

A little over a month pregnant, I was happily looking forward to my wedding—until my fiance teamed up with my parents and brothers to put me on trial at the Court of Justice. They fabricated charge after charge, hoping to have me executed in the name of the law. If the judge found me guilty, I would be sentenced to death on the spot. Once I was dead, my corneas would be transplanted into my adopted sister, and everything I owned—my assets and insurance—would be claimed by them. Faced with my fiance’s betrayal and my family’s treachery, I fought back. I demanded the judge use the latest medical technology to extract my memories and project them on the big screen, letting the judge and hundreds of public jurors decide my fate. Just as everyone was smugly certain of their victory, the truth revealed by my memories moved the entire courtroom to tears.

Luna Ashford is a sharp modern forensic scientist who wakes up one day as the princess consort of the seventh prince of the Solmire Empire—wife to Jothan Barnett, a prince the entire court whispers about:brutal, cursed, a man who buries his wives. Her system gives her a clean exit: earn enough intimacy with Jothan and solve the wrongful case shadowing his past, and she goes home. Simple enough. Except the monster the rumors promised turns out to be something else entirely, and the case runs deeper and darker than any file she's ever worked. She came to investigate a prince. She didn't plan to understand him.

Just as I was on the verge of miscarriage from a fall, my husband—New York's most powerful Don—was throwing a lavish birthday gala for his childhood sweetheart, Camilla. I called, begging for help, but he dismissed it as a cheap stunt and coldly hung up. As his wife, I bore the honor of being the Donna—yet no one knew I couldn't even scrape together a thousand dollars. All because, to "train" me into a proper Donna, he had handed total control of my life and finances straight to Camilla. Desperate, I begged anyone who would listen. But by the time I finally scraped the money together, my baby's heartbeat stopped forever. After waking up in that hospital bed, I dragged myself back to his penthouse to pack my bags. That was when I stumbled upon the auction receipt for Camilla's birthday gift. A ten-million-dollar mansion in Beverly Hills, plus endless custom jewelry. Just then, his deep, raspy voice drifted from the study next door. He was on a call with his underbosses. "Boss, was Scarlett really at the hospital begging you for a grand?" Cassius scoffed. "Scarlett is my Donna. She has my men guarding her 24/7. How could anything possibly happen to her? She's just pulling a cheap stunt for attention. Camilla is right. I've spoiled Scarlett too much lately. If Camilla isn't strict with her, how is an orphan going to earn the Famiglia's respect? She'll understand my good intentions later." Tears slipped down my face. Fuck his rules. Fuck his Donna. The second the doctor called my baby's time of death, I decided I was out of his life—never to return.

Due to her unique profession as a forensic doctor, Vivian was looked down upon by her boyfriend. After breaking up with the scumbag boyfriend, she went to a bar to drown her sorrows, only to accidentally sleep with the scumbag's uncle! Vivian said, "I was a forensic doctor, and others said I smelled like corpses." Wayne replied, "Exactly, I was a businessman, and people said I smelled like money. We matched in our 'odors,' and neither of us needed to disdain the other. How about we just get a marriage certificate?"

Adrian Vale was the Don the whole city feared, and yet he spent three years chasing me, a girl who waited tables. Then, the night before our wedding, my best friend Nina Ashford and I were taken at the same time. With the cold muzzle of a gun against my forehead, I cried out, my voice shaking, “Let Nina go! She’s innocent!” The kidnapper laughed like I’d told a joke. “Innocent? She’s worth a hell of a lot more than you.” My whole body went rigid. The next second he leaned down to my ear, his smile pure malice. “You really think Adrian’s marrying you because he loves you?” “The day you tried on your wedding dress, he was fucking Nina on your bed.” “And that black ring, the one that stands for the Don’s power? He put it on Nina’s finger a long time ago.” I shook my head, over and over, refusing to believe it. But the kidnapper had already stopped looking at me. He dialed Adrian’s number. “Mr. Vale, you need to make a choice. Your bride, or Miss Ashford. Only one of them walks out of here alive.” “Which one do you choose?” In that instant, I forgot how to breathe. On the other end, Adrian was quiet for only a few seconds. Then he said it, perfectly calm. “Let Nina go.”

I was at the vineyard with my mother-in-law Teresa Moretti to go over the books when a stack of bills hit me square in the face. "How much can a tax audit even make you?" The blonde woman pointed at the scattered cash, her smile dripping with contempt. "Take the money and get lost. Don't ruin my tasting party." I let out a cold laugh. "What's your name? And who gave you the authority to run this vineyard?" "Monica Moretti." Monica picked at her nails, smirking. "The vineyard was a gift from my husband Luca. So naturally, he's the one who authorized it." I turned to look at Teresa. This vineyard—Luca had bought it behind the family's back just a week ago. Luca is Teresa's only son. And my husband of seven years.

Alex Carter, a prominent Chicago trial lawyer, has been married to Ivy Morgan for six years. When intern Leah Foster joins his firm, Alex mentors her personally—they work late together, message privately, and Leah comes and goes freely from their apartment. Though Ivy voices concerns, Alex insists the relationship is purely professional. After Ivy publicly warns Leah, Leah lures her to a parking garage with a fake distress message and hires Mason Reed, a violent ex-con, to attack her. Ivy, seriously assaulted, files a civil suit. What destroys her faith in the marriage is Alex's response: instead of believing his wife, he becomes Leah's attorney—and wins. The day Alex celebrates his victory, Ivy arrives with a suitcase and two documents: a divorce filing, and medical records showing the pregnancy she had never told him about had stopped developing—and that she had signed the consent forms and undergone the procedure alone. That night he was preparing Leah's defense. On the same day, he won his case and lost his child and his wife. The case soon unravels: Mason demands his payment, and deleted emails, secret videos, and voice recordings between Leah and Mason prove her goal was never to scare Ivy but to destroy her. Alex turns the evidence over to police and publicly admits his judgment was wrong. Leah is imprisoned; Mason faces charges; Alex loses his partnership and his license is disciplined. His boundary-crossing messages with Leah also surface, forcing him to admit he had enjoyed her admiration and dependence, allowing her to believe she could one day replace Ivy. Ivy rebuilds through therapy and painting, finalizes the divorce, and leaves Chicago for an overseas opportunity. Alex finally accepts she had told the truth all along—but by then, it no longer matters. What truly destroyed the marriage was never Leah alone, but the moment Ivy needed her husband's belief most, and Alex chose the other side.
![[ENG DUB] My Wife, the Forensic Expert](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Due to her unique profession as a forensic doctor, Vivian was looked down upon by her boyfriend. After breaking up with the scumbag boyfriend, she went to a bar to drown her sorrows, only to accidentally sleep with the scumbag's uncle! Vivian said, "I was a forensic doctor, and others said I smelled like corpses." Wayne replied, "Exactly, I was a businessman, and people said I smelled like money. We matched in our 'odors,' and neither of us needed to disdain the other. How about we just get a marriage certificate?"

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

Two modern best friends Jill Shaw and Helen Stone transmigrate into the bodies of sisters sent as peace offerings from an enemy kingdom — officially brides, unofficially suspected spies. The cold-faced warrior Prince Joseph Smith gets the elder Jill, the cunning and manipulative Prince Ben Smith gets the younger Helen, and both brothers arrive at their weddings fully prepared to eliminate the threats disguised as their wives.What neither calculated: the “elite spy” Prince Joseph watches so obsessively turns out to be a pure academic who finds knowledge intoxicating and intrigue utterly baffling.Meanwhile the “naive romantic” Prince Ben thinks he can read and control is already several moves ahead of him, playing people like a board game. Two princes who came to outmaneuver their wives. Two women who didn’t come here to lose. The misunderstandings are spectacular. The reversals are better.