226 Book(s) Related to rwby white fang

“They begged for mercy,” he said coldly, his eyes distant. “But mercy died the day they killed her.”he snarled, his eyes cold as steel. “They killed the only woman I ever loved, and for that, you’ll suffer.”

Love died in him the day his lover was taken by a family of hunters. As the ruthless Alpha of the Bloodmoon Clan, he has spent years hunting the Crescent Hunters, the family of werewolf slayers who killed his lover. Revenge is his only purpose-until he discovers his fated mate is the daughter of those very hunters, his plan to annihilate them is turned upside down.

Will he use her to destroy her own family? Or will she be the one to melt the heart he thought he’d buried long ago? Can he kill the family that took everything from him, even if it means destroying the woman he's bound to protect?

His hand tightens around my wrists above my head. “This pretty dripping pussy of yours. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen is fucking begging me. But maybe you’re soaked and needy because of his fangs.” He slaps my pussy. Hard.

I cry. “Ahhhh! No!” I let out a whimper, then a moan.

Earlier, of fucking course yes, but now, it’s just for him. But if I come to think about Griffin’s fangs—

Aemon opens my pussy lips with his long fingers at an obscene angle. I curl my toes. Oh, Goddess, oh Goddess!

I’m so wet! “Griffin—I mean—Your brother means nothing to me.” I whimper.

But as soon as I say his brother’s name I know it is the wrong thing to say.

🥀 🥀 🥀

To vampires, blood is everything.

When it stops flowing, so do you.

Blake is human. Offered like cattle by the very pack that raised her.

But the moment her blood touches Griffin’s tongue, the Vampire Leader knows—she is his fated mate.

There is only one problem: his brother wants her too. And he’s not willing to let go.

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Do it." He let go, his sapphire eyes still fixed on me as he pulled his cock out, "and you'd better do it soon, I still have too many things to do."
I still didn't want to believe it, I wanted it all to be a stupid joke! A light punishment that wouldn't go any further...
He came towards me and left me against the wall of the carriage, the dim light coming in making those blue eyes sharper, his dick coming closer to my face.
It wouldn't fit, it was too thick.
I didn't even know how it got inside me, imagine in my mouth?
I'd suffocate.
I was going to die!


The final tranquility of humanity crumbles when a ship, crewed by bloodthirsty beasts, docks on the island. The once peaceful and paradisiacal place transforms into a true inferno. To prevent the people from being enslaved, Lianna, the eldest daughter of the village leader is offered as a tribute to the enemies. Vowing to her tribe and herself that she would kill the cursed man who invaded and seized her home. As she gets closer to the man, she discovers what appears to be an ordinary human. However, little does she know that the man transforms into a gigantic beast under the moonlight…

(DAILY UPDATING)
Adriana is the forgotten daughter of the Alpha of the Red Moon Pack. Her father barely acknowledges her, her sister despises her, and the mate she loved for five years chose power over her—by sleeping with that very sister.

But Adriana has a secret.

A rare white wolf. A power she’s been forced to hide.

When she unexpectedly crosses paths with the Lycan King, she doesn’t know he is her father’s greatest enemy… or her second-chance mate.

Elijah never planned to bond again. Betrayed once and now raising a silent son alone, he has no interest in love. But there’s something different about Adriana. Something powerful. Something his wolf refuses to ignore.

As tension between wolves and lycans rises, secrets begin to unravel and claiming her may mean starting a war.

This time, Adriana won’t be the weak daughter they overlooked.

“Nian Zhen,” a superstar known for his villainous roles, met an untimely death
when the safety wire snapped during a drama shoot!

At the very moment he thought his life was over,
a voice suddenly echoed in his mind…

Ding!!
[Contract successfully established with the Host.
Initiating transfer to the first mission world. Countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.]

He’s been kidnapped by a system and sent to a whole new world!
A world where he must play the role of a two-faced, manipulative "white lotus,"
constantly tormenting the male protagonist until he succumbs to darkness.

But every performance comes with a price.
So, you mischievous system—tell me, what’s in it for me?!

[The Host may ask for anything, including returning to your original world.
The system can even rewind time to before the Host’s death. Yay, yay, yay!]

Now that’s a deal worth discussing～
A rising star like Nian Zhen will make this performance utterly flawless!

My husband used my cottage to cheat on me. Fine. I found out, I drove three hours, and I walked into my own house to find his mistress wearing my dead grandmother's sweater.
She told me to leave.
He showed up, kissed her in front of me, then grabbed my arm and shoved me into the door frame.
That's when I had the asthma attack. He's known about my asthma for five years.
My inhaler rolled across the porch floor. His mistress picked it up, held it out, and told me to sign a statement saying I'd caused all of this. Then she'd give it back.
He looked at me on the ground and said: She's performing.
I'm sitting on the floor of my own grandmother's house, gasping, and my husband is telling the neighbors I'm acting.
Nobody thought to ask whose family manages every property on this coastline.

On the night of their third wedding anniversary, Ashley was ready to reveal a secret to her husband—
She was pregnant.

But moments after their passionate intimacy, her Alpha coldly delivered the blow—he wanted a divorce.
His fated mate had returned.

Stripped of her wolf spirit, abandoned by the pack, and carrying his child, Ashley was cast aside like a disposable Omega.
Just as she prepared to leave alone—

The boy she had once rejected had now risen as the most formidable Alpha King. The possessive hunger in his gaze sent shivers through her—did she dare face him? Was this vengeance, or something more? But did she even have a choice?

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

"I’ll keep you alive. Even if you hate me till your last breath, Aiden."

"Keep me alive? You’re dragging me straight to hell! My exams, my life, even the right to drink a damn coffee in peace，you’ve wrecked it all!"

1820, under a blood moon. Alpha King Aldrich watched his pregnant mate die, his kingdom burn. Rescued from the executioner’s block by rogue wolves, he dug his nails into the dirt and swore: every debt would be paid in blood.

The Great Red Moon Prophecy had promised him an heir，the strongest Alpha to ever walk. He’d believed it. Gambled everything. And lost.

Centuries later, in a London café, final-year nursing student Aiden chugs coffee over his finals notes. One step from his white coat, until a man named Aldrich walks in and drops a secret that makes his hands shake.

"You’re half-werewolf." The man’s voice is ice. "And you’re the one from the prophecy. The ‘strongest’."

Normalcy shatters like his coffee mug. Aiden only knows this: since the man arrived, the weirdness haven’t stopped—wolf howls outside his dorm, emotions spiking out of control, strange eyes watching him from the shadows.

He hates Aldrich. Hates the chaos, hates the weight in his eyes, hates the flicker of something unfamiliar in his own chest.

But when the first threat，claw marks, bloodstained，appears on his dorm door, when he finds his mother’s "accidental death" wasn’t an accident, Aiden has to face it.

Some fates won’t stay buried.

Shadows from 1820. Fangs hidden in modern streets. All of them are hunting the "strongest",hunting "him".

Aldrich says he won’t lose again. But as Aiden stares at the centuries-old king’s back, shielding him from the dark, he can’t help wondering—

What did he lose, all those years ago?

And why… "him"?

He Thought I'd Wait Forever. I Wore White for Someone Else.

Nora canceled the wedding venue on a Tuesday. The deposit was nonrefundable. She let it go.
Eight years she'd held that stretch of coast — the cliff, the white tent, the January date they circled and let slide every spring. She slid the ring off at the kitchen counter and dropped it in the drawer with the dead batteries and old takeout menus. It didn't feel like heartbreak. It felt like setting down something she'd carried too long.
Adrian would find out. Not tonight. He still thought her silence was a thing to be coaxed out of. He still thought she'd always be there.
She'd already decided she wouldn't. By the time he understood, she'd be on that coast in a white dress — and the man beside her wouldn't be him.

"Before we start, I put a sleeping pill in the wife's milk,No matter how loud we get tonight, she won't wake up."

The mistress whispered with a cruel smile.

Nora Hearst lay hidden beneath the bed, listening to the ragged breathing of her husband and her so-called best friend on their marital bed.

They even found her wheelchair too much of an obstacle, casually dragging her fragile body onto the freezing floor.

The man who had pursued her for four years

a man who once claimed he would die for her——was now whispering to that woman:

"Nora can't satisfy me, but you... you're wild enough."

Her hand tightened around the voice recorder hidden in her sleeve.

Memories flooded back: the car accident where she sacrificed her legs to save his life, and the precious surprise growing inside her womb that he had been so eagerly awaiting.

Kennedy Frederick , she vowed silently, in sixty-six days, I will make you kneel and listen to every second of this recording.

I will destroy you at the very moment you think your life is perfect.

I thought marrying the Alpha would finally give me a place in the pack.
I was wrong.
On the night we were bound, he rejected me. Not in private. Not with mercy. He tore the mate bond apart before the entire pack and accused me of carrying another man’s child. I was stripped of my title, cast out, and left to survive alone while pregnant with the very heir he denied.
I should have died in those woods.
Instead, I was found by something far more dangerous than an Alpha.
The Direwolf Alpha is feared by every pack. Exiled. Scarred. Ruthless. He does not follow pack law or bow to fate. When he looks at me, he does not see a weak, wolf-less woman or a burdened womb.
He sees something worth claiming.
As my body changes, so does everything I believed about myself. The wolf I was told I did not have begins to stir, and the child I carry draws whispers of prophecy and power. The pack that rejected me wants me back. The mate who humiliated me suddenly remembers my name.
But the Direwolf who claimed me has no intention of giving me up.
I was rejected while pregnant.
Now I must decide who I will become and which bond I will choose.

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.

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

While others seek survival, I engage in flirtation

This was the thirteenth time I'd tried to earn their love—and my last.
For months, I'd worked myself to exhaustion, five months pregnant, hand-sewing thousands of pearls onto what I'd hoped would become the dress of my dreams.
But moments before the ceremony, my fiancé and his family burst into the bridal suite and tore it off me. They gave it to her—the girl they'd raised, the one they'd always loved more.
They stole my wedding. They stole my groom. And when I collapsed, bleeding, they made sure the ambulance took her instead—all because she'd fainted from the drama.
Watching those sirens fade, I finally understood: I was never the daughter they wanted to save.

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 gave five years to my husband's ambition—and got betrayal in return.

Forty-three days without a break on the Imperial City project. I collapsed from exhaustion and woke up in the hospital. He never picked up the phone.

He was too busy celebrating his mistress's birthday.

The blonde hair wrapped around his jacket was like a slap to the face. I'd cut my own hair short years ago because he said long hair wasn't "professional." He just meant it wasn't professional on me.

He promised we'd move to Imperial City together once he succeeded. But he was always too busy—except when it came to touring my project sites with her.

I'd had enough.

I froze the accounts. Pulled the funding. Took back everything I'd built.

He tried to push me out of my own position, so I reclaimed the patents and withdrew my support.

He called a press conference to save face. I attended—as an executive at his largest competitor.

I watched him crumble.

For five years, I held him up. And for five years, he treated me like something disposable.

He forgot that the empire he thought he built was never his.

It was always mine.

"Sister, I'm pregnant with your husband's baby."

When the fake heiress, Chloe Mellon，slapped the pregnancy test onto my face, I finally saw the truth.

For ten years, she stole my identity, my family, and now—my husband.

They called me heartless when I refused to play the victim.

They called me cruel when I exposed their affair.

But as I walked out of that mansion, leaving the cheating CEO and his mistress behind,

I realized something:

The only thing I lost was the illusion of love.

The rest? I'll take it all back—starting with my birthright.

Goodbye, Tristan Getty. Enjoy your toxic love triangle. The real heiress is done playing.

My parents raised me for twenty-four years. Then they found out I wasn't their biological daughter.

Their real daughter came home. She'd only been back two years. That's all it took to erase twenty-four.

When kidnappers grabbed us, I used my body as a shield. They beat me until something inside me ruptured. I was dying from internal bleeding, but no one could tell.

My parents wouldn't even look at me. "This is your fault! None of this would've happened if it weren't for you!"

"Get downstairs and apologize to your sister. If you can't, pack your things and get out."

They threw her a party at a downtown hotel while I died alone in my room.

I thought they'd be relieved. Maybe even glad. I thought they'd just move on like I never existed.

But when they finally learned the truth, they fell apart.

I almost died on the operating table trying to give Alexander Volkov a child, unaware he already had a pair of illegitimate twins with his childhood sweetheart.
My heart stopped when I saw the DNA results. Alec, the man who made the New York underworld tremble, the man who flew back on a private jet just to hold my hand, was a flawless liar.
I turned my face away, tears soaking the hospital pillow. My hand drifted to my belly. God had finally decided to give me a break after five years of needles and agony—I was pregnant. But now, it felt like the cruelest joke.
He pulled me into his arms, smelling of expensive cologne and... baby formula.
"Tell me what's wrong, honey. Whoever made you unhappy, I'll make them pay."
I stared into his lying eyes and made my decision.
I would vanish with his unborn child, leaving him to rot in eternal regret.

I died—not in the way you'd expect, but slowly, painfully, while he was entangled with her.

He called her his savior, the woman who sold everything to rescue his failing empire. Little did he know, it was my money, my life's work, that he squandered.

The betrayal burned hotter than any flame, and I vowed he'd pay.

Now, he's gone—a leap from the heights he once ruled, his fall as swift as his rise.

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.

Seventy-two hours before my wedding, I stood in front of the fitting mirror at a bridal shop.

My best friend sent me a social media post, and the red exclamation mark in the message box stung my eyes sharply.

The post’s title read: Guys, my boyfriend is getting married to his current partner. What should I do?

The comment section had already erupted into chaos.
“Dude, are you out of your mind? You’re the other woman here!”
“You’re the homewrecker and you dare post this to get roasted? Where’s your shame?”

The poster was firing back furiously, every word oozing unapologetic madness:
“We’ve been inseparable since we were kids! His first love, first kiss, first time—all mine!”
“He doesn’t even like that old hag; he’s only marrying her out of obligation!”
“Who’s the real mistress, anyway?”

I should have swiped past it like a silly joke, but my gaze was locked onto the poster’s profile picture.

It showed two hands laced together. Peeking out from the man’s wrist was a dark green watch dial—a Richard Mille Valentine’s Day limited edition. It was the seven-figure engagement gift I’d bought him by selling my mother’s last precious heirloom, the only one of its kind in the world.

My heart was squeezed tight by an icy hand, plummeting to the bottom in an instant.

I tapped into the account’s homepage. The second my finger swiped open the photo album, a dizzying, world-spinning sensation crashed over me.

In the photos, the man holding the girl closely was none other than Lu Yanchen—my fiancé, who was supposed to marry me in three days.

I stared at the screen. All the wedding hopes and love I’d saved up over three years shattered into nothing but dust at this moment.

I couldn’t believe it, yet I had to. The man who’d loved me for three years and sworn to protect me forever had been lying to me from start to finish.

At the dinner party, Alexander had his arm around my waist, chatting and laughing with clients in German.
I was about to tell him the happy news that I was pregnant.
He was tender and affectionate in front of me, kissing my cheek from time to time.
But they didn't know my German was fluent enough to understand every dirty detail.
Like right now, I heard him bragging to the client about how wild things got last night with his stepsister Lillian.

On our wedding night, my wife said to me: "Lucas's family needs an heir, and I've agreed to carry one for them."
Seeing me trembling all over, she gently cupped my face and added softly: "It's just IVF—a way to repay their kindness. The entire process is medical, with no physical contact at all. Once the baby is born and the debt is settled, I'll have as many children with you as you want, okay?"
For the sake of our ten years of love and the debt of gratitude we owed, I gritted my teeth and agreed.
Until three months later, when I found her lying naked on our wedding bed, frantically making love with Lucas.

"Get out of here with your dying bastard!"
My son suddenly fell critically ill, and the only matching organ was locked in my wife's family's cold storage. I stormed into the company with my critically ill child, only to be met with a severe suspension notice.
Everyone thought I was some lowly social outcast, someone they could crush at any moment.
Until I pulled out that dusty badge, my father-in-law, who controlled a New York business empire, was so terrified that he cleared the room on the spot, his legs going weak.
"Arrange surgery for my son immediately." I looked at him coldly. "If he misses the optimal transplant window, I guarantee your entire family, and this city, will be executed for him."

On the seventh wedding anniversary, I woke up in the lounge and found a big word "BITCH" sprayed with red paint on my chest.
The culprit, holding a spray-paint can, had a naive-looking smile on her face and said, "I'm doing you a favor. Your white outfit's way too boring."
I was just about to take action when my husband rushed in to protect her, frowning and scolding me: "She's just a little girl; she doesn't know any better. Do you have to be so petty?"
At this moment, looking at the man in front of me who had risen because of my family's influence, I suddenly laughed.
He probably forgot who had given him this overwhelming wealth.
I unscrewed the red-tipped thick paint pen and walked step by step towards the trembling girl.
"Your face is boring, too. Let me do you a favor."
As for my husband?
I'll make him know that without me, he's worse than a dog.

When the apocalyptic red rain fell, my brother and I both awakened spatial abilities.

He awakened a space as vast as a mansion and was hailed by the entire family as their savior.

While I only awakened a "suitcase" and was ruthlessly drained of all my assets by my parents to support my brother, then kicked out of the house.

They mocked me cruelly: "We don't keep deadweights. Go wait for death in the 70-degree furnace outside!"

What they didn't know was that my brother's space had no preservation function—his stockpile of premium ingredients would soon rot into a pile of maggot-infested meat.

But my suitcase had upgrade attributes!

While they fought each other over a sip of putrid green water in the 200-degree hellscape,

I sat in the "Eden" I had created, watching herds of cattle and sheep, drinking ice-cold fresh milk.

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

Diana Hale has spent her whole life running, hiding and trying to learn the act of survival. She is always bullied at college and lives a secret life as a live-in maid in a powerful household.

Until he arrives; Calum Blackwood.

The new professor in her school, also the employer who she works in his house without knowing who he is. He's an Alpha, holding the power to either destroy or protect her. When he spots her, everything changes.

What happens when a classmate who is obsessed with Calum does everything to ruin, humiliate and destroy Diana?

In a world where dangers, betrayals, secrets and ruthless enemies threaten to rip her apart, would she survive?

Would Calum Blackwood choose to protect or destroy her?

"Who would want a woman like Hazel?"
On the night before our wedding, my fiancé Randy said this in front of everyone.
I stood outside, listening silently before walking away.
Sure enough, at the wedding, he abandoned me to save my sister who was jumping from a building.
"The wedding continues!"
I said with a smile, turning to embrace my disabled husband.
Afterward, I did exactly as they wished, ensuring they would never be apart.
Half a month later, I looked at my ex-fiancé with contempt.
"Compared to my husband, are you even worth mentioning?"

Three years. He worshipped me by day and bedded her by night.
I saw everything. I felt everything—she made sure of that.
So on the night of his coronation, I severed our bond and walked away.
He bled. He knelt. He begged.
Too late.
When I wore white again, it wasn't for him.

In a suburban election season lit by police strobes and viral outrage, assistant district attorney Karen Hale is cast as the perfect villain when a little girl is found dead beside a swing set. As edited videos, staged grief, and buried secrets close in, Karen uncovers a chilling web of paternity, manipulation, and murder—where playgrounds, rain-slick streets, surveillance logs, and a child’s empty swing become the battleground of a dark domestic thriller.

In my past life, I replaced my runaway sister Beatrice and was forced to marry mob enforcer Rowan Sinclair.
She thought he was poor with no future, so she ran. My parents didn't even tell me before sending me in her place.
Rowan knew the truth. He carried it like shame, never truly seeing me—only cold stares and silent contempt. I spent years beside him like an unwanted ghost, carefully managing his world while he rose from despised smuggler to feared godfather.
Then his attitude began to change.
Just when I thought we might have a real future, Beatrice returned with tears and lies, claiming I'd stolen her place. Rowan believed her. My parents betrayed me. Everyone chose her.
When a rival family captured us both, guns to our heads, only one could survive.
Rowan pulled Beatrice into his arms and abandoned me without a glance.
They tortured me for three days. The baby in my womb died first. Its father never knew it existed.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that afternoon before it all began.

In a secluded modern villa, painter Iris Vale begins to suspect the pills hidden in her meals are stealing more than her sleep. As fragments of a buried night resurface—bleached kitchens, a locked basement, shattered glass on a staircase, and the shadow of her dead sister Nora—family protection curdles into psychological captivity. Dark, tense, and intimate, this is a memory-thriller of guilt, control, and the terror of facing what was done in the name of love.

In a decaying city apartment building, law-clerk Maya Carter is drawn to the sealed door of 5B—an address that should not exist, yet keeps receiving late-night deliveries and whispering back from the dark. Behind the rumors of a haunted unit lies a battered woman in hiding, and a chilling hunt led by men who weaponize authority, gaslight women living alone, and turn silence into a trap. Tense, claustrophobic, and razor-sharp, the story moves through dim hallways, yellow light under a door, bruised wrists, broken locks, and the fierce urgency of survival.

"I want to break off this engagement!" I stormed into his office, slamming the letter on his desk, my heart pounding with fury after being humiliated by his family's staff. Little did I know, the devastatingly handsome man staring back at me wasn't my fiancé at all—he was his uncle, Rex Sterling, who'd lied about being my betrothed to win me over.

What started as a forced arrangement exploded into a whirlwind of passion: lavish gifts, stolen kisses, and a secret wedding that made me Mrs. Sterling. But when the truth shattered our fairy tale at a family gathering—complete with a punch-throwing nephew and scandalized elite—I had to confront the beautiful lie that built our love.

After being reborn, the first thing my sister and I did was swap our grooms.
In our past life, my gentle sister Elara married Felix Hawthorne, the mafia godfather of Marconi City. Surrounded by a domineering sister-in-law and a scheming, manipulative other woman, she was slowly driven into a corner and died of a broken heart.
Meanwhile, I married the polite, illegitimate son of the Graves family. He was a perfect gentleman, but he just didn't love me. Our marriage lasted three years, and we were separated for two and a half of them.
Then one day, Elara and I woke up at the exact same moment—we had been reborn, back to the very morning we were supposed to sign our marriage agreements...

My six-year-old daughter Emily blurted, "I'm getting a new mommy!" while my son Jacob smirked.

"Oh my God, Nate—your sister? Pregnant with your kid? You sick bastard!" I screamed across the restaurant, my voice cracking like thunder as heads snapped around.

For eight years, I'd slaved like a nanny in our home—cooking, cleaning, raising Jacob and Emily—while he dismissed me as worthless. My own kids sneered, calling me lazy and saying I'd never measure up to their Aunt Chloe. Even his venomous mother Barbara spat insults, grinding me under her heel like dirt. Betrayed by them all, I finally snapped.

Little did they know, my mom's $100 million inheritance unlocked the second I divorced that cheat. From doormat wife to billionaire, I rose—exposing their lies, reclaiming my life.

Game over, asshole. Time to watch you beg.

I tricked my billionaire husband into signing divorce papers—he had no idea.

"Exam documents," I lied.

His ex-wife laughed. "Boring paperwork. Don't bother reading it."

He signed without even looking.

Three years of marriage. I thought he'd learn to love me. Ever since she came back, my dinners grew cold while I reheated them alone. I waited in our bed, night after night. I watched him drop everything and run to her with every phone call.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

That same day, I saw him at the hospital—holding her hand, asking about her baby.

I finally stopped waiting.

I left the estate at dawn. Left behind the jewelry, the designer clothes, the empty promises.

Then he showed up at my door.

"I know about the baby," his voice was raw. "I know about the accident. I know everything."

He looked at me like I was his entire world.

Three years too late? Or just in time?

Everyone says I’m crazy.
My husband, Adrien, is Ashmont College’s most esteemed professor—suave, composed, and highly logical. I, on the other hand, am an investigative journalist whose nerves are fried by looming deadlines and too much caffeine. Yet, I insist there’s a woman who shares my exact face, who crawls out of our bedroom mirror every night and slips into my husband’s bed.
Our security cameras always "happen" to glitch at the crucial moments. My son avoids me like I’m a monster, and my neighbors claim they cheerfully greeted "me" in the driveway a few days ago—even though I don't even own a vintage pink dress.
Adrien has started dropping phrases like "psych evaluation" and "sole custody." If I let this drag on any longer, he’s going to personally commit me to a psych ward.
So tonight, I lied about flying to Chicago. Instead, I’m hiding in my own study—waiting for that identical face to crawl out of the mirror one more time.

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

That night, I was dragged into a parking lot and beaten until my hands could never hold a scalpel again.

I thought it was random. Until I heard my own brother and fiancé talking—

"Those thugs went too far, but the result works out, doesn't it? This time, the award will go to Charlotte."

Charlotte. The "poor orphan" my family adopted.

For twelve years, she stole my papers, my opportunities, my glory. And the two men I trusted most handed her everything on a silver platter.

They called me spoiled. Selfish. Difficult.

They even believed I started the fire that killed our parents twelve years ago.

But here's the truth: Charlotte started that fire. I was the one who dragged them out.

They thanked the wrong sister. For twelve years.

Now they want me dead.

Fine. Let Penelope Ashworth die.

I died on the day I was supposed to marry Grayson.
Because my sister Delilah had her heart "broken," my family decided to bring her to our farm in Ashwood to heal through horseback riding. The wedding was postponed.
I lay in the stable at the Clarke family farm, dialing my mother's number with blood-covered fingers.
All she said was: "What kind of game are you playing now? You think if you act pitiful we'll come running? Vivienne, enough!"
My fiancé Grayson was even more brutal: "It's just a postponement, not a cancellation. If you can't handle that, then let's just call the whole thing off—I'll marry Delilah instead."
This was the last time they would disappoint me.
And the last time I would call for help.
I lay in my own pool of blood, already without breath. They thought I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding somewhere to sulk. They thought if they ignored me long enough, I'd come crawling back to apologize.
But they didn't know.
I was already dead.