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Everything is ready on the day of my wedding. But the bride, Adella Marlowe, is nowhere to be seen. That's when she texts me on my phone. Apparently, as a national shooting champion, there's a last-minute competition that she has to attend right away, all consequences be damned. But the next day, I see a social media post uploaded by Raiden Chase, the newest recruit in Adella's team. In the photo, I see Adella with one foot on a dead wild boar while propping her gun with a proud smile on her face. The caption goes, "I'm so glad to have a wife who's also a national shooting champion! Now, Grandma won't have to worry about her corn fields getting attacked by wildlife!" As I stare at the post, I just smile and leave a comment. "As expected of the champion whose heart goes out to the normal folk!" Adella quickly calls me the next moment. "Delete your comment right now! Also, stop being all passive-aggressive around me! It's just a missed wedding; must you be so snide about it?" This isn't Adella's first time leaving me at the altar. It's been two years, and every time she ditches me at the altar, she always has an excuse to do so. I just hang up on Adella without saying a word. She's right, though. This is just a wedding, isn't it? I might as well call it off once and for all.

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

The books say that besides empaths, mages are the most sensitive when it comes to emotions. They also say that mages are the most dangerous supernatural s pecies to walk the earth. There's a reason for that, the elders say that mages who are underaged are a ticking time bomb because if a mage who is not of age constantly experiences negative emotions before their Coming of Age ceremony, their magic becomes twisted, their heart becomes cold and their eyes change to reflect that evil magic coursing through them. No one ever believed the books, thinking of them as fairy tales. At least they didn't until Olive Lane walked into school her magic dark and corrupted enough to give her a shadow familiar. Her hair no longer an almost white blond but a haunting purple. Gone were her kind and emotion-filled green eyes and in their place were amethyst eyes filled with nothing but hatred and amusement. Everyone watched her snap the neck of a classmate with the tilt of her head and it was in that moment they realized that the books and the elders were right. And for the first time in their peace-filled lives, the residents of Ravenswood felt true horror because when she looked at them, they knew that in front of them was the monster spoken of in fear and terrified reverence. Olive Lane,the sweetest and kindest person to ever walk the earth was now a Dark Mage. Will her soul be forever lost in the darkness or is there a hope for redemption? Will she defeat her demons or will they overtake her and ruin that which she loves...

I have a rule that I stick to at all times. Every year, I will only host three livestreams. I accept and welcome everyone who joins my livestream. I don't care about the variety of requests made. On top of that, I don't charge anyone anything. As long as I agree to one's request, I'll definitely fulfill it no matter what they want. For the past three years, I've stuck to this rule, and I've never broken it. Because of that, every time my livestream starts, hundreds of thousands of viewers will instantly join my livestream. It's the third livestream this time, marking it the final livestream of the year. As soon as I begin the livestream, numerous comments begin filling up the comment section. The user who's lucky enough to score a chance to communicate with me on my livestream is a woman in her 40s. Her sideburns have already gone gray, and her eyes are sunken. She can be seen holding up a child's photo. "Connor, my son has gone missing for 20 years. Please help me find him. I'll sell my house. Heck, I'll do anything you say!" The comment section instantly goes wild. "Oh my god! What a pitiful mother!" "She's willing to sell everything she has just to find her child! Connor, you must help her!" "If you refuse to help this woman, who else are you going to help then, Connor?" I stare at the woman's face for three long seconds. That's when I feel an inexplicable chill running down my spine. Without hesitation, I close off the communication portal from the woman. "I refuse."

After four years of marriage, James Lawson, who had never posted anything on social media, unexpectedly updated his status: "What an adorable little foodie!" The attached photo showed a young woman wearing pink cat ears, eating at a Korean BBQ restaurant. Her cheeks were flushed red from the spicy food as she stuck out her tongue. It was Sophie Jones, a new content creator at his company. Within a minute, our mutual friend commented: "Dude, you forgot to switch accounts!" Just like that, James's new post disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, only to show up moments later on Sophie's feed. Then James's name lit up my phone screen. In the past, I would have already taken screenshots and called him first to confront him. It would have inevitably ended in a heated argument. But this time, I calmly watched his call go to voicemail without answering.

My ex-wife, Erica Scarver, who's the head nurse of the hospital, devotes her efforts into saving an ICU patient. Meanwhile, I, the hospital dean, just start a livestream calmly. A few minutes later, the patient is out of the critical state. But Erica collapses instantly because she contracts the virus instead. "Hurry up and save your ex-wife! She's now infected because there's a hole in her protective suit! She's in a critical condition right now!" The medical staff looks at me worriedly. After all, I'm the most renowned medical expert in the entire hospital. But I remain unmoved. "Why should I save her? Don't you know that I've just wrapped up a surgery, so I can't enter the quarantine zone at all?"

It all began with a single post about canceling a food delivery order. Overnight, I became the internet's punching bag. Thousands of vicious messages flooded my inbox, filled with photoshopped memorials urging me to die. They doxxed my family, plastered my personal details across shady websites, and used AI to create obscene images of me, spreading them in vile chat groups. They spread lies about my income, claiming it came from illicit sources, and accused me of carrying diseases. I didn't call the police or block the messages. Instead, I read every hateful word before singling out the 100 worst offenders. Every day, I sent each one a luxurious meal: Boston lobster, Australian wagyu, the works. Each delivery came with a simple note: [Thank you for your hard work.]

Olivia Penn was the only daughter of the Penn family. She was born into privilege and status. People often called her the holy maiden of high society. She was untouchable and devout. The system gave me a mission to win her heart, but I ended up losing mine to her. After we got married, the mission was successfully completed. I should have left this world immediately, but I chose to stay for her. The cost was constant, bone-deep pain every single day. One day, I saw her being intimate with my younger brother in a church. The rosary she never took off was teasingly caught between his lips, then removed and tossed aside. Even our son wanted my brother to be his father. So, I gave them what they wanted. However, if this was what they wanted, why did they regret it after I died?

Just days after being discharged from the hospital, my husband’s adopted sister, Wendy Crowley, went live. Crying on a rooftop, she accused me of causing her miscarriage. "The ultrasound already showed it was a boy… and that woman took his life! "She can’t have children herself, so she couldn’t stand that I could. I want her to pay for my child’s death!" My husband, Tristan Crowley, believed every word. "Wendy, I failed to protect you. If I’d known she hated you this much, I would’ve locked her away long ago." The livestream sparked outrage. Everyone demanded justice. "This is murder. She’s rotten to the core!" "Where’s the law? Lock her up immediately!" However, when Tristan and Wendy tracked me down–still streaming live–everyone watching… broke down in tears.

I was his mate. He rejected me. Then he buried me alive. Christina Black was nothing a wolfless omega no one protected. Until the day she discovered she was fated to Alpha Kael Moore. But instead of claiming her, he chose power. Framed for treason, rejected before the entire pack, and sentenced to death, Christina should have died that night. She didn’t. She came back. Stronger. Colder. Untouchable. Now a powerful Beta with something ancient and dangerous inside her, Christina returns to the very pack that destroyed her only to find Kael on his knees, his pack dying, and the only cure… is her. He once buried her. Now he has to beg her. But revenge isn’t simple when the bond between them refuses to break and this time, she’s the one holding the power.