Clara Voss

After my parents died, my pureblood uncle threw a pouch of ten thousand gold coins onto his mahogany desk. He demanded I take my seven-year-old brother, drop out of the magic academy, and cross into the mortal slums forever. "Consider your connection to this house severed." He sneered, warning me never to tell a living soul we carried the Price blood. My cousin Isla smiled her fake, angelic smile while my uncle mocked that we would starve on our empty pride. We were thrown out, forced to hide in a damp, rat-infested attic in the lower districts. Even Damien Carlisle, the supreme pureblood commander of the magic council, looked at me through the rain with arrogant, dismissive pity. To him, I was just a pathetic, broke teenage mother dragging an illegitimate child through the mud. They all thought I was a helpless stray, a nobody they could easily crush with their endless wealth and elite status. They had no idea that I was "Silent," the ruthless, undefeated duelist of the underground rings. And they certainly didn't know I was the legendary "Saint Hand"—the exact master alchemist that Commander Carlisle was currently tearing the city apart to find to save his dying grandmother. I shoved the pouch of blood money back across the desk, took my little brother's hand, and walked out of the manor without looking back. If the high purebloods wanted to play games with our lives, I would gladly bankrupt them all.

After being publicly rejected by my intended mate and abandoned by my own father, I got drunk and slept with a stranger. I thought he was just a Rogue for hire, a nameless body to help me forget the humiliation. But when I saw the black wolf sigil on his phone the next morning, my blood ran cold. He was Barron Winters, the legendary Lycan King, and my best friend's terrifying uncle. Desperate to escape, I tried to insult him by sending a $5,000 payoff note, treating him like a cheap gig. But my father froze my trust fund, and my emergency work advance was mysteriously denied. I had no money and nowhere to run. Then, the new CEO of my company was announced. It was him. He cornered me in his massive office, his suffocating Alpha scent wrapping around me. I panicked, begged, and used every modern excuse to push him away, claiming it was just a meaningless mistake. But he simply took off his shirt, revealing the deep, angry scratches I had left on his back. Marks that only a fated mate could ever inflict on an ancient Lycan. "I need a Luna." His possessive gaze locked onto me, stripping away all my defenses. Using the oldest, most absolute werewolf laws, the tyrant king gave me an ultimatum. Accept my destiny and move into his estate, or he would claim and mark me right there in the office.

Dumped by my boyfriend for a wealthy heiress and left with exactly $217 in my bank account, I couldn't afford the government's new mandatory Celibacy Tax. With no other choice, I entered the federal partner lottery, only to be matched with Dane Beaumont-the country's most ruthless, anti-marriage billionaire. I desperately tried to annul the match, but his legal team cornered me. They threatened to cut off my dying father's life-saving dialysis and kidney transplant channel if I didn't comply. Forced to accept a one-year sham marriage, I was cornered at a gas station by my ex and his new heiress wife, who publicly mocked me in the freezing rain for being a pathetic gold-digger. "Look at you," my ex sneered. "Like a drowned rat. I'm honestly embarrassed for you." But before the humiliation could completely break me, a warm suit jacket smelling of winter pine was draped over my shivering shoulders. Dane Beaumont, the cold-blooded titan who was supposed to despise this forced union, swept me into his arms and carried me to his hypercar, leaving my ex utterly paralyzed with shock. I didn't understand. Why did this terrifying man, who had the power to send me to federal prison rather than marry a nobody, suddenly choose to protect me? Sitting in my new gilded cage at the Beaumont estate, I looked at the ironclad contract that bound us. I calmly opened an encrypted app and messaged my agent. It was time to wake up my hidden identity as the genius composer "Dusk" and tear down the heiress who thought she had ruined my life. It is a story between vampires and mermaids.

I went to a luxury hotel for a blind date, hoping to finally move on from my past. But I opened the wrong door and stumbled right into my billionaire ex-husband, Damarcus. He was sitting in the dim suite with a beautiful socialite, watching me freeze like a beggar in my cheap dress. I fled, but he cornered me in the hallway restroom. He coldly mocked my family's crushing debt and implied I was selling myself to my date. I thought the humiliation was over, so I threw myself into my demanding corporate job to pay for my sick mother's care. The next night, my boss, Felix, took me to a high-stakes dinner with a major client. But Damarcus showed up there too. He walked right into our private room, dominating the space, and deliberately sabotaged me. He raised his glass and loudly toasted to my resilience, twisting the truth to make my boss think we were having a secret, scandalous affair. He wanted to destroy my reputation and strip away the only lifeline I had left. He had already ruined my life once, leaving me with nothing. Why was he hunting me down just to play these cruel games? I sat in my dark apartment, waiting in terror for Felix to fire me. Instead, my phone rang. "I believe you. I know what kind of man he is." Hearing my boss say those words, my fear finally burned into rage. This time, I wasn't going to run.

Once a legendary healer capable of miracles, she sacrificed her hands to save the man she loved. Now, as her mother lay dying, that same man offered a cruel bargain-marry him and raise another woman's child in exchange for the medicine. With trembling fingers, she typed one final line of code, getting in touch with that mysterious man. In the darkness, he watched her with restrained longing and asked, "Are you ready for this?" Unknown to everyone, her mother's rare medicine came from a project he had secretly begun the day she was injured-and he had been waiting for her ever since.

After the crash erased any hope of recovery, Vivian chose IVF to honor her fiancé's wish to have a child. A mistake during the procedure changed everything, and the baby turned out to belong to William, a billionaire known more for mystery than presence. Faced with the fallout, William offered her a hundred million dollar contract. "Carry the child to term, and the money will be yours." At first, Vivian refused because she believed her dignity could not be bought. That resolve collapsed when she saw her fiancé, barely out of the ICU, entwined with her stepsister. Crushed by betrayal, she signed the contract and married William. The public mocked her choice and claimed she had married nothing more than a pretty face. Time proved them wrong. Doctors later praised her work for reshaping medical research. Among hackers, her code became legend. On an international stage, Vivian's brilliance held an entire forum in awe. Amid the stunned crowd, William stepped forward and wrapped her in a gentle embrace before kissing her softly. "Have you enjoyed yourself enough? It's time for us to go home." The audience erupted in disbelief. Meanwhile, the man who once scorned her now begged for another chance.

Hayley was betrayed by those who should have loved her most. To save their precious adopted daughter from a punishment she deserved, her own parents sent Hayley straight into a living hell-an infamous prison where survival demanded cruelty, and weakness meant death. Four years later, the girl who had entered those iron gates no longer existed. She emerged with a single, unbreakable rule carved into her soul: Every betrayal would be repaid tenfold. The day she walked free, the world trembled. A convoy of luxury cars lined the road. A legion of loyal followers awaited her triumphant return. Her father tried to buy her silence with money. But money had long lost its power over her. Her adopted sister hid behind sweet words and false kindness. But empty smiles no longer fooled her. Everything that had once been stolen would be reclaimed-piece by piece. When her parents attempted to tie themselves to the city's most feared man by offering their adopted daughter, Hayley's lips curved into a cold smirk. "Not on my watch." Backed by a legendary hacker, shadowy allies, and an entire prison willing to burn the world for her, Hayley dismantled her enemies with terrifying precision. Then the tyrant noticed her. "You're interesting," he said. "Be my woman, and the city is yours." Hayley raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You want to own me? Survive me first." High society became their battlefield. Power collided with desire. Ambition clashed with obsession. In this ruthless game of dominance and temptation, only one would kneel first. The girl once abandoned in hell rose from its ashes, crowned by fire and vengeance-And in the end, even the most feared ruler in the city would bow, offering his empire to the woman who had conquered both hell... and him.

To repay a debt, Elliana hid her real abilities and married into a powerful family, quietly helping her husband conquer the business world. Three years later, he coldly announced, "She's back. We're getting divorced." Elliana dropped the act. No longer willing to pretend, she stepped out as a legendary healer, a supermodel, the head of a global conglomerate, a top luxury designer, and a master restorer. Her ex begged for forgiveness, but Elliana never looked back-she chose his far more impressive uncle instead. "You're just not worth it."

I woke up to the stench of rust and rotting flesh, no longer a master botanist who commanded life itself, but a D-class exile dumped on a wasteland planet. Memories that weren't mine flooded in. I was framed by my stepsister, betrayed by my fiancé, and banished by my own family to the Ashfall Peninsula to die. The original girl actually starved to death in despair. The moment I opened my eyes, a scavenger tried to smash my skull with a rusty pipe just to eat me. After I killed him to survive, I discovered a harsher truth: in this universe, plant seeds are classified as A-level strategic resources, completely monopolized by the Imperium. But the universe had a sick sense of humor. A mandatory background scan suddenly triggered a galactic broadcast: I, the exiled trash, was a perfect genetic match for the Imperium's top war hero, General Alexander Orr. The family that ruthlessly erased my existence instantly saw me as a golden ticket. My cheating ex-fiancé was dispatched to drag me back, furious that his "property" was matched with someone else. They all thought I was still that weak, naive girl they could manipulate. But as I held the pure, glowing Life Source Crystals I had secretly extracted from the scrap heap, a cold smile crept onto my face. "I didn't come here to die. I came here to build an empire." I turned my back on the galactic broadcast and stepped into the deadly wilderness.

I knelt on the cold stone of the Dragon God Altar, waiting to marry Lord Harper Carney. It was my only chance to escape the gilded cage of my family. But when Harper finally arrived, he wasn't alone. His arm was wrapped tightly around my cousin, Hettie. Right in front of the entire court, he coldly announced that our marriage was a mistake. Hettie leaned into his embrace, wearing a triumphant smile while playing the innocent victim. The assembled nobles openly jeered at me. They mocked my greatest failing—that I was a worthless "Dragonless" born without the inner fire. My own father was furious, not at them, but at me. He demanded I go to Hettie's estate and beg for her forgiveness. When I refused, he threatened to cut off all my funds and revoke my only job at the Royal Scribes' Office. I was publicly abandoned, stripped of my dignity, and left with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. Why should I be the one to apologize when they were the ones who betrayed me? For years, I had endured their abuse, treated like a pawn to be sacrificed at will. But looking at their smug faces, my despair turned into cold resolve. I took off my betrothal coronet and dropped it at Harper's feet, publicly nullifying the contract myself. I thought I would have to face the ruin alone, until a mysterious, powerful man with burning golden eyes stepped out of the shadows. "Marry me," he said. "I will be your shield, and we will crush them together."

Lillian woke in a werecreature universe as a total loser. Good news was that women ruled here and could take multiple mates, yet she still ended up as the one everyone looked down on. Compared to her talented sister at every turn, she watched her first match get stolen and her next four mates reject her without mercy. The first mate was the King of Succubine himself. On their very first meeting, he warned Lillian that he was only staying long enough to recover from his injuries-and that there could never be anything between them. The second mate was a merman. He took one look at her and said he had no interest in a loser like her, tossing her some cash so she could break off their bond herself. The third mate was the progenitor vampire-over a thousand years old. He admitted to admiring her sister instead and made it clear he had no interest in a layabout like Lillian. Lillian cut every bond and chose her own path instead. But as she rose higher and higher, those same men returned, full of regret and begging her to look at them again. The fourth mate was a werewolf Lillian had rescued from an underground fighting ring. She thought he might actually stay-until he revealed himself as royalty. And of course, he wanted to break their bond for more power.

On my twenty-first birthday, I was just a broke orphan sitting in a dark apartment, staring at an overdue rent notice. A freak lightning strike suddenly shattered my reality, tearing me from Earth and dropping me into a primal alien jungle, where I was cornered by a massive white tiger. I thought I was dead, but I woke up in a high-tech hospital surrounded by people with animal ears, scales, and tails. The doctor looked at me with pity and delivered the crushing truth. "Earth is a lost world, Anya. To us, you are a purebred human relic." In this Varden Empire ruled by genetically superior Beastkin, I was painfully fragile, physically weak, and treated like a delicate museum exhibit. Worse, I learned that the monstrous tiger from the jungle was actually Marshal Jaxon Kensington, the ruthless and overwhelmingly powerful commander of the Imperial Army. I felt completely helpless and suffocated. I was trapped in an alien world where I was inferior to everyone, terrified of the military monster who had brought me here. Why was I dragged into this brutal universe just to be a weak specimen? What I didn't know was that the Empire's registry had just paired my DNA with the Marshal's, flashing an impossible 99% compatibility match. By Imperial Law, the cold, untouchable commander was now permanently bound to me, and his terrifying, primal obsession had just been awakened.

I was forced to replace my sister and marry Lord Gideon Carlisle, a crippled Dragon Lord rumored to be a monster whose brides always ended up dead. But the real danger wasn't my terrifying husband. It was Audrey, the fragile, innocent girl he took in and fiercely protected. She lured me to a cliff, confessed to murdering his first two brides, and tried to shove me into the abyss. When her clumsy attack failed and she nearly fell herself, Gideon's shadow guard rushed in to save her. But he only saw the aftermath. Audrey immediately burst into tears, pointing a shaking finger at me. "It was her! She pushed me! She tried to kill me!" Without hesitation, Gideon chose to believe his precious ward. He looked at me with cold, golden dragon eyes, condemning his own wife without a trial. He threatened me with dragon's flame and locked me in my chambers, while Audrey smiled triumphantly behind his back. I couldn't believe a supposedly brilliant Dragon Lord could be so utterly blind, protecting the very monster who had cursed his life while treating me like the villain. But I wasn't the weak, original bride who would just accept this injustice and die quietly. I calmly walked back into his study, pulled out a vial of Truth Serum, and forced it down Audrey's throat so my blind husband could finally hear the truth.

I took a blood-binding curse to save my younger sister Danae, ruining my magic affinity forever. Instead of gratitude, she stole our mother's token and convinced our father to dump me at a school for magical rejects. In my past life, I actually believed her sweet lies. I thought she was shielding me from the cruel aristocratic academies. I went to that unfashionable boarding school, only to be ground into dust by rogue curses and treated like garbage. Meanwhile, she lived in a palace, surrounded by devoted admirers and endless luxury. When I was finally dragged to the execution pyre, my own father and sister stood in the high stands, watching me burn alive with cold satisfaction. I died screaming in agony, clawing at my scorched skin, utterly betrayed by the family I had bled for. Until the flames consumed me, I didn't understand. Why did the sister I sacrificed everything for want me dead? Why was my devotion rewarded with a fiery grave? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the very morning of my departure to that trash magic school. Danae walked into my room with a warm mug of milk, a razor-thin smear of satisfaction flashing across her lips. She thought she was the only one who had returned to the past. "Sister, you look terrible. Did you have that nightmare again?" This time, I will gladly take the train to the school of rejects. Not to hide in shame, but to build an altar of bone and ruin out of everyone who burned me alive.

I entered a contractual marriage with Cyril Sweeney just to protect my antique restoration studio from local developers. I thought he was merely an eccentric, wealthy cargo pilot, but I soon realized I had married a monster. His skin was colder than ice, he could throw a grown man across a room effortlessly, and strangers in tailored suits dropped to their knees calling him "My Lord." But the most agonizing part was his violent rejection of me. Whenever I got close, or accidentally scraped my skin and bled, he would shove me away like I was a plague. His glacial eyes would turn pitch black, his throat convulsing as if fighting a demon. "Run before I kill you!" He roared at me with a feral, terrifying rasp, his hands clawing at his own throat. The final straw came when I found an antique pocket watch on his desk, holding a faded photograph of a young girl. I realized I wasn't a wife; I was just a convenient, nameless replacement for a ghost he still carried over his dead heart. I didn't understand why he looked at me with such desperate agony, nor why my blood drove him to the brink of madness. I didn't know the girl in the photograph was actually me from ten years ago. As I slammed my truck into reverse to escape his haunted glass villa, I had no idea the real nightmare was just beginning.

On my wedding day, I caught my fiancé in my stepsister's arms. She was pregnant with his child. And instead of begging for forgiveness, Damian Harrison laughed in my face. He admitted he had always planned to marry me, dump me in some forgotten country estate, and keep my stepsister as the woman he truly loved. So I burned my wedding veil in front of the entire Harrison family and walked away. That should have been the end of it. Instead, Damian's mother sent armed men after me. Why? Because I was a Dragonless nobody from the borderlands, and in her eyes, humiliating a Harrison was a crime worse than her son's betrayal. I had no dragon blood. No powerful family willing to protect me. Not even my own father would risk offending the Harrisons for my sake. If I wanted to survive, I needed someone they feared more than they hated me. So I returned to the Harrison estate and made an outrageous demand. I would marry Damian's uncle. Gideon Harrison-the legendary Dragon Lord, the kingdom's greatest war hero... and a man everyone believed was dead. Perfect. As his widow, I would outrank the man who betrayed me, become his aunt by marriage, and gain enough power to make every Harrison who humiliated me regret it. I signed the marriage pact without hesitation. Then a knight burst into the ancestral hall with impossible news. Gideon Harrison was alive. My dead husband wasn't dead. He was being brought home.

My engagement to Kile, the heir of House Golden, was witnessed by the Duke himself. I thought my days as a helpless orphan were over. But right before our wedding, he coldly informed me that my status was being revoked. I was to enter his family as a lesser consort. The title of primary wife was being given to his lover, Journey. She hid behind Kile, wearing a spotless white dress and trembling like a fragile lotus. "Cassie, please don't blame him, I can live without a title," she cried, playing the perfect victim. Kile shielded her, glaring at me with pure disgust, shouting that I was being completely unreasonable. The next day, the entire Elder Council cornered me in their grand hall. They told me that as a "Dragonless" nobody, I should be immensely grateful for any scrap they threw my way. They all stared at me, waiting for me to swallow my pride and accept a lifetime of humiliation. They thought I was entirely broken. They thought I had no backing and no choice but to bow down to their cruelty. Instead, I looked straight at the Chief Elder and smiled. "I refuse to be a lesser consort," I announced clearly, watching Kile's smug expression freeze. "But to preserve our families' dignity, I will fulfill the contract." I looked right into Kile's shocked eyes. "I will marry your dead older brother, Lord Ayden."

For five years, I poured my blood and sweat into restoring ancient manuscripts to save my fiancé Chalmers's family business from bankruptcy. But on the morning of our wedding, he abandoned me at the altar. He rushed off to comfort his childhood friend, Edla, who claimed to have a catastrophic injury. Under local guild laws, if I wasn't legally married by sunset, Chalmers's family would seize the proprietary rights to every single manuscript I had restored. When I went home to pack my things, Edla showed up leaning on Chalmers, wearing bandages stained with fake bakery dye and a luxury sweater that still had the anti-theft tag attached. She cried theatrical tears, begging me not to punish Chalmers. Instead of seeing her obvious lies, Chalmers called me a heartless, spiteful statue. He demanded I apologize, arrogantly offering a cheap steak dinner as compensation for my ruined wedding. He sneered that no man in town would ever marry a penniless orphan like me, and I would be begging on his doorstep by the end of the week. I looked at the man I had supported through 47 of Edla's orchestrated emergencies, feeling utterly disgusted by his endless manipulation and greed. Did he really think my dignity and my life's work were worth so little? I threw his cheap engagement ring directly into the greasy trash can. Then, I walked straight into the municipal registry hall and proposed to Everette Holmes—a paralyzed, debt-ridden outcast who radiated an unnerving, freezing aura. This time, I would rather tie my fate to a dangerous stranger than let Chalmers own my future.