Drowning In Betrayal, Rising Stronger

The university acceptance letter, a full scholarship, felt like my ticket out of our forgotten town. I was Chloe Davis, and for eighteen years, I' d studied, dreamed of this escape. But when I showed it to my father, Robert, his eyes didn' t gleam with pride, but with a calculating hunger I knew too well. He announced a "celebration," but it was no party-it was a twisted auction. Middle-aged men, reeking of stale beer, assessed me like livestock, stuffing cash into my father' s pockets as he paraded me around. A churning dread solidified in my gut: I was the prize. My mother, Susan, stood by, a ghost of a smile plastered on her face, turning away when my eyes pleaded for help. When I tried to escape Frank Miller' s sweaty grip, my father' s fury erupted. "Smile, Chloe," he hissed. "Don't you dare embarrass me." Later, for a piece of pie, he backhanded me across the face, leaving me bleeding and dizzy on the kitchen floor. My mother' s only reaction was a sigh of annoyance before she followed him, leaving me in the dark. Lying there, the truth hit me: their "love" was a lie; I was merely a commodity. Then, from their bedroom, I heard it-the monstrous plot. "Frank wants to marry her… a fifty-thousand-dollar 'dowry.' Enough for Kevin's wedding." "She's a good girl, deep down. She just needs to understand that this is for the good of the family. It's her duty." My entire life, my body, my future, sold to an old man to pay for my cousin' s wedding and my father' s gambling debts. But the final dagger was my mother' s next whisper, my father' s rough affirmation: Kevin wasn't my cousin. He was my half-brother, my father' s illegitimate son with his sister-in-law, the golden boy for whom I had always been second, always sacrificed. Every childhood slight, every dismissal, every manipulation clicked sickeningly into place. They hadn't wanted me to succeed; they had kept me small, easy to sell. The girl who craved their love died on that cold kitchen floor. A cold, hard resolve took root: they had a plan for my future, a prison disguised as a marriage. But I had a plan too. They thought I was a compliant girl. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

The last thing I remembered from my first life was the cold, damp despair of a prison cell. I was Dr. Ethan Blackwood, once a celebrated heart surgeon, slowly dying from a treatable infection. My life ended because of a single surgery, a complex heart transplant, and the betrayal of my ex-wife, Dr. Olivia Hayes, and her protégé, Liam Davis. They stitched a narrative of my instability and rage, painting me as a villain who abandoned his patient for personal vendettas, leading to Councilman Thompson' s death. I was convicted of medical malpractice and involuntary manslaughter, my license revoked, my reputation shattered, my life utterly destroyed. How could my trusted colleagues, who witnessed the truth, stand by and let such an egregious lie destroy me? Then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. In scrubs. Standing in the scrub room next to Operating Room 3, on the very day the tragedy had first unfolded.

The sterile scent of my forensic lab usually brought me comfort, an oasis where I rebuilt lives from bone. Tonight, it felt like a heavy shroud. As a forensic artist, I was nearing completion on Case 734-a "Jane Doe" skull-when her face, slowly emerging from the clay, tightened my stomach with sickening recognition. It was Eleanor Blackwood, my fiancé Ryan' s mother, vanished two years ago. I reached for my phone, hand trembling, to tell him the impossible truth: I' d found his missing mother' s remains. Before I could dial, the lab door creaked open, revealing two ski-masked figures; a primal fear choked me. A foul-smelling cloth descended, and the world went black. I woke to searing pain, the stench of blood, and pulsing music. My face a swollen mess, I was dragged to a brightly lit stage-a boxing ring built for a depraved spectacle. Then I saw him, leaning against the ropes: Ryan, my fiancé, laughing, his arm wrapped around Chloe Davis' s waist, kissing her. He swept his eyes over the stage, over me, without a flicker of recognition. To him, I was just "entertainment." "She' s a forensic artist! Think she can reconstruct her own face after tonight?" someone yelled, their words twisting my life' s purpose into a grotesque joke. He drunkenly slurred about needing to "blow off steam" before our wedding, then, goaded by Chloe, bought me for ten thousand dollars, his eyes filled with hatred for the "toy" who dared to "disrespect" him. He paid to destroy the woman carrying his child. And he was proud of it.

It was my eighteenth birthday, a day that should have been filled with joy, but the silence in the grand dining room was heavy with the ghost of my foster parents, gone too soon. Across from me sat Ethan, my foster uncle and the only family I had left, his serious gray eyes holding a warmth I foolishly mistook for something more, until I finally confessed my love for him. His reaction was swift and brutal; he called me disgusting, shameful, and a burden, his words shattering my heart as he left me to drown in humiliation and pain, only to reappear two years later with a beautiful fiancée. I clung to him, desperate, until one horrifying moment on a plummeting private jet when he ripped the parachute from my back, offering my life to save Tiffany' s, leaving me to fall into the abyss. Against all odds, I survived, pulling his broken body from the wreckage myself, only to wake and hear him praise Tiffany for saving his life, erasing my sacrifice and leaving me utterly broken, a quiet, chilling resolve settling in my soul.

For five years, the hum of servers was the only soundtrack to my quiet exile in Havenwood. I' d traded city lights for a beige cubicle in a tech support call center, a far cry from the life I once knew, after a spectacular fall from grace orchestrated by my ex-fiancée, Sophia Davis. I found a strange peace, a quiet contentment, building a new life from the wreckage of the old. Then, Sophia, flanked by her new fiancé, Mark, waltzed into my office, their expensive city clothes a stark violation of my humble world. She sneered at my surroundings, then offered me a "chance" to return to the city-as her pet project, if I' d just apologize. The entire office fell silent, my colleagues watching, seeing my only escape. I finally looked up, calm, and delivered the blow: "I'm married." Sophia froze, her face contorting in rage, shrieking about me lying, about who I could possibly marry in "this wasteland." Mark mocked my hypothetical wife, suggesting some "desperate single mom." My jaw tightened. "You don't get to talk about my wife," I growled, standing to tower over him. Sophia, furious, spotted a box of clumsy friendship bracelets my colleagues' children had made for my wife, and deliberately stomped on them, grinding them into the dirty floor. "Pathetic," she spat, her vicious satisfaction palpable. As she and Mark left, I stared at the crushed innocence, and for the first time in five years, a cold, hard anger began to burn. How could I have let myself be so naive, to truly believe I had escaped her?

"I'm pregnant." Ashley Roberts announced, her hand resting smugly on her flat stomach, eyes on my brother. It was April Fool's Day, but my parents weren't laughing. They erupted in joy, celebrating their impending grandchild. I stood by, a cold dread spreading through me. This wasn't just déjà vu; it was a horrifying replay of my past life. Ashley's fake pregnancy had been a trap, draining my parents' retirement for a luxury condo. Then, she came for me, demanding $100,000. "Sarah, you have to help," my mother had tearfully pleaded, "It's for your nephew! Don't you care about family?" I' d caved, took loans, sold my car, and gave her every penny. When her belly stayed flat, she faked a fall, blaming me for a "miscarriage." Mark, blinded by grief and her lies, believed her. He found me later, his eyes burning with rage. He beat me, broke my bones, and left me for dead in a dark alley. My last breath was a bitter regret: Why was I so weak? Then, I woke up, back in my bed, on April Fool's Day. A second chance. Now, watching them fall for the same lie, a simmering rage replaced my fear. This time, I wouldn't be financially stripped or manipulated. "Sarah, did you hear that? Ashley needs some help. You' re the aunt, you have to chip in. It' s your duty." My father nodded, "Your mother is right. We're all putting in our share. It's only fair." They expected me to sacrifice myself again. I put my coffee cup down. "No," I said, my voice clear and steady. The room fell silent. "What did you just say?" my father asked, his voice low and dangerous. "I said no. I'm not giving her a single dime."

After spending a night with a strange man on the day before her wedding, Arianna left the country to start her life afresh. The 22-year-old Arianna Jason lived her life pleasing those she loved the most, without knowing that she was simply a prey being nurtured for the day of her ruin. Her life has tasted the butter pill of betrayal. She wants to give back to the world what she's got but how can she change her good, innocent personality to fit into a cruel society and world? Can her sweet nature be contaminated, or will she make it through, paddling on the right path?

After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"

"End her, and burn her body." Those words rolled off cruelly from the tongue of my destined one-MY MATE. He stole my innocence, rejected me, stabbed me, and ordered me to be killed on our wedding night. I lost my wolf, left in a cruel realm to bear the pain alone... But my life took a twist that night-a twist that dragged me into the worst hell possible. One moment, I was the heir to my pack, and the next-I was a slave to the ruthless Lycan King, who was on the brink of losing his mind... Cold. Deadly. Unforgiving. His presence was hell itself. His name a whisper of terror. _He swore I was his, craved by his beast; to satisfy even if it breaks me_ Now, trapped in his dominant world, I must survive the dark clutches of the King who had me wrapped around his finger. However, within these dark reality, lies a primal fate....

"I heard you're going to marry Marcelo. Is this perhaps your revenge against me? It's very laughable, Renee. That man can barely function." Her foster family, her cheating ex, everyone thought Renee was going to live in pure hell after getting married to a disabled and cruel man. She didn't know if anything good would ever come out of it after all, she had always thought it would be hard for anyone to love her but this cruel man with dark secrets is never going to grant her a divorce because she makes him forget how to breathe.

Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all-from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn't return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel's terminal illness and realized she didn't have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."

Betrayed by her mate and sister on the eve of her wedding, Makenna was handed to the ruthless Lycan Princes as a lover, her indifferent father ignoring her plight. Determined to escape and seek revenge, she captured the interest of the three Lycan princes, who desired her exclusively amid many admirers. This complicated her plans, trapping her and making her a rival to the future Lycan queen. Entwined in jealousy and vindictiveness, could Makenna achieve her vengeance in the intricate dance with the three princes?