Marina Vale

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

On our anniversary, I overheard my fiancé Eric Foster confess he couldn't let go of his first love. That's when I woke up. I stopped pretending—revealed my identity as Wilson Corporation heiress and entered a contract marriage with CEO William Lowe. He showed me a respect I'd never known. I thought it was just a transaction. But the closer I get, the more I realize: behind his cold, restrained exterior lies a madness that's been waiting for me all along.

Everyone used to say Ryan Scott loved me more than his own life.
I used to believe that too.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Ryan’s child—
and that’s when my adopted sister told me she was pregnant with his child as well.
So I chose revenge.
I emptied his accounts, staged the perfect accident, and planned my own “death.”
On the day I “died,” Ryan completely broke down, clutching my urn like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
While he sobbed his heart out in front of my photo, I was already holding another man’s hand—the man who never let go of me when I was at my lowest—
and walking toward the brand‑new life that truly belonged to me.

I am Harper, the wife who loved too deeply in a marriage built on a lie. For three years, I endured my husband Brandon Martinez’s cold indifference, knowing I was merely a pawn in his gamble against his first love. But when she returned, shattering my last illusions with her presence and his undeniable devotion to her, I finally woke up.
After a car accident left me injured and alone, while he comforted her, I realized my love was nothing but a one-sided tragedy. I chose to leave, signing a divorce agreement and walking away with nothing but my dignity. Now, as he desperately tries to win me back with belated tenderness and possessive demands, I stand firm. My heart, once broken by his neglect, has hardened. I am no longer the submissive wife waiting in the shadows; I am reclaiming my life, my career, and my future.

"Serena, let’s get a divorce."
I’d known his first love had returned.
I tucked my positive pregnancy test away and vanished without a word.
I never could’ve imagined this:
Nicholas lost his mind searching for me. He never gave up, not even for a second.
Years later, he spotted me holding a little kid’s hand. His eyes burned red, voice cracking as he whispered,
"Who’s the father of this child?"

They chopped off my limbs while I screamed for help. One by one, my blood family hung up on me.

I was their lost true daughter—brought back only because the fake one needed my rare blood to survive.

For three years, every song I wrote went to her. Every role I bled for went to her. My parents and three brothers stood by and called me selfish.

Until she lured me onto a yacht, peeled the skin off my face with rusted pliers, and tossed my broken body into the sea.

My own family said I deserved it.

I was reborn—on the day they demanded my next song.

This time, I ripped the sheet music to shreds. I walked out without looking back. I signed with the most powerful studio in the industry. I'll climb to the top, strip away their masks, and make the whole world watch as I collect every debt they owe me.

I've walked through hell.

This life?

I hold the blade.

I woke up on the operating table—minutes away from having my kidney harvested for the girl who ruined my life. Last time, I died alone, infected, while my family celebrated her “recovery.” Not this time.

I refused the surgery, exposed their lies, and walked out. Now, they call me crazy, ungrateful, a disgrace. But I see them for what they are: parasites who drained my talent, my money, and nearly my life.

I’m done begging for love that was never mine. Instead, I’m selling my music, acing exams, and building my own future—without them. Let them coddle their precious adopted princess. I have a second chance, and I’m not wasting it on people who’d bury me for their convenience.

This time, I choose me. Watch me burn brighter than their golden girl ever could.