Before She Disappeared

She was reborn soft, sweet, and touched — surrounded by women who never learned to let go. Evangeline “Eva” Claire Maxwell — Lioré was once a brilliant, overworked woman from a cold, futuristic world. When exhaustion finally claimed her, she didn’t expect to wake up as a baby in the arms of luxury — a second chance in a modern world where time moved slower, kisses came warmer, and desire wore velvet gloves. In a world without magic, desire is its own spell. And love? It’s the most dangerous kind of possession.

Bening yang kabur dari pertunangan dengan pria yang dicintai sang saudara kembar, tanpa sengaja bertemu dengan pria yang usianya jauh lebih muda darinya di sebuah club malam. Berpikir jika hanya kabur, orangtuanya pasti akan kembali memaksanya menikah. Bening pun menjebak pria muda itu dan mengaku hamil setelah mereka bermalam bersama. Ia semakin berani memanfaatkan kenaifan pria berumur 19 tahun bernama Glassio itu karena Glass ternyata berasal dari keluarga biasa. “Aku akan membiayai kuliahmu, pernikahan kakakmu dan pengobatan ibumu, tidak perlu berpikir macam-macam asal kamu mau menikah denganku,” ucap Bening, ada setiap penekanan di setiap kata yang dia ucapkan. “Apa setelah anak itu lahir kita akan bercerai?” tanya Glass Sampai kapan Bening bisa menyembunyikan kebohongannya? Mungkinkah dia akan rela berpisah dengan pria muda berhati hangat yang ternyata serius ingin bertanggungjawab menghidupi dirinya dan calon anak yang sama sekali tidak ada? Belum lagi Fakta lain yang terungkap, Glass ternyata bukan pria biasa. “Namamu seperti pangeran tapi nasibmu seperti pengawal.”

The moment I tasted blood in my mouth, I knew it wasn't mine. It was hers. Again. They said I was weak. An omega. A wife. A shadow. But I burned everything they gave me—and walked away. Now, years later, I am back. Not as his mate. Not as his Luna. But as someone stronger. Someone he can’t control. He looks at me with those green eyes like I’m still his. But he gave me away. To her. Sienna smiles like a queen. But behind those lips, I smell lies. And death. They want me close. They think I’ll break. But I didn’t rise from ashes to fall again. This time, I’m not running. I’m hunting. And they won’t see me coming.

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

Lena Clermont fell hard for her dad's friend, Andrew Rohan—twelve years older. The first time she saw him, he was all sharp suits and broad shoulders, effortlessly standing out. He smiled, patted her head, and handed her a princess dress. Fast forward to twenty. He got drugged at a banquet. She wore that same dress, offering herself as the cure.

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

Grace is forced into marriage with Damon Croft, the Rival Alpha who swore to destroy her father’s bloodline by entering what looked like a revenge marriage arrangement only to for it to become a curse-bound marriage. Where neither could leave. In a world ruled by Lycans, fated mates are rare…and even cruelly binding and what escalates things is that Damon doesn’t hide his hate for her. He doesn’t love her and he only wished to make her pay for her fathers sins, one day at a time but the moon goddess mark upon them complicates things and Damon swears he’ll never accept it. Grace, born mute and treated as a ghost in her own home refuses to beg for his mercy. Every time he tries to break her, she finds another way to defy him and every act of defiance blurs the line between hatred and obsession. Until everything is at stake and what they think they know is not what they know. Their whole lives have been someone’s needlework of manipulation and greed. She can’t stand him but he can't get enough of her.

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”