Tango

The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.

I woke up on my wedding day, the morning sun streaming into my opulent Charleston bedroom. But the taste of asphalt and blood was still in my mouth, memories of screeching tires and a crushing impact vivid in my mind. My stepfather' s perfect plan: a staged hit-and-run, his neat solution to inherit my mother' s fortune. Because I had died. Now I was back, alive, staring at the date-my wedding day, the day he had me killed. A wave of phantom pain, of broken bones and crushed hope, washed over me. Then I saw her: my stepsister, Brielle, in my custom wedding dress, admiring herself in the mirror. The sight was a physical blow, a reminder of the humiliation and betrayal I endured in my first life as they drugged me and locked me away. He walked in, Senator Richard Thorne, playing the concerned father, but his eyes were cold and full of the disappointment I' d known my whole life. He gaslighted me, painting me as hysterical, just as he did before, controlling everything. "Your mother is gone," he hissed, "And I control you. Don\'t you ever forget that." I was trapped, again, the crushing weight of powerlessness threatening to suffocate me. Rage, so profound it burned, replaced the despair. Why did I have to relive this nightmare, this perfect setup for my destruction? But something was different this time. The naive girl died on that dark road; I was what was left. If he wanted to control the Vance family, there would be no Vance family left to control, not the way he expected. I found my mother' s hidden failsafe: an encrypted flash drive, her "in case of Richard" file. It held years of meticulous corruption, a dossier so damning it would send him to federal prison for life. With a grim smile and a single click of the send button, I launched the nuclear option, sending it to the FBI, SEC, and every major news outlet. The game had changed, and they didn' t even know they were playing.

I was a warrior of the Shadow Council, but to my Fated Mate, Darwin, I was just a barren, "useless" housewife. On the night I planned to finally reveal my pregnancy, his mistress threw herself against a railing, framing me for attempted murder. Blinded by the Red Haze, Darwin didn't ask questions. He used his Alpha Command to freeze me in place, paralyzing my body. Then, he delivered a bone-shattering kick directly to my stomach to "protect" his mistress. I fell backward into the freezing lake, the water turning red around me. That kick didn't just end our marriage; it killed the rare White Wolf pup I was carrying—the legendary heir he had always desperate for. While I washed away into the dark water, Darwin was left with a lying mistress and a severed bond. It took him days to find the security footage. It took him moments to realize he had murdered his own soul and his true son for a woman who had orchestrated my death. For ten years, he went mad with grief, turning into a monster who tortured those who deceived him, praying to the Moon Goddess for my return. He thought if he fixed my broken engagement ring, I would forgive him. But when I finally resurfaced, I didn't come back to be his Luna. I watched him beg on his knees in the rain, clutching the phantom thread of our bond, looking like a corpse. "I love you," he screamed. I slammed the car door in his face. Gloria the housewife died in that lake. Echo, the executioner, has returned to burn his kingdom to the ground.

My husband, the Capo of New York, gripped my hand as we walked into the soundproofed room. He wasn't there to save me. He was there to watch the family doctor carve out my mind. A stranger named Sofia claimed I had sold her to a brothel twelve years ago. It was a lie. But Dante looked at me with cold marble eyes, believing the woman sobbing in his arms over the wife he had vowed to protect. "Sit, Elena," he ordered. He strapped me into the chair. He watched as they injected liquid fire into my veins to force a confession. He dragged me to the kennels, forcing me to feed the dogs I was terrified of, and watched as they tore into my flesh. He even locked me in a freezer to "cool off" my jealousy. The final straw wasn't the pain. It was hearing him plan a Vow Renewal with Sofia, intending to parade me as her Maid of Honor to teach me humility. I realized then that Elena Moretti had to die. So, I set the hospital room on fire. I left my wedding ring in the ashes and vanished into the night. Six months later, Dante found me in Paris. He fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness. I looked at him with dead eyes and handed him a knife. "Kill yourself," I said. "That is the only way I will believe you are sorry."

The scent of stale coffee and disinfectant. That' s how the world came back, as I slumped in a hard plastic chair at the police station. "Mr. Miller, we have no record of a child named Leo." Those words hung in the air, heavy and impossible. They said I' d gone to the kindergarten in a panic, claiming my child was missing, but the principal and teachers swore they' d never seen me with a child. My wife, Ava, arrived, confused and scared, denying we had a son. They showed me security footage: me, gesturing wildly at an empty space. My phone was empty too; all photos, all videos of Leo, gone. The crushing weight of their disbelief, the pity mixed with annoyance, made me feel like an insane man who had invented a son. Had I failed him? Had I let him disappear? Was I just crazy? The self-blame was suffocating. Then, I blinked. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across our familiar bedroom wall. The digital clock read 7:05 AM. It was the same day the nightmare began. I heard a child' s high-pitched giggle from the kitchen. It was Leo. Hope surged through me. A second chance. This time, I wouldn't fail.

The Country Music Awards after-party was buzzing, but the real show started when my husband, Ethan, walked in with Sabrina, the TikTok singer he' d been championing. His cruel smirk, the scandal washing over the room-it was the public humiliation he'd always wanted, and he was looking right at me. Then, my mother-in-law, Eleanor, a woman who despised me for surviving the crash that killed her daughter, Chloe, dropped a bomb. She announced my supposed "barrenness" to the entire Nashville elite, mocking me as "useless to this family," while Sabrina, Ethan's mistress, cooed about giving him the family I never could. My calm façade shattered when I coughed, a violent, hacking spasm, and the wet warmth in my palm revealed a terrifying truth: blood. Later, Ethan found me, wiping the blood from my hand with disgust. He accused me of faking illness, then leaned in, whispering, "You want to know the only way I'll ever forgive you for Chloe? You have to die." He thought I was finally broken, but my heart had already turned to dust. How could he believe such a monstrous lie? Why did everyone embrace the narrative that I, the sole survivor of a tragic accident, was a murderer, instead of the truth? My only escape was silence, the hidden battle against a disease stealing me away, and the desperate hope his hatred would finally set him free. I walked out into the Tennessee rain, leaving him to his party, knowing my final act would be to give him everything he wanted – my absence – in a way he' d never forget.

I was a Davenport heiress, engaged to Blake Vanderbilt III. My old-money life seemed perfectly scripted, culminating tonight at the Spinsters' Ball. My cousin, Savannah, the family charity case, was always my dearest confidante, urging me to "live a little" and ignore whispers about my weight. But at the ball, Blake shattered it all. Under blinding flashes, he publicly declared his love for Savannah: "The engagement is off. I cannot marry an embarrassment." He looked directly at me. The whispers turned to roars. The Boston tabloids screamed, "Hefty Heiress Dumped at Debut," pairing my tear-streaked face with Savannah's triumphant smile. Back home, Savannah, dripping crocodile tears, twisted the knife, confessing her years-long campaign. "You sat around...eating cake," she sneered, exposing her malice. How could the girl I'd shared my home and everything with orchestrate such public humiliation? Why was I so blind to her calculated sabotage, her sweet encouragement a poison meant to destroy me? There was no anger, no heartbreak… just an unsettling calm and a sudden, clear vision. They expected tears, begging, a scene. But when she claimed my grandmother's heirloom pearls, something snapped. I snatched them back. I left the mockery behind, walking away from the life they thought they'd destroyed. They had no idea who they were truly dealing with.

I'm Ava Sterling, and my stepfather Richard had commandeered the Sterling ballroom for my stepsister Chloe' s lavish birthday. She was just a scholarship student, but he doted on her, while I watched her expertly play the sweet, overwhelmed girl. Mid-party, Richard tapped his champagne flute, and the mood shifted. My stepbrother Ethan put a proprietary arm around Chloe, and Richard announced she'd been viciously cyberbullied. Then, Ethan turned and glared, fixing his gaze directly on me. Richard, in a disappointed tone, demanded I apologize to Chloe publicly, "Now." The crowd murmured, their judgment palpable, instantly believing the underdog narrative. Later, as I tried to slip away, Ethan cornered me, still seething. He grabbed my phone, then my arm, his grip tightening. In the struggle, he shoved me with brutal force. I stumbled, then crashed, landing in the dessert table amidst shattered pastries, cake, and frosting, a sharp pain shooting through my wrist. Laughter erupted. Lying there, humiliated and sticky with cake, a cut on my arm bleeding, I watched Chloe feign horror and Ethan look down with cold satisfaction. How could my own family do this? How could they orchestrate such a public disgrace for a lie? The betrayal was absolute, the injustice a burning inferno. Desperate, I was escorted out, but I knew what I had to do. With unwavering resolve, I called my mother, Victoria Sterling, across oceans. Her voice, usually calm, turned to chilled steel, promising a "clean house" upon her return. My era of quiet endurance was over.

Tonight, I, Emily, stood proudly at Ivy Glen Winery’s Annual Harvest Gala. My new Cabernet was launching, the culmination of three years transforming my in-laws' struggling vineyard into a national name as its CEO. Then my husband Kevin walked in, arm-in-arm with Jessica, his visibly pregnant college ex, and snatched the microphone. He slurred, branding me a "placeholder" and firing me, both as CEO and his wife, proclaiming Jessica’s child the "real" Parker heir. A hush fell, then whispers. The crowd, quick to condemn, watched as he offered a measly hundred thousand dollars for my years of effort. Jessica preened, boasting about being the "rightful" Mrs. Parker, reminding everyone I had no formal employment contract. Everything I built seemed to crumble. How could he? After everything I poured into this place, into *us*? To be so casually discarded, so utterly humiliated in front of everyone, felt like a cruel joke. Was I truly just a temporary convenience, a "nobody" without him, as he sneered? With a steady hand, I signed the brutal divorce papers, intending to walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back. But just then, my in-laws, Richard and Susan, stepped forward, and the true bombshell dropped: "Emily is our daughter. Our true blood. The rightful heir to Ivy Glen."

My wife didn't want to have children, so we agreed to have sterilization surgery together. Little did I know, she regretted it after I had the surgery. She said, "I feel like two people should have a child together. Now that you've had the surgery, I'll have to find someone else like Nick, and when the child is born, we can raise it together." It turns out she had already made up her mind to have a child with someone else. So I smiled and said, "Okay." But as she wished, I asked for a divorce. Now she regrets it.

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

Skylar thought she had it all until Liam, her boyfriend, betrayed her. She was broken and furious until she met Ryder,the gruff captain of the hockey team and feared alpha of a ruthless biker gang. She planned to use him for revenge. But Ryder's dangerous gaze made her question everything. When her family gave her a risky mission tied to Ryder's pack, secrets long hidden were revealed pulling her deeper into a world she barely understood. Now she's caught between two worlds and one question haunts her: Was she using him... or was he claiming her?

The last thing I remembered was Chloe's voice, sharp and gleeful, slicing through the haze of my headache: "They never loved you, Ava. Not Liam, not Noah. It was always me." Her words were a hammer blow, each one a nail in the coffin of my life, a searing supernova of agony that exploded behind my eyes before everything faded to black. I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my childhood bed, my unlined hands proof of a terrifying truth: I was back, the calendar on my desk screaming September 5th, senior year, before the nightmare truly began. The reel of my first life rewound in fast-forward: Stanford, the calculated betrayals by Liam and Noah, Chloe's venomous strings, the engineered vasectomies, my promising career systematically destroyed, and the aneurysm that ended it all. This was impossible, a future I'd already lived, a death I'd already died, yet the worn duvet felt real, the scent of my mother's pancakes too vibrant—a second chance, if I dared to seize it, to change everything. My fingers flew across the keyboard, deleting Stanford from my early college applications and replacing it with MIT—my true dream, the one they had ruthlessly crushed. Just then, the doorbell rang, and through the frosted glass, I saw them: Liam Walker, Noah Chen, and Chloe Jenkins, the architects of my past ruin, their bright smiles and feigned innocence an instant surge of cold dread.

I was the scholarship girl with a 4.0 GPA, dating the untouchable Branson Ayers. My dream of winning the Rhodes Scholarship was just one interview away. Then, a deepfake video with my face on it destroyed my life overnight. The scholarship was gone, and suddenly, I was the girl from the video. I ran to Branson for help, only to overhear the horrifying truth from behind a hedge. He' d orchestrated the whole thing to give the scholarship to his childhood sweetheart, Kennedy. But the cruelest cut was the second secret. For two years, the passionate man who came to me in the dark wasn't my boyfriend at all. It was his identical twin brother, Hanson. I was just a pawn in their sick game-a body for Hanson to use while Branson kept himself "pure" for the woman they both loved. When I called my parents, they didn't ask if I was okay. They disowned me for shaming the family and booked me a one-way ticket to London. Betrayed, used, and discarded by everyone I trusted, I took the flight. But as the city lights disappeared below, I made a vow. One day, I would return. And they would regret ever thinking they could destroy me.

I was Chloe, the Ashtons' beloved adopted daughter for eighteen perfect years, secure in my identity as I eagerly awaited SATs and an Ivy League future. But then came the dream: a chilling premonition of a stranger, Olivia, claiming my parents, sabotaging my SATs, and tearing my world apart. I woke up terrified, dismissing it as stress. Until that evening, the doorbell rang. There she was. Olivia. Tearful, shaky, telling Mom and Dad Ashton, "I think you're my mother." My blood ran cold. Just like the dream, she settled in, a constant, unsettling presence. To my parents, she was perfect. To me, her eyes were cold, filled with malicious glee. She whispered lies, implying my life should have been hers, painting my biological family as poor and neglectful. She tried to sabotage my SATs, disabling my alarms and offering tainted food, and even snatched my cherished locket from my neck. A terrible feeling washed over me as the dream unfolded, every detail unnervingly accurate. How could this be happening? Why was she so bent on destroying me? It wasn't just unfair; it felt supernatural. But through my dread, a strange clarity emerged: this wasn't just a nightmare. It was a warning. I remembered dream-Olivia, the one who smiled as my world crumpled. This time, I wouldn't let it happen. Armed with foresight, I wouldn't just survive; I would fight back. I knew this was just the beginning, but I also knew exactly how to change the ending.

"You are in love with me, aren't you?" He whispered seductively into her ear. **** Elizabeth Bennett thought her life couldn't get any worse. Losing her twin in a hurricane had shattered her world, forcing her to move states and leave behind everything-friends, family, and a sense of identity. At eighteen, she believed she had endured enough. But then she arrived at Hollands High... and caught the attention of the very person she was meant to avoid. Patrick Diego was many things-charming, untouchable, dangerous. But to Elizabeth, he was something else entirely. Her bully. The one who seemed determined to make her life miserable, never missing a chance to remind her that she didn't belong. But what happens when she stumbles upon his soft side? Will her feelings change the narrative between them, or will falling for him only lead to more heartbreak?

I died once trying to be a hero. It was after high school graduation, at Brad Thompson' s notorious "End of the World Bash" lake party. I warned everyone about the spiked punch and Brad's predatory nature, but my girlfriend Tiffany scoffed, and my childhood friend Sarah, blinded by her crush on Brad, turned away. They went, everyone went, except me. Later, Sarah blamed me for ruining her shot with Brad; one rainy Tuesday, she found me and ended my first life with a knife. Then, I woke up, gasping, back in my high school bedroom, reliving the day Brad would announce his party. I wasn't dead. But then I saw Sarah in the hallway. She remembered everything too. And her already dangerous obsession with Brad had intensified, chillingly so. "This time, I' m going to be by Brad' s side. No matter what," she whispered, a promise that sent shivers down my spine. I tried to avert disaster, to warn everyone away from that party, but Tiffany broke up with me for being a 'buzzkill.' Brad' s jock friends cornered me, forcing me to attend. I desperately tried to record Brad admitting his punch was spiked, but they caught me. Brad had his goons lock me in the boathouse, just before the cops raided. But instead of being safe, it was worse. Sarah pointed at me, claiming, "He' s the one who brought the spiked punch!" Tiffany and Brad quickly corroborated her lie. I was arrested, charged with felony drug distribution, for something I had fought to prevent. My childhood friend, now my accuser, was willing to destroy my life to preserve her twisted fantasy with Brad. Her obsession was a cancer, eating away at her humanity, and I was caught directly in its malignant path. Was this second chance just another slow, agonizing death, orchestrated by the very person who ended my first? My confiscated phone might hold hidden fragments of truth. Could those damaged recordings be my only proof, my sole hope to prove my innocence and change a grim fate once more?

When seventeen-year-old Maya's mother remarries, she's thrust into a new life with her wealthy stepfather-and his devastatingly attractive son, Adrian, who happens to be the most sought-after guy at her new elite private school.