

Five years into my marriage, I was shopping with my husband, Theodore Sterling, when I suddenly heard his voice. [How much longer is she going to take? This is driving me crazy.] I froze. Theodore sat where he had been, head down, scrolling through his phone. His mouth never moved, yet I had clearly heard his voice. "Honey, does this look good on me?" Theodore looked up and gave me the briefest glance. "They all look good on you." [God, that's ugly. She spends all day at home cooking. What does she need so many clothes for?] The two voices rang out almost at the same time. I lowered my eyes and put the dress back. "We won't be taking it."

I’ve always felt like Travis Chancer was forced to marry me. Every time we were intimate at night, he’d rather use his hand to get me off than actually have sex with me. I got more and more disappointed and decided to divorce him. But the night before I printed the papers, I heard him on the balcony talking to his buddies. “Bro, I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’re obviously dying for it. Why won’t you touch her? The perfect woman is right there. It must feel amazing.” “Women can’t stand being ignored. If you keep bottling it up, she’ll eventually run off with another man, and you’ll regret it.” He took a quiet sip of whiskey. “But her skin is so delicate, and her waist is so slim… she’s so sensitive. What if I lose control and scare her? “She’s my woman. I have to be careful. If she wants to find comfort elsewhere, she can. As long as she’s still willing to come home, I’ll keep spoiling her.” They snorted. “Don’t act like a saint, man. If you’ve got the guts, stop secretly posting on Reddit.” Late that night, I quietly opened Travis’s browser history. A full hundred entries. The pinned post read: “I finally married the girl I’ve loved for years, but I have a very high sex drive. How can I make her enjoy it without leaving psychological scars?”…

We had been dating for ten years before my boyfriend, Shawn Jepson, agreed to marry me. When the wedding photographer asked us to pose a few kissing shots, Shawn claimed he had germophobia and walked out on me. I awkwardly apologized to the team. Taxis were a rare commodity during blizzards, so I trudged through the snow to get home. To my dismay, I stumbled upon Shawn tongue-deep into his crush’s throat in what was supposed to be our marital home. “Just say the word, Casey, and I’ll leave Jessica.” Later, word went around that Shawn searched the world for his ex-fiancee, begging her to return.
![[ENG DUB] Never Forgiving, Natalie Remarries](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
After Hector brands her barren and shameful, Natalie dials a number that changes everything and becomes the wife of the city's real ruler.When Hector begs at her wedding, she moves away from him and into Ethan's embrace. Ethan announces, ice-cold, "Just so you know, she's my wife."

On my wedding day, my sister, Luna, came back home out of the blue. My parents, my brother, and my fiance all abandoned me, just to pick her up at the airport. Luna posted a group photo on Facebook, bragging about how many people loved her. I called over and over, but every single call was ignored. The only one who picked up was my fiance, and all he said was, “Stop throwing a fit. We can always redo the wedding.” They turned my long-awaited wedding into a joke. Everyone stared and whispered about me. I calmly wrapped everything up by myself. I opened my journal and wrote down a new number — ninety-nine. This was the ninety-ninth time they’d let me down. I won’t hold out for their love anymore. I filled out my study-abroad application and packed my bags. They all thought I’d finally calmed down. Little did they know, I was leaving for good.

My husband and I were the two people who hated each other most in this world. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. And I hated him because that his heart remained occupied by another woman. For eight years of marriage, the words we spoke to each other most often were not love, nor duty, but curses. Yet on the day the city fell, everything changed, the enemy banners were already visible beyond the inner gate. He rode ahead and took the road, putting his body between the enemy and my escape. “Live,” he said quietly. Then he raised his blade and did not look back. Arrows came like rain. As they tore into him, he turned his head once—only once— After that, his body held the road,and nothing passed. “If there is another life…may Your Highness grant me the mercy to belong to her.” That night, with the city in ruins and the people either dead or fleeing, I climbed the highest tower of the palace. I leapt. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the king. “The northern kingdoms require a royal bride,” I said. “I will go.” This lifetime, I will be the one to cross the border. In my previous life, he died believing he had failed her. This time, I will not allow that regret to exist. I will take the marriage meant for her. I will carry the crown meant to exile her. I will walk into a future she should never have to endure. Let her stay. Let him protect her. Let him live his life believing he has finally kept his promise.

My husband and I were the two people who hated each other most in this world. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. And I hated him because that his heart remained occupied by another woman. For eight years of marriage, the words we spoke to each other most often were not love, nor duty, but curses. Yet on the day the city fell, everything changed, the enemy banners were already visible beyond the inner gate. He rode ahead and took the road, putting his body between the enemy and my escape. “Live,” he said quietly. Then he raised his blade and did not look back. Arrows came like rain. As they tore into him, he turned his head once—only once— After that, his body held the road,and nothing passed. “If there is another life…may Your Highness grant me the mercy to belong to her.” That night, with the city in ruins and the people either dead or fleeing, I climbed the highest tower of the palace. I leapt. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the king. “The northern kingdoms require a royal bride,” I said. “I will go.” This lifetime, I will be the one to cross the border. In my previous life, he died believing he had failed her. This time, I will not allow that regret to exist. I will take the marriage meant for her. I will carry the crown meant to exile her. I will walk into a future she should never have to endure. Let her stay. Let him protect her. Let him live his life believing he has finally kept his promise.

On my wedding day, my fiance's first love appeared at the wedding ceremony wearing the exact same haute couture gown as mine. I watched them stand together at the entrance, greeting the guests as if they were the bride and groom. Maintaining a calm expression, I complimented them, saying they looked like the perfect couple—beauty and brains, a match made in heaven. She burst into tears and fled the scene. He, however, didn't hesitate to humiliate me in front of everyone, accusing me of being petty and narrow-minded. When the wedding banquet was over, he left for what was supposed to be our honeymoon—with her by his side. I didn't argue or cause a scene. Instead, I quietly booked an appointment for an abortion.

According to the Winslow family's rules that are passed down for generations, anyone who wants to marry into the family must draw a tarot card. But I have drawn 99 times, and every single card is a bad one. Before the 100th draw, I see Clara Winslow replace all the Lovers cards in the deck. She says, "No matter how many times he tries, he will only draw the worst cards." I finally realize that she does not love me at all. That is fine because I no longer want to marry her either. I toss the cards aside and call my parents. "I accept the arranged marriage with the Shaws."

In 2026 she runs empires. In 1993 she wakes up disfigured, limping, robbed of her dowry, despised by her own son, and thrown out of her home by a husband and his mistress who between them nearly finish the job permanently. The body she inherits belongs to Mya Lane, a woman destroyed by everyone who was supposed to protect her. What they don't account for is who is inside it now. She carries a smartphone from thirty years in the future and the instincts of someone who has outmaneuvered boardrooms full of sharks. The scars heal faster than anyone expects. The money comes next. When her husband, his mistress, her mother-in-law, and her brainwashed son come at her one by one, she meets every single one of them with everything she has.She doesn't leave until every debt is settled and the divorce papers are signed on her terms.