

In a world overrun by spirits, the strongest Wraith King, Draven Burke is betrayed and killed. Ten years later, a fragment of his soul is reborn in 8-year-old Rodley Graham, the younger brother of his former love, Sadie Graham. Everyone sees him as a useless nobody. Now, he must survive family oppression, fend off enemies, and protect his sister while reclaiming his lost power.

Thomas Powers loses a bet and starts dating Winnie Nelson, a working-class woman, pretending to be a poor young man dying of cancer. Winnie believes him completely. Even while pregnant, she works grueling jobs and even donates her bone marrow to raise money for his “surgery”. Devastated by the deception, Winnie gets into a car accident. Thomas believes Winnie is dead and is consumed by pain and guilt. But Winnie survives and gives birth to their daughter, Bailey Nelson, raising her alone. Five years later, Thomas discovers Bailey’s existence and resolves to make amends for his wrongs.

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

Housewife Lila endured betrayal, miscarriage, and attempted murder all in one night. After miraculously surviving, she transformed into Mira Harper, the daughter of a billionaire. With her five brothers backing her, she embarks on her path to revenge.

Mike Bert, disciple of the Arcane Exorcist Order, was dispatched down the mountain by his master's order to search for the lost sect-suppressing artifact, the Exorcist's Seal. Penniless, he set up a street stall for fortune-telling, where he inadvertently saved Tess Baker, a female CEO possessing a pure dark physique, thus becoming entangled in urban conflicts. Facing Eden Pater, the wealthy young CEO coveting the Baker Group, and the Dark Warlock, an evil exorcist also seeking the Exorcist's Seal, Mike used Arcane Arts to break evil curses and Truth Spell to expose the truth. Joining forces with Renee Palmer of the Supernatural Investigations Agency and Lucy Pope, an exorcism-obsessed fangirl, he gradually pushed back against the evil forces. During his journey to protect the beauty and hunt for the treasure, he discovered that clues pointed toward the south, while the ultimate boss, Lester Watt, was secretly laying out his scheme. The true crisis had only just begun.

While they slice me apart, I desperately call my brother, Nathan Slade. He finally picks up as my consciousness starts to slip and answers in an annoyed voice, "What now?" "Nathan, help—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off. "Can't you ever go a day without drama? Gemma's graduation is at the end of the month. Miss it, and I swear I'll kill you!" Then, he hangs up without a second thought. The agonizing pain swallows me whole, and my eyes close for good, tears still trailing down my cheeks. Well, good news, Nathan… You won't have to kill me because I'm already dead.

May Song died trying to protect her best friend. In her past life, she exposed the affair between Susan Smith's husband and goddaughter, only for Susan to turn on her instead, and May paid for the truth with her life.Given a second chance, May isn't here to warn anyone. This time, she lets it play out and makes sure Susan opens the door herself.

The doctor said I only had three days left to live. Acute liver failure. My only hope was an experimental clinical trial. It was extremely risky, but had the faintest sliver of a chance to survive. But my husband, David, gave the last available spot... to my adopted sister, Emma, also my daughter’s godmother. Her condition was still in its early stages. He said it was the "right decision," because she “deserved to live more.” I signed the papers to forgo treatment and took the high-dose painkillers prescribed by the doctor. The cost? My organs would shut down, and I would die. When I handed over the jewelry company I’d poured my heart into, along with all my designs, to Emma, my parents praised me, saying, “Now that’s what a good big sister should do.” When I agreed to divorce David so he could marry Emma, he said, “You’ve finally learned to be understanding.” When I told my daughter to call Emma ‘Mom,’ she clapped her hands and said, “Emma is such a gentle and kind mother!” When I gave all my assets to Emma, everyone in the family thought it was only natural. No one noticed anything was wrong with me. I’m just curious. Will they still be able to smile when they find out I'm 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.

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.