Called by the Token: Her True Mate

The Architect's Vengeance: Empire Falls

My husband, Caden, was a real estate mogul who built his empire on our love story. The world swooned when he named his latest skyscraper the "Allisson Tower," calling it a modern-day Taj Mahal. But it was my design, and his grand gestures were just a cover for a grander theft. I discovered he wasn't just cheating with his pregnant mistress. He had stolen my architectural blueprints-the very foundation of his celebrated career. He' d bring me to the same restaurant where he' d just entertained her, recycling his romantic gestures. I watched him smile genuinely at her livestream while holding my hand, sending her virtual gifts with the message, "My princess deserves all this and more. You' re the only one for me." The man who swore "absolute honesty" on our wedding day had built our entire life on a mountain of lies. He didn't just break his vows; he pulverized them, turning our love into a public spectacle. So I planned my escape. I signed the divorce papers, packaged them with irrefutable proof of his plagiarism inside a model of the first building he stole, and handed it to him as an "anniversary gift." "You can't open it for two weeks," I told him. He had no idea that in two weeks, his wife would be a ghost and his empire would be ashes.

His Brother's Promise, My Silent Revenge

For one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days, I honored a deathbed promise to the man I loved. I stayed by his brother's side, acting as Grafton Mcleod's loyal assistant, his shadow, and the keeper of his secrets. When my five-year sentence was finally up, he announced his engagement to Cherrelle, the woman who took cruel pleasure in tormenting me. His celebratory gift to me? The task of planning their perfect engagement party. At the party, he publicly dismissed me as an "old obligation." Later, drunk and angry, he cornered me in a back office. He slammed me against the door, his mouth crashing down on mine in a brutal, clumsy kiss. He pinned me there, his body pressing into mine, and whispered a name against my lips. It wasn't my name. "Cherrelle." The violation wasn't the assault; it was the complete and utter erasure. I wasn't a person he hated or desired. I was just a stand-in, a warm body, a substitute for the woman he actually wanted. The last flicker of loyalty to his brother's memory died, leaving only ice in my veins. The next morning, Cherrelle screamed that I'd tried to seduce him, and he stood by and let her. My own mother called to shame me. That was it. I drove to a cliff overlooking the ocean, pulled the SIM card from my phone, and snapped it in two. It was time for Cayla Bass to die.

A Mission Forged in Torment

My mother was dying, her laughter stolen by a rare disease. A cosmic system offered me a deal: travel to another world, make a man named Ethan Stone love me, and she would be cured. It seemed easy; Ethan was sweet, attentive, and kind at first. But then, everything changed. Ethan became a monster, breaking up with me repeatedly, each time devising public, humiliating "tests" to win him back. From public apologies to standing in the pouring rain with a sign, I endured it all for my mother. The "tests" escalated - a high-stakes, uninsured motorcycle jump over a canyon that left my leg shattered, a forced tequila chugging contest that ended with me violently retching, and being forced to slap myself senseless on my knees in front of him and his new "protégé," Brittany. The ultimate humiliation came when he forced me to donate a kidney to Brittany without anesthesia, dangling the promise of marriage as incentive. I became numb, a puppet going through the motions. The love I once felt for him died, replaced by a profound emptiness. But the mission parameters were clear: get him to say he loved me, to commit, and my mother would be saved. After enduring unimaginable physical and emotional torment, I finally secured his verbal confirmation. The system announced my mission was complete, and I returned to my own world, my mother miraculously healed. I started a new life, finally free. But my hard-won peace was shattered when Ethan, having traded everything, suddenly appeared, desperate to win me back.

The Price of Deception, A Broken Man

For three years, every ache in my artist' s hands, every mile on my delivery bike, every humiliating monster costume in a haunted escape room, had a purpose: Sophia. "Her mother is sick," she' d told me, her eyes wet, "crushed by a mountain of medical debt." So, I worked, pouring every dollar and ounce of my being into a future where her worry would finally vanish. But on a Saturday night, lurking in the stale, fog-filled hall of that escape room, an emergency exit burst open, flooding the space with laughter. And out stumbled Sophia, tangled up with a man, Liam, in an expensive suit, his hand possessively on her waist. "My boyfriend is one of these poor, struggling types," she sneered, oblivious to my presence behind the flimsy foam mask. "An artist. It's almost cute, in a sad way. He thinks my mom's sick. The fool." The world tilted. My vision blurred. She wasn' t just with another man; she was mocking my every sacrifice. Then, a check for fifty thousand dollars, signed by Liam Davis, fluttered from her dropped purse. I, the "starving artist," the "toy," the "fool," had been systematically fleeced, my love twisted into a sick joke. The real Sophia – vibrant, passionate, and deeply in love with Liam – appeared on a security monitor, kissing him, shielding him from the camera, as employees whispered about their engagement. "She' s been playing him this whole time," one said, a chilling confirmation of my shattered reality. Her "mom," Evelyn Davis, Liam' s mother, appeared in a photograph on my nightstand - stark evidence of Sophia' s audacious lies. "It' s over, Sophia," I whispered, broken, walking away from the screams and lies, embracing the cold, hard choice of letting go. Now, stripped of everything, lost and collapsing on a wet street, I knew one thing: I was done waiting for her.

From Fairy Tale To Broken Dream

In everyone' s eyes, I was living a fairy tale: Ava Green, rising architect, with Liam Miller, the city' s most coveted real estate developer, by my side. Three years into our perfect life, his phone buzzed, and a single name, "Chloe," shattered my world, revealing the meticulously crafted lie I' d been living. He effortlessly dismissed our past, reducing me to an "old friend" before confessing I was merely a placeholder, a stand-in for the woman who owned his heart. The bitter truth felt like a physical blow: my entire relationship was a secondhand experience, every compliment, every loving gesture, a mere reflection of her. Trapped by his financial leverage over my ailing mother, I watched him erase me from his life, then realized I wouldn' t just survive his betrayal-I would meticulously plot my escape.

No More Victim: Love's Dark Turn

The last thing I saw in my first life was my sister Chloe' s enraged face, her hands squeezing the life out of me. "This is your fault," she hissed, as my parents, Sarah and Richard, watched-my mother holding me down, my father glaring at me from beside the wrecked car. They blamed me for everything: the cross-country road trip that was Chloe' s selfish whim, her high-risk pregnancy, and ultimately the fender bender that led to her premature labor and the loss of her baby. Despite my warnings, they only saw my supposed jealousy and the money Chloe's rich husband, Ethan, offered. "She was always a burden," my father' s cold voice was the last sound I heard before darkness consumed me. Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open, the smell of turpentine filling my nose. I was back in my art studio, unharmed, just as my phone began to ring. It was Mom. My blood ran cold; I knew this was the day they' d propose the trip. Every memory of their betrayal, their hatred, and my agonizing death flooded back. This time, things would be different. "Hello?" I answered, my voice steady. "Ava? Finally," my mother' s impatient voice said. "Listen, dear, we have the most wonderful news." A cold, quiet resolve settled over me. They wanted a pawn, a servant, a scapegoat, and they had gotten me killed for it once. Now, I would give them what they wanted, and watch them choke on it.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

He Chose First Love, I Chose the Alpha King

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Captivation: Want Nothing But You

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.

Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?