303 Book(s) Related to angelos jupiter

For seven years, to support my wife’s dream of building a perfume empire, I hid my identity as the heir to a trillion-dollar conglomerate and stayed in the basement, crafting the core base notes for her in silence.

But on the day she finally rose to fame, she hung my mother’s heirloom around her young lover’s neck and looked at me with naked disgust as she forced me out with nothing.
“A useless piece of trash that reeks of poverty like you would only drag down the class of my brand.”

I didn’t beg.
I signed the papers without hesitation, then cut off the only supply of raw essence that had been suppressing the toxicity in her perfumes.

In just one week, her new product triggered a catastrophic disfigurement scandal, and her billion-dollar empire came crashing down.

When she was ruined, covered in mud, and kneeling outside the gates of my estate, crying tears of blood and begging for mercy,
I simply held my perfectly matched new wife in my arms and watched coldly as security dragged her away like garbage.

“Clean it up. Don’t let her stain my ground.”

Seven days before the apocalypse, my vampire parents forced me to hand over three million to buy a house for my baby brother in full.

As an actuary, I knew that order would collapse in seven days and the money would become worthless. So I not only readily agreed, but also used their family's records as collateral to raise millions in high-interest loans, building an impregnable, top-secret fortress.

Seven days later, an unexpected change occurred.

The debt-collecting gangs and the endless horde of zombies drove them to the brink of despair. Meanwhile, I sat in a temperature-controlled safe house, sipping freshly ground coffee, calmly watching the cannibalistic karmic retribution unfold on the security camera.

In the apocalypse, there is no family affection, only the probability of survival.

In my past life, I gave away all my resources to protect them, only to have my girlfriend and best friend lock the security door themselves, leaving me to be devoured alive by zombies in despair.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back three days before the apocalypse.
I maxed out my credit cards, frantically stockpiled hundreds of tons of supplies, and built an indestructible steel fortress! When the bloody apocalypse arrived as scheduled, those traitors were frantically torn apart by monsters outside the door, crying and banging on the door for help.
I sat in front of the monitor, took a sip of hot coffee, and calmly pulled down the last steel gate.
"In this life, you don't even deserve to be dogs."

For my fiancée’s career, I was willing to be the ghost designer behind her for five years.

Until the day of the key bid, she stole the blueprint I had spent two sleepless years perfecting and signed it with the name of her useless first love.

The drawings are gone You can draw them again He needs this project to survive Be sensible she said, impatient when I confronted her

I did not argue My heart went cold I calmly left my engagement ring and my resignation letter and went to Europe

In just three months, without me, she became disgraced and buried in debt While I won Europe’s highest architectural gold award

I watched the once proud her soak in icy water for five hours just to earn a trace of my sympathy

I handed her a basic junior interview form with indifference Want to start over Report to the front desk Start with errands and work your way up

To win a smile from my icy wife, I stood for four hours in a London blizzard, only to be greeted by her returning hand-in-hand with her childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from abroad.

For three years of marriage, I had concealed all my sharp edges, solely to warm her heart.
Until company secrets were leaked, and she unquestioningly believed her childhood sweetheart's framing, locking me, who suffered from severe claustrophobia, in a dark, abandoned wine cellar for a full forty-eight hours.

Watching her arrogantly slam the "Clean Break Agreement" onto my bleeding face, I smiled.
The moment I signed my name, the humble Arthur who loved her died utterly in the abyss.

That night, my yacht ran aground and exploded.
And the first heir of the Vance conglomerate, missing for three years, officially took control of the global technology lifeline.

Six months later, betrayed and facing bankruptcy, she clung to my trousers like a dead dog on the red carpet of a top-tier banquet, weeping and begging me to start over.
I was arm in arm with a true socialite, and I didn't even lift an eyelid as I looked at the woman covered in mud on the floor:
"Security, throw this crazy woman who's dirtied the carpet away. Don't spoil my fun."

In my last life, I shoved my wife Sarah out of the path of an oncoming car and ended up critically injured myself.
My mother-in-law, determined to get her hands on my savings, secretly switched my medication with cheap knockoffs and left me permanently infertile.
Then she showed up at my office and made a huge scene, pressuring me to quit my job and become a full-time househusband.
As for her and Sarah? They had the nerve to move in some so-called lover who could "carry on the family line," then used my hard-earned money to support him under my own roof.
When the apocalypse hit, they locked me in a room and fed me to that infected homewrecker.
Now that I've been given a second chance, I look at the three parasites standing in front of me—mocking me, acting self-righteous...
I feel no anger. Only amusement.
Fourteen days until the zombie outbreak, and they're still dreaming about how to bleed me dry.
This time, I'm taking back every cent they stole from me—with interest.
And when the end finally comes, I'll be sitting inside my impenetrable safe house, watching with ice in my veins as they turn on each other in despair.

I took the blame for my wife and went to jail, thinking I was protecting our family.

Five years later, when I was released from prison, my mansion was confiscated, my company fell into the hands of my younger brother, and the woman I loved with all my heart was nestled in my brother's arms, mocking my misfortune.

They had been having an affair for a long time, and even my imprisonment was a conspiracy meticulously planned by this despicable couple! What makes me even more furious is that my precious daughter was abandoned on the street like a stray dog, and subjected to beatings and bullying by their illegitimate son .

They thought that by draining my blood, they could forever condemn me to oblivion.

But they forgot that I was once an unparalleled genius in the business world.

In my previous life, the apocalypse struck. I entrusted my last hope of survival to my best friend of twenty years, but the moment the zombies swarmed, he unhesitatingly pushed me into the horde to be his shield. My girlfriend of three years, standing high above, watched coldly, her face filled with relief at shedding a burden.

In the excruciating pain of being bitten to death, I was reborn 72 hours before the apocalypse.

Looking at the messages from that despicable couple on my phone, I calmly blocked and deleted them, then cashed out all my assets, hoarding three million US dollars worth of top-tier weaponry and massive amounts of supplies. The apocalypse

arrived as expected. When my scheming girlfriend and betrayed brother were chased like dogs by zombies, kneeling before my fortress, frantically begging for mercy,

I sat atop a mountain of supplies, holding an infinitely replicating spatial ring, a gun pressed against his kneecap, and sneered: "Want to live? Never in this lifetime."

In this life, I will not be a saint; I will be the sole king of this post-apocalyptic wasteland.

Just as my business partner called to gloat, the loan shark's hitmen were frantically hacking at my security door.

"Arthur, I've been reborn too. I embezzled that ten million in company funds to build a doomsday bunker. Enjoy taking the knife for me!"

Listening to the voice through the receiver, I simply smashed the window and vaulted from the second floor, not wasting even half a second on his bullshit.

Building a private shelter with ten million in dirty money? He had absolutely no idea just how terrifying the monsters that would rip apart the earth's crust in thirty days truly were.

Dragging my bleeding arm, I charged into an underground internet cafe and forcibly hacked into the highest early warning system of the Overseas Defense Agency.

Half a year later, the Abyss descended. His proud bunker was crushed like papier-mâché during the very first beast tide. As he scrambled for his life through the mud like a pathetic bug, he looked up—only to see a national-level steel fortress stretching for thousands of kilometers across the horizon.

And there I was, clad in a black-and-gold Supreme Commander uniform, looking down at him from hundreds of meters above.

In my past life, I squandered all my wealth to support my fiancée's family, but when the extreme heat of the apocalypse arrived, she and her lover broke my legs, brutally drained my marrow, and devoured me alive.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the seven days before the apocalypse.

This time, I will never repeat the same mistake.

I decisively kicked away these cold-blooded parasites, canceled all my credit cards, and, with the true love who died to save me in my past life, built an indestructible, top-tier temperature-controlled fortress.

As global temperatures soared, Los Angeles became a scorching inferno, and the fiancée's family couldn't even get a sip of dirty water, ultimately being forced to resort to cannibalism and killing each other.

And I, sitting in a 22-degree air-conditioned room eating chilled watermelon, coldly watch this bloody live broadcast of dogs fighting each other.

The fires of hell have been lit, and your judgment has only just begun.

To save my girlfriend, I crippled my right leg, reducing myself to the lowest scum in the shelter for anyone to trample on.

In return, I watched her nestle in the leader’s arms, using perfume in disgust to mask her nausea at my festering wound. To prove her loyalty to her new lover, she coldly looked down at me and pressed the release switch, plunging my broken body into a waste pit dozens of meters deep.

Waiting below were thousands of pale, starving skeletal claws.

They thought they had simply discarded an eyesore, free to continue their comfortable lives up in the high tower. Little did they know, the Dark-Gold tier virus dormant within my ruined leg finally awakened, triggered by the scent of fresh blood.

When the endless zombie horde fell to their knees at my feet, letting out whimpers of absolute submission, I knew—it was time for me to rewrite the rules of survival in this wasteland.

To protect my fallen comrade's orphaned daughter, I sealed away my identity as the God of War and endured three years as the worthless, trampled live-in son-in-law of an overseas billionaire family.

Managers forced me to haul the heaviest cargo, while relatives mocked me as a freeloading dog.

My high-and-mighty fiancée despised me most of all. At the Global Tech Summit, she publicly threw an annulment agreement in my face, forcing me into a cheap waiter's uniform to serve drinks to her new billionaire lover.

Everyone waited for me to break down and beg, eagerly anticipating the ultimate joke.

But I simply picked up the pen with absolute calm, signed my name, and turned away.

They thought this was my absolute ruin, my final descent into the gutter. Little did they know, this annulment paper completely shattered the final shackle that forced me to show mercy to this world.

When the alarm blared, signaling that my comrade's daughter had been dragged onto an illegal laboratory table, I pressed the old military dog tag on my chest, untouched for three years.

"God of War Protocol, terminate hibernation."

In that instant, low-orbit armed satellites shifted their trajectories. A stealth fleet blockaded international waters. Trillions in offshore funds were unfrozen in a flash.

Those arrogant elites who believed they controlled everything had no idea. Now that the disguise of a worthless loser was cast aside, they were about to face the apocalyptic fury of the Supreme Commander of the Abyss.

In my last life, I risked everything to protect my fiancée, only for her to shove me into a horde of zombies with nothing but, "You owed David this."
When I got a second chance, I found myself back right before the rescue chopper took off at the start of the apocalypse.
As I watched her cling to the cabin door, refusing to leave because she was waiting for her ex, I stepped back without hesitation: respect, best wishes, stay together forever. This time, I'm done being the pathetic simp who gets played for a fool.
I snatched the top-tier crystal core first, awakened an apocalyptic-level power, and watched with a cold smile as the cheating couple turned on each other in the middle of a pile of corpses, stabbing and screaming in despair. When the end of the world comes, you deal with the bleeding hearts first—then you rise to godhood.

Two hours before the apocalypse, my fiancée stole my gray wolf and giant bear and gave them to a rich second-generation, leaving me only a dying ornamental fish.
"Go and wait to die in the apocalypse with your worthless fish!" she laughed triumphantly, thinking she had seized an invincible trump card.
I almost burst out laughing on the spot.
In their past lives, they died too young and had no idea that without absolute power, mutated beasts would only tear their masters apart first! They also didn't know that the golden dragonfish she had discarded as trash was the true ruler of the late apocalypse!
As the crimson rain of radiation fell, I coldly fed the "Sea God" that had begun to emit an eerie glow. Since you're all eager to pave the way with your lives, then I'll gladly accept the ultimate evolutionary law of the apocalypse!

On Christmas Eve, a mysterious virus swept the globe, and my own father mutated into a bloodthirsty monster right before my eyes.

Retreating to a Texas ranch, I thought it would be a desperate fight for survival—until a monster tore my arm open during a brutal melee. There was no high fever, no mutation. Instead, the moment those frenzied infected caught the scent of my blood, they trembled and backed away, as if encountering their natural predator.

Before I could even catch my breath, an armored convoy bearing a cryptic insignia surrounded the ranch, using sonic weapons to herd the infected horde.

From a distance, a red laser locked precisely between my eyes. The memories forcibly erased during my military service two years ago came crashing back: this apocalypse was never a natural disaster, and I was the "perfect specimen" they were absolutely determined to claim.

Want to turn me into a lab rat? Then let's see how many of you this modified body can drag down to hell with me!

Extreme cold descended suddenly, with temperatures approaching minus eighty degrees Celsius.

My girlfriend tricked me into leaving the temperature-controlled fortress I had built with all my savings. She took her whole family and her lover and took over the place, leaving me, a cripple, to be left to die in a blizzard.

They sat around my fireplace eating top-grade Wagyu beef, declaring they would watch me freeze into an ice sculpture.

But what they didn't know was that, locked out, I turned around and dialed the number of the most brutal outlaw in the apocalypse.

I don't want the billion-dollar supplies and the houses; all I want is for their whole family to be trapped in this inescapable, icy hell, unable to live or die.

Six months into the apocalypse, I risked my life to pamper my girlfriend like a princess, only to be betrayed by her and the camp leader .
My legs were broken, and I was thrown over the wall to be eaten by dogs ; hundreds of civilians I had once protected turned on me .
On the verge of death, I unexpectedly rescued a mysterious prodigy, instantly binding myself to an endless space and granting me divine healing abilities . My severed limbs regenerated instantly, and I had access to countless top-tier resources .
Returning to the camp fully healed, I stomped on the leader's knee and kicked my scheming ex-girlfriend into a horde of zombies .
In this damn apocalypse, from this day forward, I am the one and only new king .

At my ex-wife's century wedding engagement banquet, she pointed at my nose and humiliated me publicly: "A waste of space who lays bricks, get out!"
Her wealthy new lover pressed my face hard into broken glass and forcibly dragged away my desperately crying five-year-old daughter.
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, drew the "Ghost Mark," and dialed the Pentagon hotline that had been dormant for five years.
Three seconds later, twelve Black Hawk helicopters shattered the dome, and a special task force descended from the sky. A two-star general, amid the terrified gazes of the assembled elite, saluted me with a thunderous: "Ghost Commander, troops have arrived as ordered!"
My ex-wife, who had been so arrogant just moments ago, instantly collapsed to the ground.

The last heir of the Bloodfang Pack, bound by a cursed seal, infiltrated enemy territory.
The Luna of the Moonshadow Pack, haughty and ice-cold, yet lost her heart to him on that snowy night.
She used four years of ruthless torment to mask her own surrender.
But when he finally walked away, she was left drowning in regret.

In my past life, I kindly took in my girlfriend and brother, only to be pushed into a torrent of acid rain and melted alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the apocalypse, only to find that my girlfriend had also been reborn! She was secretly plotting on the balcony to drain my assets to build her and her best male friend's post-apocalyptic love nest? I scoffed, decisively sold all my possessions, and bought a private island in the Pacific to build a top-tier fortress. When the mutated red rain descended and zombies swept the globe, I sipped iced whiskey in a temperature-controlled greenhouse, quietly watching that despicable couple starve and die in their Los Angeles penthouse, tearing each other apart like wild dogs for survival…

Five years ago, my fiancée and a chaebol heir broke my ribs and threw me into the sewer like trash.

Five years later, they implanted a neurotoxin bomb into the back of my sister's neck, forcing me on all fours to crawl between the security guards' legs into their engagement banquet at a Manhattan penthouse hotel.

My ex-fiancée poured champagne over my wounds, while the chaebol heir ground caviar into the muddy water with his leather shoes, forcing me to lick it clean like a dog.

The room full of Wall Street elites laughed at my humiliation, thinking I was still the same bottom-tier temp worker from back then.

They had no idea that through my micro-earpiece, a heavy armored division was already on standby under the cover of night.

When the confirmation came that the bomb had been defused, I slowly stood up straight.

Outside the window, engines roared. Ten heavy Black Hawk helicopters tore through the curtain of rain, their heavy machine guns instantly shattering the banquet hall's reinforced glass.

Looking down at the chaebol heir who was now slumped in the muddy water, I drew my sidearm: "The debt from five years ago—today, I'm collecting it with your family's lives."

I was once the "Abyss Sovereign" who made the entire dark world tremble.

To protect her, I willingly buried my true name and spent five years as a humble mechanic in a wealthy family.

I swallowed countless cold stares and humiliations, seeking only a moment of peace.

But these fools, for the sake of family interests, dared to push her to the brink of destruction!

Since retreat only invites further aggression, I have no choice but to don once more that blood-stained crown.

When my steel torrent crashed through the manor gates, those privileged elites who once trampled me underfoot could only tremble desperately in the mud!

To annul the engagement, the aloof heiress of a wealthy family spent three years planning thirteen accidents to try and kill me.
Car accident, falling object, poisoning... I survived covered in blood, only to be met with her disgusted question: "How come you're still alive?"
She let her scheming childhood sweetheart crush my father's ashes, and even personally drained my last remaining blood to save me, all for her sweetheart's self-inflicted injury.
She thought I would be like a dog, clinging to her side forever without any boundaries.
Until that day, I calmly handed over the annulment agreement, clutching the diagnosis of late-stage brain cancer, and completely disappeared from her world.
Later, when she finally found out the truth, she searched the world frantically, only to find my emaciated, cold corpse.
That arrogant and haughty young lady has completely collapsed.
She personally sent her childhood sweetheart to hell, knelt before my body wearing a veil, and desperately raised a gun:
“Ivan, walk slowly on your way to the underworld... I’m giving my life for you.”

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

Emma is the unfavoured adopted daughter of the Quinsley family. She was just a pitiful little girl who had to live under someone else's roof.

And Archie, son of the richest man in the country, tall, handsome, cold and evil.

Initially, There was no way that their fates would have crossed. However, due to a coincidence, Emma had become Archie's wife.

Emma had initially thought that she was only being used by him, but he would actually be a wife-doting man!

Whoever dared to bully her would be annihilated by him! He was highly overbearing outside, yet he was more like a hungry wolf in bed.

She couldn't bear it any longer and wanted to escape, but he blocked her. He lovingly asked, "Wife, you're already pregnant with my child. Where do you think you could escape to?"

He rejected me at the altar and called it mercy.
He lied.
Alpha Roland discarded me like I hadn't bled for his pack for three years. But he made one mistake. He didn't know what I was carrying when he exiled me.
Now I'm inside the territory of Kael, the Cursed King, a monster every pack fears. He says he wants my power. I think he wants something else entirely.
Roland wants me dead. Kael wants me caged. And my secret? It could destroy them both.

Trigger Warning!! This book is very dark, containing torture and abuse, read at your own risk!!
"Take off your clothes Brie! You can't run from me! I'll always catch you, little mouse." His menacing voice rang out.
I was already caged between him and the wall, there was nowhere left to run.
He caught my wrists in a strong grip, until I cried out from the pain.
"Please I'm not ready! I need some more time" I sobbed, my whole body shaking badly,I was willing to do anything to reach out to whatever little humanity he has left.
His eyes were cold. Merciless.
He was going to hurt me, I knew it.
"But you were ready to run away with that bastard, weren't you? " The smirk on his face as he taunted me betrayed the icy rage that simmered in his eyes.
"You belong to me, Brie! I'm your husband! And I won't be denied of my rights, Refuse me again, I dare you to Brie!" He hissed, his grey eyes simmering with hot fury.

What happens when Gabriella Thorne gets forced into an arranged marriage with Lucian Castiel.
He is Cold. Brutal. He gets anything he wants.
What happens when he's determined to TAINT Gabrielle's innocence with his darkness.
Is there a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel, or would she be forever tainted by his Psychotic Obsession?

Elizabeth is a wolfless mute slave. After her mother was brutally killed to protect her from rape, her father was murdered by the Alpha of the black river pack.
Elizabeth endured endless bullying in the black river pack for revenge. She vowed to kill the Alpha's families and leave with her beloved boyfriend when she turned 18.
However, fate played a joke on her.
Elizabeth discovered that her boyfriend had cheated on her long ago, and her fated mates were Alpha's twin sons!
She declared to reject them as her mates, but the moon goddess had more incredible arrangements waiting for her.
One day she will find out that her mates are not only twins, but also the Alpha of Giant Wolf who is 16 feet tall, the prince of Winged Wolf who lives in a cloud castle, the Beta of Fire Wolf who is covered with Untouchable heat, and even the vampire king who is the enemy of all werewolves and the Merman who lives under the deep sea...
Why does she have 9 mates? What should she do when all her mates are jealous and desperate to possess her?


I was kneeling on all fours inside the cage, with a heavy chain tied around my neck.
Countless werewolves wearing masks sat in the circular stands, pointing at me, the cheapest auction item.
"Look at her huge belly. She's pregnant. Non-virgins aren't worth much!"
"Minimum 50 gold coins. If she has a baby girl, you will have two sex slaves then. "
I couldn't believe that I, Elizabeth, the most cherished daughter of Blue moon pack's Alpha, would be reduced to being auctioned off as the lowest-priced sex slave in an underground trading market.
"10 million gold coins, we want her!" 9 handsome men claimed.

"You are mine Gracie... your fears, tears... I'm going to completely shatter you until you know nothing else but my name

"I... I'm not yours "I stuttered

His gaze grew noticeably darker at my words

"I dare you to say that again," he said taking a threatening step closer.

I opened my mouth but no words came out, next thing I was flattened between him and the wall

My body shuddered at his domineering look

"you belong to me... Your body... Your soul... I'll enjoy marking you again.... and again" he whispered, his teeth grazing lightly on my neck

How did I get to this situation, was there no way out?

He'd already broke me... Took my virginity... What else does he want from me?

Graciela Evans was just an average nerd struggling through high school, her only wish was to get a good life what happens when she becomes the target of their school's infamous bad boy...

Hayden Mcandrew

She owes him a debt, and he was going to make her repay it

Not even a cent less.

"I will fuck you whenever and however I want! Say you want this!" He hissed.
A pleasure moan escaped her throat.
"Yes sir, I__I want this." She panted breathlessly.
He hesitated for the briefest moment.
"What is my name, Faith?"
She didn't delay in answering. "S_sterling Hunter"
These were the very words that sealed her fate.
A story in which a Billionaire became obsessed with his secretary, there were no rules in the game of lust and desire, he would stop at nothing to make her his.
Lies and manipulation was all Faith Jameson ever got from the men she dated. She thought she could trust her boss, little did she know that she had been a tool in his hands all along, she was no more than a pawn in his deceptive games.
Would it be too late escape from the webs he had built? Or would she play the game of chess he started?

"If you leave, you won’t survive a day without me. You need me," he said, gripping my hands tightly.

"Before you, I was surviving, and my life was a hell of a lot better than it is now," I snapped, yanking free. I knew he was right, but I walked away anyway, leaving him behind. Let the worst happen now.

Amelia thought her life was already a mess—working two jobs to scrape by, hacking, stripping, and juggling part-time college classes, all while desperately saving for her mother’s medical bills. But things spiraled out of control when she crossed paths with Kai Alessandro, one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in the world.

After scamming Kai out of $5,000, she found herself cornered into a deal she couldn’t refuse—working for him as his hacker to pay off her debt. The fiery clash between their worlds quickly became a storm of hatred, tension, and undeniable attraction.

What happens when romantic feelings begin to intertwine with their shared hatred? And when Amelia discovers that Kai’s dark past is far more darker than she could have ever imagined, she realizes they were never meant to cross paths because of what was bound to happen, still, she found herself stuck with him and unable to leave. Kai also found himself in a position where he is unable to let her go despite knowing that her live was at threat by merely being with him.

Angelina is betrayed by her fiancé and her stepsister who was born without a wolf. They not only killed her father, but planned to drain Angelina's bone marrow and blood so that her stepsister could steal her wolf through witchcraft. After all these, Angelina was thrown into a garbage dump to die. Unexpectedly, a handsome man in royal regalia saved her and called her, "Mate."

On his deathbed, my husband Marcus confessed he'd swapped our baby with his mistress Chloe's seventeen years ago. Staring at his tearful, repentant face, I barely held back a laugh—I'd uncovered this secret sixteen years prior. I'd quietly swapped my real daughter back, sending his bastard to her cruel biological mother. Seventeen years of patience wasn't weakness, but waiting for the perfect moment. Now he's dying, Chloe's panicking, and my half-lifetime revenge? It's only just starting…

That December night, his first love and I were both rushed to the ER.
Two pregnant women. One operating room.
My doctor husband took three seconds to decide.
"She's an athlete. She can handle it," he told the nurse, then wheeled Sienna into surgery.
Leaving me—eight months pregnant with his baby—bleeding alone in the hallway.
When the nurse called begging him to come back, he said: "I'm at the pharmacy getting supplies for Sienna. Twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes later, I'm still alive.
He wishes I wasn't.

After being reborn, my cousin and I swapped mates.
Last life, she married Kaelen Thornfield — the coldest Alpha in the West. Fifty years together and he never marked her. Not once. His childhood "friend," an Omega with a PhD in crying on command, made sure of that. My cousin faded into nothing. Unmarked. Unloved. Invisible.
Me? I married a man who couldn't stand the sound of my voice. Eleven months. Done.
This time, I took the western contract. Drove three days across the country in a beat-up truck, blew a radiator in the middle of nowhere, and rolled into his pack's territory covered in engine grease and smelling like a gas station.
His little Omega took one look at me and wrinkled her nose.
She has no idea what's coming.
I don't do tears. I don't do subtle. And when some girl sobbed at my mating ceremony about how jealous she was of me — I grabbed my Alpha by the collar and sank my teeth into his neck.
In front of the entire pack.
Without asking.

The day college decisions came out, my parents bought my twin sister a Porsche.
It was my eighteenth birthday too. Nobody brought it up. I stood in the doorway in my diner uniform while the whole room sang her name.
That night the four of them went out to dinner to celebrate her. The car only sat four, so my father handed me a hundred dollars and told me to order myself something at home.
Four days later, six thousand four hundred dollars vanished from my account. Two years of washing dishes, gone to her sorority dues. My mother's name was on the account, so it wasn't even illegal.
I didn't scream and I didn't beg. I went upstairs and clicked Accept on the full ride to MIT that had been sitting in my inbox for three days.
Nobody in that house ever wanted me. So I booked a one-way ticket, cut myself out of the family photo, and left my key on the shoe rack.
I wasn't coming back. Not for graduation. Not for any of them.

I was kidnapped at five. Found at sixteen. Dead at nineteen.
My father is the Alpha of Duskmere. My mother is the best healer in the pack. The night I was murdered, they were at my adopted sister's awakening ceremony—the miracle they'd prayed for. After a lifetime born wolfless, a wolf finally woke in her chest.
That wolf was mine. Torn out of me while I was still breathing.
For three years I lived under their roof with no pack bond and no one saying my name. They slapped me for things she did. They called me selfish for refusing to give her a kidney I'd already lost. And when I went missing, nobody looked. Dad said if I died out there, I had no one to blame but myself.
Then the enforcers found a body with no pack scent, and called in the Alpha and his Luna to examine it.
They stood right over me.
They still don't know.

Presley Duval had a nickname for me all through high school. Two-Twenty.
Because at sixteen I weighed 220 pounds.
Thirteen years later she rented out a private beach in Cabo for our class reunion. One rule. Every woman had to show up in a bikini.
She made a point of sending me one.
By the time I got there her phone was already up on a tripod, live. 370,000 people watching.
"She's actually gonna show?" someone asked.
"Why wouldn't she?" Presley smiled into the camera. "I had the hotel set aside an extra-large changing tent just for her. Wouldn't want her scaring the other guests when she takes her clothes off."
Everyone around her cracked up.
"I got her a gift, too."
She lifted a pink bag off her chair and pulled out a neon pink bikini. It took two people, one on each end, just to hold it stretched out.
"3XL. I called the company. That's the biggest they make. If it still snaps, that's not on me."
A row of phones went up.
"Don't laugh." She hung the bikini over the back of the chair. "Two-Twenty's had it rough. If I hadn't stayed on her about her weight back then, who knows if she'd even be able to walk through that door today."
"Oh, and I invited someone from Meridian." She lifted her chin. "So certain people can see what a real body looks like. Instead of copying models online and embarrassing themselves."
What she didn't know was that the big shot she kept name-dropping worked for me.
I walked down the boardwalk and stopped right in front of her.
"Where's the tent?"

The Blood Moon Festival ended the night Caelan Voss stood up in front of every faction in Aurevael and announced he only wanted one person.
Her name wasn't mine.
The other consorts took their gold and went home. The Ironpact warriors headed back to their barracks. The Sylvari delegation slipped out before the second toast. The Covenant scholars packed their notes. Reunions. Celebrations. The kind of night the holiday was made for.
I had nowhere to go.
The mark on my inner wrist had always been warm. Just a low, steady pulse—easy to ignore after a few years, like a clock you stop hearing. I pressed my fingers over it out of habit.
Cold.
The contract was over. Twenty-one years, four failed routes, and now this. The ancient binding that had pulled me into this world had made its verdict.
I went to find a rope.

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

My pack's golden girl—my adopted sister—vanished. On my eighteenth birthday—the day my wolf should have awakened—my parents dragged me to a witch.
"Show us what you did to her."
Fine. Let them look.
Let them see who drugged me the day I came home. Who stole credit while I bled. Who smiled while planning my destruction.
They chose their precious Rosalie over me for three years.
They wanted the truth?
They were about to choke on it.

The new member posted a yacht contract to the club group chat on her first day in. The caption read: Thanks for the birthday present, Dad 🥂
Ten seconds later she deleted it. Breezy apology. Oops, wrong group.
I looked at the photo one more time before it disappeared. I didn't check the numbers. I looked at the name painted across the bow.
It was my mother's name.
The boat was mine. My father had told me about it a week ago.
The chat didn't care. Which family is she from? Ninety-six feet of custom teak. Sienna, you dark horse.
I asked, quietly, if she'd share the registration number. I wanted to hear what she'd say.
My own husband stood up from two desks over and tore into me in front of every member in the room. Told me I was jealous. Told me I was an embarrassment. Told me to know my place.
Later that week, he broke into my safe. Took the diamond my father had given me for my mother — and put it around her neck.
That night my father's encrypted voice memo came in from somewhere at sea. One minute long. The last line was this:
"Find your mother's necklace. I can't wear her myself. I need you to wear her for me."

My betrothed, Theron, gave me a unicorn — the highest honor our court could grant a lady.
I had it hitched to a dung cart and sent through the lower city.
Only because I had lived this life before.
Last time, I was proud of that creature. I rode it to every hunt, every procession, and people said no beast so pure had ever chosen a rider. My light was the brightest among the elves. Then, season by season, it went out. I withered, I burned away in my own bed, and everyone wept over how strangely the great Lady Eldraine had aged.
I thought it was some illness. I begged every healer in the realm. None of them found a thing.
I only learned the truth after I died.
My spirit watched a girl climb out of that unicorn's body. Elowen. The pale, dying little thing the whole court called a saint — and the woman Theron had wanted all along. She was wearing my light now — my glow, my color, my stolen years. She was radiant. She was alive. And she was in Theron's arms, where I used to stand.
"The binding held," she whispered to him. "Every time she rode me, I drank a little more. Her light. Her magic. Her life. It's all mine now."
Theron didn't even glance at my body. "She gave you her life," he said. "She should be glad."
So I laughed, when I woke again on the morning he led that unicorn into the hall.

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

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.

My foster brother Caelan swore he'd only ever marry me. Even though I'm the only human in a pack of wolves, for eighteen years he and his brother Ronan made me feel like I belonged.
Then Mira showed up—and suddenly she was his "fated mate."
I watched him bond with her while I choked on poisoned incense and collapsed. No one caught me. They were too busy wiping her tears.
Within a week, she had my room. My job. Eighteen years of memories—trashed.
They said I could never leave them.
They forgot about the vampire prince who's been waiting at the border for three months.
He never forgot me.

My downstairs neighbor tagged me in the building group chat at ten p.m.
His wife just had a pup, he said. Pups need moonlight, he said. So starting tonight, my private moon terrace belongs to his family.
He'd even pay me rent. Ten dollars a month.
For the terrace of a three-million-dollar penthouse.
When I said no, he reminded me he wasn't just my neighbor. He's my supervisor at the Calloway Group, and my probation review sits in his hands. Hand over the door code, or I'd never survive at that company.
He kept saying it. I can crush you at the Calloway Group.
Funny.
My mother owns the Calloway Group.
I was going to let him dig his own grave quietly. Then his family broke into my home, walked up to the one thing on that terrace worth half a million dollars—
And smashed it.

I'm Nora. Size 18. Transferred to my fourth school in four years. And on my very first day, the hottest guy in class leaned over and told me my seat had a weight limit.
That was Ethan Cross. Lacrosse captain, sharp jaw, zero empathy. He made it his personal mission to remind me I was fat — in the hallway, at lunch, in gym class, wherever he could get a laugh.
Then I found his sketchbook.
He'd left it open in the art room. I should've walked away. I didn't. I turned the page, and there I was — my body, my face, my hands — drawn over and over like he couldn't stop.
None of it was a joke. None of it was ugly.
So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

My ex-husband found me selling hair clips at a flea market. Rosie was asleep in her stroller.
"Come home. She's too young for this."
I said yes.
After that, I stopped checking his phone.
Rosie stopped crying when the other girl took her toys.
He spent the night at Simone's—we didn't call.
We ran into them at the mall—we walked the other way.
We finally became what he always wanted. Easy. Quiet. No drama.
So why is he the one who can't sleep now?
"Why don't you get mad anymore?"
"Rosie, why won't you ask me to stay?"

My chosen mate used his Beta authority to give the entire moonbloom compound to his fated mate's daughter.
The healer had said to split it—half for each child. Both would live. He overrode her. Gave the full dose to Rosalie Blackwell.
He wanted a full recovery. Just not for ours.
Three days later, my daughter Wren's organs shut down. She died on her birthday, still asking why Daddy wasn't there. The dress I'd made her—white with little silver wolves along the hem—she never got to put it on.
That same day, his fated's daughter walked out of the healing hall completely cured. He even threw a feast for the whole pack.
I collapsed at the border of Thornecrest territory. The healers told me it was cancer. Late-stage. Nothing left to treat.
Now I sat alone in our empty house with Wren's unworn birthday dress across my lap and drafted the dissolution papers.