

Before he died, Kara Austin's father left a will stipulating that she could only inherit the company after she had given birth to a child as an adult. Through her best friend's scheming, Kara Austin mistakenly believed Troy Lytton was a male escort, had a one-night stand with him, and became pregnant. Five years later, Kara Austin returned to her home country with her five children to reclaim the company that rightfully belonged to her, and it was then that she encountered Troy Lytton once again.

Yoel wrongly believes his mother,Zina,caused his father's death and drove his girlfriend to suicide, so he creates the Memory Helmet to get revenge. But when he reads her memories, he discovers she carried the gambling debts alone,supported his business, and even donated bone marrow to save him. Overwhelmed with guilt, Yoel realizes the truth. When his mother falls gravely ill because of him, he finally awakens—but suffers a mental breakdown. Through it all, she never abandons him, and the family finally finds warmth and reconciliation.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.