Are There Sequels To The One Hundred Years Of Solitude?

Alpha Fabian's first reaction to learning I was his fated mate? Rejection. But drunk at the bonfire festival, he couldn't fight the pull of fate. He marked me. Marking a rejected mate came with a price. His power weakened. Forced into a bond with me, he despised me. For two years, I bled for him. I did 100 impossible things, just hoping for a single glance. I snuck into forbidden lands for rare herbs. I negotiated with enemy packs. I fought on the front lines for him in pack wars, always coming back covered in scars. But the one he truly loved was my adopted sister, Gloria. Even my own parents, the pack's Beta, hated me. I was their lost daughter, raised by rogues for fifteen years. But they only had eyes for their perfect, obedient adopted girl. Then, on my 100th task, I nearly died in the Valley of Shadows. When I woke up, I had amnesia. I was done chasing a cold mate and a family's love I'd never have. And when I finally walked away, Fabian discovered the truth. It was never me who couldn't live without him. It was always him.

My wife, Rosalind Judd, has been tearing up our marriage certificate 99 times in the past ten years of our marriage. This is her usual tactic to make me apologize and make amends. The first time, I transfer 100 thousand dollars for Rosalind to come back from her travel abroad with her childhood friend, Jackson Lane. The tenth time, she ruins the anniversary I have prepared meticulously and forces me to immediately help him get back to work. The 50th time, she humiliates me in front of my client during the day and forces me to sign over the transfer agreement to a villa at night, while she has a candlelit dinner with Jackson. ... Now, for the 100th time, she forces me to transfer my company shares. Staring at the love bites on Rosalind's collarbone, I suddenly chuckle. Then, I board the plane decisively. This time, I no longer want her.

The 100th time Dexter Carrington ditches me to help my best friend with her lab work, I write the final line in my diary and break up with him. Dexter is exasperated, to say the least. "I genuinely don't know how your amygdala is wired. Your emotions have completely bulldozed your rational thinking." My best friend, Brianna Holt, laughs. "That's cruel. You're insulting her intelligence in words she can't even understand." She's right. I don't understand. The two of them dominate the biology department rankings every year, taking first and second place, and are the kind of prodigies even their professors defer to. I'm just an ordinary student at the music school next door. When they talk about how cells have their own rhythms, the only thing I can think to ask is what time signature those rhythms are in. Dexter always hates that. "If you don't understand, don't chime in." So now I listen. I don't chime in anymore. Because the first page of this diary reads, "Today is my birthday, but Dexter chose to go over data with Brianna. "By the time this diary is full, I'm leaving him for good."

He is the most terrifying man in the Empire—Hadrian, the Lord Protector. Cold, ruthless, and dictatorial, he rules the chaotic world with an iron fist, crushing rebellions without mercy. To the world, he is a monster devoid of human emotion; a tyrant who bathes in blood. She is a rose growing in the mire—an ordinary, low-born girl struggling to survive in the slums. She possesses nothing but her pride and a fragile life. Their worlds should never have collided. But in a twist of fate amidst the smoke of revolution, the lofty Dictator set his eyes on the humble commoner. He didn't know how to love, so he used the only method he knew: Conquest. He clipped her wings, trapped her in his gilded cage, and forced her to bloom only for him. "You fear me," Hadrian whispered, his fingers tracing her trembling lips. "Good. Because in this lifetime, you will never escape me." In a game of power and submission, can a tyrant learn to kneel for love? And can a bird in a cage tame the beast?

Born into a blended family, Chantelle grew up on the sidelines, raised with love by her grandmother after her mother's death. Shut out by her father Gérard, dominated by his new wife Rhonda, and relegated to the background behind her pretentious stepsister Mégane, she learned to survive in silence. When her grandmother is diagnosed with a terminal illness, Chantelle's world crumbles. With no family support and overwhelmed by medical bills, she accepts a desperate proposition: one hundred nights for one million euros, with a wealthy man whose identity she will never know. The rules are simple. A blindfold over her eyes, a stranger's touch, and silence. He never speaks. She never sees. He leaves her with anonymous bank transfers... and the haunting scent of his perfume as her only memory. Twelve nights pass. Then, forced by her father to attend a family dinner, Chantelle comes face to face with Mégane's fiancé: Collen Wilkerson—the cold, unapproachable CEO of the powerful corporation where she works as a simple employee. He is a man she knows only from a distance. Arrogant. Untouchable. But when he steps closer, a familiar scent wraps around her, and the world stops. It's his perfume. The same as the masked man. She has already spent twelve nights in his arms. And there are still eighty-eight to go.

Rolape suffers sleep paralysis and traumas. She blames her parents for her turmoils but as she strives to be a better person, she ironically discovers that her tribulations are pointing her silently to a purpose.