

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.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.

My three-year-old son, Ethan, strayed into rogue territory and was brutally murdered. When the news reached me, I blacked out. I woke up to my Alpha mate, Alexander, gripping my hand tightly. His voice was hoarse with grief. "Ivy, I swear I will avenge Ethan. I will tear those damned rogues apart with my own claws." But three days later, at the funeral, I overheard a conversation between Alexander and his Beta, Marcus. "Alpha, I don't understand," Marcus sounded confused. "Why didn't you let the pack doctor save Ethan? He was only critically injured. If we had acted in time..." "It was Lucas. He accidentally pushed Ethan toward the rogue territory," Alexander’s voice was laced with pain. "Lucas was just a child who didn't know the rogue borders. He didn’t mean it." "If I let the doctor save Ethan, the boy would have told everyone the truth. Sophia would go to jail, and the Council would sentence Lucas to death. I couldn't let that happen." Alexander continued. "But what about the pack's heir?" Marcus asked, worried. "It doesn't matter," Alexander’s tone returned to a chilling calm. "Once Ivy calms down, I'll bring Lucas back. We’ll say he’s an adopted orphan and have the next Alpha raised by Ivy herself." So, the person who killed my son was his illegitimate child with his mistress. My son could have been saved, but Alexander sacrificed my Ethan for his bastard. I dialed a number I hadn't called in five years. "Dad, it's me. Ivy." "I’ve changed my mind," my voice was cold and steady. "I’m coming back to inherit the Royal Pack." "And what about the Moonstone Pack?" "I want the Moonstone Pack erased from existence."

Maisie Kent is betrayed by her boyfriend, Jerry Ford, and Gigi Smith, signing a contract that costs her life. Reborn at the moment of signing, she pretends to comply while secretly swapping the contract. When Gigi tries the same trick in public, the harm rebounds instantly. Unscathed, Maisie watches coldly—on the deadly contract now stands a name no one dares to provoke.

In her past life, Vivian Walker forced Isaac Lowe to marry her, only to live in loneliness and regret. On her deathbed, deceived by Isaac's first love, Gigi Smith, she died believing he had never cared for her. But when Vivian opens her eyes again, she's back forty years in the past—right at the moment she threw away her future for Isaac. This time, she doesn't think twice. With a deep breath, she tears up the withdrawal form, choosing herself and the life she deserves.

Thomas Powers loses a bet and starts dating Winnie Nelson, a working-class woman, pretending to be a poor young man dying of cancer. Winnie believes him completely. Even while pregnant, she works grueling jobs and even donates her bone marrow to raise money for his “surgery”. Devastated by the deception, Winnie gets into a car accident. Thomas believes Winnie is dead and is consumed by pain and guilt. But Winnie survives and gives birth to their daughter, Bailey Nelson, raising her alone. Five years later, Thomas discovers Bailey’s existence and resolves to make amends for his wrongs.

Once a feared underworld lord, Eddie chose a quiet life. Four years later, she returns—Nora Olson, a stunning CEO, holding a child—and shatters his calm world: ‘She’s yours. Marry me, and be her father.’ A flash marriage. Family betrayal. Corporate war. And just when she needs saving most, the richest man alive calls her new husband… son!

Once a feared underworld lord, Eddie chose a quiet life. Four years later, she returns—Nora Olson, a stunning CEO, holding a child—and shatters his calm world: ‘She’s yours. Marry me, and be her father.’ A flash marriage. Family betrayal. Corporate war. And just when she needs saving most, the richest man alive calls her new husband… son!