

Eleanor has guarded her twin secret for years, avoiding college sweetheart Theodore. Fate reunites them as she desperately seeks funds for her daughter's medical care and Theodore reigns as LA's wealthiest entrepreneur. Faced with their intertwined past, will Eleanor finally share her truth?

On Christmas Day, my parents decided to add my sister Chloe's name to the family trust. As the lawyer prepared the documents, he glanced at me. "And this young lady? Should she be included as well?" My mother waved a hand dismissively. "No need. She's just a foster child." Ever since Chloe was brought back home, I—their biological daughter—had become the outsider. All because Chloe insisted she was the only daughter in the family. If anyone so much as mentioned that I was blood-related, she'd have a PTSD episode—screaming, crying, the whole breakdown. Eventually, everyone just accepted it: "The Haper family only has one real daughter. The other one's a foster kid." At first, I tried to correct them. I was their real daughter too. But my parents would go pale and snap at me: "Chloe already struggles with insecurity. It's such a small thing—do you really have to push her over the edge?" Then came the day I got my acceptance letter from Stanford. A background investigator showed up at our door. "Ms. Kent, what is Kate's relationship to you?" My mother's voice was breezy. "Oh, she's just a foster child we took in." Right there, I froze. After the investigator left, I took matters into my own hands. I filed for independent status and booked a one-way ticket to California. Since they refused to claim me as their daughter, then in seven days, I'd stop being the extra person in their house.

Nora Whitman had been in love with New York lawyer Elliott Mercer for seven years, but on their wedding day she discovered that he had kept a flirtatious voice message from his young assistant, Tessa. Confronted with Nora’s ultimatum—“If you leave now, don’t come back to marry me”—Elliott still rushed off to comfort Tessa, who claimed she was having a panic attack. Nora stopped waiting and publicly called off the wedding. Soon after, Elliott’s father was hospitalized from the shock. At the hospital, Nora discovered she was pregnant, only to see Elliott continue protecting Tessa. She refused to reconcile, packed her things, and left, but amid the relentless emotional and physical trauma, she lost the baby. It was only after Nora completely refused to forgive him that Elliott admitted he had not been without a choice: he enjoyed being needed by Tessa, and he had been certain Nora would always be there waiting for him. Nora moved to London and resumed the career she had once set aside for him, growing from a crisis PR consultant into a strategist who could hold her own. Three years later, they met again at an old café in New York. Elliott finally admitted that he had taken her love for granted, treating it as something that would never disappear. But Nora no longer needed this belated regret. She said goodbye to the past and finally understood that a complete life is not about waiting for someone to choose you, but about no longer giving up yourself for love.

Everyone knows I am Shen Yunche’s most doted-upon girlfriend. I am beautiful, docile, obedient, and sensible. As long as the money is right, I can tolerate all of Shen Yunche’s capricious demands—even when he repeatedly casts me aside like trash or leaves me to be mocked, all for the sake of his "white moonlight." Everyone assumes I will cling to him for a lifetime, impossible to drive away. Yet, no one knows that once this relationship runs its course, I will never look back.

Rescued by Gabriel three years prior, Jennifer Gibson marries him, only to face betrayal from his family. Jennifer, aiding Gabriel in secret, realizes their deceit. Three years later, she awakens to reclaim her status as the Wealthiest Heiress.

Two years into her marriage with Allen Howell, Isabel Lawson has a dream. Tomorrow, her husband will meet his soulmate. They’ll share a passionate night together, and from that moment on, Allen will shower this woman with everything—bidding millions on jewelry at auctions, gifting her the designer clothes and luxury bags that once belonged to Isabel. In the dream, Isabel desperately fights to save her crumbling marriage, using every trick against the mistress, only to be abandoned by her husband and die miserably in a psychiatric hospital. The first thing Isabel does when she wakes up is to slap her husband three times, and the plan begins…

Through seven years of secret marriage, I was nothing more than an obedient, tirelessly devoted assistant to Don Nathan Harrison. He walked the red carpet at high-profile galas with Susan Ferell, his business partner’s daughter. He booked an entire castle just to host an exclusive rose-themed banquet for her and spent millions at an auction to buy her a crown-jewel diamond necklace once owned by royalty. Their names dominated the headlines daily, dubbed by the Siciamira media as the ultimate power couple of high society. For the first time, I didn't make a scene or shed a single tear. Even when I found that royal diamond necklace intended for Susan tucked away in Nathan’s suit pocket, I simply pulled it out and quietly set it on the vanity. Nathan convinced himself that I had finally grown sensible and understood the overwhelming sacrifices he was making for our future. What he didn't know was that the world's top global syndicate had just tracked me down, crowning me as the sole heir to a century-old empire. And the signed divorce papers were already stamped, processed, and on their way from the courthouse straight to his front door.

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.