Novels

When my girlfriend was at her lowest, I broke up with her. Years later, after she found success and fame, she used every means possible to marry me.

"The color drained from her face, and her parents stared in stunned silence.\nI watched the scene unfold, saying nothing, a cold smile tugging at the corners of my mouth."

In this life, I told my father I didn't want to marry Leon Williams. I'd rather marry his half-brother instead. My father was shocked—after all, everyone in town knew I had been obsessed with Leon for ten whole years. But in my previous life, I only discovered the truth as I lay dying in childbirth: the baby I carried wasn't even mine. It belonged to Leon and the struggling medical student he'd been secretly funding. The cruelest part? They conceived it using the drug I had developed. After my death, the three of them lived happily ever after as one perfect little family. So in this life, I'm willingly stepping aside for them. I'm curious to see how their love affair works out without my drug. What I never expected was Leon's reaction when he saw his brother's ring on my finger—he completely lost it.

Seven months into my pregnancy, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and the poor student I had been sponsoring. "Stephen, if your wife finds out that the baby in her womb is actually our fertilized egg, she might get so angry that she’d kill herself, don’t you think?" Rosie said and chuckled softly. "It’d be better if she did. That way, all her assets would be mine," Stephen coldly answered. "The only problem is if she decides to divorce me and kick me out. That’s why we need to keep this secret. Once our child inherits her assets, we’ll deliver her a crushing blow." That night, I pretended I didn’t hear a thing. I gave birth to the child and raised him with utmost care. Twenty-four years later, after my son returned from studying abroad, I transferred all my company shares and assets to his name. At a press conference, Rosie, the impoverished student before, holding my husband’s arm and clutching a maternity test report. She walked straight up to me and declared, "Kian is my biological son. You’ve been taking him from me all these years. It’s time to return him to me now." My son also threw a divorce agreement in my face, his words cold and ruthless. "Hurry up and divorce my Dad so we can finally reunite as a family of three. Considering you gave birth to and raised me, I’ll give you a monthly allowance of two hundred dollars." I smirked faintly and replied, "Alright."

My older brother ran away the day before his wedding, abandoning not just his bride-to-be but also the newborn daughter she had just given birth to a month prior. Afraid of offending the Roger family—one of the most powerful in Riverford—our parents panicked. They begged me to take my brother's place and go through with the wedding in his stead. So, I did. From that day forward, I took on a role that was never meant to be mine. I became a stand-in husband and a reluctant father. But I didn't do it halfway. I cared for Sara, my brother's bride, as if she were my own wife. I raised Elise, their child, like she was mine. Whether it was bottle feedings at 3 a.m. or rushing home from work when she had a fever, I was there. I handled everything—big and small, mundane or urgent—with silent dedication. Ten years passed like that. And in those ten years, people praised me. They said I was the perfect husband. The ideal father. No one remembered that I was a substitute. Maybe even I had started to forget. Then, three days before Elise's tenth birthday, everything unraveled. I had come home early from work. As I passed by the study, I saw Sara crouched beside Elise, her hand gently resting on the child's head. A motherly gesture—warm, tender. But her expression told another story. Her eyes were sharp with loathing. "You're old enough now," she whispered. "Stay away from your uncle from now on. If it weren't for him, your father would've never run away. He would've been here. He would've stayed." My breath caught in my throat. She wasn't done. "Don't worry. I've already found your father. Soon, the three of us will be together again." Elise slowly raised her head. Her eyes, once so trusting, locked on her mother's with confusion—and then comprehension. She looked like something inside her had just snapped into place. "So... Dad didn't want me because of Uncle Oliver?" That was when they noticed me standing at the doorway. Elise's face twisted in fury. She ran at me with no warning and shoved me hard. My body slammed into the stair railing and I stumbled, falling awkwardly down the last few steps. Pain shot through my ankle. From the top of the stairs, she glared down at me, her small frame trembling. "I hate you! This is all your fault!" By nightfall, I had a sprained ankle, a bruised shoulder and a heart that felt like it had been crushed. I limped to the phone, dialed an international number I hadn't touched in a decade. "Professor Murray," I said, my voice low, "I'm ready to join the research project."

"My husband, Richard Montgomery, was frantic. His kept woman, Serena Yu, had run off, pregnant. He was like a cat on a hot tin roof, pulling every string he had. He flew overseas to appease her personally. ""When you get back, give her the Best Actress award,"" he ordered me before leaving. ""Are you coming back?"" I asked quietly. He impatiently snatched the file from my hand. ""Of course I'm coming back. Are you that dependent on me?"" He signed the papers, tossed the file aside, and left. He was in such a hurry, he didn't even see what he'd just signed: our divorce papers."

"I attended my best friend's wedding, three days into a cold war with my boyfriend, Jake. He was a groomsman, and I was a bridesmaid. During the games, he lost. His penalty was to carry all the bridesmaids downstairs. He smilingly carried everyone except me. One pretty bridesmaid suddenly asked him, ""Do you have a girlfriend?"" He glanced at me, ""No."" The girl, bold and enthusiastic, said, ""Can I pursue you then?"" He smiled politely, ""Sure."" I suddenly felt utterly pointless."

The award-winning actor married me just to spite his first love. During the three Christmases we spent together, he remained entangled with his first love. On set, they embraced and kissed; during interviews, they exchanged flirtatious remarks. Everyone online called me nothing but a pitiful substitute. Yet, strangely enough, I never got angry about any of it. I just smiled and helped him clarify every rumor. Until one day, I accidentally became pregnant. I terminated the pregnancy without telling him. When he found out, he was both furious and heartbroken, furiously demanded to know why I'd done it. I calmly stroked his cheek and said, "Because I don't love you." The person I truly loved was his deceased brother.

After five years that I've been into this world, my real parents finally tracked me down. When they found me, I was scarfing down a burger from a food truck in the street. My own father stared at me like I was some punk. My mother, on the other hand, was crying her eyes out as she stared at me—at a face that was practically a carbon copy of hers. Behind them stood their golden boy Dave Graham, who'd been living the life I was supposed to have. Right then, his eyes were daring me. "My son! Oh, you've been through so much all these years! Come, come home with us now!" Ingrid grabbed my hand, her voice shaking. I stood up and gestured toward the group lounging at a nearby table—silently telling them to stay put. What the Grahams didn't realize? All of them at that table were my men.