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While the criminal was brutally killing me, my dad, the head of the criminal investigation division, and my mom, the chief forensic pathologist, were attending my sister Lily Lambert’s match. In a bid for revenge, the criminal, who had once been captured by my dad, cut out my tongue and used my phone to call him. My dad only said one thing before hanging up. "No matter what’s going on, Lily’s match is the top priority today!" The criminal sneered, "Seems I’ve kidnapped the wrong person. I thought they would love their biological daughter more!" At the crime scene, my parents were shocked by the brutal state of the body and condemned the cruelty of the killer. However, they did not realize that the horrifically mutilated corpse was their own daughter.

"For ten long years, Cynthia had loved Ethan Luciano in silence. On the night he won the national championship, he finally pulled her into his arms: “I’ll marry you the moment we graduate.” The next morning. What she heard instead was Ethan’s cocky laugh echoing among his teammates: “She was so fucking eager… legs wrapped around me the whole time, telling me she loved me. She’s a good warm-up though. Looks innocent but takes it like a pro. I’m gonna use her a few more times until I get with Sylvia.” In that moment, Cynthia’s world shattered. The boy she had loved for ten years had never loved her back. She was never his future — only his practice."

For ten long years, Cynthia had loved Ethan Luciano in silence. On the night he won the national championship, he finally pulled her into his arms: “I’ll marry you the moment we graduate.” The next morning. What she heard instead was Ethan’s cocky laugh echoing among his teammates: “She was so fucking eager… legs wrapped around me the whole time, telling me she loved me. She’s a good warm-up though. Looks innocent but takes it like a pro. I’m gonna use her a few more times until I get with Sylvia.” In that moment, Cynthia’s world shattered. The boy she had loved for ten years had never loved her back. She was never his future — only his practice.

When I opened my eyes, my sister Serena Shaw was kneeling in front of me, sobbing with a fruit knife pressed near her wrist. “Nora, I swear I didn’t mean it. I had too much to drink. I don’t even know how Lucas and I…” I almost laughed. Because I had seen this scene before. In my last life, Serena cried like a victim after sleeping with my fiancé, Lucas Arden. Everyone comforted her. Lucas married her to save her reputation. And I was pushed into a marriage with Graham West, Serena’s abandoned fiancé. Before the wedding, Lucas showed me my name tattooed on his wrist and promised he would only love me. I believed him. I wasted five years beside a husband who wanted my sister, waiting for a man who had married her. Then Serena died. I thought Lucas would finally come back to me. Instead, I found him at the funeral home, holding her photograph like he had lost the love of his life. “She was my wife,” he told me. “Let it go, Nora.” At my birthday party, Lucas and Graham fought over Serena on the rooftop. One had married her. One had never stopped wanting her. While they fought over her, I was shoved into traffic and died under the headlights. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the beginning. This time, I thought I was the only one who remembered. I was wrong. Lucas remembered. Graham remembered. And even with a second chance, both of them still chose Serena. This time, I would not be traded, chosen, or discarded. This time, I would build something none of them could take from me.

My younger sister, Sophie Sawyer, got pregnant before marriage, gave birth to a baby boy in a small clinic, and then disappeared. The doctor used the address she left behind to find my family and handed the child to me. My parents knelt and begged me to raise him, and that was how I, an unmarried young woman, struggled through life with a child on my hip. When I finally managed to raise him, Sophie came back, standing beside a big-shot boss dripping in gold. She held her son and cried, accusing me of being jealous of her, stealing her child, and tearing them apart. My nephew cut ties with me without hesitation, choosing her over me. My parents kicked me out of the house. The neighbors all condemned me. In despair, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Sophie gave birth.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

My fated Alpha wanted to indulge his mistress Vivian as Luna for a while. So he pretended he'd lost our connection and wouldn't even admit I was his Luna. Walking past the study, I heard Vivian's sickly sweet voice: "Darling, if I'm acting Luna, can you mark me every night too? But... won't Sophia get suspicious? I mean, you two have been mates for five years." "What's she going to do? She can't leave the pack, and she definitely can't leave me," Ethan scoffed. "Sophia? That idiot. I told her I lost the connection, and she actually believed we didn't have a bond anymore. Even if she found out the truth, she'd just quietly hand over the Luna title and go back to being a healer. The only Luna in my heart is you, sweetheart." I stopped in my tracks. I didn't call him out. A sharp pain shot through me as our mate bond weakened. I turned and left. Let them think their little plan was perfect. They'd find out soon enough what a big surprise this "idiot" had in store for them.

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

My foster sister Sophia, the last purebred white wolf in Grell village, was raped and tortured to death by an unknow rogue wolf. Her suicide note contained only one sentence: "Lina saw his face." From that day on, I became the pack's greatest sinner. Because I knew who the killer was, but I kept silent for five years. Until my foster brother Damien, the most powerful Alpha in North America, returned. He brought back the Soul Vision Device and forcibly extracted memories from my werewolf soul. All the werewolves who had the Soul Vision Device used on them either died or went insane. My werewolf was repeatedly tortured in the device, but Damien suppressed the pain in his eyes and roared, "When I find the truth, I'll send you and the murderer to hell together." But when they finally discovered the truth, Damien went mad.

I had been married for eight years when I inherited a fortune worth hundreds of millions that my grandfather left to me and my mafia boss husband. However, just as the lawyer was finalizing the transfer, we discovered my marriage certificate was fake. That meant the entire inheritance could only go to me. “Ms. Rivers, according to the system, you were divorced a year ago. Your husband, Zayn Levine, is legally married to… Whitney Sanders. According to the papers, you're single. In other words, Mr. Levine has no right to claim the inheritance.” Whitney, the woman Zayn had once loved before she went abroad, the one he never forgot. I stared at the lawyer’s message, unable to accept it. All of Zayn’s affection and tenderness over the years had been nothing but a lie. I had planned to tell him on our anniversary that after eight long years of marriage, I was pregnant. It was the miracle we had both been waiting for. Yet it seemed like he had never really been looking forward to it at all. As I gently rested my hand on my belly, I told myself that even if my twins grew up without a father, they would be just fine. In this place built on nothing but lies, the only thing left for me to do was run away.

In the Corvona underworld, there is one unspoken rule. When a Don keeps a new woman by his side for three consecutive months, the Donna must personally remove the signet ring symbolizing her power and place it on the new woman's finger before the entire family. When my husband, Luca, the Don of the Bellini family, announced he would take Mia alone on a three-month business trip, the entire Corvona underworld waited for me to have a meltdown. I had been with Luca Bellini for seven years. I followed him everywhere, refusing to leave his side. I would even wake up in the middle of the night to touch him, needing to know he was there to feel secure. They were all aware of my clinginess and were betting I would never let go. But when Mia extended her hand to me, her voice dripping with saccharine, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly removed the signet ring engraved with the family crest and slid it onto her ring finger. Luca, lounging in the leather chair at the head of the table, swirled the whiskey in his glass, satisfaction gleaming in his cold blue eyes. "Elara, you've finally learned your place." I lowered my gaze to my bare finger, saying nothing in return. What Luca didn't know was that a month ago, I had recovered all seven years of my lost memories. I wasn't some street orphan at all, but the long-lost Principessa of the Rossi family, the most powerful of the Old World families. In three days, my brother's armed convoy would roll into Corvona to take me home.

When my mind-link request had been ignored by my parents for the twentieth time, I went to the Werewolf Council, clutching the report on silver dust corrosion in my hand. “Hello. I’d like to renounce my pack identity—effective immediately.” Ten minutes later, my parents burst in, dragging my adoptive younger sister, Elsa, with them, panic written all over their faces. The door burst open with a bang, and my Beta father charged in like a storm. His fangs bared, claws twitching. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat craving attention! Stop this pathetic act. You’re an embarrassment to a Beta’s name!” My mother, a forensic specialist for the pack, immediately snatched the report from my hand. After a brief glance, she let out a cold sneer. “You faked this report just to get our attention? You’ve been a liar since you were a pup.” Elsa clung to both of them, tears in her eyes as she sobbed, “I’m sorry, Jenifer. It’s my fault for holding the shifting ritual. But please... don’t lie to our parents just to make them feel guilty!” Blood was still pouring from my nose, but I wiped it away calmly and stood tall before the werewolf councilors once more. “I haven’t had a real family for a long time. Please—remove all my personal records from the pack. I just don’t want my funeral—scheduled for three days from now—to be delayed.”

My husband, Cesare Ferrante, the most feared Don of the Ferrante family, had always hated children. Yet everything changed the moment my stepsister, Bianca Moretti, moved in next door with her six-month-old baby. Suddenly, my husband became obsessed with that child. He personally fed the baby formula, sang lullabies, and carried the baby everywhere he went. Every day, he came home exhausted at dawn, yet his face glowed with joy, as if that baby occupied his entire soul. I became invisible to him. Three days ago, someone forced my car off the road, and I crashed into the median. Blood streamed down my forehead, and my vision swam. I called Cesare 55 times. He did not answer a single call. Instead, he posted a photo of the baby on his social media. [My little angel smiled today!] I had had enough. Tonight at the family banquet, every member of the famiglia was seated around the table. I raised my final toast, then set down my glass. "I want a divorce." They all froze. "Are you insane?" My parents' voices rose in unison. Cesare grabbed my wrist, disbelief written across his face. "Giulia, you want to divorce me just because I was busy taking care of the baby and didn't answer your calls? You're actually jealous of a six-month-old child?" I did not meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the glaring kiss mark behind his ear. "Since you love that child so much," I said calmly, "I'll make it easy for you. Go be that child's father."

.On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband Don had booked me a termination surgery instead of a postpartum care package. I thought he had placed the wrong order and was about to tease him, but Vincenzo spoke flatly. "I didn't book it wrong. I need to come clean with you about something." "I've been keeping another woman. She's a good girl. She doesn't want a title or to take your place as Donna." "But she got pregnant recently. I've already made her suffer enough. I can't let her child suffer too. I have to give the child the Moretti family name." I froze on the exam table, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Then why did you abort my child?" He wiped the ultrasound gel off my belly and smiled. "I just want you to adopt Giuliana's child. I'm having yours terminated because I'm afraid you'll play favorites and treat her kid differently." He handed me the consent form, calm and composed. "I promise you will always be Donna. No one will ever take your place." I gave him a long, hard look, then was wheeled into the operating room. "Never mind." "Vincenzo Moretti, you're going to regret this every single day for the rest of your life." He didn't know it, but I was the only woman in the world who could ever give him a child.

"The Don of the Falcieri family was assassinated by a rival family, leaving behind his widowed wife, Livia. His younger brother, my husband Caius, took his place as Don. With the title came a duty: to secure the Falcieri bloodline by putting a child in his brother's widow. ""Alessia's been barren for years. It falls to Livia to do what she couldn't. The Falcieri family cannot be without an heir."" The Madre's voice dripped with scorn. Caius held me close, whispering promises. ""As soon as Livia is pregnant, I swear I'll never touch her again."" ""Alessia, you're the only one I love."" Three months, and he hasn't set foot in our bedroom. After he ignored me in front of everyone, choosing Livia time and time again, I finally left. I took what was mine and left one thing behind: a DNA test. It was my final gift to Caius."

When my appendix bursts, my parents, my brother, and even my fiancé are all too busy celebrating my sister's birthday. I'm outside the operating room, frantically calling every family member I can think of to sign the consent form, but every call is either ignored or hung up on. After hanging up on me, my fiancé, Joel Graham, texts back. "Sophie, stop being dramatic. It's Yvette's 18th birthday today. Whatever it is can wait until after the party." I quietly set my phone down and sign the consent form myself. It's the ninety-ninth time they've chosen Yvette Norton, my sister, over me. This time, I choose not to care. I'll stop letting their favoritism hurt me. Instead, I'll do everything they ask of me without complaint. They'll all think I've finally learned to be obedient, and they'll never realize that I'm preparing to leave them for good.

Fifteen years ago, I casually helped a homeless kid who couldn’t afford a football. I handed him three hundred dollars and, half-joking, asked for 1% of his future company as “founder’s shares.” I just wanted to give him a push to chase his dream. Fifteen years later, the football club I built is on the verge of collapse. The three children I raised with my own hands team up to steal my company, drain my accounts, and grind me into the dirt. Players are demanding unpaid wages, my wife is dying of a terminal illness, and my most trusted friend forces me to my knees. Just to save my employees and my family, I swallow my pride and give up everything. Right when everyone’s waiting for me to finally break— A fleet of luxury cars from a thousand-billion-dollar empire rolls up to my door. That same scrawny, homeless boy who once had nothing… has come back.