

The night before his wedding, while decorating the venue, Scott Brawley receives a fire alarm call from their new house. Rushing over, he discovers his fiancee Alison Ritchie in bed with her stepbrother. Alison shamelessly claims it's just "sibling affection" that won't affect tomorrow's wedding. Reflecting on the past,Scott realizes how many times Alison has hurt him for her stepbrother's sake. He always thought marriage would fix things, but seeing the ambiguous kiss marks on Alison's body,Scott finally wakes up. He agrees to his grandfather's arrangement. Tomorrow, he'll marry the arranged bride instead.

In her past life, Cici was killed by her husband, Yates. However, she miraculously reincarnated and returned to the day she first met Yates's family. This time, Cici decisively chose Yates' uncle, Benson. Despite rumors claiming that Benson was sterile, Cici found herself pregnant with triplets and was spoiled by Benson!

I'm about to get married under the witness of the Goddess of the Moon. However, Carl Erickson, my partner of ten years, doesn't know it yet. Carl has recently hired a new assistant—Ivy Keating. Everyone in the wolf pack knows something amorous is going on between them; they frequently "discuss work" until the wee hours of the night. A celebration that's supposed to be for our anniversary turns into Ivy's birthday celebration. Carl orders a ten-layer mango cream cake for the celebration—it's Ivy's favorite. They get cream everywhere, but they've forgotten I'm seriously allergic to mangoes. A regular mango is as lethal to me as wolf venom is. I'm taken away by an ambulance to be rescued, and I'm alone when I wake up. Carl is still at the party, celebrating Ivy's birthday. My wolf growls unhappily, and my love for Carl dies. It's then that I agree to the marriage my family has arranged for me. I'm going to marry a true Alpha.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

After three years in a coma, Vera Larson wakes to betrayal: her husband Trevor Irwin and secretary Giselle Bell have seized Larson Group and tormented her daughter, Yuna Larson. Armed with evidence, she returns,exposing their schemes at a banquet, bringing the villains to justice,reclaiming her company and daughter’s happiness, and even establishing a foundation to help children in need.

When Emily Harper is sold out by her family to the highest bidder, she escapes and has a one-night stand with billionaire Charles Sinclair. She gives birth to triplets, but loses one to her evil stepsister Vivian, who claims her eldest child is stillborn. Escaping with her remaining twins, little did Emily expect her twins to be superheroes – one is a super genius, and the other is a star fighter with super strength! Years later, Emily and her twins come back to town, only to find that Vivian is engaged to Charles and raising his son. But this boy, with his superhuman sixth sense, senses that Emily is his true mother! As the three superpowered kids bring their parents together and help to defeat their evil families, will Emily and Charles find love again?

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.

Skyler Reid spends three years being the kind of husband most people only read about. He cooks, he tends the house, he keeps the light on when his wife Ruby works late, he asks for nothing in return. She is a celebrated lawyer with a demanding career and he builds his entire life around making sure she never has to worry about coming home. It works, until it doesn't. When Ruby's first love Brandon Lowe resurfaces with a divorce case that needs handling,everything shifts. She pours herself into his affairs without question, and when Brandon frames Skyler with a flimsy accusation, she doesn't pause to ask for his side. She just turns on him. Skyler looks at the woman he has quietly loved and served for three years and realizes she has never once looked back at him the same way. He stops fighting for something that was never quite his and lets go. Only then, when the warmth is gone and the light is finally off, does Ruby understand what she had in her hands and chose not to hold.

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."