2457 Book(s) Related to My Life, My Choices

Not long after I transferred to this school, I became the bullies’ favorite target.
They didn’t like how quiet I was or how pale I looked, so they casually slapped me with a nickname: “vampire.”
It started with shoves in the hallway and jeers in the classroom, escalated to messing with my drink, then stuffing trash into my locker.
They treated my silence as permission and wrapped every provocation in the same excuse: “Just a joke.”
Until that night, when humiliation wasn’t enough. They lured me into a tiny storage room behind the auditorium—locked the door, killed the lights, set up a fixed camera—ready to strap me to a chair and film an “execution” video that would make sure I could never hold my head up at this school again.
What they didn’t know was that the nickname wasn’t a joke. It was the one time they got the truth right.
I really am a vampire.

In my last life, a friend I’d trusted for ten years drove a knife into my heart over a single biscuit. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn—right before the extreme freeze arrived.

He was convinced the apocalypse had come. He borrowed from loan sharks, rented a massive warehouse to hoard supplies, and even crowned himself king during the icebound period, killing without mercy.

But he didn’t know the truth:

This disaster would end completely after only thirty days.

While he taunted me like a madman, I didn’t expose him. I calmly requested thirty days of paid leave from my company.

This time, I’ll sit in a warm, climate-controlled room and watch—when the state machine restarts on day thirty—how he drops to his knees and sobs in despair.

At the Morello family’s Christmas dinner, I stood beside Vincent, waiting for him to announce our engagement.
Instead, in the very next second, he walked in holding a little boy and claimed him as his son.
And the woman he said he was going to marry? Scarlett Morello. The one he had always introduced as his “sister.”
The whole room erupted in applause. I stood there frozen, like a nail hammered into the floor.
Later, in his study, he took my hand and said, “Scarlett is dying. Late-stage breast cancer. She only has six months left. After she’s gone, I’ll marry you.”
But there was no guilt in his eyes. No love, either.
Then he told me to go to his villa that afternoon, to take care of the woman who was supposedly “dying.”
I opened the photo he sent me. Scarlett was lying in a hospital bed, pale-faced, an IV in the back of her hand.
A professional tennis player who had been playing in an exhibition match three weeks ago, and who had dropped three grand at Louis Vuitton on Fifth Avenue just five days ago.
But sure. She was “dying.”
At three in the morning, I was curled up by the front door of my apartment, crying so long I lost track of time.
Then my phone lit up. A text from an unknown number:
[Elena, I’m downstairs. When we were kids, you told me that once I controlled the docks on the East Coast, you’d marry me. The docks are mine now. Does that promise still stand?]
I pulled back the curtain and there he was. Ethan Vitale, my first love, leaning against the door of a black Cadillac, lifting a hand in a lazy wave.
Three years ago, when he left New York, he was only a Capo.
Now, he was the Don of the Vitale family.
He didn’t rush me. Didn’t pressure me to come downstairs.
He came for one reason only, to let me know he was back.
I wiped away my tears and texted back:
[It still stands.]
Because I wanted to see for myself just how long that woman could keep up her act.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

Becoming the slave of her ex-mate's new wife wasn't a problem, but watching her parents' execution, after being rejected by her mate who cheated on her was more than enough to make the once beautiful and lively Lilith a vegetable Luna, as fate had better plans for her; a second chance in love with the Alpha King.
Will she ever recover from her trauma, and love her new mate same way he loves her?
Will she be able to let go of her pains to take up the new responsibility assigned her by the goddess-to assist the King save the world around them amidst enemies?
What will become of her ex-mate when she becomes the Luna Queen?
Read Mated To Alpha Gregory to unravel the mystery of Lilith's life.

Kara Martin was known as Miss Perfect. She was a beauty with good personality and successful career. Unfortunately, her life changed at one night. She was accused of adultery, losing her job, and abandoned by her fiance.
The arrogant man who slept with her did not want to take responsibility. He even threatened to kill her if they met again. What’s worse, Kara was pregnant with twins and she chose to give birth to them.
Four and a half years later, Kara returned to work at a large company. As the secretary, she would frequently face their notorious CEO. Kara thought it wouldn't be a problem, but as it turned out ... the CEO was the father of the twins!

Corvus grabbed my jaw, his fingers dug into my cheeks, and my lungs squeezed at his choking aura.

"I will never marry you, Miss Shepherd. And if you dare come near me again, I'll slit your throat." He growled, and my stomach dropped.

It wasn't a threat; it was a promise.

••••~•

A messy, drugged one-night stand gave Zuri Shepherd the marriage she desperately needed—only to discover her husband was a monster. Corvus Vane, the alpha of Bloodhound pack, was a terrifying beast from her nightmares. A cruel and emotionless predator feared by his kind.

To each other, they were inconvenient tools.

He needed her body to manage his curse. She needed his blood for the perfect revenge.

But her soul craved every bit of that beast.

She needed his intoxicating lips, his seductive touch, and his sinful body over hers while he brought her pleasure in a way no beast should.

Now she's torn between her burning desire and her duty to fulfil. Will she lose herself to the passion or use it against him? Will she damn their souls this time?