?💦💦"Ohh fk! You're still a virgin?!"My boyfriend got married — but not to me. He married the daughter of the most powerful Lycan Chairman in the world.But he doesn't know that while he's celebrating his wedding, I'm M ❤ L with his father in law.This is my wedding gift to him...**Today was supposed to be the day my fated mate and I got engaged. But now I’m watching him kiss another woman. Marrying her could make him the future Alpha because she’s the daughter of Gavin Landry, the most powerful Lycan chairman in the world.A couple of months ago, our Alpha died during a battle and now all the candidates are competing for that position, including my mate, Ethan.Everyone knows the Lycan’s control the werewolf population. And Gavin? He could singlehandedly appoint everyone the new Alpha.So, Ethan made his choice.Her, not me.He shamelessly demanded I become his mistress. I slapped him across the face instead. His pride couldn't take it—so he struck back by framing my father and having him thrown in prison.For days, I’ve been desperately chasing lawyers, begging for someone to take my father’s case... but every door I knock on slams shut in my face.My mother doesn’t know what really happened between me and Ethan. She thinks I was just being stubborn and upset him.That’s why she forced me to come here and apologize. Otherwise, there’s no way I would’ve shown up.“Get me a whiskey and a martini for the lady,” A deep voice sounded from nearby. “Is it the future bride, or the future groom that’s got you in a mood?”“I’m just not into parties,” I decided to say.“Nor am I,” he murmuredf obligation.”The bartender placed my drink in front of me and I immediately took a sip, sighing in contentment. I waited for the alcohol to do its job and finish numbing the pain.Every time Ethan kissed her, a dark thought would creep into my mind—to ruin the engagement and get revenge on him.But, I knew... neither Ethan nor the bride's powerful family were people I could afford to cross.“Thank you for...e on your cheek…” I whispered.He was only inches from me now, staring so intently at me that I thought I would burn up under his scrutiny.He licked his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth.“And your lips…”Before I could finish that sentence, his mouth crashed into mine. His kiss was anything but soft and sweet but filled with hunger and possession. I kissed him with just as much eagerness. His tongue made its way between my lips, tasting every inch of me. He lifted me into the air, my body pinned between the wall and him. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist and allowed him to deepen the kiss.His lips trailed down the nape of my neck and warmth spread across my body as I felt him sucking on my soft flesh.All self-control and common sense left my mind the moment his lips touched mine. All I could think about was Gavin; he consumed my mind, body, and soul entirely. I pulled at his tie, wanting to take it and his shirt off. He helped me undo his tie and then lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground.I let my fingers explore his body; they roamed over his abs and up his broad shoulders.I moaned into his mouth as his lips found mine again. “Are you sure you want this?” He asked between kisses.“Yes,” I rasped out. “We are both willing adults, so why not?” I deliberately caressed and rubbed that part of him until the "beast" awakened in my hand."Uhh， Bad girl…" he growled, pulling me closer.Gavin’s eyes burned into me, and I knew he wanted it bad.Click — I ripped off his belt, yanked down his pants, and my hand slid over his throbbing heat.His breath was heavy, his gaze dark with hunger.“Baby, I want you now.” I leaned in close to Gavin and licked his chin.He slammed me onto the bed, grabbed my chin hard, and kissed me like he’d never stop.Just as we were about to lose control, knock knock —“Father, it's Ethan. Are you in there?”👇👇👇 There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book) 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.Chapter 1Frank Nixon scoffed, snapping his phone shut. He glanced at Jeff Blenman, who was busy weaving a flower crown.""You get the call? Sienna's dead.""Jeff didn't even flinch. Still threading flowers. ""Dead's dead. If you're free, go grab the body.""Frank's smile cut sharp. ""You're her fiancé. Won't even deal with her body, but you want me to?""Jeff held up the crown, like he'd just won something. ""Wanna trade? You can take the title—and the wedding. Sound good?""I just stared at him, stunned.I didn't know why, but even dead, I was still stuck here.Jeff's eyes smiled, but his face didn't.That's when it hit me—he wasn't faking it. He really didn't want to marry me. He'd been dying to be free.That's how deep his hate ran.Frank stared at him, then let out a cold laugh. ""What, you think I'm a trash can? Supposed to take whatever junk you toss? Tomorrow's Lulu's birthday. I've got better things to do than deal with dead weight.""Right then, his phone buzzed.The ringtone stood out. His whole vibe shifted. Even Jeff looked up, watching him answer.A sugary voice floated out.""Frank, are you with Jeff? He's not picking up.""I knew that voice—Lulu Keller. Their forever crush.She moved overseas at ten, came back two years ago like nothing had changed.Even when Jeff and Frank still treated me decent, she hated me. Told me to back off.I didn't, so she had her people corner me. I was nearly left with a wrecked face.When Jeff and Frank found out, they warned her—one more move and she was out for good.She backed off. Kind of. Still pulled petty stunts.I brushed it off back then. Thought it was nothing.By the time I tried to explain, it was already too late.Their hearts had started leaning her way.Jeff glanced at his phone—missed call. His brow twitched. He'd silenced it after the cops blew it up, and that meant he'd missed Lulu's call too.Frank smirked. ""Sienna's dead. He's off grabbing her body. No time to hit you back.""Jeff's eyes iced over. He stood, grabbed the phone from Frank, and said, all sweet, ""Princess Lulu, don't listen to him. Your birthday's tomorrow. I'm putting something special together for you.""The room was bursting with flowers, stuffed animals, gifts—three days' worth of prep, all from Frank and Jeff.I met them when I was thirteen. For ten years, this was my thing too.They'd disappear three days before my birthday. I'd panic, then someone would blindfold me and walk me into this dreamworld they built for me.That stopped the second Lulu came back.Now it was all hers.Chapter 2Lulu asked about me.Frank and Jeff frowned in sync.Frank scoffed. ""Seriously? After all she did, you're still thinking about her? That girl never appreciated you. Just drop it. Let her dig her own grave.""Lulu's voice was quiet. ""But... what if Sienna's actually dead? Jeff? Frank?""My chest clenched. I watched their faces.Once, they freaked out if I scraped my knee. Said they'd protect me forever.Now Jeff just smirked. ""If she's dead? Great. I'll throw fireworks. Light up the whole city.""Frank snorted. ""Or better—ship her body back to wherever and pay some whackjob priest to curse her soul. Make sure she never comes near you again.""It felt like getting slammed into a freezer—numb, breathless, iced to the bone.I couldn't wrap my head around it. The same guys who swore they'd always have my back... were now cracking jokes about cursing me.Fireworks. Curses. All to make Lulu feel safe. Loved.In that moment, I was actually glad they never got my body. I might've never found peace.Lulu said she was scared, and suddenly Jeff and Frank were in panic mode, scrambling to get home.Weirdest thing? My soul followed them. I didn't even mean to.The second the car stopped, Jeff jumped out and booked it for the mansion.Frank muttered a curse and ran after him.They bought the mansion back in college—didn't want me stuck in a dorm, away from them.Back then, Jeff and I weren't official. Lulu wasn't around yet.It was just us three. Unbreakable. A perfect triangle.But then Lulu moved in. Started framing me left and right. And suddenly, there was no room for me here.I kept my distance, refused to watch, refused to care.Still, their laughter always found me.Lulu lost some game and flopped onto the couch, all dramatic.Frank ruffled her hair, smiling soft. ""Princess Lulu,"" he said.He used to call me Princess Sienna. I couldn't even remember when that stopped. One day, he was the sun orbiting me. The next, just ice—cold the second he looked my way.I never got why he iced me out.So I asked.His eyes shifted—bored to smug in seconds.Total playboy move—he grabbed my chin, leaned in close, his breath brushing my cheek.I turned away. He just smirked.""You thought I was gonna kiss you?"" he said. ""Please. Don't flatter yourself. Compared to Princess Lulu, you're straight-up gross. Can't believe I ever treated you like you mattered.""Then came the gut punch.""You wanna know why I'm cold? 'Cause I found the one girl I actually care about. You? You're nothing now. So do us both a favor—disappear.""That last part cut deep. And yeah, I believed him.The next day, I told Jeff I wanted out—leave the mansion to Frank and Lulu.But for once, Jeff didn't budge. The guy who always put me first shut me down.Said I was being dramatic. Spoiled. That I just didn't know how to accept Lulu.Then he ghosted me. For days.I couldn't handle the silent treatment, so I packed up and left to clear my head.Three days later, I was dead.Chapter 3I don't remember dying. Just that when I saw my own body, I couldn't look.It was pathetic. Horrific.Felt like I'd dropped into the ocean's darkest trench—no light, no clue where I was headed.I curled up, scared out of my mind—until something yanked me upward.Jeff and Frank were charging ahead.Frank behind the wheel. Jeff calling my phone nonstop.Their faces were grim.Then—busy signal.Jeff clenched his jaw, tapping the car door like a metronome.Frank glanced over. ""No answer?""Jeff shut his eyes, hiding whatever cold was brewing underneath.Frank floored it. The engine growled.""She's really going all in, huh? Even faked the ashes. Let's see if they're actually hers.""Ashes?So my body was already gone—cremated.Maybe once they saw the urn, they'd believe it. Maybe they'd do the decent thing and bury me right. 💔💔💔😭I have the best mother-in-law in the world, but a husband who doesn't love me. I thought having our daughter might win back his heart. Yet when I saw my husband and mistress celebrating our daughter's birthday together, I finally realized-after seven years of marriage, I'd gained neither his love nor our daughter's. They looked like the real family. My heart shattered completely. So I quit my job, sent him the divorce papers, vanished from their world. And never looked back... Chapter 1: The Family Of Three For seven years, Soraya poured her soul into her family. When her husband and daughter gave their love to the mistress, something inside her shattered. She walked away and never looked back. *** ~ Soraya ~ “No! I don’t want you! I want Aunt Rose!” Soraya’s daughter, Sage, screamed. “I want her to come to school with Daddy!” Those words were like multiple knives that stabbed through Soraya’s heart. Her daughter preferred her husband’s mistress to accompany her to school. “But, Sage, I’m your mom,” Soraya tried to reason, but her daughter only threw a tantrum, hurling the vase in the living room and screaming. “But I like Aunt Rose. She is pretty and talented, and Dad likes her very much!” Sage retorted, further tightening the feeling in Soraya’s chest. “If I go with you, Dad won’t come!” How could her daughter, the one she carried in her womb for nearly ten months and raised for six years, choose another woman over her? Soraya had already accepted that her husband would never love her, but what about her daughter? Why had she become so distant from her? Clenching her jaw, Soraya blamed it all on her husband, Calum Montclair. He was the one who introduced Sage to his “girlfriend.” He sent Soraya across the world under the guise of a business trip, allowing her daughter to bond with his mistress. Back then, he said, “I need you to close a deal in Singapore.” When she returned four months ago, Soraya learned about Rose and her growing relationship with her husband and daughter. 💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 He waited until the last guest had departed, until the house, which had been filled with the oppressive weight of mourning and the murmurs of condolences, had settled into a heavy, expectant silence. The scent of lilies, once a symbol of purity and resurrection, now hung in the air with a cloying sweetness that spoke of decay and finality. He stood by the window, looking out at the rain-soaked garden, his hands clasped behind his back, the posture of a man who had spent a lifetime waiting for this precise moment. When she entered the room, she did not look at him. She moved with a stiffness that was not merely the result of grief, but of a profound shock that had coursed through her veins since the moment she had laid eyes on him at the funeral. He had changed, yet he was the same. The years had etched lines into his face, silvered his hair, but his eyes—those intense, burning eyes—had not aged a day. They held the same fervor, the same desperate longing that had terrified her when she was a young woman. "Fermina," he said, his voice low, steady, yet trembling with an emotion he could no longer contain. "I have loved you for over half a century, in silence and in solitude, through countless nights and endless days. I have counted every minute, every second, since the last time I saw you happy." She turned to him then, her face pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "How dare you?" she whispered, the words barely audible, yet sharp as a blade. "How dare you speak to me of love at a time like this? My husband is not even cold in his grave, and you come here with this... this profanity?" "It is not profanity," he insisted, taking a step forward, his hands outstretched in supplication. "It is the only truth I have ever known. My life has been a preparation for this moment, for the moment when I could finally tell you that my love has never wavered, that it has grown stronger with every passing year, with every obstacle placed in its path." She recoiled as if struck. "You are mad," she said, her voice rising, trembling with a fury that masked a deeper, more terrifying fear. "You are a ghost, a specter from a past I buried long ago. I do not know you. I never did. That young girl who wrote you letters was a fool, a dreamer who did not understand the world. I am a widow now, a woman of standing, and I will not have you tarnish my husband's memory with your delusions." "Delusions?" he echoed, a sad smile touching his lips. "Is it a delusion to remember the way your hand felt in mine? Is it a delusion to recall the scent of your hair, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of your dreams? I have carried those memories with me, Fermina, like a sacred relic. They have been my sustenance, my reason for living." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of letters, tied with a faded ribbon. "I have kept every letter you ever wrote to me," he said softly. "And I have written thousands more that I never sent. Letters filled with my joys, my sorrows, my fears, my hopes. Letters that chronicle a life lived for you, though you were not there to witness it." Fermina stared at the bundle of letters, her breath catching in her throat. The sight of them, the tangible evidence of a love so obsessive, so enduring, was overwhelming. She felt a strange, unwelcome pang of guilt, a flicker of the connection that had once bound them. But she pushed it aside, clutching at her grief like a shield. "You speak of love," she said, her voice trembling, "but what do you know of love? Love is not a sentiment, it is an act. It is the daily choice to be there, to care, to sacrifice. My husband loved me. He built a life with me, raised children with me, stood by me through sickness and health. What have you done? You have hidden behind words, behind fantasies, while I lived a real life." "I know," he said, his head bowed. "I know I failed you then. I was young, I was foolish, I let you go. But I have spent every day since trying to become the man I thought you deserved. I have made myself worthy, Fermina. Not in wealth or status, though I have acquired those things, but in my constancy, in my unwavering devotion." He looked up at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I do not ask you to forget him. I do not ask you to dishonor his memory. I only ask that you consider the possibility that love can endure beyond time, beyond death, beyond the grave. That the heart, though it may break, can heal, and love again." She was silent for a long time, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, marking the passage of time that had separated them for so long. She looked at him, really looked at him, perhaps for the first time. She saw not the ghost of her youth, but a man, weathered by time and sorrow, yet burning with a love that refused to die. "I need time," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I need to grieve, to sort through the wreckage of my life. I cannot think of this now. I cannot think of you now." "I will wait," he said, his voice firm, resolute. "I have waited this long. I can wait a little longer. But know this, Fermina: my love is not a fleeting fancy. It is a force of nature, as inevitable as the changing of the seasons. It will be here, waiting for you, when you are ready." He placed the bundle of letters on the table, a testament to a lifetime of longing, and bowed his head. "Goodnight, Fermina." He turned and walked out of the room, leaving her standing alone in the silence, the scent of lilies heavy in the air, and the weight of his words settling upon her heart like a shroud. She waited until she heard the front door close, a soft, definitive click that severed the connection between them, at least for the moment. Then, slowly, tremblingly, she reached out and touched the bundle of letters. The faded ribbon felt rough beneath her fingers. She did not untie it. She did not read the letters. But she held them, feeling the weight of them, the weight of his love, and for the first time since her husband's death, she felt not just the crushing grief of loss, but the terrifying, exhilarating possibility of a future she had never imagined. The rain outside intensified, drumming against the windowpanes, a rhythm that mirrored the beating of her own heart. She stood there, clutching the letters, caught between the past and the future, between duty and desire, between the memory of the man she had loved and the man who claimed to have loved her all along. And in that moment, the long, uncertain journey of her heart began anew.
Not enough history yet to show a trend.