JANICE KELLEY

I was the crippled joke of the Silver Ridge Pack, while my cousin Elara was the perfect future Luna. When a seemingly weak rogue named Dravon arrived to claim Elara as his fated mate with a bouquet of withered flowers, she publicly humiliated and rejected him. To save the pack's face, I stepped up and accepted his bond, becoming the ultimate laughingstock. Elara tossed his wedding gift—those withered weeds—into a muddy animal trough. Out of quiet defiance, I picked them out of the slop and ate the mud-stained petals. But those weeds turned out to be mythical Blood Moonflowers, priceless treasures that triggered a violent, agonizing healing process in my cursed leg. Seeing my pain, my terrified mother and the arrogant pack healer restrained my mate. "Apply the silver dust salve," the healer declared proudly, ignoring Dravon's desperate warnings. Silver was a death sentence for my dark magic curse. I lay helpless on the cot, watching my own mother eagerly assist the man about to permanently destroy my leg. Why was my family so blind? Why did they always choose to break me? Just as the deadly silver paste was about to touch my skin, a terrifying, god-like pressure suddenly shattered the air in the tent. My "weak" rogue mate's voice echoed directly in my mind. "Close your eyes. Don't be afraid."

Tonight was supposed to be Cordelia's grand engagement party, the night she finally secured her future. But an hour before the banquet, she received an anonymous video. Her fiancé was in the hotel's penthouse, tangled in the sheets with her stepsister. They had even paid off her trusted staff to keep her isolated. Cordelia didn't shed a single tear. She walked onto the grand stage, hijacked the screens, and broadcasted their betrayal to hundreds of New York's elite. She tore up the multimillion-dollar prenup and threw the pieces in his face. "The engagement is canceled. My legal team will seize your family's assets by tomorrow morning." But instead of support, her own father violently grabbed her wrist, furious that she ruined their reputation. Her stepmother tried to slap her for the cameras, and her ex-fiancé threatened to completely destroy her career. Surrounded by the people who were supposed to be her family, she was treated like the villain. Just as she was cornered, Justice Duncan, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street, stepped out of the shadows. He offered her absolute protection and capital, but only if she signed a five-year contract marriage to mother his four-year-old heir. But when Cordelia finally met the little boy, her blood ran completely cold. The boy was the exact baby she was told she had miscarried four years ago. And the billionaire handing her the marriage contract was the same stranger who had taken him.

I snuck into the Long Island estate’s private study, desperate to find my boyfriend, Channing, and beg him for the money to save my mother’s life. But when I wrapped my arms around the man standing in the dark, I felt a body of cold, hard muscle that didn't belong to Channing. The lights flickered on, and I found myself pinned against the window by Constantine Warner, the ruthless head of the empire who despised me more than anyone on earth. He didn't pull away; he held me there, his gray eyes burning with a mix of razor-sharp disgust and a dark, violent hunger that terrified me to my core. Outside the room, my boyfriend Channing walked in, but instead of defending me, he laughed at my humiliation just to please his powerful brother. I was left with nothing—no money for my mother’s surgery, no dignity, and the haunting realization that the man who hated me most was the only one who truly saw me. Why did Constantine look at me like I was his prey, and what happens when the parasite finally decides to bite back?

In my last life, my fiancé and stepsister stole my company and left me for dead. Now, reborn, I have to watch it all happen again. At a lavish ball, Christian publicly humiliates me, flaunting his affair with my stepsister, Genevieve. They think I'm the same weak woman who will crumble. Genevieve even steals the one proposal that could save my mother's legacy, texting me that I'll end up with nothing. At a family dinner, Christian tries to force my hand, falsely announcing we're already married to secure his position. He expects me to play along in front of the one man who could change everything: the legendary tech titan, Immanuel Romero. But I refuse. When Christian grabs me in a rage, a powerful hand stops him. Immanuel Romero steps between us, his voice like ice. "Never touch her again." Then, he looks at the stunned room and makes an announcement that shatters their entire plan. "Eliana is my fiancée."

For three years, I made my husband, Kane Chandler's, life a living hell. The day my family went bankrupt, he became a billionaire and handed me divorce papers. "My true love has returned," he said coldly. "I have no more use for you." To save my desperate family, I was forced to accept his cruel offer: become his live-in mistress. I had to serve him and his perfect new girlfriend, Astrid, in the penthouse that was once my home, enduring his cold, calculated revenge every single day. But then I stumbled upon a devastating secret. His "true love" Astrid was secretly plotting with his brother, Cade-the man I once adored-to destroy him from the inside. Astrid begged me to steal a file from Kane's safe, claiming it was the only way to save him from blackmail. I agreed, ready to sacrifice myself to set him free. I never imagined this was the final move in a twisted, three-year-long test of love he had designed just for me.

I was the fiancée of Bryant Barnes, the cold heir to a tech empire. Our engagement was a dynastic merger, a picture-perfect lie splashed across magazines. But behind closed doors, our life was a bizarre war fought with money and public humiliation. The war turned brutal when his mistress, Kalia, broke into our home with her friends and had me beaten, stomping on my hand until it broke. I pressed charges, but when Bryant arrived at the police station, he took one look at my bruised face and walked past me to comfort a sobbing Kalia. "Don't make a scene, Charlotte," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. He had them released without a second thought. The final betrayal came when Kalia pulled me into a lake. I can't swim. Bryant dove in, swam right past me to save her, and turned his back as I sank beneath the water, leaving me to die. A stranger pulled me out. In that moment, I finally understood. It wasn't that he was incapable of love; he was just incapable of loving me. For the one he loved, he would destroy anyone. For the one he didn't, he would leave her for dead. The last embers of my foolish love turned to ash. Lying in my hospital bed, I took out my phone and called the one man who had ever shown me kindness. "Jaden," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to burn it all to the ground."

Six months after losing my husband, Mark, I was a ghost in my own life, scrolling through Instagram when a photo ripped me from my numbness. It was Chloe' s account, a former intern I' d mentored, but the background-our living room. My living room. Only it wasn' t. The minimalist haven I designed was desecrated by gaudy gold wallpaper, a hideous leopard-print sofa, and a cheap crystal chandelier. Strangers laughed, red plastic cups in hand, in the space Mark and I built as a testament to our love. The house, bleeding, was screaming. Chloe was at its center, champagne flute in hand, her arm around David, Mark' s business partner. My husband' s friend. He smiled smugly, possessively, kissing her cheek. The caption: "New beginnings in our new home! Out with the old, in with the new! #blessed #bosslife." Our new home? My blood ran cold. My kitchen, painted garish pink. My garden, a frat house with a hot tub and beer bottles. They had taken my sanctuary, our legacy, and turned it into a mockery. The rage arrived like a physical blow, a hot spike in my chest. My hands shook, but my mind was terrifyingly clear. I called David. "What the hell are you and Chloe doing in my house?" His slick, unbothered voice, punctuated by Chloe' s infuriating giggle, coolly informed me Mark had signed everything over to him. It was his house now. His company. All perfectly legal. "People do strange things when the end is near," he sneered, dismissing Mark as a mere business transaction. He hung up, leaving me with the silence screaming in my ears. Just a house. It wasn' t just a house. It was my life. The last piece of Mark. And they had taken it, desecrated it, and were laughing. The grief that had fogged my world for six months burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. They thought I was beaten, a grieving widow easily pushed aside. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I am a brilliant architect. I am meticulous. I see the flaws in every design, the stress points in every structure. And I designed that house. They' d started a war. I was going to finish it.

My life was finally mending after the nightmare that shattered everything. I was rebuilding my academic career, my family was recovering, and my fiancé, David, and I were slowly piecing our lives back together. Then, a text message flashed across my phone, sending a shot of ice through my veins: a seemingly innocent invitation from my old friend, Kate, to a university exhibit preview. My stomach clenched, remembering the chilling déjà vu. Last time, that exact invitation led to a priceless historical artifact appearing in my bag, my academic dreams dissolving into dust. It cost my parents their retirement savings, tarnished David’s promising career, and culminated with me bleeding out, left for dead in a desolate parking lot by a deranged fanatic. I knew this was the trap again, meticulously set. How could I possibly prove my innocence when the truth had failed me before? But I wasn’t the naive victim I once was. This time, I had a plan, born from the bitter ashes of my past. I made a desperate, calculated choice: I got intentionally drunk and drove. The flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror were a grim confirmation of my sacrifice, my pre-planned alibi. They would arrest me, document my whereabouts, miles away and undeniably off-campus when the theft surely occurred. This time, the system couldn't use me. This time, I would fight back to expose the real mastermind, no matter the cost.

My decorated PMC team leader wife, Sarah, asked the impossible: be a live target for her protégé Dylan's shooting qualification. I agreed, suppressing my own combat medic skills and hidden past as my CIA father’s son, all for her, trusting she’d ensure safety with “non-lethal” rounds. The instant the first bullet tore into my thigh, searing pain exploding through me, I knew Dylan had swapped live ammunition. As he systematically shot me, shattering my hand and destroying my fertility, Sarah stood by, dismissing my screams as “dramatic” and her “savior” Dylan’s cruel acts as mere training. She tightened my restraints, praised his accuracy, and accused my loyal teammate Maria of jealousy and faking when she tried to intervene, even after Dylan shot Maria too. How could the woman I’d secretly saved, the hero firefighter who once rescued my sister and me, be so utterly blind and complicit in my torture, believing every poisonous lie from her manipulative golden boy? Only when my sister Emily burst in, interrupting Dylan’s final kill shot, and security footage exposed his monstrous deception, did Sarah's delusion shatter. But by then, I was already rebuilt, untethered from her, ready to finally choose myself. I donated every cent Sarah left, facing her ultimate end with a profound, unburdened peace.

Locked away in a mental health center, my only window to the outside was a rickety tablet. I watched, hopeful, as my sister Chloe walked down the aisle, her smile a burst of sunlight on her wedding day. But the joyful scene shattered in an instant. A woman, face grotesquely scarred, shrieked venomous accusations about Chloe ruining her life. Without a word of defense, her fiancé Mark, twisted with rage, slapped Chloe across the face, declared her "poison," and had her violently dragged away to a sinister "farm" for "purification." The livestream cut out, leaving me in stunned silence. Then came Mom’s call, her voice a thin, broken wire: Chloe was gone. Dead. An "accident" at that farm, they said, left without medical help. When Mom tried to get answers, Mark’s men beat her and threw her out. My sister, the kindest soul, was brutally taken from us. Chloe, gone due to such callous cruelty and calculated neglect? The unbearable injustice, the suffocating grief, sparked a suppressed fury I’d carried for years. They called me dangerous, diagnosed me with an explosive disorder, and for years, I'd fought it. But now, that dark fire felt like the only truth. No longer fighting my demons, I unleashed them. In a cold, calculated move, I forced my way out of that institution, leaving chaos in my wake. The cool Oregon air hit my face, carrying the scent of impending rain and undeniable revenge. My sister deserved justice, and I was going to deliver it, no matter the cost.

Lola is forced to marry Basil against her will. Basil is the epitome of mystery. Nobody knows what he is up to nor does anyone dare to unravel the secret behind his mysterious demeanor. On their wedding day, Basil throws a document on his newly wedded wife, not giving her a moment of relief. Lola’s life is shattered when she learns this is going to be a loveless marriage. It claims that the marriage would come to an end as soon as she gives birth to his child! It turns out he only agreed to marry her just so she would produce an heir for his family. Repulsed and angry, Lola is consumed with rage. However, she agrees to all of it. But deep down, she is plotting revenge.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

Emberly, an esteemed scientist of the Imperial Federation, took her own life after completing important research. She was reborn, and just like in her first life, she was born into a wealthy family. She could’ve lived a carefree and prosperous life. However, the babies got mixed up in the hospital and she was taken home by another family from the countryside. Her foster parents later found out the truth and brought her to her real family, but they didn’t like her. Her evil adopted sister even loathed her. She was framed and ultimately, she died in prison. But in her next life, she refused to stay a coward and swore she would take revenge on all who wronged her. She would only care about those who were truly good to her and turn a blind eye to her heartless family. In one life, she had once experienced darkness and been trampled upon like an ant. In another, she had stood on top of the world. This time, she only wished to live for herself. As if a switch had gone on inside of her, she suddenly became the best at everything she put her mind to. He won the math contest, topped the college entrance exams, and solved an age old question... Later, she garnered countless scientific research achievements. People who had once slandered her and looked down on her cried bitterly and begged her for a patent authorization. She just sneered at them. No way! This was a world without faith, but the world put their faith in her. Austin, the heir to a powerful aristocratic family in the imperial capital, was cold-hearted and decisive. He scared anyone who laid eyes on him. Unbeknownst to everyone, he doted on one woman: Emberly. Nobody knew that his desire for her grew stronger with every passing day. She brought light to his originally dull and gloomy life.

The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss. As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family. In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter. I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate. I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath. Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again. She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house.

I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured. Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence. "In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates." No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life. I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out? Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.

In my first life, poverty was my only teacher. I learned to read a man's greed before he spoke and to navigate systems designed to crush the weak. Now, I am Lady Elowen Ashford, a noblewoman sold by her own family to the formidable Duke Alaric Ravenshollow to pay for sins I didn't commit. In the Kingdom of Stalla, power isn't just held in gilded thrones, it is traded in the shadow economy beneath them. From the silk-draped salons where noblewomen sharpen their fans like daggers, to the soot-stained alleys of the black market, I am no longer a victim. I am the auditor.

Mileena Holland is the daughter of the head warriors of the royal Lycans pack called "The Nightingale". When Mileena shifts at five something had happen that never in a million years anyone will think that could happen. She became a white Lycan. Throughout the years, some consider her a blessing, while others consider it to be abomination. That she will get bullied by other children. Finally her mother was fed up and left the pack taking Mileena with them but something happen that shocked Mileena and her mother all together. Her father stayed behind. From there both women had left the pack and became rouges, eventually they found a pack to settle in, everything got better till rouges attack killing some members including her mother. Will Mileena seek revenge, or will she finally become broken?

I don't remember how I got here. One moment, a crushing weight, the roar of a furious crowd, a sharp, final pain. The next, nothing. Then, a flicker. A cold, sharp light that formed a heavy, cream-colored cardstock. Gold letters shimmered: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Ethan Davis and Mia Thompson. Ethan Davis. My uncle. The man who raised me, mentored me, then destroyed me. Mia Thompson. That' s my name. The invitation dissolved. I landed, an unseen observer, in a sun-drenched garden. At the altar, under a floral arch, stood Ethan. Then the music swelled. The bride walked down the aisle. The woman in the white dress was me. She had my face, my dark hair, even the tiny mole above my lip. But her smile was too sharp, her gaze too possessive. It was Chloe Miller. The scene ripped away. I was hurled back to the day my life ended. On a stage, my masterpiece, "Nexus," projected behind me. "This is a lie!" Chloe' s voice sliced through the applause. "She stole it! Nexus is my work!" The crowd turned savage. Cameras flashed. I sought Ethan, the one person who knew the truth. "Ethan, tell them," I begged, my voice a pathetic whisper. "Tell them the truth." He looked at me. Guilt, then cold, calculated resolve. He stepped to the microphone. "I am deeply disappointed. Our company is built on integrity. We cannot and will not tolerate intellectual theft." My death sentence. The world exploded. "Thief!" "Fraud!" Hands grabbed, tearing at my clothes. Rage-contorted faces. I fell. The last thing I saw was Ethan turning his back, his arm around Chloe, as the mob swallowed me whole. Now, a ghost at my own wedding. My uncle was marrying my murderer. The invitation said he was marrying me. The irony was a bitter taste. They wouldn't even let me rest. They' d stolen my work, my reputation, my life. Now, my very face. But a new feeling solidified within my spectral form. Rage. They would not get their happy ending. I would burn their perfect world to the ground.

I woke up, flung ten years into the past, carrying the crushing weight of a previous life I desperately needed to undo. My last memories were of Ava's lifeless face in a casket, her death the culmination of my twisted, misguided vengeance. I had systematically tortured her, believing she embodied all my pain, only to discover she was the anonymous donor who' d literally given her heart to save my life. That unbearable truth, revealed too late, plunged me into an abyss of guilt, leading to a brutal, self-sacrificial atonement. Now, miraculously reborn, I was determined to rewrite history, save my family, and fiercely protect Ava from the torment I once inflicted. I vowed to earn her love, to prove I was worthy of the sacrifice I brutally repaid. But as I found her in this new timeline, thriving and happy, she was engaged to another man and completely indifferent to me. Her calm rejection cut deeper than any physical pain, a stark reminder of the love I had irredeemably destroyed. Can I ever truly amend the monstrous past, or am I forever condemned to watch her happiness from afar, haunted by the memory of the woman I needlessly lost?

For sixteen years, I was a phantom in the Miller house, my entire existence centered on raising Caleb. My destiny was sealed: on his 21st birthday, I was to become his wife, a debt my family couldn't pay. In my first agonizing life, that wedding day led to a decade of imprisonment in their dark basement, then a horrific sale to the depraved Scrap Yard Joe, who brutally murdered me and my two young daughters. But then, a miracle: I jolted awake, it was Caleb' s 21st birthday party again. I was back. This time, I vowed to escape, coldly telling Caleb the "deal was off." His fury, fueled by his new girlfriend Chloe, erupted. They dragged me to their root cellar, where Chloe actively tried to crush me with cinder blocks. Escaping a terrifying encounter with Scrap Yard Joe, Chloe's eerie accomplice from my past, I returned to the party only to be publicly framed. A panicked confrontation led to the tragic, accidental death of Caleb' s mother-a death later revealed to be orchestrated by Chloe' s slow poison. I was beaten, battered, and finally, locked in the basement again as Chloe set it on fire, intending to burn me alive. Lying amidst the flames, every fiber of my being screamed. Why had my attempt at freedom only resulted in such a brutal, fiery trap? Was this wretched family, and the ghosts of my past, truly inescapable? Yet, fate had a cruel twist. I miraculously survived, forcing Caleb to believe me dead, consumed by guilt. He began a meticulous, horrifying revenge on Chloe, mirroring the torment I endured. Then, in the climax of his depravity, just as he raised a hunting knife over Chloe' s pregnant belly, a scarred, living ghost walked into the room: Me. And his world shattered.

I woke up with a gasp on the day of my debutante ball, the most anticipated event of the Texas social season. My eyes snapped open to the familiar silk canopy, but a strange, phantom pain still clung to my last breath. My custom-designed gown, perfected over months with the couturier, was gone from its stand. This void, this seemingly small act, brought a cold dread, sharp and entirely too familiar. Because in my previous life, this "missing" dress was the very first tiny crack, the prelude to a cascade of betrayals. I remembered Savy' s brazen appearance, her stolen spotlight, her smug face, Brent' s weak compliance, Grayson' s cruel dismissal. Their collective treachery had led to my father' s "accidental" death, my shocking disinheritance, a hellish rehabilitation facility, and my own lonely, mysterious end. They thought they had won; they thought they had erased me for good. The sheer, agonizing injustice of their victory, the vivid memories of my suffering, burned hotter than any fire. How could I have let them destroy my family, my legacy, my very self, without a fight? But they didn't know I was back. I had reawakened on this pivotal morning, carrying every single agonizing memory of their deceit and my demise. This time, there would be no panic, no helplessness, only a chilling, absolute resolve to reverse my tragic fate. I was Aurora Sterling, and I was taking my life back, one strategic move at a time.