day I regained my sight, I saw Sean holding his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Cross, in his arms, fooling around with her right in front of me. "You last really long today. Is it because your wife is watching us?" "What do you think? She was the one who bought me these protection products." I understood every word of their sign language. At that moment, my blood ran cold. Suppressing the nausea that was about to overwhelm me, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the research team that had been inviting me for a long time. I told them yes—I would join their research project. I was going to leave Sean behind and make sure he lived the rest of his life in regret.

After being reborn, I decided to write my sister's name on the marriage application. This time, I would help Sebastian Holt achieve his wishes. In this lifetime, I took the lead—I let my sister wear the wedding dress first and put the engagement ring on her finger. I personally orchestrated every encounter between Sebastian and my sister. When he took her to the capital city, I headed to Southport University without a second thought. In my previous life, even when I was over 50 years old, he and our son still knelt before me, begging for a divorce. This time, I would fulfill his final romantic destiny with my sister. Living this second life, all I wanted was to spread my wings and soar high, free from love's entanglements.

At my wedding, the giant screen that's supposed to show our photos suddenly switches to the groom's assistant's prenatal exam report. It clearly shows that he is the child's father. The assistant looks flustered and panicked as she rushes to apologize to me. The groom, on the other hand, stays perfectly calm and offers an explanation like it's no big deal. "I took pity on her because she got pregnant out of wedlock, so I went with her to the appointment and left my name. I'm going to be her kid's godfather, too." The day of her exam was also the day I went for my very first prenatal checkup. Everyone thinks I'll break down, but I simply reach up and tear off my veil. Then, I calmly schedule an abortion. "She really is pitiful, being pregnant without a partner by her side. She deserves this wedding more than I do." Then, I raise my champagne glass to congratulate him. "Congratulations to you both. May your shotgun wedding be a happy one, especially since it's happening with a bun in the oven."

By the third year of my mate bond with Caesar, the reigning Alpha, the she-wolf who had once abandoned him returned. For the thousand-and-first time, I launched into my well-rehearsed performance—the devoted, desperate mate. "Do you still love me?" I asked. And for the thousand-and-first time, Caesar turned away without a word, his silence a colder rejection than any shout. On the surface, I was the picture of heartbreak. Behind closed doors, I went straight to Caesar's uncle to collect a hefty payment for my performance. "Three years of this acting," I said. "Can I leave now?"

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.

The day I get engaged, my brother brings home a woman who's my age. He says she's his actual sister and accuses me of stealing her life for the past 20 years. Even my fiancé says she's his rightful wife. I'm kicked out of home. Meanwhile, my brother and fiancé take the true heiress traveling. They even give her the villa they had prepared for me. Half a month later, they suddenly remember it's my birthday. To their dismay, they find that they can't see me anymore—I've joined a secret ten-year project organized by the nation. They're supposed to be happy, but they now regret everything.

My husband's ex, Sarah Miller, once ditched him to chase a rich guy. When she came back, she was crippled, dragging along two scrawny kids. The day I found out I was pregnant, Jake Carter demanded a divorce. "Sarah is too weak to manage alone, and her kids need someone. I've got to step up," he said. I nodded calmly and went straight to the hospital for an abortion. In my past life, I fought to keep the baby and refused the divorce, even exposing Sarah's dirty secrets to the world. Her reputation was ruined. She became a pariah, and eventually, she took her kids and ended it all. In her blood-soaked suicide note, she blamed me for driving her to despair. Thus, Jake hated me to the core. He hired thugs to assault me, posted the video online, and spread lies that I was a cheater. In the end, he threw me and our child into the sea. As I died, he snarled, "This is what you get for killing Sarah!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day he demanded a divorce. This time, I agreed on the spot. Jake was thrilled, dreaming of winning Sarah back. What he didn't know was that, in my past life, I uncovered why Sarah was dumped. Her private life was a mess, and she caught AIDS.

Everyone in Sparrowville said that Margaret Chapman was the happiest woman in town. Gavin Hartley showered her with gifts—a sapphire ring, an asteroid after her name—treating her like she was the center of his universe. Margaret had always believed it, too. Until the day she accidentally discovered the woman he had been hiding in his villa. For ten years, he had kept her there—his childhood sweetheart. After she lost herself to schizophrenia, she had said, "Margaret is me." And so, for nearly seven years, Gavin had courted Margaret and cherished her, playing out a love story that had never truly been hers. Margaret's heart crumbled to ash after she found out the truth. She left without looking back, moving to a country thousands of miles away. But she never imagined that Gavin would lose himself to rage, his eyes burning red as he nearly tore Sparrowville apart. "Where the hell is Margaret?!"

On New Year's Eve, I prepare a feast. The clock strikes twelve, but my husband, Vincent Porter, still isn't home. My daughter, Lorelei Porter, tugs at my sleeve and holds up my phone. "Look Mommy, Daddy is at this lady's house!" Vincent has posted an update on Twitter. He is with Christine Snow, his childhood sweetheart. They are smiling at the camera, with a boy who looks about ten standing between them. In front of them sits a swan-shaped cake. The caption reads, "The most special day for the most special you." My heart sinks into my stomach. A marriage that came later in life can never compete with a pair of childhood sweethearts. I accept defeat.