Thirty But Seventeen

Lyra Jenkins’ heart is shattered, devoid of hope and her world in tatters with the guilt of everyone perceiving her as the murderer of her beloved father. However, she finds solace in the arms of an unexpected lover, Caleb Sawyer. But her respite is short-lived, as he callously chooses another woman over her, leaving her reeling in a deep dilemma of despair. Then the bitter ashes of betrayal and rejection settle in, and she resolves to reveal her true identity, driven by a thirst for revenge. In this bleak world, can Lyra find redemption? Can she break free from this toxic cycle, or will the shadows of her past forever define her future? Will she give him a second chance if he seeks forgiveness? Hell no! Second chances are not meant for scumbags like him.

Claire Shaw, my wife of 27 years and I had already fallen out of love with each other. Having picked up on that fact, our children, Jason and Monica Bennett, started giving me advice. "Dad, you and Mom are still relatively young. You two deserve to continue pursuing the lives you want." "That's right, Dad. You can't just force a marriage to go on. We support you in getting a divorce." With Jason and Monica's support, Claire and I soon got divorced. Monica took it upon herself to introduce another woman to me. Soon, I began a new relationship. But when I was about to get married, Claire took me to court and accused me of cheating on her while we were still married. Jason and Monica showed up at the court trial as witnesses as well. They proved that I had indeed cheated on Claire in our marriage. I couldn't defend myself at all. In the end, I was forced to give up everything I owned. My new girlfriend, Linda Calcraft, and I were heavily targeted by the entire Internet. "Hey, old geezer! Just how shameless are you to look for a mistress when you're already dying?" "You're already old enough to become a grandfather, and yet you're still filing for a divorce? You and that mistress are better off together!" Some extremists strapped me and Linda to the bed. They dumped gasoline all over us before setting us on fire, leading to our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Jason and Monica try to convince me to get a divorce.

I was the real daughter of the Sinclair family, yet I was the one abandoned when their fake daughter and I were kidnapped and taken to the top of a building. They were given a choice between the two of us, and they chose to save the fake daughter, letting me be pushed off from the eighteenth-floor balcony. Even though I survived, I was completely disappointed in them. Then, their attitudes changed overnight. My parents, who despised me, started asking me about my likes and dislikes. My brother who wished me dead, started suddenly giving me precious jewelry. Even my fiancé, who always claimed I was nothing compared to the fake daughter, started to prepare for our wedding. To say I was confused was an understatement.

When my eyes were gouged out, my mother was shopping with my cousin. When I was forced to drink a bottle of acid and died in agony, she snapped impatiently, “Kara, can’t you be as well-behaved as Wendy? If you’re just going to run away, then don’t bother calling me!” However, when she saw the crime scene, she rushed outside and threw up. As a criminal psychologist specially hired by the River City police, how could she feel sick at the sight of her own daughter’s body?

Five years ago, my family died in a car crash. My parents. My adopted sister, Liz. Everyone but me. They left behind grief, an empty house, and a debt so large it swallowed my life. When the collectors came, I turned to the only person I had left—my husband, Adrian. He told me he had cut ties with his own family to marry me and had nothing left. I believed him. For five years, I worked every job I could find, paid every dollar I earned, and told myself love was worth the suffering. When the balance dropped to its final $18,000, I signed up for a paid drug trial at a private clinic. They handed me a waiver, warned me about possible delayed reactions, and promised fast money if I swallowed the experimental dose. I thought it would buy us a new beginning. Instead, I came home early and heard Adrian on the phone. “Let Liz use the card. Evelyn still doesn’t know. She took away Liz’s money five years ago, so she has to earn every dollar back herself.” Then he laughed softly. “One more year, and her punishment is over.” That was how I learned the dead were alive. The debt was fake. My husband had never been poor. And the life I had fought so hard to survive was only a sentence they had given me.

The king orders me to spend three days in a trial marriage with four beastmen separately and pick one to be my consort. The first beastman is a naga, which means double the fun down there. The second beastman is a werefox who has the fluffiest tail. The third beastman is a lycan. His kind is known for having the strongest core strength. The fourth beastman, on the other hand, is Julius Lockewood, a cervitaur I've liked since childhood. After I'm drugged, I reject the other three beastmen and search desperately for Julius while tremors rack my body. However, I end up overhearing his friend laugh and say, "Julius, you rascal. I can't believe you drugged the princess just to win a bet that she would keep herself pure for you. Aren't you worried that she'll go to someone else instead?" Julius snorts indifferently. "She's crazy in love with me. Cervitaurs prefer virgins. If she loses her virginity, she'll have no chance of marrying me. She wouldn't dare. I bet that even if she were driven mad with lust, she wouldn't touch anyone else." Heartbroken, I follow the king's orders and enter a trial marriage with each of the other three beastmen. When Julius comes to my house, he hears me beg, "Don't put your tail there…" It makes him so angry that he loses his mind. When the royal decree is issued, he gets on his knees and begs me to stay with him.

Her eyes flashed in his direction, a sudden alarm making the hair on her neck stand straight on end, "You can not hurt me. I'll kill you first." "I don't doubt it," he nodded. "But can I atleast have a taste?" “Look, I don't have enough blood to feed your wolf with. We could go on a hunt now if you want.” She sucked in her breath, "But expecting that you'll be feeding on my blood all the time? That is not going to happen." He sprang to his feet, standing in her way, "I didn't only mean I wanted a taste of your blood, Kris." "Don't call me that!" It felt too comfortable on his lips. "Alright, Kris," he drawled stubbornly, "I meant that I also want a taste of your lips. Because the next time I feed on your blood, and I'm going to, I won't want it to come from your wrist, I would want it to come from your neck– and possibly your lips." ** ** ** Two brothers; one an Alpha and the other a Rogue, must fight an age long prophecy which promises destruction to one and redemption to the other. But all this can only happen if one of them claims The Silver Wolf. But Earl Malory, Alpha of New Knight Pack has already laid his claims on the fiesty beautiful Lady Alpha, Laurel Kris without realizing she might be the trouble he’s been running from. But when his brother shows up to claim the Alpha’s new bride on their bonding night, all hell breaks loose. To defeat his rogue brother, Earl must either keep the Silver Wolf by his side or kill her to save his own life. But he might be willing to take chances, which opens him to new enemies.

In a desperate bid to save her family from financial devastation and her mother's life-threatening illness, Emily Fields makes a Faustian pact with the enigmatic billionaire Richard Grey. He demands she sign a contract to become his wife and serve as his personal secretary, a proposition that leaves Emily with little choice but to comply. As she navigates the complexities of her new role and Richard's frosty demeanor, Emily finds herself drawn to his charming and handsome nephew, Alex Grey. Torn between duty and desire, Emily's life becomes a delicate balancing act. As her forbidden attraction to Alex intensifies, she must confront the risks of following her heart versus fulfilling her obligations. Will she risk everything for love, or will the contract bind her to a life of unfulfilled longing?

I've been married to billionaire CEO Christopher Hayes for two years, and only now does my ex, Benjamin Clarke, decide to propose. The rumble of engines echoes as a fleet of black trucks lines up neatly outside my private estate. The drivers unload box after box of gifts—luxury watches, fine jewelry, couture gowns, and even a grand piano. Standing proudly among the shower of rose petals, he announces, "Sienna, I told you—the only reason I had a child with my sister-in-law was because my older brother died in an accident, and she wanted to keep our family's bloodline alive. "The baby just turned a month old. I've fulfilled my promise to her, and now I've come to marry you!" I lounge in the heated pool, having just finished my postpartum recovery exercises, and I can't even be bothered to look at him. He knits his brows, and his tone turns patronizing. "I know you're upset, but you're the heiress of the Grant family; you have everything you could ever want! Why can't you show a little compassion for a widow who just lost her husband? "I know it was selfish of me to make you wait for two years, but I'm back now! Our wedding will be held in three days. I can tell you still care about me. If not, why would you greet me in such a revealing bikini?" His overconfidence makes me chuckle. "Guards, get him out of here! I'm trying to swim here." What a joke. I've just welcomed the heir of Hayes Group into the world, and Christopher has been insisting that I take our baby home to visit my parents. Yet, somehow, I end up running into this idiot.

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."