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I spent two years alongside the Mafia don, serving as his most obedient secretary and most transparent wife, watching as he bestowed all his tenderness upon his shining muse. With great effort, I deceived him into signing the divorce papers and, turning away, fled to war-torn Syria, carrying his child within me. I believed I would never cross paths with him again, until one day, drenched in blood, he knelt amidst the rubble, desperately clawing at the stones, screaming my name. It was only after I left that he truly understood the meaning of loss...

I was forced by my father to fulfill an arranged engagement with an Alpha I'd never met face-to-face. Pushing open the jewelry store door, I found my fiancé Kane spoiling his childhood sweetheart Briar, who was trying to snatch my mother’s ring. "Security! Get this stray out of here!" Briar screamed, pointing at me. When I revealed my identity, Kane sneered coldly: "What bullshit pact? I would never marry a woman like you." Briar snatched the ring and threw water at my face: "Kneel down and beg me to give it back!" When I fought back, Kane exploded in rage: "How dare you touch my woman? Hold her down!" Four warriors pinned me down as Briar laughed cruelly: "Let everyone see this delusional bitch who doesn't know her place!" They stepped on my hand while Kane watched coldly, even urging her on: "Hurry up, let her learn her lesson." Just as she was about to chop off my finger with a knife, the door suddenly burst open—"Do you have any idea whose daughter you're humiliating?"

I died on my 28th birthday.

My family was throwing a birthday party for my sister Stella—yes, we share the same birthday, but in this house, only hers was worth celebrating.

My corpse was slowly rotting in the storage room while laughter and birthday songs echoed from the living room. They thought I was just "throwing another tantrum," completely unaware of the torment I had endured before dying.

The irony was crushing: I had spent five years ghostwriting musical compositions for her, making her the "genius composer" everyone adored. Meanwhile, I—the real creator—was dismissed as nothing more than a jealous older sister.

By the time they finally discovered my body, guided by the stench of decay, it was far too late.

But death was only the beginning of my revenge.

Every single person who had hurt me would pay the price.

Including those I loved most.

When I opened my eyes once more and beheld the familiar glint of scheming in my sister's gaze, I knew—she had also been reborn.

In my past life, she shattered the souls of my child and me with a forbidden moonlight ritual, driven solely by envy of my perfect partner and healthy heir. In my dying moments, I saw no remorse in her eyes, only a twisted satisfaction.

In this life, she still seeks to seize everything from me—my fiancé, my child.

This time, I have chosen the one whom everyone scorns as the "exile."

They call him a monster, curse him, and claim that any woman who unites with him will bear only deformed beasts.

What they fail to comprehend is that as I lay on the brink of death, it was he whose golden eyes reflected the anguish of despair. What they know even less is the secret I harbor—one that even I scarcely believe.

My dear sister, do you desire the perfect heir? Do you yearn for supreme power?

Come, then.

Let us see how long your hypocritical facade can endure when the blood moon rises again, and all discover the true "monster."

I was but eighteen when I found myself captivated by my best friend’s brother.

At twenty-one, I mustered the courage to confess my feelings. He welcomed me into his bed but never once into his heart.

For three long years, I reassured myself: "Just a little while longer. He will see me in due time."

Then Stella returned—the girl he had always yearned for, even while his hands roamed my body in the shadows.

He greeted her return with champagne and candlelight, and then, locking his gaze upon me amidst a gathering, he coldly declared:

"You crawled into my bed and offered yourself. Don't you see how cheap and pitiable you appear?"

I raised my eyes, meeting his once more.

"I shall no longer trouble you."

I retrieved my phone, navigated to a contact I had seldom engaged—my betrothed by arrangement—and typed: "I consent to the marriage."

Minutes before the Stanford Hackathon began, my childhood friend decided to bail to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok video.

I was just about to stop him when his inner voice suddenly exploded in my head: 'I actually got reborn?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve and stayed for the competition, securing my spot at Stanford. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!"

'Even though I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If Maeve dares to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My blood ran cold, and the words of persuasion died in my throat.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

On the eve of the violin competition, I was dragged into the basement and tormented for three excruciating hours, my hands shattered by iron rods, rendering me incapable of ever playing again.

As I lay in the hospital awaiting emergency care, I discovered the truth: it was my own father who had hired the assassins to ruin me; it was my fiancé who deliberately delayed my surgery, aiming to leave me permanently disabled; and ultimately, it was my pampered sister, cherished by the entire family, who had set fire to gasoline with the intent to burn me alive.

Fifteen years ago, a sorcerer had proclaimed that my sister was the 'blessing' of the Winslow family, while I, through my very existence, was deemed a 'curse' that needed to be eradicated.

Due to this absurd prophecy, I became the target of my family's ambition to be rid of me.

They wished for my demise, yet I am determined to survive — to witness them pay the price for their choices today.

Last lifetime, my mate, Kael, had faked his own death just to openly sleep with his sister-in-law without judgment.

I screamed until my throat bled, pointing at the man pretending to be his dead twin brother.

For telling the truth, he dragged me to the sacred altar and burned my mark off my skin, while our four-year-old son was thrown into a pitch-black cell for crying out for her father.

We were banished, torn apart by rogues.

But the Moon Goddess is fair. She woke me up on the exact day of the funeral.

As the pack howls in mourning for their "dead" Alpha, I look at the man hiding in his brother's skin.

I won't expose him this time.

If Kael wants to play a dead man just to play house with his whore, I'll make sure he stays dead forever.

On our fifth anniversary, my Mafia Don husband kissed my cheek, then switched to Corsican to tell our adopted daughter how much he enjoyed getting her pregnant piece by piece.

He didn't know I spoke seven languages. Corsican included.

He didn't know that in three days, I would vanish — no body, no trail, no goodbye.

When I disappeared, he lost his mind.

Now it was my turn to teach him what losing someone really meant.

The child I brought into this world through sheer determination now calls my husband's mistress "mother"; the youth who slew my father for my sake and was imprisoned, now confines me beyond the threshold, forcing me to hear his carnal symphony with his stepmother. Only then did I comprehend: the sixteen-year-old boy who committed patricide for me had long perished within the prison walls.

I knelt on the ground as my husband forcefully pried my fingers from his clothing, coldly uttering the words: "Get rid of this child."

This was my third child, a flesh and blood connection to him, yet for the sake of the white moonlight in a wheelchair, he plunged me into the depths of hell.

My in-laws remained indifferent, my husband betrayed me, and even my own parents cried out, “This child cannot be kept.”

I could not comprehend why a stranger confined to a wheelchair could dictate the fate of my child with a single phrase. Why did she, each time she entered that church, seal my child's fate?

It was not until the day she perished in a self-immolation within the church that I stepped inside and truly understood. Her confession, my loss, our collective suffering—all were intricately woven into a carefully orchestrated scheme spanning over a decade.

I thought I had the perfect life.

A mansion in Westport, a successful husband, a beautiful daughter. Sixteen years of marriage that seemed unbreakable.

Until I found another woman's watch band in my husband's car.

Until I discovered that woman was my daughter's soccer coach.

Until I realized my nine-year-old daughter was helping her father lie to me.

Some betrayals strike like lightning. Others seep in like slow poison, until you discover your entire world is a lie.

When I stood on the platform at our annual community barbecue, armed with evidence and burning with rage, I understood a truth that would have destroyed the woman I used to be:

Sometimes the only way to save your family is to destroy it first.

When my husband pushed the divorce papers in front of me for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I didn't cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name, willingly giving up the man I'd loved for eight years to Ivy.

A few days later, Ivy got drunk and drove into a state senator's only son during a street race, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. Once again, I stepped forward to take the blame and bear all the consequences.
When they later suggested I donate my kidney to Ivy, I readily agreed.

Mom and Dad said I'd finally grown into a mature and responsible sister.

Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He whispered, "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be a success. When you recover, we'll go traveling."

But he didn't know that whether the surgery succeeded or not, I wouldn't be going anywhere with him.

Because I was already terminally ill, with little time left.

I was the most revered pureblood Light heir.

In my past life, I married the Supreme Holy Knight, Arthur, only to give birth to an Ash-blood cub—the lowest of all.

In a rage, he incinerated my baby alive. He then dragged my bleeding, postpartum body into a saltwater dungeon to drain my magic, leaving me to be devoured by venomous insects.

Meanwhile, my lowly Ash-blood sister miraculously birthed a Light-blood cub. Stepping on my corpse, she became the realm's new ruler.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our Mate-Selection Ceremony. Arthur publicly rejected me and chose my sister.

Seeing his smug, calculating smirk, I knew immediately: he had been reborn, too.

But how could a parasitic knight, who survived entirely by draining his wife's magic to fake a holy bloodline, ever father a supreme dragon?

I was here because of missed periods and abnormal bleeding—a suspected threatened miscarriage.

When asked about our relationship, my boyfriend didn't even look at me.

"We're just classmates," he told the nurse.

He thought he was cutting ties with a worthless nobody so he could chase after a billionaire's daughter.

What he didn't know was... I was the heiress he was desperately looking for.

I died on my birthday.

While kidnappers shattered my limbs and violated me to death, my family was throwing a grand party for my sister Chloe—yes, we shared the same birthday, but only hers was worth celebrating.

I called my father for help. He sneered and hung up: "Stop using this pathetic kidnapping stunt to ruin Chloe's birthday."

I called my fiancé Mark. He said with disgust: "If you're going to die, do it somewhere far away."

In the final second before the flames consumed me, I finally understood—

I was never loved in this family.

And now that I'm truly dead, now that they've discovered Chloe hired those men to kill me, now that the truth has been exposed to the world...

Will they regret it?

Or will they, as always, continue to favor Chloe and blame everything on me—the dead one?

I was the reincarnation of the Ancient Star God and the fated mate of the Obsidian Dragon King, Ignis.

For seven years, I nearly bled my divine blood dry to break his curses. Everyone knew I loved him unconditionally.

Until his cold sneer shattered it all.

"Seraphina has laid my egg. After the Hunting Festival, I'll crown her as my queen. Keep Elara around to placate the Alliance. She's so madly in love with me, she'll gladly be a shield for them."

Something snapped deep within my chest. My empathy veins—the very magic that bound my emotions to him—shattered.

No heartbreak. No hysteria. That suffocating love was erased in an instant. Looking at Ignis now was like looking at a worthless stone.

I calmly returned to the temple and activated the marriage decree sent by the Elven High King, Aurelius.

The realm portal was charging. Departure: three days.

I severed our Mate Bond with my own hands.

In that moment, I lay unconscious, bleeding under the silvery moonlight, while he knelt some distance away, clutching his chest as if he had been hollowed out.

Once, he shielded me from nine silver stakes, only to crown another woman; he placed my protective pendant around her neck, then cast me into a water prison. He professed, “I love only you,” yet stood outside my hospital room, nursing her child as if it were his own.

I loathed him, resolved to leave.

I believed this was the end.

Little did I know, as I thought I had finally gained my freedom, he would chase after the debts of blood and regret, intruding upon the new life I was rebuilding—

To redeem a love that no longer sought redemption.

My husband, the terrifying Mafia Don, dropped fifteen million dollars on a luxury yacht just to throw a lavish, high-profile birthday celebration for his precious first love.

And today marks exactly seven days since I died of an infection in a Detroit slum, simply because I couldn't scrape together a few cents for antibiotics.

At the banquet, an oblivious guest tactlessly brought up my name.

Alessandro dialed my number for the first time in five years.

"Genevieve, if you've suffered enough, crawl back here and beg Elena for forgiveness."

That is, until the estate doors were violently shoved open.

A scavenger walked in, leading a little boy whose face was an eighty-percent match to Alessandro's.

Six hundred years into our marriage, I found out my husband had a son.

I had ended my border patrol three days early, wanting to surprise Valerius.

Not far away, Valerius was channeling his exclusive magic, teaching a boy how to weave the darkness.

"Dad! I did it!" The boy looked up. His bright eyes were a near-perfect reflection of Valerius's.

My mind instantly went blank.

Dad?

A woman walked over.

She draped a small cloak over the boy's shoulders, her hand brushing against Valerius's chest with practiced familiarity. "Valeri, the wind is picking up. He'll catch a cold now that he's sweating."

Valerius naturally wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My fault."

The image of them huddled together like a picture-perfect family was an ice-tipped needle driven straight into my eyes.

The sharp sting made my breath hitch in my throat.

The man who had sworn before the Senate to love me for all eternity—the man bound to me by a Soul Blood Pact—had already betrayed me!

A sudden, agonizing cramp seized my lower abdomen.

It was an old wound from six centuries ago.

When the Sunfire Curse nearly reduced Valerius to ashes, I had offered my high-born pure blood and my womb as a sacrifice to forcibly block the hex for him.

The price was permanent infertility, along with an excruciating backlash of pain I had to endure every single month.

Back then, Valerius had held me, his eyes red and tear-filled. "I don't want any children! I would rather lose my seat in the Senate than ever betray you!"

Yet the scene before me crushed those words into fine dust.

I stumbled backward, my chest feeling as though it had been ripped open by bare hands.

I was terrified I'd lose control and rush over to scream at him.

Worse yet, in the face of this cozy, happy family of three, I was afraid I'd look like a pathetic, unwanted outsider.

Suffocation gripped my throat. I turned and fled.

When the armored car had room for only one passenger, Damian Russo chose me.

I was saved, but Lilia Brown didn't make it. She bled out in the crossfire, her body left in the rubble. Damian pretended he didn't care and married me as planned.

For three years, he made me pay for her death—beating me, starving me, blaming me for the fact that she was gone.

In the end, he drove us both off a cliff instead.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the docks on the night of the ambush. This time, I stepped aside and let him save the woman he truly loved.

That day, I stood in the rain, donned in a rented wedding gown.

He texted, "I’m sorry, Elena, I won’t be coming."

Five years later, he gazed at me and said, "Come work as a maid at my home, in light of the service you once rendered me."

He believed I remained the wretched creature he had trampled upon.

Little did he know that my current husband, Dante Vancetti, is the man who instills fear across all of San Valero.

And I am his Donna—his queen, his entire universe.

Marco Ricci, welcome to hell.

My father chose two vampires as marriage prospects for my sister and me.

One was an immensely powerful pureblood aristocrat.

The other was Cassian, crippled by a silver curse. Confined to a wheelchair, he was a laughingstock—wracked by phantom pains and constantly on the verge of madness.

In my past life, I chose Cassian.

I drained my own blood to ease his agonizing curse. I shielded him from the relentless mockery of the Vampire Court. I even gambled my life in werewolf territory to beg for his cure.

But he never seemed to get better.

I didn't care. I remember holding his hand and telling him, "It doesn't matter. No matter what happens to you, I will always stay by your side."

Until the accident. A pack of rogue werewolves ambushed us.

Cassian shoved me precisely into the path of their claws.

Just to shield my sister, Serena, from the fatal blow.

Silver claws completely shredded my throat.

Through my fading vision, I watched Cassian stand up from his wheelchair.

The terrifying aura of a Vampire Lord erupted from him, crushing the werewolves instantly. Countless night-thralls emerged from the shadows, dropping to their knees at his feet.

That was when I understood. He was never paralyzed, and he was never mad.

Because Serena hadn't chosen him, and because he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, he faked the illness to disgust me for years.

Then, he used my life to save his true love.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you. But I couldn't just watch Serena die."

"Elara... whatever I owe you, I'll repay in the next life."

In the bone-piercing cold, I took my last breath.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the exact day my father forced us to make our choice.

On the day of the Bonding Pact, my sister and I stood in the grand hall to choose our husbands.

She snatched Malik of the Water Snakes, throwing Raven—the last heir of the Leviathans—to me.

In our past life, we married on the same day, but our grooms were reversed.

She married Raven and birthed a patricidal monster. I married Malik, using my healing magic to cleanse the madness from his blood, and gave birth to a divine heir worshiped by all.

In the end, driven mad by jealousy over her ruin, she murdered me.

In this life, pointing at Malik's token, she declared she would marry Malik .

I lowered my head, hiding my eyes. "Then I wish you exactly what you desire, Sister."

Brought back to the Sterling family, I became a living blood bag just to cure my younger sister's "terminal" illness.

On the night of her eighteenth coming-of-age gala, I tugged at my biological mother's hem, begging. "Mom, can we skip the blood extraction just for tonight? I just want to stand in the corner, celebrate our birthday with you all, and watch the cake being cut."

"Your sister is still suffering in agony, and all you care about is cutting a cake?"

My mother ordered my oldest brother to lock me in the attic using a heavy silver chain.

When the fire broke out, severely weakened by blood loss and paralyzed by the toxic silver, I was burned alive.

Drifting downstairs as a phantom, I overheard my mother scoffing to my brother. "Elena's blood condition was cured three years ago. We kept draining her just to teach her a lesson. Did she really think she could use the title of 'biological daughter' to steal Elena's place? This is the price she pays for daring to threaten Elena's status."

The truth was, my adopted sister's illness had healed long ago. All my living hell was nothing but a brutal, calculated punishment.

The boy I grew up with was this town's star quarterback.

Everyone saw him as the golden boy.

Yet, for a delinquent, he willingly threw away his athletic career and plunged headfirst into the local drug ring.

Desperate to pull him back from the edge, I tipped off the police about the drug den, hoping it would be his wake-up call.

Instead, he hated me to the bone for it.

To prove his loyalty to his "true love"—and to punish me—he gave our home security code to a crew of methed-up thugs.

They broke in and put a bullet through my parents' heads, wiping out my entire family.

It wasn't until I took a bullet to the chest and lay choking on my own blood, staring at a mocking text from him, that I finally woke up.

But fate, it turns out, decided to give me a second chance.

On our third wedding anniversary, a catastrophic car accident plunged me into a state of life-threatening hemorrhage. Yet, before the medical staff, my husband roared: "Draw my wife's blood first; save Serena."

Serena—his first love.

It became apparent that he had never married me out of love; I was but a living blood bank, intended solely to sustain his cherished first love. It was only when I discovered I was pregnant that I realized he would not even spare the life within me.

That incarceration, cloaked in the guise of love, had nearly claimed my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the Clara who could be so easily sacrificed. This time, I shall ensure he pays for his blood debt, with no chance of redemption.

It took Draco seven years after my death to finally remember me—and he did it by leveling the Astral Sanctuary to the ground.

All because his fragile childhood sweetheart, Cecilia, had suffered a relapse. She needed my Starblood to survive.

He didn't know that in the Abyssal Dungeons seven years ago, he had personally cut open my chest and drained me dry.

I was already dead.

Now, I was nothing but a fractured soul tethered to the Sanctuary, watching coldly as he dragged his own spirit into eternal damnation for a venomous liar.

They say the dead go where they belong.

But I didn't.

I drift through the cold winds, watching my husband—the detective who once swore to protect me with his life—diligently investigating a dismemberment case.

He doesn't know that the broken body lying in the morgue is his wife.

He doesn't know that the gentle, caring "psychologist" who brings him lunch every day is the one who killed me.

He doesn't know that when I called him in my final moments, begging for help, he hung up on me. I am dead. Yet, that is not the cruelest part— the most harrowing aspect is having to witness the truth gradually emerge, watching as that man collapses completely upon uncovering it all.

After my son was kidnapped by criminals, I begged my detective husband to save him.

He was too busy protecting his frightened first love to care—hanging up on my desperate calls one after another.

The kidnappers demanded a $500,000 ransom to spare my child's life. That's when I discovered he had already drained our family savings—to spoil his first love.

When I screamed that his own son was hanging by a thread, he just sneered that I was an attention-seeking liar.

In the end, the kidnappers sent back my seven-year-old son's severed head.

Even after that, my husband still fought tooth and nail to protect his first love who had orchestrated our child's death.

It wasn't until I made him stand before that headless little body and identify it himself that he finally, completely, lost his mind.

Ninety-nine pearl necklaces correspond to ninety-nine fractures in my heart.

He was accustomed to using extravagant pearls to atone for his transgressions, yet on the day of my mother’s funeral, he chose to vacation with his mistress while plotting to take from me the ancestral home my mother left behind.

When the hundredth pearl arrived, I presented him with the divorce papers. The pain of my miscarriage still lingered, as he offered me a rare black pearl to "atone"; moments later, he was liking his mistress's posts.

He believed pearls could purchase my love, unaware that each bead counted down the moments of our marriage.

In the end, what does it matter if he risked everything to protect me?

I shall never turn back.

I loved Julian for ten years, carving every sweat-stained day into my love for him.
He once said I shined brighter than any gold medal.
Yet in five short minutes, he handed my dream, my glory, and my whole world to a scheming transfer girl.
Betrayed, discarded, and broken on the fencing strip, I lost my first love and everything I fought for.
Until the retired cold Olympic champion stepped out of the dark midnight shadows.
He offered me hellish training and a sharp blade of revenge.
I buried my soft heart, handed over my soul, and vowed to make every traitor pay.

"Legs, clamped so tight?"
In the darkness, the man's scorching body pressed against me like a branding iron, his biting kisses forcing my teeth apart, his cock grinding and thrusting into the deepest part of me.
I couldn’t catch my breath, murmuring softly, "Slow down… I can’t take it anymore."
But he acted as if he hadn’t heard, gripping my tense hips and thrusting upward like a madman.
Amid the sticky, wet sounds, the rhythm of flesh colliding grew faster and more urgent…

After the Smith family fell into debt, Scarlett became Richard Gray’s fiancée, only to unexpectedly have a one-night stand with his nephew, Alexander. Their tangled relationships turned her into a pawn in their power struggle. But Scarlett’s true identity was far more complex than it seemed. When she eventually took the head position in the Gray family while pregnant, Alexander, with bloodshot eyes and a smile that stretched to breaking point, asked: "So this was your purpose all along?" Scarlett smiled, taking his hand and pressing it to her abdomen, saying, "Be good. From now on, the game is mine to control!"
Updates in progress, 8 chapters released daily

“Are you okay, kitten? Don’t tell me you’ve had enough when we’re just starting. You’re supposed to be our insatiable mate.”
—

Getting enrolled in a new school and forced to hide her real identity due to her father’s demand because she’s wolfless. She chooses to live a quiet life through college and get it done with, but that can’t happen when she sets foot wrong with the school’s queen bee on her first day and catches the attention of the two hottest twins in school.

The last thing she wants is to get involved with two nasty twins who make her question her every stance.

As fate would have it, she soon realizes she’s mate to these two notorious twins who have been on her neck and wanted her for their little games but little did the twins know they’ll be the ones get stuck in that game forever.

WARNING: CONTAINS MATURE EROTIC EXPLICIT SCENES! PURELY R-RATED!!!

"Onyx, remove your hand. If you continue to touch, you will lose." He chuckled as she exhaled "The condition was to not give in and fuck, Ophelia. I'm merely touching!"
As his fingers returned to their former position, she forced herself to relax. She cursed herself in her head for setting the bar at fuck.
When his fingers worked circles around her clit, she nearly died on the spot. As the moist fabric glided over her sensitive area, her release became more urgent, and she regulated her breathing as he quickened his speed.

His gaze never left hers, as he watched the ecstasy wash over her face, she was growing desperate for release at this point and could just beg. "You simply have to ask, Ophelia, and I'll give you the release you want!" As her name flowed off his tongue, she shivered. "No!" Her voice was clipped, strained even. "Are you certain? Imagine how splendid it would feel when you cum all over my finger here under this table and when I fill your pussy after dinner. Raw and hard, just how you like it."

Onyx Reighs is perhaps one of the finest Chief executives in town. He was respected by his subordinates and desired by females since he possessed every excellent precision a man should have as a leader. But by the end of the night, he was the most notorious player. To him, the purpose of life was to work hard and enjoy life to the fullest. No woman could ever resist his enchantments, and he hadn't expected to know the word "rejected" until she came to fly his bird. What will happened when the lady who rejected him turned out to be his soulmate?

“This isn’t right. Wh-what if we get caught?” I trembled in both fear and pleasure. A sense of guilt flooded through me.

A dark chuckle left one of the boys' lips— my alpha stepbrothers. “Well, that makes it more exciting.” Their warm tongues trailed softly on my skin. Igniting a burning storm in me.

Oh, moon goddess!


Excited to start a life with her mum’s new family. Things didn’t go as planned when she arrived at the pack’s house.

Meeting two drop-dead handsome brothers wasn’t what she was hoping for and most especially getting into the craziest carnal desires with them.

Could it be the moon goddess had something in store for them?

Something so forbidden?

Every time she draws away, the brothers find a way to pull her back into their sin.

How would she ever escape such forbidden atrocities?

She shouldn’t be doing this.

It was very wrong.

So, so wrong.

Yet why does it feel good?

Why does it make her toes curl?

Why does her wolf howl with each passing pleasure and orgasm?

And…

Why does it feel so right?

WARNING: Contains extremely explicit content. Read at your own risk or not!

“Do you know how sexy you look right now?” His deep voice made my core tingle as his fingers glided between my folds.

He was hot and I was slimy and wet. “Oh, gosh!” I threw my head back in pleasure as he increased his pace.

His magical fingers made me fidget shamelessly, “Please—” aching for a release.

“Do you want to cum for me, Pookie?” A dark smirk glinted at the corner of his lips.

And I…

I just couldn't take it anymore.


They called her ugly and fat, she felt out of place. The only family she had mistreated not until she encountered the billionaire golden boy who is ready to go miles for her.

But not without a storm ahead.

The moment Alexander lost his memory, I chose to lie: "I'm your girlfriend."

I maintained that lie for seven whole years.

For seven years, I lived like a shadow by his side, watching the disgust in his eyes after his memory returned, enduring every humiliation he gave me for Charlotte's sake. Until I held our dead child and swallowed that bottle of sleeping pills.

When I was reborn and opened my eyes, facing the same amnesiac Alexander, this time I said: "I'm just your friend."

Then I turned around and married his brother Daniel.

When Alexander knelt in the rain crying and begging for my forgiveness, when he desperately rescued Daniel from the rubble, when he was finally found breathless in his room— I no longer wanted to look back.

Ten years of secret love, and what did I get? Watching him fall for another woman at MY art exhibition.

The most ridiculous part? He turned to me and said, "Harper, you have to help me win her over."

I orchestrated their romantic encounters, taught him how to charm women, even told him what flowers she liked. I was the perfect wingman, watching them fall in love while I licked my wounds in the dark.

Until Dr. Avery confronted me with one devastating question: "Do you really think he doesn't know you love him?"

When I finally screamed "I've loved you for ten years!" at Mason, his response froze my blood:

"I know. I've always known."

Turns out, my ten years of devotion were nothing more than a free emotional dumping ground to him—the convenient girl who would never leave. He enjoyed my care while pretending not to see my love, because that was safest, easiest.

Pathetic, right?

A woman wastes ten years loving a man, only to end up pushing him into someone else's arms.

Until Blake appeared.......

In the terminal stage of cancer, my only life-saving chemotherapy opportunity was bought out by Patrick for Laura, who only had early-stage cancer.

I gave up the treatment plan that doctors said could save my life and swallowed strong pain-blocking medication. The consequence was organ failure and death within three days.

During these three days, I gave up everything.

When I gave all my hard-earned achievements to Laura, my parents smiled with relief.

When Patrick presented the divorce papers and I signed them readily, he sighed and said I was very sensible.

When I pushed Anna to call Laura "mom," she said excitedly that mommy was the best.

Even when I transferred all my properties and assets to Laura, they didn't notice anything wrong.

They just looked at me with relief and said: "Our sensible Flora has finally come back."

But I'm also curious - after I die, will they ever think of me?

In my past life, the glorious "Son of the Sun" drained my divine blood until I died a broken shell.
Reborn, my twin sister eagerly steals my fiancé, shoving me toward the exiled, "crippled" King of the Shadow Crows.
As she flaunts her stolen glory, desperate to birth the sky's future ruler, I can only smile.
She doesn't know her golden prince is functionally sterile—and the "heir" she's destroying herself to conceive will be a nightmare.
And she certainly has no idea that my featherless, outcast husband is actually the ancient Abyssal Phoenix.
Let her drown in the hell she stole. This time, I’ll let the very abyss she cursed crown me as a True God.

I used to believe the most beautiful sound in the world was a baby's first cry.

Until I watched my three children die, one by one, at the hands of a woman with the sweetest smile.

Her name was Isabella, my husband's cousin. She would tenderly offer tissues after my miscarriages, frantically call for help when I fell down the stairs, thoughtfully make soup to comfort me after I lost each child.

She was such a talented actress. So convincing that even my mafia don husband said, "Isabella is more suited to be the lady of this house than you are."

But they didn't know—

A docile sheep, once it learns the wolf's rules, becomes far more dangerous than any real wolf.

When Dominick smashed Antonio's skull with the holy chalice, when Isabella screamed through her miscarriage in the basement, when blood splattered across the Virgin Mary's face...

I got dragged online by one of my lead devs.

He claimed my "Incubation Project" was a gilded cage—a trap to exploit the team and steal their personal IPs.

The truth?

I funded it out of my own pocket.

Selected candidates would get a $50,000 no-strings-attached seed fund, plus full Ivy League tuition reimbursement. It was 100% voluntary, with zero penalties for opting out.

Since the internet decided I was a toxic capitalist monopolizing their creativity, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I fired off a company-wide memo:

[To protect your creative freedom from capitalist exploitation, the $50,000 Incubation Fund is permanently abolished, effective immediately.]

[As an alternative, the monthly education allowance for all employees is now a $15 reimbursement for basic coding courses.]

The moment the memo dropped, the employees who were counting on that $50k to pay off student loans or change their lives completely lost it.

Now, they're swarming right outside my glass office door, eyes red, begging me to reinstate the program.

As the Guardian of the Sylvan Enclave's Sacred Vein, the centennial Fading Period was the one time I was utterly defenseless.

Yet, on this exact day, the four High Lord brothers I had protected for centuries decided to harvest my Vein—all because our adopted human sister whined about wanting to become an elf instantly.

Without the Vein, the Enclave would wither.

In my past life, I desperately fought them off. I begged them to reconsider, promising to manually infuse her with my magic to sustain her life.

They backed down, but Cassianne's greed didn't. She sneaked into the Forbidden forest seeking a shortcut to power and was devoured by beasts.

When news of her death hit, my brothers lost their minds.

They smashed my sanctuary and physically tore open my chest.

"If you hadn't been so selfish, hoarding your Vein, she wouldn't have been so desperate! Rot in hell, you monster!"

Blinded by rage, they shattered my limbs and hollowed me out, leaving me to suffocate in my own pooling blood.

Opening my eyes again, I realized I had been reborn.

This time, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted.

I accompanied my husband's grandmother, who had just undergone heart bypass surgery, to quietly recuperate on the top floor of a private club. However, we were invaded by a woman adorned in the ruby necklace I designed, wielding my husband's supplementary card. She publicly humiliated my grandmother and locked us in a freezing cold chamber at minus sixty degrees, declaring herself to be my husband's fiancée. In a desperate attempt to save my grandmother, I publicly slandered myself, but she then reneged on her words—just as the sound of my husband's footsteps echoed from the doorway…

I have been engaged to my fiancé nine times, and each time, he has abandoned me on the wedding day for my sister.

The first time, I knelt in the church, pleading with him not to leave, while he gently cradled my sister, not even affording me a glance.

By the ninth time, as he once again postponed the wedding for her sake, I no longer cried or protested. Instead, I calmly removed my veil and said, "You may go; the wedding is canceled."

He believed this was merely a ploy of mine, filled with confidence as he promised, "Once Emma is better, we'll reschedule the ceremony."

Little did he know that the departure date on my plane ticket coincided with our wedding day. As he frantically searched for me, I had already become the fiancée of his worst enemy.

This time, even if he were to kneel and beg at my doorstep, I would never look back.

"Priest, I'm requesting to transfer my registry to the Forbidden Lands. And I need the materials to forge a Moonshadow Puppet. In three days, it will stand in my place at the mating altar."

I spoke into the communication rune in my palm.

From the other end, the Moon Priest's voice spiked with warning. "Aria, do you have any idea what you're saying? The Forbidden Lands is an abyss of no return! It's ruled by the Lycans. You don't even have a wolf spirit—walking in there is a death sentence!"

"My decision is final."

After a long beat, his heavy, suppressed sigh echoed through. "Using a puppet substitute is an act of absolute blasphemy against the Moon Goddess... You've waited for Kaelen for so many years. Why walk away now?"

"Because a puppet will never betray a sacred vow."

I was a broke scholarship student. Chloe was an old-money heiress and the untouchable cheer captain.

She paraded me through her elite world and even generously shoved me at her ultimate crush—Aston, the ruthless son of the school board director.

But when Aston and I actually got together, the princess bared her fangs.

She staged a severe fall to drain my meager savings, then framed me for stealing her family's heirloom necklace. And Aston? He dumped me immediately, sneering that I was just a cheap prop desperate to climb the social ladder.

Ostracized and cyberbullied by the entire school, I was locked on the rooftop during the Winter Formal and left to freeze to death in the snow.

But when I opened my eyes...

I was back at that deafening party. Right at the moment Chloe first introduced me to Aston.

I had given my whole heart to my boyfriend Tristan, yet during a game of Truth or Dare at the party, when he lost, he kissed his childhood sweetheart Celeste without the slightest hesitation. When I confronted him in utter devastation, he merely regarded me with impatience, urging me not to be such a poor sport. At that moment, Tristan's perpetually silent twin brother suddenly stepped forward, seized the 'passionate kiss' dare card from the table, fixed his gaze intently upon my lips, and tilting his head with an air of innocent inquiry, asked: "Sister-in-law, if he can play, are you able to play as well?"

Rumored to be a bloodthirsty monster, the Dark Moon Alpha terrified my twin sister into fleeing their arranged marriage to elope with a rogue.

In my past life, my parents forced me to take her place.

Instead of dying, I ended up in the Alpha's castle, showered in the pack's unimaginable wealth.

Starving on the run, my jealous sister conspired with our parents.

They drained my wolf bloodline and burned me alive in a pure silver mine, just so she could steal my face and the Alpha's favor.

Opening my eyes, I found myself back on the night of her escape.

Instead of begging, I willingly grabbed the wedding dress.

"Elope in peace, sister. I'll marry the monster for you."

She thought she was handing me a death sentence.

But she had no idea... the obsessive love of a top-tier Alpha, and the supreme throne of the Luna...

This time, they will all be mine!