Where Is She From

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

My husband, Chandler Rotterdam worked as a researcher developing a new serum. Driven to find a cure for my cancer, he poured himself entirely into the project.  However, on the day of the injection, it wasn’t him who administered the treatment—it was his childhood friend, Pauline Hemsworth.  She had injected an unregulated dose, and I could do nothing but watch as my life slipped away. Even the child growing inside me was not spared.  Meanwhile, Chandler remained by her side.  “If this research succeeds, all the credit goes to you!” Chandler assured Pauline. “She would never blame you if anything happens. She’d be grateful to be the first to receive the drug.”  But the experiment failed. After discovering my death, Chandler lost his mind.

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

"I'm a dominatrix, Harry. I need control! In business, in life, in my home... in sex." She looked at him, who now had his eyes fixed on her. It wasn't that he had become less shy or more comfortable, he simply continued to follow orders, without even understanding why he was doing it. "But the club tired me... the submissive guys at the club tired me." She returned to the sofa, then moved much closer to him, bringing their knees together, and took a firm hold of his chin when, for a second, he dared to look away from her. "So I really wanted to try something new, Harry." Kath took a deep breath and said a few words that would have the power to radically change two stories. "I want YOU to agree to be my new submissive."

"Dad, I think something is wrong.""What do you mean?""I'm smelling four.""Four?""Yes, there are four different scents. I don't know how to explain it but they all have the same earthly scent, but something else to it. What does that mean?""You have four mates.""Four mates? That can't be real, I have never heard of that before." Avery was in a state of panic now, which caused her to involuntarily transform back to her human form.

Today was supposed to be my marking ceremony. Instead, it became my funeral. Eliza had run me down with her car. She dragged my broken body into the storage room. "Stay here. When the ceremony is over, I'll let you out." She wanted to take my place, to be marked by Greyson, as his Luna. Greyson loved me. But his family could never allow their precious Alpha son to marry a lowborn Omega. "Millie," murmured, his voice thick with guilt. "I have to obey my family and give them an heir first -- with Eliza. You know... she's Alpha blood. "Once the pup turns one, I'll marry you." And I marked the days one by one, counting down to our forever. He claimed it was a mere duty, but but their feverish nights suggested she was his preferred addiction. A month later, Eliza was pregnant. Ten months after that, she bore the Alpha's heir. Another twelve agonizing months dragged by, and finally, it was the day he was supposed to claim me. But now, I was lying here on the floor, my body shattered. Greyson's voice cut through the phone, sharp and impatient. "Why aren't you here yet? Haven't you been desperate to marry me?" "I've let the pup's birthday incident slide -- are you still going to sulk about it?" "If you don't show up, I'll mark Eliza instead." I wasn’t coming, Greyson. I couldn’t -- I was already dead. But he believed I was simply having a tantrum.

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

On the day of her wedding, Elena Bianchi was left standing alone in a church. For the nineteenth time, Don Giovanni Rossi failed to appear. His excuse was the same as always—Lina was 'dying' again. This time, the humiliation went further. While Elena waited in her wedding dress, a video call arrived. On the screen, the lace veil her mother had left her—the one promise Elena had sworn to keep—was being torn apart by Lina’s dog as Lina laughed and urged it on. Giovanni followed with a careless apology. He promised to buy her a better one. That veil had been the last thing her mother ever gave her. Elena did not cry. She did not argue. Instead, she made a call no one in the Italian underworld dared to make. Seven years later, the Rossi family had fallen. Their power was gone. Their allies had turned away. And Giovanni—once untouchable—stood among the defeated, waiting to receive the Donna of the most powerful Mafia family. He never expected it to be Elena. Now married to Rafael Bellini, Elena was no longer the woman abandoned at the altar. She was Bellini’s Donna—calm, ruthless, and beyond his reach. The veil that had once been fed to a dog had become a crown. And the man who had destroyed her was now her enemy. In a world ruled by bloodlines, loyalty, and vengeance, Elena proved one unbreakable truth: A woman cast aside by a Mafia king did not disappear—she rose, and she returned as his reckoning.

After waking up from a car accident, I realize that I've lost some of my memories. My wife, Samantha Ross, embraces me immediately and says in a choked-up tone, "The doctor said that you've hurt your manhood in the accident. You… might not be able to perform in the bedroom anymore." My father-in-law, Edmund Ross, sighs heavily as well. He tells me that even if I can't get Samantha pregnant anymore, I will always be the only son-in-law who's married into the Ross family. Everyone compliments me on marrying into a wonderful family. After all, Samantha refuses to abandon me, and Edmund completely understands my situation. But I know for a fact that my kidneys aren't busted at all. Also, I already had a son with Samantha a long time ago. The thing is, where on earth is that child now?