She Said She Adores Me

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

Every year, my wife, Jessica Lowe, prepares a huge surprise for me on our wedding anniversary. On the night of our tenth anniversary, she enters the banquet hall with a scantily-dressed male model. She demands that I take off my suit and put it on him instead. I refuse and take out a divorce agreement. In retaliation, Jessica slaps a thick stack of photos onto the table. The photos show me at my most humiliated, shameful, and pathetic moments. She sneers, "Michael Jefferson, you talk about divorce all the time. But each time, you always end up crawling back to me with your tail between your legs, begging me to take you back. "Tell me, what will your comatose mother think if these pictures of you get out? Will she finally wake up in the hospital from shame and embarrassment?" However, Jessica doesn't know that my mother, Eleanor Brown, passed away months ago.

Always unwanted, never desired. All my life, that’s what I experienced. An illegitimate daughter to a struggling cruel businessman, living under the shadow of the golden child Mira. The perfect one, always seeking adventure and freedom. So much so that she ran away from her responsibility: the arranged marriage with Tristan Blake. The deal that will save the business. I had to step up. Not just because I had to do it, but because I’m in love with Tristan. Only for him to call me a gold-digger and drop me as soon as I bring him the news of my pregnancy with twins. Now I have to leave and file for divorce. What none of them know is that I will return, with my genius babies and my title as an heiress….

Remi Puth had been married to Lacy Web for seven years and had poured her heart and soul into raising their five-year-old son, lan. But despite everything she had done, lan turned his back on her and chose another woman as his new mother—while Lacy was also having an affair with that very woman right under her nose. Remi had never imagined that one day both Lacy and lan would cast her aside for someone else. She asked for a divorce and even gave up custody of lan before walking away with her head held high. Years later, she has reinvented herself into a confident woman. Now, both Lacy and lan are drowning in regret, desperately chasing after her—but by then, it's already too late.

Charlie Wayne’s life is perfect. Or it was. As a VP who commands boardrooms and a playboy who elegantly ends every date at his door by 3 AM, Charlie’s world is built on control. But lately, his system has a glitch. A streak of bizarre, comically bad luck—flat tires at dawn, mysterious fire alarms, untimely food poisoning—keeps derailing his plans. His flawless exit strategy is in shambles. Carly Dorrington’s life is a lie. But a necessary one. After a blowout fight with her father over their family companies’ merger, Carly needs a place to stay. Where better than with her childhood best friend, Charlie? It’s just temporary. Just two best friends sharing a space. It has nothing to do with the two decades she’s spent loving him from the sidelines, or the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, proximity will make the world’s most oblivious man finally see her. Now, under his roof, the "coincidences" multiply. Charlie’s chaotic love life grinds to a halt just as Carly’s presence becomes a permanent, comforting fixture. His sacred rules don’t seem to apply to her. His peaceful solitude feels warmer with her in it. As the lines of their friendship blur, Charlie is left to wonder: Is Carly the calm in the center of his storm… or is she the one who’s been stirring it up all along? Note: This is a slow-burn, dual-POV story about best friends, blurred lines, and the long game. If you find yourself wondering"where is this going?" in the early chapters... keep reading. Everything becomes clear in Chapter 4. The foundation is being laid for a reason. Thank you for trusting the process.

“I’m pregnant too.” Sonia, my husband’s girlfriend said to me with a voice lifts with theatrical innocence. “Chase doesn’t know yet,” she continues casually. “I wanted to wait till the divorce is finalized. That way everyone will know I didn’t need to trap him with a baby… like you did.” There it is. The knife twist. Her eyes glitter with triumph as she walks out. I open my tote bag. The divorce agreement slides out easily. A thick stack of paper demanding my complete surrender of any claim to the Warren empire. In exchange for freedom. The woman who fractured herself trying to build a family out of dust is gone. I slide the signed documents into the top drawer of Chase’s desk. Let him find it. Let him choke on it.

I was just the mate of the Alpha fated mate and the nanny to my child, not his Luna. I dedicated my life to him, but he never loved me—this was all because I was just a wolfless omega. Until his ex returned, everyone, including my mate and even my child, looked down on me. Everyone believed she should be the Luna. I turned and walked out of the house, choosing to live for myself. Three months later, I became the world’s most renowned white wolf healer, appearing on television. Son (shocked): "Dad, is that... my mom on TV?"

I built my wife’s family business from the ground up, sacrificing everything so that her world could thrive. The night I collapsed from stomach bleeding after too many business drinks, she was out laughing with her childhood sweetheart. She even had the nerve to call me dull and uptight. I smiled when I finally handed her the divorce papers. “I wish you both a happy life together.” But instead of signing it, she tore it to pieces, tears in her eyes. “I’m not letting you go,” she said.

In my previous life, my sister, Clarissa Smith, and I were adopted at the same time. She chose the Newmans, a prestigious family of scientists, leaving me with an impoverished divorcee. But later on, the Newmans kicked her out, and her reputation was completely ruined. Meanwhile, I'd married rich and had tens of millions of dollars from the government's relocation compensation package. Clarissa couldn't accept how differently our lives turned out, so she stabbed me to death. When my eyes open once more, I find myself alive again. I've gone back in time to the day Clarissa and I were adopted. To my surprise, I can hear her thoughts. [This time, I'm going to be the one who gets rich overnight!] As it turns out, she has been reborn as well. Well, this time around, she can be the one who gets to endure the torment instead.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.