Voice Crack

I had cancer. And Carl—my boyfriend of seven years—ditched me at the hospital to play fake boyfriend for his so-called best friend, just so she could dodge her parents' marriage pressure. When the results came in, I broke down. Clutching the report, I sobbed as I called him. "Carl, I... I..." My voice cracked. I didn't even know how to say it. I thought he'd comfort me. Instead, his voice came sharp through the phone. "Can you not? Mia's just a friend. What's so wrong about me helping her?—do you have to be so dramatic? I already promised to marry you this month. What more do you want?"

As I took my newborn daughter from the nurse, I heard the voice of the baby in the next bed echoing in my head. “Don’t take her, Mommy. I’m your real baby!” The doctor and nurses did not seem to hear a thing. I thought I was hallucinating due to my fatigue, so I continued nursing my baby girl. “How dare you cry, you burdensome wretch? I’ll pinch you if you keep crying!” The baby’s grandmother picked him up and walked outside, but the voice came again, crying, “The mean old lady is taking me away. Mommy, look over here quickly! Look at the birthmark on my left ear!” I froze. My first child, who had died in an accident, had a birthmark on his left ear.

I never imagined selling myself to a stranger, but desperation changes everything. “My offer is simple,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair, his voice colder than the iced whiskey in his glass. “Help us track down those people you overheard last night and act as bait for a few months” His eyes were steel—sharp, unreadable. I swallowed hard. I was a waitress. He was a billionaire. We lived in different worlds. But my mother was dying, and I needed money fast. “And in return?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “You get two million dollars as well as protection from the criminal organization looking for you,” he said flatly. My hands trembled in my lap. This wasn’t a proposal. It was a transaction. And I was the product. But I nodded anyway. “Deal.”

On my way to a meeting at work, I call my daughter, who is at home. Instead, I hear a voice identical to mine over the phone. She claims that she is me three years in the future. "Dezarae, go home to Liv right now. Your daughter is in danger." I am stunned. I argue in disbelief and question who is behind this prank. When I step on the accelerator, she stops me sternly. "Do not drive ahead any further. There will be a traffic accident at the intersection where Peace Street is." In the next second, at the intersection that is less than 30 feet away from me, two cars collide. Cold sweat starts to trickle down my back when the woman with a voice identical to mine says, "Liv will fall off a building and die in three hours. This is your only chance to save her."

She was a powerhouse—brilliant, driven, and unstoppable—until the day her world shattered in the delivery room. Told her baby had died at birth, she buried her grief beneath ambition and success, building an empire while silently mourning the child she never got to hold. What she never knew was the truth: her husband had betrayed her in the cruelest way imaginable, fleeing with his mistress and the newborn daughter he claimed was lost. Years later, a business expansion leads her to a quiet, close-knit town far from her high-rise life. There, among tree-lined streets and familiar faces, she meets a commanding, magnetic man whose strength matches her own—but whose integrity and warmth begin to crack the walls around her heart. As their connection deepens, unsettling coincidences surface, pulling her toward a past she was never meant to uncover. The revelation is devastating and undeniable: her daughter is alive, growing up in this very town, raised by the husband who abandoned her and the woman who stole her life. Forced to confront betrayal, buried grief, and a motherhood stolen from her, she must decide how far she’s willing to go for the truth—and for her child. In a town where secrets never stay hidden, she faces a choice between vengeance and forgiveness, between the life she built and the love she never knew she could still claim. This is a story of resilience, second chances, and discovering that sometimes, what was lost can still be found.

When Seth Gibson told me his legs were crippled and that only snowmelt from a mountain's peak could cure him, I did not hesitate. I scaled the mountainside, climbing over 15,000 feet just to get some snow for him. When I staggered back, bruised and scratched, cradling the snow outside the hospital room, I overheard cruel voices down the corridor. "Seth, today's the deadline. Nevaeh still isn't back. Could she have died up there?" "I heard that the mountain's pretty high. She might have gotten altitude sickness. What a shame! She's already risked herself for Seth ninety-nine times. This was supposed to be the last time before the game ended." "Serves her right! She used to bully Janice, Seth's childhood friend, didn't she?" I saw Seth through the crack in the door. He was standing at the window, his legs perfectly intact, and his expression ice-cold. "Enough," he said flatly. "If she dies, the game ends." I froze in disbelief until it finally sank in. Seth had been pretending all along. A laugh nearly escaped me. What a relief! I could finally get rid of this weight on my shoulders. I pulled out my phone and called his uncle. "I'll marry you," I said.

Angela Hunter. She died once—betrayed by the two people she trust and loved most. But the moon goddess gave her a second chance. A second life. This time, she wouldn’t fall for a pretty face or promises wrapped in lies. This time, she’d find a mate before fate dragged her back into hell. So she picked the darkest, most dangerous wolf she could find. He doesn’t smile. He barely speaks. He smells like secrets and death. But when he looks at her, it’s like he sees every crack in her soul—and wants to hold the pieces. She asked him to pretend. She didn’t mean to fall. Aaron Shepard. He was never meant to fall in love. With vengeance burning through his veins, he walked the world like a shadow—cold, silent, and deadly. But then she came along—reckless, stubborn, and wild-eyed—and flipped his world off its axis. Now, she thinks he’s just a rogue. A stranger willing to pose as her mate to prevent her from getting chosen. But every time she smiles at another man, he feels something unholy crawl under his skin. She doesn’t know he’s the Alpha king. She doesn’t know he would tear down packs to keep her safe. And she definitely doesn’t know…She’s already his.

"Please tell them it's a lie," I whispered in my quivering voice and looked up into his eyes. They were cold. Emotionless. "This marriage isn't one from my end." He crashed his lips into mine taking them for a dominant, rough kiss. My eyes teared up as the scenes of my tortured future flashed in my mind. "Welcome to hell Rachel. I warned you not to play with me." His bone-chilling voice rang in my ears. What will happen when Vincenzo forces himself into Rachel's life? Where will this forced marriage lead them to? Vincenzo is ruthless and cold. Doesn't care about consequences and certainly doesn't accept denials. Rachel is innocent but not submissive. Her confident attitude makes her appealing to the mafia king who wants to tame her.

When Isla’s family is wiped out overnight, she runs to the first person she thinks of; Lorenzo Russo. He takes her in with promises to keep her safe, but when she overhears him admitting to killing her family, her world is shattered a second time. Will she run from him or stay to take her much needed revenge? Or is her version of the truth flawed? ~•~ “Did you…” I met his gaze. “Did you kill… my family?” “Yes,” his voice echoed in the quiet space. “It was necessary.” His voice was cold, his eyes still locked on mine. He didn’t care that I found out. He didn’t see me as a threat. I reeled back in shock, not expecting him to answer me so honestly. Then I exploded.

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.