Novel & Cerita Who Was Jack Skellington Before He Died

They buried her with lies... They mourned her with guilt... But Alira was never truly gone. When Alira discovers the affair between her sister and her husband,the man she once built her entire world around..confrontation turns to tragedy. Her life is stolen in a single, cruel moment but fate gives her what death denied: a second chance. Reborn in the past, before she ever said yes to his proposal, before she gave him her loyalty, her love... her power, Alira is no longer the devoted wife... She's the architect of vengeance. With every calculated step, she weaves a web of betrayal, seduction, and secrets. This time, she'll wear the dress not of a bride, but of a widow-to-be.

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight ye

When the earthquake struck on what should have been our fourth wedding anniversary, my supposedly devoted and family-oriented husband, Lionel Brooks, abandoned me and our children, who were trapped under the rubble. Despite our children's pleas for help, Lionel left without a second thought, carrying his former flame, Fiona Smith, and her daughter to safety. While Fiona and her daughter escaped with minor injuries, my precious children had their chests pierced by steel beams, leaving this world forever. It was such a twisted fate. What was meant to be a day of celebration turned into an annual day of mourning for my beautiful children. A week later, during my children's funeral, Lionel h

The night before my wedding, my best friend flew back from overseas to attend my bachelor party. We were just having a few drinks when his stomach started acting up, so I quickly reached into his bag for his medication. Instead of pills, I found a naughty remote control. I grinned mischievously and waved a hand toward him. “Didn’t know you were getting this wild overseas, man.” He smiled awkwardly and told me to just hand him the medicine and not to touch anything else. Alas, his reaction made me even more curious. So I purposely pressed on one of the buttons. The next second, my fiancee, who was sitting right next to us, shuddered.

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

Ever since I can remember, I was Nina's blood bank. Nina was like a glass princess. One sneeze and she could break. She needed blood all the time just to stay okay. Mom had her tubes untied just to have me to save Nina. My arms were always full of needle marks. Mom and Dad looked at me like they felt bad. "Chloe, you're a good girl. Nina's sick. She doesn't mean it when she gets mad. Be patient with her." I made myself smile. "I know. You can take more. I'm not scared." They turned away and cried. I thought if I stayed good and didn't complain, they'd love me someday. Then I won first place in a painting contest. Nina ripped the bandage off her hand and started crying. "Why are you

For seven years in a row, the Moon Goddess chose me to serve as the Saintess of the Silver Moon Pack. And every year, my mate-to-be, Alpha Kael Ashborne, handed the title to my adopted sister, Rosalie. "Rosalie is an Omega. She needs the position if she is ever going to earn the pack's respect." "I promise, Elara. Next year, the title will be yours." My mother baked Rosalie a cake to celebrate and dressed her in a one-of-a-kind gown sewn with moonstones. My father watched me as though he expected trouble, then let out a weary sigh. "Elara, could you try being generous for once and stop making a scene?" A bitter smile tugged at my lips. They had no idea why I had fought so hard for the Sainte

The healer told me I had Soul Decay Syndrome. In three days, I'd be dead. The only thing that could save me was water from the Sacred Spring. But my Alpha mate, Vincent, gave it to my adopted sister, Fiona. So, during the final 72 hours of my life, I gave up everything. When I handed Fiona the perfume formulas I'd spent years developing, my parents smiled in satisfaction. When I gave up the couples' vacation package I'd won and let Vincent take Fiona to see the Northern Lights instead, he praised me for finally being mature. When I taught my daughter to call Fiona "Mom", she didn't hesitate. She turned to me without a second thought and called me "Aunt." To my family, all my sacrifice

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé suddenly asked me to give up the ceremony for his first love, Sofia. I turned it down cold in my former life, only to become the Chicago mob’s godmother at a lavish wedding. When Sofia heard the news, she was heartbroken and jumped into the sea to take her own life. Vincent blamed me for Sofia’s death. For the next thirty years, the words he said to me most often were: “Elena, if I had married Sofia that day, she wouldn't have died.” On his deathbed, he told our children: “Don’t bury me with Elena.” The year after he died, I fell gravely ill and passed away. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night before the wedding. Over the phone, Vin

At the Thanksgiving dinner, Raphael's assistant Daphne was sitting in my seat. I frowned at Raphael. “Why is she in the Donna's seat? Doesn’t she know, and don’t you?” Raphael clicked his tongue, impatient. “You're the one who showed up late. People sit where they want. If it bothers you, leave.” I opened my mouth to argue, and his thoughts reached me before I could. [Scarlett, get angry. Fight back.] [Tell me you're my wife, the Donna of the Sterling family, that no one else has the right to sit at my side.] [Prove you love me. It's the only thing that makes me feel safe.] This time, I didn't give his thoughts what they were begging for. I slid the wedding ring off my finger instea