

I'm kidnapped with a bomb set to explode in 10 minutes. I call my forensic boyfriend, but he scolds me for lying out of jealousy and chooses to save his childhood friend's cat instead. I text him my final goodbye before the bomb goes off.

Upon discovering she had only three months to live, Charlene finally realized she had been used by those around her and resolved to live for herself at last. So, she confronted her colleagues, exposing the dark side of her workplace, completely cut ties with her parents, who favored her younger brother, and ended her relationship with her unfaithful fiancé. In her final days, she agreed to Elbert's pursuit, making him her last boyfriend...

In her past life, Monica Woodard is the eldest daughter of the Woodard family, Lexford City's most prominent household. Lost due to her mother's mistake, she grows up in an orphanage until her biological father finds her. Desperate to win the love of her parents and two brothers,Monica endures countless provocations and schemes from the adopted daughter, Alyvia Woodard. Rather than earning her family's affection, her patience only allows Alyvia to poison their relationships further. The family, prioritizing the adopted daughter's feelings, neglects and scorns their biological daughter. Ultimately,through Alyvia's machinations, Monica dies tragically.

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa. Vincent Cassio stood up. He adjusted a fold of the diamond-encrusted train on Sofia with a casual flick of his wrist. “Her premiere next week needs a statement piece. She’s borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and stop making a scene.” His tone was flat, final. Under the crystal chandeliers, Sofia admired herself in the full-length mirror, a triumphant smile on her lips. I looked at my reflection in the same mirror, wearing jeans and a soaked trench coat. I looked like a lost tourist. Suddenly, the entire past year of planning felt like a sick joke. I didn’t yell. I just felt cold. Numb. I slipped the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. It hit the glass coffee table with a sharp, final click. “You’re right, Vincent. I don’t need this wedding dress. This wedding… I don’t need it either.”