1945 Pulitzer Winning

Alexander witnessed with his own eyes how Felix, the Alpha of the Blackclaw Pack, killed his parents. Swearing vengeance, he never forgot the little girl from the pack who had once saved him. When he finally overthrew the tyrant and seized power, he unleashed all his hatred on Melodie, Felix’s illegitimate daughter. Yet, only as she lay dying in despair did he realize—she was the very girl who had rescued him long ago.

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."

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?"

Seven years ago, it was love at first sight when I met Lucas Yates, who was still a nameless thug at the time. For him, I chose to leave my wealthy family. After seven years of dating, he throws me a grand wedding the day he finally becomes the head of Devil's Advocate, a mafia organization. On the day of our wedding, his childhood friend, Yelena Jackman, crashes the venue. She confesses her love for Lucas, but he rejects her without any hesitation, vowing he will only ever love me in this life. Just as we're exchanging rings, Lucas' enemies show up to cause trouble. When he sees the gun pointing at me, he lunges forward to protect me without a second thought. Yelena, who should have run, takes three bullets while protecting Lucas and falls into a coma due to severe blood loss. Overwhelmed by guilt, Lucas sends her to the best hospital in the world. I have the same blood type as Yelena, so in the attempt to save her life, I donate so much blood that I go into shock. Guilt leaves me with sleepless nights. Every day, I pray she'll wake up. I'm even willing to look after her for the rest of my life if I have to. Lucas keeps comforting me, saying that I don't need to feel so guilty, as Yelena did all of it of her own volition. He says he'll take up the responsibility of making it up to her. I'm extremely grateful to Yelena for saving Lucas and allowing me to have such a wonderful husband. However, on the day of our third wedding anniversary, I receive a mysterious message. "Lucille, you shameless homewrecker! I'm his lawfully wedded wife! If you know what's good for you, you'd better scram and go as far away as you can. If you don't believe me, you can always head to City Hall to see just who is registered as Lucas' lawful wife!"

"Chloe, when you were younger, our family arranged a marriage for you. Now that you're almost recovered from your illness, would you be willing to return to Kingston City and marry?" "If you still don't agree, I'll talk to your father and cancel the engagement." In the dimly lit room, Chloe could only hear silence. Just as the person on the other end of the line thought they would not be able to convince her, she suddenly spoke up. "I'm willing to go back and get married." Her mom, Felicia, froze, clearly surprised. "You... you agree?" Chloe's tone was calm. "I agree, but I still need a little time to wrap things up in Marina City. I'll be back within two weeks. Mom, please go ahead and start preparing for the wedding." After a few more words, Chloe hung up the phone.

I was dying from my fear of heights, but my husband, Don Vincent, was busy with his assistant, savoring the latest coffee flown in from Hawaii that morning. "You're a grown woman, Bella. What's the big deal? You're stuck on a roof, figure it out." Then he hung up on me. I collapsed onto the hot tar of the roof, my body shaking uncontrollably before everything went black. It was two hours before building security found me. When I got home, I asked Vincent for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, his patience worn thin, looking at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Over a cup of coffee? I told you, the heights are all in your head. You’re perfectly safe now. Stop making a scene alright? What's this nonsense about a divorce? I have more important things to deal with. Calm yourself down." I stared at his back as he left, tears already streaming down my face. Something important? Did he really think I couldn't hear his assistant, Sophia, murmuring in the background? Did he think I didn't know he took her to the last family gathering? I had loved Vincent for three years. Everyone knew he was the center of my world. They all thought an orphan like me could never leave him. But now, all the love I had was eclipsed by a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was done. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years. "Uncle, book me a flight to Seattle. I'm ready to leave Vincent."

For four years I was his secretary, and for four years I warmed his bed. I knew everything, from his family business to the secrets he whispered to me at night. But to him, I was nothing more than a toy he could summon whenever he pleased. The moment his first love, Sofia Costa, flew back into the country, he humiliated me without a second thought. He kissed her in a Sicilian church, abandoned me on a rain-soaked road with a gash ten inches long on my calf, and later dismissed me with a cold, cutting line. He said I was someone unimportant, someone he could simply ignore. She waved the tulip plush he'd given her in front of me. "I'm the only one he loves. You were just a stand-in." While I rebuilt my life in Chicago and finally found some peace, this ruthless Mafia don knelt outside my door, eyes red with emotion. "Elena, come back to me." I kicked his hand away with a smile. "Your so-called devotion disgusts me."

On the day I was in heat, my childhood sweetheart stood me up. He only sent me a voice message, which said, “Willow, what do you mean you’re in heat? You’re just desperate for a man. Have some self-respect. Stop calling me!” Just as my fever spiked, pushing me to the edge of delirium, spectators watching my story flooded my vision with comments. [Sweetie, there are plenty of fish in the sea! Don’t be sad!] [Honey, look who’s walking in front of you. It’s Douglas Simus, the university heartthrob. He has the whole V-line and abs package, and he’s still a pure virgin boy!] Who? A V-line and abs? He should probably be able to satisfy me then. I struggled to open my eyes and saw a handsome man appear. Not bad. He smelled clean. I stopped him. “Do you want to hook up with me?”

I loved Alpha Lucien Grey with all my heart. From the moment I first saw him, I was drawn to him. However, I always knew the one Lucien loved was someone else. Her name was Summer White. I thought I’d be like one of those tragic side characters in romance stories—forever on the sidelines, watching the man I loved build a life with another woman. However, everything changed three years ago when Summer ran away on the night of the marking ceremony, saying she wasn’t ready to be claimed. Lucien had to make a decision and announced he would find a new partner. So, I stepped forward. Wearing a dress that didn’t quite fit, my hands trembling, I stood in for Summer. That day, Lucien and I formed a bond as mates. For the past three years, Lucien had treated me with warmth and kindness. He was gentle and thoughtful. He took care of me in every way. However, just over a month ago, Summer came back to our pack. On the night of our anniversary, she got drunk and called Lucien in tears, sobbing that she regretted everything. Lucien’s hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped his phone, but he didn’t hang up. He just stood there, torn. When his eyes met mine, full of confusion and pain, I took his hand—still trembling—and said softly, “Go to her.” The moment he left, I filed the mate-bond termination papers at City Hall, requesting to break the bond. After all, these years of stolen happiness were never really mine to keep. It was time for me to leave, too.

With only an hour left until the concert began, every trending topic across the internet was dominated by a single headline. [Breaking: Rising Star Tiffany Burgess to Propose to Her Manager After Ten Years of Romance, Leaving Fans in Awe.] This proposal was not just a personal milestone; it was the centerpiece of our company's most ambitious PR campaign of the year and the culmination of a love story between Tiffany and me. Then, in the fire escape, I bumped into Tiffany, dressed in her wedding gown, locked in a passionate kiss with a young man. "Wayne, let me explain," she pleaded. "Explain what?" I snorted. "That just before our proposal, you're sneaking around with another man? The proposal is live-streamed to millions, with thousands of media outlets eagerly awaiting the announcement." I slammed the engagement ring down onto the table in front of her. "After the encore tonight, you'll either propose to me on that stage, or you'll be ruined, both in reputation and career!" Her fists clenched, but in the end, she gritted her teeth and grabbed the box. "Fine." Under the spotlight, she stood before me in her wedding dress, pulling out the ring. But instead of turning to me, she held the ring up toward the guest seating area, where her true love sat. "Wayne, thank you for helping me reach the stars," she declared. "But tonight, I'm going to chase my moon." The crowd erupted in shock and confusion. In a single instant, I became the laughingstock—the unwitting prop in her grand romantic gesture. My heart shattered the moment she reached him.