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Eli Baran is a genie in a magic lamp who can grant three wishes. After thousands of years, a billionaire uses his last wish to grant Eli freedom– but on one condition: Eli must marry his granddaughter, Christine Parrish, for five years! To fulfill the wish, Eli transforms into a human, marries Christine, and secretly helps her become a successful CEO. However, Christine ignores and constantly belittles him during their marriage. When the five years are almost up, Eli starts to realize that Christine might never truly love him. Then, when Christine's old flame reenters the picture, Eli's heart is completely shattered. Now, Eli is faced with a tough decision– should he stay by Christine's side once the final wish is granted, or is it time to for him to divorce Christine and finally live his own life?

"Shh… keep your voice down. Your former fiancé is right outside…" The day after the prince rejected me, his youngest uncle pinned me beneath him. His hot 🔥 slammed into me again and again… ---Chapter 1 The Year She Was Seventeen Again "If there is someone you care for, say it. I want to hear it from you." The King's voice echoed from the raised dais, measured and steady, carrying both authority and a rare gentleness. Each word was deliberate, sincere. Elowen Hale stood frozen. In that instant, she understood—she had returned. She had been reborn, back to the year she turned seventeen. Today was the palace banquet, ostensibly a family gathering. In truth, the King had summoned her for one purpose alone. With his own mouth, he intended to decide her marriage. Elowen parted her lips, but the words caught in her throat. A surge of tangled emotions tightened her chest, her vision blurring with heat. "You need not be afraid." When she failed to answer, the King's voice softened further. "The Hale family has served the crown for generations. Your father, your brothers, your uncles—they all fell for Avenlor on the battlefield. Now, only you remain. I will personally see to your marriage. No matter whom you wish to wed, I will make it so." Even after living two lifetimes, the memory of Hale Manor still made Elowen's heart ache. Avenlor had stood for less than a century. Its foundation was shallow, its enemies numerous, its future fragile. Last year, the horsemen of the Northern Reaches had shattered the border defenses. The Hale family had been ordered north to defend the realm. On the day they departed, her father, uncles, and elder brothers had been full of spirit, laughing and teasing her until she found them unbearable. When they returned, they came in coffins. Their bodies were wrapped in torn, blood-soaked cloaks. Silent. Still. Her aunts and sisters-in-law scattered—some returned to their birth families, others remarried. Her mother, crushed by grief, fell ill and died at the start of the year. The once-lively Hale Manor was left with only Elowen. The King had named this banquet a "family gathering," but everyone knew the truth. He meant to marry her off. It was his way of honoring the fallen Hales. A light laugh broke the solemn air. "Why even ask, Father?" a girl said teasingly. "Everyone knows Elowen is hopelessly in love with Alaric. She's never exactly been subtle." It's Princess Maerwyn Valebourne—the King's favored daughter. In her previous life, Maerwyn had said the exact same words. Back then, Elowen had flushed crimson and lowered her head in shy embarrassment at the mention of Alaric Valebourne, the Crown Prince. The King had laughed heartily and waved his hand. "Then it's settled. We'll choose an auspicious day, and you and Alaric shall be married." She had poured herself into that wedding. Every detail. Every preparation. She told herself that effort mattered—that if she tried hard enough, he might notice her. Might care. But—on their wedding night, Alaric shut her out. He refused to touch her. Refused to let her near the bed. By morning, Elowen was still there, curled on the cold stone floor, fully dressed, staring into the dark. There was no intimacy. No heir. The King and Empress, once full of pity, gradually turned disappointed. The entire Crown Prince's Wing adjusted accordingly. Without favor, without a child, Elowen became invisible. Servants no longer bothered to hide their disdain. She endured it all in silence. Until one day, she overheard a conversation. Alaric was speaking with one of his close companions—about her. Only then did she realize that everything she had suffered, he had known. He simply hadn't cared. Or worse—he had allowed it. His voice had been cold, sharp with contempt. "She forced me to marry her," he said, "and now she's getting what she deserves." His companion hesitated. "But Elowen is beautiful. She genuinely cares for you. Do you really feel nothing for her?" Alaric didn't pause. "She disgusts me." The world went cold. I forced you to marry me, did I? Is that really what you think? It had been your father's decision. If you didn't want it, why hadn't you spoken up? Why punish me instead? In this farce, the King was praised as a benevolent ruler honoring a fallen hero's family. The Crown Prince earned favor. And Elowen—she alone paid the price. What had she done to deserve it? Grief clawed at her until she thought she might vomit, yet nothing came. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. Numb, she went to Alaric. She stood before him and lowered herself into a deep, formal bow, asking for a dissolution of their marriage. Alaric, usually indifferent, snapped. Without warning, he seized a cup and hurled it at her. Elowen did not move. The cup struck her temple. Blood streamed down her face. For a moment, Alaric seemed startled, as though he might rise. Instead, he clenched his jaw. "There's no need to act pitiful." He refused the annulment. For days, he ignored her completely. Later—without explanation—he agreed. On the eve of their separation, Elowen looked around the chambers and realized she felt nothing for them. There was nothing she wanted to take. In the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Married at seventeen. Four years later, she was all sharp edges and hollow eyes—pale, exhausted, worn thin. At least she would be free. She fell asleep. And woke again at seventeen. Perhaps even the heavens had taken pity on her. "Oh?" the King said thoughtfully, turning back to the present. "She likes Alaric?" "Yes," Maerwyn said with a playful smile. "Elowen is completely smitten. "She's always bringing him pastries she bakes herself. Once she hurt her hand and kept insisting it didn't hurt at all—though I ended up eating most of them. "And not long ago, when Alaric lost something important, he was in a foul mood. Elowen even came to ask me what symbol he preferred. She wanted to replace it for him herself." As Maerwyn spoke, Alaric's brows knit together. His discomfort was unmistakable. To him, all of this was nothing but an unwanted burden. Around the hall, guests began turning to look at Elowen. Some curious. Some amused. All eager for spectacle. Another girl might have felt humiliated. Elowen felt nothing. This was insignificant compared to what she had already lived through. The King laughed. "So you like him that much? You grew up together—naturally, it must be mutual. In that case, I'll arrange the betrothal myself—" "Your Majesty." Elowen's voice cut through the hall. The King turned. “Hmm?” Her eyes were faintly red, but her voice was steady. This time, she didn't even look at Alaric. She stepped forward and bowed deeply, her posture formal and composed. "It is true that I grew up alongside His Highness," she said clearly. "But I have always held him in respect. I have never once harbored improper feelings toward him." Silence fell across the hall. Elowen did not see it, but Alaric's brows drew even tighter. The King frowned slightly. "Are you certain?" Elowen knew he would not relent unless she named someone. She remained bowed and answered with solemn conviction. "I have long admired the Duke of Duskmoor. If I may become his wife, I would have no regrets in this life." The grand hall erupted in an instant."What? The Duke of Duskmoor?" "She really said she wants to marry him?" "Why would she give up the Crown Prince for the Duke?" "Does she even realize he's in no condition to marry anyone at all?" The whispers surged like a rising tide, rippling across the hall from every direction. Elowen heard them clearly, yet her expression never wavered. The King sighed, trying to soften the moment. "That would be a difficult match for you," he said gently. "Perhaps I should choose someone else for you from among the noble houses." Elowen did not retreat. "Your Majesty," she said firmly, "I am deeply grateful for your compassion. But I have already made a vow before the Holy Mother. In this lifetime, I will marry no one but the Duke of Duskmoor. I humbly ask for your blessing." She sank into a deep curtsy before the queen and refused to rise, letting everyone see the determination in her stance. Cassian Valebourne, Duke of Duskmoor. The King's full brother. Ninth among their generation. In the years when the King had still been a prince fighting for the throne, it was Cassian who had stood unwaveringly at his side. Again and again, he had dragged the King back from the edge of death. His loyalty and strength had been instrumental in securing the crown. Afterward, Cassian led campaigns to the east and north—crushing rebellions, expanding the kingdom's borders, and earning unmatched renown on the battlefield. Until one year ago. While stationed in the Northern Reaches, Cassian collapsed during a campaign. He was carried back to Duskmoor Manor—and never woke again. Royal physicians came and went. None could offer certainty. Some whispered that he might never awaken at all. Elowen knew all of this. And she knew something else. In her previous life, during the third year of her marriage, Cassian had awakened. That year had been one of the darkest periods she had ever endured. She remained childless. The Queen arranged for Alaric to take a consort. Compared to Elowen, the consort was cherished—by Alaric, by the palace staff, by the entire Crown Prince's Wing. When Cassian finally awoke, Alaric brought both Elowen and the consort to visit him at Duskmoor Manor. On the return journey, the consort deliberately departed early in the carriage, leaving Elowen behind. Elowen didn't know the way back. She lingered, hoping someone might offer to take her along—but everyone knew the Crown Prince had no affection for her. No one wanted to risk offending him. Just as despair began to close in, a weak but steady voice sounded from behind her. "There's a carriage ready. Come.” She turned around, stunned. Cassian sat in a wheelchair, draped in a dark, loose robe. His sharp features were pale and gaunt, his body visibly diminished. And yet, when he saw her face, he offered a faint, gentle smile. "Would you care to stay for supper at Duskmoor Manor?" he asked. "No, I…" Elowen tried to say no, but the moment her lips parted, tears spilled down her cheeks—hot, uncontrollable. She didn't understand it. Why was she treated like this? What had she done wrong? Her only sin was that she no longer had anyone left to protect her. Her family had died serving the realm—yet she was the one cast aside. All the pain she had buried so deeply finally broke free in Cassian's presence. He sighed softly, then drew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She cried for a long time. And he stayed beside her the entire time. After that day, Elowen never saw Cassian again. But she remembered that moment for a very long time. Back in the present, the King frowned, deep in thought. He said nothing. It was the Queen who spoke at last, her voice calm and gentle. "If she is truly determined to marry Cassian," she said, "then perhaps we should honor her sincerity." The King looked at her, then back at Elowen, still bowing before him. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod. "Very well." He rubbed his temple, weary. "You have no family left, and Cassian remains unwell. The palace will oversee all arrangements." Elowen bowed again. "Thank you, Your Majesty." She had no intention of repeating the same mistake—of marrying Alaric once more. Cassian was her best option. For one thing, he was still unconscious. That alone gave her time—time to plan her future on her own terms. And in her previous life, though Cassian eventually recovered consciousness, poor care had left him permanently paralyzed. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. He had once shown her kindness when no one else would. The least she could do was care for him while he was vulnerable—help him heal, perhaps even help him walk again. And when he did wake, she would ask him for a divorce. He likely wouldn't want to marry her anyway. Before her father and brothers died—back when Cassian was still healthy—Elowen had heard rumors that he had once loved someone. No one knew who that woman was. Across the banquet hall, Alaric sat rigid at his table, his gaze fixed on Elowen as she bowed and petitioned to marry his uncle. An inexplicable irritation gnawed at him. "She wants to marry Cassian?" Maerwyn muttered under her breath. "Elowen really is the dumbest girl alive." Alaric's brow tightened. Maerwyn leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. "Alaric, I'll bet anything she'll regret this in less than a week." He gave a cold, humorless smile. "That has nothing to do with me." ... After the banquet, Elowen returned to Hale Manor. She walked through the familiar garden, into her long-abandoned chamber, and collapsed onto the bed. For the first time in years, she no longer had to face life with Alaric. She was finally home. The thought brought her peace. She slept deeply, night after night, slowly regaining her strength. Several days later, Hilda—one of the Queen's longtime attendants—arrived at Hale Manor. She greeted Elowen with a warm smile. "His Majesty has entrusted your wedding arrangements to Her Majesty," Hilda said. "The Queen has been preparing everything herself. Today, she'd like to choose an auspicious date—and she hopes you'll come to the palace to help." Elowen hesitated. "I'm not very good with such matters. Her Majesty may choose any date she finds suitable. I don't mind." Hilda laughed softly. "Even common families consult the bride's side after the groom's family chooses a date. You should come, my lady. The Queen said she hadn't seen you for a long time and would like a private word." A private word? Elowen paused. In both this life and the last, the Queen had never liked her. They had never been close. But Hilda's tone was sincere and gentle. Elowen couldn't bring herself to refuse. It was late afternoon when she entered the palace. She followed the servants toward the central wing—the Queen's residence. The setting sun bathed the cobblestone path in warm gold. Elowen kept her head lowered, watching the light flicker across the ground beneath her feet. "Your Highness." Hilda's respectful greeting rang out suddenly. Elowen froze, then slowly lifted her head. Alaric stood not far ahead. Tall. Immaculate. Cold. His brows were furrowed, his eyes sharp and assessing as they landed on her. That gaze made her chest tighten. She lowered her head at once and stepped back, offering a restrained bow. "Your Highness." Alaric's frown deepened. He knew Elowen liked him. She had learned his routine, timed her visits to the Queen, brought pastries she baked herself. Pretending chance encounters, she would smile and hand them to him. He never ate them. He either gave them to the servants or had them thrown out. But today, she carried no pastry box. So she'd come just to see him, hadn't she? At the banquet, she had boldly declared she no longer liked him. And now she appeared here—clearly regretting it. Playing distant. Pretending she'd moved on. Alaric let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Really, Elowen?" he said coolly. "Is this your idea of playing hard to get? Honestly, it's kind of boring."

Before that flight to Maui was confirmed, I'd mentioned countless times how I wanted to go on vacation with him. It wasn't until right before our sixth wedding anniversary that William finally booked two first-class tickets to Maui. I packed my bags with excitement, arranged everything, only to get a notification from the airline on the morning of our departure: the tickets had been canceled. I couldn't reach him on the phone, not even as the boarding gate closed. A few hours later, a video of William and his young ""VIP client"" holding hands on Waikiki Beach went viral on TikTok. I stood outside the terminal at Chicago O'Hare, in the sub-zero wind, and typed out the terms of our divorce agreement into my phone's notes with frozen fingers. The wind was brutal, but my heart was so completely frozen I couldn't feel a thing. … He reposted the viral video to his Instagram Story with a short statement: [Taking a much-needed break with a client who's been through a lot. Appreciate the privacy. 🙏] In the video, he smiled as he took a napkin from Vanessa, wiping away an açaí stain from the corner of her mouth with a look of doting affection I hadn't seen in years. I used to think that look was reserved only for me. In six years of marriage, I begged William countless times, but he always said the firm was too busy, that he had no time for me. Yet in the first year Vanessa was his client, he took her. That night, a polar vortex hit Chicago. A blizzard raged, and all flights were grounded. In the video, Hawaii was bright and sunny, the Pacific Ocean a stunning shade of blue. And I was trapped, stranded and alone in a paralyzed airport. I stood in the waiting area outside the terminal for a long time. My phone finally rang. It was William. His voice was casual, the sound of waves crashing in the background. ""The housekeeper said you're not home. Where'd you go so late?"" He paused, then added, ""I told you I'd be tied up this week. Don't go making this difficult."" Tied up? I watched the video of him and Vanessa on the beach, a chill running through my body. ""How are things over there? There's a blizzard in Chicago. Where are you?"" I said nothing. My silence must have annoyed him, because his voice turned impatient. ""What, you're just going to give me the silent treatment now?"" ""I'm at the airport."" Hearing those words, he paused, as if he finally remembered that today was the day we were supposed to fly to Maui together. ""Don't move. I'll have my driver come get you."" I didn't believe him, but my phone was about to die. The cold wind from Lake Michigan cut through my coat like a knife. I sat miserably on a bench by the curb, staring blankly at the falling snow. My phone battery only lasted two hours. William never messaged back before the screen went black. The last thing I saw was Vanessa's new Instagram post: ""While some people are stuck in the cold, I'm grateful for those who choose warmth. 🌺☀️ #Blessed #MentalHealthMatters"" The picture was a silhouette of him and her against a sunset. I laughed, suddenly feeling a sense of release I'd never felt before. Fine. I was stranded at the airport in a blizzard while he was with Vanessa, enjoying the tropical sun. I waited in the freezing wind all night, and he never contacted me again. I had spent six years of my marriage waiting for him to have a change of heart, even just once. But no one can wait for a lost ship at an airport. Enough time had passed. I was done waiting. 2:2 I eventually passed out from hypothermia in the blizzard and was taken to the emergency room. After getting an IV drip and a shot for my fever, I forced myself to go to the law firm. I heard William had already come back while I was unreachable. He'd caught the earliest flight back as soon as the blizzard let up. The moment I sat down in my cubicle, Benjamin, who specialized in divorce litigation, rolled his chair over. ""Samantha, you finally showed up. The big boss has been looking for you everywhere the past few days. He was furious."" I gave a faint smile. He was just scared I'd actually freeze to death in the blizzard, which would be hard to explain to the police and the media. After six years of marriage, we knew each other too well. If he cared about me even a little, he wouldn't have paraded Vanessa in front of me so openly, even bringing her to the firm to spite me. During lunch, William cornered me in the breakroom. ""What's your problem? I've been calling you for days and you haven't picked up."" I didn't speak, just went about making my coffee. ""How long are you going to keep this up?"" William grabbed my wrist, his voice low. ""I don't want to talk about this at the office, but this behavior is very unprofessional."" Thinking of the Marriage Settlement Agreement I'd printed out this morning, I didn't argue with him like I usually would. ""Don't worry, it won't happen again."" Because there wouldn't be a next time. Once we were divorced, we'd have nothing to do with each other. William paused, clearly not used to my compliance, and his tone softened slightly. ""Let's get steak tonight."" I didn't answer. He paused again, then said, ""I just passed by your desk and saw you organizing files for a divorce case."" ""Samantha, you're a criminal defense attorney. When did you start taking family court cases?"" I smiled. ""I haven't asked you where you've been the last few days, so don't ask me about my caseload."" He studied me for a moment, then lowered his voice. ""If you're taking side work, at least be discreet about it. Don't let the other partners see."" He thought the divorce agreement was a side job I'd taken for extra cash. I just smiled and didn't explain. After work, I received an OpenTable reservation confirmation from William. Anyone could see it was his way of compensating me. But it was too late. I put the printed agreement in my briefcase and got ready to meet him. Walking out of the office building, I saw Vanessa right away. She was wearing a Reformation wrap coat, clearly waiting for someone too. William's black Lincoln sedan glided past me and pulled up right beside her. Right in front of my eyes, Vanessa got into the car. She got the man she was waiting for. And I was, once again, the one left behind. But it didn't matter. I wouldn't be waiting anymore. I watched the taillights disappear into traffic. A moment later, a text from William came through. He was just telling me to wait for him in the lobby, that he had a last-minute meeting. I turned off my phone and hailed my own Uber to the restaurant. ""No, I'm not waiting for anyone. It's just me,"" I told the host. When I ordered, I specifically chose the spicy Cajun-style seafood. In the past, I'd always order something bland here, worried about affecting his performance the next day. This time, I didn't care about him. He wasn't coming anyway. Sure enough, when I left the restaurant at ten o'clock, there was still no word from William. Six years. In the list of his life's priorities, I was always last. 3:3 When I got back to our apartment on the Gold Coast, the living room light was on. William was sitting on the sofa. For six years, William had a lot of work events, and it was always me sitting in the living room, waiting for him with that single floor lamp on. When we first got married, he used to feel guilty that I waited up for him. Back then, I could still see a glimmer of tenderness in his eyes. It's a shame that tenderness only lasted for a year. And I held on to that faint memory for five more years. Later, William started to complain about me waiting up, accusing me of trying to meddle in his social life. He called me an insecure control freak. But I remembered clearly, during his years as a junior partner, he would always ask me to run interference and fend off drinks for him at important partner dinners. He used to call me his best teammate. I shook my head, pulling myself out of the memory. William's gaze was as cold as the ice on Lake Michigan. ""Samantha, you were almost out all night again."" I just grunted in response, taking off my heels. William narrowed his eyes, surprised by my cold reaction. ""Do you have any idea what day it is?"" I paused for a second. It was our sixth wedding anniversary. If things had gone as planned, we would be at the Waldorf Astoria in Maui right now. I had already contacted a friend there to book the best ocean-view restaurant. I thought we would have an unforgettable night. But he chose to take Vanessa instead. All my preparations had become a joke. ""I didn't prepare anything,"" I said softly. After all, we were about to sign divorce papers. Playing the part of a loving couple felt ridiculous. A flash of annoyance crossed William's face. He casually handed me a blue velvet box. ""Saw this on my way home. Just take a look."" I wasn't surprised. After standing me up so many times, according to his elite logic, he had to compensate with material things to balance the scales. That was William. He understood social norms, knew what was right and wrong. But for Vanessa, he would still choose the path that invited moral judgment. Maybe this was his way of expressing ""true love."" I took the gift box and tossed it onto the console table by the door. ""Thanks, I guess."" My polite response made his eyes flicker. He seemed completely unable to understand my detachment. ""I didn't make it tonight because something urgent came up with Vanessa..."" I cut him off. ""I don't need an explanation."" I genuinely didn't care, but William got annoyed and stood up. ""Are you ever going to let it go? Always making everything about you. Vanessa's case is being handled by our firm, and her father is a VIP client. I can't just ignore her, can I?"" I looked down, rummaging through my bag for the divorce agreement, and kept talking. ""Taking on a case that leads to a Hawaiian vacation and becoming TikTok's model couple. Attorney William's client care is truly dedicated."" William's brow furrowed, his face instantly darkening. It was an undeniable fact, so he could only stare at me with that usual, condescending look. He wanted me to back down and admit I was wrong. In the past, all he had to do was stay silent, and I would immediately start wondering if I had done something wrong, if I wasn't being considerate enough. I never questioned William's judgment. Deep down, I always thought it was because I wasn't good enough. But now, I just quietly kept searching for the agreement. There was no doubt William was a legal elite, but he didn't represent the truth. Stripped of that halo, he was just a vulgar and selfish man. It was my love that had gilded him, that had placed him on a pedestal. Now, the halo was shattered. I couldn't find the agreement. I probably left it at the restaurant. What a shame. ""You looking for something?"" William shifted, leaning closer to me. I pushed him away without another word. That night, I took a pillow and moved into the guest room. And for the first time in a long time, despite my chronic insomnia, I slept soundly."

Forced to share a horse with her worst enemy on a camping trip, Sloane thinks it is pure torture—until Cole's hands slide from her aching hips to places no stepbrother should ever touch. By the campfire he acts like nothing happened, but late at night she catches him behind an oak tree, one hand shoved in his sweatpants, growling her name. The next day on the trail he drops the act completely. His fingers inside her. His cock buried deep. His voice in her ear: "You are mine. Especially when I make you a mama."​Four months later their parents show up unannounced—walking straight into the bedroom to find Cole pinning her to the mattress, an ultrasound resting in plain sight on the nightstand. With their filthy taboo finally exposed, will the family survive, or is Cole's psychotic obsession just beginning?