966 Book(s) Related to novela s.o.s me estoy enamorando

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

I longed for family affection and true love all my life. I tried my best to get along with my stepbrother Karen, and wholeheartedly loved his friend Nolan. However, my sincerity was trampled into the mud. They conspired to hurt me, spread indecent content to ruin my life, and even broke the last relic left by my grandmother. I suffered countless humiliations and injuries, then chose to leave without saying goodbye. Years later, the two men were trapped in endless regret, but I had already walked out of the shadow of the past. Trust is gone, and so is my tenderness for them.

"We can only take one more person! Any heavier and we ALL go down!"

In the middle of a raging forest fire, my fiancé Carter Hayes was piloting a fuel-leaking helicopter, forced to choose between me and my cousin Lily Sterling.

He chose me.

Lily was left behind in the inferno. She burned.

I thought surviving made me lucky — until my parents slapped me across the face at my wedding. "Why wasn't it YOU who died?"

Turns out, I was never the one they wanted to save.

Carter married me, then spent five years making me wish I'd died in that fire instead. He and my parents worked together, systematically stripping away my dignity, my career, and every reason I had to keep living.

Three years into my depression, I jumped from the top floor of the Hayes estate.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself back before the fire — before the helicopter took off, before Carter made his choice.

This time, I spoke first. "Take Lily."

If they all wanted me dead, then I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

One hundred years married to Everett, and I've learned one thing: whenever he wants to push me into a corner, he throws the mate bond dissolution agreement in my face. Whenever my parents want me to cave, they hold the family name over my head.

They've always wanted the same thing — for me to hand over everything I have to my twin sister Rosalie, who's been sick her whole life.

I've fought it. I've grieved over it.

But when the doctor slid the diagnosis across the desk — Blood Depletion Syndrome, late stage, less than two weeks left — something in me just went quiet.

What's the point of fighting when you're already dead?

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

My husband's first love, Celine, lured me to a remote cabin under the guise of an "apology."
 
She then poured gasoline all over the porch and locked the door from the outside.
 
In my past life, the moment the fire began to spread, I desperately called my husband, Julian—a fire captain—for rescue.
 
He smashed the door open and saved me.
 
Ironically, Celine's scheme backfired, and she died of smoke inhalation outside.
 
Yet, Julian pinned her blood debt entirely on me.
 
He kept me at the hospital with his hypocritical comfort, only to tear off his disguise the day I was discharged. He tied me to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse and poured gasoline at my feet.
 
As the flames ignited, my ten-week-old unborn child and I were swallowed by the raging fire.
 
Julian's eyes were bloodshot. Facing my agonizing screams, his gaze held nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred:
 
"If you hadn't gone mad with jealousy and locked the door from the inside, Celine would never have died! Stop playing the victim!"
 
"The pain she suffered before she died... I'm going to make you pay for it ten times, a hundred times over!"
 
In the blazing light, he watched coldly as I was burned alive, turning into a charred corpse.
 
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the fire started to spread.

I’m Elowen, a Fae heiress. I snuck into the human world for a little fun and somehow ended up working as the personal bodyguard of Manhattan billionaire Grayson Whitmore.

To keep my real face from attracting trouble, I had one of my people cast a glamour on me, giving me a face full of freckles and a homely appearance.

Grayson criticized everything I did, yet every time I tried to quit, he refused to let me go.

His best friend, Preston Hale, was different. After I saved his life, he held my hand and made me a promise.

“Ellie, I don’t care what you look like. I want to give you a home.”

I was curious what it would be like to marry a human, so I said yes.

But at our engagement party, Brielle Vaughn, Preston’s first love who had spent years in Europe, burst through the doors with tears in her eyes.

Preston immediately yanked his hand away from mine.

“I’m sorry. She’s the one I love.”

Then he handed me a five-million-dollar check, put his arm around her, and left without looking back.

The guests laughed at me for ever thinking I belonged in Preston’s world.

All I could think was how ridiculous the whole thing was.

I turned and opened the door to the private lounge. The man who had watched the entire spectacle was sitting in the shadows.

I grabbed his tie and smiled.

“Grayson, don’t you need a wife to keep your family off your back? Why don’t you marry me?”

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.
In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.
Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.
This time, I said: "Take Niamh."
The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.
He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.
I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

My uncle cut off my allowance the moment he spotted my new tongue piercing. That night, I found a stranger online asking how to make his friend’s “gold-digging girlfriend” leave him. I told him to send her money. Minutes later, $8,888 landed in my account—from my uncle’s best friend, Adrian Foster, the handsome, buttoned-up man who thought my uncle was my boyfriend. The stranger was him. The gold-digging girlfriend was me. And the man he thought was my boyfriend? My uncle.

On the night of my 28th birthday, my husband was stuck in the OR.
The man sitting across from me at dinner was his best friend, Ronan.
I got drunk. Half-asleep, I pulled a man who smelled exactly like Nate into my bed.
When morning broke, the truth did too—the man pinning me down was Ronan. He’d used my husband’s cologne.
"From the first time I saw you, I wanted to steal you from him."
Crying, I confessed everything to Nate over the phone. Dead silence for three seconds, then he hung up.
By the time I rushed home, Ronan was dragging two suspiciously heavy black suitcases out the door. And my husband... vanished off the face of the earth.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

My brother Adrian said I was the one person who could make him drop everything.
I believed him—until his girlfriend came to our house.
She waited for Adrian to leave the room. Then she grabbed my chin, accused me of stealing her boyfriend, and slapped me across the face.
I was only three. She still warned me not to tell.
When Adrian returned, she smiled and said I had fallen.
But the red fingerprints on my cheek told a different story.
So did the camera above us.

“Gabriel Bryce, how can you stand being so shameless?” Leonica asked, staring daggers at her atrocious husband and his mistress. “This is the house gifted to my by grandmother, yet you dare bring another woman into it? Aren’t you afraid that grandmother would be disappointed with you actions…?”
Leonica’s words remained unfinished as an enraged Gabriel swung his hand through the air, smacking his palm clean on her left cheek.
Leonica held her throbbing cheek, eyes wide and teary as she stared at her husband who glared down at her ferociously.
“The nerves of you to mention my grandmother. You have no right to do so!” He spat, taking a step forward and jabbing his index finger painfully into her shoulder, making her take several steps back. “Bare this in mind, Leonica Romero, if not for the wishes of my late grandmother, I’d much rather be dead than associate myself with somebody like you.”
~* *~
Leonica Romero has always had a long time crush on Gabriel Bryce, CEO of Bryce Empire and Norway’s Business tyrant. Fortunately, at the request of his Ill grandmother, her family’s long time friend, Leonica gets the chance to marry her beloved.
Feeling elated, she abandoned her position and dream job in the Romero household and becomes a humble housewife for Gabriel. However, Three years later, on the day of Gabriel’s grandmother’s funeral, Leonica is stunned speechless when he demands for a divorce, as his ex girlfriend Angelina Fernandez had suddenly returned, proclaiming her undying love for him.
But that wasn’t the only shock Leonica received that day. Hours after Gabriel’s declaration for a divorce, Leonica wakes up in the hospital to a shocking news.
She was two months pregnant.
And Gabriel knew nothing about this!

Sexual compatibility mattered when choosing my husband. Love mattered more, so I chose Dean Harper.
For four unforgettable hot years, he was my best friend, my true love, and my husband. Then, one day, I handed him divorce papers. When he asked me why, I buried the truth and smiled.
"Because you're poor. I can't love a poor man forever."
He didn't argue nor did he beg me and simply accepted my decision. I wanted him to make things right, but he didn't even try.
Our divorce agreement had one final condition, one last night to have sex before we walked away from each other. The next morning, he disappeared, leaving behind a bank card... and enough money for me to "take care of the burden." He knew I was pregnant and put the decision on me.
Four years later, Dean returned as a billionaire tycoon, and my new boss.
He saw our son and kept digging to find out if that was his son, but I kept manipulating everything and lied to him for one solid reason.
He was here for revenge but also confused me. He gave me priceless jewelry, shielded me from every danger, insisted on making me his girlfriend again, and shamelessly demanded that we should make babies. The strong burning pull between us was so strong I couldn't resist either time he touched me.
If he hates me so much as he pretends, why does he still kiss me like I was his precious piece.

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

I hid my identity and pretended to be a country bumpkin by Christopher's side, caring for him and healing him. I never expected that the first thing Christopher would do after his recovery was dump me.

On the day my half-sister and I shared our birthday, he made a grand appearance at her party while leaving me to be mocked and ridiculed by everyone: "A country bumpkin doesn't deserve to be Christopher's wife. Go back to the countryside where you belong."

I just smiled. If not for repaying the debt I owed Christopher, I would never have stayed here in the first place. Any one of my hidden identities was someone they could only look up to.

No one expected I'd have the backbone to throw the divorce papers in Christopher's face, declaring that I was the one leaving him!

What happens when Kyrah Bailey falls in love with the son of a tycoon, Blake Dawson and later finds out that he has strings attached with his neighbor Sabrina Johnson? Will Kyrah be able to dig out Blake's past? Will she forgive Blake or not? Torn between her boyfriend, Blake and her best friend, Scott Stone, her world crumbles down as she tries to fight for her lover forgetting about her friends and family. Will she realize her mistakes and who will she end up falling for?

After a brutal public humiliation by her cheating fiancé, Andrea surrendered to one reckless night with Kade—the notorious Alpha, her fated mate… and the last man she ever wanted to be claimed.
But fate wasn't kind. When that night left twins growing in her womb, Kade was engaged with another for power. Betrayed. Claimed. Abandoned. Andrea boarded the first flight out, determined to vanish forever… until she realized that night already changed her forever.
Something dark had awoken inside her.
A forbidden power—one that could burn the world to ashes.
When destiny forced her back into Kade's path, how could she protect the pack's future—without shattering her wounded heart all over again?


“Say my name again,” he demanded. "Say you're MINE!"
I threw my head back and moaned as he bit my neck. “Kade,” I gasped.
I didn’t care that we were out in the open woods or that this was the man I had sworn off of; I had to have him inside me right then and there, or I would die from need.

In the moonlit mating gathering, Prince Lucien Kassel publicly rejects his fated mate Elara Ashwyn, declaring,
“I, Prince Lucien Kassel, take Seraphine Elvyr as my chosen mate,”
while Elara stands broken before the entire Wolf Kingdom.

Years later, after Elara has built a new life and secretly raised their daughter Mira, Lucien corners her:
“I never stopped loving you, Elara Ashwyn. I rejected you to save you from the white witches who wanted you dead.”

Elara’s furious reply cuts deep:
“You watched them brand me like livestock and call me a dark witch, Lucien Kassel. I wish I had never met you.”

$$$$

In a world where wolf shifters prize strength above all, powerless orphan Elara Ashwyn survives brutal pack abuse and public rejection by Crown Prince Lucien Kassel only to discover she carries forbidden dark witch blood and secretly bears his child, Mira. Forced apart for seven years, Elara rises as a fierce corporate lawyer while Lucien becomes king, haunted by his sacrificial choice to protect her. When their paths collide again, old wounds reopen amid royal conspiracies, white-witch covens, and a daughter with explosive powers.

This unique blend of rejected-mates angst, secret-baby redemption, and witch-shifter politics delivers raw emotion, steamy second-chance passion, and a heroine who claims her crown on her own terms.

Will Elara Ashwyn forgive the man who shattered her, or will their cursed bond destroy them both?

Clara Hughs is an orphan who was working in a bar as a waitress where rich men come to pick up girls. She encountered a strange handsome man at the club one night, Ragnor Usiku, who rescued her from trouble with her employer. Everything changed, as Clara Hughs found herself drawn to this man. Will Clara love him the same when she discovers who he is? Will their love bring them peace or will it create obstacles for them? To know more read "Will You Still Love Me The Same"

Minerva “Mina” Hayes thought marrying Tristan Johnston meant forever—until the night their marriage was announced and he stood beside another woman, letting the world brand Mina as the shameless third party. Betrayed, pregnant, and abandoned, she vanished without a trace, vowing never to love him again.

Three years later, Mina returns—not as the broken woman he left behind, but as a powerful CEO with her own empire. Now, the billionaire who once destroyed her is desperate to have her back. But Mina has learned her lesson. This time, she refuses to be his hidden wife—she’ll be the woman who makes him regret everything.

Yet as buried truths begin to surface, the lines between betrayal and sacrifice start to blur… 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗧𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁

He filled my head with lies.
Then he set my world on fire.

Gavril Vaknin.
Richer than God.
Crueler than the devil.

And if he has his way…
My new fake husband.

A chance meeting turns into a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
The billionaire don needs a blank slate to turn into his perfect politician’s wife.
I’m homeless and desperate—what do I have to lose?

But Gavril is hiding secrets. Cloaked in lies.
Stepping into his world is a one-way ticket to a hell I won’t survive.

Did I do the right thing?
Or did I just sell my soul to a monster?

Lena was punished for a crime she didn’t commit just to save her twin sister. But in return she was betrayed and rejected by her own destined mate, and then, worse, she was exiled from her own pack to the Darmos College.
There, her life changed when she met three hot alpha roommates.
Kai- the hot hockey player; Lucas, the doctor of the college; and Adrian, the biology professor.
“Little mouse, You are not only just our roommate—but our mate,” Lucas whispered in her ears, while rubbing her pink lips. She couldn’t believe and tried to push him away.
Suddenly, she felt another arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his bare chest body. “Whether you believe it or not, You are ours.” Kai, leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered.

The first thing they took was my baby.

The second was my parents.

The third was my freedom, my eyes, and every reason to live.

My husband gave me to three men on our anniversary. He chained me in a doghouse while his mistress laughed. He fed me my own son’s remains and called it mercy.

He said I was dirty. He said I deserved it.

But the DNA test he trusted was a lie. The video was staged. And the woman he’s about to marry is the one who destroyed us all.

I tried to die. Four times.

Now I’m done trying.

They put a dead woman in the ground. They’re about to find out she brought hell back with her.

Lia Moreno has three serious problems: a bank account in a coma, a boss who hates her… and a mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up.

The third one turns deadly when, in the middle of the company gala, she does a “sound check” and describes the CEO as an industrial freezer… with the mic wide open in front of the city’s entire elite.

The video goes viral, the memes crown her as an anonymous heroine, and everyone bets that Adrian Vega —the legendary cold, perfect boss— will fire her at dawn.

But instead of firing her, he calls her into his office and makes her a proposal as absurd as it is dangerous:
if the world already thinks there’s something between them, why not use it to their advantage?

Now Lia, the filterless intern, has to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most intimidating man in the building.

It was supposed to be just for damage control.
It was supposed to be just a ridiculous contract.

Until the game stops feeling like a game.

"You're one hot surprise, Kristel!" "Fuck me harder!"
They lay contentedly on the carpet, and Kristel thought it was time to tell her husband about her pregnancy.
Her husband suddenly and coldly filed for divorce. Kristel was frozen as she could not believe her gentle husband had suddenly become so heartless.
"Fiona is back. You're just a bet I made with her."
"So the tenderness for me was all an illusion; in fact, you weren't in love with me?" Kristel heard her voice tremble.
Kristel quickly moved out of their mansion, her marriage to Galvin had originally come together because of the business relationship between the two families.
She had been secretly in love with Galvin for ten years and she knew that Galvin did not love her, but she was sure that through her efforts she would make Gavin fall in love with her.
While she completes her signature on the divorce papers, Galvin hesitates ...... will Kristel give him a second chance?

On their third wedding anniversary, Ava's life takes a heartbreaking turn when she discovers her husband's shocking betrayal: he’s been having an affair with her stepsister, Autumn. Devastated and feeling lost, Ava realizes the love she gave him was met with betrayal and deceit.
Now pregnant and facing heartbreak, she decides to file for divorce. Just when she thinks she can finally move on, Jerome, her ex-husband, returns, begging for a second chance and claiming he was just a pawn in Autumn's cruel game. Will Ava take a leap of faith and give love another shot, or is it time to close the door on the past for good?

They said an Omega didn't belong in their elite military academy. They were right—I didn't belong. I was meant to destroy it.
I was Celia, the scholarship nobody, the punching bag for five ruthless Alpha brothers who ruled the school like gods. The Hale brothers made my life hell just because I dared to be smarter than them. They humiliated me, tormented me, nearly killed me.
Then they murdered the only person who tried to help me.
"You think you can compete with us?" Zaxer's breath was hot against my ear as he held me over the rooftop edge. "You're nothing but a pathetic little Omega."
"Then why are you so threatened by me?" I whispered back, watching his eyes darken.
They let me fall. Krystal, the friend I trusted, kissed my tormentor while I plummeted to my death.
But I didn't die. I got my wolf. And with her came a hunger for vengeance that burned hotter than any mate bond.
Now I'm back, and the game has changed. I know their secrets, their weaknesses, their guilty consciences. They think they can corner me in empty classrooms, threaten me with those piercing stares and brutal words?
"Hit me," I dared Zaxer in front of everyone, my voice steady as steel. "Show them all what kind of Alphas you really are."
He couldn't. Because for the first time, they realized something: the broken Omega they tortured has teeth now.
They ruined me once. Killed for me twice.
But when Kaiden growled those three words—"You're our mate"—everything I thought I knew shattered.
Because how do you destroy the ones fate bound you to?
Revenge never tasted so savage. Love never cut so deep.

"Take your things and leave, Mira. I never want to see you again. The guard will bring the divorce papers. Sign them. I have already done my part. Now it is your turn."
Mira, a princess of the Silver Claw Pack, was labeled a weak omega and abandoned by her father when her wolf never appeared. Heartbroken and humiliated, she ran away and found love in the arms of Alpha Adrien of another pack. Their marriage fell apart when Mira could not conceive, and Adrien's betrayal cut deeper than any wound.
Framed, banished, and left to hit rock bottom, Mira's suffering awakened the powerful, long-dormant wolf within her. Now stronger, fiercer, and unrecognizable, she returns to her home pack not as a broken princess but as a force to be reckoned with.
At the homecoming celebration organized by her father, Adrien, the man who once discarded her, is stunned. The woman he betrayed now commands respect and fear as a dominant leader. He begs for her back, but Mira is no longer the woman he left behind. This time, she is taking everything he once stole from her and more.

WARNING:This is an 18+ novel containing explicit male/male sexual content and mature themes.

“If this marriage means nothing to you, then let me go when the contract ends.”

I said those words to Ryan, even though they nearly broke my heart.

I had loved him since I was nineteen.

Now I was his husband—but only because a contract said I could be.

I knew Ryan never promised me love. I knew our marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement between an Alpha billionaire and a male Omega who needed his help.

So I stopped dreaming.

I stopped asking.

I stopped hoping that the way he protected me, cared for my mother, and became increasingly possessive meant something more.

Then I made the only decision that could save my heart.

I would leave when our contract expired.

But somehow, the moment I stopped chasing Ryan…

He started chasing me.

The man who once said our marriage was only business suddenly couldn't stand my distance.

And now I have one terrifying question:

What happens when the Alpha who never wanted my love realizes he can't live without it?

“I spent twenty-five years loving him. So why am I the last woman to know the truth about my own marriage?”

Chloe has spent years teaching women how to recognize love, betrayal, and the lies men tell. As a successful relationship streamer, she can untangle everyone else’s heartbreak—except her own.

Rhys was her childhood sweetheart, her first love, and the man who once promised to love her forever. Now, the football superstar she stood beside through every victory seems to have a place in his life for everyone but his own wife.

Then an anonymous message arrives with a photo of Rhys kissing another woman.

Chloe wants to believe it’s a cruel joke. Until she discovers that the woman is Lila, the very same woman whose romantic confusion Chloe once helped untangle on her livestream. And when Lila turns Chloe’s own broadcast into a stage for her triumph, Chloe is left facing the most humiliating truth of her life: the man she trusted may have been breaking her heart while pretending everything was fine.

For twenty-five years, Chloe made Rhys the center of her world. Now she must decide whether the love they built is worth saving—or whether walking away is the only way to reclaim herself.

But what happens when the wife who always stood by Rhys is finally the one who leaves?

I once believed that if I was obedient enough, my birth family would finally love me. Instead, they gave everything to Anna, the fake heiress—my competition spot, my reputation, even my kidney.
Then I opened my eyes and returned to the year it all began.
This time, I won’t beg. I won’t yield. My achievements, my dignity, and my life belong to me.
When everyone called me vicious, Damian Sterling draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked in a low voice, “Am I an outsider?”
I leaned into him and smiled. “Of course not.”
But soon I discovered he was being slowly poisoned—and the culprit might be someone closest to him. Worse, the truth behind my death in my previous life may be darker than I ever imagined…

1

When the hospital called, I thought I was going to lose him.

The moment I burst into his room, Nathan was alive, but the way he looked at me, like I was a complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

My husband had forgotten everything. Three years of marriage, from the moment we met to falling in love, all erased.

But what's even more absurd? He stared at his bother Nolan and said, "Did I just... fall in love at first sight with a stranger?"

Listening to him frantically ask Nolan in the hospital room "Is this normal?", a crazy idea suddenly hit me—

Three years ago, Nathan "acquired" me in just three months. From his secretary to his wife, so fast it felt like closing a business deal. I loved him, but something was always missing... like a real courtship, real romance.

Now, he has amnesia.

What if I told him we were just in a contract marriage? That our contract was ending soon and we were about to separate?

When we moved to the estate on the hill, all the bedrooms had already been assigned.
My parents had the primary suite.
My brother, Adrian, had the east wing.
The south suite, with its view of the Hudson—the nicest room in the house—was marked Grace's Room.
There was no room with my name on it.
In the hall, a worker was fastening brass plaques to the bedroom doors.
Not one of them read Claire.
Ten years earlier, Grace's father had been my dad's underboss. He had gone into a burning warehouse to rescue Adrian from the Bellinis. He hadn't come out.
Standing over his coffin, Dad had declared that Grace would be his daughter from then on.
What the Don said was law in our family. Somehow, though, I was always the one expected to cover the cost of that promise.
I asked Mom where I would sleep.
“You're going off to grad school soon, aren't you?” she said, as if it were obvious. “What would you need a bedroom for?”
Then she turned back to the pink curtains she was choosing with Grace.
Adrian knelt on the floor, lifting different fabric swatches for them to see.
Nathan, my boyfriend of three years, was putting up Grace's paintings. He insisted on hanging each one himself; apparently the movers couldn't be trusted with them.
Sitting on a packing box, I finally got it.
Nobody had overlooked me by accident.
They thought Grace should have the room, the family, even the boyfriend I had believed was mine.
I brought up the agreement on my phone.
A federal research site in the Nevada desert. Classified work.
A five-year commitment, with no outside contact.
I added my signature.
Ten days from now, I would be out of their lives. And I wouldn't be coming back.

My boyfriend, Ethan Whitmore, has prosopagnosia. He can't remember faces unless he's looking right at them.
At our wedding send-off dinner, my roommate blindfolded him and challenged him to name three things about the woman he'd loved for four years.
"Big eyes. Small face," he said.
My heart nearly burst with happiness.
Even blindfolded, he still remembered me.
Then he smiled and added, "And there's a little mark behind her right ear. Cute."
My heart stopped.
Because I don't have a mark behind my ear.
The girl who does is Vivian Blake, the one who's been in his life for only eight months.
Four years of love, and he still couldn't remember me.
But eight months with her, and he knew every little detail.
I looked down at the promise ring spinning loosely around my finger, the tiny cartoon cat stamped into the band.
Ill-fitting. Thoughtless. Just like Ethan's love for me.
So I decided I would stop trying to leave a mark on a man who had never truly seen me.

I am Mandy Langley, 42 years old, CEO of Sterling International. In Manhattan's cutthroat business world, I'd earned the name "Ice Queen."
Five years divorced, my ex-husband's parting words still stung—he'd called me cold as stone, said I was nothing but a dictator even in bed.
He had no idea my frost was a facade, hiding an emptiness and a craving no one could touch.
I controlled billions in assets, yet I lay awake every night, consumed by a single thought: I wanted a man to make me let go, to force me to surrender completely.
That man walked into my office three years ago, and I'd been drowning ever since.
Allen Thorne, my chief assistant, 28 years old—too young, shamefully young, and yet I couldn't resist him.
A year ago, I discovered the truth: he was the CEO of Vortex Capital, my rival, planted here to destroy me.
I should've fired him on the spot. Instead, I kept him close, pretending it was to watch him, when really, I just couldn't let him go.
Dangerous, magnetic, ruthlessly in control—he was everything I shouldn't want. I never exposed him. I fell harder instead.
I buried this forbidden desire, but every day he was there, right in front of me, taunting me.
What was I supposed to do? Cut him loose—or let him claim me?

On the eve of my mating ceremony, my twin sister and I were abducted by rogues.
My Alpha fiancé and my parents drained our territory's wealth, but only bought back my sister Elara's life.
Upon her safe return, Elara seamlessly took my place, claiming my marking ceremony to become his Luna.
Meanwhile, left to rot in the rogue camp, a wolfsbane-laced blade violently carved out my wolf's essence.
Tossed into the wilderness like rotting meat, stripped of my ability to shift and bear pups, I became the Crescent Pack's ultimate disgrace.
Forsaken by my pack, Silas—Alpha of the Obsidian Pack and my childhood friend—defied the Council’s fury. Under the Moon Goddess, he publicly marked me, sheltering me like an absolute treasure.
But now, in the third year of our bond, I accidentally knocked over a half-sealed Memory crystal in his study.
It projected a hidden dark magic ritual into mid-air, tearing the lie of that kidnapping to shreds in an instant.
In the projection, Silas held my sister's hand, his eyes brimming with a sickening devotion.
"Don't be afraid, Elara. Aria's twin essence is a perfect match. With this, you'll safely carry pups with the strongest Alpha bloodline."
A heartbeat later, Silas approached my blindfolded, bound body.
With zero mercy or numbing agents, he carved out my essence with his own hands, drowning out my agonizing howls.

We’ve been married for almost a month, yet my Alpha keeps hiding in the study to avoid me.
He would rather give me a cheap vial of synthetic bonding pheromones than bare his fangs at me.
I thought I was just the unwanted substitute for my runaway sister, that he felt absolutely nothing for me.
I slammed the door and left, heading to the Moon Well to confide. But the moment my blood dripped in, the Alpha's voice echoed:
"I finally married her... but I was born with a curse. How do I mark her without hurting her the moment I bite down..."

In my past life , I was delivering supplies in the scorching heat of the apocalypse , only to have my ex-wife 's lover smash my head with a stick.
daughter, whom I've spoiled for sixteen years, looked at me with disgust: "Pretending to be a good girl is disgusting. Kill him and take his supplies."
When she opened her eyes again, her daughter had been reborn.
She cried and clung to my legs, begging to be taken in, all to trick me into believing she was building a shelter.
I decided to play along, spending all my savings to build her a top-of-the-line temperature-controlled fortress, and then "meticulously" teaching her the secrets of switching on the electric grid.
As the apocalypse arrives, the ex-wife and her lover launch a night raid on the high wall.
my daughter pressed the switch, trying to let her father in and kick me out the door.
The next second, with a loud "boom," the multi-million-volt high-voltage power grid was instantly activated !
The daughter collapsed in the control room, trembling : "Why is the switch upside down?!"

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

For as long as I could remember, my family had insisted Vivian needed more because I could take more.
The pony I loved. The occasions meant to celebrate me. Time with my mother. If my twin wanted any of it, I was the one expected to go without.
Our induction into the Mafia Family was meant to be the exception. We were both daughters of Don Moretti. A crown was supposed to be waiting for each of us.
But Vivian's made-to-order crown glittered with both our diamonds, and the one assigned to me was tarnished, its setting bare. At the formal dinner, Father had my place card sent to the bottom of the table for not dressing properly—after I had spent my time crossing Manhattan to fetch Vivian's gown.
They assumed I'd give way, just as I always had.
This time, I canceled my part in the ceremony, filled a single suitcase, and took a flight with no return ticket.
When the Moretti Family assembled under its crest, two crowns were waiting. Only one daughter was prepared to put hers on.

Five years into living with my stepbrother Gideon, the scholarship girl he sponsored moved into our house.
To repay his "generosity," she made a habit of slipping into his bed at night. By day, she took it upon herself to "fix" my antisocial, withdrawn personality.
Three days before St. George Prep's graduation ceremony, she brought me a glass of juice wearing that nauseating sugar-sweet smile.
"You know, Charlotte, your peanut allergy is probably psychosomatic. You just need some exposure therapy. Let me help you get over it."
That night, my throat closed completely. She'd deliberately laced my drink with concentrated peanut extract.
I convulsed on the cold hardwood floor, vision tunneling as oxygen fled my lungs.
In the last second before darkness swallowed me whole, I clawed desperately toward the half-open door.
Standing in the hallway were my boyfriend Dylan and my stepbrother Gideon.
They simply watched me suffocate. Then Gideon calmly reached out and shut the door.
I died from anaphylactic shock.
Three months later, as a ghost tethered to this world, I watched her stride onto Stanford's campus. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my acceptance letter. Burning through my trust fund.
Through the crowd, I saw Gideon—my ice-cold, unreachable stepbrother—gently cradle her face and press his lips to hers.
Then I gasped awake.
I was back. Three days before graduation.