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On the day I get back together with Leo Laycond, he uploads a photo of us on his social media account. I stare at the post for three long minutes until I notice a silver lock icon on the bottom right corner. It turns out that Leo has blocked Lisa Laycand, his younger adopted sister. That sister of his is always the person he cares about the most. I tell Leo calmly, "If you yearn for Lisa even more, I can always cancel the mating ceremony." Leo panics immediately. He deletes the restriction in front of the entire pack so that they can witness our reunion. Half an hour later, Lisa rushes into the training grounds in nothing but a thin dress. Then, she "collapses" in front of Leo. I watch as Leo scoops Lisa into his arms. It's an action that's very familiar to him, as though he's done it hundreds of times. Suddenly, I realize that the engagement with Leo bores me to no end.

"I will take her in exchange," Alpha Dante declared, and the ball room instantly quieted down, and all eyes turned to the said girl. Whispers filled the ballroom, although it was rather useless since everyone could hear them clearly with their heightened senses. Rhea, the object of discussion, stood there in tattered clothes, confused and seemingly lost. She never wanted to draw so much attention to herself, but here she was with everyone's eyes on her because of a single statement from one man. "I am sorry, Alpha Dante, you must be mistaken, that is not my daughter..." Alpha Collins said but was rudely interrupted by Alpha Dante. "She is the one I want,” Alpha Dante said coldly. “Give her to me or forget about our deal.” ***** Born a mix of blood, half vampire, and half werewolf, Rhea was neither considered a werewolf nor a vampire. Just someone who wasn't needed. Someone who shouldn't exist. Someone whose existence was an abomination. Her father's absence in her life and her mother's passing rendered Rhea homeless, nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. She is forced to fend for herself from an early age, serving as a maid in the packhouse despite being hated and scorned by all. Dante, an alpha whose path had always been painted Scarlet, cursed by the moon goddess, walked a lone and bloodied path. He never asked for a mate and never wanted one after all. He was cursed by the very entity their race worships. He never thought he needed one until he met her. For the first time, he felt his heart waver, his silent beast stirred in the presence of another and definitely not out of hostility.

When Nadia Marlowe attends the annual writers’ conference in California, all she has in mind is a break from the regular activities back home, an autograph from her favourite author, and the desire to connect with writers from around the world. That is, until the air conditioner in her hotel room starts spitting hot air, and a technician is sent in to fix it. Suddenly, the conference no longer matters. The goals she arrived with disappear into thin air, replaced by an undeniable awareness of the extremely handsome technician standing across from her. One thing leads to another, and a simple repair session turns into an intense encounter that leaves Nadia shaken to her core. Disgusted with herself for crossing a line she never thought she would—married, with children—Nadia leaves California after the conference determined to bury the experience and pretend it never happened. But fate has a sense of humour, and Nadia Marlowe becomes its favourite recipient. Her husband’s longtime friend arrives for a business discussion, and to her horror, that friend turns out to be Fabian, the same technician she had mouth watering sex with back in California. Lost for words, Nadia struggles to survive his stay in her home. But fate isn’t finished yet. Fabian’s visit stretches longer than planned. To make matters worse, he is trapped in an on-and-off relationship, and also has a daughter. He knows the damage he’s causing. He knows that after everything Nadia’s husband has done for him, betraying him this way is unforgivable. Yet the pull toward Nadia is something he cannot control. What began as a single reckless moment spirals into a dangerous affair, one filled with desire, guilt, and secrets, threatening to destroy marriages, friendships, and the perfect life Nadia has built.

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

A post accusing me of feeding my employees free lunches worse than pig feed goes viral online. However, none of them know that the daily free lunches are all catered from a five-star hotel at 100 dollars per head. The entire internet goes crazy, calling me names and accusing me of being an evil boss. Even my co-founder, Dustin Jager, texts me and says, "Maybe we should go with what the employees want and change it to a meal allowance plan instead." I harden my heart and send out a company-wide announcement. "In response to everyone's pursuit of healthy eating and the right to choose their own lunches, the company has decided to discontinue the free lunch program. "A meal reimbursement plan will be introduced instead, effective immediately, with a daily limit of 20 dollars per person per day. All reimbursements will be calculated at the end of the month with the presentation of valid receipts." As soon as the announcement is made, the company's chat groups immediately go berserk.

My husband, Finn Dawson, and I get into a car crash on our way home for the holidays. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to before Finn and I started dating. In my past life, we were married for seven years. We got along well enough, yet he refused to give me a child. Only later did I find out it was because he was still hung up on his true love. Now that I've been reborn, I decide to give him what he wants. He and I delete each other's numbers and keep our distance. We choose wholly different paths in this life. Seven years later, Finn becomes one of the world's best traders. He and his true love, Yvonne Gray, make things official during a class reunion. When he sees that I'm alone, he can't help but mock me. "I know I'm the one you love most, despite living two lives, Sylvia. You don't have to keep waiting around for me, though." I ignore him and hold my son's hand. The blood drains from Finn's face when he sees this, and his eyes turn bloodshot. He snarls, "Didn't you say you would love me forever? Didn't you say you would only have my children?"

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."