3893 Book(s) Related to rejected ex luna come back to me

She built a quiet life from the wreckage of a marriage that nearly swallowed her whole. A bakery. A hidden talent for art. And a son she loves more than breathing. At forty, Corinna Adler is composed, grounded, but devastatingly unsated, starved and untouched.

One night was supposed to fix that.

One anonymous night at Obscura, the city's most secretive underground club with a man whose hands knew things about her body she had forgotten were possible. Young, commanding, and patient. The kind of man Corinna would unfortunately, never forget.

Because the morning after, he re-introduces himself into her reality in a way she never sees coming.

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

"I, Alpha Dante of the Crimson Fang Pack, reject you, Sera, as my mate and Luna."

He never knew those words would cost him everything.

Cast out and broken, Sera fled into exile and into a secret she swore to protect with her life. Three years later, she returns to the Continental Alpha Summit not as the Omega he discarded, but as the Twilight Sovereign, ruler of the Lunar Lycans and mother to a son Dante never knew existed.

Asher changes everything.

His existence shocks the Council, threatens the powerful, and makes him a target. When enemies Sera thought she understood begin moving against her son, she realizes the danger runs deeper than rivalry, someone has been pulling strings since before she was ever rejected.

Including Dante.

But the truth about that night is more complicated than betrayal, and the mate bond she has spent three years trying to destroy refuses to die. With assassins closing in, ancient prophecies awakening in her son's blood, and a war she can no longer avoid, Sera faces an impossible choice between the vengeance that kept her alive and the truth that could rebuild everything she lost.

The Council made one mistake. They let her survive.

Layla's life has never really felt like her own. Torn away from by the man she truly loves, Layla must choice between duty, desire, and destiny to keep pack, and her son, safe from an evil she didn't expect—

Solomon whispered, “You are my mate, Layla Undertow. I swear this to you and to the Goddess, I will not reject you.” He looked deeply into her eyes, his long black eyelashes holding back tears.

Immediately Layla knew she had crossed a line. “I love you. I am your mate. You felt it the same way I did. There is no magic that could force it. I want you.”

But it didn’t matter anyway, for Anthony did not hear her. He instead clapped his hands and embraced Alistar. “This is good. You have my blessing.”

Alistar winked at her over her father’s shoulder. “She is the mate I have been waiting for my entire life. She is mine.”

Torn Between Two Alphas: The Luna’s Choice is created by Bethany Hardt, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

“Sign the contract. Be my incubator. And I will let you live.”
That was the deal I made with the tyrant named Damon Lexton.
I was his medicine. His prisoner. He did not love me—only the rare blood in my veins that kept him alive. When I died in the fire, he did not mourn his wife. He mourned the loss of his cure.
Five years later, I returned from the dead with a new face and a heart of stone, ready to watch him suffer.
Then my five-year-old son walked into his office.
“Hey, Old Man. Are you the one who made my mom cry?”
Damon stared at the child—the son he once called a bastard. For the first time, the tyrant fell to his knees.
He cornered me against the wall, his eyes burning with madness and obsession.
“You can run, Anna. But you and our son belong to me. I used to need your blood to live. Now I need your heartbeat to breathe.”

They took everything from her.
Framed for a crime she didn’t commit, Damarys Frostmere spent three years in one of the cruelest prisons imaginable—abandoned by her family, betrayed by her mate, and silenced by a world that refused to hear the truth. But prison didn’t break her.
It forged her.
Now free, Damarys returns to a home that was never truly hers… only to walk away for good. Her family chose her sister. Her mate chose power. And the people who destroyed her life believe she’s too broken to fight back.
They’re wrong.
Armed with forbidden magic, sharpened by years of torment, and driven by a promise to the one person who loved her, Damarys begins her descent into vengeance. One by one, those who betrayed her will pay.
But as she vanishes into a new life, she unknowingly captures the attention of a powerful Alpha—Dante Ravencrest—a deadly man who can’t forget the mysterious woman who saved his life… and may just be his destined mate.
With enemies closing in, secrets unraveling, and a storm of reckoning on the horizon—
Damarys is no longer the girl they condemned.
She is the nightmare they created.
The Luna Chronicles is a spellbinding anthology of five fierce, emotional tales where wounded hearts, ancient magic, and dangerous destinies collide. From a prison survivor who rises as the most powerful wolf-mage, to an omega’s child destined to become Alpha, to a lycan queen seeking vengeance, each story follows women who refuse to remain broken. In worlds ruled by pack law, blood bonds, and moonlit secrets, betrayal is only the beginning—and love may be the most dangerous power of all.

Flora Everhart discovers her husband’s affair on their anniversary, an unpleasant sight for the eyes and it shatters her world. In the aftermath, she encounters Marcus, her estranged brother-in-law, only for him to be critically injured protecting her from the mistress. As Flora faces heartbreak and betrayal, the Moon Goddess Selene offers her a second chance—traveling between worlds to collect life force by living out the fates of women who died tragically. Flora soon uncovers a powerful secret: Marcus’s soul is scattered across dimensions. As Flora’s journey begins, she must choose between love and redemption, and the price of both.

"Do it then," Malakai growled, his palm slamming into the stone wall beside her ear, cracking the masonry.

"Tell me to walk the fuck out that door, Winter. Say the goddamn word."

His massive frame pinned her flush against the rock. "Derek is on patrol," Winter breathed, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. "If he walks in—"

"I don't give a fuck about your brother!" Malakai snarled against her skin. "Let him watch me mark what's mine."

He hooked his long fingers roughly under her jaw, forcing her eyes to meet his molten copper glare. His mouth slammed down on hers, wild and possessive, tasting like ash and dark heat.

"Fuck," he choked out, shoving his forehead against hers with lethal desperation. "Tell me to stop. Ask me to leave right now, Winter, and I'll walk."

Her heart pounded as she looked up at the deadliest Alpha in the academy breaking apart in her hands.

"I—"


Rule #1: Never cross into Crimson territory.
Rule #2: Never touch the enemy.
Rule #3: Never look Alpha Malakai in the eye.

Raised by her overprotective Alpha brother to be an obedient future Luna, Winter was ordered to avoid Crimson wolves.

She intended to obey. Until she bumped into Malakai Drake.

Ruthless, cold-blooded, and cursed with dark magic burning him alive, Malakai can only be quieted by his fated mate. One breath of his timber scent, and their bond snaps tight.

When his ex-girlfriend tries to humiliate Winter, Malakai's control shatters, turning the lethal Alpha dangerously obsessed with making her his.

Can she survive the deadliest Alpha in the academy, or will his consuming magic burn them both to ash?

In my last life, for the spy I executed, she framed me for treason and injected me with the zombie virus herself.

I died in a dungeon—by the hand of the one I trusted most.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t interfere. I watched coldly as she got scratched, handed the only dose of serum to the spy, and as the gates swung open and he finally showed his true face.

At last she believed me, kneeling in the dirt, begging for forgiveness.

I looked into her eyes as they clouded over. “I warned you in my last life. You didn’t believe me.”

This life, every blade she wanted for me—lands on her instead.

I was Sophia Corleone. The wife Michael kept hidden from the world. The woman who should have stood beside the Don. And the woman he left to die.
The Morettis tied me up at a dock on Long Island. With the last of my strength, I called my husband. My voice broke with terror: “Michael, please… save me. I’m at the Long Island docks. They’re going to kill me.”
But all I got was his impatient roar, “Sophia, are you lying for attention again? You’d make up something this pathetic just to get me home? God, you make me sick.”
The call cut off in my ear. And then the Morettis killed me.

Ten years ago, Iron Throne, Mexico's largest drug cartel, slaughtered my entire family. A decade later, I defected voluntarily and stepped into their manor with a token of allegiance. Everyone thought I had fallen into depravity. What they never knew was that I came to Iron Throne neither for wealth nor power. I came because I had memorized five names from the hit list that destroyed my family, and kept them in my heart for ten long years. I chose to lie low, until I rose to become the second-in-command of Iron Throne. On the night the kingpin handed the entire criminal empire over to me, I walked into his study, raised my gun with a smile.

Twenty years ago, he took the blame for my murder, was branded with the Silver Flame mark, and banished to the wilderness. Twenty years later, I escaped from a prison-like marriage and searched the world for him. He wasn't there in the Alaskan blizzards. He wasn't there in the deep mountains of Romania. Under the polar night in the Arctic Circle, I called his name into the darkness. No one answered. Until a hunter told me: deep in the Yukon, someone had seen a lone wolf with the Silver Flame mark.

Five years ago, they stripped me of my rank and stopped my retirement pay. Now, with the Imperial army at the gates, they kneel at my door, begging for my services. My daughter is wearing last year's shoes, her big toe practically sticking out. My wife is still refilling coffee at a fast-food restaurant at 3 a.m. The neighbors call me "that welfare-dependent guy" behind my back. I pulled my five-year-old dismissal order from under the bill and slipped it under the door. "You've got the wrong person."

Everyone in the tribe looked down on me. My father declared someone else the heir to the chieftaincy, my wife tore up our engagement and followed a new master, and I lived in a beast pen at the edge of the hunting grounds, sharing a wall with the hunting dogs. I thought this was my life. Only later did I realize that the entire tribe had spent twenty years of coldness building me a fortress. Those airtight shields would one day need me to prove them myself. On the day I awakened, the tribe's totem pole exploded. The true king was about to return.

In my past life, I was tricked into a trap by my neighbor, my leg broken, and thrown into acid rain to die. Reborn, I returned to nine months before the acid rain apocalypse. Meteorites struck, radiation contaminated, water sources dried up, and civilization collapsed. I still had one last chance to save myself and reverse the future. When I mortgaged my house, borrowed heavily from loan sharks, and finally found the water purification engineer whom everyone considered crazy, I was met with merciless ridicule. Faced with humiliation, I simply smiled faintly—"Do you know when water is more precious than gold?"

I was bought into this world. For twenty-three years, my adoptive mother swept floors, scrubbed toilets, and endured endless orders from others just to keep me alive. Then one day, I discovered she had been depositing forty-four thousand dollars into an overseas account every single year for two decades. They called it a "custody fee". When a mysterious organization showed up, slammed coins in her face and threw a contract written in blood right in front of me, I finally learned whose blood runs through my veins. From that day on, I will prove to everyone: no one shall ever hurt my family.

Introduction: Monsters have invaded the world, and humanity is in grave danger. I transformed into a demon-sealing war god, guarding the abyss for twenty years. But I was met with betrayal after betrayal; my position as war god was revoked, and the people, believing rumors, sought to punish me. They smashed my wife's tombstone, turned my son into a monster , and drained my blood... Now the monsters have returned, kneeling and weeping, begging me to intervene . This time, I will not intervene!

Last time, she chased the “true love” a corporate spy sold her—publicly branded me controlling, stole my core tech, and helped him shove me off a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t expose her, didn’t confront her, and didn’t beg her to stay. I set the trap—watched her come close again, test my limits, and steal the “core technology”…

Until the stolen code blew up the rival company, until she was unmasked in front of the cameras and taken away in handcuffs.

Through tears, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner he was a corporate spy?”

I answered only, “I did. Last life.”

My name is Damian Lemaître.

In my past life, I was Serafina Camarilla's lapdog for ten years, being drained of my life, used, and squeezed dry of my last bit of value.

I opened my eyes and found myself back at the scene of the blood pact ceremony. She sat on the high seat, waiting for me to kneel down and swear the oath with the same excitement as in my previous life.

"Damian Flamel, are you willing?"

"No."

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.

I was never supposed to exist in the Blood Moon Pack, low-born, no surname, no family to shield me.
Yet the Alpha chose me and called me “his one and only mate for this lifetime”.
He said he loved me.
So I endured. I stepped back. I forgave him again and again.
Until the day I was pushed down the stairs, dragged into the punishment grounds, strapped to an electric restraint bed, and heard them calmly discussing how far they should go this time; what kind of punishment would finally make the “real family” feel at ease?
That was when I understood in their world, I wasn’t a mate. I wasn’t family. I wasn’t even seen as a person. I was just a bargaining chip, but something disposable, something meant to be sacrificed when convenient.
So I learned to stay quiet, to remember everything, and to wait.
They thought I died in that fire.
But when I stepped back into the moonlight, I was no longer an Omega.

The day I signed the divorce papers, Ethan Frost lit up the night sky with thousands of drones spelling out, ‘Vivian Moore, I love you.’ The whole city celebrated his new romance.
On our daughter, Sophie’s birthday, he watched coldly as Vivian’s daughter snatched away her favorite Elsa princess cake—and didn’t even blink when I was shoved down the stairs. Bleeding and trembling, I looked up to see him tenderly massaging Vivian’s feet.
But what truly shattered me was the day Sophie struggled in the pool—Ethan held me back, eyes dark, roaring, “What do you want?”
Later, he scrambled to Sophie’s photo on his knees, crying “Where’s Sophie? Bring her out.” While I only felt absurd, I smiled through my tears “you will never see Sophie again—ever.”

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

To save my terminally ill wife and daughter, I drained half my wolf blood and tore out my own right fang.
Stripped of my source power, I became a worthless wolf despised by the entire clan.
My wife cast me out of the den, pinching her nose at the stench of rot on me; my daughter threw stones at me, cursing me with hatred as a blind, useless failure.
Together, they set their eyes on another young, strong Alpha. They let him trample my dignity in public, and finally had me brutally slaughtered on the frozen wasteland.
But they never knew, the reason that man could make their souls submit and fall for him was that his veins ran entirely with my heart's blood.
Only when I was reduced to a boneless husk of a wolf did my wife go mad, clawing her own gland raw, weeping and begging me to leave her one last mark.

My wife, the most ruthless godmother in New York's underworld, wants a divorce.
The reason? Her male subordinate's old wound has flared up, and he only has three months to live. She wants to accompany him on his final journey as his wife.
To make room for her new lover, she not only doesn't go home, but even allows him to frame me for a fabricated death sentence.
In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, the backlash from deviating from the proper procedures caused my organs to rapidly fail, and I developed a persistent high fever.
Through the iron bars, she looked at my disfigured body, not recognizing me, but coldly raising her gun and giving the order to execute me herself.
She proudly believed that by clearing the way, she could go back and have a grand wedding with the man who was feigning illness.
Until the last shot, when my breathing stopped completely, she saw the old scar on the back of my left hand—the scar from the severed finger I had left for her.
That once arrogant godmother instantly broke down in tears beside my corpse.

"In the toxic halls of Eastview High, Aria Bellwyn has mastered the art of being invisible. But when she's forced to tutor golden boy Knox Hale, she's thrust into a world of danger and desire. As they navigate the treacherous social hierarchy, Aria becomes the target of Knox's manipulative ex, Blaire, and the ruthless queen bee, Sarah. But Knox's secrets run deeper he's trapped in a deadly debt to a local crime lord, and Aria's the only one who can help him take down the corrupt empire controlling the school. As they risk everything to expose the truth, can they survive the betrayal lurking in every corner and find love in the process?

Dive into this heart-pumping, high-stakes romance where the line between invisible and irresistible is about to get blurred."

For seven years, Elena Voss believed the boy she raised was her own — and that a loveless marriage was simply the price of motherhood.

She was wrong. Her real son didn't die at birth. He was taken, swapped for another woman's child, and now his blood is the only thing keeping the boy who replaced him alive.

When Elena demands the truth, her husband's family doesn't deny it. They silence her — a forced signature, a locked door, a car chase that should have ended in her death.

It doesn't. A stranger with a decade-old vendetta against her husband's empire pulls her from the wreckage and offers her a deal: help him bring House Voss down, and he'll help her take back everything they stole. Her name. Her land. Her son.

Neither of them knows the boy they’re searching for already belongs to both of them.

Some marriages are built on love. Hers was built on a lie big enough to bury an empire.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

On the night before my sister's bone marrow transplant, my parents confiscated my EpiPen and locked me in the attic.

Their "genetic consultant" warned them that the medication would contaminate the stem cells meant for my sister.

I had eaten the meal they provided—one secretly laced with lethal traces of nuts.

The resulting anaphylactic swelling was suffocating me completely.

I frantically bashed my head against the door. "My pen... Mom, I can't breathe..."

"Stop putting on a show!" Mom snapped through the wood. "That meal was entirely nut-free! Are you faking an allergic reaction just because you can't stand the thought of your sister finally getting well?"

Her footsteps retreated.

Agonizing pain and oxygen deprivation overtook me as I clawed at the floor until every one of my nails snapped off.

Until my breathing stopped completely.

Y

Hiding my identity and marrying an ambitious female celebrity—this is the most boring social experiment I've ever done.
She wants me to leave with nothing.
She gave my family heirloom to that gigolo.
She tweeted that I was "low-class trash".
She didn't know that Hollywood, which she was desperately trying to climb up to, was nothing more than my backyard.
She had no idea that those capitalists she fawned over would all bow down and call me "Mr. Rockwell."
Until that night, she stripped naked, attempting to offer herself to the enigmatic "godfather of capital"—
The leather sofa slowly turned around.
The lights were on.
She saw my face.
“Chloe,” I flicked my cigar ash, “what brings you here?”

My wife was forced to don a wedding dress to marry my sworn enemy, while my three-year-old daughter was locked in an iron cage suspended above the raging sea.

And I, the dignified Commander-in-Chief of the Blackwater Fleet, was forced to wear a dog collar, kneeling on broken glass and licking up red wine like a crippled stray dog.
All because embedded in their necks were biological bombs, the detonator held in the hands of my enemy.

The elites of the entire island ruthlessly mocked my cowardice, trampling me underfoot in ultimate humiliation.

That was until the climax of the maritime wedding, when my enemy smugly pressed the detonator, only for the collars to flash a safe green light—the full-frequency signal decryption was complete.
Amidst the dead silence of the crowd, I snapped the forged steel chains binding me and slowly stood tall.

The next second, ten nuclear-powered submarines violently breached the ocean surface, and tens of thousands of heavily armored death squads descended from the sky.

Looking at my enemy, now terrified to the point of incontinence and shattering his own knees to frantically kowtow and beg for mercy, I picked up that very dog chain and slipped it around his neck.

On our wedding day, my fiancé gave the wedding dress I had made by hand to his sick sister—and let her marry into the DeLuca family in my place.
Everyone told me to give in because she was fragile, while I was strong enough to endure it.
That night, I walked away, revoked my access to the family, and left my mother’s atelier.
Later, his sister’s fake illness was exposed, and my fiancé got down on his knees, begging me to come back.
But I was no longer the woman who would sacrifice everything for them.

The world thought I was a broken man after rotting in the Abyss for five years. Even Moretti, the wealthiest mogul in Cold Harbor, dared to point a finger at my nose and demand I kneel.
He razed my estate, seized my daughter, and humiliated my past on a city-wide livestream.
What he didn’t know was that the moment his infrared scanners locked onto me, I had already initiated the sequence for a dormant orbital satellite that had been sleeping above us for five years.
When the skyscraper turns to ash, the man kneeling before me won’t be that arrogant tycoon—only a trembling corpse.
After all, in this city, I don’t believe in reason. I only believe in retribution.

Three years ago, my twelve brothers died in the desert at night. A traitor stepped over my death notice and took the place that should have been mine. Three years later, I hide in a run-down convenience store, wiping shelves. I endure being spat on, having my beer stolen, and being called trash—I endured it all. Because I'm waiting. Waiting for someone to return, waiting for an answer. Some ask me: Is it worth it, for a bunch of dead men? I don't know if it's worth it. I only know that when they were alive, they called me Captain. Three years in seclusion, all for the day the God of War returns!

Introduction: I spent 20 years cultivating alone in the forest. Returning home, I discovered my brother, who had cared for me since childhood, was missing. They said he died under the terms of the contract, an "accident." The Magic Guild made me wait in line for two months. I waited three days, only to be greeted by a wagon delivering potion ingredients to a murderer. Since your laws don't protect me—then I will be my own law. I will show you with my fists what a melee mage truly is.

Five years ago, I woke up after surgery with my mind completely blank. The doctor said I had been in a training accident, and I was lucky just to be alive. Due to my injuries, after being discharged from the military, I was assigned to the mess hall at Fort Kiernan. Every day, I stood behind the same serving window, dishing out the same beef and potato stew to the same group of new recruits. I thought my life would always be like this. Then one day, a female journalist from the detention cell was escorted over by military police to get her meal. She slid her tray toward me and spoke a word I had never heard before. The ladle slipped right out of my left hand. My right arm dropped to my side, and my fingers curled instinctively into the shape of a gun grip. Who on earth am I?

Three years ago, I was the sole surviving legendary mage of Ash Valley. To fulfill my comrade's dying wish, I married into the Robert family, becoming a despised and bullied son-in-law . For three years, I endured torment and humiliation; my entire family treated me like trash . My wife handed me divorce papers , then accepted the marriage proposal of a nobleman. On my wedding day, I walked into the hall in old clothes, and everyone laughed, thinking I was crazy. Until I shattered all magic with a wave of my hand, my legendary presence overwhelming everyone present, the woman who had once despised me finally cried and asked me: Why did you lie to me?

Introduction: Three years ago, to pay for my sister's medical treatment, I willingly took on the role of a servant to the wealthy heiress Daisy, becoming a smuggling criminal and struggling to survive amidst humiliation. Daisy's family, with their cruel hearts, took advantage of the impending apocalyptic cold wave to murder both my sister and me. Reborn, I am determined to rewrite our fate. When hunters who revel in harming unarmed civilians besiege our shelter, I raise my gun—in this apocalyptic cold wave, anyone who dares to harm my sister will die!

A red dragon heir locked me in an iron shed and scorched me with his breath for ten minutes straight.Didn't kill me.He woke a Black Dragon buried under a three-hundred-year curse.The Tri-Dragon Council tore down my home, beat my father, threw me in jail, and live-streamed it all so the whole city could laugh.What they didn't know: every ancestor's soul in the Black Dragon cemetery had fused into me.I smashed through the Council's dome and slammed the dissolution order onto the table.

He waited for me for two years. I turned him down twelve times. Every time he told me he liked me, I stayed silent. Every time he asked, "Have you really never felt anything for me?" I would turn my face away. I thought I would have endless chances. I thought he would always be there. Now when I close my eyes, all I can see is the last question he asked me under the moonlight. I thought it was glory. Freedom. The victory I deserved. Not until his body fell beneath the moonlight, not until I had everything, not until I started jolting awake from nightmares on countless full-moon nights, did I realize that the silver sword I drove into his heart had also pierced my own life.

Twelve years after the geomagnetic reversal, the death ray scorched every inch of the land. Survivors huddled beneath the dome, weaving their last refuge with lies . I was just a scavenger, digging for palladium in the ruins, just to buy my sister a breath of pure oxygen. But I also kept a secret— I could hear the voice of metal. When the Council of Order threatened my sister's life, forcing me into the forbidden zone to carry out a suicide mission, those whispers of steel finally became clear. They called to me, guiding me down another dead end.

I was a herbalist, a healer who saved lives, but I was falsely accused of spreading plague and hanged on the gallows, awaiting the flames. Then I heard them—a swarm of rats emerging from the earth, gnawing through the noose and dragging me back to the world of the living. But this was not salvation, but the beginning of a curse. Plague swept across the land, the church peddled counterfeit medicines, and lords squeezed every last grain from the farmers. The rats looked at me and whispered to me — the end has come, and you will become the calamity.

I inherited a family heirloom watch. It heats up when I'm in danger, shoves me out of the way when I'm attacked, and in the middle of the night it folds my clothes and makes me a cup of tea at exactly the right temperature. I know there's a guardian spirit living inside it, but I've never asked who he is, what his name is, or why he's here. I got used to his presence—so used to it that I started taking it for granted. Then I met an antiques dealer. He was gentle, polished, and thoughtful in every way. But the guardian spirit reacted like he'd gone insane. I snapped at it, "You're just a watch. What right do you have to interfere in my life?"

I was born into a cursed bloodline of witches. My mother told me that every firstborn daughter had to sacrifice the one she loved most to break the chains binding our blood. She said it was the only way to save my child. I lied to myself, and I lied to him, leading him to the altar with my own two hands. But I couldn't survive a single day without him. No curse, no matter how horrific, could ever compare to the sheer ugliness of the human heart. Waking up in that empty house, the truth finally hit me: I had absolutely nothing left.

Ten years of secret service honed my Phantom Legion, a force I built that could make a small nation tremble. On the day I retired and returned to New York, I found a cardboard tent next to a garbage dump in a Bronx back alley. Curled up inside was my daughter, whom I hadn't seen in five years. She was covered in bruises, barefoot, and clutching half a moldy loaf of bread. I picked her up and dialed the phone—"I want everyone who wronged her to suffer a fate worse than death! "

At my boss's mother's funeral, I couldn't hold back my laughter, and as a result, I was treated as a lunatic, stuffed into a garbage cannon, and launched naked into an apocalyptic forest full of zombies. Everyone thought I was doomed, but they didn't know—I had been reborn 1,001 times. Unarmed and surrounded by the zombie horde, about to be torn to shreds, in desperation I clung to the last clue... When I finally uncovered the truth that could overturn everything, I laughed from the bottom of my heart. This time, I would personally end this greatest lie.

After suddenly being rejected by her mate on her birthday after two years of relationship, Isabelle travels to the territory of humans where she meets her second chance mate who is not quite as he seems.

I was rushing to perform an emergency surgery when a woman and her mother charged at me, slapping me to the ground. They accused me of being a corrupt, crooked doctor who prescribed fake drugs for kickbacks.
I begged for mercy, pleading that I needed to go perform surgery on my mother, but they beat me black and blue.
"A quack like you deserves to perform surgery?"
When my husband finally arrived, I thought he would stand up for me. To my absolute horror, he was already having an affair with that woman. He called me an embarrassment and sneered, "If your mother dies, it’s exactly what she deserves!"
I froze.
But, darling... the person dying on the operating table right now is your mother.

My boyfriend pulled off a drone-sky proposal that lit up the entire city.
Crowds cheered, “Congratulations to Mr. Gunson and Mrs. Gunson—at last, true lovers become family.”
But the woman curled in his arms was his secretary.
The “me” in their mouths had long since turned to white bones beneath a mound of earth.