Sweethearts

It was my twentieth birthday. My father presented me with the photos of many rich heiresses across the nation. He wanted me to pick the one to have a political marriage with. I told him I wanted to leave that in the hands of fate. Why? In my previous life, I picked Rachel Osborne, an heiress from Shampton. And I did that without hesitation. After we got married, I found out her true love, Zacharias Newman, had gotten himself drunk at a bar. The reason? He was heartbroken that we got married. And while he was drunk, a robber mugged him and cut off his hand's tendons. He tried to kill himself three times, and who did my wife blame? Me. She extracted my family's assets and gave them all to her beloved. My family was left as an empty husk. And she let him cut our brake lines. Thanks to him, my family and I died in a horrifying car crash. This was my second life. This time, I chose Seraphina Oliviera, an heiress from Fortunopolis. She was someone who couldn't care less about worldly matters and was a God-fearing woman. Eventually, I showed up at the engagement with Seraphina, but that apparently drove Rachel mad.

Divorced and remarried—I've lost count of how many times Aaron and I stepped in and out of marriage. He once treated me like something precious, but less than a year after our wedding, he asked for our first divorce. The reason was simple, Vivian was coming back. "Vivian's a public figure," he told me. "I don't want anyone thinking she's involved with a married man." That third-tier actress had nothing but her father's sacrifice to her name. He had taken a bullet for Aaron—a life for a life. And because of that, Aaron believed he owed her everything. Every time Vivian returned to the country, Aaron divorced me. And every time she left, we remarried. The first time we split, I drowned my tears in whiskey and stumbled back to his house half-drunk. The lights inside were warm. He was with her. And I stood outside, shivering through the night. The second time, I tracked his every move—restaurants, auctions, charity galas—just to "accidentally" run into him again. Later, I learned better. The moment he mentioned divorce, I would quietly pack my suitcase and disappear from his mansion. My love and humiliation kept me trapped in that endless cycle of breaking up and coming back together. But this time, when Aaron waited for me at City Hall to remarry, I never showed up.

"In the presence of the Moon Goddess and all members of the Pack, I, Damian, Alpha of Silvermoon Pack, officially reject Seraphina as my mate!” On the day of my Mating Ceremony when I was twenty, my childhood Alpha and Fated Mate, Damian, brought back an unfamiliar female werewolf, Vivian. He claimed that on the Night of Souls, the silhouette of the Fated Soul he had seen was hers, not mine. “Vivian has told me everything. You gave me a Hallucination Potion to make me believe my Fated Mate was you. Now, it’s time to correct that mistake!” The moment the words left his mouth, my heart felt like it was being torn apart. Pain ripped through my whole body. Our Mate Bond splintered, inch by inch. I dropped to my knees, blood trickling from the corner of my lips as I clutched my chest. My other childhood friend and also the pack’s Beta, Ethan, just watched coldly. “There was never a Mate Bond between you and Damian. Enough with your pitiful act! The more you do this, the more we’ll despise you.” The mate I loved most, and the friend I trusted the most, teamed up to rub my nose in the dirt in front of everyone. Their words were like knives, gutting me open bit by bit. Staggering, I turned and fled from the pack. Once, it was a place that held all my happiness. Now, there was only coldness and betrayal. None of them cared, convinced I was just throwing a tantrum and would come crawling back sooner or later. It wasn’t until weeks later that they learned I had begun the Healer’s closed-door training. All ties must be severed, and complete solitude was required. I wasn't allowed to return for ten years. That was the moment they finally fell apart.

Before Valentine's Day, I received a message from Caleb Spencer. It was a screenshot of a seven-figure bill for a necklace. It was meant for me, but he bought it for another woman. I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I quietly kept cleaning the house. Since we got married, every month brought new gossip about Caleb. Some came from the internet, some from nosy friends, and some even from Caleb himself. By now, I'd become the joke of the whole social circle. But it didn't matter. This life wasn't going to last much longer anyway.

The Rossi mafia family followed an ancestral rule. Before marriage, the heir received one chance each year to draw lots. Drawing a fortunate lot meant he could choose his own spouse and avoid an arranged marriage. Dante Rossi drew an unfortunate lot for five consecutive years, and I, who had been dating him for seven years, never managed to marry him. This year marked the sixth year. I overheard his conversation with Marco Valentino, the Underboss. "Mr. Rossi, you drew a fortunate lot again." Dante's voice carried an unprecedented coldness. "Same as always, switch it to an unfortunate lot." Marco hesitated, then tried to persuade him. "Mr. Rossi, you've switched it for five years straight. Aren't you worried Celia will leave? Celia's the most beautiful woman in Nopales. Half the men in the city are chasing her." Dante said with absolute certainty, "She won't. Celia loves me too much. She won't marry anyone else. "Years ago, Livia's father died saving me. His dying wish was for me to stay by her side for five years. After this year ends, I'll give Celia a grand wedding as compensation." My last shred of hope died after I heard those words. Dante probably did not know that the Rossi family had one final ancestral rule. If the heir failed to draw a fortunate lot six times, he would lose the right to choose his own marriage. Moreover, I would soon be marrying someone else.

Liam Pearce is supposed to be celebrating our daughter's birthday when she dies after ingesting wolfsbane. Instead, he's with a human woman as she goes for a prenatal checkup at the hospital. My daughter's dying wish is to celebrate her birthday with both her parents. However, she ultimately dies with regrets. My heart dies with her. I take her ashes to the place she most looked forward to going to in life. That's when I see Liam kissing another woman. She leans into his arms and asks daintily, "Isn't your daughter sick, Liam? Why do you have time to be with me?" "Don't even mention her. Sofia, that scheming woman, must be using that as an excuse to keep me there. You're the one I love the most, sweetheart," he says dotingly. "What about your daughter, then? Who do you love more, me or her?" "You, of course. You're my darling Mia." His words stun me like a bolt of lightning. After crying my heart out, I pack my daughter's belongings. I decide to leave Liam forever. However, he and the rest of the royal family get on their knees before me. They beg me not to leave.

I marry the comatose heir of Jebony's most affluent family for the ten million dollars in wedding gifts. In the year after the wedding, I undergo 12 rounds of IVF and finally give birth to the Larkin family's successor. When our son turns five, Jacob Larkin miraculously wakes up. The media goes wild, calling me the Larkin family's lucky star. They say I'll live a life of endless privilege. I merely smile—the first look Jacob gives me after waking up is one full of disdain. He even warns me icily, "You're nothing more than a woman my father paid to bear me an heir. Don't kid yourself that I'll ever fall for you! "I grew up with Angela. If not for that accident, you would never have become my wife." I hand him the divorce papers and say calmly, "I'll step aside, then. I'll give you and Ms. Lloyd what you want."

My parents set me up on a marriage match—and it turned out to be my girlfriend, Chloe. I was hyped. I went straight to the luxury boutique where she worked, ready to tell her. Then I stopped outside the VIP room. "Chloe, if you're dumping him, just do it. Why fake cancer? You're putting bad juju on yourself." "What do you know? A dead ex sticks forever. Next week, I'm getting engaged to a Remington. Having an ex like me? That's his win." Inside, her friends hyped her up. Laughter all around. I just stood there, cold spreading through me. Three years. A joke to her. She was trading up—and still playing me one last time. I clenched my jaw and called my mom. "Mom, cancel the engagement... No rush. I'll handle it myself."

My wife, Rosalind Judd, has been tearing up our marriage certificate 99 times in the past ten years of our marriage. This is her usual tactic to make me apologize and make amends. The first time, I transfer 100 thousand dollars for Rosalind to come back from her travel abroad with her childhood friend, Jackson Lane. The tenth time, she ruins the anniversary I have prepared meticulously and forces me to immediately help him get back to work. The 50th time, she humiliates me in front of my client during the day and forces me to sign over the transfer agreement to a villa at night, while she has a candlelit dinner with Jackson. ... Now, for the 100th time, she forces me to transfer my company shares. Staring at the love bites on Rosalind's collarbone, I suddenly chuckle. Then, I board the plane decisively. This time, I no longer want her.

On the day of the college entrance examination, my boyfriend's childhood friend realizes she has left her admission pass at home. He insists on going back to get it for her, but I try to stop him. In the end, she misses her liberal arts examination. Driven to despair, she jumps to her death. Later, my boyfriend and I are both admitted to Bloomdale University, the best university in the country. We build successful careers and earn seven-figure salaries—our marriage is perfect. However, on the death anniversary of my boyfriend's childhood friend, he stabs me repeatedly, taking my life. "It was your fault she died," he says. "If I had gone back to get Ginger's admission pass, she wouldn't have lost hope and taken her life." When I open my eyes again, I realize I am back on the same day of the examination. My boyfriend's anxious voice rings in my ear. "Amelia, I need to go back to get Ginger's examination admission pass." This time, I smile and say, "Go ahead. Please be careful."