205 Book(s) Related to lil pentagram

This was Killian’s tenth time bringing a stray werewolf into our bedroom.
I didn’t growl like before, nor did I threaten her.
I picked up the old cloak from the floor and handed it to the girl trembling in the corner.
“Leave through the back door. The patrol just passed.”
The girl glanced at me fearfully, grabbed the cloak, and ran out.
Killian leaned against the headboard.
Bare-chested, a cigar in hand, his expression was full of arrogance.
“She’s just a newly matured stray werewolf. Don’t scare her.”
“Elira, you come from noble blood. You wouldn’t make a fuss about this.”
“Tonight is her first transformation. I need to be with her. I won’t be back.”
I lowered my head, hiding my golden eyes.
What Killian didn’t know was—
that stray girl was carrying the highly contagious and fatal Rotting Sickness.

When the pain started, my mother-in-law called me a monster, then drove off like a madwoman. My doctor slit his own throat in front of me. My husband locked me away "for my safety."
I thought they didn't want my baby. That they were horrified by the child I carried.
But I was wrong.
The thing growing inside me was never my child at all.

I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was ten years old.
At first, my parents were terrified. They watched me closely, rushed me to the hospital over every bruise, every nosebleed. I was the fragile one—the child who needed saving.

Then years passed.
They got used to it.
They got tired.

By the time my twin sister was graduating and my family was finally breathing again, I was about to turn eighteen.
And that night, while everyone believed I’d be fine like always, I bled to death.

Since marrying into the Sterling family, I've been pregnant three times. Not one of them survived.

Every time the DNA test report arrived, my mother-in-law would drag me to the clinic for an abortion.

They said the fetus had genetic defects. But I secretly went to an outside hospital for tests, and the report clearly stated everything was normal.

After my third miscarriage, I followed my in-laws to the basement I was forbidden to enter.

I held my breath and pressed my eye to the crack in the door.

In that moment, I finally knew why they had to kill my babies.

Juliet Austin was an Omega meant to be used and discarded.

For years, she was drained to keep her sister alive. When her sister vanished before a political mating meant to save the Frostfang Pack, Juliet was chosen as the replacement.

A bride was required.
And no one would miss an Omega.

Forced into the bed of Alpha Kaius Blair, the most feared Lycan King alive, Juliet expected death. Instead, she became the woman he could never forget.

Then she disappeared.

To survive, Juliet erased her past and was reborn as Austin Voss. She was no longer weak, no longer obedient, and no longer willing to be sacrificed.

But fate is relentless.

When Alpha Kaius finds her again, he does not recognize the woman standing before him. She is calm, unbowed, and powerful in her own right.

Once an Omega offered as a replacement bride, Juliet must now decide whether to keep running from her past or turn back and claim the destiny they tried to steal from her.

A story of rebirth, identity, and a mate bond that refuses to be forgotten.

Alpha Dominic, leader of Blackrock pack. He is fearless, violent, strong, fast and extremely ruthless. Heartbroken for the death of his beloved Luna, he hates the humans with passion cause he believes they are responsible for her death. But the moon goddess punished his hateful heart by giving him a new mate who is not just very young and naive but a fucking HUMAN!

Make a choice, live on the streets or work for you EX?


After a wild night with her friends, married Kimberly Anderson woke up in a hotel room next to a stranger. A month later, she became pregnant and unsure of who was responsible. Her husband, Ernest White, demanded a divorce after he found out about her night with the stranger. He kicked her out and after five years, their paths crossed at Ernest's multi-billion dollar advertising company. This awakened the feelings within them but Ernest decided to make her his PA and make her pay for breaking his heart.

I was nine months pregnant, soaking in the tub, when an anonymous email popped up.
The first attachment was my husband’s medical report. [Severe Azoospermia. 100% Sterile.]
I touched my swollen belly. If Arthur was sterile, whose baby was this?
The second attachment was a news article. [Billionaire's Pregnant Wife Drowns in Master Bath.]
The publication date was tomorrow morning. I thought it was a sick prank.
Then, the bathroom door opened. My husband stood there, loosening his tie.
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.

I was reborn on the exact day I was supposed to sign the marriage contract with the Alpha Kael.

I didn't hesitate. I crossed out my name and wrote my stepsister's instead. Let her have the bastard. I took my mother's estate back and headed straight to the underground shifter bar.

"Bring me the hottest wolf warriors you've got. All of them," I told the bartender, slapping a wad of cash down.

I was done being the obedient Luna.

On our first wedding anniversary, I walked into my husband's office and found him having sex with my best friend.

He didn't even apologize. Instead, claiming he was disgusted that I hadn't produced an heir in a year of marriage, he threw divorce papers in my face.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my new husband—Cassian Vitiello, the Godfather of the North American underworld.

Vincent ran into me at the docks. He handed me a business card, offering me a job as a nanny for his mistress's son.

What he didn't know was that the woman he was mocking was now the Donna—the woman the entire East Coast underground feared.

Five years ago, my sister vanished the night before her wedding. She left behind a crying newborn in a crib and a mafia heir on the verge of losing control.

And I was forced into her place—the temporary bride, the contract wife, the whispered “replacement” in every gilded hallway.

I thought I only had to survive five years. Five years to earn what I was promised, and then walk away from this city of shadows and blood.

I clawed my way through bullets, politics, and betrayal. I earned respect. I gained power.
And somehow... I tasted a tenderness I was never meant to have.

Now, with only ten days left on our marriage contract, I thought everything was finally under control. I thought freedom and power were within reach.

Until she came back—wrapped in grace, dripping secrets, smiling as if she owned the world she abandoned.

She looked at me and said, “Little sister, give me back my life.”

The day after Lucian was titled Duke, he locked down the estate to find the woman who climbed into his bed.
In my first life, I claimed the honor. He grabbed my hand and sneered, "That woman has a scar."
I froze to death in the ice cellar.
In my second life, Martha slashed her own hand and stepped forward. He ripped her collar open. "She has a cross tattoo on her chest. Do you?"
His hounds tore her throat out in the snow.
Now we're in our third life. The Duke just issued a three-day ultimatum, dead certain that the woman is hiding in the Duchess's wing.
Martha and I stared at each other. We're the only two maids serving the Duchess.

Maeve and I dragged a dying animal out of the rain. We thought we were saving a life. Instead, we invited a monster to our door for a blood oath. In my first life, I accepted the oath and died screaming. In the second, Maeve took my place and was skinned alive. This is our third chance.

I was his most obedient blood slave. When he needed strength, I offered my blood; when he was irritable, I endured his temper. Even when he held his new lover and prepared for their wedding, I stayed silent at his feet. He thought I was born to bow, never realizing the poison hidden deep in my veins—the poison meant to end him. And when he bit into my skin for the final time, what he drank wasn’t power but his own doom. As his bloodline collapsed before my eyes, he finally fell to his knees, trembling, begging me for mercy. I only looked at him and smiled. He never understood—I was never his plaything. I was merely waiting for the right moment to take my revenge.

My dad was a highly decorated narcotics detective. Fifteen years ago, they framed him for corruption and claimed he swallowed his own gun. It ruined our family.
But tonight, everything changed. I was digging through his old evidence box when a heavy, battery-less police radio suddenly crackled to life.
"Pumpkin, I'm bringing a turkey home."
"Dad! Don't go to the motel today!"
Right before my eyes, the ink on his autopsy report physically shifted. "Suicide" twisted into "homicide."

My mom ran an exclusive underground fertility clinic. Her dark red serum smelled like rotting blood, yet the rich still lined up with massive checks for her "perfect designer embryos."
I’d watch her lock desperate young surrogates into a soundproof room. A few minutes later, the whole floor would shake.
Strangely, when the girls stumbled back out—looking entirely drained and aged by years—they would weep and kiss my mom’s hands in gratitude.
It never made sense to me.
Until the day I saw a pitch-black mass frantically clawing just beneath a surrogate's flat stomach.
I finally knew what kind of "embryos" my mom was actually planting inside them.

Sophia and I fought over who would wear that emerald ring to change our fate.
In my first life, I claimed the emerald ring, thinking I would become a billionaire heiress.
That was until late at night, when I accidentally opened that underground iron door and he strangled me to death with a piano wire: "Your pathetic wailing isn't her at all."
Given a second chance, I backed away and let Sophia take it.
A few days later, she died in the ice cellar with her tongue severed. Right before she died, she let out a blood-curdling whimper: "A true devil is hiding behind that door!"
Waking up for the third time, we trembled in sheer terror as the ring was offered to us once again.
Just who exactly is the daughter he is looking for?

James Johnson bought me from the black market for five million.
I went from being a mercenary to his bodyguard, and also his plaything to satisfy his desires.
Countless intimate nights gradually changed the nature of our relationship.
Until he risked his life to save me during a gang shootout.
His restrained feelings finally broke free, and he proposed to me.
But today, five years later.
Right after James took control of the Johnson Family, he quickly got engaged to Julia, the daughter of the Smith Family, the biggest arms dealer.
I confronted him, only to overhear his conversation with a friend.
"I told Sophia I'd marry her just to make her give everything for me, even die for me. After all, those brothers fighting me for the inheritance are all crazy."
His friend laughed. "But she's risked her life for you for six years. That's pretty cold."
"Doesn't matter. With her background, she was never fit to be a mafia heir's wife anyway."
I stood outside the door and let out a bitter laugh.
Back in my room, I contacted Marshall Johnson.
"I promised to keep James safe until he became head of the Johnson Family. The mission's complete now. Please give me my freedom as agreed."

After my miscarriage, my psychiatrist husband offered to erase the painful memories to help me forget them.

During the three months I was dumped in a rehab facility, he took our daughter and his cousin on a European vacation.

Now that they're back, he assumes I’ll go right back to being that meticulous, perfect wife.

But I didn't.

He deliberately provokes me, thinking my coldness is just me playing hard to get.

He has no idea that the brainwashing procedure didn't just wash away my pain—it completely severed my love for him.

My name is Elena Ross, and I’m a sex addict. This is the secret I guard with medication. But right now, the blizzard has sealed the road and cut off my escape. In this narrow car, the man sitting beside me is the one forbidden fruit I absolutely cannot touch—Silas Thorne. He’s not just my boss; he’s my ex-boyfriend’s stepfather.

"What is the ultimate favoritism your partner gives you?"
On the third day after the IVF procedure, I came across this trending question on a werewolf forum.
Just as I was about to scroll past, a highly upvoted answer pierced straight through my eyes.
"I'm newly pregnant with the Alpha's cub, so I can answer this question."
"The favoritism is this: even though I’m not his official mate, he lied to the one at home—claiming she’s infertile due to health issues—just so I could conceive."
"He said: 'A human body is like a broken vessel. Only a strong she-wolf like me deserves to carry his cubs.'"
In the photo, the ruby necklace that belonged exclusively to me was hanging around her neck.
Trembling, I finished reading every word.
So this was his idea of a beautiful future—sowing his seeds in his lieutenant's bed.
So the agony of egg retrieval I endured was, in his eyes, nothing but the useless struggle of a broken vessel.
I laughed until tears fell.
Back then, I defied my father and even cut ties with my family just to marry this stray wolf.
"Ella, sooner or later, you’ll come crying back, begging for our forgiveness."
Now, it turns out I really have failed.
I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and dialed the number I’d blocked five years ago.
"In three days, I will return to the Hunters' Legion."

A horrific car crash left me paralyzed.
The doctors said I'd never walk again. With no family left, my Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas took me to their isolated farmhouse.
They cared for me, promising their treatments would help me walk again. After everything I'd been through, I thought I'd finally found safety.
Until today, when the feeling in my legs suddenly came back—but something told me not to tell them.

While I bled to death locked in a storage room, my fiancé Adrian was holding my sister's hand, comforting her.

He hung up on my final call for help, leaving only a voicemail: "If anything happens to Lena, the engagement is off."

My sister once said her birthday wish had always been for me to disappear.

That night, her wish came true early.

But my soul never left.

I watched everyone gather around her, singing happy birthday.

As she blew out the candles, I whispered in her ear:

"Enjoy it while it lasts. This will be your last birthday."

I bled to death on a cold hospital bed, my unborn child gone, all because I took a shift for my coworker.
Heaven granted me a second chance. I opened my eyes, sitting safely at my office desk. Before I could shake off the nightmare, Vanessa clicked her heels toward me.
"Claire, can you cover for me at the investor party tonight? It’s my anniversary with my boyfriend."
In my past life, I agreed, only to be locked in a private room by monsters and tortured to death. This time, I looked her in the eye. "No."
Vanessa was stunned. Because of my refusal, she missed the crucial meeting and was mercilessly fired by the director.
I thought I had escaped hell and saved her life too. But when I got home to my loving husband, I realized the true nightmare had just begun...

"You useless thing."
My husband Cassian stared at me coldly. "I thought marrying a Costa daughter would get me something, but it turns out to be nothing. And your sister, on the contrary, has become the family heir."
With that, he wrenched off our wedding ring and smashed it violently onto the ground.
"I should have chosen her in the first place, not you." Those were his final words to me.
In my previous life, I was an unrecognized illegitimate daughter of a mafia family. I obediently accepted the arranged marriage, bared my heart to my hypocritical relatives, and believed wholeheartedly in my husband's promises.
But in the end, all I got was the iron chains of the dungeon, dying with eternal regret and the unresolved truth behind my mother's tragic death. My mother and I were nothing but stepping stones in their power struggle.
Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was back three weeks after my mother's passing — at the engagement scene that decided my entire fate.
This time, I'll make every single one of them understand: they made the wrong choice!

I am a Kitsune exiled from the East. Every twenty years, I must consume a soul soaked in pure sin to grow a new tail and survive.
With only ten days left to live, I was desperate. Then I met Julian. He gently paid off my crushing debts with a smile so warm, I almost thought I’d met an angel.
Until he leaned in close. Beneath his expensive woodsy cologne, I caught the heavy, undeniable stench of fresh women's blood.
I lowered my head, hiding the sudden thrill in my eyes.
I had finally found my monster.

I was their real daughter.

The lost princess they found, brought home, and promised to protect.

But every time she cried, I was the one punished.

Every time she bled, I was the one accused.

When she disappeared, they said it was my fault. They tore my memories apart to prove it.

Fine , only if they stand where I stood, feel what I felt, will they ever know my pain.

My mother was dying, and I—the fallen heiress of the Sterling family—had no choice but to ask my husband for the $200,000 stipulated in our prenuptial agreement, less than a week after our wedding.

He transferred the money without a word.

But that night, the way he looked at me changed.

"So the Sterling family is drowning in fraud scandals. I guess greed really does run in the blood."

From that day on, Theodore never looked me in the eye again.

He started openly parading other women at social events, letting everyone mock me as a gold-digger who only married him for money.

Today is my birthday. I'm sitting in the emergency room with unbearable stomach pain.

Meanwhile, Theodore is throwing a party for his new girlfriend.

Clutching the $185 emergency room bill, I call him.

"Theodore, let's get a divorce."

"Here we go again. How much are you trying to extort from me this time?"

For the tenth time, James Smith left me behind because of a call from his female student.
But it was as if I had become a different person—I no longer doubted that there was something ambiguous between James and his student.
Even on our wedding anniversary, when he abandoned me in the remote mountains for Sophia's sake, I bore no resentment.
Eventually, James began to sense something.
"Emily, you seem different," he said.
I shook my head with a smile.
Because I had simply made a different choice from the one in my past life.

Carlisle said that he would marry me when he became the godfather.
Gritting my teeth through the pain, I dug the bullet out of my arm and bandaged the wound out of habit. By the time I finished the whole process, I was already drenched in cold sweat from the agony.
The last candidate had been secretly taken care of by me ten minutes ago.
I returned to the dessert shop and hid the ring I had spent over a month designing inside a strawberry mousse cake.
Carlisle loves the cakes I make by hand the most. Tonight, I’m going to propose to him—I can’t wait for him to marry me anymore.
"Boss, one strawberry mousse cake, please make it quick."
I looked up at the customer who had just walked in and immediately lowered my head, afraid she might recognize me.
It was my stepsister, Karina.
"We’re closed. No cakes today."
Karina pointed at the cake I had just packed. "Isn’t there one right here? I’ll take this one. I’ll pay double."
I was about to refuse when Karina’s phone rang. "Sweetheart, why aren’t you back yet? Our son is getting impatient."
Karina put the money on the counter, grabbed the cake, and walked away. I didn’t stop her.
Because I saw the person on her video call—it was my fiancé, Carlisle.

In his eyes, I had always been "understanding." Understanding enough not to fight, not to make scenes, not to ask for status.

He said we couldn't go public now, but it was for our future.

Only later did I realize that his "future" never included me.

He chose power, chose arranged marriage, chose to keep me hidden. When I finally left, he started having regrets, started saying he loved me.

But by then I understood—he wasn't regretting losing me. He panicked because I was no longer obedient, no longer his.

So I never gave him another chance. I turned and walked away.

But that was only the first step.

I chose to let the truth surface at his moment of greatest triumph, to let him taste what it feels like to lose everything.

On Halloween night, a sharp stench of chlorine and cheap booze woke me up.
I opened my eyes to a man grinning at the bedroom door.
It was my husband, David, soaking wet and showing off the liquor he’d vanished hours ago to buy.
I cursed him out, called him a liar, and demanded a divorce. He just kept that idiotic smile.
Then my phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Claire, David drowned drunk in the pool!"

On our wedding night, my husband proposed a game.
Absolute honesty. Trading secrets lethal enough to destroy us both.
He went first.
"I fucked Chloe today," he stated, tossing out his hours-old infidelity like it was nothing.
My turn.
"I killed a man." I swirled the dark red wine in my glass, keeping my voice dead flat. "I butchered my own father."
He threw his head back and laughed out loud. He was so sure it was a pathetic joke. So sure I was still his perfect, helpless prey.
He laughed too soon.
And he definitely shouldn't have swallowed the wine I just poured him.

I was Ethan Blake's perfect mistress for five years, adhering faithfully to his rules of secrecy and obedience.

I knew his coffee preferences, his pre-meeting anxieties, yet it wasn't until his arranged-marriage partner returned that I understood I was merely a replaceable 'item' in his life plan.

When my mother passed and the pressure of medical bills vanished, I realized for the first time — that contract with its monthly transfers had bought not just my time, but my very right to say 'no' to him.

And now, when I no longer need his money...

This transaction, forged in the name of bondage, will be terminated by me.

My younger sister, Freya, was preparing for her advanced training in New York the following week, so she dragged me to the dance studio to help her correct her movements. I put on my dance shoes as usual and stood in the center of the floor, ready to demonstrate a turn.

The moment my foot slipped, I didn't even have time to react.

My body hit the ground hard, and the sharp pain from the back of my head nearly made me lose consciousness. I lay on the cold floor, my throat tight, unable to even cry out for help.

When Mother rushed in, she didn't spare me a glance.

She immediately helped Freya up and took her to the hospital. I missed the critical window for treatment and died on the way to the hospital.

My husband had been traveling a lot lately. Intuition told me he was cheating.
I kept quiet. For his birthday, I gifted him AirPods—secretly linked to my backup Apple ID.
At 10:00 p.m., his "Find My" location wasn't heading to the airport. It had stopped at a decade-abandoned lumber yard.
I floored it, obsessed with catching them in bed.
But when I arrived, I only found a corpse.

Nineteen times. That's how many times Lucas promised to marry me, only to leave me standing alone because of her.
Today was supposed to be our day. But as I stood in the biting cold outside the restaurant, watching him carefully help Selena into his Maybach, the marriage application still tucked in my purse, I finally understood—that "someday" would never come.
"Let's reschedule the registration, okay?" he'd said without even looking at me.
I walked straight to HR and submitted my resignation. Then I accepted the offer from the Morinetti family—his sworn enemies.
As I boarded my flight to the West Coast, my phone exploded with messages.
"We agreed to go to City Hall today. Where are you?"
I glanced at the screen one last time, then powered it off.
"We're done."

At my bastard father's birthday party, I was drugged by my sister Emily—and worse, she planned to have her boyfriend assault me. As the substance coursed through my veins, desire began overwhelming my rational mind. But in that moment of vulnerability, my contract husband saved me. I found myself burning only for him. What started as his attempt to help me through the drug's effects became a night of raw, passionate intimacy that shattered every boundary we'd carefully constructed. In his arms, I discovered a hunger I never knew existed, and he claimed me with a possessive intensity that left us both breathless...
*
When Amelia Thompson signed that marriage contract, she never knew her husband was an FBI undercover agent.
Ethan Black approached her to investigate Viktor Group—the corrupt corporation where her late mother worked. To him, Amelia was just another lead, possibly the conspirator's daughter he was sworn to destroy.
But three months of marriage changed everything. Her warmth and fierce independence dismantled every defense around his heart—until the day she vanished.
Three years later, she returns with their child, seeking the truth about her mother's death. And he's no longer just an FBI agent, but a man desperate to win her back.
A Marriage Contract. A Life-Changing Inheritance. A Heart-Shattering Betrayal.
This time, can love survive the ultimate deception?

I sacrificed everything to save my mother—even my freedom.

The night I won the award that was supposed to fund her life-saving surgery, I walked in on my fated mate tangled in bed with my best friend.

He said I was “too boring to love.”
She whispered my mother was “better off dead.”

Broken and desperate, I made the deal I swore I never would—I sold myself to Alpha Damien Gatsby, heir to the Gatsby empire.

Cold. Ruthless. The most powerful Alpha in Faellac City.

But I didn’t expect his touch to set my blood on fire.

And I never imagined the man with the coldest heart would steal mine.

Now the mate who betrayed me wants me back.

The Pack that rejected me wants me silenced.

And the Alpha who owns me… refuses to let me go—even if it destroys us both.

I thought my husband was my salvation.
Until I overheard him in the wine cellar, laughing and joking with my "attackers" from that night.
The gang rape that destroyed me was a show he orchestrated himself.

He married me only for inheritance rights.
He humiliated me, branded me, took away my child, and made my life a living hell.
But he forgot one thing—
The ancient blood oath of the Corleone family states clearly:
If a husband betrays his marriage, everything he owns shall belong to his wife.

This time, I'm no longer the rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
This time, I write the ending.

I died the day I caught my fiancé cheating.

I had walked in on my cousin and my fiancé, completely naked in the backseat of a brand-new Porsche. It was a car bought with stolen money—embezzled from the estate of my recently deceased grandmother, Margaret.

Panic had set in the moment I discovered them. To stop me from calling the cops, he slammed his foot on the gas.

As a pool of warm blood spread beneath my head, I heard him lying to the first responders: "She’s mentally unstable. She threw herself right in front of the car."

I died exactly like that—labeled a hysterical, suicidal woman.

But just when I thought it was all over, my eyes snapped open.

The hot blood that had just blurred my vision, the shattering agony in my bones—it was all gone.

I clutched my pregnancy test results in my hand, standing outside the door of Ethan's office.

I wanted to surprise my husband with this news.

Instead, I overheard a conversation about how to "permanently remove" me from his and our daughter's lives.

When that dealer tortured me, my dad, a narcotics cop, and my mom, the city’s chief medical examiner, were busy celebrating my sister’s win in the volleyball semifinals. To get back at my dad for destroying his drug network three years earlier, that man cut my throat. Right before I died, I called my dad. Before I hung up, he said, “Cut it out. Serena’s game is what mattered most right now.”

I thought my husband was cheating, so I followed him to catch him in the act, only to witness him kill someone on our wedding anniversary.

His hands were still covered in blood when he touched my red hair and asked me what was wrong.

Was he the legendary "Red Hair Reaper"?

When the police came knocking the next day, I told them everything.

But they would never know—even the murder I "witnessed" that night was nothing but a performance staged for them from beginning to end.

My three-year-old daughter hides behind the sofa whenever I try to hold her now.

“Mommy is scary,” she whispers, clutching her stuffed bear like a shield.

I thought it was just a toddler’s overactive imagination.

Until I checked the camera feed in my own bedroom.

I watched a woman who looked exactly like me step out of the shadows of our antique mirror, slip into my husband’s bed, and kiss him.

"Did you bring one back?" My mom, Siobhan, urged.
I pushed my half-empty mug to the center of the cafe table. The campus buzzed around me, students stressing over minor things like finals.
"I’m still at school, Mom."
"The Summer Solstice is in exactly one month, Maeve." The line crackled.
"If you cross that water empty-handed, Finn is going to the pens. Are you going to let your own brother be taken?"

When they shoved me into the flames, I fought through the blinding pain to call my brother, Ethan Bennett. Fire licked at my skin, twisting my vision, but the call finally went through.

"What is it now?" He sounded distracted, like he was checking off a guest list.

"Ethan, please, help—" My voice was shattered, choked by the searing heat.

"Can't you just give it a rest for one single day?" he snapped, cutting me off. "Selina and I are getting married this weekend. If you pull another stunt, I swear I'll—"

The call died right as the flames swallowed me whole.

Agony consumed every nerve before my eyes closed for good, his unfinished threat still echoing in my ears.

But the good news is, Ethan... you don't have to swear anymore. Because I was dead.

My daughter begged me, tears in her eyes, to take her to gymnastics camp—just the two of us.

I thought it was her way of proving she loved me.

I was wrong.

In that hotel room in Toronto, I overheard my husband's voice—with another woman.

“Don't worry, Sophia will find a way to stay a few more days. I promised her that blue limited-edition leotard.”

“Her body now… after giving birth, it's ruined.”

In that moment, my world collapsed.

I thought I'd only been betrayed by my husband.
But the daughter I raised with everything I had—she was his accomplice.

The child I nurtured with my own hands kept clearing the path: so that woman could sleep in my bed, wear the lingerie I could no longer fit into, sneer in front of the mirror at every single mark my body earned from bringing life into this world.

I once believed that giving up my career would be enough to hold my family together.

But they joined hands to tell me: my sacrifice was never honored. It was a joke.

When a woman who has given everything to her family finally wakes up—

Her revenge will make every single one of them remember exactly what they did.

My daughter Lily was shot dead while she was performing on her own stage.
I rushed forward to shield her, and a speaker crashed down onto my right shoulder. The bone shattered.
My husband, Vincent, “shot the gunman dead” at once and sealed off the entire opera house.
When I woke up in the hospital room, the pain almost suffocated me. My right shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and when I tried to raise my arm, all I felt was a numb.
“…This isn’t what we agreed on.” The doctor’s voice was low and unsteady. “We only needed her blood sample for matching. Why did it have to go this far?”
“Lily’s blood type is a perfect match. This is the best possible outcome,” Vincent said. “I married Elena for this moment. I’ve been waiting for it.”
The doctor was silent for a few seconds. “But she’s your daughter… There’s no need to sacrifice a life, even if she is a Salaceno.”
Vincent cut him off. “You know how long an artificial heart can last. Camila’s daughter won’t hold out for long. I can’t put her through another surgery.”
“Camila’s child is the one I should cherish.”
At that moment, my blood ran cold. In his eyes, my daughter was nothing but an organ container.
He had no idea. All that talk about protecting his precious daughter—she wasn't even his.

They told me the baby was gone, but they didn't tell me my heart was being carved out, too.

I woke up on the operating table, paralyzed. Through my blurred vision, I saw my beloved husband, Marco, trembling with excitement as he held my medical chart.

"Her blood is perfect," he whispered. "It is a perfect match for Isabella. We can proceed with the transplant now."

"Finally. It wasn't in vain that I brought her back." My revered father let out a sigh of relief. "If it weren't for this day, how would someone who wandered outside for so many years be qualified to step into this house again?"

When my husband said "I love you," he actually meant "Your heart is perfect for the woman I truly love."

I couldn't scream; I couldn't move.

I could only watch helplessly as the silver scalpel pierced toward my chest, while my sister, Isabella, lay on the operating table next to me, smiling in her sleep.

I was never a long-lost daughter, nor was I a beloved wife.

I was just a mobile blood bank waiting to be slaughtered.