Winning The Week

Five years ago, Suri ruptured her uterus pushing Bruce out of the path of a car. The injury left her unable to have kids. But Bruce didn't care—he still pushed for the wedding. After they got married, he poured nearly everything into her. Or so she thought. Then came the scandal. One of his business rivals leaked it, and just like that, the truth exploded online—Bruce had another woman. She was already over three months pregnant. That night, he dropped to his knees. "Suri, please. I'll fix it. I won't let her keep the baby..." And Suri? She forgave him. But on their fifth anniversary, she rushed to the hotel Bruce had reserved—only to find something else entirely. In the next room, Bruce sat beaming, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating that mistress's birthday. The smile on his face—pure joy. A smile she'd never once seen from him. That was the moment she knew. It was over. Time to go.

I was once the shadow at Nathan’s side, summoned at his will. Pregnant with his child, only to be fed contraception pills by him. On the day of my miscarriage, he was celebrating Liora’s birthday. She took away my parents' love, stole my identity, and destroyed my token, while he stood by and criticized me for being dramatic. They teamed up to lock me in cold storage, tricked me with an AI-generated apology, and even accused me of faking illness when I bled heavily. The day they tossed me out like garbage, I saw the true face of this deceitful pair—the man who abandoned me for vanity, and the woman who exploited a fake pregnancy and staged car accidents to drain him of his last worth. But I didn’t die. Danny found me, half alive, and showed me what it feels like to be cherished. Now, standing on their ruins, those who hurt me have become the badges of my rebirth.

My health was not good, but I had always wanted a child. My husband, citing concern for my health, avoided intimacy with me for a year. Then I stumbled across his private messages with another woman. [You'll spend Valentine's Day with me, right? You're not going to touch her tonight, are you?] [You know I don't like doing it just to make babies. Got you some lingerie. Wear it for me tomorrow.] That ill-fitting lace lingerie he was talking about was on my body. I'd slipped it on while he was in the shower, thinking it was a Valentine's Day surprise from him. Turned out, he hadn't bought the wrong size. He had just sent it to the wrong address. I clicked on the woman's profile. Her latest video showed her at the beach, hand in hand with the person filming. I recognized her hand instantly. It belonged to my best friend.

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

The year my boyfriend lost his sight in a car accident, I silently disappeared. Later, when he regained his sight, he used every means to find me and forced me to stay by his side. Everyone said I was his true love, unwilling to let go even though I abandoned him. Until one day, he appeared in front of me with his fiancée, and he asked, "Mia Frank, does the taste of betrayal feel good?" I shook my head with a faint smile, it didn't matter, even if it hurt, it wouldn't hurt for long, because I was about to forget him.

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.

Three years ago, my fiancé's childhood friends murdered and framed me. They ground my leg bones and turned them into beads to make a bracelet. Then, they gave it to my fiancé after he woke up from an accident. He hated me to the core and wore the bracelet symbolizing his rebirth as he utilized all his resources to find me. He even placed my weak and crazed mother under house arrest to force me to appear. Three years later, during his and his childhood sweetheart's engagement party, a renowned jewel appraiser points out that the bracelet he's had this whole time isn't made of regular bone—it's made of human bone.

On the night of our wedding, my wife, Carol Lockhart, leaves me and goes to stay at a hotel instead. It's because she's an aloof, arrogant young woman who has always been in love with my younger brother, Thomas Shaffer. Over the next ten years of our marriage, I treat her as sincerely as possible and give her my entire heart, but the only response I get in return is her mockery. "Marcus Shaffer, I would rather be a nun for the rest of my life than fall in love with you!" However, when a heavy truck comes skidding toward me, the woman who has hated me all her life suddenly throws herself at me and shoves me away, saving my life. Before passing out, I see her grabbing the doctor's hand, while blood flows from her mouth, begging, "Don't tell that idiot that I was the one who saved him… "And don't let my parents blame him for my death…" My eyes fill with tears. I finally understand now that she wasn't the only one who made the wrong decision during our wedding. After I'm reborn and given a second chance at life, I decide to join the International Peacekeeping Forces and head out into the war as a frontliner. Since I can no longer live out the rest of my life with her, I wish her a lifetime of happiness, and I hope that we will never meet again.

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.

The first time my childhood friend Nathan Sinclair awakened as a werewolf, our friends called me over to help him through his heat. But Nathan shook his head. "I really don't want her to get this so easily. Werewolf love is loyal above all, and the first person I mark becomes my only mate for life. When Bella shows up, I won't give in even if she begs to help me." He waited and waited, but I never came. Nathan didn't know that his brother's bodyguard, Liam Smith, had already flooded my phone with messages. "Ms. York, Mr. Theodore has already claimed you as his mate. Please, can you come and give him a kiss?" It turned out that I had fallen while skiing and died five years ago. His brother, Theodore Sinclair, marked me and gave me half of his lifespan, pulling me back from the jaws of death. That night, I wrapped my arms around Theodore's neck and teased him, "Theo, stop holding back. Tell me, how many years have you secretly been in love with me?"