Lu Meng
19 Published Stories
Lu Meng's Books and Stories
The Serpent King's Unwilling Human Mate
Fantasy Fallon only wanted a relaxing nature retreat, but instead found herself lost in a dense forest, her limited-edition Balenciaga sneakers ruined by mud and her phone showing zero signal.
Before she could even curse her tour guide, a massive boar-monster the size of a truck burst from the bushes to eat her.
She thought she was dead, until a giant silver-and-black snake dropped from the canopy and crushed the beast. When Fallon woke up, she was trapped in a primitive cliff cave with a towering, muscular man who had the exact same cold, mismatched slit eyes as the snake.
A mechanical system voice echoed in her skull, telling her an anomaly had dragged her to the brutal Beast World. Returning to Earth was impossible.
Here, females were incredibly weak commodities, and the deadly "wind season" was fast approaching.
"Eat, or you will die. The wind season comes."
The snake-man, Justice, shoved a charred, dripping slab of raw bloody meat into her face.
Fallon sobbed in despair. She was trapped in a savage dimension with no modern comforts, abandoned by a glitchy system that only gave her a tiny, empty pocket space in her mind. Worse, she realized this terrifying apex predator had absolutely zero food stored for the freezing winter.
But when she instinctively clutched her grandmother's silver necklace, her tiny pocket space suddenly upgraded into a massive, room-sized storage dimension.
Looking at the awkward but fiercely protective snake-man who promised to hunt for her, Fallon wiped her tears.
She had the ultimate storage cheat, and he had the muscle. It was time to conquer the Beast World. From Discarded Mate To Enemy's Gamma
Werewolf For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack. The Family's Regret, Too Late Now
Modern My family accused me of betraying them, of nearly destroying the tech empire they had built from nothing.
As punishment, my father and two older brothers locked me in my room, leaving me without food or water until I confessed to a crime I didn't commit.
But when a medical condition flared and I began to suffocate, they dismissed my desperate screams for help as just another one of my "theatrics."
"She's just being dramatic," I heard them say through the thick oak door, right before they added extra bolts.
They were completely blinded by Ivy, the manipulative outsider I had welcomed as a sister. They chose her lies over their own blood, forgetting how I had secretly liquidated my own assets to save their company years ago.
I died alone, my last breath a desperate gasp in a house that refused to listen.
Then, I woke up.
Floating as a spirit above my own decaying body, I became a silent witness, waiting for the moment they would finally break down the door and be forced to see what they had done. Reborn Heiress Marries My Ex-Fiancé's Brother
Modern Tonight was supposed to be the night I became the happiest woman in D.C., celebrating my engagement at the legendary Bolton Manor gala. I wore emerald silk and a diamond that cost more than most mansions, convinced that Hank Bolton was my soulmate and the key to my family's future.
But behind the heavy oak doors of the guest wing, the dream died. I found my fiancé tangled with another woman, laughing about how I was nothing more than a "clueless cash cow" whose inheritance would fund his run for the Senate.
In my first life, I reacted with tears and screams, which only allowed his family to paint me as an unstable lunatic. They stripped me of my dignity, bankrupted the Adams estate, and watched coldly as my brother, Lucas, died in a ditch trying to save me. I ended up gasping for air in a burning building, realizing too late that my perfect engagement was actually my execution.
I died in the soot and the shadows, feeling the searing heat of a betrayal that burned worse than the fire. I lost everything because I was too blind to see the monsters hiding behind expensive smiles.
But then, I suddenly gasped for air and realized the smoke was gone. I was standing in front of a vanity, the calendar mocking me: October 14th. The night of the gala. I had been given a second chance, and this time, I wasn't going to be the victim.
I recorded the betrayal on my phone and walked into the library with a heart made of ice. I didn't just blow up the engagement; I demanded a new groom—Hank’s "invalid" older brother, Dereck, a man the world had written off as a dying recluse.
"I'll take him," I told the stunned family. I wanted a husband who couldn't cheat, a puppet who would leave me a wealthy widow within a year.
I thought I was choosing a safe, broken man to shield me from my enemies. I didn't know that under his blanket, Dereck was hiding a holster, or that the "dying" man was actually a predator who had been waiting for someone exactly like me to walk into his trap. No Longer Your Spare Part: The Luna's Revenge
Werewolf The drill's whine was the only thing in my world, vibrating through my skull and drowning out my own screams.
I was strapped to a cold metal table, paralyzed by wolfsbane, while surgeons bored into my hip bone to siphon my essence.
"Just a little more," the surgeon muttered. "Isabella needs the boost for the wedding photos."
They weren't saving my sister's life. They were harvesting my marrow just to make her skin glow for a picture.
I looked at the observation window, begging with my eyes.
Dante, the Alpha I had dragged from the jaws of death, stood there. He wasn't looking at me. He was holding Isabella's hand.
He didn't know I was the one who healed him. He believed her lies.
"Take it all if you have to," Dante's voice drifted through our fading mate bond. "Don't let her fade."
The drill punched through. My heart stuttered and stopped.
I died on that table, a hollowed-out husk used to feed my sister's vanity.
"Seraphina! Are you deaf?"
A sharp voice snapped me back into existence.
I gasped, clutching my hip. No blood. No drill. No pain.
I looked at the calendar on my father's desk.
I was alive. And I had exactly one year before the surgery that killed me.
I looked at my trembling hands and felt the ancient anger of my White Wolf stirring.
I wasn't going to be the sacrifice this time.
I was going to be the arsonist. The Billionaire's Secret Heir: Sign the Divorce
Modern I spent three years as the perfect, silent wife to billionaire Ezequiel Sanford, enduring a marriage colder than the marble floors of our Manhattan mansion. The day I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test was the same day my world burned down.
I found Ezequiel at the hospital, but he wasn't there for me. He was cradling his ex-girlfriend, Alexa, with a gentleness he had never shown me, while my own father was being rushed into the ICU after a suicide attempt triggered by our family's bankruptcy.
Instead of comfort, Ezequiel handed me divorce papers. He had checked a box that read "No Issue of Marriage," effectively erasing any claim I had to his legacy. He blackmailed me, promising to save my father’s company only if I signed away every cent of alimony and walked away with nothing.
When Alexa called him claiming an emergency, Ezequiel shoved me aside so violently I hit the sharp corner of his glass desk. As I collapsed to the floor, clutching my abdomen in sudden, searing pain, he didn't even look back.
"Stop acting," he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. "It’s pathetic. I will never love you, Claudia, no matter how many times you fall down."
He walked out to be with her, leaving me bleeding on his office carpet with the secret he had spent years trying to avoid. He thought I was a gold-digger faking a crisis, never realizing I was actually carrying the Sanford heir he claimed didn't exist.
Now, I’m hiding in a private clinic while my husband’s security team scours the city for me. My childhood friend just handed me a one-way ticket to Paris and a chance to restart the medical career I sacrificed for a lie.
The money just hit my father's account. I’m signing the papers and disappearing. By the time Ezequiel realizes what he’s lost, I’ll be a world away, and he’ll never even know my child’s name. The Alpha's Cruel Bet On His Unborn Heir
Werewolf For eight months, my Alpha husband Derek smiled as he rubbed my swollen belly, discussing nursery names.
I thought he was excited. Then I found the hidden medical file: Vasectomy. One year ago. Irreversible.
He believed my pregnancy was a betrayal. But instead of confronting me, he planned a public execution of my dignity.
At the pack gala, he and his mistress drugged me with Wolfsbane. Paralyzed and helpless, I was forced to listen as they took bets from the crowd on who the "real" father was.
When the pain started and I felt the life slipping from my womb, I screamed for him through our Mind-Link.
"Let the bastard die," he replied coldly, severing the bond.
I miscarried on the ballroom floor while they laughed.
They thought I was broken. They were wrong.
I sent him a box containing the remains, accompanied by a forged DNA test proving the child was his.
I watched from the shadows as his sanity shattered under the weight of "killing his own heir."
Now, he sits in a maximum-security asylum, howling in grief for a son that never truly belonged to him.
I sip my champagne in First Class, leaving the wreckage behind.
The sterilization had worked perfectly. The baby wasn't his.
But as long as he suffers, the truth doesn't matter. The Runaway Fiancée: Claimed By The Rival
Mafia I watched the man I was contractually bound to marry dive into the freezing water.
But he wasn't swimming toward me.
Only seconds prior, his mistress had shoved me into the ornamental pool.
I struggled to surface, my heavy silk dress dragging me down like a lead weight.
Jax, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago, swam right past me.
He reached for the woman who had pushed me, scooping her up as she faked a leg cramp.
He carried her out, stepping over my hand as I clawed at the slippery edge.
Every Capo and soldier in the underworld watched the heir choose a jersey chaser over his fiancée.
"You are making a scene, Eliana," Jax said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Go home."
He didn't offer a hand. He ordered me away like a disobedient dog.
Later that night, when I tried to return his ring, his mistress laughed and shoved me down a flight of stairs.
I lay at the bottom, broken and bleeding.
Jax didn't check if I was alive. He comforted her instead.
To him, I was just furniture. A guarantee.
He thought he had broken me. He thought I had nowhere to go because our families were allied.
He was wrong.
I left the five-carat diamond on the table.
I left my car keys on the dashboard at O'Hare Airport.
I didn't just run away.
I boarded a one-way flight to New York to join his mortal enemy, the Tran Syndicate.
Jax Little thought he owned the board.
He didn't realize the Queen had just defected. Public Betrayal: My Husband's COO
Modern At our company's launch party, while I was pregnant with our child, my husband's COO, Dorian, slid her hand into his.
She leaned in and purred that she was already "taking care of" his unique needs, a public declaration of their affair.
My husband, Bryon, just laughed nervously, his classic tell when he was caught.
The next morning, after I'd made the gut-wrenching decision to terminate our pregnancy, I saw them again.
I stumbled and fell to the pavement. Bryon rushed to my side, but when Dorian faked a dizzy spell, he abandoned me on the ground without a second thought to cradle her in his arms.
Lying there, forgotten on the dirty sidewalk, I finally understood. He didn't just cheat; he had no care for me or the child I had just lost. All my love and sacrifice meant nothing.
As he walked away with her, I pulled out my phone.
"Dad," I said, my voice ice-cold, "Pull every penny from AuraTech. And get me the best lawyers. I need divorce papers and a termination of pregnancy consent form. Tonight." The Day My Heart Died: An Ex-Wife's Reckoning
Billionaires The charity gala was suffocating, a gilded cage where I, Jocelyn Duncan, watched my husband, Andrew, openly parade his mistress Maria, making my irrelevance a public spectacle.
Our five-year-old twin sons, Caleb and Jayden, in an innocent accident, spilled chocolate mousse on Maria, provoking Andrew to condemn them to a brutal desert "behavioral correction camp."
I begged, humiliated myself, but he was unmoved; my babies were ripped from my arms, their screams echoing as Andrew watched with chilling indifference.
Hours later, driving through the arid landscape to rescue them with my sister-in-law Molly, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification: Andrew' s sonogram announcement with Maria, "A new chapter begins."
At that exact moment, police officers emerged from the camp gates and delivered a horrifying truth: my sons, Caleb and Jayden, had died from dehydration and heatstroke.
My world shattered, but Andrew, when I called, laughed and accused me of melodramatic lies, dismissing their deaths as a tactic for attention.
How could he deny them, our own children, who had just died from his callous cruelty, while he celebrated a new life that would never know theirs?
I had nothing left but an unbearable, burning agony, and a single, unyielding resolve: I would leave the shattered remains of my life with him, taking my sons' memory and only my unbreakable will to survive. Her Own Hell
Mafia A phone call from my oldest friend, Wendy, ripped through the quiet of my garage.
Her panicked voice claimed ruthless bikers had taken her, demanding I fix their custom bikes for her freedom.
Without a second thought, I sped into the Mojave desert to rescue her.
But when I arrived, Wendy betrayed me, knocking me out and delivering me to a biker gang.
I came to, discovering the bikes-thirteen identical, menacing machines-were ones I had custom-built years ago for their enigmatic leader, Deacon.
Imprisoned in a foul container, I risked everything, engraving my unique mechanic's mark on a spark plug for Mama Fuller to relay to Deacon, hoping he'd remember me.
Yet, Wendy, my supposed sister, shrieked out my secret to Ryan, the gang' s sadistic interim leader.
He retaliated by shooting Mama Fuller and throwing a gun on the floor, demanding Wendy and I fight to the death.
As I lunged for the weapon, bracing for the worst, I couldn't comprehend how my life had plunged into such a brutal nightmare.
Now, trapped in a world of violence and betrayal, I must confront the past I thought I'd buried and fight for a future I never imagined. The First Lady's Faked Demise
Modern For ten years, I, Jocelyn Chavez, the First Lady, was a prisoner in a gilded cage, enduring my President husband' s public humiliations with his mistress.
But then, I heard his chilling confession: he framed my family for treason, destroyed my father, imprisoned my brother, and now planned my "accidental" death to make his mistress the next First Lady.
My world shattered as he orchestrated my public downfall, forcing me to confess to poisoning his mistress's son and leveraging my daughter' s life to make me admit I was "unstable" before the press.
Every humiliation, every lie, every wound-each cut deeper than the last, culminating in him telling me my mother was dead and then plotting to terminate our unborn child.
But he didn't know the old Jocelyn was gone; I was fighting back, and the explosion that rocked D.C., supposedly claiming my life and my daughter's, was my masterpiece, not his. Ashes of Betrayal: A Daughter's Fiery Return
Fantasy The smell of smoke and burning flesh still felt real on my skin.
I woke up gasping, my hands flying to my throat, expecting to feel the char and ruin from the fire I died in.
But I was back in my own bed, weeks before the Lone Star Smoke-Off, the competition that ended my life.
My father, Andrew Johns, the patriarch of the famous Johns barbecue dynasty, stood by my side, feigning pride while secretly grooming my half-sister, Gabrielle, to steal my legacy.
They' d sabotaged me before, but this time, it was more than just a competition.
I discovered my mother' s hidden diary, revealing the horrifying truth: my father poisoned her to seize the family empire and erase her, and me.
Returning to the competition, they stripped me of everything-my smoker, my reputation, even my mother' s last memento, the "Whiskey River" grill.
I was left with nothing but the burning humiliation and the phantom pains of a betrayal that led to my death.
How could the man who raised me be a murderer? And how could I, disarmed and discredited, fight back against a conspiracy that spans generations and seems to defy logic?
This time, I was playing for keeps. I vowed that vengeance would be served, slow and hot, even if I had to become the fire itself. Unwanted Wife, Unstoppable Heiress
Romance For seven years, I poured my entire life into Caleb, believing his success was ours, even buying his mother an expensive Thanksgiving gift in hopes of finally being accepted.
But the moment I walked in, my world shattered: Caleb' s high school sweetheart, Maria, was there with a five-year-old boy who called Caleb "Daddy!"
The entire dinner became a public humiliation. Caleb treated me like a stranger, his mother doted on the boy as her "perfect little grandson," and then Maria cried, making the child slap me.
When Caleb and his mother demanded I apologize, he didn't even flinch when I walked out, instead grabbing my arm and hitting me for "being dramatic."
That' s when I saw the expensive drafting set I bought for his "nephew" through my money-it was for Maria's son.
I walked out, leaving him, our shattered fantasy, and every belief I had held about us behind, ready to reclaim my life. The Unwanted Wife's True Legacy
Romance My father' s funeral was two days ago.
Today, I married his killer. Five years later, I thought I had a quiet, comfortable life with Ethan, my steady, perfect husband who' d saved me from ruin.
He was my rock, my savior, the only good thing left.
Then, at a high-profile industry party, I slipped behind a potted plant and heard voices: Ethan and my ex-fiancé, Dylan.
Dylan sneered, revealing their masterpiece of a scheme – Ethan had orchestrated my father' s bankruptcy and subsequent death just to get me to marry him, a sick consolation prize, all while pining over another woman, Scarlett.
My world shattered. The man who held me as I grieved my father was the one who destroyed him. The lies didn' t stop there.
I discovered his toxic obsession with Scarlett, a decade-long shrine of photos, and a horrifying plan in his notes: he paid someone to destroy my father' s last gifts to me. The final blow? A will leaving everything to Scarlett, not me, his wife.
How could I have been so blind? My entire five-year marriage was a calculated lie, a twisted cover-up, not for love, but for guilt and a sick obsession. He didn't just ruin my family; he stole my choices, piece by piece.
The next morning, Scarlett came to my house, a cruel victory lap as she planned a photoshoot within the home she expected to inherit.
Ethan, my "loving" husband, rushed to her side when she faked a fall and screamed at me, then refused to believe me.
After I collapsed, I woke up in a hospital bed to the news I' d had a miscarriage.
Then Scarlett appeared again, casually admitting Ethan had been giving me "harmless" pills for years to prevent me from getting pregnant with his child.
She then shoved me down the stairs. That' s when the fog cleared. I walked out of that hospital, leaving a single note: I want a divorce. No looking back. The Guardian Angel's Comeback
Fantasy My quiet life in the sprawling Hawthorne estate was a secret dedication, for I was their Guardian Angel, my well-being intertwined with their immense fortune.
A scholarship student, I focused on my books, a delicate porcelain dove on my desk, a silent reminder of my crucial, hidden role.
This peaceful existence shattered when Brooke Ashley, my cousin Ethan's jealous fiancée, burst in, leveling wild accusations of grants "stolen" and spells "whispered."
Her rage culminated as she deliberately smashed my heirloom porcelain dove, its sharp fragments gashing my forehead.
The attack spiraled into a nightmare: Brooke and her friends disfigured my face with a letter opener, ripped my clothes, and even tried to brand me with a hot lighter, while the family butler betrayed me, diminishing my sacred status to save himself.
When Ethan's father, Marcus Sr., arrived, instead of salvation, he saw only scandal, and pressed a thick pillow over my face, attempting to suffocate me.
As I struggled for breath, the realization hit me: the very family whose prosperity I safeguarded was willing to commit murder to bury their cruel secret, sacrificing their own destiny just to silence me.
How could they, knowing the ancient pact, extinguish the source of their own success with such monstrous indifference?
In my final moments of darkness, the door burst open, and my childhood friend, Liam Hawthorne, my true protector, pulled me back from the brink of oblivion, promising a new beginning and a devastating reckoning for those who dared to defy fate. Too Late, Richard
Romance For eight long years, I was trapped in Richard Blackwood’s mansion, an agreement to care for his son, Ethan, after my sister Eleanor’s death, but I called it a cage.
Just as my contract neared its end, Ethan accused me publicly at a glittering gala, screaming that I was trying to replace his mother.
Richard, ever the dismissive patriarch, instantly took his son’s side, leaving me humiliated and isolated.
His cold indifference deepened when Ethan destroyed my sentimental belongings, culminating in the heart-wrenching death of my beloved dog, Buddy, at Ethan’s hands, which Richard shrugged off as an accident.
He even tried to offer me the freedom from birth control as a ‘favor’ for my service, then brought in a younger Eleanor look-alike, Tiffany, to openly replace me.
How could they consistently strip away my dignity and dismiss my grief, only to then try and buy my loyalty back?
The pain was a constant throb, yet my resolve hardened with each calculated insult and dismissal.
My breaking point came when Ethan, echoing Tiffany’s cruel words, shot me with a slingshot as I left, delivering a final, petty wound.
That moment snapped the last lingering thread of attachment; I dropped a silver charm at his feet, definitively severing our tie.
I picked up my bag, ignored Richard’s threats, and walked out the door, knowing my true freedom, and a new life, awaited in Montana. You might like
After My Death, I Became A Genius
Cerise R. Wood 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. Apocalypse Rebirth: My Gold-Eating System
Quye Xiaofang 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?" Marked by the Monsters I Created
Lila 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? Reborn To Ruin My Betraying Fiancé
Benjamen Ernst 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. The Game She Played
Call Me Cutie The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face – the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room.
But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it.
In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me. Chloe, Ethan's first choice, the woman he was supposed to marry, had returned. She feigned concern, using her 'wellness expertise' facade to get close. She then whispered poison in Ethan' s ear, painting me as a burden, before orchestrating my 'accident' – a fall that led to the tragic loss of my child, and soon after, my own broken, wasted death. I could still hear Chloe's voice, soft and venomous, as I lay bleeding: "You were always beneath us, Ava. Just in the way."
That memory burned, a raw wound in my soul. The sheer injustice of their cruelty, the depths of their betrayal, still sent ice through my veins. How could I have been so naive, so easily discarded? The confusion, the despair from that past life resurfaced, potent and suffocating.
But this time, I was ready. The knowledge wasn't a shroud, but a shield. I blinked, forcing a fragile smile. My new goal was clear, etched in the pain of my past: survive, protect my child, and utterly destroy them. Beyond the Billionaire's Shadow
Lila The air in the small living room was thick, heavy, mirroring the cold dread gripping my stomach.
My father, Richard, cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding mine, avoiding my mother' s.
"Emily, the papers are signed," he said, his voice flat.
"It's done."
He then looked at me and my younger sister, Jessica.
"Girls, you need to decide. Who you want to live with."
I was Sarah, and this was my second chance, my second life.
The memories of the first one were branded into me.
Jessica, beside me, shifted, her eyes holding a greedy flicker I recognized from before-she remembered a life she called poor, a life she hated.
"I choose Dad," Jessica said, her voice far too quick, too eager.
"Victoria will be pleased," Richard affirmed, a thin smile on his face.
Victoria Sterling.
The tech billionaire, my future stepmother, her name a scar.
In my first life, she had chosen me.
I remembered the endless lessons, the cold praise, the constant pressure to be perfect.
She broke me down, piece by piece, until Jessica, twisted by Victoria' s influence, ended my life.
No.
Not again.
My father urged me to be "sensible," to consider the "opportunities" Victoria offered.
Jessica scoffed, "You're an idiot, Sarah. You want to stay in this dump? With her?"
She chose the fire, thinking it was gold, unaware of the torment that awaited her.
But I knew the price.
I looked at my mother, her eyes full of pain, but also a quiet strength I hadn't truly seen before.
This time, I would protect her.
I would protect myself.
"I choose Mom," I declared, my voice clear and firm, irrevocably altering the script of my reborn life. Her Gift, Her Curse, Her Redemption
Bing Caratozzolo Sarah Miller, with her uncanny gift of foresight, was a sensation.
Her "Sarah Sees" livestream, broadcast from her humble Vermont farmhouse, brought comfort and answers to thousands.
She was a rising star, a rare and authentic voice in the world of online spiritual guidance.
But then, out of nowhere, an old childhood acquaintance, Jessica Evans, appeared.
"Mystic Jess," she called herself, launching a strikingly similar channel.
Whispers of Sarah being a "copycat" began, subtly fueled by Jessica and an influential local figure, Alex Peterson.
The online comments turned vicious, branding Sarah a "fraud" and "liar."
Her followers evaporated, her income vanished.
The local community, once supportive, grew cold, and the stress bled into her family's life.
Then came the vandalism, spray-painted threats, culminating in a confrontation that tragically led to her father's fatal heart attack.
I watched my family shatter, my life ruined, all by someone who seemed to mimic my every move, even my private thoughts, always one step ahead.
How could Jessica know what I was about to say or do before I even did it?
My own gift, once so clear, became a dark, confusing static whenever I tried to foresee anything about Jessica or my grim future.
It made no sense.
Crushed by grief and public scorn, wishing for an end to it all, I closed my eyes.
A snap, a void, then a gasp.
I opened them to find sunlight streaming through my old bedroom window, my laptop waiting-showing the exact date I launched my first livestream.
I was back.
And I wouldn't let it happen again. His Downfall, Her Design
CHRISTINE ROBINSON Fresh from a C-section, my baby girl Lily safe in the nursery, I awaited my husband, Mark. He was the celebrated CEO of Innovatech, our startup, built on my algorithms, his stage presence.
But his arrival brought no warmth, no questions about Lily. Instead, he presented divorce papers, flatly stating his intern, Chloe, was pregnant, and he needed to protect them.
The words stung deeper than surgical pain, awakening a past life memory: refusing, then dying with Lily in a "car accident" Mark orchestrated. This time, I signed. Yet, the nightmare escalated: Chloe grabbed fragile Lily, taunting me by an open window. Mark, believing her lies, had me, bleeding, dragged from the hospital. Days later, seeking my belongings, he smashed a mirror over my head, abandoning me on our doorstep.
The raw betrayal, his calculated erasure of my contributions-my intellect, my love, years poured into our company-returned only with cruelty. How could he be so utterly monstrous, so blind?
But this was my second chance. My precious Lily was alive, needing me. Fueled by that agonizing past and his brutal abandonment, a cold, new resolve set in. I wouldn't just survive; his spectacular downfall would be my meticulous design. My Daughter's Defender
Lan Zixin A five-million-dollar inheritance from a distant aunt. It was meant to be our fresh start, a dream come true for my loving husband, Mark, our sweet daughter, Lily, and me.
But within hours, my world shattered. First, Lily lay tragically still on the patio below, then my mother and I were caught in a horrific car crash. We were all gone.
Floating above my dead body, I watched Mark. His grief-stricken face twisted into a chilling smirk as he embraced his very pregnant assistant, Jessica. He brazenly confessed: they had murdered my daughter, my mother, and me. All for the five million dollars.
The betrayal was a physical ache, a searing pain, for a family wiped out by the man I loved, all for greed. An unspeakable injustice burned within me.
Then, strangely, I woke up. The familiar email from the lawyer pinged again. My Lily was alive, tucked safely in her bed. This time, they wouldn' t win. This time, I would make them pay. The Betrayed Heiress's Comeback
Zhi Yao I woke up with a gasp on the day of my debutante ball, the most anticipated event of the Texas social season.
My eyes snapped open to the familiar silk canopy, but a strange, phantom pain still clung to my last breath.
My custom-designed gown, perfected over months with the couturier, was gone from its stand.
This void, this seemingly small act, brought a cold dread, sharp and entirely too familiar.
Because in my previous life, this "missing" dress was the very first tiny crack, the prelude to a cascade of betrayals.
I remembered Savy' s brazen appearance, her stolen spotlight, her smug face, Brent' s weak compliance, Grayson' s cruel dismissal.
Their collective treachery had led to my father' s "accidental" death, my shocking disinheritance, a hellish rehabilitation facility, and my own lonely, mysterious end.
They thought they had won; they thought they had erased me for good.
The sheer, agonizing injustice of their victory, the vivid memories of my suffering, burned hotter than any fire.
How could I have let them destroy my family, my legacy, my very self, without a fight?
But they didn't know I was back.
I had reawakened on this pivotal morning, carrying every single agonizing memory of their deceit and my demise.
This time, there would be no panic, no helplessness, only a chilling, absolute resolve to reverse my tragic fate.
I was Aurora Sterling, and I was taking my life back, one strategic move at a time. 
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