121 Book(s) Related to junpei jujutsu kaisen

Kayden Brane is a strongest Mafia Boss, Kayden Brane knows he is not straight and he knows what he wants, he wants a man who can fulfil his needs and that did not become difficult for him that's all Kayden Brane wants a pure sex. But when Kayden Brane meets Ijin Lee he doesn't think he will fall for Ijin Lee in the first meet. When Kayden Brane finds out that Ijin Lee is broken, he tries to make Ijin Lee's heart of stone fall in love.

Taliya never believed in fate—until fate dragged her into a world that wasn’t her own.

One moment, she was at the beach. The next, she was running for her life in an unfamiliar land. Lost, powerless, and desperate to return home, she soon realizes escape won’t be easy. and hunted by a man she didn't know—but who claimed her as his.

Kaidon is feared. Ruthless. Cursed from birth. And for reasons she can’t understand, he is convinced that she belongs to him.

But Taliya refuses to be trapped in a world that isn’t hers. When a mysterious witch offers her a way out, she takes it—Desperate for a way back home—only to discover that freedom comes at a terrible price.

She must kill Kaidon.

The problem? He would rather destroy the world than let her go.

In a kingdom where danger lurks in the shadows, she must make a choice. Escape or surrender… before obsession turns into something far more deadly.

She was scared of being caged up in her home where no one acknowledged her.

April seek for freedom and to be free comes with a great price

Eloping with her lover wasn't the best option but only option and answer to the very thing she desired most, freedom.

Her fears came rushing back in a strange city with no one to run to when the very person she trusted turns out to be a monster

Just when she was about to accept the scary fate staring at her, light came shining on her dark part. Philip, a handsome billionaire fell in love with her and she was ready to hold onto him as her only saving grace, April kept a huge secret from Phil which Louise threaten to expose if she does not do his evil biddings.

April was thrown into a dilemma when Louise gave her few days to meet his demand or she will be exposed and thrown back to the slum where she belongs, unknown to Louise that April was cooking up a plan of her own but if her plans fail she may loose everything including Phil, and that was the very thing she was afraid off.

For six years, I sold my body to underground clinics as a human lab rat to cure my son's heart failure and pay off my husband's debts.

Today, my biological brother kicked away the medicine I bought with half my life.

"Lucas was never sick. We faked the medical records to teach you a lesson for upsetting Virginia."

My husband coldly chimed in:

"I never went bankrupt either."

Even the son I bled to birth stabbed my arm, screaming, "A bloody monster like you doesn't deserve to be my mom!"

I finally realized my entire life was a meticulously crafted scam.

With my organs rapidly failing and only ten days left to live, I stepped onto the edge of the balcony.

"You're right," I smiled at my husband and brother, watching the color completely drain from their faces. "Six years of my life isn't enough to apologize to her."

"So I'll pay you with my corpse."

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

In the world of Kinheim, gods walk among humans. They are gluttonous, lustful and materialistic. Tarsus, Felicity and Damon chance-meet at a sub-urban tavern. Their fortunes converge as they begin a journey together towards Mt. Radomir, a utopian destination where the gods reside. Romantic rivalry erupts between the two young men during an adventure that pushes them beyond the boundaries of their latent abilities. Brace yourself for an epic tale with divine beings, mythological monsters, stirring romance, and riveting escapades.

Read if you like- Greek gods, Zeus-Poseidon-like gods, Immortals, Magic, Action.

In the continent of Kinenhi, ravaged by past conflict and war, an age of peace and harmony has endured for years. Trade and commerce are flourishing among the six village nations. In the warrior village- Karasuma, the Legacy Trials are about to begin, which tests the mettle of the young and uninitiated. A host of budding warriors train to contend against each other in battles of melee, magic, and the mind. Among them are heroes of the future, who shall possess unbridled power and suffer cruel choices of fate.

Meanwhile, evil lurks in the dark, plotting and scheming to rupture the fabric of peace, and pit village against village, ally against ally, and hero against hero. As matters escalate, dark secrets buried deep come to the fore, and a long-forgotten prophecy is revived from oblivion. Will the heroes respond to the call of destiny? Brace yourself for a journey through beautiful landscapes, electrifying battles, stirring romance, and spine-tingling mystery.

I thought the worst thing that could happen to me was discovering my boyfriend didn’t love me anymore.

Then a nightmare creature tried to kill me in a dark New York alley.

The only person who believed what I saw was Alexander Sterling—my impossibly wealthy, terrifyingly handsome boss. One touch from him should have erased my memory. Instead, it revealed a secret hidden beneath my skin and shattered everything I thought I knew about myself.

Because Alexander isn’t human.

He’s a Fae Prince. Five hundred years old. Powerful enough to command ancient magic, rule a hidden kingdom, and make even monsters fear his name.

And according to him, I’m the key to a prophecy that could tear apart the barrier between the human world and the Fae realm.

Overnight, my ordinary life disappears. I’m forced into Alexander’s enchanted estate, surrounded by winged warriors, talking gargoyles, deadly court politics, and magic I can barely control. The Fae Council wants me eliminated before my power awakens.

Alexander refuses to let that happen.

The cold, ruthless prince who intimidates judges, billionaires, and supernatural creatures alike becomes my protector, my teacher…and the one man capable of making my heart race with a single glance.

The closer we grow, the more impossible it becomes to ignore the sparks between us. But every stolen touch awakens something ancient, something dangerous. A bond neither of us fully understands.

If I fail to master the power inside me, two worlds could fall.

And if I surrender to the prince who swears I belong to him?

I might lose my heart long before I lose my life.

Kataleya Frost lives in a world where Alpha Females are considered to be a myth. A legend. Kataleya had suffered from intense trauma when she was 18, which affected her outlook on life. She used to dream of one day finding her mate and having the perfect mate bond, similar to what her parent's have; however, now Kataleya wants nothing to do with him. Kataleya's brother was set to become the next Alpha, but had decided that he had other aspirations and named Kataleya as his successor. This change will cause her to have to change many things within the pack hierarchy and what is considered to be normal in a pack. Her father always taught her and her brothers that the road to becoming Alpha was never going to be easy, but will Kataleya ever be accepted by the members of her pack as their future Alpha? When Kataleya meets her mate, will he be able to change her prospective on life and the mate bond? Will her mate become her salvation or her ultimate downfall? What happens when something from her past come back to haunt her? Will she succumb to her painful memories or will she be able to move past it to save herself and her pack?

Staring straight into her eyes, a playful smile curls his lips. "If you agree to be my pet for a year, then you and your father will be free." The devil whispers coldly, with his eyes full of desire.
To save her father who stole from the ruthless mafia lord, Theo Rodriguez. Everyone surrenders to him, but she dares to confront him. Even though she is trembling with fear, her tearful eyes show determination. She knows this will drag her to hell, but still, she says yes. Will this deal that started as a pleasure trade by force grow into more? Will they crave and fall for each other? Or will they just break up when the contract expires, leaving their passion behind?

I have recurring dreams about a mysterious man who watches over me as I sleep. But I know he can’t be real—at least, that’s what I thought until today.

I’ve spent my life running with my mother. She always said we couldn’t stay in one place for more than six months. Whenever I asked why, she never gave me an answer.

On my 18th birthday, I decided to apply to university. I thought it was a good way to start adulthood. I should’ve listened to my mother.

The consequence of disobeying her came that same day. The reason we’ve been running all these years was to escape my sadistic, mafia father. His first words to me were: “You showed up at the perfect age to get married. Go get ready to meet your fiancé.”

I had to behave—for the sake of my mother’s safety.

My fiancé was old enough to be my grandfather and looked at me like I was his favorite dessert. But he wasn’t the one who caught my attention. His son did.

Standing beside the man I was promised to… was the man from my dreams, in the flesh—dangerous, tempting, and very real.

All I want now is to find a way to escape, but now that I know he exists, I realize I won’t get very far.

“Sir, the new student got into trouble in class ! They asked you to come !”

I pulled a long face while my Lycan gritted out in my mind.

“That’s our mate, punk !”


Ever had the shock of your life that the man you hate the most on the first day of college is your foxy hot, male professor and surprise, surprise, surprise- your roommate too ?!

Add to it that he does NOT belong to the human world !

Amidst bitter pasts and complicated relationships is the added fear of the Dark Overlord who is hell bent on destroying the entire supernatural world as well as the human world.

Will the roommates get their act together and finally be one with one another ? Will human laws allow the student-teacher relationship to bloom into a satisfying romance ? Will the last surviving Lycan in the human world be able to avenge the death of its pure blood Lycan pack ? And finally will the Lycan race survive at all?

Zoe was never meant to obey. Born to power and raised in chaos, she and her notorious Shadow Gang ruled Diamond Ville with pranks, secrets, and strength. But one explosive mistake lands them in Asheville Academy—a brutal school for the supernatural elite where silver fences bite and trust is a liability.

When Zoe discovers she’s fated to five powerful, unpredictable mates—each from rival packs—the stakes become deadly. Love was never part of the plan. Neither was betrayal.

Now the Shadow Gang must survive training rooms that break bones, enemies who play nice with knives, and a prophecy that could end everything.
Zoe’s heart might not survive five fates. But the world won’t survive what happens if she rejects them.

Witty, wild, and addictive—every encounter with the Alphas is where danger kisses destiny.

"Did you sleep well, little girl?" he asks.
"Who are you? Why am I here?" Feeling a sudden pang of fear, I add, "... Where’s my mate?"
"You came running and attacked me at night, and since you seemed injured and couldn't control your wolf-shape, I defended myself until I managed to knock you out without causing further harm. And you gave me a nice scratch in the process, worth mentioning," he continues, "And was it your mate who attacked you?"
Apprehensively, I repeat the head nod.
He lets out a grunt. "You had bad luck in choosing your mate."
"I didn't choose him. The moon Goddness picked him for me. Don't you see I'm cursed? I'm the child of two Lycans." It feels like the world's weight has crashed down on my shoulders. "Because of it, I've lived as an outcast in Agares my whole life."
Something changes in his expression. His eyes take on a feral gleam. "Agares?"
"Yes."
He snarls the words without looking at me. "That explains a lot...I’m Darius Montarac, Lycan King of Norden, and the Moon Goddess long ago decreed that every she-wolf born from two Lycans should be brought to my kingdom, for one of them would be my Luna."

Alina is a cursed she-wolf who can transform into a large wolf, triggered only by rage and pain.
On her bonding ceremony, her human mate tried to kill her, but she lost control and killed him. When she regained consciousness, she found herself naked, covered only by a man's shirt. This shirt belonged to a lycan who has been in search of his Luna.
As their paths collide, Alina must face a chilling question: is he her second chance… or the final piece in a prophecy that could destroy her?

“…do anything rather than marry without affection.” —Pride and Prejudice   During the upheaval of the Great Depression, Elizabeth Bennet’s life is torn asunder. Her family’s relocation from the bustle of the big city to a quiet family farm has changed her future, and now, she must build a new life in rural Meryton, Kentucky.   William Darcy suffered family turmoil of his own, but he has settled into a peaceful life at Pemberley, the largest farm in the county. Single, rich, and seemingly content, he remains aloof—immune to any woman’s charms.   Until Elizabeth Bennet moves to town.   As Darcy begins to yearn for something he knows is missing, Elizabeth’s circumstances become more dire. Can the two put aside their pride and prejudices long enough to find their way to each other?   1932, Karen M Cox’s award-winning debut novel, is a matchless variation on Jane Austen’s classic tale.

In a world where every living being has a secret name, Kate was born with the ability to see through the magical veil that separates human and fae worlds. Not only that, her body produces too much magic, making her a target for all the creatures who want to take advantage of it. Her family always had problems with this, and they didn't think twice about selling her to the fae's great leader, the Pale King, who showed up on their doorstep and bought her and her younger sister.

For some time, Kate was used as a source of magic for the Pale King, until one day she managed to escape, alone, cursing herself for not being able to bring her sister with her. Pursued during her escape, what she didn't expect was to be saved by a great black dragon who has no wings. He fought off her pursuers and let her go.

Years later, Kate never forgot her sister or her savior. Now she acts as a mercenary, and she wants to find ways to confront the Pale King and get her sister back, even though she fears the girl won't even remember her. But she heard that a great black, wingless dragon will be put up for sale at an auction where magical creatures can be bought with their secret names written on a document of ownership.

Could he be the same dragon who saved her before? Would he help her again? She doesn't know the answers to these questions, but at this point, Kate is willing to obtain him, even if by alternative ways.

Rye: I'm out for revenge. I just saw Lauren Blakewell on national TV. Twelve years after she and her con woman mother scammed my father and ruined our lives, there she was. Looking like a goddess. Engaged to the son of a U.S. senator. She and her evil mother never paid for what they did. But I’ve never forgotten. Now I’m going to DC and I’m out for justice. I’m Rye McAllister, heir to the former McAllister fortune, and I’m going to stand up for my family. Lauren will pay. One way or another, I’ll get her back. Lauren: I’m so close to freedom. So close. One more job, and Bliss will let me go. That’s why the sight of Rye McAllister is such a shock. Not because he was the subject of all my childhood fantasies. Not because he looks like a tough and sexy cowboy now. But because he can ruin everything for me. I have to stop him. Whatever it takes. I have to make him an offer he can’t refuse. A proposition he can’t resist. If I enjoy it too…that’ll be my secret. And I have more secrets than Rye can ever imagine.

I've married sixteen dead men for a living. My seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.
I was born knowing one thing: the dead can speak one last time — but only to a spouse.
So I marry dead men. Rich families pay me to wed their fresh corpses, carry the last words sealed inside me, and read the testament out before the heirs. Then I burn the marriage certificate, and the marriage ends at the grave. Starting price: six hundred thousand dollars.
This morning, the Crane heir drowned in his own pool. Twenty-eight, obscenely rich, not one word left behind. The family offered five million and a private jet. By my count — my seventeenth husband. By a wide margin, the handsomest.
I said "I do" to a corpse for the seventeenth time. Then I called for his last words.
Silence. Sixteen weddings, sixteen voices. Husband number seventeen had nothing to say.
Because my seventeenth husband just opened his eyes.

Eight times. That's how many boyfriends my best friend Sera has "tested" for me. Eight times she's proven they weren't good enough by stealing them away with her perfect smile and fake concern.
"I'm just looking out for you, Lia," she always says. "If he really loved you, he wouldn't be tempted by me."
But this time is different. This time, it's Ryan—my boss, my almost-something, the first man who's ever made me believe I might be worth loving. When Sera comes back to town asking about my love life, I panic and lie. There's no one, I tell her. Nothing happening at all.
Big mistake.
Now she's got her sights set on him, and I'm watching her work her magic all over again. The late-night texts, the red lace lingerie, the hotel room invitation. I should just accept it like I always do. Let her prove once again that I'm not worth fighting for.
But I'm done being the girl who hands over everything she wants. This time, I'm fighting back.

"Baby, lend me Stella for the movie."
When my fiancé Damon said this, I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. My guide dog starring in his Oscar-worthy film—what a perfect love story.
I'm Aria Sinclair, 26-year-old blind film producer with perfect pitch and endless money, but no eyes. So when he said "The press will go crazy for our story," I stupidly agreed.
Three weeks later, in the editing room:
01:47:23—Dull impact.
01:47:31—Familiar whimper.
01:47:35—Silence.
My perfect pitch never lies. That wasn't CGI—that was real impact. Worse, I knew that whimper. That was Stella, my guide dog, my eyes, my most loyal companion.
They killed her. For a goddamn trophy.
On premiere night, when Damon walked the red carpet with a strange German Shepherd, when I touched her paw and found no white star-shaped mark—
"This is not my dog!"
I broke down in front of hundreds of reporters.
"Honey, you're under too much stress," Damon said gently. "Maybe you need rest."
Whispers from the audience: "Poor blind girl..." "She really needs help..."
Just like that, I became the crazy one.
Abandoned by the world.
Betrayed by the man I loved most.
But they made one fatal mistake—they thought stealing my eyes would silence me.
Now it's time to let them hear what despair sounds like...
[Click to watch me destroy them both...]

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

To stop the merfolk from being slaughtered, I went ashore to seduce the boy I grew up with — Lucian Voss, now one of the world's top scientists.
He still had feelings for me. He kept me in his bed for seven days and seven nights, refusing to let go.
I woke from the haze of pleasure to a pair of pliers prying the scales off my back.
Lucian watched me arch in agony, his expression ice-cold.
"Mermaid scales can repair genetic defects. You don't mind sharing a few, do you?"
"After all, what your kind owes me is worth far more than a handful of scales."
Two years. For two years I watched him marry another woman.
He held my kind's lives over my head and forbade me to leave. Every few days, he'd pry the scales from my spine, grind them into powder, and feed them to his new wife Vivienne to strengthen her body.
He shackled my ankles and ordered me to stay up all night washing his bedsheets. I had to kneel outside their bedroom door, motionless, listening to them together until dawn.
When Vivienne got pregnant, she started complaining about the color of the scale powder.
"Honey, these last few have been so dull. Is she running out?"
Lucian glanced at me.
The look on his face — he was counting. Calculating how many scales I had left.
He hated me to the bone, yet every time I nearly passed out from the pain, he was the one who pulled me off the floor. Forced medicine down my throat, fingers clamped around my jaw until I swallowed.
"You're counting on the fact that I still care about you. So tell me — where are my parents?"
I stayed silent and let the contradiction hang there.
It wouldn't matter soon. I wouldn't have to keep that secret much longer.
A mermaid who stays on land for three years without returning to the sea will die. No exceptions.
And I had three days left.

I woke up the morning the contract was due, picked up the pen, and crossed out my own name.
Wrote my sister's instead.
Last time, I packed away every leather jacket I owned and let Stefano Mastroianni's stylist dress me in things that needed dry cleaning. I sat straight at his family dinners and smiled until my face hurt. I let him correct my posture in front of his mother like I was something he hadn't finished training.
I did all of it, and I still ended up in the ground.
So this time I gave him Chiara. Took Pier Nine from my father as the price, and got out.
He thought he was getting his perfect bride.
On the wedding day, he reached for her hands—and felt it immediately. Smooth palms. Not a mark on them. Not the hands of a woman who'd been gripping a steering wheel since she was sixteen.
He pulled the veil up.
Chiara looked back at him, flushed with triumph.
Stefano stripped the Mastroianni ring off her finger in front of every powerful family in the city, kicked over the altar, and put one question through the cathedral walls:
"Where is Tessa."

The night Declan Ashford announces his chosen mate, everyone in the pack expects me to show up and fall apart.
I don't go.
What I do instead: I'm sitting on the floor of Cael Voss's dorm room in a training jacket that isn't mine, asking whether his mattress is filled with rocks. Cael is Declan's packmate at the academy. His equal in rank. His roommate. The last person I had any reason to call tonight.
I called him anyway.
Here's what he doesn't know: I'm not actually Beta. My real rank was sold before I was old enough to understand what that meant. I've been suppressing it for years.
Here's what I don't know: he's had something of mine under his pillow for two years. Something small. Something I spent three days looking for before I gave up.
Neither of us has said anything about it yet.

My roommate put a Blood Binding Curse on me — my own bloodline power, along with every resource I receive, gets automatically rerouted straight to her.
My ex helped her set it up. For six months she lived off my bloodline playing noble princess, him always on her arm, while I walked around hollow. The harder I fought to prove myself, the more I fed her.
Then I died. Came back knowing everything.
Here's what I figured out: the curse reroutes everything I receive.
Including debt.
I went to a guild and borrowed a batch of elixirs. Opened the contract.
The debtor on the line wasn't me.

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

I just got out of prison after three years, and my family wants me to go back in.
"It's only three days," they said. "You survived three years—what's three more days?"
What they don't know: I'm dying. The only thing keeping me alive is my mate bond. Three days away from Everett means death.
For three years in prison, someone sent me food every week. No note, no name. I thought it meant my family still loved me.
I was so grateful.
I didn't know it was my twin sister. I didn't know what was inside.

I spent five years loving Beckett Calloway.
When his ex-girlfriend died saving his life, I held him through every nightmare. When he said he "wasn't ready" for marriage, I waited. When he whispered "soon," I believed him.
Then her sister showed up. Crying about some terminal illness. Begging him to take care of her.
He let her move onto our private island—the one he promised would only ever belong to us.
He introduced her at the gala where he was supposed to announce our engagement.
He got her pregnant.
And when I told him she was lying about everything, he looked at me like I was the monster.
Then came our wedding rehearsal. She walked down the aisle in my dress. He slid his ring onto her finger. The chapel caught fire. I collapsed, bleeding.
He scooped her up and ran. Didn't even glance back.
So I burned my vows, deleted every trace of myself, and vanished.
This time, I wasn't coming back.

There are no unmated males in our pack.
Every she-wolf in Hollowfen is promised to someone when she turns eighteen. We just don't get to know who until we walk into the Choosing Hall.
Girls go in wearing white. They come out flushed, shaking, barely able to stand. Some laugh. Some cry. None of them talk about what happens inside.
My sister Thessaly turned eighteen this spring. Gran told her she couldn't attend the Choosing.
She went anyway. She came back on shaking legs, with blood between her thighs and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face.

I took a bullet for my husband five years ago. He married me in the ICU before the anesthesia wore off.
Raffaele Santoro—heir to the most powerful mafia family in Italy—told me I was his everything. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a grave beside his parents so we'd lie together for eternity.
While I was pumping my body full of hormones for our fourth round of IVF, he was across town watching his childhood sweetheart give birth to twin boys.
He named one of them Dante—the name I'd chosen for our future son.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant with his child.
I didn't tell him.
I called my best friend and said: I need everyone to think I'm dead.

The ultrasound photo caught fire slowly, curling at the edges before the flame swallowed it whole.
I watched it burn in front of my mother's grave.
Eight weeks. That was how far along I had been.
Three days ago, on the anniversary of her death, I came here to talk to her. To tell her she was going to be a grandmother.
Instead, I found my husband fucking his ex-girlfriend against the oak tree twenty feet from her headstone.
I lost the baby that night.

My husband never wore condoms with me. Said they ruined it for him. So I swallowed birth control pills for four years until they made me sick.
Then I found a half-empty box in his glove compartment. And a thong under his backseat.
That wasn't even the worst part.
The necklace I'd made from my mother's ashes—the one I'd been grieving over losing for a year—was dangling between his twenty-three-year-old trainee's tits. He stole it from our bedroom and gave it to her.
She caught me staring. She smiled.
When I confronted him, he slapped me. Then drove off with her crying in his passenger seat.
Her friends came to my hospital with a livestream, demanding I apologize for "bullying" her.
I led them straight to the parking garage.
They found her on a stretcher. Legs wrapped around my husband. No condom.
The whole internet watched.

After the wedding, my husband moved his dead fiancée's mother into our guest room. The whole town called it the kindest thing they'd ever seen.
Every morning, Dione made me a green smoothie. Her grandmother's recipe, she said. Good for the nerves.
I never drank a single one. I poured them all into the chicken feed.
In my last life, I drank them. One a day, for thirty days.
Then I started losing time. I would blink at breakfast and come back at dinner. I found notes in my own handwriting that I never wrote.
I begged Julian to take me to a doctor. He held my shoulders and smiled. "You're just tired, baby. Drink your smoothie."
On the thirtieth night, I fell asleep in my own bed, in my own body.
I never woke up. Someone else did.
This time, every glass went to Nugget, the smallest of my backyard hens.
And one night, a hen crowed in my backyard.
Hens don't crow. And we don't have a rooster.

In my last life, my boyfriend's childhood best friend handed out jars of homemade sunscreen on the boat ride to the island. I'm a marine bio major — one sniff and I knew the mix had something in it that could drive the island's feral hogs into a frenzy. I told everyone to throw them out.
They did. But Brynn didn't look at the group. She looked at me. Eyes red, jaw tight. "You just can't stand seeing people appreciate anything I do, can you?" She turned and ran into the woods alone.
We searched for her all night in a storm. By morning we found her body at the bottom of the cliffs.
A week later, at her memorial bonfire on the beach, every person who'd gotten hurt during the search turned on me. My boyfriend ripped off his bandage and showed his stitches. "If you hadn't humiliated Brynn in front of everyone, she'd still be alive."
Someone said I should burn for what I did to her.
Then hands on my back. The fire. I burned alive on the sand while seventeen people watched.
I opened my eyes. Salt air. Engine noise. I was back on the boat — the morning of the trip.

My brother Soren is a figure skating prodigy. Every dollar in our house, every hour, every scrap of attention — all his.
Me? I'm the kid who doesn't need to be seen.
The night before Nationals, I told my mom my stomach hurt so bad I could barely stand. She said I was making trouble. Dad told me to take a painkiller and tough it out. Then they loaded up the car and drove two hundred miles to watch Soren skate.
They didn't come home until Sunday night. By then, I'd been dead for over a day.
I called her. Again and again. She had her phone on airplane mode.
Now I'm a ghost, drifting behind their car on the highway home. They're laughing, complaining I didn't even text Soren a congratulations.
I wonder what their faces will look like when they walk through that door.

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

My daughter died on her fifth birthday.
Her first real wish—the first one she was old enough to make herself—was to go to the beach with Daddy.
Gideon promised he would take her.
She waited for him all day. She was still asking for him when she took her last breath.
He never came.
I brought her ashes to the beach she'd always dreamed of. Let her finally see the ocean.
That's when I heard it—a woman's moan, low and breathy, coming from behind the rocks.
Then his voice. Then his name on her lips.
"Between me and Lily, who do you love more?"
"You. Obviously."
He was fucking his mistress on our daughter's dream beach—while I stood there holding her ashes.
When I finally confronted them, I didn't get an apology. I got a slap across the face.
And when his mistress caught my eye and smiled, I realized something.
She knew exactly when my daughter would die.

I was a scholarship student with thirty extra pounds. Del Ashford had two hundred thousand followers and her family's supplement brand on every wall of the athletic center. First week of school, she decided we were going to be best friends.
She said she wanted to help me get in shape. What that actually looked like: I carried her product shipments up three flights of stairs, drafted her emails, and picked up her lunch from the place across campus that didn't deliver.
My roommates started calling me her errand girl behind my back. I let them.
She also introduced me to Beckett Hale. After that, things went the way they went.
She knocked my protein shake over and said I'd burned her. She planted her limited-edition earphones in my bag and told everyone I'd stolen them. The school opened a conduct review. My roommates stopped talking to me.

Beckett said I was the kind of girl who got a little attention and started thinking she deserved more of it.
I couldn't prove any of it. By spring, I was gone.
Some people just aren't built for this, Wren. You know that, right?
Del hadn't even been looking at me when she said it.
Then I opened my eyes and I was back at the party. The night she introduced me to Beckett.

The idea came from Cora.
She ran into the kitchen while I was making dinner, wrapped both arms around my waist, and looked up at me.
"Mommy, can we go to Grandma Ellen's? Just us two? Just us girls?"
"Why?" I asked.
She thought about it, very serious. "Because every time I wake up and you're not home, I miss you. Even when Daddy's there, it's different." A pause. "Grandma Ellen probably misses you just as much as I do."
Reid was leaning in the doorway. He smiled at me—that easy, certain smile—and said, "She's not wrong. You've been running on empty for months. Take the trip. I've got everything covered."
The flights were booked before I finished washing the dishes.
I should have noticed how fast that was.
The call I made the night before we flew home changed everything. I thought I'd hung up.
I hadn't.

In my last life, I fell for every word out of Ryan's mouth.
To save his shot at attending physician, I volunteered to take the fall for his medical malpractice case.
My license was revoked. I went from being a surgeon to being a housewife trapped in his family's home, wasting ten years of my life chained to a kitchen stove.
I thought my sacrifice would earn me his gratitude for the rest of our lives.
Turns out, he'd been sleeping with that doe-eyed little nurse, Lily, for God knows how long.
When years of exhaustion finally caught up with me and my heart gave out, I collapsed on the freezing basement floor.
My husband Ryan was upstairs, arms wrapped around Lily, sleeping in the master bedroom we'd bought with my dowry.
"That bitch is finally kicking the bucket. Once she croaks, this house is ours."

Last time, I was the first student to walk out of the SAT.
A news crew was waiting by the doors. The camera found my face, and I made one bored little joke — the test was too easy, I'd rather be surfing in Miami. By midnight the clip had two million likes, and my whole life had a price tag on it.
An agency came knocking within the week. My parents signed the contract before I understood what I was signing away, and they pulled me out of school. I stopped being a person and became their product.
And Mia — my best friend, the girl who cried at my locker and braided my hair before exams — Mia copied my notes, rode them into Yale, and smiled into the cameras while she told the internet I'd slept my way through high school.
By the time the agency had wrung me dry, I had nothing left. No school. No name worth defending. Not one person who believed a word out of my mouth.
The night it ended, Mia came up to the roof to "talk." She said she would never forgive me for being the lucky one. Then she put both hands flat on my chest and pushed.
The last thing I saw was her face, smiling down at me over the edge.
Then I blinked — and I was back in the testing room.

My boss and I had one night. A mistake—or so I told myself, right up until I found a file in his office with my photo labeled "Potential Breeder," tucked inside a folder marked Pack Hierarchy. Same night the pregnancy test came back positive.
His eyes were glowing gold when he walked in.
I ran before sunrise. New name, new city, a life built from nothing.
Five years later, my son stops aggressive dogs in midair with his bare hands. He wakes up at 3 AM telling me someone is coming before the car even turns onto our street. His eyes flash gold when he's angry, and his voice makes grown men step back without knowing why.
The most powerful werewolf in the western territories has been looking for us for five years.
He just found our street.

My neighbor Beck Morrow was the best high school point guard this state had seen in years.
The night before the state championship—three college scouts in the stands—he decided to stay home with his girlfriend instead. She wasn't feeling well.
I called his coach.
He played. He got the scholarship. He built a company worth eight figures before he turned thirty, and I spent five years writing every algorithm that company ran on.
He repaid me by throwing a ball at my head during a training session. Then his lawyers sent a letter explaining that I had no legal claim to any intellectual property developed under my employment contract, effective immediately, and that my position was being terminated.
Then I woke up. It was the first week of senior year again.

My mother only ever made the bedtime tea for me. Never my brother—just me, every night, because I was the gifted one, the daughter she "worried about."
The night before the scholarship exam, my one shot at college, she brought me a cup like always.
The next day I collapsed in the middle of the test. I'd never been sick a day in my life. I failed.
Don't worry, she said. We'll try again next year. And every single night, she kept making me that tea.
Second year, I went down again. Third year, again. Three times I sat that exam, three times my body quit at the worst possible moment.
The whole town started calling me the girl who faints. The genius who cracks. The family joke.
And my brother—who copied my homework and never read a book to the end—somehow walked away with everything.
I never understood why my body fell apart every time it mattered.
This was my last chance. For days I barely ate, terrified it would happen again.
Then, the night before the exam, my mother walked in with a cup of tea…

On our wedding night, my husband wanted to play a game.
Trade secrets. The kind that could destroy you if they ever got out.
He went first.
"I hurt a girl once. At a ski lodge. She shouldn't have been in that room. But she was."
He said it like a parking ticket. Then he took a sip of whiskey and moved on.
My turn.
"I killed someone," I said. "Do you believe me?"
He laughed. He thought I was joking.
He really shouldn't have kissed me after that.

At last season's Grand Olfactory Gala, Vivienne Harrow presented my formula before I could reach the stage.
I confronted her. She asked where my proof was.
I had nothing. The formula had never left my head — no notes, no records, nothing. I didn't know how she'd gotten it.
I died not knowing.
Then I opened my eyes, and she was already reaching for me.
"Not this time."
I stepped back.

Ethan Calloway and I had been together for eight years. Married for three—or so everyone thought.
We had the ceremony. The hospital chapel, the white dress, his boss giving a toast. But we never made it to City Hall to sign the papers. He promised we would. Eighteen times.
Every time, something came up. Or rather, someone came up—his young protégée, Chloe. She needed him at the hospital. She needed him at the conference. She needed him at dinner.
I drank on his behalf at every work function. I wrote the surgical plans he presented as his own. I waited in an empty apartment while he drove her home.
The nineteenth time he tried to reschedule, I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I just booked a one-way ticket to the one city he'd never follow me to.
He made eighteen promises. I only needed to break one.

At four, they shattered both my legs. At six, they ruptured my left eardrum. At seven, they took my right eye—said I'd earn more sympathy begging blind.
After twelve years in hell, my billionaire parents finally found me.
The girl who stole my life grabbed my wrist, nails digging into my skin. "Dare take what's mine, and I'll break whatever's left of your legs."
I smiled, unclipping both prosthetics to show empty pant legs. "I don't have legs left."
She was terrified.

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.

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…