

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

Ivy Shaw knew from the very beginning that the marriage certificate she and Noah Grant held was fake. But during their five years together, Noah had given her so much tenderness that she mistakenly believed she had finally exchanged sincerity for sincerity. It was not until she woke up once in the middle of a coma that she overheard Noah talking to his private doctor: the strange illness she had suffered every month all these years had been caused by Noah drugging her and drawing her blood, and he had stayed by her side only to use her blood to treat her half-sister, Chloe. Another hospital soon confirmed that prolonged blood loss and medication had caused multiple organ failure, and that she had at most a month left to live. Ivy no longer argued, and no longer waited for Noah to turn back. She relocated her mother’s grave, arranged her own burial plot and funeral, and even designated her father Richard and Noah as her pallbearers. But until the very last day of her life, Noah still chose Chloe again and again, and even ordered someone to destroy Ivy’s mother’s grave. In the end, Ivy died alone at home. Only after receiving the funeral home’s notification did Noah discover that Chloe had never been ill, that Ivy was the girl who had climbed over the wall to comfort him in childhood, and that the coma and blood draws he himself had caused had killed the one who truly loved him.

When I was diagnosed with terminal Inner Wolf Decay, a System found me. It told me that if I could win the wholehearted romantic or familial love of just one out of four specific werewolves, I would get a healthy body and live. But for five years, I failed to win over a single one. Because they all fell for the same Omega—the fragile, hypocritical Chloe. Just because she framed me, claiming I ordered rogues to attack her, my targets glared at me with nothing but absolute disgust. My biological brother, Caleb, told me, "I don't have a sister as vicious as you." My pack healer, Julian, didn't believe I suffered from depression. He glared at me with revulsion and said, "Chloe is the one who got hurt. Stop playing the victim." My childhood friend, Victor, stared at me coldly. "You're so toxic. I really wish you'd just die." Later, just as they wished, my mission failed, and my inner wolf was actually going to die. But then, they were the ones crying and begging me not to go.

For seven years, Kelsey Dale ran a business empire from the shadows and called herself a housewife. She gave up her name, her position, and eventually her health to prop up a husband who needed her more than he admitted, including nursing him through a near-fatal illness with everything she had. On the day their infant son turns one hundred days old, Gaige Hamilton walks through the door with his mistress and their child, backed by his parents, and offers Kelsey a choice: accept them under her roof and keep managing the household, or leave without her son. Seven years. That is what they thought they were owed.
![[ENG DUB] Seven Years and a Closed Door](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
For seven years, Kelsey Dale ran a business empire from the shadows and called herself a housewife. She gave up her name, her position, and eventually her health to prop up a husband who needed her more than he admitted, including nursing him through a near-fatal illness with everything she had. On the day their infant son turns one hundred days old, Gaige Hamilton walks through the door with his mistress and their child, backed by his parents, and offers Kelsey a choice: accept them under her roof and keep managing the household, or leave without her son. Seven years. That is what they thought they were owed.

Deaf and mute for seven years, Emelie Byrne's entire world is Marvin Barlow, until she watches him sign away his own future for his first love. Heartbroken, she agrees to an arranged marriage, only to end up married to a doctor, Kyle Morgan, a man who feels like a stranger to her. But he turns out to be the one who ran into a burning building to save her seven years ago. By the time Marvin finally realizes that the person who quietly supported him all those years, the only one who understood him when he couldn't hear or speak, was Emelie all along, it's already too late. This time, she isn't standing in for anyone. She's only her own light.

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

Amy was the luna of her pack, growing a pup in her stomach when the alpha betrayed her and took her life, and that of her pup. When she woke up six years earlier she decided to change everything. Revenge would be something she focused on.

Emily Porter, an ordinary housewife, finds herself shunned by her mother-in-law for giving birth to a daughter instead of a son. Her husband, Joe Baker, driven by greed for a hefty insurance payout, conspires with his lover to murder Emily. In a calculated move, Joe stages a car accident that leaves Emily in a vegetative state. In a shocking turn of events, he goes as far as to bury his comatose wife alive, only to rush off to marry his mistress moments later. But fate has a twist in store, as Emily awakens, ready to seek justice and reclaim her life.