

My sister Aurora and I mated to Alpha twins. Five months into my pregnancy, I was attacked by a group of rogue wolves. I reached my Alpha mate Alexander for help through mind-link. But he ignored me for nine times. The rogues circled me, biting at my arms and legs, drawing blood with each attack. Pain ripped through my body. With one last desperate cry, I reached out through our bond a tenth time. This time, Alexander's cold voice cut through my mind: "Have you acted enough? My sister Vicky has been kidnapped. Don't bother me anymore." Victoria was Alexander and Ethan’s stepsister, the one that they truly loved. With nothing to stop them now, the rogue wolves pounced on me. One tore open my stomach with his fangs, and I watched in horror as they ripped my unborn child to pieces. When I was almost died, Aurora found me and fought against the rogues. But there were too many. Soon Aurora was bitten and bleeding heavily beside me. She mind-linked her mate Ethan for help, but all she received was: "I'm looking for Vicky. Don't bother me." Aurora had no choice but to shift and drag me onto her wolf's back. She raced down the mountain, but a sudden thunderstorm caused a mudslide, trapping us. Fortunately, the border patrol guards found us, and both Aurora and I barely survived. When I woke up in the pack hospital, my first thought was simple: sever the mate bond.

Jackson Tiller and Emily Gateley break down the chaos of filming the viral show "Uncle Richard Is My Baby Daddy," sharing behind-the-scenes stories, on-set chemistry, and the wild ride of acting for vertical TV. Raw, funny, and unfiltered—this is where drama meets real talk.

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."