Novels

I was once Mike Wilson's sugar baby. Pretty, sweet, obedient, and perfectly matched with his bedroom preferences. That's why this guy who normally avoided women did something that shocked everyone—he kept me around for three years.

I forgot to text "Goodnight" to my boyfriend, and he broke up with me. Again.

Alex Wilbur, my husband, took his female assistant to the hotel to get a room. I called his parents and pretended to panic and said, "Mom, dad, Alex has been kidnapped. He is at the St. Louis Road hotel. Come quickly." The Wilbur Family rushed over and brought a few policemen. After breaking into the house, everyone was dumbfounded when they saw Alex with a panicked face and his female assistant lying naked on the bed. Alex was so angry that he slapped me in the face and cursed, "Emily, don't you just want to force me to divorce you?" He sneered, "I'll help you. I want to see what you, a country girl, can do after leaving our Wilbur Family! Do you really think our Wilbur Family can't survive without you?" I left the house with nothing and got the divorce certificate as I wished. The moment I walked out of the City Hall, I took out my cell phone, dialed a number and whispered, "I'm divorced. Are the results of the paternity test out?" A respectful voice came from the other end of the phone, "The results of the paternity test just came out today. You are the daughter of the Manners Family who was lost that year."

My biggest problem is that I sleep too well. So well, in fact, that I can be thrown into a survival horror game and still be dead asleep in four seconds flat. A blood-drenched little girl stood at the foot of my bed, but my snores were loud enough to shake the walls. The corpse of a hanged woman in a painting opened its eyes at midnight, only to see me grinding my teeth in my sleep. When I got too hot in the middle of thenight, I rolled over and wrapped my arms around something cool and firm to the touch. It felt nice. The final boss whispered, “...Are you going to open your eyes? Or are you just using me as a body pillow?”

Mom thought I was boy-crazy. So she shipped me off to a "re-education" camp. They broke me there. I learned what they wanted me to learn: to fear guys. Mom was thrilled. "I should have done this sooner," she said, all smiles. Then she saw the scars. She realized she'd messed up. She begged my forgiveness, kneeling on the floor.

"My boyfriend, Chase, suddenly got amnesia and fell head over heels for the one girl he used to despise. I was pissed, devastated. I went after them every chance I got, and he became my worst bully to protect his new sweetheart. Then, one rainy night, I was assaulted by someone he set up. As I lay dying, I saw a comment floating above me: [The side character is so tragic. Little does she know, the main character has a system.] [The more negative emotions she feels, the more the main character gets her beauty and wealth.] [Who cares? It just proves how jealous the side character is!] That's when I realized I’d wasted my whole damn life boosting someone else's story. This time around, the moment that bitch, Lacey, showed me those lovey-dovey pictures of her and Chase, I just smiled and said, ""Congrats, you two!"" This time, I'm focusing on myself. Good grades, clear skin, and a fuckton of success. That's my story now."

Every year, on the day college entrance exam results were released, the top scorer in our city would mysteriously commit suicide. The higher their score, the more horrific their death. In that case, the police formed a special task force to investigate, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t figure out why it kept happening. As fear spread among students, some even deliberately scored lower just to avoid becoming the top scorer. But not me. I studied harder than anyone else and ended up with a perfect score, the highest in our city’s history. Because three years ago, my sister was the top scorer, and I watched her die with my own eyes. So, I was going to make them pay for her.

Just before I took my last breath, I finally agreed to sign the divorce papers.

I was reborn on the day Landon Pierce was drugged. But this time, instead of being his antidote, I dialed the number of the woman he loved, Lydia Rowan. In my previous life, I had fallen for Landon, the man who raised me. When I found out he'd been drugged, I ignored his desperate plea to call his lover and ended up sleeping with him, becoming his antidote. A month later, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant. Landon was forced to marry me, but on the day of our wedding, his beloved woman was killed by kidnappers while abroad.