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Aria was the Luna of the Winter Mist pack, renowned for her achievements in war strategy. Her contribution was crucial in her pack becoming the most powerful in the entire country. Everything in her life should be perfect. ...Except it wasn't. In actuality, Aria's life was anything but successful. She was helpless to the whims of her abusive Alpha mate and his mistress. A mate who never loved her. As she watches their relationship grow, her options are to run away or die trying to keep her Luna position. But this is not the story of how Aria sways his closed-off heart until he finally loves her. No, this is the story of how Aria died. So when she is faced with the opportunity to go back in time and try again... will she take it? ...Or is she fated to relive her mistakes all over again? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...And if I refuse?" I asked hesitantly. "Then you will remain in the Abyss, forever reliving your earthly memories." My mind recalled the images that had just tormented me, showing me my death over and over again. I knew now she must have shown me that strategically so I had a taste of what my refusal would look like. "Then I don't want to be Luna again... and I don't want to be Aleric's mate," I said, surprising even myself that I was bargaining with a Goddess. But I couldn't shake the feeling something seemed off. "That is the fate I have chosen for you." "Then I don't accept," I argued. "I think there is something you're not telling me. A reason why you need me to go back so badly." She was silent, her silver eyes regarding me warily. "...So I am correct," I said, taking her silence as confirmation.

Fresh out of college, Clara Stewart asked me to take on a $500,000 mortgage for her. When I refused, she turned around and bought an $800,000 villa in full, for another guy. Holding up the property deed, she told me: "Jayden, the truth is, I'm actually rich. I've been pretending to be poor to test you. Unfortunately, you failed. I'm disappointed in you. Let's break up." I simply smiled and walked away without a second thought. The irony? I'm the son of the richest man in the country. I was pretending to be broke, too. Fast forward four years, we met again at the National Wealth Summit. Clara had just barely made it into the top 50 on the list, clinging to the arm of Henry Brown as they entered. She spotted me in simple clothes with no visible brand, holding a child in one arm and the keys to a Porsche Cayenne in the other. Thinking I was someone's driver, she sneered: "Jayden, you really went all out just to see me again? Let's be real, you're just a driver now, and I'm on the wealth list. We live in completely different worlds. Don't waste your time fantasizing." I did not bother replying. Honestly, I was only there because my billionaire dad insisted. I had finally cleared a day to spend with my son and now I had to waste it on that.

I was slowly dying from Silverthorn Wolfsbane, and there was only one cure—the Miracle Elixir. But my mate, Leo Ashford, bought it and gave it to my adoptive sister, Jane Smith. He did it because he thought I was faking my illness. I gave up on the treatment and swallowed a potent painkiller instead. It would kill me in three days by shutting down my organs. In those three days, I gave up everything. I handed over the fur manufacturing business I built from the ground up to Jane, and my parents praised me for caring about my sister. I offered to sever our mate bond, and Leo praised me for finally being sensible. When I told my son he could call Jane "mommy", he happily said that his new mommy was the best! I transferred all my savings to Jane, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were just pleased with my "better behavior". "Viola is finally not so bad." I wondered—would they regret it after I was gone?

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

Ruchee had long forgotten what it meant to live for herself. Since the day life stole both parents from her and left a fragile little sister in her trembling hands, she became everything at once, mother, father, shield, and sacrifice. She built her world from sleepless nights, ruthless decisions, and endless risks, caring for no one beyond the thin line of blood that tied her to the only family she had left. People were distractions. Friendship was unnecessary. Love was a luxury she could never afford. For Ruchee, survival was simple: keep moving, keep fighting, and never let anyone close enough to become another weakness. Until one night, everything was ripped away. Abducted without warning, Ruchee woke up inside a world she never knew existed, a lavish empire drenched in money, sin, and human desperation. There, beneath crystal chandeliers and behind the smiles of monsters dressed in silk, she was no longer a woman. She was merchandise. A rare prize. One of the highest-valued items in the most notorious underground auction where the powerful came not to bid for possessions, but for people. Men with blood-stained fortunes and godlike influence watched her like hungry predators, each number called dragging her closer to a fate worse than death. But among them stood one man. An extraordinary billionaire feared even by the underworld itself. Untouchable. Merciless. A collector of dangerous things. And the moment his eyes settled on her, Ruchee realized the auction was only the beginning. Will she find a way to escape before her freedom is sold to the highest bidder? Or will she become the most prized possession of the one man no one dares to refuse?

At The Gilded Academy, Ivy St. Claire was a ghost. To her husband, Julian Vane, she was a mistake, a "charity case" scholarship student he was forced to marry. For three years, she endured his coldness and his public affairs, waiting for the day her "trial" would end. On graduation night, Julian hands her divorce papers in front of the entire school to propose to his mistress. He expected her to cry. Instead, she laughed. When the "poor scholarship girl" returns as the CEO of the world’s largest diamond conglomerate, Julian’s world crumbles. He realizes too late that he didn't just divorce a nobody; he divorced the only woman who could save his empire. Now, he’s on his knees, but Ivy isn't looking down. She’s already moved on.