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Jilted Bride: Marrying The Dead War Hero

Jilted Bride: Marrying The Dead War Hero

5.0
History Qing He

I was supposed to marry Lord Tristan Beaumont. The wedding was perfectly planned, and my ancestral engagement ring was already on my finger. But days before the ceremony, he walked into the rose garden with my cousin, Seraphina, clinging to his arm. He looked at me with chilling indifference and announced he was marrying her instead. "You will still join the Beaumont family. Just not as my wife. You can be my mistress." Seraphina squeezed out fake tears, claiming they couldn't control their love, while the Beaumont matriarchs cornered me in the drawing room. They demanded I accept this humiliation quietly to protect their reputation, offering a dowry as the price for my dignity. Tristan even threatened me, reminding me that without their protection, I was an orphan with nothing left. They thought I was a helpless girl who would obediently step into their gilded cage, knowing I needed their family's resources to uncover the truth behind my parents' deaths. The humiliation burned, but my shock quickly turned into cold, hard fury. I looked at the man who had sworn his love and the cousin I had trusted like a sister. Why should I sacrifice my dignity to be a stepping stone for their perfect romance? I, Jolie Vinson, would never be anyone's pathetic mistress. So, in front of the entire smug family, I made a counter-proposal. "I request permission to marry the late Lord Gabriel by proxy." I chose to marry Tristan's dead older brother, becoming the untouchable senior widow to seize his vast, hidden fortune. But what I didn't know was that my "dead" husband was actually very much alive, hiding in the secret passages of my new bedroom, watching my every move.

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My Parents, Their Pet, My Hell

My Parents, Their Pet, My Hell

5.0
History Sophia Langley

The Great Depression had gnawed away at everything, leaving my family-my parents, Mark and Susan, and me, Sarah-scrambling for survival in a city choked with despair. Then, they found Buddy, a stray golden retriever, shivering in an alley. Suddenly, my meager cannery wages, meant for rent and food, were funneled into premium dog food, toys, and vet visits for him. I worked myself to exhaustion, only to watch them hand-feed Buddy roasted chicken from our good plates while I got watery potato soup. He wasn't just a dog; a cold, malevolent intelligence lurked in his eyes, a mocking smirk reserved just for me. When I tried to evict him, he bit me, and my parents blamed me, tending to him while I bled, calling me a "jealous, worthless girl." My world shattered when I was laid off, and an eviction notice arrived. Our only hope was a government housing lottery. But when I announced it, my parents only saw three spots: one for them, and one for Buddy. "He's not a dog!" my mother screamed. "He's family! More family than you've ever been!" They raced off, dragging Buddy, leaving me, weakened by hunger and infection, to chase after them. I watched, horrified, as an official marked three names: my father, my mother, and the dog. They were ushered through the gate. They didn't look back as it locked, leaving me outside. Through the bars, Buddy looked at me and grinned. I died alone, freezing in an alley. Then, a sudden jolt. My eyes flew open. I was in my bed, the morning my parents found Buddy. My blood ran cold, hearing their cheerful voices. I was back. And this time, I wouldn't die in the cold. I would find out why they chose a dog over their own daughter. And they would pay.

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