Watame Face

Derek, my mate, and I were patrolling the borders of our territory when we triggered a deadly wolfsbane trap. When I opened my eyes again, we were sent back three years earlier, before the marking ceremony had ever taken place. In my previous life, we had lived in the same den for seven years. Yet the entire time, we were like two strangers forced to share the same space. He never marked me, not once, and he certainly never allowed me to breed his pups. Only later did I learn that, from the very beginning, the wolf spirit inside him had recognized only one mate—his delicate, fated partner, Aria. So this time, after being reborn, I decided to give him what he wanted. I severed our mind link on my own and then left his territory without looking back. From that moment on, we went our separate ways. Seven years later, Derek had become the most talked-about Gamma Commander in the Werewolf Alliance. That night, at the pack’s Full Moon banquet, he wrapped an arm around Aria and proudly announced their upcoming mating bond in front of everyone. Seeing me standing alone in a quiet corner, Derek let out a mocking laugh. “Selena, I know that in both lifetimes, you’ve only ever loved me. But you don’t have to keep waiting around for me like some stray dog. Aria and I are destined for each other.” I didn’t even bother looking up. Instead, I casually reached out and took the hand of the blond, blue-eyed pureblood pup standing beside me. The color drained from Derek’s face instantly. He glared at me and questioned, “You swore to the Moon Goddess! You said in this life you’d only ever be my she-wolf and only ever breed my pups!”

At the pack's anniversary dinner party, the Alpha, Matt White, told us to write down the gifts we wanted. He would make sure every request was fulfilled. When it was my turn, the newly arrived intern suddenly snatched the paper and pen out of my hands. "Mr. White works so hard managing the pack. We can't let him spend money on us! You shouldn't write down your dream gift," she said. I ignored her, grabbed the list back, and calmly wrote down one item: a washing machine. Peyton immediately flew into a rage and splashed the champagne on the table straight onto me. "I told you not to write anything down! As a Beta, how can you be so inconsiderate of Mr. White?" My coat was completely soaked, and I looked utterly disheveled. I couldn't hold back my anger anymore. I flung the list straight at her face without mercy. She instantly covered her face and screamed, "How dare you hit me! Do you know who my father is? He's the Alpha King! Even Mr. White has to be polite to him. I'll have you kicked out of the pack for laying a hand on me!" I froze. I was the Alpha King's biological niece. My uncle didn't even have a partner, so how would he have a grown daughter?

On the day my boyfriend and I moved into our new home, his ex-girlfriend gave us a mysterious gift. The moment I opened the front door, a swarm of hornets came flying out. I screamed in fright as I felt seven or eight stings from them. His ex, Erica Loft, jumped out from behind the door with a giggle. She shouted, "Surprise! "I went up the mountains to visit a master craftsman. I wanted to get you this specially brewed hornet wine, and I even brought back a hornet's nest for you to decorate your new house with! "Isn't this a great gift?" Erica made a face at us. She was gleeful at the messy predicament I was in. My boyfriend, Joe Fulham, clenched his teeth. He rushed forward to grab Erica by the wrist as he shouted angrily at her. "Are you crazy? Don't you know that hornets are venomous?! Is this really a surprise, or are you trying to hurt us?" I listened to another one of their huge arguments from behind the door, feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. As I felt the stinging pain in my arm, I knew this wedding was about to fall through.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.

My mom died giving birth to me. They couldn't save her. My dad? He dumped me outside a prison and ran. Didn't even look back. It was five degrees. I was basically frozen. Barely breathing. Later, a guard said the whole max block lost it that night. One hundred eight inmates—death row, life sentences—went crazy. Slamming doors. Smashing windows. Yelling they wanted to keep me. In the end, they filed a letter. Not a breakout plan. A custody request. Somehow... it got approved. From that day on, I had 108 dads. But growing up, I found out the truth. They weren't criminals. On paper, they were dead—killed in the line of duty. In reality, they were still out there, serving. Eighteen years later, I got into one of the top high schools—with the highest score in the State of Ashford. On the fifth day, I beat the rich girl, Vivian Cobbley, by one point on a mock exam. Next thing I knew, my name was all over the bulletin board: [Riley Ray, daughter of murderers!] Vivian cornered me in the bathroom and shoved my head into a toilet. "Your dads are killers. That filth's in you too." She beat me so hard I dragged her down when we went over the second-floor railing. When I woke up, the Dean of Students was right in my face, finger in my face. "No surprise you're violent. It's in your blood. Call your criminal dads. Now." I shook. "Mr. Todd... you sure you want me to call them?"

Miranda Luis, a 22 year old woman hadn't expected that she would fall in love with her arrogant boss, Derrick Luis. After a one night stand between them, Derrick threw a check note of five million dollars at Miranda's face, and ordered her to leave his house. With a broken heart, Miranda left and Derrick discovered hidden secrets about her. What happened when Derrick later discovered a boy that resembles him? Do you think Miranda will give Derrick a second chance after 6 years apart? Find out.

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."

In the third year of her marriage to Anthony Lancaster, Simone Nolan is still the envy of every woman in Avenport. "Mr. Lancaster treats Mrs. Lancaster so well! Last time, she just coughed once, and he immediately gave her a full physical." "She married the nation's most authoritative doctor, after all. May I be this blissful in my next life!" Simone smiles, long used to the nurses' chatter. She's about to push the door open when she hears an argument inside. She falters. "Mr. Lancaster, are we still going to terminate Mrs. Lancaster's pregnancy later? This is already the third time!" "I've already told you that whenever Simone gets pregnant, an abortion has to be performed, no matter how many times." Anthony's cool voice pierces Simone's ears. Her face instantly becomes ashen. "But why? She has always wanted to have your children." Anthony's tone is icily sharp. "It's because of that surgery three years ago. I removed one of Simone's kidneys and gave it to Winona."