Does JoJo A Little Too Late Have A Sequel?

“Strip off her clothes!” It never occurred to Gwen White that her husband would order a bunch of men to strip her! Throughout the ten years of crushing on him and two years of marriage, Gwen loved Jared Crawford madly, but he despised and hated her to her bones. That said, when Gwen decided to leave Jared for good, he personally brought her back from the depths of hell and begged her to start all over again...

She never chose him. Her family chose for her. An arranged marriage. A life she never wanted. But she tried… she truly tried. She loved. She hoped. She forgave far too much. Until the day she discovered two betrayals at once her husband’s… and her best friend’s. That was the day her heart shattered completely. But something else was born inside her, too. She will learn to rise. To become a woman who says no. A woman who stands on her own. A woman who never looks back. And when another man enters her life simple, gentle, patient. she discovers that real love exists. The kind of love that doesn’t hurt. Her husband will understand… too late. Because she won’t return. This time, it’s over. This time, it’s too late to love her.

After sacrificing eight years for the man she loved, Dr. Ariana is rewarded with betrayal. A chance encounter with Lucian Moretti, the city's most feared mafia king, changes everything. One reckless night binds their fates, but deadly enemies and a painful misunderstanding tear them apart. When destiny reunites them, one question remains: Was I too late?

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

On New Year's Eve, my boyfriend, Leon Parker, proposed to Charlotte Rain in front of all our relatives.  I didn’t cry or make a scene. All I wanted was an explanation for the years of love I had invested in him. Then, I overheard a conversation he had with his brother. “You’ve been together with Annabelle for so many years. Have you never had any feelings for her?” “Feelings? What are you talking about? I only kept her around to entertain myself and kill some time.” “Aren't you worried she’ll leave you?” “That’s impossible! We’ve been together for five whole years. She’s so used to being with me that she could never leave me even if she wanted to.” After that, I had a whirlwind marriage with a blind date my family matched me with, and our wedding just so happened to be on the same day as his. Before his wedding, he was on edge, worried I’d show up to make a scene. That was when he saw the wedding invitation I posted online.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.