The Beloved Novel Novels & Stories

The three of us got dragged into a horror game. My handsome CEO husband, Adrian Chase, tore through dungeon after dungeon and shot straight into the top four on the player leaderboard. Then we entered an SSS-level dungeon, and he and our son decided I was deadweight. They left me behind in a monster-filled zone. The chat instantly blew up: [Adrian Chase is so hot! He should've dumped that deadweight forever ago!] [Theo's only ten and already this strong? Total mini-Adrian.] [Adrian and the number two player, Mollie, are perfect together. I ship them so hard!] I was crouched in a pool of blood, zoning out, when a shadow dropped over me. The stream chat lost it: [Holy crap! That's the SSS-level BOSS!] [Did she freeze up?! Run!] I looked back— The boss who had the entire server terrified dropped to one knee without hesitation, silver hair spilling across my lap. "Master, you haven't spent time with me in three days..." I shoved his stupidly handsome face away. "Not now. I'm busy." Viewer chat: [Wait, WHAT did we just hear?!]

When the star pirate, Black Mamba demanded one of us give birth to his child, my older sister didn't hesitate to sacrifice me. I never imagined that after my cruel death and eventual rebirth, she would throw herself into his clutches instead. When I saw that terrible serpentine swelling once more, horrifying memories sent shivers through my body. All I wanted to do was run. But my sister grabbed me by the jaw. "You've been reborn too! I'm going to make you suffer!" I could tell she meant it.

Near the end of the year, my best friend, Bethany Greer, and I decide to buy matching gold-plated bangles from Temu for ten dollars just to keep up appearances. The moment we open the package, we both freeze in shock. The heavy weight in our hands and the dazzling shine of pure gold practically scream luxury and authenticity. My hands tremble as I quickly snap a photo and message the seller. I text, "There seems to be something wrong with this order." The seller replies instantly, sounding incredibly arrogant. "Why did you only say something is wrong only after you received it? What were you doing earlier?" I try to send photos as proof. "No, seriously, look at what I'm holding first. I ordered fake bangles..." The seller does not even look at the pictures and immediately sends a voice message in an incredibly rude tone. "I don't care what you order! Once the package is opened, there's no seven-day return policy! Even if it rots in your hands, that's your problem! Don't try making excuses to scam stuff for free. Once the packaging is opened, it belongs to you. Not even the Almighty can help you return it! "And if you dare spread nonsense, I'll report you for posting malicious reviews!" I stare thoughtfully at the gold bangle on my wrist that is worth thousands of dollars. Well, since he insists so strongly, I guess I'll reluctantly keep it. I just hope he doesn't regret it when he realizes the real bangle is missing!

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

In my previous life, my husband Kael Drayne, heir to the Beast King's throne and full-blooded dragon, cut open my belly with his own hands on the day I gave birth. He pulled our child out and dashed it against the floor in front of me. That was the moment I finally understood. The one he truly loved was my stepsister, Ivy Wren. Because she couldn't bear to watch the man she loved marry someone else, Ivy had staged a dramatic exit on our wedding day, slipping out alone, only to run into a gang of rogue beastkin. She vanished without a trace. Kael blamed every last bit of it on me. He hated me for it with everything he had. "Just because you're the only pure-blooded white wolf, you think you had the right to come between me and Ivy? She's gone because of you. I'm going to throw you to the horde — let you feel exactly what she went through." But he was the one who'd pursued me. He was the one who'd confessed his feelings. It was because I chose him that he was able to claim the throne at all. None of it mattered to him. There was nothing left in his eyes but hatred. Kael hurled me into a frenzied beast horde, and I was torn apart. In those final moments, I saw three figures, Kael's three unremarkable bastard brothers, charging toward me through the chaos, trying to drag me out. But the numbers were too great, the gap in power too wide. In the end, they died there alongside me. I thought my story ended there, full of regret. Then I woke up. I'd been reborn to just before Kael and I were to marry. This time, I wasn't going to choose him. And that, apparently, drove him out of his mind.

In dragon families, tail-wrapping was only reserved for one’s mate. I did not know that. All I knew was that when my heater broke in winter, my best friend had left her four-year-old nephew at my place, whose body temperature was absurdly high. That night, I shamelessly coaxed him. “Be good. Can you stretch out your little tail and let me warm my feet with it?” He paused for a moment, then obediently extended his small, golden dragon tail and wrapped it around my ankle. It was warm and glowing, like a tiny sun. I happily enjoyed it for three days. Until the livestream comments exploded. [Tail wrapping means claiming a mate! She let the Dragon Emperor’s youngest brother wrap her for three days! That’s basically marriage in dragon society!] [The Dragon Emperor himself is diving down from the heavens! His ETA is in 5 seconds!] The moment the ceiling exploded, the little kid transformed into a golden-scaled dragon, blocking the opening and roaring, “Bro! She’s finally warmed her feet, yet you just blew open the ceiling. Now, all the cold air is coming in!”

I loved Spencer. Even though I knew he only saw Fiona when he looked at me. I clung to the wedding dress he picked out himself, holding onto the dream of a future that felt so close. But on our wedding day, she came back. In front of everyone, he has my dress ripped apart—for her. Now, he knelt before my grave, begging for forgiveness. But all I could think was, even here, he was ruining my peace.

I had a perception disorder that messed with how I saw and felt stuff. So when I got dropped into a horror game, everyone else freaked out trying to survive— Me? I thought I was in a dating sim. I raised a young fae like she was my kid, fell for the vampire count, and treated the undead like my in-laws. The first time I saw the vampire—face torn up, soaked in blood—I straight-up blushed. "You're really handsome." He froze. Then, low and uncertain: "Am I... really handsome?"

On my sweet sixteen, my three brothers came home with a girl named Sylvie. They said I have to treat her like my family. I didn’t think much would change. But years later, everything did. Jace, my youngest brother, shoved me down the stairs for her. Asher—the oldest, who once promised he'd protect me forever—told me to get out. So I left. Quietly. They thought I was just acting out. So they took Sylvie to France, didn't even bothering to check in What they didn’t know was that I’d signed my name on a contract—one that aligned me with our family’s biggest rival by becoming their youngest chemist. Written in black and white, I could never go home again. The night they found out I was really gone for good? They broke. Every last one of them.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.