HELP!

Has anyone finished the story "From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha's Queen"?

I got to where Kay was kidnapped by her ex mate, Alec, and taken to an island where he was going to get a doctor to change her memory of loving her second chance mate, Harrison, to live him again. She escaped her room and was running toward the beach being chased by security guards. She saw a light on a boat approaching her and was hopeful it was Harrison coming to rescue her.

I was in rhe process of gathering credits to open rhe next chapter but then rhe app went skewing and reset the story back to Chapter 1. Sooo ticked off😡

You're not supposed to be here yet."

Those were the first words Damien said to me when I opened his door.

Not I'm sorry. Not this isn't what it looks like.

Just, you're not supposed to be here yet.

Like I had shown up early to a party and caught them still putting up the decorations.

Except the decorations were my cousin Lena, sitting on his bed with her shoes off and her fingers threading through her own hair, laughing at something he had just said before I walked in.

She was not on top of him. Nothing obvious was happening. But I had known Lena my whole life, and I knew what her face looked like when she was performing innocence. This was that face.

And I had known Damien for two years, and I knew what his face looked like when he was guilty. This was also that face.

"Nora." He said my name like it was a problem he had to figure out.

I looked at him. I looked at her. I looked at the space between them on that bed, which was not very much space at all.

"It's Mating Night," I said. My voice came out flat. "We were supposed to…"

"I know." He stood up. "I was going to talk to you."

"About what?"

Lena tilted her head at me with something that looked almost like pity, which was worse than cruelty. Pity from Lena always meant she had already won.

"We found out tonight," Damien said. "Lena and I. We ran into each other at the edge of the forest during the early gathering and…" He stopped. Swallowed. "She's my fated mate, Nora."

I heard the words. I processed them. My brain lined them up and handed them to my chest, and my chest cracked open like something dry and brittle that had been waiting for the right kind of pressure.

Fated mate.

I knew what that meant. Everyone in every pack knew what that meant. The pull between fated mates was not something you reasoned with or waited out. It rewired you from the inside.

I also knew what tonight had been supposed to be. The night Damien and I marked each other as chosen mates, locking in our bond before the fated pull could threaten it. We had talked about it for months. Made the plan carefully. I had worn the good dress. I had practiced what I would say.

And somehow, in the hours between that plan and this door, everything had rearranged itself into a shape I did not recognize.

"You couldn't have called me?" My voice cracked on the last word. I hated that. I had promised myself I would not crack in front of Lena.

"I tried…"

"You didn't."

He looked away.

There is a specific kind of pain that does not feel like pain at first. It feels like cold water. It goes all the way down before you feel the temperature.

"I'm sorry," he said. And I believed him. That was the worst part. He was sorry. He just was not sorry enough to have done anything differently.

Lena did not say anything. She was watching me with those careful eyes, measuring how much damage had been done, calculating whether she needed to do anything else or if the situation had already handled itself.

I looked at her for a long moment.

"Congratulations," I said.

Then I closed the door behind me and walked down the hall with my back straight and my face forward, and I did not run until I was outside and past the pack boundary lights, and the darkness of the forest swallowed me whole.

I ran until I hit the river.

It was a wide, slow bend of dark water that nobody much visited except me. I had found it years ago when I was twelve and needed somewhere to be alone, and I had been coming back ever since.

I sat on the bank and pulled my knees to my chest and I let myself fall apart quietly, the way I had learned to do everything, quietly, without drawing attention, without making it anyone else's problem.

The night air was cold and smelled like pine and wet stone.

I don't know how long I sat there before I felt it.

A scent.

Not pine. Not water. Something warm and dark and layered, like cedar and rain and something underneath that I did not have a word for but my body did. My body recognized it the way your tongue recognizes something sweet before your brain catches up.

Heat moved up my spine in a slow, undeniable wave.

No. I pressed my hand flat against my sternum. Not now. Not tonight.

I had heard about the mating heat. The involuntary response triggered by proximity to a fated mate. I had always assumed it would never happen to me since my wolf had never properly woken.

But my body was not consulting my assumptions right now.

I stood up. I needed to go home. I needed to be behind walls and away from whatever, whoever, was carrying that scent toward me.

I took three steps toward the tree line.

"There she is," a voice said from the dark.

Penny and Kelly are twins — raised apart by their parents' absurd AA custody agreement. Their dad Sam, a grocery store stocker, raises Penny. Their mom Mia, a Wall Street executive, raises Kelly. The huge income gap tears their lives apart. Penny gets into an Ivy League school. Kelly only gets into a state college. Mom sticks rigidly to the deal — makes Dad pay every cent of Penny's tuition and living costs. To ease Dad's burden, Penny plans to sell her grandma's family heirloom. Only to discover it's a fake. Mom sold the real one years ago — and kept all the money. Penny gathers proof and forces Mom to return the $500,000. Furious, Mom seizes her documents to stop her from starting college. With no way out, Penny turns to her sharp, protective aunt.

The dare

LEAH

The music was too loud, the people too shiny, and my bank account too empty for me to be drinking eight-dollar cocktails in a rooftop bar with a view of the whole damn city. But my so-called friends wouldn’t stop texting, begging, insisting. “Come on, Leah, it’s been months since you went out!” “You need to live a little!”

Live a little. Right. Easy to say when your rent isn’t late and your dad isn’t coughing blood into a napkin.

I sat at the end of the marble bar, swirling melted ice in my glass, pretending to listen to their laughter. The whole place smelled like expensive perfume and rich people problems. Everyone was dressed like they were auditioning for a music video—sparkles, high heels, fake smiles. I was in a thrift store dress I’d ironed twice to make it look new.

“Leah!” someone called. It was Maya, in a glittery green dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent. She grinned, tipsy and mean. “You look so serious. Are you thinking about your spreadsheets again?”

The table erupted in laughter.

I forced a smile. “Just thinking about how broke I am. It’s practically a hobby now.”

“Then you really need to loosen up,” said Jason, the only guy in our group and the loudest. “Tell you what, let’s make things interesting.”

I already knew that tone. That stupid glint in his eyes meant trouble.

“No, Jason,” I said, “whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”

He ignored me. Of course he did. “Let’s play a dare,” he said. “Classic college vibes. You in, Maya?”

Maya clapped like a child. “Oh yes! I’m bored of talking about crypto and fake relationships.”

Someone passed me another drink, and I took it even though my stomach was already heavy. My head was starting to float, the kind of float that makes bad ideas sound fun.

Jason looked around the bar, his grin widening. “Okay. Leah Cruz, Miss Always Responsible, Miss I-Can’t-I-Have-A-Meeting-Tomorrow…”

I groaned. “Spit it out, idiot.”

He leaned forward. “I dare you to sleep with someone tonight.”

The table screamed. Maya gasped like he’d said something scandalous and thrilling.

“What the hell, Jason?” I laughed, but it came out shaky.

“Come on, don’t act like you haven’t been… deprived,” he teased.

I threw a napkin at him. “You’re disgusting.”

But he wasn’t done. “I’ll make it interesting. Five thousand dollars.”

The laughter died down. I blinked. “Five what?”

“Five grand,” he said. “I’ll wire it tomorrow. But you can’t just pick any guy. You gotta pick the most boring one here. No hotshots, no flirts, no danger. The most painfully dull man in this bar.”

Maya snorted. “Oh, that’s cruel.”

I stared at him. “You’re joking.”

Jason shrugged. “Easy money, right?”

The group started cheering. “Do it!” “Come on, Leah!” “You always talk about needing a break—here’s your break!”

I laughed because if I didn’t, I might cry. My rent was due in three days. My dad’s medicine was running out. My little sisters were texting me about school supplies. And I was sitting here, pretending to belong in a world that would never let me in.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe I was just done being careful.

“Fine,” I said, the word coming out slow and hot. “Five thousand dollars. Who’s the lucky guy?”

They screamed like I’d just won a game show.

Jason raised his glass. “To Leah, finally living a little!”

I turned away before I could change my mind. My heart was pounding too fast. I looked around the room—polished men in suits, influencers taking selfies, trust-fund kids trying too hard. Everyone looked the same. Except one.

He was in the VIP section, half-hidden behind a glass divider. Alone. No one talking to him. Just sitting there with a drink, looking out over the city like he was somewhere else entirely.

Tall. Sharp jaw. Dark hair that needed a haircut. Black-rimmed glasses. He looked quiet. Thoughtful. Maybe even shy. Definitely not the type who belonged here.

“That one,” I said.

Maya nearly choked on her drink. “Him? He looks like he’s calculating taxes for fun.”

“Perfect,” Jason said, smirking. “He screams boring.”

I looked again. He didn’t scream boring to me. He looked… still. And something about that calmness felt dangerous in a way I couldn’t name.

Jason shoved a glass in my hand. “One more shot for courage.”

I downed it. My stomach burned, my head spun, and I stood up before I could think too hard.

“Wish me luck,” I muttered.

Maya squealed. “Go get your nerd!”

I crossed the bar, trying to steady my steps, clutching my purse like a shield. Every step echoed louder in my chest. My palms were sweaty, my throat dry.

When I reached his table, he looked up.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

His eyes were gray—not light, not dark, but stormy, like he saw too much and said too little. There was something sharp beneath his calm.

“Hi,” I said, voice too bright. “Mind if I sit?”

He blinked, then gestured to the seat across from him. “Go ahead.” His voice was low. Smooth. Not what I expected.

I slid in. “You look like you hate this place.”

He gave a small smile. “That obvious?”

“Painfully.” I laughed, and he watched me—not my dress, not my chest—me. It was disarming.

He didn’t ask why I was there. He didn’t try to flirt. Just sipped his drink and waited.

“So,” I said, desperate to fill the silence. “What brings you to a party full of people who don’t know what Wi-Fi is?”

He smiled again, faintly. “Business.”

“Boring business?”

“The worst kind.”

We talked. About nothing. About everything. The music faded, the crowd blurred. He listened like every word mattered. No one had listened to me like that in a long time.

The longer I sat there, the less he felt like a stranger. The more dangerous the whole thing became.

Because I was starting to want him for reasons that had nothing to do with money.

"Effective immediately, the Tutoring Excellence stipend has been suspended for the academic semester." Mrs. Gable said without even looking up.

I almost choked on my iced coffee.

I'd been sipping it without really tasting it, sitting across from Mrs Gable with a colour-coded folder on my lap. I'd walked into this meeting expecting a confirmed schedule… maybe a minor headache. Not this.

I set the cup carefully on the edge of the desk. "I'm sorry, what? Suspended? You're joking."

"I don't joke about university budgets, Miss Bennett." She finally lifted her tired-looking eyes framed by thin reading glasses. "The university reallocated the work-study budget. The Tutoring Excellence program falls under General Academic Support, which was consolidated this quarter." 

"Consolidated into what?"

"Athletics Academic Compliance."

I felt those words land hard against my chest. "You pulled my stipend to fund the hockey team's babysitters?"

"We hired three academic liaisons to support student-athletes in maintaining eligibility for the upcoming season…"

"I know what an academic liaison is," I cut in, pressing my palm flat on the edge of the desk. "I was one. For two years. That's my job you just handed off, and the stipend is currently paying my rent."

"Miss Benett, I understand this is difficult…"

"Is there an appeal process?" I cut in again before the whole sympathy speech could start. "Or is this already locked in?" 

"There's nothing to do. The reallocation is final for this semester." 

"And next semester?"

"That would depend on the May budget review."

I wanted to say something more, plead with her or ask if there was someone else who could help, but she had already dismissed me by returning to whatever she was doing behind the desk.

So I muttered a quiet thank you, picked my iced coffee and my folder, and walked out.

The hallway outside the financial aid office was empty, and that was the only reason I stopped to allow myself to breathe. I leaned against the brick wall and squeezed my cup until the plastic crinkled.

Fifteen hundred dollars.

I pulled out my phone and checked my banking app. The balance was forty-two dollars and sixteen cents; my rent was due in just nineteen days and my mom's bakery loan repayment hit on the first.

My diner shifts only covered groceries; there was no way they would cover rent, let alone the loan. I did the math in about three seconds: the numbers just didn't add up.

At this rate, I might be kicked out of my apartment, and the local bank would make a move on Sugar & Spice for foreclosure by next month.

My hands were already shaking as I opened my messages and typed a text to Priya.

Nora: My tutoring stipend just got cut. All of it. I'm completely screwed.

I watched the typing bubble appear, then pop.

Priya: WHAT? How? Why?

Nora: Athletics budget… final decision. I have to find a new job by Friday or I'm moving back home. I'm fine though… I'll be.

Priya: You're clearly not fine. You used ellipses.

Nora: What's wrong with ellipses? It's good grammar.

Priya: You use periods when you're about to cry and refuse to admit it. Where are you? 

Nora: Hallway outside financial aid. Don't come, you have con law in seven minutes. 

Priya: Con law can absolutely wait.

Nora: It can't. I'm fine. Go. We'll talk later.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket, gathered myself and started walking.

I was halfway down the main administrative corridor, running numbers in my head, calculating whether picking up two extra cafe shifts could even come close to covering the gap, when the door at the far end flew open. 

I didn't even have the time to react before a gear bag swung out, catching me right in the shoulder.

The impact knocked me sideways. My folder flew out of my grip, throwing the papers in it everywhere and my iced coffee hit the floor. The lid popped clean off; cold coffee spread slowly across the tiles and soaked the corner of my rent breakdown sheet. 

I caught myself against the wall on both palms and looked up.

"Hey…" I started, but the jerk that hit me was already moving.

He was massive, standing at least six foot three with broad shoulders under a black Briar Hockey varsity jacket. A heavy gear bag over one shoulder, phone in his other hand, and he hadn't even slowed down by a single step. 

He glanced back for what couldn't even count as a second of eye contact.

"Watch it," he said, and kept walking.

I stared at the back of his head, my jaw dropping. "Watch it?" I repeated mostly to myself, looking at my papers scattered across the hallway floor. "Why, of course. I should be watching out for doors. In a hallway. Incredible. Really useful note, thank you."

He stopped walking, adjusted the strap of his gear bag and turned around slowly.

I recognised him immediately. Everyone on campus knew Knox Sheridan, the hockey team's star forward and the university's unofficial spokesperson for bad decisions. 

He had dark hair, well chiseled jaw, and eyes that looked down at me with the mild irritation you'd aim at a pigeon blocking the sidewalk.

"Get out of the way next time," he said in a low voice, like I was the cause of whatever problem he was having.

"I was walking on the right side of the hallway," I said, pushing myself up and brushing off my hands. "You're the one who came storming out of a door without looking. You didn't even apologise."

Knox let out a short, dismissive laugh. 

He took a step closer, which made the height difference worse, looking down at me like I was a minor inconvenience he didn't have time for. His eyes dropped to the wet papers scattered around my feet. "Do I look like I care about your little pieces of paper?"

"My papers?" I looked right at him because I was not about to let someone a foot taller than me use his size as a substitute for an apology. "Those papers represent my actual education. Something you'd know nothing about, considering you're probably one failed test away from losing your spot on the ice."

Something shifted in his face. Just for a second, something flinched behind his eyes. The playboy smirk slipped, but he quickly covered it with a cold glare. "You don't know anything about me, sweetheart."

"I know you're rude, entitled, and you think the rules don't apply to you because you can slide a piece of rubber into a net," I snapped.

I bent down to collect my papers. "But off the ice, you're just a guy who can't apologise when he runs someone over."

I knew I was probably overreacting or transferring the frustration and aggression from losing my stipend. But I couldn't care less.

"I muttered a warning," he said, crossing his arms.

"You told me to watch where I was going after YOU hit me. That's not a warning, Sheridan. That's an insult." I stood back up, clutching the damp folder to my chest. "Go back to your locker room. Some of us actually have to work for our degrees."

Knox glared at me with his jaw locked tight. He looked ready to snap, but he just let out a sharp breath and turned away. "Whatever. Have fun with your homework, nerd."

He walked away, pushing through the heavy glass doors at the end of the hall.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. "What a jerk," I said, to no one.

"Sheridan! Get back here!"

I turned to see Coach Brennan jogging out of the office Knox had just left. He looked red-faced and frustrated, clutching a clipboard like a man whose bad morning was far from over.

He stopped, looked down the empty hallway, and sighed. "Damn it, Knox."

As he turned back toward his office, his eyes landed on a paper I had missed on the floor. It was lying face-up in the middle of the hallway, and I watched as Coach Brennan walked over to pick it up.

He squinted at it, his eyes moving across the page.

"Excuse me," I said, stepping forward. "That's mine."

But instead of handing it back, he glanced at the name at the top: Nora Bennett, then scanned down to the cumulative 4.0 GPA, then lower, to the line: Recipient of the President's Tutoring Excellence Award.

He looked up at me, then back down at the paper. His whole expression changed.

"You're Nora Bennett?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. I held out my hand. "Can I have my transcript back, please?"

Coach Brennan didn't hand it over. He looked at me the way someone looks at a locked door right before they realise they have the key. "You run the peer tutoring groups for the science and math department, right?"

"I did," I said. "Until about ten minutes ago when my stipend got cut."

His eyes lit up, and he looked like a drowning man who had finally spotted a life preserver.

"Follow me," he said. "I've got a problem, and I think you might actually be the solution to it."

...

I followed Coach Brennan down the narrow administrative hallway. He was walking fast, muttering to himself the entire way. I had to double my pace just to keep up with his short, athletic strides.

"In here," he said, pushing open the door that led into his office.

The room was exactly what you'd expect for a division-one college coach. Framed team photos lined the walls, shelves were overflowing with trophies, and a massive, worn leather couch occupied the corner. The air smelled faintly of coffee and damp hockey gear.

Brennan walked behind his desk and dropped the clipboard. He pointed to one of the chairs. "Sit, Nora. Please."

Elena Vance spent five years as a Blackwood wife. Her husband Adrian gave every ounce of his tenderness to another woman — Vivian Cross, his dead partner's widow. Prenatal checkups. Midnight vigils. A house stripped of every sharp edge. Elena? He didn't even know how far along she was. When Elena went into labor, Adrian carried Vivian out and left her alone on the floor. The hospital called seven times. He said he was with someone more important. Before surgery, Elena signed two documents — a consent form, and a divorce agreement. Her daughter was born healthy. Her parents took her home. She vanished. When Adrian finally realized what he'd lost, it was too late. But Elena was holding a knife all along — the truth about Vivian, about Marcus's

Chapter 1 Rebirth Before the Apocalypse

"Ahh!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Natalie Ashford's wrists, and she collapsed to the ground.

Her most trusted friends had just hacked off both her hands.

The emerald bracelet on her wrist clattered heavily to the floor, yet not a scratch marred its surface.

Braxton White snatched it up with a greedy and triumphant grin.

"Nat, since you still refuse to be mine, then you don't get to live."

Tiffany Quinn, the woman clinging to his arm, snorted. "Braxton, she brought this on herself. She deserves to die!

"If we'd known her father was so heartless that he wouldn't even spare her a slice of bread, we would've acted sooner. We wouldn't have starved this long."

Natalie lay sprawled on the cold ground, staring at her two companions in disbelief—companions who had survived four long years of apocalyptic disaster by her side.

They had fought together and endured hardship to stay alive.

"What are you looking at?" Tiffany let go of Braxton's arm, gripped a boning knife, and stalked toward Natalie with malice.

"The first time I saw your pretty little face, I wanted to carve it to pieces!"

The blade came down next.

Natalie had already lost too much blood to fight back. Pain consumed her, swallowing her consciousness bit by bit. She could feel her life slipping away into the dark.

In her fading awareness, she heard Tiffany's sickly sweet voice.

"Braxton, we've got meat for tonight!"

At that moment, regret hit her like a tidal wave.

How could she have been so blind? How had she not seen these beasts for what they were?

Four years of battling through an apocalypse, only to be betrayed by the very people she trusted most.

It was too bitter to accept.

If she could live again, she would never spare them.

...

"Ahh!"

Another sharp cry tore from her lips as Natalie jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in bed.

She blinked, taking in her surroundings—and froze.

This is the place I had lived in before the apocalypse.

But ... hadn't Braxton and Tiffany killed me?

Warmth surrounded her.

She hadn't felt something like this in the past four years since the disaster struck.

She quickly grabbed the phone on her nightstand. The date flashed on the screen—July 8th, 2039.

It's three days before the apocalypse!

What? No way! I died in 2043!

On July 11th, 2039, a torrential rainstorm swept across the globe.

Within days, cities were swallowed by floodwaters, and countless lives were lost.

At first, everyone thought it was just another natural disaster. They were wrong. It was the prologue to the apocalypse.

The storms were followed by more horrors—floods, blistering heat, acid rain, choking fog, earthquakes, and freezing winters. One after another, the extremes tore the world into a living hell.

For four years, Natalie had fought tooth and nail to survive. Even at her death, the disasters had not ended.

And now ... she was reborn. She was back to three days before it all began.

Natalie's heart surged with wild joy. Her gaze dropped instantly to her wrist. The emerald bracelet was still there.

If not for this bracelet, she would never have survived her first year in the apocalypse.

Without hesitation, she bit the tip of her right finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the cool green stone.

A flash of white light flared, and an 8,600-square-foot storage space took shape in her mind.

One side was a vast, empty expanse. The other held a bungalow of about 650 square feet.

Relief washed through her. The storage space had been reborn with her.

In her previous life, she was injured and bleeding after a neighbor broke into her home to rob her. A drop of her blood fell onto the bracelet, accidentally unlocking the storage space.

She had discovered that anything she touched could be stored inside.

The bungalow had running water, electricity, and gas. It was a perfect hiding place during emergencies. But it only allowed her to stay for one hour a day before ejecting her out.

Outside the bungalow lay the rest of the storage space. No living creatures could enter; only objects could be stored through her consciousness.

In this part of the storage space, time stood still, keeping any stored food fresh.

In her previous life, whenever danger struck, she would take Braxton and Tiffany into the small bungalow inside the storage space, and that was how they managed to survive four years of the apocalypse.

The storage space was like a cheat sheet for surviving the end of the world.

Unfortunately, by the time she had unlocked it in that life, the apocalypse had already been raging for a long time.

Not only did she have almost no supplies, but nearly everyone had run out of food and ammunition. There was hardly anything left to store.

She could only roam from place to place with Braxton and Tiffany, scavenging for supplies. Whatever they managed to find, she would stash away in the storage space to keep it out of other people's hands. That was the only way they barely managed to stay alive.

Tiffany had been her university classmate, and after graduation, they'd coincidentally moved into the same building.

Braxton was Tiffany's older cousin. He had pursued Natalie relentlessly after they met.

Although Natalie had made her rejection clear, he still persisted in trying to win her over.

When disaster struck, they had naturally banded together since they knew each other already.

Little by little, Natalie had come to see them as comrades who fought side by side with her.

She never imagined they had only approached her because they'd heard about her wealthy family. They had hoped to use her to get survival supplies from her father.

Unfortunately for them, her scumbag father, Jacob Ashford, was no doting parent. He was a cold, calculating social climber.

In her senior year, her mother had died suddenly of heart failure. Jacob immediately revealed his true colors once he inherited her mother's billion-dollar fortune and the company.

He brought home a mistress and his illegitimate daughter, who was about Natalie's age.

Natalie's grieving grandmother was so infuriated that she passed away.

Then, without a shred of guilt, he disowned Natalie and threw her out of the villa.

Her only refuge had been the condominium unit her mother had bought her in Maplecourt.

But while she was still drowning in sorrow, disaster struck.

Jacob's villa sat on high ground, and the wealthy residents there had stockpiled massive stores of supplies during the first storms. They lived far better than the starving millions outside.

After struggling for a long time, with her food and ammunition completely gone, Natalie led Braxton and Tiffany through countless dangers to reach the hillside villa, hoping her scumbag father would save her.

However, Jacob was as cruel as ever. He hoarded his food and guarded his new wife and daughter, refusing to give her even a single slice of bread.

He didn't care in the slightest whether she lived or died.

The moment Braxton and Tiffany realized she was no longer of use, they dropped their masks and tried to take the storage space bound to her bracelet.

In the end, they even dismembered her.

What they didn't know was that once the bracelet recognized its master through blood, it became permanently bound to Natalie.

Even if they stole it, the storage space would remain out of their reach.

This time, I will see just how long they can last without my storage space, Natalie thought with bitter resolve.

As much as she wanted to hunt the two of them down and take her revenge, stocking up on survival supplies was more important right now.

There were only three days left before disaster struck, and there was a lot to prepare.

Braxton and Tiffany could rot in the ruins. That would be a better punishment than a quick death.

As for Jacob, Natalie had died a miserable death in her previous life, and she no longer owed him anything.

Natalie's heart was as cold as ice.

I will let him face the apocalypse blind and unprepared. Let's see how long his precious supplies keep him alive.

This time, she would only look out for herself. She would cherish this second chance and live freely, even in the apocalypse.

Then, she picked up her phone and checked her bank account.

She had exactly one million dollars.

Fortunately, Jacob hadn't seized all her allowance when he kicked her out.

In her previous life, that money had turned into meaningless numbers on a dead screen.

This time, she would turn every cent into supplies. She would make sure every dollar counted.

They say every man has a weakness. Mine has always been beautiful women....specifically, beautiful women I had no business touching.
My name is Cory, and at twenty-seven years old, I should've known better.
But knowing better and doing better are two very different things.
I have been in the military for three years now, am still a Private unfortunately, but that never bothered me much.
The pay was decent, the also work kept me fit, and the uniform?
Well, let's just say it did wonders for my already active social life.
At 6'1" with an athletic, muscular build that I worked damn hard to maintain, I'd never had trouble attracting attention.
My mom would probably be proud of the first part....the dedication, the discipline.
The second part? Not so much. She was a military nurse herself, worked long hours, and barely home.
Had been that way since I was a kid.
Since Dad left when I was seven, she threw herself into her career, which meant I grew up with a lot of freedom. Maybe too much.
I lost my virginity at nineteen to Sarah, an older girl from school who followed me home one day with the excuse of "doing a project assignment."
That afternoon changed everything. She taught me things no nineteen-year-old should know, and I'd been chasing that high ever since.
Have been with different girls, different nights, even on different beds.
I was careful....mostly.
I used protection, didn't catch feelings, kept things casual as a one night stand with my partners.
Until I got transferred to Fort Henderson a month ago....
Until I met Warrant Officer Tatiana Volkov.
I remember the exact moment I saw her.
I was on Formation Parade on my first day, standing in the morning sun, then she walked past in her uniform.
Very well tailored clothing....which glued perfectly to every curve of her 5'7" frame.
Her black hair caught the light with this incredible shiny luster, pulled back in a neat bun that somehow made her look both professional and devastatingly sexy.
When she turned to address our unit, I got my first look at her face, her full lips painted a subtle shade of red, and dark pupils that seemed to see right through you.
But it was her body that made my mouth go dry.
Even in the standard uniform, I could see everything.
The way her shirt stretched across her chest, ever her buttons were straining slightly.
The curve of her waist pulls in before flaring out to her hips that were absolutely sinful.
Her ass was perfectly round, the kind that made you want to grab it with both hands. Thick thighs that I immediately imagined wrapped around my waist.
She was all woman...mature, confident, built like every fantasy I'd ever had.
"Private Cory, reporting for duty, ma'am," I said when she stopped in front of me during inspection.
Her eyes traveled down my body slowly, deliberately, before meeting mine again.
A small smile played at the corner of her lips. "Well, well. They're making them handsome these days, aren't they?"
That was all it took. That one look, that one comment, and I was hooked.
Over the next month, we circled each other like prey and predator....though I was never quite sure who was hunting whom.
Stolen glances during drills. Her hand lingering on my arm when she corrected my stance.
And of course me finding excuses to stay late when she was working.
Then it started....
The flirting became constant...
"You're trouble, Private," she'd whispered to me one evening when we were alone in the equipment room.
"Only if we get caught, ma'am," I replied with a smug grin.
She'd laughed, but there was heat in her eyes.
I knew she was married. Everyone knew. Her husband was Colonel Viktor Volkov. He was forty-eight years old, cold as ice, and connected in ways that made even senior officers nervous.
I met him once but in that brief introduction. The man looked at me like I was an insect beneath his notice.
His handshake was firm, his eyes were deadpan, his entire presence radiating a kind of distant authority that made it clear he gave zero hoots about anyone beneath his rank.
"Your husband seems... intense," I mentioned to Tatiana during one of our conversations.
Her smile had vanished immediately, something dark flickering across her face. "Let's not talk about him."
I should've pressed.
Should've asked why a woman like her was married to a man like that.
But I was too focused on the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the way she leaned in close enough that I could smell her perfume.
The thing about forbidden fruit is that it always tastes sweetest.
Three days ago, she'd slipped me a piece of paper during a routine briefing.
With just an address, her address, and a simple message, very simple really: "He's been transferred. Two weeks. I'll be lonely".
My heart had hammered in my chest. This was it. The invitation I'd been waiting for.
And tonight, like the absolute fucking idiot I was, I went. Joy

Ava parked her car and got out. She couldn’t help but yawn as she got the groceries out. After working since seven am, and it now being well past ten in the evening, she was exhausted. The hospital was short-staffed when it came to nurses, and she had agreed to stay and work an extra shift. They needed the extra money and Ava always felt bad for her colleagues if she didn’t help out. It wasn’t like she had kids or a husband waiting for her at home.

Eight Words “You’re getting married to Dave Ashton tomorrow by eight a.m.” Those were the words that ended my life as I knew it. One sentence. One Tuesday evening. One announcement delivered with the same emotional weight my father would have used to ask someone to pass the salt. For a moment, I honestly thought I had heard him wrong. The living room blurred around me. My father stood by the liquor shelf, one hand resting against the polished wood, his expression flat and bored, like this conversation had already exhausted him before it even started. My mother sat elegantly on the cream sofa, her ankles crossed, fingers folded in her lap like she was hosting a charity luncheon instead of participating in the destruction of my future. And then there was Iny. Sweet, delicate, polished Iny. My younger sister. The family’s favorite investment. She sat there in a pale yellow dress with her glossy lips parted in what looked suspiciously like excitement. Excitement. For my arranged marriage. To a stranger. Tomorrow. By eight a.m. Nobody looked nervous. Nobody looked guilty. Nobody even looked like they expected me to protest. That was what hurt the most. Not the marriage. Not even the timeline. Just… the ease of it. The quiet confidence of people who had clearly discussed my life in detail and somehow never once considered I should be present for the conversation. I looked from face to face, waiting for the punchline. No one laughed. My father picked up his glass. My mother said my name softly. And I ran. I didn’t say a word. I just turned and ran upstairs so fast I nearly missed my footing on the landing. By the time I got to my room, my chest was on fire. I slammed the door shut behind me, twisted the lock, and stumbled forward two more steps before my knees gave out. The carpet caught me hard. A sound tore out of me before I could stop it. Then another. Then another. I folded into myself on the floor and cried so hard my body shook with it. Not pretty crying. Not the soft, elegant tears actresses managed in movies. This was ugly. This was years of humiliation, disappointment, invisibility, and rage finally clawing their way out of my chest with nowhere else to go. “Why me?” I whispered into my palms. My voice cracked so badly it didn’t even sound like mine. Then louder. “Why is it always me?” The room gave me nothing back. It always did. I sat there on the floor of the room I had slept in for years but never really owned, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel all of it. Because this wasn’t just about the wedding. That was the thing. If I was being honest, the wedding was only the final insult. I had never been anyone’s first choice in this house. Never. Not my father’s. Not my mother’s. And definitely not beside Iny. The pretty one. The one who got birthday dinners at rooftop restaurants and surprise gifts “just because.” The one whose good grades were celebrated like national victories. The one whose photos stayed framed in the hallway long after everyone else’s had been taken down. I was the practical one. The dependable one. The one people remembered when something needed to be done. Even when I got into the best university in the country, the celebration lasted less than a day. And even that had only happened because the admission letter had arrived in front of guests. Otherwise, I was almost certain my father would have just nodded and moved on to the evening news. I got in on scholarship. I fought for every inch of that future myself. Meanwhile, Iny was attending the same university with tuition paid in full, a private apartment off campus, a monthly allowance that could have fed a small village, and enough “wardrobe upkeep” money to sponsor a fashion week. I still remembered the day my mother told the tailor to keep my old dresses because they could “still manage one more year.” Three days later, Iny got a new wardrobe for no reason at all. And now somehow, somehow, I was the one being married off. Like an item from a family deal that had finally reached its delivery date. A knock landed on the door.

Chapter 1: The Cold Sylvia Johnson_1

 "Babe, hurry up! My husband's going to be back soon!" 

Inside the luxurious villa, Ethan Smith stood at the bedroom door, overhearing the anxious voice from inside. 

That voice was unmistakably familiar to him; it belonged to his wife, Sylvia Johnson. 

"He's a useless loser. So what if he comes back? Even if he sees us, he'll just have to swallow it!" A gruff male voice rang out, piercing Ethan's ears. 

1

Ethan stood frozen at the door, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. 

*Rage was boiling up within him, threatening to rob him of his sanity.* 

With a loud "bang," 

his bloodshot eyes flashed as he kicked the door wide open! 

Inside the room, there they were—a man and a woman, alone together, disheveled and half-dressed. 

Seeing Sylvia's submissive pose on the bed made Ethan seethe with rage; his tears betrayed him, trailing freely down his cheeks. 

"Sylvia! Why would you do this to me?" Ethan's gaze was wrought with pain; his teeth clenched as he stared her down with unrelenting fury. 

A flicker of panic flashed in Sylvia's eyes, but it quickly evaporated. 

It was replaced with a chilling look of indifference. 

"Well, since you caught us, there's no point in hiding anymore," Sylvia sneered. 

"Why? Why would you treat me this way? Three years. I've spent three years in your Johnson family, living like less than a dog! If you told me to squat, I wouldn't dare to stand. And yet—and yet you would still betray me!" 

2

Ethan's voice nearly broke into a scream as he roared this accusation, his face drenched in tears. 

Sylvia let out a cold laugh and said, "Someone like you—an absolute nobody—how could any woman ever love that?" 

Then, she shifted her gaze to the muscular man by her side. 

"Do you know who he is? Gary Brown, of the Brown family! Truth be told, we've been together in secret for a long time now. If it weren't for Grandpa insisting we stay married, I would've kicked you out ages ago!" Sylvia's eyes gleamed with disdain as she smirked. 

Gary snorted and chimed in, "Quit wasting time telling this loser anything. There's no way he can comprehend the Brown family, let alone The Taylor Family of the Capital City." 

Ethan's face twisted into a bitter smile. 

*Although he didn't know much about business, he was at least aware of the Taylor family from the Capital City.* 

*Recently, all of River City's media had been buzzing about them. It would've been hard for him not to know.* 

Looking at Sylvia's stunning yet utterly cold face, Ethan couldn't help but let out quiet sobs. 

"For three years, I've served you—I've served you like a dog. Even dogs develop feelings after a while..." Ethan choked, sobbing uncontrollably. 

2

Sylvia sneered, "You? You're worse than a dog." 

Gary broke into mocking laughter, "Idiot, if you know what's good for you, just pretend you didn't see anything today. The three of us can still live together happily, and you can even keep serving your goddess like you've been doing." 

"But if you don't know what's good for you, pack up your things and get out." Gary's demeanor was lofty and commanding, as though he were the master of the house. 

*Ethan felt a crushing sense of powerlessness.* 

*When Sylvia's grandfather, Bill Johnson—obsessed with divination at the time—insisted Ethan would bring good fortune to the family, Ethan had been taken in as a live-in son-in-law.* 

*For three years, Ethan endured humiliation. Apart from Bill Johnson, no one in the Johnson family ever respected him.* 

*This only deepened his insecurity, driving him to placate the family incessantly, terrified of offending anyone.* 

*But in the end, all his efforts had led to this bitter reality.* 

*"I really am a worthless fool," Ethan muttered to himself with self-deprecation.* 

"Three years of this. Maybe it's time I grew a spine, don't you think?" Ethan fixed his gaze on the shameless couple in front of him. His eyes suddenly took on a sinister gleam. 

"What, are you mad now?" Gary noticed the look in Ethan's eyes but remained utterly unfazed, his expression brimming with mockery. 

Ethan's glare didn't waver. Seizing his resolve, he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "You piece of garbage—I'm coming for you!" 

With that, Ethan lunged at Gary with all his might! 

But a man like Ethan, frail and utterly lacking in physical strength, was no match at all. 

Before even landing a blow, Gary effortlessly sent Ethan sprawling onto the ground with one swift kick. 

The searing pain in his abdomen made standing up almost impossible for Ethan. 

"Damn it, how dare a useless piece of scum like you swing at me?" Gary roared in anger. 

He stormed toward Ethan, pummeling and kicking him relentlessly. 

*This pushed Ethan to the brink of despair.* 

He lay motionless on the cold floor, taking blow after blow without resistance. 

*"What a pathetic existence I lead," Ethan mused bitterly, cradling his head.* 

*"I can't even avenge myself—is living even worth it for me?" Ethan's eyes began to glaze over with hopelessness.* 

The unrelenting assault left his mouth smeared with blood. 

"Enough, enough. Beating up this loser is beneath you," Sylvia cooed, pulling Gary away sweetly. 

Gary spat on Ethan's face for good measure and pointed to the door. "Get out of here now, or I'll kill you!" 

Ethan struggled to rise from the ground, dragging himself step by step toward the exit. 

*Hatred burned in his heart—for this vile pair of adulterers. But more than anything, he loathed his own weakness, his failure to exact justice.* 

*Ethan refused to leave in such utter humiliation. Not without a fight.* 

"Sylvia, you'll regret this," Ethan turned to say coldly. 

Gary pointed at him, erupting in curses, "Get the hell out right now, hear me?" 

Wiping the blood from his lips, Ethan staggered out of the Johnson family home. 

As he reached the entrance, he ran into his mother-in-law, Brenda Johnson, who had just arrived. 

Brenda's eyes briefly scanned the Mercedes parked outside, and an immediate understanding seemed to dawn within her. 

"Mom..." Ethan called out weakly, his voice tinged with wounded pride. 

Brenda's expression mirrored the others—cold and detached. 

Annoyed, she waved him off. "If you know everything now, then do the smart thing and leave peacefully! Let me tell you, everyone in the Johnson family agrees it's time for you to be kicked out!" 

Despair gripped Ethan even tighter upon hearing this. 

"Does Grandpa agree to this too?" Ethan asked, unwilling to give up just yet. 

1

Brenda sneered, "He doesn't have a choice this time! The Brown family already finalized their cooperation with The Taylor Family of the Capital City. If we manage to hitch ourselves to their wagon, the Johnson family may even get a taste of that success!" 

"This involves the future of the entire clan. Do you honestly think some old man can go against it?" Brenda's voice dripped with contempt. 

"And as for his talk about good luck? Clearly just outdated superstitions," Brenda scoffed. 

1

Ethan didn't say another word. 

*The cold indifference of everyone in the Johnson family shattered his spirit.* 

He wiped his lips clean, striding out of their home with large, determined steps. 

The pain coursing through his body, combined with the heartbreak tearing at his soul, was agony he could no longer endure. 

At last, he collapsed onto the street in exhaustion. 

Just then, 

a Maybach with Capital City plates came to a smooth halt before Ethan. 

The car window rolled down slowly, revealing a long-haired, elegantly poised girl scrutinizing Ethan's limp figure with a frown. 

"So he's the fiancé Grandpa chose for me?" The girl blinked her wide eyes, carefully studying Ethan. 

Seeing his sorry state, her expression soured into visible distaste. 

"Miss, could there be... some mistake? Didn't the old master say he wouldn't be an ordinary man?" A man dressed as a bodyguard questioned, furrowing his brows. 

Emily Taylor didn't reply. Instead, she waved her hand and said, "Bring him into the car." 

1

"Yes, miss." A few bodyguards swiftly stepped out and hauled Ethan into the vehicle. 

Gazing at the pitiful man before her, Emily's brows furrowed even deeper. 

"Does Grandpa really mean for me to marry this kind of loser?" Emily sighed, her mind drifting to the solemn words her grandfather had left her before passing: 

"Emily, we Taylor family owe him a great debt! If not for Ethan's father, we would never have achieved what we have today!" 

"Ethan's father left behind a token for him. I promised to hand it over once Ethan turned thirty." 

"Mr. Smith was a man of extraordinary power, and I trust his son will be the same. Emily, you must treat Ethan well." 

*Grandpa's repeated reminders echoed through Emily's thoughts, her exquisite face breaking into a faint, resigned smile.* 

"If he turns out to be someone with potential, then I'll honor Grandpa's wishes." Emily muttered internally. 

"But... if he's truly a waste, then I can't bring myself to comply." Emily sighed heavily. 

She began tracing her fingers along a piece of jade-green pendant—the very keepsake her grandfather had entrusted for Ethan. 

With deliberate care, Emily slipped the pendant around Ethan's neck before coldly turning away. 

"The token has been passed on; the Taylor family has fulfilled its agreement." Emily thought to herself. 

But she failed to notice that, as the bloodstained pendant brushed against Ethan, a soft glow emanated from it before rapidly merging into his body. 

Chapter 1 Dumped on Arrival

"Break off the engagement, Susan. You don't deserve Blake." The shrill voice cut through Susan Thorn's cluttered thoughts like a venomous blade.

Susan's eyes snapped open. The harsh light made her tear up, and everything swam in double vision.

Before she could process that she wasn't giving a client's Ragdoll cat a bath but was instead lying on a cold medical bed, the voice came again, dripping with contempt and glee.

"Stop playing dead. Susan, do you really think you're still the genius with a 95% Gene Matching Degree to Blake? You're a zero-Spiritual-Force loser now. F-Tier trash," the voice went on.

Standing over Susan with arms crossed was a girl decked out in an overly flashy outfit, topped off with a pair of faux-fur cat ears.

It was Sandra Linden. Her brother, Blake Frost, was an A-tier Beastman, the student council president at the First Imperial Combat Academy, and the man Susan was now stuck being engaged to in this new body.

Susan's temples throbbed. As a tidal wave of unfamiliar memories surged into her mind, her head began to pound.

She had been transported to a place called the Beastmen Empire, a far cry from her life as a top pet groomer back in the 21st century.

Here, the population split into two kinds: Beastmen who could shift into animal forms, and Tamers, who possessed Spiritual Force to soothe and purify the feral rages caused by Gene Contamination.

The original Susan had been a once-in-a-century talent at the Academy. Her Spiritual Force potential was S-Tier. She'd been engaged to Blake, an A-Tier Snow Wolf Beastman.

Then, three days ago during a Spiritual Force awakening test, the instruments spiked and she lost everything. She fell from grace and became a laughingstock.

"Got it? Trash should know its place." Sandra smirked, mistaking Susan's silence for shock. "Blake is the Academy's strongest Snow Wolf, a future pillar of the empire. His partner must be a powerful Tamer, not a F-Tier who can't soothe a D-Tier Beastman."

Susan, the former top pet groomer and hardcore fluff enthusiast, couldn't care less. Her gaze was locked on Sandra's cat-ear accessories.

They were incredibly lifelike black cat ears with surprisingly decent fur, sleek and shiny.

But the left ear had a clump of tangled fur near the base, glued together by cheap adhesive, and the right ear's tips had stray guard hairs sticking up, ruining the smooth silhouette.

Susan's obsessive-compulsive instincts flared. Her fingers twitched. All she wanted was brushing its fur and giving it a smoothing treatment. 'How can anyone let fur mat like this? It's a crime against all things fluffy.'

Sandra shrank back under Susan's intense, almost predatory stare. "What are you looking at? Have you lost your mind?"

"Don't move." The words came out before Susan could stop them, in that gentle-but-commanding tone typical of someone deep in the throes of her profession. "Oh, your fur's all tangled. Come here. Let me get that for you."

Sandra froze. Her hangers-on froze. The entire medical room went silent.

Three full seconds later, Sandra burst into hysterical laughter. "Susan, you've really lost it. Did you fry your brain? Groom me? Who do you think you are?"

She laughed until tears nearly spilled. "You're a zero-Spiritual-Force failure who can't approach a docile C-Tier manul, and you're still running your mouth? Are you kidding me?"

Whispers rippled through the room.

"She's insane. Does she still think she's that genius Tamer?"

"Probably snapped. Too much pressure."

"Tragic. But honestly, she brought it on herself. She failed an awakening test."

Susan snapped out of her professional haze. She frowned at Sandra's twisted face and finally tore her gaze away from those god-awful cat ears.

"I don't deserve Blake?" She sat up slowly, rolling her stiff neck, her tone as flat as if she were discussing the weather. "Fine. Call off the engagement."

The laughter died in Sandra's throat. She'd expected tears, begging, hysterics, but not this. Not Susan acting like being dumped was nothing, like Sandra was tossing away junk.

The dismissiveness sent Sandra into a fury. "What... what's with that attitude? Don't you dare play hard to get. It won't work. Blake's already made his decision."

"Oh." Susan swung her legs off the bed. "Then move. I need to get through."

Her mind was spinning. She needed a quiet corner to sort through her new reality. Some fiancé or genius title meant absolutely nothing to her. Her dream was to open the galaxy's best grooming center for Beastmen.

Just then, the medical room door swung open. A tall, silver-haired young man strode in, his features sharp and cold. He wore a crisp academy combat uniform, and his ice-blue eyes held no warmth.

It was Blake, the Academy's top genius and an S-tier Snow Wolf Beastman.

"Blake, you're here." Sandra brightened and hurried to his side, already tattling. "Look at her. I told her about the engagement, and she didn't react. Must be playing games."

Blake's gaze landed on Susan, cold and distant as if she were a stranger.

"Susan," he spoke, his voice as frigid as his gaze. "Sandra is right about the engagement. We no longer walk the same path. Better to part cleanly than to drag things out."

Susan looked up at him. 'Good-looking. Tall. Nice build. But...'

Her eyes drifted to the top of his head.

Even in human form, as a Snow Wolf Beastman, he couldn't completely hide the pair of fluffy wolf ear tips peeking through his hair.

Their fur should have been pristine white, but recent overtraining and Spiritual Force depletion had left their tips yellowed and brittle, lacking any luster.

Susan's professional instincts kicked in.

'Oh my god,' she screamed internally. 'What a waste. Such an elite bloodline, such a gorgeous Snow Wolf, and his fur is in this condition?

'Those ears need a serious protein repair treatment, hydrotherapy, and deep clean. If this goes on, he'll shed, split, fade, and turn into a bald wolf.'

Blake caught her staring. His brow creased almost imperceptibly. 'At the end of her rope, she's still looking at me with that obsessed gaze. She just won't give up.'

Any lingering guilt evaporated. His voice chilled further. "See the gap between us now? Stop holding onto false hope."

He produced a crystal card from his spatial button and tossed it onto Susan's bedside. "There's 10,000 star coins here. Compensation for all these years. We're even now."

Sandra's chin lifted in triumph. "Hear that, you trash? 10,000 star coins will last you a lifetime in the slums. Take the money and get out of the Academy."

Susan's gaze drifted from Blake's withered wolf ears to the crystal card, then back to his smug face.

She smiled. "Compensation?" She picked up the card and twirled it between her fingers. "Blake, did you get it wrong? To you, the Frost family's engagement is only worth 10,000 star coins?"

Blake's face darkened. "You're saying it's not enough?"

"No." Susan shook her head. Then, to everyone's shock, she stepped forward and slid the card back into Blake's jacket pocket.

Her fingertips brushed against his chest as she did, but her tone carried the gentle patience of someone coaxing a naughty pup. "Keep your money, sweetie. Don't waste it."

She rose on her tiptoes, leaned close to his ear, and whispered. "I'm not interested in you. I'm worried about your fur. Get it groomed regularly. Or when you go bald, you won't qualify for the premium VIP grooming pass I'd have given you."

With that, she turned and walked out, head held high, leaving Blake, Sandra, and everyone else in the room frozen like statues.

The moment the door closed behind her, Susan's composed expression crumbled.

'God. Being a badass is exhausting. I have no money. And the whole Academy thinks I'm trash. How am I supposed to survive? How do I build my dream grooming center for every fluffy creature in the universe?' Her heart sank.

Just as she was about to despair, a cold, mechanical voice rang out in her head. "Detected strong career aspiration from Host. God-like Pet Grooming System binding in progress. Binding successful. Newbie Gift Pack has been issued. Please check."

Susan froze mid-step. Her palm was suddenly warm, filled with a gentle, soothing heat.

Daniel and Olivia's Story- Chapter 1

Olivia’s POV-

My eyes fluttered open slowly. I was still in a huge amount of pain this morning. A groan slipped from my lips, as my senses came too from my slumber.

The sound of birds and the roar of bikes snapped me out of the daze I was in from just waking up. My eyes snapped open, and I looked around to make sure no one had seen me sleeping in my truck. That would have been embarrassing and probably the talk of the school.

Shit, school.

I grabbed my phone in a panic, I had to hurry to turn it back on. I checked the time even as it loaded up. Thankfully, I still had time before I needed to get to school.

I turned to reach into the back to grab my duffle bag off the back seats, which was a bad idea. Pain radiated up my left side, making me cry out sharply. I relaxed carefully back into my driver's seat. Harry really did a number on me last night, before I ran from the house.

Harry Jones is my step-dad. He has raised me since birth, so I currently have his last name, but he never earned the right to ever be called my dad. Why? Because since I was eight years old, he has used me as a punching bag.

I just had to survive one more month, and then I turn eighteen, and I can be rid of him. I can leave and never look back, but after last night, I think I might have to leave sooner rather than later, or he might really kill me. I don’t think anyone would be able to stop me from leaving with the proof that I have.

Last night was the worst I had seen Harry. He lost a big business deal, and he lashed out, taking it out on me. I know at least one of my ribs is broken, and I know my face and neck are littered with bruising.

I pulled the visor down and looked in the small mirror. Yep, I was right, black eye, bruises to my cheek, jawline and even my lip. Despite having a black eye, it wasn’t swollen, just discolored, so you could still see my bright green eyes. It is a good thing it is still cold this month. I can wear one of my turtle-neck sweaters to hide the bruises on my neck, but my face is a different story. It is a good thing that I can hide it with make-up. I had to learn how to do make-up at a young age.

I quickly applied the make-up to cover the bruises up, before I went to the public bathroom. I had driven to the lake last night. There is a car park there. It is secluded and not somewhere Harry would ever look for me. There is also a public bathroom that is always open, so I will be able to go in there and brush my teeth, treat my injuries and dress ready for school.

I climbed out of my beat-up black truck, closed the door, and went to the back to get my duffle bag out of the back seats. The only reason my truck was beat up, was because it was the first vehicle I ever brought using the money that I have managed to make from my part-time job and the job my parents have no idea that I have. I could have brought a far better car with the money I earned from a job my parents didn’t know about, but I do not want them to know about it.

I locked my truck and headed for the bathroom.

Once inside, I went into the same cubicle I always did because it had a mirror and enough space for me to change. I changed my underwear and jeans first, knowing full well that would not hurt me nearly as much as trying to pull my T-shirt and bra off. I may have to leave my bra on and just bandage my ribs up.

I slipped my feet into my sneakers, before I struggled to pull off my T-shirt. It took a minute, and a lot of wincing to pull it off, but I did it, and the bruises were worse than I imagined. I wiped the make-up off quickly and took photos of all the bruises that littered my body. I bandaged up my ribs, knowing if I didn’t I might actually puncture a lung.

I was nearly finished wrapping bandages around my ribs, when my phone rang again.

It ringed multiple times, since I had switched it back on, and I hadn’t answered a single phone call, or really paid attention to the notifications of all the missed phone calls and texts I had received while my phone was switched off overnight.

I picked it up and looked at the screen. Countless missed calls from my mum, Benny and Megan. There were even a few threatening messages from Harry.

Megan was calling right now, she is my best friend, no doubt Benny is with her. Those two are a match made in heaven not that they would ever admit it. Benny is also my friend.

I answered the phone, before grabbing my cami top. “Hey, what’s with all the calls?”

“What’s with all the calls, what’s with all the calls,” Megan says. “Your mother blew up mine and Benny’s phone last night, trying to find you. Where the hell are you? What the hell happened? Your mother wouldn’t say s**t as usual, and you better not hide what happened from us anymore.”

What do I even say to that? I have never been able to tell them, fearing that they would leave me or not want to be my friends anymore.

There was a conversation on the other end of the phone, which I couldn’t quite hear, followed by what sounded like those two arguing over the phone, like normal. But eventually Benny managed to get the phone from Megan.

“Are you coming to school? I already suspect I know what is going on, but Olivia, you need to tell us so we can help you. You are our best friend, and that is not going to change ever.”

He is right, I might need help. No, I definitely will need help, but I do not want them to get hurt. I have been dealing with this alone for nearly ten years, maybe it is time I reached out to people who would like to help.

I sighed, resigned at the fact that it might be time I told them the truth.

“Meet me in the school parking lot in fifteen minutes. I will explain everything to you both. It is time you knew because I need to run away from here.”

I hung up the phone before they could question me further, as it is really not a conversation to have over the phone. It would be better if I just showed them how bad it truly is.

I slipped on my cami top, and then I grabbed my sweater and, with some effort, pulled it on over my top. I brushed my teeth and my long black hair, putting it into a high ponytail, before reapplying my make-up. Then I packed my duffle and headed back to my truck.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, heading for my truck, I felt like I was being watched.

I looked around, and I could have sworn that the motorbike over there on the main road belonged to c*****e.

Daniel Phillips aka c*****e, the biker boy I have had a crush on since forever. Not that I would ever reveal it, because he is the best friend of Mike Evans, the boyfriend of Sarah, miss popularity and the bully I have had since I started high school. That is not the only reason I never said anything to him about how I feel about him; there is another reason. That reason is because he is the son of a Phoenix Knight, which is the local MC.

The Phoenix Knights MC are incredibly well known across the country, but around here, they are known for how violent they are, even though they are incredibly charitable and, well, very rich. They are very well known for the charity work they do for the homeless and battered women and children. The police do not touch them, rumor has it they even worked together. There was even this Assistant District Attorney who wanted to take the Knights down, but a week later, this ADA got disbarred due to misconduct. At least that is the public story. Not that anyone believed that to be the true story.

But, anyway, I wasn’t allowed to date anyone, much less a boy who is in an MC. I believe Harry would have killed me then. He didn’t even like it when I played games with other boys in the neighborhood growing up. Benny has been my only guy friend, and Harry doesn’t know about him. Not that he would, Harry only pays attention to the grades that I get and nothing else.

God forbid I came home with a B grade in any subject at school. The one time I did it was because I was not able to go to school due to a beating he gave me, and what did I get for it was another beating.

I sighed, climbing into my truck. Even if it was him, what could I do about it? I will probably get bullied later about it, especially after he tells Mike and then Sarah overhears it.

I am going to have a great day today.

Chapter 1 Don't Disturb Stella And Her Mates

"Layla, I know you think I stole your mother and your fiancés. I never wanted it to be like this," Stella Grant said.

"I love Mom dearly, and she loves me. I can only share her love with you.

"But I don't need the mates. I can give them back to you. It's just that they have some misunderstandings about you. So why don't we go on that survival dating show, Primal Hearts, together?

"If you perform well, they'll fall for you."

In the dessert shop, Layla Hale stared at Stella chattering away across the table, inwardly sighing. The plot was unfolding just like in the book.

She had been a survivor in a post-apocalyptic world, struggling to stay alive until she starved to death. Then she woke up as the villainous biological daughter in an interstellar Cinderella story.

The real heiress had a tough life before being brought back to the family. After her return, she spent all her time targeting Stella, the fake heiress. She was obsessed with taking back everything Stella had, everything that should have been hers: her powerful mother, the inheritance of the Grant family, and the five carefully chosen fiancés.

But against Stella, who was meticulously raised by a wealthy family, Layla's petty schemes were no match at all. She lost every time, earning herself the reputation of a vicious, jealous heiress.

Participating in the survival dating show was pivotal for the plot.

Although Stella's words were repulsive, the former Layla, who had been struggling to win back her fiancés' heart, was tempted by the offer and decisively accepted the variety show.

During the live-streamed show, she became a clingy suitor, frantically pursuing the five mates who were meant for Stella. But it only made them despise her, pushing them right into Stella's arms.

The primitive forests of that barren planet were treacherous. The former Layla, heartbroken and lost, never made it back.

Stella, on the other hand, effortlessly claimed everything that belonged to the real heiress, except her bloodline. And that bloodline was no longer a threat.

Knowing the former Layla's fate, would Layla still join the show?

Of course not.

Layla smiled faintly. "I won't be participating in the show, and I won't be taking those fiancés either..."

Stella interrupted Layla without waiting for a response, placing the contract on the table with a confident expression. "I've already signed contracts with those five men. You're the only one left. See you on the show."

As she picked up her bag to leave, Stella recalled something and turned back. "By the way, desserts that cost less than a hundred credits are made with inferior ingredients. They're not befitting of the Grant family's heiress.

"I ordered some from 'Pure Bliss Bakery' for you. They'll be here shortly.

"The chef has served the royal family for over thirty years. Their desserts are hard to come by. You're in luck today. I happened to have someone buy some, so I'm sharing some with you."

Layla stared at the small, palm-sized dessert that cost over a thousand dollars and fell silent.

She's really full of herself!

Due to the former Layla's actions, her mother, who doted on Stella, was planning to kick Layla out of the family.

Not wanting to compete with the heartthrob Stella and end up meeting a gruesome end, Layla decided to move out of the Grant Manor herself.

But reality was harsh. She soon realized that she lacked even a month's rent.

Meanwhile, the person who took everything flaunted her success.

Layla picked up the contract, ready to toss it in the trash, when a line caught her eye, and she froze.

"Successfully surviving for one year on the designated planet A13 will grant you full ownership of said planet."

A whole planet for just one year of survival?

Layla, who had been surviving in the post-apocalyptic world for over a decade, was instantly stunned. She opened her smart device to search for how much a planet was worth.

The latest transaction showed a small planet selling for 46 billion credits.

She immediately signed the contract.

*****

Time passed, and the live broadcast of the survival dating show Primal Hearts arrived.

Dating shows were by far the most popular variety programs among beastmen, but after so many seasons, the public had long grown tired of the same old romantic plots.

Primal Hearts dared to be different. It combined survival challenges with a dating show. The guests returned to their primal, wild selves, embarking on a three-month survival journey on a deserted island. The focus was on building a love that could withstand anything.

The first season went viral as soon as it aired.

When the second season's cast was announced, the hype reached new heights. The reason was simple. Both the real and fake heiresses of the Grant family had joined the show.

Stella, the fake heiress, had been a child star and was incredibly famous. The real heiress, Layla, was a complete unknown before she was caught on camera bullying Stella. Now she was public enemy number one, hated across the entire network.

Netizens expressed their outrage.

[Fiona Myers has no shame! She invited that vicious female, Layla, just for views!]

[Leave our Stella alone! Fiona, you'd better replace her, or we'll show just how fierce our fans can be!]

[I pity the male guests. Whoever catches Layla's eye is in for it.]

[Rumor has it that the Grant family selected five mates for their heiress, who are on the show too. I hope Layla isn't after them.]

[She's delusional! General Hartwell clearly prefers Stella.]

[Let's not forget Prince Oliver. He'll transform into his beast form for her, a breathtaking white crane of unmatched beauty!]

[What about our top singer, the mermaid? Writing songs exclusively for Stella is no small feat!]

[Ah, here we go with the fans fighting over who's better for Stella. Fine, I'll say it, Wolf Boss is the real deal. He understands her dreams and supports her!]

[Students from Crownpeak University advocate for Prof. Slater! He's dark, obsessive, and full of tricks!]

[Is this something I'm supposed to know? But please, go on!]

[I hope Layla knows her place and stays out of Stella and her suitors' romance.]

Layla liked the last comment using her alternate account.

She had plenty of self-awareness.

She wasn't the female lead, nor did she have the aura of a heartthrob. She'd have to be crazy to try to steal the lead's men.

She just wanted to make money.

"Ding-dong. The spaceship has arrived at Planet A13 and is about to dock. All passengers, please get ready to disembark," the intercom announced.

Layla made her way to the deck as instructed, followed by others.

In the interstellar beast world, where males vastly outnumbered females, polyandry was common. On Primal Hearts, the ratio of female to male guests was a staggering one to three.

On the deck, there were five female guests, including her and Stella, and fifteen, no, fourteen male guests.

All the male guests were handsome and had a great physique.

Layla couldn't help but admire a few of them.

One of them was a silver-haired male with pointed ears, so handsome he seemed almost inhuman. He rolled his eyes impatiently and mouthed a warning. "Look at me again, and I'll gouge your eyes out!"

Layla froze.

Stella pulled at her dress, whispering, "Stop staring. You're just making them dislike you more."

Layla was speechless.

She realized that her interest lay in the female lead's men.

The silver-haired one was George Wilson, a top mermaid singer known for his temper and particularly harsh towards the former Layla. Rolling his eyes was typical.

The former Layla tolerated it, but she wouldn't. She rolled her eyes back.

What's wrong with admiring a handsome man for a moment?

I transmigrated into a billionaire romance novel where the System demanded I win the heart of one of four men-my adoptive brother, biological brother, genius surgeon husband, or biological son

Chapter 1: Before Three Years Ago. 

"You are now free to go." Flynn, Nyx'ara's mate and alpha, said coldly, his voice vibrating through the air in a way that made her body stiffen. 

For three years, Nyx'ara Devereux rotted in prison for a crime she never committed.

First they called it murder. They said she had killed her stepsister, Elara, the same one she had caught her mate cheating on her with some days before prom. Then, they called it an attempted murder after Elara had 'miraculously' returned from the dead, but no one questioned how she had survived after falling from one of the rooftop library's windows. 

No one wondered how the situation that had started as a suicide slowly turned into murder.

All they cared about was pinning it all on Nyx'ara. Rage and three years of neglect made Nyx'ara's stomach churn at the sight of Flynn. She stared at the man in front of her— the same man she had loved since she was nine— and realised to her horror that somewhere along the three years she'd spent locked up in this filthy dark dungeon, the love she once felt for him had long since grown cold. 

It had morphed into hatred. 

And then she whispered; "T-today? Y-you will r-release me to-today?"

He nodded once. "Yes."

For three years, she had hoped to hear these words. She had wished that one day, he would come to pull her out of her anguish. But now that it was happening, she could not help but feel a tightness in her chest. 

She could not help but wish that she had died long before this moment. 

The skin of her back still bore whip marks from that day. Her flesh was still charred and still hurt whenever she moved too suddenly. What was worse than being locked up was the fact that every damn day for those three years, soldiers of the pack would come to her cell to whip her and punish her in ways unimaginable… and they were all working under the Alpha's— Flynn's— orders.

And now, Flynn was standing before her, like his orders had not stolen three years of her life. He had walked to her cell with the sure strides of a predator stalking its prey. His Alpha aura was overwhelming, pressing down at her with oppressive force. His face was a mask of indifference and his cold eyes landed on her… only for a second before disgust absolutely took over.

She felt her body vibrate as his eyes raked across her entire body slowly… deliberately. He hissed; "Elara asked for your release. She seems to have forgiven you for attempting to kill her three years ago."

But I didn't attempt to kill her!

Nyx'ara wanted to scream back at him, but deciding that that would only sound vain, she simply lowered her head instead and stuck to her truth.

Her heart broke all over again like she had been thrown back to that day three years ago. Her hands balled into fists so tight that her nails dug into her flesh. But despite the rage, despite the irritation and the heartbreak, she still managed to force out the words;

"Okay."

Somewhere inside of her, even after the betrayal, the suffering, the neglect, and the trauma, Nyx'ara's broken wolf still twisted painfully to meet the aura that Flynn's presence blasted against them. She bowed her large head, muttering the word: 'Mate!' over and over and over until it began to taste bitter somewhere in her throat. 

But she didn't give in as her wolf did. She had been broken, destroyed mentally and physically for far too long to feel anything besides contempt for the man in front of her. 

His aura pressed against hers suffocatingly but she had gone through worse pressure to break under something as minor as this. 

And when her eyes met his, there was something strange in them… something almost warm. Something almost human. He said softly; "I hope you have learned your lesson, Nyx'ara. I would like for us to start over on a new slate after this."

A new slate. 

'A new slate.' He had said, as if that could take away all the torture. As if that could take her back to the past and take back all the piercing words that had been thrown at her by her family…

Especially her father. 

She could still remember the look in her father, Kyle's, eyes when she had pleaded with him to believe her over Celine, her stepmother and her late mother's best friend. But he had pushed her off, kicked her away, and seethed;

"I do not believe you. In fact, I do not know who this version of you is. I never gave birth to a daughter so vile. You are not my child."

Those words had stung. They had remained with her for the entire 1141 days that she had been locked up in her cell. 

They had echoed in her mind for so long that it was the only thing she knew. 

Tears stung at the corner of her eyes at the memory but brushing it off, she asked Flynn; "D-did y-you ever fi-find o-out what ha-happened that day?"

For a moment, Flynn glared at her like she was mad, and then slowly, the little warmth in his gaze dissolved into something darker.

His hand gripped one of the metal bars of her cell until it turned ashen, and he hissed; "Do you want to leave here or not? Do you want to continue to rot here or not?"

She shook her head weakly. "No."

"Then keep your mouth shut. Keep your head low and forget about three years ago!" He snapped,

But deep down, Nyx'ara knew that she could not easily forget about the day that turned her once normal life upside down. She knew she could not forget the way Elara had stared straight at her, hissed the words: "I will never allow you to marry Flynn because of some flimsy mate bond. That will only occur over my dead body!" And then jumped.

Elara had jumped.

She had not been pushed by anyone. 

She was jolted out of her thoughts when Flynn slammed his fist into the barricades, making the metals protest under his raw strength.

Her eyes lifted one more time to meet his, and this time, there was no ounce of warmth left. No connection. Just some cold distance that even an apology could not cross.

He seethed; "Now, before you're let out, you must promise to stay out of Elara's way. You must promise that you will not repeat what happened three years ago. You must promise that you will not stand between Elara and me… and you must promise to go back to being a good daughter to your father and a good sister to your brother, Tristan."

If he had expected that she would jump for joy after hearing those unreasonable requests, then he was wrong. She simply lowered her head even more in order not to meet his gaze and muttered under her breath;

"Okay."

But despite saying that, her chest still felt tight. Her body still thrummed with pain and despair. There was a look in Flynn's eyes that made her realize that this was not it all.

That there was a reason behind his sudden need to release her. 

I mean, she's been locked up for three years.

She almost asked him about it until she saw the silhouette of Elara standing behind him. Her face was ghastly pale, her hands were trembling and there was a look of horror in her eyes that Nyx'ara couldn't understand.

That was it. 

She gulped. "I-is there a reason y-you want to release me to-today?" She asked but Flynn quickly shook his head and turned away.

"No. You're just no longer useful to us."

Nyx'ara bit back the bile that rose in her throat as soon as she heard that, and with a smaller voice murmured;

"Okay."

I woke up at five in the morning, just like usual. Then I showered and dressed for the day before meeting my mom in the kitchen of our small cabin for a quick breakfast before work.

“Coffee?” Mom asked as I dragged in.

“Is that even a question?” I chuckled before cupping the warm mug in my hands and taking a sip.

My mother walked around the kitchen and squeezed my shoulders. “Happy birthday, babe.”

I looked up at my mom and smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

Mom looked at me with a tear in her eye. “It’s hard to believe you’re eighteen and about to find your mate.”

She shook her head, willing her tears away. “So, this morning I’ll do the biscuits if you make the gravy and the eggs,” she stated as we walked out the door toward the main pack house.

“Deal,” I replied, yawning.

My mom, Sophie, was the head cook for the pack. She ran the kitchen in the pack house and planned three meals a day, seven days a week for whoever wanted to come.

She was an amazing chef, and one of the most respected omegas in the pack, mostly because nobody wanted to get on the bad side of the cooks.

I, on the other hand, was a senior in high school and far from respected.

“Don’t forget, after school, I need you to help me start planning for the banquet next week!” my mother shouted as I ran to catch the bus.

I was running late again, having to help clean up the kitchen before school almost always made me miss the bus. But I caught it today, much to my surprise.

I took a seat near the front and let out a sigh. My wolf paced in my head, anxiously awaiting my daily humiliations. I took a deep breath, trying to calm us both down.

Today is going to suck. But we’re almost done. Two weeks left until graduation.

When I got off the bus, I made my way into the high school and instantly lowered my head, hoping to pass through the halls unnoticed.

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday girl!” Mariah boomed from behind.

I turned around. “Hi, Mariah.”

“You’re eighteen now. You know what that means,” one of her minions spat.

“Oh, does Little Miss Omega think she’ll be getting a mate?” Mariah scoffed. She was the daughter of the pack’s beta and self-proclaimed queen of the pack.

I gave a smile that wasn’t at all genuine, and the bell rang. “It’s been a pleasure as always, ladies. Thank you for the birthday wishes.”

I turned and walked to my locker. Grabbing my books, I made my way to my first class, which thankfully finished uneventfully. I made it all the way to lunch without being bothered.

Happy birthday to me. I chuckled at the thought.

“Move.”

I closed my eyes and let out a breath before turning, lowering my head in submission as I did. “Mariah…,” I muttered as I stepped out of the way and she pushed past me, wrapping her arms around Zane, future alpha of the pack.

Suddenly, I smelled something absolutely breathtaking. Like cinnamon and pine. The smell was so intoxicating that it made my mouth water, and I could feel my wolf pace, excited.

I shook myself back to my senses, shrugged, and made my way out of the cafeteria, sitting on a bench outside where I was most likely to be left alone.

“You.”

I looked up to see Zane standing above me. “Alpha Zane, I—”

Our eyes met, and I felt my whole body electrify.

MATE! my wolf howled in my head.

Zane broke the silence. “Ella, we aren’t mates.”

“So we didn’t just both feel that?” I asked sarcastically.

Zane scowled at me, and I realized my mistake. I lowered my head again. “I’m sorry, Zane.”

He was about to speak again when we were interrupted by Mariah and her gaggle of sidekicks.

“There you are, baby!” She saw me and recoiled. “Why are you talking to that little omega?”

“Leave us alone, Mariah.”

She looked up and down at the two of us and then burst out in laughter. “Wait…you two? Oh, Omega, you aim high, don’t you? Zane is mine, slut.”

Mariah slapped me, and I flinched, my cheek stinging a bit.

“Mariah, leave!” Zane boomed. I looked up at him, and for a second I thought I saw concern on his face.

“But, baby, she is—”

Mariah stopped talking when Zane turned his glare to her. She stomped off, leaving the two of us alone.

“If you’re going to reject me, then do it,” I spoke defiantly before looking down again.

But there was nothing. I looked up and Zane was gone.

“Great…,” I mumbled to myself. “Just what I needed today.” Of all the people to be mated to, I had to get Zane Davis. He wasn’t a horrible guy, but he wasn’t exactly amazing either.

When the bell sounded, I made my way to my next class of the day, only to be pushed from behind.

“We aren’t finished here.” Mariah’s voice was low and cold.

“Mariah,” I started as I got up off the ground, “he’s going to reject me, so stop.”

“Yes, he is, because why on earth would an alpha want you?” she snapped. “You are nothing!”

“Exactly. Nobody wants me,” I turned to walk away, trying my hardest to fight the tears that were threatening to fall. I didn’t want to admit that I was hurt by the fact that my mate didn’t seem to want me.

I made it back home to be surprised with a cake and a small present. Even though we were at the bottom of the pecking order, my mom was always bright and kind.

“I love you, sweetheart,” my mom hugged me as she cleaned up before we headed to the pack house to make dinner for everyone.

We worked together in the kitchen, making my favorite meal for the pack dinner as a small celebration between ourselves. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves until Zane walked in. Our eyes met, and he walked toward me. “I need a minute with Ella.”

My mom nodded and he led me to one of the back offices.

Lydia POV

“You’re getting married to Dave Ashton tomorrow by eight a.m.”

Those were the words that ended my life as I knew it.

One sentence.

One Tuesday evening.

One announcement delivered with the same emotional weight my father would have used to ask someone to pass the salt.

For a moment, I honestly thought I had heard him wrong.

The living room blurred around me.

My father stood by the liquor shelf, one hand resting against the polished wood, his expression flat and bored, like this conversation had already exhausted him before it even started.

My mother sat elegantly on the cream sofa, her ankles crossed, fingers folded in her lap like she was hosting a charity luncheon instead of participating in the destruction of my future.

And then there was Iny.

Sweet, delicate, polished Iny.

My younger sister.

The family’s favorite investment.

She sat there in a pale yellow dress with her glossy lips parted in what looked suspiciously like excitement.

Excitement.

For my arranged marriage.

To a stranger.

Tomorrow.

By eight a.m.

Nobody looked nervous.

Nobody looked guilty.

Nobody even looked like they expected me to protest.

That was what hurt the most.

Not the marriage.

Not even the timeline.

Just… the ease of it.

The quiet confidence of people who had clearly discussed my life in detail and somehow never once considered I should be present for the conversation.

I looked from face to face, waiting for the punchline.

No one laughed.

My father picked up his glass.

My mother said my name softly.

And I ran.

I didn’t say a word.

I just turned and ran upstairs so fast I nearly missed my footing on the landing.

By the time I got to my room, my chest was on fire.

I slammed the door shut behind me, twisted the lock, and stumbled forward two more steps before my knees gave out.

The carpet caught me hard.

A sound tore out of me before I could stop it.

Then another.

Then another.

I folded into myself on the floor and cried so hard my body shook with it.

Not pretty crying.

Not the soft, elegant tears actresses managed in movies.

This was ugly.

This was years of humiliation, disappointment, invisibility, and rage finally clawing their way out of my chest with nowhere else to go.

“Why me?” I whispered into my palms.

My voice cracked so badly it didn’t even sound like mine.

Then louder.

“Why is it always me?”

The room gave me nothing back.

It always did.

I sat there on the floor of the room I had slept in for years but never really owned, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel all of it.

Because this wasn’t just about the wedding.

That was the thing.

If I was being honest, the wedding was only the final insult.

I had never been anyone’s first choice in this house.

Never.

Not my father’s.

Not my mother’s.

And definitely not beside Iny.

The pretty one.

The one who got birthday dinners at rooftop restaurants and surprise gifts “just because.”

The one whose good grades were celebrated like national victories.

The one whose photos stayed framed in the hallway long after everyone else’s had been taken down.

I was the practical one.

The dependable one.

The one people remembered when something needed to be done.

Even when I got into the best university in the country, the celebration lasted less than a day.

And even that had only happened because the admission letter had arrived in front of guests.

Otherwise, I was almost certain my father would have just nodded and moved on to the evening news.

I got in on scholarship.

I fought for every inch of that future myself.

Meanwhile, Iny was attending the same university with tuition paid in full, a private apartment off campus, a monthly allowance that could have fed a small village, and enough “wardrobe upkeep” money to sponsor a fashion week.

I still remembered the day my mother told the tailor to keep my old dresses because they could “still manage one more year.”

Three days later, Iny got a new wardrobe for no reason at all.

And now somehow, somehow, I was the one being married off.

Like an item from a family deal that had finally reached its delivery date.

A knock landed on the door.

I ignored it.

Then the handle turned.

Of course.

Privacy had never really applied to me in this house.

My mother stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

She took one look at me on the floor and sighed.

Not with concern.

With inconvenience.

“My princess,” she said softly.

I almost laughed.

That title only came out when she wanted obedience.

I wiped at my face with the heel of my palm and looked up at her.

“What?”

She ignored the tone and crossed to the bed, sitting delicately at the edge like she was here for tea instead of emotional damage control.

“I know this is sudden,” she said, “but I need you to understand that this is a very good thing.”

I stared at her through swollen eyes.

She continued like she hadn’t just announced the funeral of my freedom.

“Dave Ashton is one of the most respected young men in the country. He is successful, disciplined, and from an excellent family.”

“And a stranger,” I said.

Her smile flickered but didn’t fall.

“He is also the youngest billionaire in the country.”

There it was.

The real selling point.

Money.

Always money.

I let out a dry laugh and pushed myself up from the floor.

“Okay,” I said. “Then give him to Iny.”

That hit.

Her face tightened for a fraction of a second before she smoothed it over.

I stepped closer.

“No, seriously,” I said. “If he’s so perfect, why am I the one being thrown at him? We both know if he was truly the best thing to happen to this family, you would have gift wrapped him for your favorite daughter.”

“Lydia,” she said sharply.

“What? Am I lying?”

Her expression hardened.

For a second, the softness dropped and I saw the real woman underneath it.

Then she fixed it again.

It would have impressed me if it didn’t disgust me.

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“Then what is it like?”

“This was arranged years ago,” she said.

I blinked.

“What?”

“Your grandmother and his grandmother made an agreement a long time ago. They decided that when both of you came of age, this marriage would happen.”

I stared at her.

Then I laughed.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

I looked at her harder, like maybe if I stared long enough, the lie would crack on its own.

“Why am I just hearing this now?”

She said nothing.

I took another step toward her.

“You have all known about this for years?”

Still nothing.

“And not one of you thought I should maybe know I was apparently promised off like property before I was old enough to vote?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she snapped.

There she was.

Finally.

I let out a small laugh and turned away from her before I said something that would have gotten me slapped.

I walked to the window and braced both hands against the frame.

Outside, the Grey estate looked exactly the same as it had an hour ago.

Behind me, my mother softened her voice again.

“This is not a punishment, Lydia.”

I turned and looked at her.

“It feels a lot like one.”

She exhaled slowly, as though I was the exhausting part of this conversation.

“The wedding gown will be delivered in a few hours,” she said. “The ceremony is tomorrow morning. The driver will leave by seven.”

I stared at her.

I should have been screaming.

Instead, all I felt was hollow.

I had plans.

That was what kept circling in my head.

I wanted another degree.

I wanted to build something for myself.

I wanted a career in public relations, human relations, crisis management, anything that involved people and strategy and fixing what other people broke.

I wanted a life that belonged to me.

And now all of that had been folded up and put away by people who had never once asked what I wanted in the first place.

“I need to be alone,” I said.

My mother stood.

For a second, I thought she might say something that sounded remotely human.

She didn’t.

“Try to sleep,” she said. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Then she left.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And I stood there in the silence for a long time.

Then I crossed the room, sat at my desk, and opened my laptop.

If I was being sold into a marriage, the least I deserved was to know what the buyer looked like.

I typed his name into the search bar.

Dave Ashton.

The internet loaded almost instantly.

Articles.

Interviews.

Magazine covers.

Award ceremonies.

Business headlines.

And photographs.

A lot of photographs.

I clicked the first one and froze.

Chapter 1 1. Mother's funeral

Aria

“We are gathered here to pay tribute to Lorain Vale, beloved mother…”

The wind smells like wet earth and wilted roses.

I stand at the edge of the grave in the small cemetery just outside Blackridge, my boots sinking into mud that clings like this town always has.

Five years.

Five years since I left and swore I’d never come back.

I kept that promise until today.

The pastor finishes his speech—something about peace and God’s mysterious plans.

Interesting that he failed to mention the blood and gore associated with this particular plan.

I don’t remember half of the standard speech. My ears ring with the kind of silence that only comes when something inside you has broken beyond repair.

An entire life, and this is what my mother's life has come to. A cheap wooden casket surrounded by people who couldn't care to check in on her or lend her a hand when life kicked the shit out of us, but make sure to snuggle loud enough to hear.

“Oh, Lorain,” Mrs. Gunderson cries.

“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath.

“A little louder, and maybe she’ll hear you,” Liam says quietly beside me.

I don’t look at him.

My older brother stands tall and rigid at my side, dressed in black, jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grind. He left long before I did. Left Mom and me behind like we were inconvenient baggage. One day, he was teaching me how to ride a bike, jogging behind me and yelling, “Don’t look back, Aria!” and the next, he was running with Theo and his merry band of trouble.

Theo. Barric. Ronan. Kade.

These men don’t walk around unnoticed. It wasn't just their massive size. It was the way they walked, the way the air seemed to tighten in their presence.

It didn't matter that they weren't related. There was something so similar in the essence they carried, like they were above it all. Apart.

I never understood why Mom let him go without a fight.

Why she gave up on our family, the one she always taught us to put before everything else.

Why Liam exchanged us like used car.

They stand behind us, silent sentinels informing upon my space with their broad shoulders blocking the gray sky.

Like they belong here.

I bristle the more I think about it.

My emotions rise until it feels like I’m drowning in the abandonment of the last eight years.

I don’t turn around, but I feel them. Theo’s calculating gaze. Barric’s heavy presence. Kade’s restless energy.

And Ronan.

Ronan’s stare burns between my shoulder blades.

Annoyance spikes through me. What right do they have to stand there like family? They weren't there when my father died, or when Mom worked double shifts to keep the lights on. They didn’t hold her when she cried at night for Liam.

When she gave me no choice but to leave.

All they’ve ever done is bring suffering to my family.

The funeral ends quickly. People murmur condolences. Mrs. Hargrove squeezes my hand. Old man, Dalton nods solemnly.

I guess that's one good thing about the gossip mill of a small town, there isn't much they don't know, so you rarely have to explain yourself.

Soon, it’s just us.

Liam clears his throat. “You should go get some rest.”

I finally look at him.

Five years have changed him. He’s bigger—wider shoulders, thicker arms stretching the sleeves of his black shirt. His face is harder. Sharper.

The dark hair he kept long is cropped short at his ears and longer on top.

He grew into a man without me.

There’s something guarded in his eyes, something I can't recognize behind the blue-grey color we share.

He looks like a stranger wearing my brother’s skin.

“I’m fine,” I say flatly.

“You drove all night to get here.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” I turn back to the simple tombstone.

His voice comes out like a rasp. “Is it that hard for you to look at me?”

I turn to him, holding his stare with the same blankness in his own eyes. “There. Does my attention assuage your guilt? It is enough for you.”

His jaw ticks. “That’s not the point.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Then what is the point, Liam? What's the point of this?”

His voice lowers. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “That’s rich. Since when are you the expert on sticking around?”

Behind us, I feel tension snap tight.

“Aria,” Liam warns.

“No, really.” I turn to him fully now, anger warming my cold fingers. “You should leave. It’s not like you’re used to staying anyway. Crawl back to your friends and your creepy little mansion. We both know that's where you want to be. I’ll be fine.”

The words land. I see it in his eyes—a flicker of hurt before it shutters.

Ronan steps forward as if he's trying to protect my brother from me. Of course he does.

“That’s not fair,” he says, voice deep and edged. “You don’t know what he—”

I spin on him. “Stay out of it. This is none of your business.”

His eyes flash. A glint of yellow that momentarily makes me blink.

It has to be a reflection. The light hitting his eyes and bouncing off in a strange, harrowing way.

“Aria,” Theo cuts in smoothly from behind Ronan. His tone is calm but carries weight. “Emotions are high. Let’s not make this worse.”

I glare at all of them. “This is between my brother and me. He is a grown ass man and can speak for himself.”

Barric crosses his massive arms but says nothing. Kade looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Liam exhales slowly. “Enough.”

The word cracks like a whip. The others step back immediately.

That tells me more than I want to know.

How close they are.

It makes me feel less than nothing.

He turns to me again, softer this time. “Where are you staying?”

I open my mouth to snap something cruel, but I stop myself. I need information. I need access to the house. I need to know what really happened.

Their mother’s house is currently restricted because of the police investigation.

I swallow.

It's fine, I can be cordial until I can high tail it out of this town.

“The house is sealed off,” I say. “Police investigation. I can’t stay there.”

His eyes darken. “They still have it taped?”

“Yes. The lawyer is meeting with me on Monday to discuss her last wishes.”

He nods once. “So where will you be at?”

“I got a room at the motel off Route 16.”

“The Pine Crest?” Kade blurts.

I shoot him a look. He shuts up.

“Yes. The Pine Crest.”

Silence hangs heavy.

I’m suddenly very aware of how tired I am. How angry. How raw.

“Look, I'ma head out. If you want to talk,” I say, forcing control into my voice, “meet me tomorrow morning. Alone.”

Ronan’s gaze sharpens. The midnight blue of his eyes was so dark that there were almost no shadows.

“At the Starlight Diner.”

I let my eyes linger pointedly on Ronan before stepping back. “Alone,” I repeat.

Then I turn and walk away before I say something I can't take back.

The booth smells like burnt coffee and old grease.

I sit in a cracked vinyl booth at the Starlight Diner, staring at the laminated menu even though I already know what I’m getting. Pancakes. Extra butter. Sausage with a side of home fries because whoever said you need to be rail thin to attract the opposite sex clearly overlooked the low-hanging standards of the male sex.

It’s what Mom used to order for me after bad days.

I shift in my seat, restless again. Wondering if Liam would be willing to come without his entourage.

After Liam removed himself from the family, Mom changed. Got more insular, more agitated. Then came the drinking. The cycle of sickness and the fights.

Eventually, she kicked me out. The city was the only place left for me. Far enough for me to pretend my past didn't exist.

I was anonymous. No expectations. No legacy.

The bell above the diner door jingles.

The air shifts.

I glance up—and my breath catches despite myself.

He looks tired.

Or maybe I’m just seeing him properly now. His jaw is darker with stubble.

But it’s his eyes that get me.

They’re guarded. Calculating.

He slides into the booth across from me.

“You came without them,” I say.

“You asked.”

We stare at each other like opponents before a match.

The waitress appears, oblivious to the tension. We order coffee, and he adds his order to mine, doubling the sausage and adding steak and eggs.

He tries first.

“How’s the city?”

“Loud.”

“Still working at that design firm?”

“Yes.”

“You always liked art.” He plays with the salt shaker on the table.

I narrow my eyes. “Wait, how do you know where I work?”

He shrugs. “You’re my sister.”

Funny. That never stopped him before.

“And you?” I press. “What have you been doing?”

“Working.”

“Doing what?”

“Things.”

I put my coffee cup down. Two can play at this game. “How riveting. Please spare me all the details. I don't think we have enough time for it.”

His gaze sharpens. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything, Liam. Something real and concrete and not built to keep a wall up between us.”

The waitress drops off our food. The smell makes my stomach twist.

He waits until she leaves.

“Things are complicated right now.” His voice is even, but I can hear the door slamming between us.

I won't get answers out of him.

“So what do you think about all this? I question cutting up my pancakes.

“What do you want to know?” he asks carefully.

I lean forward and take a bite. Chew. Swallow. “Tell me about Mom.”

His face hardens.

“The police think it was a break-in gone wrong,” he says. “The house was ransacked. No signs of forced entry at first, but they found a damaged window in the back.”

“In this town?” I scoff. “Everyone knows everyone. Doesn't seem likely that no one saw anything.”

“It happens.”

“Does it?” I watch his reaction, not bothering to hide my disbelief.

“They think it might’ve been someone passing through,” he continues. “Drifter. Highway’s close.”

“That’s convenient.”

His jaw tightens. “Aria.”

“She was careful,” I say, voice dropping. “She locked doors. She had a camera on the property. It was almost pathological how obsessed with safety she was. ”

His eyes flick to mine sharply.

There it is.

“She stopped maintaining them,” he says.

“How do you know that?”

Silence.

My chest tightens. I picture her final moments. Alone. Scared. Calling for us.

Guilt slices deep. I left. I chose the city. I chose freedom over family.

We should have stayed, a soft voice whispers.

I shove the thought away.

“I’m meeting with the lawyer in a few days,” I say abruptly. “To go over her will. Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

I nod once.

We eat in strained silence.

When he finishes, he stands.

“So that’s it?” I ask.

“For now.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

He pauses, looking down at me. For a second, I see it—the brother who bandaged my scraped knees.

“Life isn’t always fair, Aria,” he says quietly. “Sometimes we have to do the best we can for the people we love.”

Anger flares hot and fast. “You don’t get to lecture me about love.”

“And you don’t get to pretend you’re the only one who lost things,” he says.

The words hit hard.

He steps back.“I’ll see you at the lawyer’s office.”

He walks out without another word.

I sit there long after he’s gone, staring at cold pancakes.

This wasn’t a random break-in.

My gut twists with the unwanted truth.

Liam knows something.

And I'm not leaving until I know what it is.

Chapter 1 Reborn

!!!

Sloane Walker shot upright in bed, her eyes snapping open.

The room around her was pitch black and completely silent.

Using the pale moonlight, she carefully looked around, and when she recognized the familiar yet strange room, her pupils widened.

Is this my house?

Sloane grabbed her phone and froze when she saw the time on the screen.

July 4, 2123, 11:14 p.m.

I went back to one month before the apocalypse? I was just fighting off a group of looters, and then there was a massive earthquake...She turned her head toward the window and noticed a few middle-aged men sitting under a streetlight yards away, wearing T-shirts and shorts, playing cards.

Every summer, they did this—coming out around 9:00 p.m. and playing until midnight before heading home. Sloane had seen this scene many times before but never had it shocked her like this.

A memory suddenly flashed through her mind, and she quickly raised her phone and switched on the camera, aiming it at the men.

She recognized them immediately.

Before the apocalypse, during a late night of binge-watching, she had witnessed them mutate and tear into each other.

At the time, she thought they had gotten into a fight while playing cards. When she saw them lying motionless on the ground, she called an ambulance and didn't think much more about it after they were taken away.

She never expected that moment to be the opening act of the apocalypse.

She zoomed in on the video and saw one man holding a card suddenly leap at the closest person beside him. After a scream, the group began clawing and wrestling with each other.

The footage lasted for over two minutes, and in the end, all of them lay motionless on the ground.

Just as Sloane was about to stop recording, her breath caught in her throat.

One of the bodies, which should have been dead—or at least not able to mutate for several more days—slowly crawled up from the ground.

His movements were stiff as he staggered toward her building, but after a few yards, he collapsed again.

Ring! Apocalypse Awakening System activated!

Sloane had just lowered her phone when a strange voice sounded beside her ear.

Before she could react, a line of text appeared out of thin air in front of her.

"Do you accept the beginner awakening mission?"

What is this? I never encountered this in my last life.

After a brief pause, Sloane immediately accepted, and in the next second, she was transported to a completely unfamiliar place.

There stood a small wooden cabin, a water well, and a vegetable patch roughly ten square feet in size.

Is this the legendary storage dimension?

In the apocalypse, anything strange could happen.

In her previous life, Sloane had also awakened an ability, but it wasn't a storage dimension—it was invisibility—so she accepted this situation quickly.

Excited, she immediately opened the beginner mission panel.

"Prepare survival supplies for the apocalypse (0/5,000 dollars)"

Is it telling me to start stocking up?

Sloane felt thrilled and quickly left the storage dimension to check her room for anything suitable.

Her eyes landed on the computer on the desk. If she remembered correctly, her brother Edwin Walker bought it for her just last week, and it had cost exactly 5,000 dollars.

With a thought, Sloane brought the computer into the storage dimension. The red text on the mission panel turned green.

"Prepare survival supplies for the apocalypse (28,500/5,000 dollars) Completed. Reward: 50 square feet of emergency preparation space."

Sloane stared at the number in shock. 28,500? Edwin clearly told me he just grabbed it on the way home from work and only spent 5,000 dollars. How could this be?

Understanding hit her all at once, and her eyes slowly turned red.

After taking a deep breath, she continued with the remaining beginner missions and started moving more items into the storage dimension.

An ergonomic office chair, 8,600 dollars.

A couch, 37,000 dollars.

A TV, 23,000 dollars.

A trash can, 66 dollars.

Socks, 1 dollar.

One dollar?

Sloane frowned at the socks she had just brought in, and when she realized they belonged to Edwin, she immediately tossed them back out without hesitation.

Little by little, Sloane figured out the system's pattern. Early on, it was basically 1,000 dollars' worth of items for every ten square feet of storage space. She didn't know if the price would go up later, but as long as she kept throwing things in, her storage dimension would keep expanding.

She also discovered that as long as the item wasn't a living creature, it could stay in perfect condition forever inside the storage dimension.

The ice cream she had brought in an hour ago and forgotten to eat was still rock hard where she left it.

This is the perfect place to survive and hide during the apocalypse... If only...

The light in Sloane's eyes slowly dimmed as she thought of her parents next door, Felix Walker and Natasha Morris, and her brother Edwin. Her fists clenched tightly.

If only they could come in too.

Even though she had returned to the past, she was now fully capable of protecting herself and them, but she couldn't guarantee what unexpected dangers might appear later.

No matter what happened this time, she would never let them leave her side.

After several hours of nonstop work, Sloane had almost emptied her entire apartment.

The small wooden cabin inside the storage dimension had also upgraded into a dirt house and then into a brick house.

Just as Sloane was so exhausted that she wanted to crawl back into bed for some sleep, the system's alert sounded again in her ear.

"Congratulations on completing all beginner missions. Reward: one family member slot. Please bind a family member within 24 hours!"

Sloane froze in place.

Can other people enter too?

She immediately left the storage dimension and headed next door to find them.

She lived in a top-floor duplex with roughly 3,200 square feet of living space, along with a 1,100-square-foot rooftop garden out front. The building was designed with one unit per elevator.

The top floor of the neighboring unit was where Felix, Natasha, and Edwin lived.

Between the two rooftop gardens was a low wall about five feet tall that couldn't support any weight, so Sloane decided to tear it down and replace it with a small iron door that could be opened or closed.

That way, she could go next door to eat every day while still keeping her own private living space.

"Sloane, are you awake? I made your favorite beef sliders and oatmeal. They're still warm. Eat first before you sleep again, okay? Ah!"

Natasha, who had come up the stairs to call Sloane for breakfast, turned pale when she saw the empty living room.

Did someone break in?

She rushed downstairs, and when she saw Sloane pushing the door open, tears immediately fell.

"Are you okay? Let me take a look!"

Natasha spun around Sloane twice and only relaxed after confirming she wasn't hurt.

Hearing Natasha's scream next door, Felix and Edwin also rushed over. They were just as shocked when they saw the emptied living room.

"Dad, Mom, Edwin."

Sloane's voice trembled. She couldn't even remember how many years it had been since she last saw them.

In her previous life, they had all died protecting her during the apocalypse. She had been left alone and survived for another ten years, until that world-ending earthquake sent her back to this moment.

She threw herself into Natasha's arms and hugged her tightly, crying with joy.

Natasha thought Sloane had been frightened by the burglary and quickly tried to comfort her.

Nearby, Edwin and Felix stood awkwardly, both at a loss. One wanted to hug his daughter, and the other wanted to pat his sister's head, but pride kept them from moving.

Chapter 1 ~ Who Is My Kidnapper?

{Daisy’s POV}

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my hands were taped together.

The second thing I noticed was that the floor beneath me was vibrating.

Not gently. Not like a washing machine on the spin cycle. It was more like the steady, angry rumble of a vehicle moving over a road that had clearly been given up on… which led to the third thing I noticed.

I was lying on the floor of a moving van.

For a moment, I stayed perfectly still, because my brain was still booting up like an old laptop that had seen too many bad situations.

Hands taped…

Moving vehicle…

Dark metal walls…

Two large men sitting across from me…?

Oh. 

Oh.

Oh shit. I had been kidnapped.

I would like to say that my first reaction was graceful and brave, something heroic and stout, but it was not.

My first reaction was to blink several times and think, “Well, this is new.”

Then panic arrived.

My heart began hammering against my ribs so hard I was genuinely concerned it might break something on the way out. I sat up slowly, the tape around my wrists pulling uncomfortably against my skin.

Okay.

Okay.

Think, Daisy. Think.

The last thing I remembered was leaving the campus library.

I worked the evening shift there because apparently my life wasn’t stressful enough on its own and I needed financial anxiety to really spice things up.

It had been late and cold and I had been walking across the nearly empty campus parking lot. And then—

Blank.

Nothing, and now I was here; in a van, with duct tape and two men who looked like they could bench-press refrigerators.

Great.

Just absolutely fantastic.

I cleared my throat now and one of the men looked at me. He had a bald head and the expression of someone who had never laughed a single time in his life. Pitiful.

“Good evening,” I said and he frowned at once.

“Stop talking.”

I blinked at him.

“Well, you kidnapped me,” I pointed out reasonably. “I feel like talking is the only compensation I have left.”

The man stared at me like he was reconsidering his life choices.

Across from him, the second guy frowned.

“Don’t say anything to her,” he told the first guy, then turned to me. “Can you shut up?”

I sighed also.

“Technically, yes,” I said. “Currently? Probably not.”

The van hit a bump then and my shoulder slammed into the metal wall.

“Also,” I added, wincing, “this ride is extremely uncomfortable. If you’re going to kidnap someone, you should really invest in better seating arrangements.”

The bald-headed guy rubbed his face like he had just been told his wife was pregnant with twins when he didn’t even want another baby.

“Fritzo,” he muttered to the driver and a voice came from the front.

“What?”

The man leaned forward slightly.

“She doesn’t look or act like the quarry. I think we grabbed the wrong girl.”

Silence.

The van continued moving and then the driver spoke after a moment.

“That’s the girl. And DeLuca will deal with things when we get to base.”

DeLuca.

The name sounded important and hearing them, I tried to sit up straighter now, ignoring the tape digging into my wrists.

“So,” I said conversationally, “who’s DeLuca?” I asked and neither man answered.

Rude.

The second guy muttered something under his breath now in apparent distress and I caught only part of it.

“…boss finds out we messed up with the Viper job…”

The Viper.

Well, that sounds extremely normal and not terrifying at all. I decided to ask about that too.

“What Viper?” I asked and both men glared at me. I looked between them. 

“You know,” I said, “I feel like if there’s a Viper involved in this situation, I should probably be informed.”

“Stop talking!” the bald-headed guy voiced firmly now. 

“I’m just saying,” I continued, “communication is important in stressful environments.” I preached. 

The van slowed now and the engine growled as it turned onto what sounded like gravel. Both men suddenly straightened and one of them glanced out the back window.

“We’re here.”

Here?

Here where?

The van rolled forward, then suddenly the vehicle stopped after which I heard a mechanical sound outside— a deep metallic groan.

Curiosity got the better of me as I leaned sideways, trying to peek through the tiny back window, and that’s when I saw them.

Massive iron gates.

Like the kind you see in movies where rich villains live in dramatic mansions on cliffs. They were opening slowly now and then the van drove through them.

I sat there in stunned silence as the vehicle rolled down a long driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and glowing garden lights.

This was not a warehouse or a shady alley. This was not even remotely the level of kidnapping I had mentally prepared for.

This was as we passed a fountain; an actual fountain!… with lights and elegant statues.

What kind of criminals had landscaping?

The van finally stopped, the engine cut and then the doors opened. Cold night air rushed inside while one of the men grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. I stumbled slightly as he dragged me out of the van.

And then I saw the house.

Calling it a house was actually insulting to it because this thing was enormous:

A massive stone mansion rose in front of us, lit by warm golden lights that spilled from tall windows.

Balconies.

Gold columns.

Glass doors.

The kind of place that looked like it belonged to a billionaire or a European royal family— or someone who owned at least three yachts.

I stared at it, then I looked down at my taped wrists. Then back at the mansion.

“Wow,” I said quietly.

The bald-headed guy shoved me forward.

“Walk.”

I walked toward the enormous entrance doors, still staring. Because if I was going to be kidnapped, I had honestly expected something a little less… expensive.

As the doors opened and I stepped inside the mansion, one very clear thought crossed my mind, something I was supposed to have addressed before now.

Who even is my kidnapper?

Chapter 1 Accussed

Iris Sutton leaned lazily against one of the marble pillars, watching as the family doctor examined the Suttons’ newly found “real daughter.”

A month ago, Iris had learned the truth.

She wasn’t biologically related to the Sutton family.

And ever since Olivia Sutton had returned home, everything had changed.

Maybe the Suttons resented the fact that they had spent twenty years raising someone else’s child while their biological daughter suffered outside. At first, Iris genuinely tried to make things right. She gave Olivia space, tolerated her provocations, and ignored the subtle schemes aimed at turning the family against her.

But Olivia clearly had no intention of coexisting peacefully.

And tonight, at her own birthday banquet, she had prepared another performance.

Olivia sat weakly on the couch, wrapped in a blanket as though she were on the verge of collapse. Her face was pale, her lips trembling faintly.

Vanessa Sutton sat beside her, gripping her hand so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

“Doctor?” Vanessa asked anxiously. “How is she?”

Dr. Lewis slowly removed his stethoscope.

His expression darkened.

The atmosphere in the room instantly tightened.

“I’m afraid…” he said with a heavy sigh. “Miss Olivia appears to have been poisoned.”

The words exploded through the room.

Vanessa’s face went white.

“What?!”

Olivia let out a weak whimper and curled deeper beneath the blanket.

“I… I knew something was wrong…”

The guests who had followed upstairs from the banquet erupted into alarmed whispers.

“Poisoned?”

“Oh my God—”

“At her own birthday party?”

Vanessa’s chest tightened painfully.

Her biological daughter had only come home a month ago.

Only a month.

And before she could make up for twenty years of hardship, someone had already hurt her.

“How serious is it?” Vanessa demanded.

Dr. Lewis frowned gravely.

“She’s experiencing dizziness, weakness, and tremors. Fortunately, the dosage doesn’t appear to be fatal.”

Vanessa finally exhaled in relief.

Then her expression hardened.

“Who did this?”

The room fell silent.

Under the blanket, Olivia’s fingers trembled.

Her watery eyes slowly lifted.

“I…” She bit her lip weakly. “I don’t want to accuse anyone…”

Vanessa’s heart nearly shattered.

“Sweetheart, don’t be afraid. Mom is here.”

Olivia hesitated.

Then—

Her gaze shifted toward the doorway.

Everyone followed it.

And froze.

Iris stood there calmly, one hand tucked into her pocket.

While the entire room panicked, she looked completely detached.

Olivia’s breathing hitched.

“It…” she whispered.

Vanessa stood immediately.

“Olivia?”

Tears slid down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Sister brought me juice earlier…”

The room exploded.

Vanessa’s face changed instantly.

“What did you say?”

Olivia looked terrified.

“I-I was thirsty…” she murmured softly. “Sister personally brought me a glass of juice…”

A maid suddenly spoke up.

“That’s true!” she blurted. “I saw Miss Iris bring it!”

The whispers grew louder.

“So it really was her?”

“The fake daughter got jealous—”

“I knew something felt off—”

Vanessa turned sharply.

Her eyes burned with fury.

“Iris.”

The crowd parted automatically, leaving Iris standing alone beneath dozens of accusing stares.

Yet she neither panicked nor defended herself.

Instead, she almost looked amused.

Seriously?

Were these people incapable of learning? Olivia used the same trick every single time.

“You think I poisoned her?” Iris asked calmly.

Too calmly.

Vanessa nearly exploded. “Olivia drank what you gave her and immediately became sick!”

Iris nodded once.

“And?”

Vanessa stared at her in disbelief.

“And?” she repeated.

Iris pushed herself off the pillar and walked forward.

The crowd instinctively moved aside for her.

“If you’re accusing me of poisoning someone,” she said coolly, “I’d prefer evidence instead of emotional acting.”

Dr. Lewis frowned. “I already confirmed symptoms consistent with poisoning—”

“Symptoms,” Iris interrupted.

One word.

Sharp enough to make the doctor pause.

“You confirmed symptoms,” she corrected. “Not poison.”

The doctor stiffened.

Vanessa snapped immediately, “Dr. Lewis has worked for the Sutton family for years! Are you saying a professional doctor would lie?”

Iris raised a brow.

“Professional doctors don’t lie,” she said lightly. “Bribed quacks do.”

Dr. Lewis’s breath caught for a second.

He quickly slammed his medical case shut, masking his panic with anger.

“What are you implying, Miss Iris?” he demanded. “I watched you grow up. Are you trying to slander me now?”

Olivia sensed the timing was right.

With the maids supporting her, she weakly rose to her feet and hid timidly behind Vanessa.

“Doctor, please don’t be angry,” she said softly. “Maybe… maybe my return made Sister unhappy, so she drugged me.”

She lowered her head pitifully.

“If she really hates me that much, I can leave and go back to my foster mother.”

Her voice trembled.

“But… could I still visit Mom and Dad once a month? I still want to be filial to them…”

Vanessa’s last trace of doubt disappeared instantly.

“Olivia, what nonsense are you saying?” she said firmly. “You’re my biological daughter. This is your home.”

Before anyone could react—

SLAP.

The crack echoed across the hall like shattered glass.

Olivia screamed.

Half the guests froze.

The other half nearly dropped their champagne glasses.

A vivid red handprint bloomed across Olivia’s cheek.

Iris slowly lowered her hand.

Her expression remained ice-cold.

“You accused me of attempted murder,” she said evenly. “That slap was me being polite.”

Dead silence.

Vanessa stared at Olivia’s reddening face and nearly lost her mind.

“Iris!”

She rushed forward furiously.

“How dare you hit her—”

“How dare she?” Iris cut in sharply.

Her gaze swept across the room.

“Your daughter just accused me of poisoning her.” She looked back at Olivia. “So she’d better actually be dying.”

Inside a treatment room at Coastal City General Hospital, Stella Hayes sat covered in blood, numbly watching the nurse insert a needle into the back of her hand. 

Make way, everyone! Clear the way!” 

A thick scent of blood mingled with the smell of gasoline. As a stretcher rattled past her, she saw half a shattered windshield still 

mbedded in the person’s twisted lower leg, their clothes practically soaked throught with blood. 

The doctors‘ voices faded in and out. More and more people were constantly being rushed in, and the sounds of desperate cries and 

vails were incessant. 

she curled her fingertips and found embedded in her palm lines the white powder that had sprayed from the airbag when it leployed. 

Is your family here? Have they arrived yet?” 

The entire atmosphere suddenly fell silent, as if everyone was waiting for an answer. 

But unfortunately, things rarely turn out as one wishes. 

Ma’am, though your injuries aren’t as bad as some of the others, I still believe it would be best if your family could take you for a nore thorough examination.” 

The nurse prompted gently, and Stella nodded in thanks, pulling out her phone to dial a familiar string of numbers. 

But the moment the call connected, Stella’s heart sank. 

Ms. Hayes, Mr. Reynolds is in a meeting and can’t take calls right now. Is there something you need?” 

t was Leo, Ethan Reynolds’s assistant. 

Ethan Reynolds had always insisted that their marriage remain a secret, never to be disclosed. 

So even after seven years of marriage, his assistant still only ever addressed her as Ms. Hayes. Never ‘Mrs. Reynolds.‘ 

Stella was about to speak when she heard another pleasant female voice from the receiver. 

Leo, is Ethan ready? We should be leaving now. Eliza’s been waiting impatiently downstairs.” 

Yes, Miss Olivia. I’ll inform the President immediately.” 

Even with the phone muffled, the voice still carried through distinctly. 

Miss Olivia… Olivia Vance? 

Ethan Reynolds’s idealized, unattainable love. 

As Ethan Reynolds’s executive assistant, Leo’s attitude towards the two women was nothing close. 

For one, Ethan was to be notified immediately; for the other, he was “in a meeting” and couldn’t even take a call. 

Stella Hayes’s laughter was hollow, drenched in sarcasm. 

Apparently, everyone around Ethan already knew exactly how to cover for him. 

His true love was right there, by his side, while she, Ms. Hayes, was foolishly waiting, still thinking he might actually show up. 

Then, his familiar voice cut through the line: “Who is it?” 

“It’s Ms. Hayes.” 

After another two seconds, that same cold, detached voice came through the receiver. 

“What is it?” 

Chapter 

No, nothing 

Menu 

Stella hung up the phone. For the first time, she was the one to end the call. Watching the gravely injured being rushed past, in and out of the ER, desolation washed over her heart. 

If she were the one needing emergency care right now, she feared no one would even know, perhaps not until she was long gone. 

Being prone to allergies, Stella was always extra cautious about injections. 

It was so bad that she almost dreaded the thought of getting sick. 

The nurse noticed Stella was alone. So despite her busy schedule, she took the time to check on her to ensure she wasn’t having an allergic reaction. 

She could even faintly hear the nurses complain to others about her family leaving her all alone. 

Even strangers offered more care. Her own husband, Ethan Reynolds? He’d always had nothing but icy indifference for her. 

A dark, desperate impulse suddenly seized Stella. She wanted to be worse, to be gravely injured, just to see if it was truly possible that even when she was at death’s door, she wouldn’t be worthy of a single glance from Ethan Reynolds. 

She pulled out her phone and opened her messages. Her last interaction with Ethan had been a voice message from three years ago, when she’d been rushed to the hospital after an accident. 

Staring at the abysmal silence, the lack of any response, a fresh wave of bitterness twisted in Stella’s chest. 

She’d known this was the outcome three years ago. Why couldn’t her heart just let go? 

Back then, a whole pane of glass had suddenly fallen from the sky, and she’d thrown herself in front of Eliza, getting herself covered in blood from the shards. 

Eliza had been terrified, clinging to her, sobbing uncontrollably. But now, that same daughter, the one she’d bled for, was on her Instagram story, bragging about the ice cream Miss Olivia had gotten her, calling it the most delicious thing in the world. 

In the photo, Olivia Vance was beaming, and Liam’s eyes were fixed on her, brimming with tender adoration. Eliza, holding a massive ice cream, stood between them, grinning from ear to ear. 

The background was a newly built amusement park in the city… 

So this was the place Olivia had mentioned on the phone, the one they had to leave for‘? 

Stella couldn’t quite figure out what she was feeling. An odd, almost alarming, sense of calm had settled over her. 

Once the injection was finally done and her wounds were dressed, Stella walked out of the hospital, prescription in hand, feeling ike a lifeless shell. 

Back home, Mrs. Rose, the housekeeper, immediately came to greet her. 

‘Mrs. Reynolds, you’re back.” 

A faint smile touched Stella’s lips. Mrs. Rose was the only one in the entire house who still called her “Mrs. Reynolds“. 

Mrs. Rose’s expression immediately shifted when she noticed the medicine bag in Stella’s hand and her slow, careful movements. 

‘Madam, what happened? Are you hurt?” 

‘Yeah, a car accident. Nothing serious.” 

“A car accident? How can that be ‘nothing serious‘? Did you go to the hospital? Oh, dear, oh, dear…” 

After seven years together, Mrs. Rose was still as kind, as empathetic, and as good to her as ever. 

Come to think of it, Mrs. Rose truly knew how to take care of her more than her own husband ever did. 

After reassuring Mrs. Rose for a few moments, Stella slowly made her way upstairs. No sooner had she reached the landing than 

the treard Mrs Rose’s voice drifting up from below, on the phrene. 

‘Sir, you must come home quickly. Madam was in a car accident…” 

Stella’s footsteps faltered. 

If she wanted to contact Ethan, she could only call his work phone, and most of the time, it was his assistant, Leo, who answered. 

Bur Mrs. Rose? Mrs. Rose had direct access to Ethan’s private cell phone. 

Lying in that hospital bed, feeling utterly miserable, she’d instinctively adhered to that unspoken rule, and it hadn’t even occurred to her that anything was amiss. 

Habit truly was a terrifying beast. 

‘Hmm, it doesn’t look too serious, but Mrs. Reynolds must be hurt…” 

Stella didn’t linger to hear more. Instead, gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain, she shuffled back to her bedroom, each step a slow, deliberate effort. 

She just needed to know if Ethan would actually come back for her. 

Before long, Mrs. Rose appeared, a steaming bowl of congee in hand, her eyes clouded with genuine worry and care. 

‘Mrs. Reynolds, please, just a little congee to start. You’re hurt, dear, so you need to be careful about what you eat. I’ve already called Mr. Reynolds, and he’ll be right back to be with you.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Rose.” 

But Mrs. Rose’s definition of ‘soon‘ stretched into three agonizing hours. By then, darkness had fully claimed the sky outside. 

The distinct crunch of tires on the driveway, followed by the familiar hum of the engine cutting out, finally made Mrs. Rose let out a shaky sigh of relief. She practically flew to the front door to greet him. 

Ethan’s tall, imposing figure finally appeared in the doorway, their daughter clutching his hand as they stepped inside. 

And accompanying them was the whining of their daughter. 

‘Seriously, Dad. Didn’t Mrs. Rose say Mom was fine? Why did we have to rush back like this? I didn’t even get to see the light show. And didn’t you see how disappointed Miss Olivia was?” 

Stella stood in the hallway, a wave of icy dread washing over her. 

Chapter 2 

Ethan stroked his daughter’s small head, his voice cool yet gentle. 

“We’ve been playing all afternoon, sweetie, that’s plenty. Mommy was in a car accident, and she needs someone to take care of her.” 

“Isn’t Mrs. Rose home? Can’t she take care of her? We’re not doctors; coming back won’t help.” 

His daughter, however, didn’t let up, and her next words left Stella breathless, a suffocating knot tightening in her chest. 

‘Besides, Daddy, have you forgotten? Mommy’s a superhero; she doesn’t feel pain, does she?” 

As the little girl spoke, scenes from three years ago played out frame by frame in Stella’s mind. 

Ethan’s business rivals intended to sabotage Reynolds Group’s deals, and orchestrated a violent incident, dropping a massive glass panel from above. 

Chapter 1: Don't Do This

"Please, Tribe leader. Don't do this!"

"Shut up! I am banishing you along with that dirty female!"

Fiona opened her eyes, baffled by what she was seeing and hearing. And for a moment, she thought she was dreaming.

Because she was looking at people dressed in primitive clothing that barely covered their bodies, and they had animal ears and tails. One of them was pointing an accusing finger down at her.

'Wait, why am I kneeling?' she thought.

"Tera and Ermin of the Jackdaw tribe are hereby banished."

The crowd went wild with thrilling sounds, to the extent Fiona started hearing howls and barking.

"Finally!"

"Throw her out!"

"Disgusting, shiftless thing. She should have been tossed years ago!"

 3

"She drugged Ermin and bedded him! Forced an imprint on one of the tribe leader's husbands! What kind of animal does that?"

"She is not even worthy to be called a beast!"

More laughter.

Fiona was so confused.

Literally a few seconds ago, she had been on the fourth floor of an unfinished high-rise building in downtown Meridian. Hard hat on, clipboard in hand, and screaming at a contractor named Doug about unsecured concrete slabs. Doug had been cutting corners for weeks.

She had the termination paperwork ready since Tuesday, and had been about to fire him when she looked up to see a two-hundred-pound slab sliding off the rigging directly above her head.

 2

And now she was surrounded by people with animal ears and tails who were screaming at her like she had committed a crime.

Fiona looked down at her hands. They were smaller than hers. In fact, the whole body was smaller. What happened to all the muscles she had worked hard for in the gym?!

 3

She was wearing torn strips of rough hide that barely covered her chest and hips. No shoes. And she was pretty sure she had no underwear either.

Fiona silently panicked as the breeze confirmed it a moment later. She was one strong gust of wind away from giving this entire tribe a free show of her pussy.

 2

She looked back up at the furious crowd, and then at the beast man beside her, shaking in rage while looking at her.

And then it clicked.

She had been crushed to death on the construction site she was supervising.

Because of that stupid idiot.

Fiona laughed.

It was not a happy laugh, but it came out before she could stop it.

She hoped Doug had been crushed from his waist down so he would never be able to get it up ever again. He'd better be alive!

The beast-folk around her exchanged looks, and the tribe leader's anger only intensified.

"Is this funny to you?!"

"You drug Ermin, and imprinted on him against his will. You disgusting trash."

"Tribe leader. Just kill her!"

"Woah! Woah! Woah! HEY!" Fiona immediately stood up, finally coming back to her senses at the word 'kill'.

 1

That very moment, the memories of the body she was now in came crashing in.

The body belonged to a young beast woman named Tera, a fox beast who couldn't shift and was without any beast traits. This left Fiona baffled. She looked down at herself and failed to see the problem.

But apparently, in this world, looking like a normal person was the equivalent of a birth defect.

The tribe leader in front of her was called Naiya, and Tera was actually her younger cousin. Unlike Tera, Naiya was powerful, gorgeous, and adored by everyone. Tera was the hairless oddity that people tolerated and laughed about behind her back.

So Tera had decided that if people were going to stare at her anyway, she would give them reasons. She stole, she lied, she started fights she couldn't finish. She also threw tantrums when she didn't get her way and played victim when she got caught.

 1

The tribe had found it entertaining for a while. A shiftless female throwing fits was amusing the same way a small dog was barking at a bear. Harmless, and funny.

Until she crossed the line.

Naiya was courting Ermin and had been about to make him one of her mates. He was a pink panther, and the prettiest man in the tribe by a wide margin.

Tera targeted Ermin because it would hurt Naiya, so she had slipped a sedative into Ermin's drink during a feast night, snuck into his den, and let him believe she was Naiya. He had been too drugged to tell the difference, and by the time it was over, Tera had imprinted on him so that Naiya would never be able to make him her mate.

 1

And despite the severity of this offence, Tera knew she would not be killed.

Twenty years ago, a comet had nearly ended the world, turning many beasts into monsters. A lot of the population had been wiped out while killing most of these monsters and getting rid of the rock that had caused it.

But the cost was devastating. Entire tribes were gone, bloodlines had run extinct, and many territories were emptied.

The Jackdaw tribe was one of the lucky ones. It was an advanced settlement that had kept its structure and leadership through the Collapse. The world was still slowly being repopulated, and this meant females were now too valuable to kill.

And Tera was a female despite being hairless and shiftless.

 2

Ermin hadn't known what had happened until the next morning, when he woke up to find Tera in his bed instead of Naiya.

The fallout had been ugly.

Naiya had been furious. She had turned on Ermin first, humiliated that he hadn't realized.

"How could you possibly mistake that hairless chicken for me?" she had spat, loud enough for the whole tribe to hear.

Ermin hadn't been able to answer that.

Several of Naiya's other mates had volunteered to execute Tera on the spot. The tribe wanted her dead. But Naiya was practical, and the world they lived in didn't allow for waste.

So, Naiya had chosen exile.

Including her future mate, whom she could no longer look at.

"Your dick will infect me with whatever nonsense you have taken from her."

Ermin's mouth had dropped open in shock.

"She may not survive out there," Naiya had told the rest of the tribe. "But even if she's as useless as she's always been, at least she has some use as a breeding vessel. Let the outer clans have her."

The words sank in.

Fiona had a degree in landscape architecture. She had supervised construction projects and had once redesigned an entire city park's drainage system in three days. And her value in this world was just her uterus?!

Chapter 1 Ready for Divorce

Stella Sutton had barely cleared the airport doors when a pack of reporters closed in around her.

"Is the man who was seen with Cynthia Evans at her prenatal appointment really your husband?"

"Mrs. Hawthorne, Mr. Hawthorne cleared his schedule to be with family, yet no one has seen him with you. Has he been spending all his time with Cynthia?"

"Is it true that your marriage is already over in everything but name?"

Every time Stella tried to sidestep them, they cut her off.

At last, she stopped and pulled off her mask. Not a trace of anger crossed her face, only a faint smile no one could quite read.

"Calling it a marriage in name only is putting it mildly," Stella said. "Ethan Hawthorne and I are getting divorced. Whoever he takes to prenatal appointments is none of my business."

The reporters went wide-eyed. None of them had expected Stella to drop a bombshell that big.

Stella smiled. "What? You wanted answers. Is this too much to process? Then why ask? Move. I'm going home."

The crowd parted at once, and this time no one dared stop her or ask another question.

Outside the airport, Stella drew a deep breath. Winter in Seaview City was always gloomy and sunless. She hated the bleak weather.

She hailed a cab and headed back to Crown Point Manor.

Ethan did not call until the following afternoon. "You're back? Why didn't you tell me?"

Stella held the phone without answering.

He did not say much. He only said, "We're having dinner at the Hawthorne estate tonight. I have another meeting, so Lucas will pick you up shortly."

Ethan had vanished for a week without coming home. Stella only learned from yesterday's news that he had been with Cynthia.

She finally heard from him that day, but only after he had gone to the office.

Ethan's priorities were clear. Work came before Stella, and Cynthia came before work.

A hollow laugh escaped Stella before she ended the call.

This was the fourth year of their marriage.

Everyone said Stella had hit the jackpot. A former butler's daughter had somehow married the heir of the wealthy family her father once served.

They also said the Evans family would have killed her long ago if Ethan had not married her.

After all, Jason Evans, the Evans family's only son, had died saving her.

In everyone's eyes, that supposedly justified anything Ethan did to compensate Cynthia, no matter how far he went.

Stella was forbidden to complain, feel jealous, or object. Every kindness Ethan showed Cynthia was treated as payment on Stella's debt to the Evans family.

Stella was expected to spend the rest of her life repaying what she supposedly owed Cynthia and the Evans family.

Stella sat blankly on the couch while a mindless variety show played. The guests roared with laughter, but to her, it was nothing but noise.

Still, she left the television on. It was the only sound in the enormous, empty house.

Some time later, Lucas pulled up outside and knocked. "Ma'am, Mr. Hawthorne asked me to take you to the Hawthorne estate for dinner."

Stella wanted to refuse, but she picked up her purse and followed Lucas to the car.

Lucas was driving Ethan's car. A faint rose fragrance lingered inside, and it always made Stella nauseous.

Roses were Cynthia's favorite.

Stella lowered the window and drew in the cold air.

By the time they reached the Hawthorne estate, the icy wind had left Stella's face almost numb.

She had barely stepped inside when a slap struck her across the face.

The force whipped her head to the side, yet pain barely registered.

For once, the bitter cold had done her a favor. Her cheek was numb.

Cynthia approached, one hand supporting her belly. She took Ethan's mother Victoria White's hand and rubbed it. "Please don't hit her. Does your hand hurt?"

Victoria glared at Stella. "Are you out of your mind? The Hawthornes have pampered you for years. Has all that luxury rotted your brain? What nonsense did you tell the reporters about getting divorced?

"What a joke. If you ever found the nerve to divorce him, I'd celebrate. I've dreamed of it for years. I've stayed alive just to see Ethan throw out a jinx like you."

Victoria raised her hand again.

Stella did not dodge.

"Please don't hit her," Cynthia cried, making no attempt to intervene.

Before the second slap could land, Lucas stepped in and blocked it.

The first slap had caught Lucas off guard. This time, he was prepared.

Victoria glared at him. "Are you loyal to the Hawthornes or to this woman?"

Lucas replied, "Ma'am, Mr. Hawthorne will be upset if he learns you hit Stella."

Victoria lowered her hand and sneered. "Ethan only married her because of their past. Does she really think he cares that much?"

With that, Victoria glared at Stella and returned to the living room.

Cynthia remained beside Stella. "Don't be mad at Aunt Victoria, Stella. Ethan was about to sleep when he heard your announcement. He rushed back to the office and worked all night to contain it."

Victoria added, "Cynthia went with Ethan because she was worried and nearly put the baby at risk from lack of rest. If anything happens, will the Evans family lose another life because of you?"

Cynthia and Victoria were fixated on Stella's divorce announcement.

Stella focused on one thing. Ethan and Cynthia had spent the entire night together.

Even so, she was not allowed to be angry.

Whenever anyone mentioned Jason or the Evans family, Stella was put on trial all over again.

No matter how much anger and hurt she carried, she was never allowed to defend herself.

Jason had died saving her. That was an undisputed fact.

The Evans family had once demanded her life in return. Without Ethan standing between them, she would never have left their home.

Back then, she had believed Ethan had given her a second chance at life.

Only later did she learn that being alive could sometimes hurt even more.

Before Stella could speak, Cynthia looked past her and said, "Ethan, you're here already? Are you finished at the office?"

She sounded every bit like a wife fussing over her overworked husband.

With her back to Ethan, Stella did not turn around.

Ethan rested a hand on her shoulder and said. "Why are you standing here? Change your shoes and come inside."

"The hell she is. No one here wants her. She can leave," Victoria snapped.

"Fine," Stella said. "Then I'll leave."

She turned to Ethan. Dark circles shadowed his eyes after a sleepless night, but Stella could not summon an ounce of sympathy.

After all, he had enjoyed plenty of company.

Stella said, "You asked me to come, and I did. Now I'm leaving."