Unattainable

Ten years ago, Elena, my best friend and my foster brother Alexander's fiancée, was tortured to death, every bone in her body crushed. I was the only witness, yet I chose to cover for the sadistic murderer. From that day on, I became the Family's greatest traitor. I accepted a ten-year prison sentence and bit off half my tongue just to keep that secret buried. Now, Alexander has returned as the most ruthless Don in Sicily. He dragged me out of my cell and strapped me into the memory extraction chair—a machine known to turn traitors into vegetables. As high-voltage currents tore through my brain, Alexander stared at me with eyes full of hatred and roared, "I will cut open your brain to find the bastard you’re protecting, and then I’ll send you both to hell!" But when the true killer's face finally appeared on the big screen, Alexander went mad.

After my sister died, my parents forced me into a ten-year contract with my Alpha brother-in-law, Ethan Brooks. I became Luna in name only—and stepmother to his ten-year-old son, Daniel. At the Full Moon Festival, they placed on me my dead sister’s crown—her favorite. And in front of the entire pack, Daniel splashed holy water across my face, that cold smirk a mirror of his father’s. "Don’t think becoming Luna means you can replace my mother! You’re just a thief! What gives you the right to host our festival? You should strip naked and get out of me and Dad’s pack!" The holy water was ice-cold. And staring at the child I’d raised for ten years, all I felt was… relief. Fine. The agreement’s over—I’m leaving. But then why, after I walked away, are both Ethan and Daniel suddenly begging me to return?

At a classmate’s wedding, everyone joked with me, "So when are you getting married?" I said, "Soon." My girlfriend, Fiona Hartley, said she hadn’t thought about it yet. After we spoke at the same time, she looked at me with undisguised disgust. "When did I ever agree to marry you?" That night, claiming it was out of spite, she went out with friends to a get-together centered around her long-cherished first love. I knew then that she had never intended to marry me. So I didn’t try to stop her. I let the wedding plans continue as scheduled. After all, she was never the woman I wanted to marry in the first place.

After Charlene Downing's family goes into bankruptcy, I move into a basement with her. I have to work three jobs per day in order to help her rebuild her career. When Charlene finally succeeds in her career, she vows to give me a real home. On our third year of marriage, I accidentally notice the property deed of our marital home. The owner of this deed appears to be Charlene's first love, Travis Roach. With red-rimmed eyes, Charlene explains to me, "I owe him this much." I nod in return before pushing a pile of photos in her direction. These are photos of the I.O.U notes from back when we stayed in the basement. "You've already used our home to pay Travis back for what you owe him. Then what about the sum you owe me?"

On our third anniversary, the restaurant my wife, Selena Sander, and I frequent is reserved by her twisted first love, Shane Johnson. He tramples over the rose petals that are scattered all over the floor while making his way toward our table. Then, he slaps a pregnancy report onto the table. "Three years ago, I personally tattooed a rose on Selena's abdomen. I even made a vow with her, saying that she cannot give birth to your child until I find someone I love more than her." As Shane points at the name shown on the pregnancy report, he flashes me a cruel smile. "Now, I've found my true love. That's why I came to inform Selena that our vow can now be broken." The bitterness that I tasted from the countless contraceptives that I've taken over the past three years suddenly floods my mouth. I then turn to look at Selena. There's no trace of guilt shown on her expression despite having gotten exposed by Shane. Instead, she just looks at me coldly. "You heard him, right?" she utters. "We can have a child together now." At that moment, I feel like strangling her more than anything else in the world.

In the first two books, within a world where discovering a destined partner is nearly unattainable and rejecting them proves to be difficult, Olivia faces a dilemma when her husband abruptly encounters his fated match. Changing from a beloved and desired wife, she gradually fades into the darkness of his heart. The heartbreak is deep, yet she didn't let go due to the unbreakable ties that bind them. However, she realizes that genuine freedom alone can grant her peace. Thereafter, when an opportunity to escape her husband's pack arises through a selfless sacrifice, she grabbed it without hesitation. Olivia chooses not to look back, as fate may have stripped her of joy, home, and a happy ever after. Instead, she seizes control of her destiny and embarks on crafting her own fate alongside the Stormclaw Alpha.

"Dad, Mom, I've decided—I'll go through with the marriage arrangement with the Kingston family. I'll be back by the end of the month." Daphne Wharton made the decision in the middle of a camping trip with Luke Hardy. She curled into herself, pulling her scarf higher against the chill. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother's voice came through, thick with tears. "Daphne, we know this isn't fair to you. Our company is struggling, and the Kingston family is willing to help—but only if you marry their son. We've failed you as parents…" Her father let out a heavy sigh beside her mother. Daphne listened, her gaze unfocused. A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "It's okay, Mom, Dad. This is what I should do. I'll be back in fifteen days—when their son returns to the country."

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

After six years by Archie Valez’s side, everything changed when his uncle died—and Archie took over the family legacy… and with it, the responsibility of caring for his “young” aunt, Betty Cruz, whose age was practically the same as Archie’s. Still, whatever Betty wanted, Archie delivered. I just never thought it would include a baby. Betty said she wanted a baby with the Valez bloodline. And with the uncle gone, Archie was the only one left to do the job. So he gave her that, too. “Just wait a little longer,” he would say to me, “Sabrina. As soon as she’s pregnant.” What started as once a month turned into once a week… Then it became a nightly routine. Of almost eight months that we lived in New York, Archie went to Betty over a hundred times. And she finally got pregnant. Shortly after, the Valez family announced that Archie would be marrying Betty. “Mommy,” my daughter asked softly, climbing onto the couch beside me. Elly—our Elly. My Elly. The daughter Archie never had time for. “Is someone getting married?” I held her close and kissed her hair. “Yes, sweetheart. Daddy’s finally marrying the love of his life.” Elly blinked at the screen. “But what about us?” I smiled. “We’re going home, baby,” I whispered in her ear. Archie forgot that I was Sabrina Marcellus. And the Marcellus women didn’t beg for rings. And certainly not love after betrayal.

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.