Winning Competition Quotes

For three years, Emerie had been married to Allan, the son of an Alpha. Allan had always believed it was Emerie who drugged him, forcing him into the marriage. Determined to divorce her, he chose to be with her sister Jolene instead. But what he didn’t know was that Emerie was already terminally ill when she left him. When Allan finally uncovered the truth and desperately searched for her—could he still win her back?

Our pup, Kyle Draven, is burning with a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. His small body convulses as he cries out for his father. But my husband, the Alpha, doesn't care. Julian Draven ignores our son's suffering because Kyle's cries might disturb his precious Linda Griffin. "Linda's trying on evening gowns. Stop using Kyle to get my attention. You're pathetic." Linda deliberately monopolizes my husband's time, then shows up with cake for Kyle like she's some saint. When Kyle eats it, he vomits black-purple blood. The cake had Wolfsbane. I confront her, desperate for answers, but Julian responds with a vicious slap and crushes me under his Alpha authority. "Linda wouldn't hurt a fly. How could she poison anyone? You clearly framed her. What kind of mother poisons her own pup?" He shatters my spine and throws both me and our dying pup into the Borderlands. Just as he gives the order to kill us, a roar erupts from deep within the forest—the kind that makes every beast submit. My childhood friend has returned.

After his fated mate died, Alpha Killian Thorne spent ten years resenting me. I was the Omega healer he never chose—bound to him by duty, not love. A substitute. A scar on a bond neither of us asked for. No matter how deeply I healed his wounds, no matter how quietly I stayed by his side, all he ever said was: “If you really want to please me, Clara… then disappear.” But when death came charging, it wasn’t I who fell. He did. Bleeding out in my arms, Killian looked at me one last time and whispered: “If only I’d never met you…” At the funeral, his mother wept. “He should’ve been with Selena. I never should’ve let him mate with you.” His father’s glare cut through me. “Killian saved you three times. Why wasn’t it you in that grave?” Everyone regretted that he had bonded with me. Even I did, too. I was cast out of the pack with nothing— No title. No Luna severance. No den to call my own. And then… perhaps the Moon Goddess took pity on me. She gave me one final chance to rewrite fate. This time, I won’t beg for his love. This time, I won’t tether him to pain. This time, I’ll sever the bond before it begins. I could already hear the gears of fate turning, and this time, I would move first.

Everyone said my good looks were what saved me from my family's downfall. It was how I managed to become a Donna. I was the only one who knew why he had to compromise to marry me. Xavier Whitmore, the tall and handsome Don, was unable to have physical relationships with a woman. When I shyly took off the gown on our wedding night, he sat in his chair and lit a cigarette before remarking in an icy voice, "I'm allergic to women. That said, you have my word that you will be the only woman in my life." He kept his promise. Though he never so much as touched me in the five years of our marriage, he provided me with a life of luxury and wealth. Although it was merely a title, being his only woman brought me happiness. Everything changed on the day my men and I were ambushed by a rival mafia family. We barely made it out alive. When I returned home, I found him locked in a tight embrace with his widowed sister-in-law, Alice Ortega. "Alice, I won't let you remarry. If you do, I'll make sure that man dies a thousand deaths." I scoffed. It wasn't so much that he couldn't handle being physical with a woman. It was simply that he could not be physical with anyone but her. In that case, she could have the pleasure of being the Donna.

Five years into marriage, Silvia Serra becomes both Dante Valenti's most lethal weapon and his most invisible presence. She shields him from bullets. She crosses a freezing river for him. Her scars accumulate, and his response is an assumption that it is how things are meant to be. In time, Dante grows repulsed by the violence clinging to her. He derides her lack of charm and gives his warmth to another woman instead. He allows others to grind down her dignity, and with a new lover in his arms, he openly stains her name. Silvia tolerates it so she can continue guarding him. Everyone mocks her as if she's numb to it all, driven away again and again, but never truly gone. Then comes the night of pounding rain. Cast aside without ceremony, Silvia erases every sign she was ever there and leaves with finality. Dante treats it as nothing more than sulking, convinced she will return within three days. Later, the once-untouchable Don was seen on his knees at Silvia's feet, stripped of all pride, begging her to turn back and look at him just once.

Leah, Logan’s adopted sister, threw a tantrum at our first engagement party, an episode of her pup dependency anxiety. But after that night, I gave him an ultimatum: if he couldn’t bond me before I turned thirty, he’d have to choose—me or Leah. Logan believed I’d never walk away. After all, I was bonded by my dying mother’s last wish: to be bonded with the werewolf warrior who’d loved me for ten years. Ten years together. Twelve promises that he’d keep Leah in line. And then came my twenty-ninth birthday—our thirteenth engagement party. Leah locked me in a restroom, stole my gown, and stood beside Logan in my place. She was smiling, glowing, claiming everything that was mine. When I finally stepped out, my gown was tattered. I confronted Logan, but he only said, “Alison, forgive her. I promise, this is the last time.” I looked at the torn gown my mother had sewn through sickness and pain… and I laughed. Logan sighed in relief, thinking I’d let it slide again. But I didn’t. I turned and walked away without a word. After a decade together, he thought I belonged to him. Well, he was wrong. He didn’t know that there was someone else who could give me happiness and fulfill my mother’s wish.

Every Christmas Eve, the heir of the Marco mafia family—Adrian Marco, must follow the family tradition: Draw a name to decide whether he’s allowed to marry me. Because I, Irene Cast, am not mafia-born. Unless he draws the slip with my name on it, he can’t take me as his wife. For four years, Adrian has drawn four times. And not once did he draw my name. I always thought he fought with his family because of me— that he was willing to risk losing his position as the Don, just to choose me. Every time he failed, he held me so tightly and whispered, “It’s okay. There’s always next year.” And I loved him so much it hurt. Hurt enough that I was willing to wait, year after year. This year, I told myself: If he still doesn’t draw my name… I’ll secretly switch the result. I sneaked to the door of Adrian’s study, and heard his younger brother ask: “Don… every year you do draw Irene's name. Why do you pretend you didn’t? Is it because you still can’t let Sera go?” But he simply said, in a flat voice, “Sera needs me for something urgent. Do what you always do: swap Irene’s name for a blank one.” He walked out without looking back. Instead of swapping, he tossed the blank slip into the trash, left the one with my name on the table, and hurried after Adrian. I went inside, picked up the blank slip from the trash, and replaced the one with my name. Watching my own name fall into the garbage. Adrian…I don’t want to wait and marry you anymore. I’ll grant you your choice.

My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants. Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax. My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture. Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead." What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

I was the person Henry Johnson, the head of the San Nello mafia, loved more than anyone else. He loved me with absolute devotion. During our three years of marriage, he spoiled me endlessly and treated me like a princess. Yet this same man, who claimed to love me so deeply, divorced me three times, each time for the sake of his childhood sweetheart. The first time, intimate photos of them at the airport went viral. That very night, he placed the divorce papers in front of me. "Selena," he said, "Melanie's father once saved my life. I can't allow her to be condemned as a homewrecker. Let's divorce for now. Once this storm passes, we'll remarry." With my heart in pieces, I signed the papers and prepared to leave. However, at the airport, Henry stopped me. He broke down in front of me and begged, "I've already taken care of the media. Melanie has gone abroad again. I've repaid everything I owed her family. Please don't leave. Let's get married again." His tearful pleas softened my resolve. That was the first time I forgave him. The second time, he came to me looking utterly worn out. "Melanie was implicated by her boyfriend and ended up in prison," he said. "I need to bail her out as her spouse. Once she's free, we'll remarry right away." I believed him. That time, he kept his promise. He returned and remarried me. The third time, he lowered his head and hesitated, unable to look me in the eye. "Melanie is about to give birth," he said. "An unwed pregnancy would destroy her modeling career. I have to help her. This will be the last time. Once the child is settled, we'll remarry. I promise this will never happen again." I looked at him for a long time. In the end, I answered softly, "Okay." However, on the day we were meant to register our marriage again, I never appeared. Any love I still had was worn away bit by bit. In the end, I left for good, taking with me not only a broken heart, but also the unborn heir he would never know.

As the princess of the merfolk, I can't go ashore by nature. Yet, I've fallen in love with the werewolf Alpha, Silas Walker, who lives on land. In order to be with Silas, I've struck a bargain with the witch of the deep seas. I've traded in my voice for a pair of legs. For the next century or so, Silas and I remain together as an affectionate couple. On my birthday, I find out that he's actually cheating on me with another Omega named Helena Payne. As he holds Helena in his arms, he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. "Haven't I just satisfied you last night? Oh, you little minx…" Meanwhile, Helena clutches the moonstone that's supposed to be mine. She nestles into Silas' arms as she says, "Will the Luna be angry at me when she finds out that you've given her moonstone to me? "I didn't mean to steal from her, to begin with. It's just that I've been feeling uneasy lately, and I need the moonstone to help calm my nerves…" Silas tightens his grip on her hips. "Hmph! I'm only lending the moonstone to you for a few days! You know how important Annelise is to me! If you dare tell her anything about us, I'll definitely screw you over!" This scene completely breaks my heart. After that, I text my mom right away. "Mom, I want to go home now."