1945 Pulitzer Winning

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

The day my husband, Caleb Vale, buries his first love, Layla Shaw, he stands in front of me and throws our wedding ring into the sea. For the next 12 years, the breakfasts I bring him go straight into the trash, and the scarf I stay up all night knitting is tossed into the fire and burned to ash. The cruelest moment is when he looks me in the eye and says, "Aurora, if you really want to please me, you might as well go die." But when a mugger comes at me with a knife, Caleb still steps in front of me without a second's hesitation. As he lies dying in my arms, he uses the very last of his strength to force out a few broken words. "Go... I hope I never see you again in my next life." At the funeral, Helena Rogers sobs until she faints. "This is all my fault. I never should've arranged your marriage..." Everyone around us pities him and resents me. They whisper that I'm a jinx and wonder why I'm not the one who died. And honestly, I wonder the same thing. Why not me? After Caleb is lowered into the ground, I climb to the top floor of the building and jump. As I hover on the edge of death, a cold, mechanical voice echoes in my mind. "Binding complete. Wish detected. The system will now send you back 12 years."

When I faint due to my hemophobia after seeing blood on the training grounds, my mate, Alpha Yves Golding, is busy applying medicine to his assistant, Renee Lawson, who has only scraped her skin. After I wake up, the first thing I do is drag my weak and exhausted body to the Elders' Council to request something I never imagined I would ask for—to break my mate bond with Yves. Yves swiftly approves the request, then turns confidently to his Beta and says, "Come on, she's just throwing a tantrum. She's an orphan. Other than staying by my side, she has nowhere else to go. She can't possibly leave me for real. "Besides, aren't there three days left until the Council processes breaking a mate bond? When she comes back regretfully to beg me, I'll withdraw the application. As long as the process isn't finished, she's still mine." Then, Yves uploads a photo on Wolf Net. It features him and Renee standing shoulder-to-shoulder while showing off their muscles in the mirror. They are also gazing at each other with smiles on their faces. The caption reads, "Every bead of sweat deserves to be remembered." Everyone showers him with praise, teasing compliments, and blessings, and every single one stabs into my chest like a dagger. Still, I don't fall apart. I calmly pack my belongings and then pick up my encrypted phone. "Uncle Harrison, it's me. Please arrange a flight back to the Silvermoon pack for me as soon as possible." However, after my departure, Yves is the one who falls apart instead.

Everyone knows Francesco Greco, heir to the largest mafia family in Solerio, is a notorious playboy. Yet when he swears to God that he'll love me for the rest of his life, I choose to believe him. He lives up to his words during the first year of our marriage. The Greco heir, whose presence alone terrorizes others, clings to me like a loyal puppy at home. But by the second year, he starts returning home with one lover after another. Rumors of his scandalous affairs spread, and I become the laughingstock of Solerio. On our eighth anniversary, his 99th lover taunts me in front of everyone at dinner. "Don't sleep in the master bedroom tonight," she says. "Mr. Greco and I are going to have some fun there. Also, change the sheets. I can't stand how dirty your things are." Everyone expects me to break down under such humiliation. Instead, I smile and turn on my heel. Then, I dial Madre Greco's number. "Madre, it's been eight years," I say, my voice steady. "It's time for me to leave."

I waited for my boyfriend for three hours at his birthday party. Sean Ziegler was supposed to show up dressed as the star of night. However, his secret lover, Josie Sullivan, called him to the hospital. She had pretended to sprain her ankle. There, she recorded a video of her and Sean kissing. In the heat of the moment, Sean stood up and pushed her against the door. But he was supposed to be paralyzed. “Sean, why haven’t you told Wendy that your legs are fine now?” “If she knows, she’ll pressure me to marry her. Seriously, who does she think she is? Wendy’s just a free maid. She’s not good enough to be my wife,” Sean said in a muffled voice. After that, he continued to kiss Josie intensely. Wearing the wedding dress I had designed, Josie looked provocatively into the camera. The video then ended with the sounds of them kissing. It turned out that Sean had been lying to me all along. I threw the cake that I made for him into the trash. Then, I texted my mom. [Mom, I’ll go on that blind date.]

I had been hanging around with Mark Anderson for eight years. People in his circle said I had become addicted to loving him.To what extent had I become addicted?I had become addicted to the point where I didn't hesitate to get rid of any woman who got close to him.In the end, Mark sent me to rehab.Others went to rehab for smoking, drinking, or gaming addiction.But I went to rehab for Mark.Later, I did successfully overcome my addiction to him, but he expressed regret over it.

I woke up back in my 27-year-old body. I had twin cubs, and my mate was Ethan, the most powerful Alpha in the Northwest. He was always at the top of the Wolf Council's rankings. Alpha Weekly even named him "Number One Ideal Mate on the Continent." Even the Royal Pack wanted to marry their princess to him. Everyone in the pack said I was lucky. But the first thing I did? I took the sacred contract for dissolving our mate bond and delivered it to his old flame myself. I pushed the contract in front of Isabella and said calmly, "I'm going to ask the Moon Goddess to break our bond. Ethan's yours. The cubs, too." Isabella stared at me, shocked. She couldn't believe the person who'd been Luna for six years would just give it all up. I just added quietly, "Since they all like your scent better, I'll get out of your way. Just get Ethan to put his Alpha mark on the contract. Once the bond-breaking ceremony is over, I'll leave this territory." This time, I wasn't going to make the same mistakes. I wouldn't be the Luna everyone ignored anymore.

The day my mafia boss husband, Zann Lima, went bankrupt, a car accident crippled both his legs. He was paralyzed from the waist down. I inherited his astronomical debt, and with it, the responsibility to care for him for the rest of his life. For an entire year, I was beaten by debt collectors until I vomited blood, yet I couldn’t bear to buy painkillers. I collapsed from exhaustion working eight jobs a day, yet I couldn’t bear to take a day off. Every penny I earned went toward keeping Zann alive. I believed this was love’s steadfast devotion, until one night, when I was delivering drinks at a club. I stumbled upon the man who was supposed to be sitting and waiting for me at home in his wheelchair, now clinking glasses with his guests, who all revered him as Don!

Three years into our marriage, Rylan Shaw brings another woman home. "Maeve, you should learn from the younger ladies. Stop acting like a block of wood all the time." With a calm resolve, I shatter our wedding photo and hand him the divorce papers I've long prepared. "Let's get divorced, Rylan. I'll step aside for her," I declare. His friends insist that without him, I'll starve on the streets. Rylan believes the same. "Once she's suffered enough out there, she'll realize how lucky she was to be Mrs. Shaw." But a week passes, then a month—and I never return. That's when Rylan begins to grow uneasy. Panic and restless nights consume him. One evening, drunk and desperate, he pounds on the door of my new apartment. "Maeve, if it's money you want, I'll give it all to you…" The door swings open to reveal an unfamiliar man—bare-chested, pajama pants hanging low, fresh scratches streaking his abdomen. Jonah Archer arches a brow, dissatisfaction flickering in his eyes as he asks, "Mr. Shaw, what madness brings you to my wife's door in the middle of the night?"

After an unexpected miscarriage, I left my ward in search of Victor. I saw him inside the doctor’s office. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I overheard their conversation. “Give my wife a hysterectomy. I don’t need her to bear me any children.” Victor Gayes pulled the woman beside him to face the doctor, his hand rubbing her belly. “The baby inside her belly will be my only child. You must protect it no matter what.” I knew the woman very well. She was Victor’s secretary of three years, Rachel Aniston. Victor reminded the doctor again and again, sternly and anxiously. “You have to give her the best medicine. I won’t allow anything to go wrong with this baby!” I pulled my hand back, all my blood running cold. To think Victor would do something so heartless to me, just after I lost our baby. To think my faith in him would become a dagger, stabbed straight into my heart. If love had another face, it would probably be letting these feelings go with a smile.