Unattainable

Nissa Sullivan was born mute, yet by chance managed to marry rich, becoming Mrs. Jules, wife of Benjamin Jules. However, she knew full well that Benjamin held no love for her. Naturally, Benjamin got together with his first love, Charlotte Quinn, when she returned to the country. Nissa, knowing full well that it was time she left, chose to hide her pregnancy result and make room for Charlotte.

My boyfriend, Harvey Seinfeld, got diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I was a match, I didn't think twice. Two-thirds of my liver—gone. The pain was brutal. As soon as I came to, I dragged myself to his room. Right before I walked in, I heard him laughing with his friends. "Harvey, you're a genius for coming up with such an epic revenge plan." He snorted. "If I didn't have to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. "It's her fault Vivi bombed her art exam and had to study abroad. Vivi's coming back next month. That's when I'll be done with her for good."

Before the wedding, Alpha Kevin’s first love, Sandra Barlow, was betrothed to none other than David Wright—the most infamous rogue Alpha along the Mississippi River. A wolf so ruthless, even the werewolf Council preferred to pretend he didn’t exist. Alpha Kevin, ever the noble hero, couldn't bear to see his precious white moonlight thrown into the fire pit. So, what did he do? With the werewolf army of the Midnight Ridge Pack, he stormed into the rogue den and snatched her away from Alpha David. That very night, they registered their marriage and held a wedding. And me? Oh, the entire Midnight Ridge Pack was practically at the thought of watching Gamma Diana Gilbert—the strongest female warrior in the pack—get humiliated. After all, my years of loyalty, my unmatched skills, my blood spilled for this pack? Worthless. Why? Because their beloved Alpha had chosen another. I braced myself for the whispers, the pitying glances. But then— The very next day, Alpha David, the same rogue who’d been so cruelly robbed of his mate, climbed onto my villa’s security wall like a damn cat burglar. He perched there, arms crossed, watching me with an infuriatingly lazy smirk. “Wife pays for her husband’s debt,” he drawled, his voice carrying the rough edge of a wolf who lived lawless and free. “Alpha Kevin stole my mate. So I figured—you should compensate me by becoming my rogue Luna.” He grinned, canines flashing. “ That’s fair, isn’t it?” I nodded. “Fair.”

Buxton Corp's CEO got his ex back. The cost? His pregnant wife vanished without a word. Month One: Calvin didn't flinch. Too busy worshiping his so-called true love. Month Two: His buddies placed bets on when Angela would come crawling home. Month Three: Panic hit. He sent scouts everywhere to find me. Nothing. Not a whisper. After that, "Angela Astor" turned into a curse word in Auremburg. But what no one saw? He missed her so bad at night, it nearly broke him.

A stampede happened at my daughter's kindergarten. Timothy Horuson was in a hurry to save his first love's son, and he pulled away someone else's hand. A hand reached out to him, hoping for him to save her. His daughter's hand. And the light in my daughter's eyes faded. The longing for fatherly love she had held on to for so long vanished. I risked my life to save her. She looked at me quietly. "I'll go with you, Mom. We'll leave Dad behind and go somewhere he'll never find us."

I had poured my heart into planning the perfect wedding—for my female client. Then I turned a corner and saw her kissing my boyfriend at the stairwell. He chuckled softly. "No wonder you're my wife. You're stunning." She let out a soft laugh. "Your little secret girlfriend still does not know you're marrying me. She actually wished me happiness—can you believe it? So… when are you planning to tell her?" He tilted her chin and said, "Didn't we agree? Once we're married, we each live our own lives. Teresa is the love of my life. I hope you'll keep your mouth shut." She gave a snort of laughter and yanked playfully on his tie. "Relax, babe. As long as you keep treating me right, I won't stir up trouble." I felt like I had plunged into an ice bath. Face pale, hands trembling, I picked up my phone and texted my mentor: [I'm ready to take the transfer to Luminous City.] The reply came not long after: [Three days from now. We'll go together.]

My husband, Mark Thompson, and I went hiking. After eating some wild berries I picked, he was poisoned and died. When I got home, a woman named Sarah Miller and her son, Tommy Miller, showed up at my door. It turned out Mark had given them our house and car. On top of that, he owed them a huge amount of money. I ended up giving them all the savings I had. To care for my sick mother-in-law, Judith Thompson, I worked three jobs. I was surviving on basic meals like bread and butter. After years of exhausting work, I collapsed in the hospital. Judith told the doctors to stop my treatment. Just as I was about to die, Mark walked into the ward with Sarah and Tommy in his arms. He tossed five dollars at me. “Thanks for taking care of my mom all these years.” That was when I realized Mark had faked his death just to be with Sarah and their love child. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day we went hiking together.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."

On my birthday, Heather Pond’s lover posted a sonogram on his social media account and captioned it, [We’re going to be parents!] I commented, [Congratulations. You can have the baby cot from my place.] The next second, Heather called me to give me a warning. “Brandon Smith is dying. I’ll come back to you once I give birth to his child. Please don’t trigger him any further!” I remained calm and collected when I served her the divorce papers. Then, I packed my bags and went on a vacation in Europe.

While I was five months pregnant, my husband, Randall Harris, accompanied his assistant to the hospital for an IV drip.   He even posted a selfie with her on social media.   I called him, and he lied straight to my face, saying he was stuck in a meeting at the office.   When I confronted him, he fought with me, gave me the cold shoulder, and then went straight back to his assistant for comfort.   “Are you sure you don’t want to notify the baby’s father? The surgeon asked me. “After this surgery, you won’t ever be able to have children again.”  I closed my eyes.  “He’s dead to me.”