The Society's Pet Daughter

I had everything planned a month in advance for our holiday. I was going to take my wife and daughter on a trip to see the country's beautiful landscapes, but just before we were supposed to leave, they both disappeared. I ended up standing alone in the pouring rain, trying to call them. My daughter's voice came through over the phone—it was cold and impatient. "Mommy's having dinner with Uncle Skyler. We don't want to go anymore." Right after that, the call was cut off. I had been blocked. They locked me out of the house on purpose and left me to freeze out there all night. The rain had already drenched me, and I was running a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Meanwhile, the two of them were off enjoying a vacation with Skyler Shire. That was the moment I knew—this marriage was well and truly over.

My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"

The buzzing of my phone in the middle of the night jolted me awake. On the other end of the line came a voice I could never forget. It was my daughter! However, she died three years ago!

My wife, a doctor, treated our daughter like a walking blood bank. When our daughter passed away, she took it even further. She transplanted her corneas into her old flame’s son. Before our daughter’s body was even cold, she was out having dinner with her ex and his son. They were celebrating that the boy could see again. She even went so far as to secretly burn our daughter’s body to get rid of any evidence. By the time I got there, all I saw was my daughter's ashes being swallowed up by the flames. I told her I wanted a divorce. She just sneered, “It’s only a daughter. Are you really going to divorce me over this?” But later, she was down on her knees, begging me not to leave her.

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

She was but a student, yet obliged to marry a man she had never met, for the sake of family. But this so-called husband cavorted daily with different women - and that was fine. Yet he still pestered her from time to time, laying hands on her improperly - clearly taking advantage! She dared not provoke, but flee she could. How bold of his mistress to brazenly visit their home. Well! This suited her own ends, giving them space as she retreated to her little nest, blissful in its coziness. Yet he barged in, occupying her bed. What vile man! Claiming he couldn't sleep without her - likely story! His company never lacked for women. Just as expected - a man's word is worthless. One moment embracing her, the next canoodling other women. She must keep her distance! Best they never meet again in this life!

Lucinda gets rejected by her mate, Alpha Killian after their first night. Heartbroken, she leaves, only to be captured by some men who think she's one of their runaway prostitutes. They bring her to a nightclub, where she is drugged and made to entertain the werewolves around. During the dance , she catches the attention of the Lycan king, Darcus.

Read about the unfortunate life of Mia Andres, a young artist who only wanted to make a name for herself in the art world, but got sold by her own parents to pay up a debt. Her life takes a drastic turn in the mansion of Alexander Hamilton, the man who bought her. Mia plans her escape but after spending up to two months in his house she began to discover that she had feelings for this man also she feel in love with his bratty daughter who only wanted to be with her. Just when she thought Alex might possibly have feelings for her also and end her escaping plan, she overhead a conversation between Alex and his sister that completely shattered her. " Look here Ria... There's nothing going on between Mia and I, and there would never be". That was is, she thought. This wasn't a Cinderella story, the poor girl doesn't get with the prince at last. With the help of Amelia, Alex sister in law Mia leaves the house and the country. What happens when she comes back a year after looking even more ravishing and a successful artists, not only that she came along with, Alexander's half brother Gregory who wanted nothing than to destroy Alexander? Would she help him destroy the man she was still in love with just because she feels that he could never love her? Or would she finally realize that she had been wrong all along?!

Difficult to get along with the in-laws, constant arguments with the only brother-in-law, worsened by the man labeled as her husband... it's like having your head detached while your toes are being tickled, making Samanta Kiehl constantly cultivate patience. Until her sincere love is rewarded with a divorce letter. Her question always spins in her head. Is this luck or misfortune for her? But Samanta remains Samanta. She lets it all resonate in her life. She believes that payback will come. Someday, there will be a life and a new man whom she will tread with tranquility. But when? Isn't human patience supposed to have its limits?

That night, Liam served me my usual evening tea. I trusted him completely—he was my mate, after all, and a respected healer of Thornpack. I shouldn't have. When I woke up the next morning, my head was spinning. The special safe where I kept the morphing inhibitor—the one I'd spent my entire savings to import from Europe for our daughter Isla—was empty. Racing to the healing center, I found Liam celebrating. He was handing out moon-blessed wine, beaming with pride as Natalie's daughter Anna showed off her perfect transformation. My inhibitor had been used on his first love's pup instead of our own daughter. The shock triggered something in my brain. When I collapsed, they diagnosed me with the rare tumor that plagued our kind. Without inhibitors, I couldn't stop Isla's transformation that came early, her six year old body couldn't handle the massive wolf form and the force ripped through her young body. And I, for one, don't even have enough money to keep her in a treatment center. She died in my arms three days later, her little claws drawing blood as the pain overwhelmed her. Until her last breath, she kept asking why Papa hadn't come. Now, in my cold, empty home, with the white porcelain urn containing her ashes on the table, I touch her and decide to sever our partnership.