4834 Book(s) Related to my cheating mate regretted it when i chose someone else

The folder slid across the table toward Hannah's husband. Sign here. Family helps family.

What the Whitfields never once thought to wonder was that the quiet daughter-in-law they'd spent four years bleeding had almost three million dollars they couldn't see.

She'd hidden it for one reason: to keep the only good man in that family from being turned into their wallet.

Now they wanted his signature. His house. His name on their debt.

They had spent a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

They were about to learn what that costs.

I die a miserable death in the dungeon, drained of three hundred years of pure blood. I owe it all to Elena and my ridiculously biased clan.

In my previous life, I am the Chief Executioner of the Night Abyss clan. During our hunt for the Alpha Wolf, she drops her weapon and throws herself into Lucas's arms, playing the helpless victim.

I take the beast's attack head-on and suffer severe injuries. The other knights just shield her, turning around to accuse me of being petty and jealous.

Prince Marcus blatantly favors his illegitimate daughter, Elena. He snatches my magic core, constantly puts me down, and even rips the core out of my loyal wolf familiar, Fenrir. In the end, he drains my blood dry just to feed her.

Now that I am reborn, I return to the exact night we hunt the high-tier Alpha Wolf.

I came across a viral local post while scrolling through my phone.

LIVE: My fiancée is cheating on me. I’m in her house right now. Should I end her for good?

When I tapped into the post, what I read made the blood in my veins turn to ice in an instant.

I put a monitoring app on her phone. I’ve been listening for almost two weeks, and every single day she’s on the line with some random guy, flirting and talking dirty. She says yes to marrying me to my face, but she’s been cuckolding me behind my back. Tell me, bros—does this bitch deserve to die?

The comment section below had completely spiraled out of control. Hundreds of replies were all outright egging him on, not a single person telling him to stop. Every line oozed with the vicious glee of people who lived for drama and cared nothing for the consequences.

Hell yeah she does. You got cucked this hard, why keep her around?
Bro, stop all talk and no action. Go live, we’ll send you gifts. Rape her first, then kill her if you’ve got the balls.
You in Haicheng? Drop the address. Me and the boys will come over and help you out. My fists are itching for a fight anyway.
Pfft, and I thought you were tough. You’re already in her house and still dragging your feet? I bet you don’t even have the guts to kill a dog.

My fingers were shaking violently. Driven by a sick, twisting dread, I tapped into the poster’s profile—and with just one glance, every hair on my body stood on end.

This account belonged to Xiao Ming, the blind date my relatives had forced on me when I went home for the Lunar New Year.

His entire profile was filled with posts about me, spanning a full two weeks, starting the very day we’d met for that blind date.

He’d taken secret photos of me, paired with captions full of disgusting, delusional ramblings:

My fiancée went on a date with me today. She wore a white blouse with the neckline open so low, it’s obvious she was trying to seduce me.
She told me she works the front desk at a hotel. That’s her way of hinting I should take her to a room for the night. All women say one thing and mean another.
She says she has a boyfriend, but it’s just playing hard to get. She’s been dying to marry me this whole time.

But I’d said it loud and clear, right in front of the matchmaker, on the very day of that blind date: I’d been in a committed relationship with my boyfriend for three years.

That blind date was nothing more than a way to appease my family. I’d been polite but distant the entire time, and I hadn’t even accepted a single glass of water from him.

As for that nonsense about a hotel room? It was complete and utter garbage. I’d only casually mentioned that my job was working the front desk at a hotel, nothing more.

Just as a bone-deep chill washed over me, the post refreshed. A new line had been added to the main post, timestamped just three seconds earlier:

Truth is, I’m hiding in her house right now. She’s lying in bed scrolling through her phone, and she has no idea she’s already dead meat.

The very second that line finished loading, a clear, soft rustle of fabric came from the wardrobe right behind me.

My biggest regret? Trusting my husband with my mother's life.

The day the mudslide hit, I was on my knees. Begging him to send a helicopter.

He told me to wait. Twenty minutes. But when the helicopter came, it went for his adoptive sister Vivian instead.

I held my mother in the ruins. Her body was shutting down. I waited. Waited until she went cold in my arms.

When he finally showed up at the hospital, the first thing he said? Accused me of faking it. Said I just wanted attention.

In that moment, my heart died too.

Later, I found out Vivian wasn't even sick.

She said "I don't feel well"—that's all it took. And he left my mother and me to die.

Called me a lunatic. In front of everyone. All for her.

I was ready to leave. For good. Then someone shattered my mother's ashes.

I thought my husband was my salvation.
Until I overheard him in the wine cellar, laughing and joking with my "attackers" from that night.
The gang rape that destroyed me was a show he orchestrated himself.

He married me only for inheritance rights.
He humiliated me, branded me, took away my child, and made my life a living hell.
But he forgot one thing—
The ancient blood oath of the Corleone family states clearly:
If a husband betrays his marriage, everything he owns shall belong to his wife.

This time, I'm no longer the rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
This time, I write the ending.

I died on the fourth night after Thanksgiving.
A blizzard had swallowed the entire town, and I was locked in an unheated attic.
My broken leg had turned black with infection. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. I tore four fingernails from their beds, but I still couldn’t claw my way through the door.
With the last of my strength, I held my old iPad against the frost-covered window.
On the screen, my twin sister, Lily, stood beneath the Alps, rosy-cheeked and healthy, raising a crystal glass. Our parents stood on either side of her.
My life was beating inside her chest.
The caption read: [Just the three of us. Finally, some peace.]
A single tear slipped into my hair.
I closed my eyes.
I had traded my life for hers.
Now it was time for them to learn how much that life had cost.

My sister and I both married the wrong men in our past lives. I was bound to an overbearing Lycan Duke, who saw me as nothing more than a vessel for his heir. I ultimately lost my life in childbirth. My sister wed a frivolous Fae Prince, hounded and tormented by his countless mistresses until she was driven to take her own life.
Reborn before our weddings, we bravely choose to swap our marriage contracts, determined to break free from our cruel fates. This time, we rewrite our stories and grasp the our happy lives .

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

With five days left before I was to leave the Black-Fig Pack and marry into the Pear Pack, I packed away everything Kael Thorne had ever left behind.
For five years, I had cherished his lost cufflinks, dried wildflowers he casually picked, and even a used handkerchief.
Now, they meant nothing to me.
I remembered every rejection and every scar he gave me, but I had completely lost the feeling of loving him. It was as if the Moon Goddess herself had severed the bond in my soul.
Kael thought I was just playing hard to get. He didn't know I had already chosen a new life—and that I would never return.

To protect my older sister's piano championship, my own brother crushed all ten of my fingers.
To win my sister's favor, my fiancé hired someone to kick the baby out of me.
After surviving a fire that nearly killed me, I finally woke up.
And when I returned, I blasted the hard proof of their affair and their schemes all over the internet. As I watched them lose their minds, lose everything, and drop to their knees begging for mercy, I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and claimed the top of the world!

For three years I played the perfect fiancée to the most dangerous Alpha in the city.
I walked on tiptoe because he hated noise. I taught myself to cook meat the way wolves like it. I messaged him every night he didn't come home, and most nights he didn't.
I did it because the Sacred Spring said I was his fated mate, and a human with no magic doesn't survive here without one.
Then the Temple sent me a notice. The old reading was an error. Our true match rating is zero. The bond is void as of today, and they wish me all the best.
Honestly? I was relieved. I dumped his dinner in the trash, dragged my suitcase out from under the bed, and wrote him an IOU for three years of rent.
Then Kael came home early.
He looked at the empty plate. He looked at the suitcase. And the coldest Alpha in the city stepped into the doorway so I couldn't get past him.
"Who told you our match rating was zero?"
"And who told you that you were free to walk out on me?"

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

A hormonal condition pushed my weight to two hundred pounds, and for three years, this boarding school made sure I never forgot it.

The ringleader was the guy every girl worshipped.

And beside him stood his girlfriend, the one who always stepped in at my worst moments with a soft voice and a sympathetic look, like she was doing me a favor.

Everyone called her an angel. Only I knew the truth: every time she "helped," things got worse.

One day, she handed me a candy in front of everyone. "Here. Something sweet always helps."

I didn't feel like I had a choice.

That night, a demon showed up at the foot of my bed.

"Congratulations. You ate the pact candy. I'll grant you three wishes — money, beauty, lifespan. You name it, I'll make it happen."

My whole body shook. Three years of humiliation, and finally there was a way out. Wealth, beauty, revenge. All I had to do was ask.

Then the demon's expression shifted, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"There's a catch, though. The real pact-holder is someone else. Whatever you wish for, the one who gave you that candy gets double."

The words I was about to say died in my throat.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

Double?

That's way more interesting than three wishes.

Five years in hell, my beloved and best friend joined hands to push me into the abyss. The savior I trusted was actually a deadly fraud. Reborn from despair, Vito came through the light. I tore apart the scumbag and the evil woman, settled all debts, broke free from the shadow, stepped into the light, and lived the rest of my life only for myself.

When I was six, my father and his mistress drove my mother to jump to her death. Suicide is a sin, and the Church said her soul could not enter Heaven. So I set out to save her the only way I could: with my Rh-null "golden blood," I worked ninety-nine miracles of life.

Then came the hundredth call. The hospital needed me to save my father's illegitimate son.

One of my employees went online and dragged me, claiming I'm making them sacrifice their health for a paycheck and forcing everyone to work over Thanksgiving.

Here's what actually happened. My company gives nine days off for Thanksgiving. Volunteer to work overtime, get triple pay, with a $500 daily meal stipend and a $5,000 bonus. No one gets penalized for not working.

The whole internet's tearing into me for making employees sell their lives for cash. So I give her exactly what she wants and send out a company-wide notice:

To protect employee mental health, the building gets locked and the power gets cut over Thanksgiving. No one is allowed to work for any reason. Anyone who does gets fired.

The minute that email goes out, the employees who were counting on overtime to pay their mortgages lose it. Now they're all crowded outside the building, begging me to open the doors.

"Forty dollars. That's all the inhaler I needed to breathe cost. But in our house, nothing comes easy. 'Fairness first. Roll the dice — highest number wins.' I've rolled my whole life. I've never won. Not once. Tonight, lungs burning, vision blurring, I rolled for my medicine money against my sister. She got a six. I got a two. 'You lost, Hazel. Now go to the attic and think about your selfishness.' The door locked behind me. My chest is closing up. And no one is coming to check."

For nine years, I lived as my twin sister’s replacement Luna. I raised her pup as if she were my own. I treated that man as my fated mate. What I got in return was the Pack that unanimously decided I was the monster who “killed Edna”, and the sinner Ann swore should go to hell.
At Ann’s birthday banquet, I accidentally knocked over a framed photo. Ann shoved me in front of a room full of Alphas and elders, drenching me in red wine, smiling as she said I wasn’t worthy of touching anything of the House.
I thought that if I endured nine years, I could finally leave. Then Eric suddenly changed his mind.
Ann stuffed the corpse of the little bird I’d been raising into a gift box and threatened me with a sweet smile. “You’re the next.”
When I dragged my suitcase to the door, she shifted to wolf in front of everyone, slammed me to the ground, her fangs pressed against my throat.
What they didn’t expect was that my real backer had returned, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, my biological father, David.

I was reborn on the very night George White—Don of the White family—was drugged and lost his mind to pure, animal lust.
This time, I didn't offer myself as the cure.
Instead, I gave him the woman he truly wanted. My sister.

In my past life, I fell in love with the Don of the White family. George.
When I learned he'd been drugged—stripped of every shred of reason—I made the choice I could never take back.
I didn't push him away. A month later, I was pregnant.
The family council forced him to marry me. For the heir. For the name. For everything except love.
On the morning of our wedding, my sister Leah couldn't bear it. She fled the estate alone.
That night, a rival family's killers found her.
Before she died, she called George ninety-nine times.
But George was at my wedding. The wedding I had begged for. So he never answered. Not once.

"I want to know," Marissa said, one hand resting on her stomach, her smile dripping with triumph, "if you'll be here to watch me give Bryce the child you never could."
Rachel's world shattered.
For three years, she had been the perfect Mrs. Voss, gentle, obedient, and endlessly devoted. She believed love could soften Bryce's cold heart... until he walked in with his pregnant mistress and erased her without a second thought.
Declared infertile. Branded a burden. Cast aside like she meant nothing.
When Bryce demanded a divorce, Rachel asked for just fourteen days. Fourteen days to hold onto the life she had built, to pretend her marriage hadn't already died.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't care.
But the moment she hit rock bottom, another man stepped in.
"A contract marriage," he said, his gaze dark with intent. "One year. You become my wife... and I'll make him beg for the woman he threw away."
Dangerous. Ruthless. A man who doesn't love, only claims.
"Unlike Bryce," he murmured, stepping closer, "I don't discard what belongs to me."
This time, Rachel won't beg to be chosen.
She'll rise. She'll take everything they stripped from her. And she'll become a woman Bryce Voss can never touch again.
So when he finally realizes the truth... when he's the one begging at her feet...
Will she walk away or make him suffer the way he made her break?

When The Wrong One Loves You Right
Enemies make the best lovers...

Evelyn Rodriguez needs to find who murdered her sister. But her only suspect is sexy as hell and every kind of wrong. Suddenly Evelyn's not sure if it's determination that's got her pulse racing–or something altogether less appropriate. Worse of all, she has to live under the same roof with him.

Supernova Jason Lyndon, burnt by experience and casual flings is torn between taking the offer of the man he despises the most or the woman that annoys him the most. Either way, he wasn't about to go to jail for something he didn't do. He realized too late chosing Evelyn's offer was a terrible idea. She didn't only arouse all his sexual antennas but started pulling down the firm wall– he's spent years building– around his heart.

CRIME. SUSPENSE. ROMANCE.

Elliot, a shy bookworm and constant target for bullies, finds themselves trapped on the abandoned field after school—again. But this time, the star football captain, Jamie, appears like a hero, driving the bullies away. As Jamie stands protectively by their side, two worlds collide: the quiet, introverted world of Elliot and the loud, popular world of Jamie.

Despite their differences, a spark ignites between them. But navigating their feelings isn’t easy. With jealous teammates, judgmental classmates, and Elliot’s own insecurities standing in their way, their budding romance faces countless challenges. Can love bridge the gap between their two worlds, or will the pressure tear them apart?

Three years into our marriage, I believed I had married the man who loved me more than anyone in the world—until an explicit photo of a woman went viral.
The woman in the picture had my exact face.
Everyone was convinced I was the one who had cheated.
And my husband, Jarek, didn’t defend me. Instead, he pushed me straight into the court of public opinion, silently allowing everyone to believe I was the one who had betrayed our marriage.
Until I caught him with that woman in our bedroom.
Her name was Sabrina.
She was my identical twin sister.
That was when I finally realized that our entire three-year marriage had been a lie.
He had never loved me.
I was nothing more than a replacement for her—the woman he had lost and gone looking for.
And the cruelest part?
Even when I was carrying his child, even when he left me broken and bleeding, he still chose her.
I lost the baby.
And whatever love I had left for him died with it.
I filed for divorce.
He refused to let me go.

My husband Lucius said: 'My real wife has returned.'
To keep him, for a month I clung to him, making love passionately...

When her father fled with his mistress, leaving crushing debts behind, Freya Gilbert had nowhere to turn. Crashing Alpha Jonas's welcome ceremony in desperation, she never expected to find her fated mate there. But it wasn't gentle Jonas who made her wolf howl "mate." It was the dangerous, devastatingly powerful Niklaus Lockwood.
One scorching night of passion sealed her fate.
Niklaus already had his perfect chosen mate, the elegant Rebekah. Unwilling to abandon his plans, he offered Freya a cold business deal: be his contract Luna for three years, play the perfect wife in public, and he'd clear her debts. When their arrangement expired, she'd accept his rejection and disappear quietly.
Freya thought she could survive a loveless marriage. She was wrong.
Three years later, she's fallen hopelessly for the Alpha who sees her as nothing more than a gold-digging Omega. On their anniversary night, the very day their contract expires, Niklaus chooses Rebekah.
The message couldn't be clearer.
But when Freya files for divorce and moves out first, Niklaus's carefully controlled world shatters. The mate bond he's suppressed for years, and he never expected his obedient, compliant wife to actually leave him.
"I, Freya Gilbert, reject you, Niklaus Lockwood."
The words that should have set them both free only ignite a fire that threatens to consume them both.
Can a love born from a business contract survive the flames of pride and betrayal? Or will the most powerful Alpha in the territory lose his true mate because he was too blind to see what was right in front of him?
When the contract ends, the real battle for love begins.

"Mommy, I don't need a daddy. Having you is enough."

When I heard my daughter say those words, I nearly broke down in tears.

Five years ago, an accident left me pregnant with twins. My father seized everything my mother had left behind and threw me out of the house. After I gave birth, he told me my son had died, leaving only my daughter Luna by my side.

For Luna's sake, I was forced to marry a man I'd never met—a husband in a vegetative state—and spent three years in France.

Three years later, I returned to Bay Harbor, only to be betrayed by my own father once again. While fleeing, I stumbled by mistake into the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel, where I spent the night with a mysterious man confined to a wheelchair.

The next morning, I left in a panic, convinced it was just another accident in my chaotic life.

Until later, when I took a job with the wealthy Stone family and met a quiet, withdrawn little boy named Cal—a child who seemed forgotten by the entire world.

I don't know why, but the moment I saw him, my heart ached inexplicably.

And at the same time, the man I had "taken advantage of" that night began closing in on the truth, determined to find me...

"Ssshh. You made me cum twice already. I’m not leaving you untouched. I want to taste you, suck you, feel every inch of you deep inside me.”

“Fuck,” Valtor growled, a deep velvety rumble that sent a pulse of heat throbbing through my wet pussy. “Who the hell taught you to talk like that?”

No one. I never dirty-talked with Kallias. These words came purely after the fire Valtor ignited in me.


I was the happiest woman alive until my husband and my maid betrayed me in one night.

Now I am no longer the good Luna they once expected me to be, but a wounded woman burning with vengeance. I am willing to give anything, do anything, even if it means striking a dangerous bargain with Valtor North, the handsome Rogue King whose reputation makes every Alpha tremble in fear.

But fate made its twist again. An unexpected mad attraction rose between me and the man I should hate, the sworn enemy of my kind. The Rogue King.

Torn between duty and desire, I face the ultimate battle. Can I survive the storm or will it consume me whole?

"Aspen" I hear someone whisper from faraway. I ignore it and just pass it off as the wind since I left my window open last night.

"Aspen" I hear again except it's louder this time. I ignore it again.

A couple of minutes later a sweet smell fills my nostrils. It reminds me of pineapples and vanilla.

"If you don't wake up, I'm going to burn your favorite book" I hear a familiar voice say which causes my eyes to snap open as I jolt up in bed so that I'm facing my best friend

Warning: This novel have matured contents +18

Me and you. Come on let's play. "She said".

Um, okay, sure," I said, "but what do we do if one of us refuses to answer truth, or do a dare?"

"Then," smiled vicky, "A different truth or dare is given, and that one has to be done, no matter what."

"Ok Deal," I said.

"Truth or Dare?" she asked.

"Truth," I said.

"What's your honest opinion of those pics you saw, of me?" She gave me a look of pure curiosity, which only made me laugh a little.

"They were very hot," I said. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," she said, smiling at my comment.

"Is it just me, or are you not wearing panties?" I said, more to tease her about it, than I was curious.

"Yeah, I'm not," she said. "Actually, I'm surprised you noticed. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," I said.

"I dare you to take off your shirt," she said.

So, thats how it started. I don't know why, but her mission is to find any means to have me for herself not minding what it will result to. Though she later had me and even got pregnant for me., but what happened after that is was you won't expect.

The Mass Awakening resulted in transforming the entire Earth into a server of a cosmic game. Which was taking place on October 27, 2026. Even as humanity was scrambling to be Level 1 Warriors and Mages, Alex, a burnt-out cybersecurity expert that was based in Lagos, was witnessing something different: The Source Code.

The Twist:
Alex is presented with the [Admin Interface] aka system screen, which is a glitched class that enables him to see the reality in the form of Python and C++ lines. He does not go out and hunt monsters to get XP; instead he debugs them. He does not domesticate animals; but instead he brings them together.

Alex combines organic flesh and salvaged technology to produce Chimeras- monstrosities of metal and magic that do not obey the rules of the System. A rat is turned into a surveillance drone. And then A raptor becomes a railgun. Even A dragon is transformed into something worse.

"Your Game is broken. And I am the Admin.”

On the eve of our wedding, my Alpha fiancé, Ethan, broke off our engagement for the daughter of the man who once saved his father's life.

My brother took me to confront him, and Ethan threw my brother into the dungeon.

Then he used my brother's life as leverage to force me to hand over the five hundred silver vaults my grandfather had left me.

I swallowed my pride and begged him. He tipped up my chin and gently wiped away my tears.

"Celeste, I'm not really breaking it off. I just want you to agree to let Chloe move into the main house after the wedding, and to get along with her."

"Otherwise, your brother will never get out. Your only other choice is to take those vaults and beg that cursed beast of the Thorn Pack to marry you. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make the right choice."

I didn't say anything.

He thought I'd finally given in, and he smiled, satisfied.

"Good girl. I'll come for you on the wedding day."

What he didn't know was that on the morning of the wedding, I would already be in the bridal car the Thorn Pack sent for me, and I would pass him on the stone bridge between our two territories.

Later, Ethan knelt at the gates of the Thorn Pack and wept as he begged me to forgive him.

Last time, the world ended.

My fallen comrade left me the fortress he spent his life building. I hesitated, let his niece’s boyfriend inside, and that mercy killed everyone. They took the warehouse, cut the power, and put a knife in my gut. I crawled into the underground control room and triggered the self-destruct protocol he’d hidden for the worst day. The entire fortress went up in flames.

Then I opened my eyes—one month before disaster.

The gate was still closed. They were still outside. Everything could still be fixed.

This time, I set one rule at the door: anyone who opens it without approval is a traitor.

She cried like before, begged me to let her boyfriend in, called him the man she loved—and when I refused, she reached for the controls anyway.

So I grabbed her wrist and threw her out with them.

When I was injured and hospitalized, my husband, Adrian Hale, was still giving me the silent treatment over his ex-girlfriend.
 
During our worst fight, he told me, "If Vanessa and I wanted to be together, you never would have become Mrs. Hale."
 
After that, I became the kind of wife he'd always claimed to want. I stopped asking questions. I stopped checking when he would be home. I stopped arguing when Vanessa called.
 
Yet, that was when Adrian began reporting every detail of his day, avoiding Vanessa, and trying to come home early. On my birthday, he canceled a trip to Europe and flew back overnight to surprise me.
 
I should have been moved.
 
Instead, I hid in the kitchen and whispered to my best friend, "We're getting divorced. Why is he going to all this trouble?"
 
She laughed. "Adrian Hale is rich, gorgeous, and finally acting like a husband. Are you sure you won't regret leaving him?"
 
I thought about it.
 
"No," I said. "I think I'll finally be able to breathe."
 
Something dropped to the floor behind me.
 
I turned. Adrian was standing in the doorway, looking completely ashen.

For the sake of my marriage, I turned down a promotion and became the perfect wife and mother.
When my six-year-old son was rushed to the ER with an asthma attack in the dead of night, I sat vigil until dawn.
What I didn't expect was to hear my husband, just outside the emergency room doors, bragging to a friend about his mistress — and sneering that I was "bland and boring."
What hurt worse: my own son had been bought off by the other woman, and was now faking illness with practiced ease to cover for his father's affair.
My husband's scheming, my son's betrayal — seven years of devotion, ground into the dirt.
In that moment, something inside me died for good.
If this family is a filthy, lie-riddled con, then I'm taking back every ounce of love and sacrifice I ever poured into it. And I'm not looking back.

I died on the second Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day.
My biological mother, the top neurologist in the United States, was standing in front of my corpse.
She looked at the bedsores all over my body, at the ribs that had been stomped broken, and explained coldly to hundreds of cameras:
“Trash from the bottom of society, covered in needle marks like this, doesn’t deserve to dirty my dissection table.”
She didn’t know that the “social garbage” she called a pill-seeking self-harmer was the son she had abandoned ten years ago.
When the cold scalpel cut open my chest, an old photograph stained with black blood slipped out.
The moment she saw it, the woman who had stood above everyone else—
went completely insane…

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

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.

For two years my mother told the whole town that my sister Zoe was in a hospital in Switzerland.
She shut the heat off in my room with a wrench, because Zoe's ward is kept at sixty-five degrees. My dinner was always cold, because Zoe can't keep solid food down. I never got a birthday cake, because Zoe hasn't had one since she was seventeen.
The day I won the state 1600, she pulled the medal off my neck in the parking lot and didn't say one word the whole drive home. Then she walked me down to the basement, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under her heel until the ribbon came apart. She took a picture of it lying there. I'll send this to your sister. So she knows her little sister is keeping her company.
She came back down that night with a pair of garden shears. I fought her. She got a fistful of my hair, put my head over her knee, and cut it all off, because chemo took Zoe's.
Then I found something down there my mother never meant me to see.
My sister isn't where she said. And she isn't sick.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

My best friend Tiffany was obsessed with those novels where a mafia don spoils his woman rotten.

She was convinced she was the type of girl who could make a ruthless boss go soft, so she went after Vincent, the heir of a crime family, and got him.

His bodyguards, his dirty money, even the way he told her not to ask questions and just sit tight. She read all of it as devotion. And of course she had to drag me into it too, always with the same excuse: it was for my own good.

Last time around, her mess got me killed. Vincent's enemies mistook me for one of his people, and I died in a shootout that had nothing to do with me.

The second the blade opened my throat, all I could think about was her holding up a bloody knife, grinning, showing it off to me like a trophy.

"Margot, look. He gave me this. It means we're official now."

I remember feeling disgusted. I never thought that same knife would end up slitting my throat.

Blood pooled across the street while she hid in Vincent's arms, screaming, hands over her eyes. Later I heard her crying to someone, saying it wasn't her fault, that I just had bad luck.

I died inside her little romance fantasy. A nobody side character, wiped off the page without a second thought.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the afternoon it all started.

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

I would often find myself staring into my son Leon's eyes, lost in thought.
One, a deep azure blue, was inherited from his father. The other, however, was amber.
I couldn't understand it. While Leon's lineage is indeed mixed, his other eye should have been silver—the mark of my bloodline, the symbol of the royal werewolf lineage.
Yet it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.
Then, by chance, I came across an ancient book in my husband Carlisle's study. It detailed the hereditary rules of eye color for the royal werewolf line:
Regardless of which race they intermarry with, the direct descendants of the royal werewolves will always inherit at least one distinctive eye.
This meant that a son I bore would definitely have silver pupils.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I shared my fear—that we might have brought home the wrong child—with Carlisle.
He flew into a rage, snatched the book from my hands, and threw it into the fireplace.
"Selene, are you doubting my fidelity? Or suspecting that our son isn't your own? If Leon knew you doubted him, his heart would be shattered."
Carlisle stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Watching his retreating figure, my heart grew cold, piece by piece.
His reaction confirmed my worst fear, the one I desperately wanted to deny.
With the full moon just seven days away, I decided to abandon the plan of taking Leon back to the royal werewolf clan.

My marriage to Lucas was nothing but a cold-blooded mafia alliance. There was never any love between us.
His heart had always belonged to my best friend, Chloe. From the beginning to the end, I was never in his eyes.
And me? All I ever wanted was a sweet, honest love story of my own.
With his silent permission, I went looking for love online. But on the day I met my so-called online boyfriend for the first time, I was shoved into a lake and rescued by Chloe’s fiancé, Damon.
No one could have predicted that a man rumored to have no interest in women at all would react to me and me alone.
From that moment on, he caged me at his side and forced me to become his secret lover.
But this was never the kind of love I wanted. I still kept searching for something sweet, real, and truly mine.

My husband doesn't love me, and he certainly doesn't love our son.
On the day Toby was born, Graham didn't even look at him before tossing him into my arms.
For seven years, he kept our marriage a secret and strictly forbade our boy from calling him "Dad."
Then, his first love returned.
The usually cold and distant billionaire came to our rundown cabin dead drunk, a rare, tender smile on his face, and actually pulled our seven-year-old into his arms.
Toby's eyes lit up with pure joy. He excitedly hugged the man's neck and whispered to me, "Mom, what's wrong with Uncle Graham? He's hugging me!"
I knelt down, pulled my son away from the man who smelled of her perfume, and forced back my tears. "Uncle's favorite person just came back, sweetie. So we shouldn't bother him anymore. We're moving away."
I secretly made a vow: I would give Graham exactly three chances.
That night, watching my son's heartbroken face, I silently made a vow.
Three chances. I would give Graham exactly three more chances to choose us.
The countdown has started. Once his three chances are up, he won't just lose his family—he will watch his entire legacy burn to the ground.

On the third anniversary of our bond, I pushed open the private room door, my heart full of hope—only to see Chisel on one knee, leaning in to kiss Sylvia. In that instant, every thread of love and trust inside me snapped.
“What are you doing?” My voice trembled; tears blurred my vision.
Chisel looked up at me, eyes full of irritation. “Enough, Leah. Stop putting on that wounded look. We were just playing a game. I lost, that’s all. Why are you angry?”
I could no longer bear the betrayal. After losing our pup, something inside me died completely. I decided to break the mate bond, to end this painful, scarred union once and for all.
Even as Chisel kept apologizing, swearing he would change, I no longer believed him. My voice went cold:
“Even if I forgive you, our pup never will.”
I left the home that had once been full of love and hope, flying toward a new world that would be mine alone.

What exactly does it mean to be his bride?


Every year, in each of the seven villages that made up the great Kingdom of Ignas, a Choosing Ritual was conducted. During this Chosing Ritual, one of the ladies in the village would be chosen to be the dreaded Dragon King's Bride.

No one knew exactly why the ritual was being performed every year or what happened to the brides that had been chosen in the past.

Was he turning them into slaves?

Feeding them to his dragon?

Or was he... feeding on them?

That couldn't be ruled out. After all, there were rumours that the king wasn't like them, that he wasn't human.

Yet the question relentlessly troubled the people's heart.

What was he using them for?!

But they dared not question the King, afraid of what fate daring to go against him would be.

Anyways, none of these was Belladonna's business. Although it was her village's turn to produce a bride this year, she was certain she wouldn't get chosen.

Why?

Well, because she had a plan and she was absolutely certain it wouldn't fail her... or would it?

“Since the top’s learned its manners,” he growled, ramming his knee between my thighs and pressing the rigid line of his cock against my soaked core, “this part better start remembering how to greet its master.”

“Wait—!” I gasped, legs shaking, a rush of hot liquid drenching the lace between us.

—

Lena Foster was born disgrace. To her Alpha father she was the stain her Omega mother left behind. Beaten by her stepmother, starved, left barefoot in winter nights; her former mate Luke even shoved himself into another woman while Lena watched. When the family finally cast her out, her sire sold her for a fortune to the most feared Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack—Dominic Voss.

Legend says Dominic carries an ancient blood-curse: if he can’t find a woman who truly fears nothing in him and will bear his child before thirty, he’ll devolve into a mindless beast that lives only to kill. Every woman who’s ever neared him has ended mad or dead.

The moment Lena crossed the tower threshold she expected to be the next corpse—yet before the monster she felt, for the first time, the shiver of being violently wanted.

She is either his salvation…or just the woman he drags down to hell.