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The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?

Lyra Mae Miracle considers her life perfect just as it is. Amazing friends, decent enough grades, the best family, and an annoying brother with his equally annoying friends. But when the past that she's worked so hard to forget comes back to bite her, she learns that her life is far from perfect. With a downhill spiral of her life, she finally learns to accept help from those who want to. She blocked people out because of her past, even if it was unconsciously. But she can't let the past take control of the present. So she's going to end everything. Set the line, and accept reality. All to obtain what she would most definitely consider, a perfect life. But nobody and nothing is perfect, and imperfections is what makes perfection. Perfectly imperfect.

They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Cassidy Lane is about to find out that's a lie. After catching her fiancé Tristan in bed with his assistant, Cassidy escapes to Sin City to drown her humiliation in cheap whiskey. She doesn't expect to meet a darkly handsome stranger at the bar—a man with cold eyes and a dangerous smile who listens to her rant about cheating men like she's the most fascinating person alive. One reckless night, a kitschy chapel, and two slurred "I do's" later, Cassidy wakes up in a penthouse she can't afford, wearing a diamond ring worth more than her apartment. After catching her fiancé Tristan in bed with his assistant, Cassidy escapes to Sin City to drown her humiliation in cheap whiskey. She doesn't expect to meet a darkly handsome stranger at the bar—a man with cold eyes and a dangerous smile who listens to her rant about cheating men like she's the most fascinating person alive. One reckless night, a kitschy chapel, and two slurred "I do's" later, Cassidy wakes up in a penthouse she can't afford, wearing a diamond ring worth more than her apartment. Then her new husband walks in. Damien Blackwood. Tech billionaire. Ruthless CEO. The most feared man in the country. And Tristan's boss. Cassidy demands an annulment. Damien refuses. With a multi-billion-dollar merger on the line, a scandal would destroy everything he's built. His solution? A six-month contract. She plays the perfect wife in public, and he'll fund her dream of opening her own event planning studio. No feelings. No complications. Just business. As the lines between contract and chemistry blur, Cassidy must decide: Is this marriage the worst mistake of her life… or the perfect match she never knew she needed?

“You were never meant to love me, Elena,” Alexander said coldly. “This marriage was always about settling a score.” “And I was never meant to find out, was I?” she shot back, her voice shaking with anger and heartbreak. Elena Spears, a gifted artist with humble beginnings, never imagined her life would be upended by an arranged marriage to Alexander Wells, a powerful and enigmatic billionaire. To the outside world, their union is a perfect fairytale. But behind the gilded facade lies a devastating truth: Alexander’s love is a lie, and their marriage is the key to his meticulously planned revenge against her father—the man responsible for his family’s ruin. As Elena’s kindness and passion begin to unravel the cold walls Alexander has built around his heart, his plan starts to crumble. For the first time, he’s torn between the vengeance that has fueled him for years and the woman who’s shown him the possibility of redemption. But trust is fragile, and secrets are deadly. When the truth comes to light, will their love survive the ultimate betrayal, or will it destroy them both? In a world of power, deceit, and undeniable attraction, Alexander and Elena are caught in a battle for love—and the chance to rewrite their fates.

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest friends teasing her. "Emmy, how much longer are you planning to keep up this fake-death act?" A familiar voice answered, one I could never mistake, that was tinged with indulgence and amusement. "As soon as Corbin Ellery's heart condition is cured. Back then, if Grayson hadn't insisted on sending the butler to the destruction plant, Corbin wouldn't have needed to pretend his system malfunctioned. And I wouldn't have had to fake my death to help him disappear completely." Another friend clicked her tongue. "Still, nobody expected you to go this far. Having Corbin wear a custom synthetic skin suit and pose as a robot butler right under your husband's nose all those years? That's insane." Fake death? Corbin? The blood drained from my face. The woman I had mourned for five years was alive. And the robot that had stirred her desire had never been a robot at all. It was my closest friend. A passing server accidentally slammed into me, sending a tray crashing to the floor. The conversation inside stopped instantly. Emmy turned toward the doorway, and our eyes met.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.