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"You gave your body to a man who didn’t know what to do with it," Cane murmured, his breath hot on her skin. "Let us show you what it means to be wanted… by three." Riley gave everything to her marriage until she walked in on her husband and his stepsister cheating on her. The betrayal shattered her… but only for a moment as she proposes to the one thing he's always wanted: an open marriage. He thought she’d crumble. Instead, she chose revenge. And nothing stings more than the fact that she picked his three best friends to help her get it. Three ruthless bikers. Three men who don’t share unless it’s worth the risk. Three Alphas who made Riley theirs the moment she said yes to them. Now every night, she gives them what her husband took for granted—moans, surrender, and something dangerously close to love. He watches from the sidelines. Burning. Regretting but it's too late. Because she’s not just taking back her power—she’s making sure he feels what it’s like to be replaced. And the worst part? He never expected she’d fall for them. And that they’d fall for her. And Riley? She's only just started.

Takuto Kimura, 30 years old, a career elite, always dressed in a sharp suit, with his hair perfectly neat, looking like the lead character from《The Godfather》or《Yakuza Chronicles》. His daily life is a never-ending "battle": meetings, overtime, coffee to stay awake, and piles of reports. To outsiders, he is the epitome of a successful businessman, but inside, he's already overwhelmed by the pressure and suffocating under it. Every day, he finds himself thinking, "If only I could go back to being three years old, I wouldn’t have to deal with these damn files and KPIs." One late night, as he stares at his computer screen, drowning in self-doubt, fate suddenly gives him an unexpected "opportunity" “He is reborn, back to the age of three.”

I served three years in federal prison for the Don's precious Sophia, and then he suddenly fell for me. The day he came to pick me up, he had a sapphire necklace ready, the kind I'd begged him for once and never got. I dropped it onto the back seat without a second glance. His expression darkened. "If you have something to say, just say it. Don't take it out on things." I smiled. "Three years inside taught me never to keep anything valuable on me. It would only bring trouble." He swallowed hard and pulled me close. "That's over now. You have me. Whatever you want, I'll get it for you." I pushed him back. "Then give me my wedding ring." I'd told him once: if the day ever came that I was leaving, I'd take that ring with me. Three years had been more than enough to kill whatever love I had left.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

I spent eight years raising Dante's children. Three of them, and every single one belonged to him and his arranged wife Bianca. Not one was mine. I fought against it. I really did. But the Costello family needed heirs, and my background was too ordinary. The family would never accept me. Dante always had something to say about it. "Nora, once Bianca has the baby, I'll take you to the States. You can go to art school, open your own gallery. It's what your mother always wanted, isn't it?" Then Bianca had a son, and suddenly the family needed a daughter too, someone they could marry off to another faction. When the daughter came, the elders stepped in and said the mob was a bloody business and you needed enough children to guarantee the line would continue. Eight years. I went from Dante's lover to something worse than a servant. Then I got pregnant. I was so happy I could barely breathe when I told him. I thought this baby would finally be our way out. But there was no smile on his face. Just a look that was pained and apologetic, like he already knew what he was going to say. "Nora, you don't have a place in this family. Neither does your child. He'd disrupt the line of succession. We can't let him be born." I pressed my hand to my stomach, just barely starting to show. Hot tears hit the floor. Fine. If we couldn't leave together, I would leave alone.

In my previous life, my brother and fiancé teamed up to sabotage my company for the sake of my so-called best friend. After I went bankrupt, they stood beside her watching me collapse in the pouring rain, laughing mockingly at my pathetic state. "Linda Turner, you look as pathetic as a drenched dog!" they sneered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the project bidding meeting three years earlier. In my previous life, when my company was just starting out, my brother and fiancé had warned me against using the Turner and Peterson family connections. They claimed it wouldn't be fair to others, but then turned around and handed projects to my best friend under various pretexts, just to see her smile. Now that I was back, I watched them secretly manipulating things just like before, giving my projects to my best friend. I finally gave up on them completely. When they found out I was leaving the country, my brother and fiancé set off fireworks all night, celebrating that they'd finally gotten rid of me, the burden. But three years later, at the Trada Corp's bidding meeting, I took the stage as the CEO's wife—and they couldn't hide the redness in their eyes.

"Vera, you are accused of conspiring with the Petrov Group to assassinate the family's future Donna, Sylvia. This tribunal is now in session." In the center of the tribunal, a syringe filled with a dark green liquid glinted under the lights. My former fiancé, Rocco, the new Don of the Corleone family, sat on the dais, disgust plain on his face. "Confess. Let everyone see the monster you are behind that mask." Sylvia leaned against his chest, a faint smile on her lips. She thought I would finally break, my reputation in ruins. Shackled to the accused's chair, a smile of faint relief touched my lips. "Rocco, are you sure you want to do this?" "Use that needle, and there's no going back."

So here's the thing about being adopted by a junkie sex worker: you learn real fast that nobody's coming to save you, and the world doesn't give a shit about your potential. I got out and got a scholarship to some fancy boarding school where rich kids pretend they're better than you because their parents bought their way in instead of fucking their way through. Silvercrest Academy; prestigious, elite and completely fucking weird. Like, weird enough that my roommate has fangs and my lab partner's eyes glow in the dark and the three hottest guys on campus won't leave me alone for reasons I can't figure out. Dante—the golden boy who looks at me like I'm a problem he's trying to solve. Jax—the TA who tried to intimidate me until I put him on his ass, and now he follows me around like an angry cat that hasn't decided if it wants to be pet or bite me. Elias—the too-pretty rich boy who asks too many questions and looks at me like I'm the answer to something he's not saying out loud. I thought I was here to study genetics, turns out I'm the genetics. Aether bloodline that is believed to be ancient and extinct except apparently not, because I'm standing here with gold in my hair that won't dye out and an allergy to silver that makes no sense and power I don't know how to use sitting under my skin like a loaded gun. Someone's trying to kill me for it and through it all, three wolves telling me I'm their mate—which would be flattering if I wasn't too busy trying not to die to figure out what the fuck that means.

This is the sequel to "Trio of Mates" (can be found on here) and is NOT a stand-alone book. I felt as if I had just fallen asleep when flashes and fragments of dreams began to play through my mind. They are disjointed, speeding through my mind almost too fast to catch. There is Charlie holding two pups in her arms, the pack being attacked on the western front, Arya fallen to her knees sobbing in the middle of a battlefield, funeral pyres, me looking down at my pregnant stomach with Gael and Hakeem smiling down at me, whoops of victory, and wails of defeat. As the images flit through my mind, a voice enters the chaos. “A war of threes. Three deaths. Three victories. Three trios. Three losses. Betrayal. Birth. Death. Sorrow. Joy. Warn them, Meredith. Be prepared!”

Olivia has had a year of fun with Blake and Sebastian. Suddenly Sebastian’s strong, demanding personality gets worse and Olivia can't keep up with him. She doesn't want to upset Blake but she doesn't want to lose Sebastian either. Sadly that decision is made for her.