Zi Ya

At a high-society gala, my wealthy fiancé shoved me hard onto the polished marble floor. "Get away from me, you worthless stalker," he hissed in front of hundreds of mocking elites. He publicly broke our engagement, calling me a genetic dead-end, a worthless "Psi-Null." My own cousin and my other co-fiancés immediately joined the betrayal, legally freezing my trust fund, repossessing my home, and leaving me completely penniless in the rain. As if that wasn't enough, the Federal matching system suddenly flashed red, assigning me five new mandatory partners. They weren't just anyone. They were five decommissioned SSS-class military legends. But they were all on the verge of terminal energy collapse, rapidly devolving into mindless, bloodthirsty beasts. I was instantly exiled to the Umbra Sanitarium, a high-security prison on a toxic wasteland planet. My cousin laughed hysterically, tossing a ten-credit coin into a puddle at my feet. "Not only are you shackled to five dying madmen, but you're being exiled to the galaxy's garbage dump!" Everyone expected me to cry, to beg, or to be torn apart as their final meal. They didn't know the pathetic, love-sick Hadley had died when her head hit that marble floor. My soul, forged in the fires of a dead, post-apocalyptic world, had taken over this body. I calmly picked up the coin, boarded the rusted cargo ship, and took the job as the prison's new Head Chef. Looking at the chaotic, deadly energy radiating from the five terrifying monsters in their cells, I smiled. They thought this was my tomb, but it was actually the perfect feeding ground to level up my dormant powers.

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

I was forced to attend the grand Bloom Gala. My stepsister, April, glided towards me in her emerald dress and pressed a glass of champagne into my hand. "Drink this. You must be nervous," she smiled, as sweet as poison. It was this exact glass of drugged wine that started my ultimate ruin. After drinking it, I lost consciousness and was dragged to the Nightingale Pavilion, where I was forcibly mated by Alpha Hamilton. April then orchestrated a grand show, leading the entire party to "discover" my scandal. I was instantly branded a shameless Omega, paraded as a disgrace, and became nothing but a stepping stone for Hamilton's ambition to take the throne. When I was no longer useful, he chained me in a damp dungeon and slid a silver blade into my pregnant belly. I screamed silently as the life drained from me, the warmth of my unborn child turning cold. April just stood there, watching my gruesome death with hidden malice. Until I died, I couldn't accept it. Why did my own family weave such a vicious web just to destroy me for power? The sharp sound of shattering glass suddenly pulled me back from the nightmare. I stared down at my pale, unscarred hands and flattened my palm against my stomach. It was empty. Safe. I had been reborn to the night I was sixteen, right before the trap was sprung. Looking at April's expectant eyes, I calmly tipped the poisoned champagne into a potted fern. The lamb they had led to slaughter was dead, and the wolf had returned for blood.

I was Ethan Dejesus’s "glorified roommate" for eight long years. Even though I was a successful doctor, I lived in the guest room of his luxury penthouse and spent my mornings making his coffee like a servant while waiting for a ring that was never coming. The breaking point came when Ethan forced me to give his mistress, Delisa, a medical exam in the VIP wing of my own hospital. He didn't just want to break my heart; he wanted to destroy my professional dignity in front of the woman he was cheating with. During a paparazzi swarm at his estate, a heavy camera lens hit me in the temple, leaving me bleeding on the floor. Ethan didn't even flinch. He stepped over my body to protect Delisa, making sure he looked like a hero for the cameras while I struggled to stand. That night, I overheard him laughing at a bar, telling his friends I was like a "stray dog" that would always crawl back for scraps no matter how much he starved me. When I finally stood up to him, he shoved me out of his SUV onto a dark highway in the middle of a rainstorm and threw my purse into the mud. I walked for miles in the freezing rain, only to get home and find Delisa already moved into the penthouse, sitting at my vanity and wearing my clothes. "You'll be back in a week when the money runs out," he laughed as I packed my only suitcase. "You're a nobody from Queens. You have nothing without me." I looked at the man I had loved for nearly a decade and realized the woman who worshipped him was dead. He had murdered her on that highway, and he didn't even care. I blocked his number, dropped my key card on the floor, and walked out into the night without looking back. I wasn't going to be his "stray dog" anymore. I was heading to a small house in the suburbs to meet Carleton Schmitt—a total stranger I had agreed to marry in a moment of drunken desperation who was now my only way out.

I spent two years navigating the stratified air of Spencer Kensington’s world, thinking I was the woman he loved. I even ate instant ramen for months to afford a vintage camera lens for our anniversary. When I got a mysterious text about "Operation Blue Moon," I thought it was our private signal for a proposal. Instead, I walked into a limestone fortress to find the Kensington and Van Der Woodsen Engagement Party in full swing. Spencer wasn't there for a romantic dinner; he was standing under a crystal chandelier, announcing his "business merger" with a blonde heiress. When I confronted him in a service hallway, he didn't apologize. He offered to buy me a brownstone and keep me as his "side project" while his mother, Victoria, watched from the balcony like a queen. "Vanessa is just furniture," he said, his voice full of a terrifying sincerity. "But you're the one I love. I can give you a life of ease." When I refused to be his dirty little secret, the retaliation was instant and brutal. By the next morning, I was fired from my reporting job, my father’s nursing home funding was pulled, and I returned home to find my apartment condemned by the city. My entire life was piled in wet boxes on a rain-soaked sidewalk. I couldn't understand how one family could have the power to erase a person’s existence in a single night. How could the man who kissed me yesterday watch his mother leave me homeless and penniless today? Standing in the rain next to my ruined belongings, a black SUV pulled up and Mayor Julian Sterling stepped out. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a deal. "The Kensingtons are panicked," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "And panicked people make mistakes. You have a reason to watch them burn. I want to see what you know." I took his hand, knowing he was just as dangerous as the people I was fighting, but I was done being the victim. This wasn't just a breakup anymore; it was a war.

On my 21st birthday, my fiancé Chandler and my adoptive sister Brenda drugged me and sold my first night at a secret auction. Then they framed me for arson, and I spent the next three years in prison learning how to survive. After my release, I fought in underground clubs, bleeding for the money to buy back my family's brownstone. But Chandler found me, calling me a "common harlot" as he tried to drag me home. He offered me a "last chance" to apologize to Brenda for the crimes she committed. When I refused, he publicly announced the sale of my home. All proceeds would be donated to the "Brenda Richardson Philanthropic Foundation." He didn't just take my money; he took my soul. He took the last tangible piece of my parents, of my identity. Everything was gone. As I collapsed onto the grimy floor, my world shattered, I fumbled for my phone. There was only one name left, one last hope. "Brien," I choked out, my voice broken. "Please. I need your help. Get me out of here."

I fell for Kade Livingston, the campus king. To protect his family's reputation, he asked me to be his "shield," making me endure vicious bullying and even a kidnapping as a supposed test of my love. I endured it all, until his fragile stepsister, Dani, stole my most personal work—a photography series honoring my late mother. She didn't just steal it; she twisted my art into a grotesque, pornographic mockery of her memory. When I tried to expose her, Kade destroyed all my evidence. He then had me kidnapped and beaten, leaving me for dead, all to protect his stepsister's crime and hide the twisted nature of their bond. Lying bruised in a hospital bed, I finally understood. He never loved me. I was just a disposable pawn in his family's sick game. My disguise as a plain student, meant to keep me safe, had only made me a target for her jealousy. But they made one fatal mistake. They thought they were destroying Holly Erickson, a quiet, unremarkable girl. They had no idea they were messing with K.B. Barry, the secretly world-famous author with the power to ruin them all. Today, at the photography competition where they plan to celebrate their crime, I will make my first-ever public appearance and show them what happens when you break a queen.

After a brutal assault cost me my fiancé, my childhood friend swooped in to save me. He married me, cherished me, and I fell in love with the perfect life he built. I thought I had finally found my happy ending. Then, pregnant with our child, I overheard him confessing to my half-sister. He had orchestrated the entire assault. He married me just to stay close to her. In the hospital, she staged an attack, claiming I tried to kill her and her unborn baby. My husband shoved me against the wall, roaring at me as he rushed to her side. "I'll kill you for this!" As I lay bleeding on the cold floor, losing my own child, not a single person looked back. I was just a necessary casualty in his game. But I had recorded her gloating confession. I faked my death and fled to my billionaire mother. He would find out the truth, and I would be the ghost that haunted him to his grave.

I had loved my fiancé, Dominic Watts, since we were children. Our marriage was supposed to be the perfect seal on a merger between our two family empires. In my last life, he stood outside my burning art studio with my stepsister, Julia, and watched me die. I screamed for him, the smoke choking me, my skin searing from the heat. "Dominic, please! Help me!" Julia clung to his arm, her face a picture of false terror. "It's too dangerous! You'll get hurt! We have to go!" And he listened. He looked at me one last time, his eyes filled with a pity that cut deeper than any flame, and then he turned and ran, leaving me to burn. Until I died, I didn't understand. The boy who promised to always protect me had just watched me burn to death. My unconditional love was the price I paid so he could be with my sister. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bedroom. In one hour, I was due at the family board meeting. This time, I walked straight to the head of the table and said, "I am breaking the engagement."

For five years, my architectural career was my sanctuary, a fortress I built around myself and my sick daughter, Lily, after David, my fiancé and Lily' s father, vanished without a trace, leaving us to drown in debt and medical bills. The man who promised forever simply disappeared, and I poured every ounce of my being into keeping Lily alive. Then, he reappeared. Not alone, but with Chloe Davis – my best friend since childhood – by his side, her arm possessively linked through his. She was glowing, pregnant with his child, while my own daughter fought for every breath. They looked so perfectly, disgustingly happy. My world shattered again, only this time, he looked me in the eye, the woman he once loved, the mother of his child, and asked, "Who are you?" His mother and Chloe joined in, accusing me of stalking, of being crazy, while he stood by silently, denying our entire past, denying Lily. How could he forget? How could the man who swore to protect me, who saw my dreams, now look at me with such cold indifference, even annoyance? Did our love mean so little? Did our daughter mean nothing at all? But the final blow landed in Lily' s hospital room, where he stood with Chloe, brazenly celebrating their new life, while Lily gasped for air, hooked up to machines. He looked at our dying daughter and declared, "Whatever is wrong with this child, it has nothing to do with me." That lie, that ultimate betrayal, finally snapped something inside me. Enough. It was time for him to remember, and for me to fight back for my daughter, for our truth.

The smell of smoke and burning memories filled my lungs on our golden anniversary. Fifty years of what I thought was love, a shared history, was going up in flames around me. Then, terror: Sarah, my wife, screamed not for me, but for David, my best friend, trapped under a beam. She shoved me-not away from the danger, but directly into a wall of fire, clearing her path to David. As the fire consumed me, I saw her scramble past where I' d just stood, without a single backward glance. Our children, our very own children, rushed past my agonized screams, ignoring their burning father to free the man their mother truly loved. I survived, a testament to the fire' s fury: a landscape of scars and melted skin. In the sterile hospital room, she finally came, with a chilling resolve I' d glimpsed but never comprehended. "Ethan, let' s get a divorce," she said, her voice flat. "I want to spend whatever time I have left with David. It' s always been him." My own children, our children, then stood at the foot of my bed, faces twisted in a mixture of pity and impatience. "Dad, just let her go," my son urged, "Mom and David… they deserve to be happy. You were just… in the way." Fifty years of sacrifice, of putting dreams aside, of loving, and I was just "in the way." They remarried the very next day, a grand affair splashed across media headlines mocking me, the burned, pathetic old husband cast aside for an "epic romance." But as I lay there, I knew one thing they didn' t: if I had the chance, I' d never, ever marry Sarah Reynolds. Then I closed my eyes. I opened them to the scent of lilies, standing in a grand ballroom, unburned. Opposite me, a young Sarah Reynolds, eyes shining with excitement, at our engagement party. Before a toast could be made, she looked right at me, clear and brave: "I' m sorry, everyone. I can' t do this. Ethan, I' m calling off the engagement." A wave of whispers spread, expecting my humiliation. But all I felt was the crushing weight of fifty miserable years lift from my shoulders. It was a clean break, an unexpected gift. My eyes scanned the crowd, past Sarah' s bewildered parents, past a smirking David Chen. I found her near the orchestra, a guest who barely knew us: Dr. Olivia Hayes, a woman of quiet grace and intelligence. "Olivia," I said, my voice clear and steady, cutting through the noise. "I only want to marry you. Will you take me away?"

It was our tenth wedding anniversary, but the party felt exactly like the nine humiliating ones before it. My wife, Vanessa Thorne, a dazzling socialite to the world, was my warden, and tonight, she paraded her newest "toy," a young model named Liam. "Show him the ropes," she purred, her eyes alight with cruel amusement, forcing me, her husband, to mentor her latest conquest in how to "please her." As the guests snickered, the subtext was clear: "Show him how to be my pet, just like you." For ten years, I had been her gilded prisoner, my father's mounting medical bills the chain around my neck, paid for by the Thorne family. But tonight, something inside me snapped. "No," I whispered, then louder, "No. I won't." I met her eyes and declared, "Vanessa, I want a divorce." The room erupted in laughter, and Vanessa sneered, "You always come crawling back. You have nothing. You are nothing without me." She was right; ninety-nine times, I had failed, but this was the hundredth. I pulled out a printed divorce agreement, a symbol of my resolve. In response, she snatched my champagne and flung it in my face, hissing, "Have you forgotten what you are? You belong to me." Then, for her audience, she commanded, "Get on your knees, Ethan. Crawl to me. Bark like the dog you are." Soaked, shaking, and utterly broken, I knelt, the marble cold beneath me, and whimpered, "Woof." That night, locked in my studio, the phone rang: my father was dying. I pounded on the door, screaming, "Vanessa! Let me out! He's dying!" Her reply, cynical and cold, echoed through the wood, "Another trick? It's pathetic." She left me there, and a primal fury ignited. I smashed the window, cut myself on the glass, and fashioned a rope from canvas. I barely made it down, landing hard and breaking my ankle, but I crawled through hedges, alarms blaring. On the street, a sleek black sedan pulled up. A woman, Sarah Jenkins, offered, "You look like you're in trouble." I gasped, "I need to get to the hospital. My father..." "Get in," she said, her voice calm and steady. At the emergency room, I heard it: "Mr. Miller... just passed a few minutes ago." My father was gone. The chain was broken. A strange, terrifying sense of freedom washed over me, a feeling of nothing left to lose. I clutched Sarah's card, a lifeline in my hand, and whispered, "I'm so, so tired of fighting."

My life as a librarian in a small Southern town was perfect, a sun-drenched dream. My new husband, Mark, was solid and dependable. And then, two pink lines: triplets. My heart swelled, a joy so big it almost hurt. But the whisper started, directly in my mind. "I hope Mommy Sarah likes the special cupcakes I made just for her." It was Chloe, Mark' s sweet-faced ten-year-old daughter. A cold dread, sharp and familiar, sliced through me. It wasn' t just a dream, it was a terrifying memory of a life I' d lived before, a future so certain it felt like the past. Chloe, innocent smile, offering poisoned cupcakes. Me, trusting, then fire, loss, and darkness. My unborn babies and I, gone. "Sarah, honey, look what Chloe made for you!" Mark boomed, holding a plate of bright cupcakes. I gasped, faking sudden morning sickness. Panicked, I offered them to Mark. Chloe' s innocent mask flickered; panic flashed in her eyes when I suggested Mark try one. She snatched the plate, claiming they were only for me. A cupcake fell, and our golden retriever, Buddy, gobbled the frosting. Minutes later, Buddy was violently retching, poisoned. The vet confirmed it: household cleaner. Chloe burst into tears, feigning an accident, but her projected thought was chilling: "Stupid dog. Almost ruined everything." Mark, heartbroken by Buddy' s illness, was blinded by her act. He looked at me, full of concern for Chloe. "It was just a terrible mistake, Sarah. She' s just a child." He didn' t know. He couldn't hear the venom, the calculation, the hidden hatred aimed at me and my unborn children. How could I make him see the truth when the enemy wore a child' s face and spoke only in my mind? A new, icy fear coiled around the warmth of my babies. This was just the beginning.

My life was falling apart, much like my Brooklyn apartment with its persistent leak. Then, I stumbled back into the life of Gabrielle Chadwick, the woman who' d ripped my soul out three years ago, only to find her in my best friend' s bed. She was now a ruthless tech CEO, engaged to the same insidious man who' d convinced me I was just her "project." My old wounds bled anew, and I tried to escape, even inventing a fake girlfriend. But Gabrielle wouldn't let me go; she trapped me, demanding answers, which I met with accusations of her playing games. At a lavish industry event, to finally sever our toxic tie, I publicly declared my love for someone else, shattering her. Hours later, she found me, furious, desperate, and after slapping me, kissed me like her life depended on it. We reignited, but then she vanished for an "emergency meeting," leaving me with that familiar sinking feeling. The next day, news broke: Gabrielle was merging her company and marrying her fiancé, and I was fired, my project snatched away as a condition of their deal. Heartbroken, I deleted her number, booked a flight to Berlin, ready to erase her from my life for good. But as my boarding call echoed, the airport screens flashed: "Merger Off! Chadwick Innovations Stock in Freefall!" Then, I heard her scream my name, saw her running towards me barefoot through the terminal, tears streaming down her face, telling me everything was a lie and a fight for us.

For five long years, I chased a man' s love, guided by a mysterious "System" that promised me his heart. I lived in a world not my own, sacrificing everything for Ethan Lester, enduring 999 rejections while he preached piety and purity. Then, I found him in his private prayer room, not praying, but whispering Maria's name to a hyper-realistic sex doll, an exact replica of his adopted sister. My entire marriage was a sham, a shield for his twisted obsession; all his coldness and devotion were just a lie. I didn't play a game; I tried to make a man love me, but discovered he was in love with his sister, and I was just a fool for listening. But when he then harvested my skin for a graft-without my consent-to protect Maria's perfect face after a near-fatal incident he caused, I knew I was truly done. He offered me his body as a 'reward' for my severed flesh, but the disgust was cleansing; it burned away every last shred of my affection. I finally understood; my worth wasn' t tied to his twisted devotion. So, I ripped out my IV, filed the divorce papers he' d unknowingly signed, and stood in his empty mansion: "System, take me home."

The night before the SATs, I sat at my desk, my mind fixed not on review books, but on Kevin Johnson, my ex-boyfriend, whose excited voice boomed from downstairs, bragging to my dad about Tiff Rodriguez' s party-his new girlfriend. Then, a horrifying, vivid memory jolted me from what should have been a normal evening: Tiff, sneering in the school bathroom, outlining her vicious plan to drug Kevin so he' d miss his Ivy League SATs. In that other life, the one I somehow lived, I' d desperately tried to intervene, to warn him, but he' d just laughed it off. Tiff' s scheme ultimately failed and led to her death, but Kevin, consumed by rage, responded by framing me for sexual assault. The unbearable shame of his lies drove my parents to suicide, and I, arrested and condemned, died in juvenile detention, haunted by Kevin' s cruel visit displaying my parents' last, broken moments. The utter injustice of his monstrous lies, the agonizing despair of being blamed for everything while struggling to help, was an unbearable burden. How could one life be so thoroughly shattered by such a deep, twisted betrayal? But then, a sharp gasp brought me back to my room, the exact same night before the SATs, Kevin' s laughter still echoing. This was it: my second chance. A cold, knowing smile touched my lips. This time, I would write a different ending.

My adoptive sister, Sarah, was always distant. Ready to flee to college, my phone buzzed with an odd pop-up: She' s watching you. Her heart is breaking. Soon, these constant, mysterious messages haunted me. Then her manipulative boyfriend, Jake, turned our home into hell, destroying my most cherished things. Yet, the pop-ups relentlessly insisted Sarah' s coldness and complicity were secret acts of sacrificing love for me. The pop-ups justified every cruel act. But the ultimate betrayal came when Jake attacked my little sister Lily. Sarah publicly framed me, forcing Lily to lie, cementing my role as the family' s villain. How could this be love? This twisted nightmare, fueled by constant, insidious messages, made me question everything. Was I blind, or was Sarah truly lost? The gaslighting was relentless. Finally, Jake was gone. Sarah declared her love, expecting a future. But her "love" was a curse. With harsh words, I severed the toxic bond. In that moment, the pop-ups vanished forever. I was truly free.

If it hadn't been for Emma, Jack wouldn't have been lying on the bed for two years since that accident. She tried her best to take care of him every day and even lied to him that she cheated on him, only to motivate him to get up. However, he tried every means to torture her to vent his hatred of her. Swallowing all the grievances and bitterness, she was still there for him and treated him patiently and gently. Even before he knew, his indifference had already been melted down by her.

Lillian woke in a werecreature universe as a total loser. Good news was that women ruled here and could take multiple mates, yet she still ended up as the one everyone looked down on. Compared to her talented sister at every turn, she watched her first match get stolen and her next four mates reject her without mercy. The first mate was the King of Succubine himself. On their very first meeting, he warned Lillian that he was only staying long enough to recover from his injuries-and that there could never be anything between them. The second mate was a merman. He took one look at her and said he had no interest in a loser like her, tossing her some cash so she could break off their bond herself. The third mate was the progenitor vampire-over a thousand years old. He admitted to admiring her sister instead and made it clear he had no interest in a layabout like Lillian. Lillian cut every bond and chose her own path instead. But as she rose higher and higher, those same men returned, full of regret and begging her to look at them again. The fourth mate was a werewolf Lillian had rescued from an underground fighting ring. She thought he might actually stay-until he revealed himself as royalty. And of course, he wanted to break their bond for more power.

After transmigrating into a doomed novel villainess in the werecreature universe, who was destined for exile and death, Ella refused to follow the script. Since the real heiress would return in two years, she prepared early-gathering money, allies, and powerful supporters. One by one, she rescued the discarded men of the heroine. There was the abandoned werewolf, half-dead in his cage. She claimed him without a second thought. Then came the broken healer-disfigured, depressed, his mind warped by years of family cruelty. She pulled him from the wreckage. And the poor little thing treated like a wallet by the heroine, a pawn by his own family. She took him in anyway. But things spiraled out of control. The "useless" princess everyone mocked awakened as the empire's only SSS-ranked female-and suddenly, every powerful werecreature wanted to stay by her side forever. When the real heiress finally came back, she was floored. Not one of the men she'd been eyeing could even come close to the mates of that so-called "useless" Ella. Surrounded by the mates she'd collected along the way, Ella let out a long, tired sigh. "I think I've bitten off way more than I can chew!"

Veronica Demoore was the girl everyone despised. Mocked for her weight, humiliated for her grades, and crushed beneath a brutal home life, she lived every day as the target of ridicule-until the day she couldn't bear it anymore. The world thought Veronica died that night. But when she opens her eyes again. someone else is looking through them. Savanna. A woman once raised in the shadows of a powerful organization. A genius trained to survive, manipulate, and dominate. In her previous life, she had wealth, intelligence, and strength. In this one, she has none of those things-only Veronica's broken body and shattered reputation. But weakness is temporary. Bullies who once laughed at Veronica soon discover the girl they tormented is no longer the same. Her mind is sharper. Her gaze is colder. And the quiet girl they used to push around now carries a dangerous confidence. As Savanna begins transforming Veronica's life piece by piece-losing weight, exposing enemies, and rising to the top of the school-the truth behind her rebirth slowly unfolds. Because Savanna didn't die by accident. And the people who killed her are still out there. This time, she won't be their victim. This time- she's coming for everything.

Maya Cross woke up in a nightmare-trapped in the body of a sadistic villain who'd tortured five powerful beastmen into submission. Good news? She finally had the power to break their bonds and set them free. Bad news? They were stranded on a dying ship surrounded by Zerg swarms, with zero rescue coming. The first was Caleb, a snake beastman whose red eyes burned with pure hatred. Every time he looked at her, she saw the memory of chains and venom extraction. The second was Finn, an aquatic beastman whose scales she'd ripped off one by one. He could barely stand to be in the same room without his hands shaking with rage. The third was Sage, a griffin beastman she'd tormented so badly he barely went a day without fresh wounds. The fourth was Hunter, a lion beastman she'd mocked relentlessly, calling his beast form hideous and grotesque. The fifth was Jasper, a fox beastman whose face she'd scarred so badly he'd lost his consortium inheritance. "Protect me until I find my father," Maya told them, drawing her own blood, "and I'll give you what you need to break our bond." Caleb laughed bitterly. "Since when do you make deals instead of demands?" "Since we're all dead if we don't work together." But when survival depends on trust, can a torturer become a savior-or will her victims choose revenge over rescue?

She died in the apocalypse-betrayed, abandoned, and torn apart by the infected. Then she woke up. Two months before the end of the world. Twenty-two years old again. And on her wrist, a wooden bracelet that her mother had left behind. The bracelet came with a system. A system that eats gold. With enough gold, she can unlock infinite storage for food, water, weapons-anything she needs to survive. The super-hurricane, the floods, the insect plagues, the volcanic winter, the scorching heat... she knows exactly what's coming. While the world sleeps, Joanna shops. She drains her aunt's bank account, maxes out every loan she can find, and buys out half the city. The apocalypse is coming. She'll be ready. But when the chaos begins, the wolves come crawling back-relatives who sold her, friends who betrayed her, a father who abandoned her. They want her food. Her water. Her mercy. Joanna has a different plan. "Why don't you decide who dies first?"

At a high-society gala, my wealthy fiancé shoved me hard onto the polished marble floor. "Get away from me, you worthless stalker," he hissed in front of hundreds of mocking elites. He publicly broke our engagement, calling me a genetic dead-end, a worthless "Psi-Null." My own cousin and my other co-fiancés immediately joined the betrayal, legally freezing my trust fund, repossessing my home, and leaving me completely penniless in the rain. As if that wasn't enough, the Federal matching system suddenly flashed red, assigning me five new mandatory partners. They weren't just anyone. They were five decommissioned SSS-class military legends. But they were all on the verge of terminal energy collapse, rapidly devolving into mindless, bloodthirsty beasts. I was instantly exiled to the Umbra Sanitarium, a high-security prison on a toxic wasteland planet. My cousin laughed hysterically, tossing a ten-credit coin into a puddle at my feet. "Not only are you shackled to five dying madmen, but you're being exiled to the galaxy's garbage dump!" Everyone expected me to cry, to beg, or to be torn apart as their final meal. They didn't know the pathetic, love-sick Hadley had died when her head hit that marble floor. My soul, forged in the fires of a dead, post-apocalyptic world, had taken over this body. I calmly picked up the coin, boarded the rusted cargo ship, and took the job as the prison's new Head Chef. Looking at the chaotic, deadly energy radiating from the five terrifying monsters in their cells, I smiled. They thought this was my tomb, but it was actually the perfect feeding ground to level up my dormant powers.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

"I am not fully human, I am not fully wolf. And I am far from safe." Ayla has always felt normal, but when a silver-eyed wolf tears through the forest, she discovers powers she can barely control. The wolf inside her hungers, whispers, and fights to take over, and the pack she calls home begin to fear her more than the rogue wolves outside. Ancient symbols begin to surface. Secrets her mother buried resurface. Hunted by a shadowy predator known only as the Shadow Wolf, Ayla must master her instincts, uncover her origins, and survive a world that refuses to accept her. But every step toward control draws her closer to the dangerous truth: some forces are older, stronger, and deadlier than the pack itself and one of them wants her.

Casey woke up with a throbbing skull in a glamorous dressing room, facing a public execution by an internet mob. Her wealthy family had thrown her away. Her hypocritical sister, Coralie, forced a holographic tablet into her hands, demanding she join a deadly survival reality show on a wasteland planet. "It's what Mommy wants. If you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons." The whole world wanted her dead. On the live broadcast, billions of viewers cursed her as a toxic stalker. The golden boy idol Kayson physically attacked her to defend Coralie's honor. Even the show's staff mocked her, deliberately leaving her with nothing but a torn, broken tent and a single bottle of water for the lethal alien wilderness. The universe was playing a cruel joke on her. She was framed as the villain of her sister's perfect story, banished to a wasteland where everyone expected her to cry, beg, and die on live television. But they didn't know she had already survived a decade in the ruins. Casey didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she invoked a hidden contract clause, demanding a full year on the planet instead of the standard month. "I'll survive for a year, and the planet becomes mine." She grabbed her broken tent, stepped onto the red alien dirt, and prepared to show the universe what a real predator looked like.

Caryn lay trapped beneath concrete slabs in the apocalyptic ruins, a steel rebar pinning her down, the pressure unbearable. Her fiancé, Ford, knelt in the narrow gap above her, completely unharmed. "Sorry, babe. It's a new world. Survival of the fittest." He sneered, twisting the cap off their last bottle of purified water. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with a clean hand, and told her she would just waste it. He had manipulated her into signing over her uncle's house-her only defensible shelter-just to sell it for cash. Now, as a violent aftershock made the rubble groan and shift, Ford scrambled away without a single backward glance. For five brutal years of starvation and injury, she had clung to him and her grandmother's antique locket, only to meet her end betrayed and full of agonizing regret. Why had she been so foolish to trade her survival for a lie? A gasp of frigid air flooded her lungs, and her eyes flew open to a smooth, white ceiling. She wasn't in the dusty ruins; she was in her pristine silk bed sheets. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she stared at the date on the screen. It was exactly thirty days before the world would crack apart. She looked at the silver locket in her hand, a diamond-hard rage crystallizing in her chest. This time, she would activate its secret, and she would strip Ford and his family of everything before the apocalypse even began.