
![[ENG DUB] Day One Back, No Mercy](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
In her past life, Rosie was used as a luck tool. Her parents drained her fortune, doted on Willa, and cast her aside. She died on the streets, mourned only by Brad and Queenie, who were dragged down with her. Back to life again, she runs into Brad's arms with a smile. "Dad, need a daughter? One who brings luck and fortune."

In her past life, Rosie was used as a luck tool. Her parents drained her fortune, doted on Willa, and cast her aside. She died on the streets, mourned only by Brad and Queenie, who were dragged down with her. Back to life again, she runs into Brad's arms with a smile. "Dad, need a daughter? One who brings luck and fortune."
![[ENG DUB] Living Again: Never a Stepdad This Time](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
In his past life, Harrison Cowan abandoned his own daughter for a widow, raising her two sons instead. In his old age, when he fell ill, his adopted sons refused to even pay a mere hundred thousand for his surgery.Given a second chance at life, Harrison is determined to make amends. No longer willing to play the role of a stepfather, he vows to work hard, make money, and devote his life to raising his biological daughter, living only for her from now on!

Sophie, a beggar girl with a dying mother, is caught stealing food, but her capture reveals a Firemark on her forehead, proof of royal blood. Guard Harvey is stunned and rushes to report it.The emperor is shocked: "She's my daughter?" But his stepdaughter Lucy is furious, publicly tormenting Sophie and her mom. Worse, Lucy's mother, Consort Winson, orders the two girls to swap faces to secure her daughter's position.Sophie, now locked away and bled as the "princess," watches the impostor call Consort Winson "Mother." Sophie's real mother breaks down: "Why is my daughter calling someone else 'Mother'?"

When the Lynch family finally finds Fred after twenty years apart, they expect a meek puppet they can control. They don't realize he's come back from hell as a man bent on revenge. His adopted brother sees him as a rival, his sisters sneer at him as beneath them, and his parents try to chain him with guilt. He only smiles coldly and lays his plans in secret. "I'll reclaim everything bit by bit, beginning with your valued business empire."

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

Olivia abandons her billionaire family for Rory, but when childbirth becomes a life-or-death crisis, his true colors emerge. The arrival of Rory's “best friend” Rebecca reveals a truth more dangerous than money. Will Olivia's father save her and the baby before it's too late?

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.