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I am the sole heir to the Hartwell fortune.
But this birthday dinner — the one meant to sign the family trust into my hands on my twenty-second year — was being ruined by the housekeeper's daughter.
Brianna had done it on purpose. She'd stolen the archival couture gown my late mother left behind, then thrown herself into the champagne tower and pinned it on me.
"Oh God, Audrey, why did you push me...

I used to be the executive chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in New York. Then I worked in my son’s kitchen for three years without being paid a cent.

I sold my old house in Brooklyn to cover the restaurant’s startup costs. I even used my retirement savings to pay for the restaurant’s premium ingredients.

That night, I prepared an entire dinner for eighty guests by myself. By the time I f...

On my first day at St. Clair University, my roommate Lysandra laughed at me in French.

Wrapped in designer logos, she called me a nobody who did not even recognize luxury perfume.

She thought I could not understand her.

She was wrong. French was my first language.

I was also Iris Russell, the hidden heir to the Russell Group.

But I kept that to myself.

Then Lysandra set me up at a Michelin-s...

All I wanted was a quiet place to live. I drained my savings and paid eighty thousand extra for the one unit on the row with a private backyard.
On my very first day, I found my neighbor's son beating my new hydrangeas with a stick while his mother stood there filming him and laughing.
Bianca says the yard belongs to everybody. Her husband is vice president of the HOA board, so around here, whatev...

Brent Hale gave me one night to save the company’s worst-performing livestream—or lose my job with everyone else in Studio Three.
I wanted the severance package.
So I ignored the script, exposed every product flaw, and told viewers exactly what not to buy.
By the time my boss tried to cut the feed, the chat was threatening to riot—and half our inventory was already gone.

"Sign the Brooklyn house over to Isla. I'll cover your tuition next semester."

Gabriel didn't look up. Just sat there in his leather chair like he was doing me a favor.

My mother grabbed my sleeve. "She has depression, Rachel. She just needs a studio. Why are you making this so hard?"

I looked at her, then at him. That house was the only thing my father left me when he died. The only thing. And...

The night I collapsed at my desk from acute appendicitis, my husband’s phone rang thirty-seven times. He didn't answer a single one.
When he finally strolled into my hospital room the next day, his excuse was that he had been entertaining clients all night and his phone was on silent.
"A multi-million dollar contract versus a minor surgery—which do you think is more important?" Nathan asked, adjus...

Alpha Ethan once told me that he wouldn't mark any Omega other than me. I was the Moon Shade Pack's future Luna.
I believed him, until he actually marked someone else—his childhood neighbor.
I confronted him, and he laughed, saying, “It was just a childhood joke, I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”
But when that so-called "joke" turned into a wedding vow, I realized that from the very beginni...

My husband and I've been married for three years, and he's been messing around with her the entire time.

Hugging and kissing her on set, whispering flirty lines in interviews.

Everyone online calls me a pathetic stand-in.

I never get mad. I just smile and help him smooth over every rumor.

That is, until I accidentally got pregnant and secretly had an abortion.

He was furious, his heart shatte...

In my past life, when I eagerly handed my ultrasound to my gentle doctor husband, I didn't get a warm embrace. I got a scalpel. Without anesthesia.

The man I loved dragged me into a pitch-black basement to butcher me alive. My once-doting mother called me a filthy whore, treating me like a sickening stain on the family. My fiercely protective brother pinned me to a metal workbench, offering me u...

You know you're getting cheated on when your strictly private husband accidentally goes live on Instagram at midnight.

The camera showed Chloe—the newest streamer signed to his company—wearing cute fluffy ears, blushing under the neon lights of a late-night gastro-pub. Ethan's voice boomed in the background, laughing softly: "Look at this cute little foodie."

In five years of marriage, I had nev...

My childhood friend was a tech prodigy.

To comfort his influencer girlfriend who was suffering from period cramps, he wanted to forfeit the National Hackathon we had spent the entire year preparing for.

I tipped off his father.

Consequently, he was dragged to the competition, won first place, and secured a straight path to Stanford.

Years later, his startup succeeded, making him a ...

At the Jones family’s political marriage gala, the New York mafia’s most public “celebration”, I, Isabella Rossi, who was a bargaining chip, had been Donovan Jones’s wife for five years.
He was the world’s top perfumer, the kind of man who could coax a scent from his fingertips that made people go mad-and yet, to him, I was a flower with no fragrance at all.
Five years of this marriage, and he had...

"Someone is right behind you."
It's the most common comment I get in the chat during my late-night streams.
But when that exact phrase abruptly hijacked my screen, spammed in bold, blood-red letters, my blood ran completely cold.
Because deep down, I knew. This time, they weren't joking.
It was real.

I've run a pet rescue shop for five years. I've lost count of the animals I've saved. Around the neighborhood, people call me the good Samaritan of Main Street. My husband, Adam Carter, and I have been married five years, and he's always been gentle and attentive.

It's a rainy night in late fall, and I come across an injured starling in the alley on my way home, its wing broken.

The second I sco...

My sister walked onstage wearing the medal for my stolen research.
Ethan stood beside her and mouthed, Don’t ruin this.
Last time, I listened. I lost my scholarship, my housing, my lab, and the only archive my mother left behind.

This time, I held up the U drive with the original files.
“If Sophie built it,” I said, “let her run the raw data.”

My Sister Wore My Medal

To buy gold for my boyfriend whom I was supporting,
I resorted to doing borderline live streams to earn money.
The price of gold soared,
But his demand for it showed no signs of decreasing.
It was only then that I found out the "pumpkin porridge" he drank every day
Was actually made of gold.
He had a pica for gold.
I treated him so well,
But he cheated on me with my boss.
I wanted to leave, but he...

My husband and I couldn’t get pregnant after we got married, and we really wanted a baby of our own,

We tried IVF, and after three failed rounds I finally got pregnant,

But then my husband and my parents suddenly started pressuring me to get an abortion...

The more I cry, the hornier my sister gets.

Not a metaphor. Stone cold reality. Me and pop superstar Melody share a sick "emotional link" — the worse I suffer, the more she glows on stage.

My husband Christian discovered this secret.

Then he chose to betray me and crawl into bed with Melody.

Now every time Melody has a big show, Christian locks me in the basement, force-feeds me depression pil...

In my last life, my brother broke my legs and my adopted sister pushed me into the ocean. My father just stood there watching, mad about the blood on his shoes.
They gave her everything that was mine. My territory, my mother's necklace, even my bedroom. I was the real daughter, the real bloodline, and I still wasn't worth half of the stray my father dragged home.
I took it all. Every insult, every...