

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

To get a divorce from Dante Conti, I volunteered to walk away with nothing—even our three-year-old son. Seeing that I had deliberately changed back into the old clothes I wore before marriage, Dante froze for a moment, then sneered, "So? You don't even want Nico, the heir you fought so hard to give birth to?" "Careful. Play your part too long, and you won't be able to recover the scene," he warned. I pushed the signed agreement toward him. "Don't worry. This isn't acting." Dante shot me a puzzled look before signing his name. "So obedient? Fine. I'll be magnanimous and let you see Nico from time to time." He set down the pen, his gaze appraising me. "And if you regret it… come to me now, and maybe—just maybe—we could remarry—" I cut him off, standing and walking away without a word. He had thought I married him for the Mafia's power, that's why I had given him an heir to inherit his family. But once he knows I'm dead, there will be no more misunderstandings.

Before Grandpa passed, he left behind two things: a billion-dollar fortune and three matches. He said, "Each of you gets to pick one. Renee, you're the oldest, so you go first." I did not hesitate for even a second and chose the fortune. That left my adopted sister, Vera Gallagher, with nothing but three matches. What none of us could have known was that those three matches were no ordinary matches. Each one, when lit, could make any wish come true. Vera resented our parents for favoring me, so she immediately cursed them a terrible death. Sure enough, Dad suddenly suffered a heart attack and died on the spot, and Mom was hit by a speeding semi-truck on her way to the hospital. I grabbed a kitchen knife and went straight to Vera to settle the score. I growled, "Didn't I tell you that once you turned 18, I would split Grandpa's inheritance with you? Our parents opened their home to you and gave you everything I had growing up. All these years, you ate the same food and wore the same clothes as I did. How could you betray them?!" Vera's face was filled with greed. "Since they chose to adopt me, they should have thrown you away and given me all the good things instead! I don't want your handouts. Once you're all dead, the money will be mine anyway!" With that, Vera sneered and lit the second match. "I wish Renee would be trafficked to some remote backwoods town, forced to carry and deliver eight babies at once, and die from complications!" I was horrified. I emptied my savings and hired over 1000 bodyguards to protect me day and night, making sure there was not a single weak spot. However, one night, every single bodyguard suddenly passed out at the same time, and I was kidnapped and sold deep into the mountains. I was tortured, abused, and forced to endure things no person should ever have to survive. I did not know how much time had passed before I finally swallowed my last breath in agony and humiliation. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn on the very da

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

Aria Vale loves her idol Noah Rivers so completely that his fictional death feels like a personal injustice. Then she blinks and finds herself inside the novel, in a world where the cities are overrun and the story is already in motion. Reinventing herself as a mysterious talent manager, she finds the boy before anyone else does and helps him become exactly who he was supposed to be, rewriting the ending she couldn't accept. Her phone knows what's coming, which helps. What she doesn't account for is how quickly depending on each other becomes something neither of them has a word for.

I have just been discharged after leg surgery when Victor Clark, my wife's former colleague who resents her for taking his position, drags me up to the roof and stabs me repeatedly. My wife, Melissa Lane, is the captain of the rescue unit, yet she is busy mobilizing everyone to stop her depressed first love, Ethan Hayes, from setting his rental apartment on fire. I don't call her to save me. In my previous life, I begged her for help. She abandoned Ethan and rushed to rescue me. In the end, I survived while Ethan died in the blaze. Melissa never blamed me. She said that Ethan got what he deserved and even promised me a surprise for my birthday a week later. But on my birthday, she drugged me, tied me to a bed, and drove a knife into me again and again. "You and Victor set me up that day, didn't you? Those stab wounds aren't even serious! You were never going to die! Since you like getting stabbed so much, I'll make it real for you!" When I open my eyes, I am back to the day Victor took me hostage. This time, I let Melissa go save her first love.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

.Every April Fools' Day, my boyfriend joined his childhood friend in the same cruel prank, pretending to propose to me. Last year, I slipped the ring onto my finger, my heart full of hope. Suddenly, the mechanism snapped tight. Pain shot through my hand, and I cried out. He apologized afterward and promised that, this year, the proposal would be real. As such, I arrived carefully dressed, believing him. Instead, I was met with a face full of cake. He reached out gently, wiping the cream from my face as if it were nothing more than a harmless joke. However, this time, I took a step back. After six disappointments, I chose to walk away. So why was it that, in the end, he was the one consumed by regret?

.Every April Fools' Day, my boyfriend joined his childhood friend in the same cruel prank, pretending to propose to me. Last year, I slipped the ring onto my finger, my heart full of hope. Suddenly, the mechanism snapped tight. Pain shot through my hand, and I cried out. He apologized afterward and promised that, this year, the proposal would be real. As such, I arrived carefully dressed, believing him. Instead, I was met with a face full of cake. He reached out gently, wiping the cream from my face as if it were nothing more than a harmless joke. However, this time, I took a step back. After six disappointments, I chose to walk away. So why was it that, in the end, he was the one consumed by regret?