

Once an ace fighter pilot, Katelyn gave it all up for love—only to be betrayed. Mid-flight, she catches her husband cheating moments before it triggers a crash. Trapped outside the cockpit, she dies knowing she could’ve saved them all. Reborn one year earlier, Katelyn chooses differently: divorces him, takes back her wings, and rises again as Top Gun.

Five years ago, a misunderstanding caused Cecilia and Lambert's divorce. Now back in the country, she works at a hospital and runs into her ex-husband, ending up in his bed. Since then, Lambert has been pushing hard to get back into her life. Divorced, but still sharing a bed.

Harper Allen is born in Prosperity Village, where women possess a special constitution that produces multiple babies per pregnancy.Because they have too many children, the village is desperately poor. Harper is chosen by the villagers to work in the city and bring hope to everyone—and she just happens to run into the Lauren family patriarch offering a fortune for a grandchild.Perfect timing! With the old man’s arrangement, Harper marries Spencer Lauren, the aloof CEO cursed by his family bloodline of “Any woman who bears a Pierce heir will die.” But the prideful CEO refuses. What to do? No job is too difficult for a hardworking woman—she has plenty of strength and methods! That very night, she ties up the struggling Spencer and tosses him into the bridal chamber...

Regular guy Ethan unlocks an overpowered SSS-rank talent that lets him steal other people's talents when the Doomsday Game hits, only to get betrayed and killed by his girlfriend Cecilia and rival Tristan, who steal his talent for themselves. Reborn to day 1 of the game, he uses his future knowledge to save the doomed Rachel, takes Cecilia's fire talent for himself, and sets out for revenge.The two clash over a mind-stabilizing artifact, so Tristan frames him as a "talent-stealing devil" and sets a death trap in the final dungeon.

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.