Winning The Week

For our college graduation trip, I spent a whole week glued to various travel apps, finally snagging a half-price couples' train package. I was just about to share the good news with my boyfriend and call it a night when his message came through. "Anna's going through a breakup. She needs to get away and clear her head. We're gonna use those tickets." "See if you can grab yourself another single ticket. It's not that much anyway - like five or six hundred bucks." For a moment, I was speechless. Before he received the scholarship my dad’s pack had specifically established for him, five or six hundred dollars used to be his entire monthly allowance. After a moment of silence, I picked up my phone: “Dad, prepare a private jet for me. I want to take a trip alone before graduation.”

My husband, Liam, got his terminally ill ex-girlfriend, Chloe, pregnant. He said it was to grant her dying wish of becoming a mother. On the day she gave birth, Liam's sister, Isabella, hired a security firm to guard the hospital, claiming it was to prevent me from causing a scene. Isabella stood by Chloe's bedside. "Don't worry, I have people posted at the entrance. If Ava dares to show up and make trouble, we'll have her thrown out immediately." Liam, seeing I hadn't come, breathed a sigh of relief. "Chloe, just focus on delivering our baby safely. Don't worry about anything else." He truly believed that since he was only fulfilling his dying ex's last wish, I would never be so unreasonable as to make a fuss. Looking at the tiny, rosy infant in his arms, he sent me a text: "Darling, I did this for you. I had her carry a child for us, so you could finally be a mother." He thought that as long as I accepted it all, this child was my ultimate reward. But what he didn't know was that I had just surrendered my residency. In one week, I would be in Kenya, working as a volunteer on a project of biomedical research. It was meant to be a final goodbye—a world away from Liam, forever. But he was searching for me like a madman, pleading for me to return.

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

Every week, mt mate Alpha Bruce dragged a new side-chick into our bed. Right in front of me. They clawed at each other like I didn't exist. Each time felt like silver shredding through my chest, my wolf howling from the inside out. He did it to hurt me. On purpose. Over and over. Using their bodies to spit on what we used to be. Then came our ten-year anniversary banquet. He waltzed in with his side-piece—Moye. Five years he'd been screwing her. She wore my heels. My custom gown. Even the mate ring and necklace I once thought meant forever. Bruce stood there, smirking in front of the whole pack. "Don't like what she's wearing? Strip yours and hand it over. And don't bother coming to my bed tonight—she's a hundred times better." The room howled with laughter. I was the punchline. But I stood up, met his eyes, and said, "I want to break the bond." He snorted. "You've said that, what, a hundred times? I'm over it. You begged me to mark you, remember? Gave up your pride for that Luna crown." More laughter. But what none of them saw coming? This time, I was done. Done with him. Done with the Luna title. Done chasing something dead. I was ready to sever the mate bond—for real.

When I was six months pregnant, I was visiting the hospital when I saw my husband with his childhood friend, who had recently returned to the country. I was left holding my own prenatal checkup report, watching as they celebrated their soon-to-be born child. Still, Kelly Wallace appeared worried and even sounded guilty. "Quentin, you didn't have to come with me—I'm fine alone. If Jolin finds out, she'll definitely have a fight with you. She's pregnant too… it'll affect her mood and the baby." Quentin Smith was confidently nonchalant. "No, she won't—she always obeys me and loves me too much. If she does argue, I'll just divorce her!" My heat broke, tears of misery rushing down my cheek. But it was true. I loved him so much that I couldn't even bear to argue with him and always obeyed him. Even so, that didn't mean I was going to maintain this sham of a marriage after learning about his deceit. Since he didn't want me and our child, then I could raise my baby alone. Wiping away my tears, I called a number I hadn't called for five years. "Dad, can I come home?" "Oh, Jo! You finally called. Of course you're always welcomed home!" Hanging up, I booked a ticket for a flight to Switzerland that was due to depart a week later. I'd be out of his hair, so why was he losing his mind when he couldn't find me?

One week before our marking ceremony, my Alpha Mate, Corey Black, looks me straight in the eye and says something unbelievable, "I want to have a pup with my long-time friend Willow." At first, I assume it's a terrible joke, but I see determination in his serious expression. I suppress the churning feeling in my stomach and ask him why. He sighs, his gaze gentle as if he's soothing an unreasonable child. "Willow's old Beta father is dying. His only dying wish is to see Willow have a pup. We're doing it through IVF, so it won't hurt our relationship. "Her father devoted his entire life to the pack. You wouldn't refuse to fulfill even his dying wish, would you? You wouldn't be that cruel, right?" I don't know how to respond. He speaks as if not letting my fated mate have a pup with another woman is selfish. Later, when I go to visit the gravely ill old Beta, Corey is holding Willow Lester in his arms. His hand gently strokes her hair as he lets her sob against his chest. The moment our eyes meet, pain strikes my very soul. My wolf lets out a desperate howl of anguish. I stumble away, only to receive a text from him on the day of our marking ceremony. "Honey, Willow and I are undergoing the IVF procedure. Let's postpone the ceremony for now." I stare blankly at those words, my hand unconsciously moving to my still-flat stomach. Since he wants so badly to have a pup with another woman, I will grant his wish and disappear with my pup.

Three years into my marriage with Dominick, Gia, his stepsister, sent me a video clip out of nowhere. I tapped on the video, only to find Dominick tying his stepsister to the bedpost with the tie I had given him. His stepsister lay naked under him, addressing him intimately. After getting their freak on, they shared an embrace, and Gia cozied up against Dominick and uttered, “I don’t like the ring you bought me. Give it to Luna, and tell her it’s a birthday gift from me.” The next day, I sat in an upscale restaurant and stared at the vacant seat across the table. Suddenly, the Underboss wheeled a massive cake toward me. “Don Costa was called away on urgent business. He sent me to deliver your birthday gift.” The box contained his stepsister’s discarded reject. My phone buzzed with new pictures from Gia. Dominick was at the hospital with Gia for a check-up. Without a fuss, I signed the divorce papers and made preparations for a wedding. “Donna Costa, whose names should I put down as the bride and groom?” “Dominick and Gia.” A week from now, I would show the world the kind of filth the supposed solemn Don had been rolling in with his stepsister.

My fiancé was the CEO of a powerful financial conglomerate, and to the outside world, he adored me beyond measure. A week before our wedding, I found out I was pregnant with triplets. I had planned to tell him the joyful news in person. But instead, I witnessed him in bed with other women. Not with just one. It felt like a knife had carved into my soul, cutting so deep I lost all hope, all trust. My tears begged for release, but I held my head high, forcing myself to stay strong. For him, I had given up everything—my pride, my family, my career. Yet he chose to share our love with others. All those vows to love me and only me for a lifetime had been lies. Our so-called future, our wedding—it was all a cruel joke. He was no longer the man I once loved. He had become tainted. I would not endure his betrayal. He no longer deserved to be the father of my children. So I made my decision—to disappear, to fake my death and start over, to give myself and my babies a chance at a free, unburdened life. But I never imagined he'd become obsessed and start searching the world for women who resembled me, all while declaring I was the only one he ever loved. Too little, too late. His affection now is worth nothing. This time, I'm not looking back.

My husband's ex, Sarah Miller, once ditched him to chase a rich guy. When she came back, she was crippled, dragging along two scrawny kids. The day I found out I was pregnant, Jake Carter demanded a divorce. "Sarah is too weak to manage alone, and her kids need someone. I've got to step up," he said. I nodded calmly and went straight to the hospital for an abortion. In my past life, I fought to keep the baby and refused the divorce, even exposing Sarah's dirty secrets to the world. Her reputation was ruined. She became a pariah, and eventually, she took her kids and ended it all. In her blood-soaked suicide note, she blamed me for driving her to despair. Thus, Jake hated me to the core. He hired thugs to assault me, posted the video online, and spread lies that I was a cheater. In the end, he threw me and our child into the sea. As I died, he snarled, "This is what you get for killing Sarah!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day he demanded a divorce. This time, I agreed on the spot. Jake was thrilled, dreaming of winning Sarah back. What he didn't know was that, in my past life, I uncovered why Sarah was dumped. Her private life was a mess, and she caught AIDS.

Owen Gray and I get into an accident. I'm seven months pregnant, but I save him anyway. I end up in a coma. I wake up after three years. Owen has amnesia, and he's now my sister's husband. My child also calls her his mother. I try everything, but Owen doesn't remember me. Instead, his love for my sister grows deeper. Even our son blames me for waking him and ruining their happy lives. When I finally decide to let go, I overhear a conversation between Owen and someone else. "Shannon was willing to give up her life for you, Owen. If she finds out your amnesia is an act…" "There's only a week to go before my three-year agreement with her sister is over. I'll give Vivian the wedding she wants. Then, I'll act like I've recovered from my amnesia. Luca and I will return to Shannon's side." I'm stunned. I never would've expected Owen to be pretending to be an amnesiac. I look at the diagnosis report in my hands. It's too bad I can't even wait for a week.