

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.

When I was diagnosed with terminal Inner Wolf Decay, a System found me. It told me that if I could win the wholehearted romantic or familial love of just one out of four specific werewolves, I would get a healthy body and live. But for five years, I failed to win over a single one. Because they all fell for the same Omega—the fragile, hypocritical Chloe. Just because she framed me, claiming I ordered rogues to attack her, my targets glared at me with nothing but absolute disgust. My biological brother, Caleb, told me, "I don't have a sister as vicious as you." My pack healer, Julian, didn't believe I suffered from depression. He glared at me with revulsion and said, "Chloe is the one who got hurt. Stop playing the victim." My childhood friend, Victor, stared at me coldly. "You're so toxic. I really wish you'd just die." Later, just as they wished, my mission failed, and my inner wolf was actually going to die. But then, they were the ones crying and begging me not to go.

In his past life, musician Zack Shelley was framed by his adopted brother Zed Shelley and fiancée Ruby Lewis, left disabled after seven days trapped in a mudslide, and died betrayed by his own sisters. Reborn on the day of the disaster, he is determined to survive and reclaim his stolen life. Despite Zed's efforts to sabotage rescue attempts, Zack endures six grueling days and escapes. He exposes Zed's plagiarism at a pivotal piano competition, but his sisters, Flora and Luna, turn against him even more. Heartbroken, he severs ties with his family. With the help of business titan Whitney Lynd, he defeats Flora in a public contest and unmasks Zed at a high-society banquet. By the time his sisters overhear the truth, it's too late—Zack has already moved on, ready to start a new life abroad, leaving his past behind for good.

Before we submitted our college applications, the popular girl in our class, the billionaire’s daughter, suddenly said she could get all of us into Harvard or Yale. “My parents donated several buildings to those schools. Getting you all admitted is nothing.” Most of my classmates’ college entrance exam scores were still a long way from those schools, but they believed her. They gave up submitting their own applications and counted on her to pull strings so they could get into college. In my last life, I realized her promise was unreliable. I immediately urged them not to give up on their applications, to keep a backup plan, and I called their parents one by one. But that infuriated the popular girl. She mocked me for being poor and said I did not understand how the upper class worked. She claimed I had ruined everyone’s future. My boyfriend also snapped at me for being jealous. “You’re just jealous that Lissy’s family is rich. You can’t stand the thought of all of us going to Harvard or Yale. So what if you have good grades? You could work your whole life and still never catch up to what her family built over three generations.” For the sake of our three years as classmates, I did not argue with them. But before the deadline, when I found out they still had not submitted their applications, I called the police and exposed the popular girl’s fake identity. The popular girl was condemned by everyone. In despair, she jumped into a river and killed herself. My classmates all said she deserved it and thanked me for saving their futures. But at our class farewell dinner, my boyfriend poisoned my drink, and the entire class watched coldly as I writhed in pain. “At worst, we would have lost our chance at college. Lissy lost her life!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the popular girl claimed she could pull strings for us.

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.

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.

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.

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.