10000 Book(s) Related to you may kiss the bride

For ten years, Aria believed her mate bond with Alpha Declan was sacred. Then he began spending every night in her adopted sister's nursery, and each visit sent agony through Aria's wolf. Pregnant, publicly condemned, and threatened with exile, Aria does the one thing no one expects: she demands that the bond be broken.

Declan thinks rank, family, and the pack's worship will silence her. He has no idea she is carrying proof that can strip him of everything.

I once believed becoming Empress would prove I was worthy.
Instead, the crown cost me my sister, my children, my freedom, and finally my life.
Reborn before my marriage was decided, I refused to repeat the same mistake. I stepped aside for my sister and accepted an engagement to Prince Rui—the empire’s charming, notoriously unambitious second prince.
He promised we could remain husband and wife in name only.
Then he fought my brother for hurting me, stayed beside me through a deadly fever, and offered to set me free when he thought I loved someone else.
For the first time, losing the crown felt like winning my life.

I was a wolfless Omega, and Ethan was the only home I had ever known.

So when his fertility report came back, I changed it and let his pack blame me for five barren years.

Then he moved his pregnant cousin into our house, and his mother forced a mate-severing potion into my hand.

They thought I had nowhere to go.

They didn’t know I wasn’t an orphan—I was the lost daughter of the Sterling royal line.

Nor did they know the pup his mistress carried could never have been his.

I left as Leah Carter, the Luna they threw away.

I returned as Princess Vivienne Sterling.

And the heir they celebrated?

A lie I was about to expose before the entire pack.

"911, what's your emergency?"
What came through wasn't words—it was raw, desperate sobbing.
In Oak Creek, a well-respected couple called to report their daughter had died. But when officers stepped through the door, what they found made a veteran sheriff drop to his knees and retch—
Their 36-year-old daughter had become part of the couch.
Her body had fused with decomposing foam, waste, and writhing maggots. Skin adhered to cracked leather. Her stomach contained couch padding and her own feces. She weighed 65 pounds.
Through tears, her parents explained: "She had severe autism... wouldn't let anyone touch her..."
But neighbors told a different story: Nobody had laid eyes on this girl in twelve years.
Then investigators found something beneath the couch—freshly used cleaning wipes.
Someone had crouched beside her decomposing body and methodically cleaned her. For days.
Then who stays that composed in hell?
Grief—or guilt?

I was once the most exquisite rose in New York's underworld.
Leander Castello's wife. The mafia godfather's treasured queen. The woman everyone envied.
I thought he would be my salvation, my forever.
Until he snapped me in half with his own hands and threw me into the filthiest pit like trash.
He said he needed to teach me what betrayal costs.
So I was handed over to the Mexican cartel boss, Carlos.
Six months later, when he kicked down that iron door, I was on my knees in a pool of blood, crawling toward his feet like a beaten dog.
I thought he was just another client.
I opened my mouth, revealing my shattered teeth, forcing sounds like grinding metal through vocal cords destroyed by industrial acid.
I mechanically unbuttoned my shirt, displaying the crisscrossing cigarette burns and brands covering my skin.
I knocked my forehead against his shoe, silently begging him not to use the hose on me today.
He stared at my mutilated right leg, at my vacant eyes, and finally understood—
That rose had rotted away on the cartel's operating table, along with our child.
What's left now is just a living corpse.

A month before my boyfriend Samuel and I were supposed to get married, he asked me to let another woman wear my wedding dress and move into my house.

It all started three months ago when his "old friend" Dahlia returned from overseas, supposedly with less than a year to live. A week ago, Samuel told me that Dahlia's dying wish was to become a bride before she passed away, and he was the chosen groom.

I kept saying no. But he brought it up every single day, insisting he had to help Dahlia because she had helped him when his company was in crisis three years ago, and he needed to fulfill her wish.

I was furious.

But in the end, I gave up the house and left him.

When my fiancé lets his new assistant put my name on the family purge list, he tells me it was only a joke. He expects me to apologize, come home, and keep standing beside him while everyone watches another woman take my place. So I let the order go through. I leave his family, his city, and the future he thought I would never dare abandon.

I broke the track record. My ex showed up with my best friend—his new fiancée—to humiliate me. Three years of betrayal, lies, and a career-ending crash that was never really an accident.
So I lied: told everyone I'm marrying Lorenzo Vitali, the man every driver fears and respects.
Problem? He heard everything. And he's not denying it.
Now my ex is spiraling, desperate to prove I'm still the broken girl he destroyed. My former best friend's perfect mask is cracking. And Lorenzo just stopped pretending this is fake.
They thought I'd crawl back. Instead, they're about to learn what happens when you push the wrong woman too far.

I took a submachine gun bullet for Mafia Don Vincenzo Lombardi. I drank poisoned wine for him and bore his heir. To the the entire syndicate, I was his loyal cleaner and lucky talisman.
But the moment he seized ultimate power, he brought her home—my "pure and fragile" adopted sister, Vanessa.
For her, Vincenzo shattered my knees, handed over my title as Donna, and turned my own son against me. He dismissed my broken heart, claiming I was being petty and that she was merely "joining the family."
Yet, the innocent Vanessa was a monster in disguise. She ruthlessly slit her own mother’s throat—the woman who raised me—and locked me in a sub-zero freezer.
When Vincenzo finally pried the heavy iron door open, there was no pity in his eyes. He only offered a cold command: crawl and beg his pregnant new Donna for forgiveness.
Wiping the bloody ice crystals from my lips, I looked at the man I had loved with my life, and rasped my final words: "Vincenzo... I'm dying."

My wolf was damaged the day I first shifted, when I was ten. I’ve healed slower than other wolves ever since, and a wolf like that can’t inherit a pack.

I grew up mocked and bullied for being the weak one.

My sister, Seraphina, shifted on the same day and came through it perfectly. She became the Alpha heir, the prodigy my parents poured everything into.

I thought they loved her more because she could carry the pack and I couldn’t. I took a rabid bear’s claws for her at thirteen. I was her sparring partner by day and her tutor by night, and I learned not to argue.

When Seraphina was accepted to the Royal Wolf Academy, the whole estate celebrated. My parents were going to escort her there themselves in a bulletproof Cadillac. But nobody cared that I’d been accepted to a college a thousand miles from home.

And today was the day I was leaving for school, too.

When I asked whether I should leave for the airport, my father told me to figure it out myself. My mother told me to clean up after my sister's party first.

I was done waiting for them to care. I decided to let them be the perfect family of three.

I already had a one-way ticket on my phone. By tonight, I would be gone from their lives.

In a decaying city apartment building, law-clerk Maya Carter is drawn to the sealed door of 5B—an address that should not exist, yet keeps receiving late-night deliveries and whispering back from the dark. Behind the rumors of a haunted unit lies a battered woman in hiding, and a chilling hunt led by men who weaponize authority, gaslight women living alone, and turn silence into a trap. Tense, claustrophobic, and razor-sharp, the story moves through dim hallways, yellow light under a door, bruised wrists, broken locks, and the fierce urgency of survival.

I used to think I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Married to my first love, Matteo Rossi—mafia boss—with an adorable son.

Until that afternoon. Luca was running a fever, whining for cake from that shop across town—a four-hour round trip.

I hesitated.

Matteo immediately chimed in: "Go ahead, babe. Don't worry, I got him."

I grabbed the car keys and turned. Before leaving, I glanced back—he was kneeling beside Luca's bed, his large hand gently stroking our son's burning forehead.

What a perfect fucking picture.

Until I heard that GODDAMN surveillance recording.

When the debate is evenly matched, it's called discourse.
When you drag a socially anxious mess who can barely string together a coherent sentence onto the judgment platform of Ivy League elites—that's public execution.
My name is Scarlett Hayes. Ten minutes ago, if anyone had told me I'd be standing in a two-thousand-seat auditorium, pointing at Arthur—the nation's debate king—and shredding his logic to ribbons, I would've told them to see a shrink.
But right now, that sketchy pink energy shot I slammed down is surging through my bloodstream like molten adrenaline.
And that logic engine—the one that's been dead for twenty years, paralyzed by fear—just roared back to life.

To save my girlfriend, I crippled my right leg, reducing myself to the lowest scum in the shelter for anyone to trample on.

In return, I watched her nestle in the leader’s arms, using perfume in disgust to mask her nausea at my festering wound. To prove her loyalty to her new lover, she coldly looked down at me and pressed the release switch, plunging my broken body into a waste pit dozens of meters deep.

Waiting below were thousands of pale, starving skeletal claws.

They thought they had simply discarded an eyesore, free to continue their comfortable lives up in the high tower. Little did they know, the Dark-Gold tier virus dormant within my ruined leg finally awakened, triggered by the scent of fresh blood.

When the endless zombie horde fell to their knees at my feet, letting out whimpers of absolute submission, I knew—it was time for me to rewrite the rules of survival in this wasteland.

The five of us were dragged into a twisted nightmare.
The game rules were absolute: Kill the Boss. All members survive. Total escape.
Luckily, we each spawned into the game with a supernatural perk.
Relying on our powers and our bond, we spent six grueling hours tearing the massive, horrific beast apart.
All we had to do was step into the extraction portal to wake up in Oregon.
My friends were screaming in victory, already planning our celebration at Voodoo Doughnuts.
Instead, I was frozen. My heart wasn't racing with adrenaline anymore; it was cold. Absolute zero.
Because my real perk tracked the Boss status.
Floating in the center of my vision, cutting through the shadows, were two lines of text that only I could see:BOSS STATUS: ALIVE.DISGUISED. The monster wasn't dead. It was standing right here, wearing the face of one of my best friends!

Married for years, I caught my husband in bed with another woman.
He had nothing at all once; it was only after being with me that he became the CEO of a company and made his fortune.
I asked for a divorce, and he flew into a rage and locked me in a dog cage.
But what he never saw coming was that I had long been ready to take my revenge.

The poor girl my family funded is known as a "clumsy sweetheart."
Before the CIF Volleyball Finals, she spiked my drink with banned stimulants.
I was reported for doping, stripped of my UCLA scholarship, permanently banned, and expelled in disgrace.
When I confronted her, she cried innocent tears:
"Scarlett, I just wanted you to have enough energy to win... I didn't know it was banned."
My boyfriend Jake wrapped his arms around her, glaring at me: "She was just trying to help! Why are you always so mean to her?"
Ruined and depressed, they came to "apologize" with bottles of hard liquor.
She fed me lethal meds when I was drunk, watching me bleed to death on the floor.
Her excuse? "I'm so silly, I mixed up the pill bottles..."
And my boyfriend testified to the police that I committed suicide out of shame.
Then, I open my eyes. I'm back to the day before the finals.

This was the thirty-third time I caught Vance and my stepsister stark naked in a hotel room.
 
He smashed a liquor bottle and drove the jagged glass toward his own groin.
 
Flying shards of glass sliced across my cheek.
 
He stared at me like I was a totally unreasonable lunatic. "Could you just let me go?"
 
Watching the blood instantly soak the bedsheets red, I felt a sudden, disorienting wave of blankness.
 
After all, during our most vicious standoff, I had floored the gas pedal and driven toward a cliff with my stepsister in the passenger seat just to force him to come home. His response? He dragged my mother in front of the car, standing right beside her, and sneered, asking if I still wanted him home.
 
Vance and I were like two beasts trapped in a colosseum, proving our existence by tearing each other apart. Neither of us would back down. Neither of us would let go.
 
But now, shielding my stepsister behind him, his eyes held nothing but profound exhaustion. "Don't hurt Lorna. I'm tired. Just let me go."
 
He was conceding. For my stepsister.
 
This tragic, belated surrender reduced my last five years of paranoia and obsession into an absolute joke.
 
My hand had been hidden inside my coat pocket the whole time. Now, my fingertips slowly relaxed their death grip on the crumpled ultrasound slip.
 
Staring at the blood-soaked bed and the way he protectively shielded her, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.
 
I truly didn't have the strength to play this game with him anymore. It was time to end it.

To save my dying brother, I signed a million-dollar contract: sleep with a comatose billionaire to secure an heir. My boyfriend swore it was just a harmless formality. One night. One permanently locked door. But as I nervously approached the mattress, the paralyzed heir suddenly opened his eyes. And he whispered a terrifying warning...

The floodwaters rushed into the basement, trapping my sister Isabella and me in the surging currents.

My brother, a former Navy SEAL, smashed through the window. Without a second of hesitation, he secured the rescue rope around Isabella.

"You're a good swimmer, figure your own way up! Isabella can't take the cold, I have to get her out first!"

He abandoned me and turned to hoist the rope, accidentally kicking away the only wooden crate keeping me afloat.

Once Isabella was pulled up, she reached down and slid the outer latch, deadlocking the only vent grate.

The floodwaters instantly swallowed me whole. Mud and debris violently surged into my mouth and nose. I was drowned alive.

My mom ran an exclusive underground fertility clinic. Her dark red serum smelled like rotting blood, yet the rich still lined up with massive checks for her "perfect designer embryos."
I’d watch her lock desperate young surrogates into a soundproof room. A few minutes later, the whole floor would shake.
Strangely, when the girls stumbled back out—looking entirely drained and aged by years—they would weep and kiss my mom’s hands in gratitude.
It never made sense to me.
Until the day I saw a pitch-black mass frantically clawing just beneath a surrogate's flat stomach.
I finally knew what kind of "embryos" my mom was actually planting inside them.

I gave him seventeen chances to marry me, yet he eagerly toasts with his new flame, showers her with gifts, and retreats to hotels with her.
He has forgotten that I do not have pierced ears, presenting me annually with earrings I can never wear; he has overlooked our seven-year anniversary but vividly remembers the one-year anniversary of his new lover's employment.
Seventeen promises of marriage, each one an empty promise; seven years of devoted affection, ultimately reduced to a mere laughingstock.
So I flew straight to his worst nightmare—Mexico.
And let him burn in the regret he never earned.

I died on my birthday.

While kidnappers shattered my limbs and violated me to death, my family was throwing a grand party for my sister Chloe—yes, we shared the same birthday, but only hers was worth celebrating.

I called my father for help. He sneered and hung up: "Stop using this pathetic kidnapping stunt to ruin Chloe's birthday."

I called my fiancé Mark. He said with disgust: "If you're going to die, do it somewhere far away."

In the final second before the flames consumed me, I finally understood—

I was never loved in this family.

And now that I'm truly dead, now that they've discovered Chloe hired those men to kill me, now that the truth has been exposed to the world...

Will they regret it?

Or will they, as always, continue to favor Chloe and blame everything on me—the dead one?

I found a black lace panty under my husband's car. Black lace. Definitely not mine.
Three months. That's how long he'd been telling everyone he was done with herm, telling his mom, telling our friends, telling me. I actually believed him. I thought we were finally okay.
Then I found the dash cam footage from the night before, and I heard him tell his buddy he'd never once felt anything real with me. Not in ten years. Not once.
So yeah. He came home. He just never really left her.
I didn't scream. I didn't confront him. Found her address off his phone.Brought a cake and a bottle of wine like I actually gave a damn.
Had my assistant livestream the whole thing.
The second that door opened, half a million people watched me hand him that cake.
"Surprise. Bet you weren't expecting this."

On the night of Reeve’s birthday, I drove to his family’s coastal estate with a premium ribeye and a bottle of Pinot Noir, ready to give him a romantic surprise.
But the rug was shifted three inches, and a single drop of dark blood hid in the floorboards. Before I could run, a gun barrel pressed against the back of my head.
The man was impeccably dressed and terrifyingly calm. Upstairs in my bathtub lay the corpse of his pregnant wife.
He ordered me to help him dispose of the body and cover up the crime. My only thought was to stall until my husband got home.
That is, until he spoke—and revealed the root of this massacre. Everything was my husband's fault.

My world fell apart the day I got scratched by my best friend Coralie’s cat, and she handed me that "miracle" ointment.
Rosalind, the mentor I had respected for years, suddenly turned on me, cutting all ties in a fit of rage that landed her in the hospital.
My mother, Adrienne, transformed overnight, screaming abuse and kicking me out of her house.
And Dorian, my fiancé, publicly humiliated me at our engagement party, viciously calling off the wedding.
Driven to despair, I wandered into the street and was nearly killed by a car. In the shocking clarity of that near-death moment, I finally realized the twisted truth behind everyone’s sudden, violent disgust for me...

I died in an abandoned cabin in the pack's old lumberyard.
Wolfsbane burned through my veins. Pure silver chains bit into my wrists, charring the flesh down to the bone.
The news alarmed my husband, Alistair, the Alpha of the Riven Pack. Standing over my corpse, he couldn't fathom who would torture a woman so ruthlessly on his territory. Enraged, he swore to slaughter the killer himself.
He didn't know it was me.
I had been missing for seven days. Even with everyone telling him I was gone and something wasn't right, he insisted I was just throwing a fit.
That was until his mistress, Sylvie, ran to him in tears, clutching her cheek. She claimed I had publicly slapped her and thrown my late mother's necklace in her face.
Furious, he pulled out his phone to call me, demanding I crawl back and apologize immediately.
Instead, his Beta's trembling voice came through the speaker: "Alpha, we found this phone... in the abandoned cabin at the old lumberyard."

I'm a blind girl, and I've always been close with the old lady living next door.
One day, I caught the smell of blood coming from her apartment.
Worried something had happened to her, I pushed her door open—and instantly realized my mistake.
I had walked right into a murder scene.
The killer was still there.
I had to take a chance.
Betting that my pale, sightless eyes could fool those blood-crazed ones.
I stepped into the blood-soaked room, smiled toward where the body lay, and called out,
"Ma'am, the store has oranges on sale—I brought some over for you..."

I was accused by my beloved Alpha, Kael, of "spiritual mark plagiarism," and he even added the "soul-burning curse" to the blazing fire. He whispered, "This is all for our future."

Before I jumped off the cliff, I finally understood — this was all just to awaken my bloodline power.

After the fall, the blood moon cracked open, and black light enveloped me. To my shock, I was reborn seven days before the trial, with the Shadow Queen bloodline awakening within me.

Upon my return, I found Kael still making “spirit herb soup” for me every day. I secretly poured the soup into a flowerpot, and the flower instantly withered. The doubts in my heart grew clearer.

At the Moonlight Spring, I caught him and Lyra in an intimate moment. When I confronted him, Kael said, "I got close to her for you." He said it so casually, yet my heart was shattered like glass.

In this entangled web of love and betrayal, can I succeed in my revenge?

The day I was reborn, I finally saw the truth about my so-called “savior.”
He wasn’t my Fate Mate. He was a nightmare wearing a smile.
In my last life, he reached out a gentle hand to “rescue” me—only to chain me down as a breeding tool and a free maid. In the end, even our own son despised me, sneering that I was worthless because I couldn’t hand over one million. I died alone on the streets, abandoned and humiliated.
This time, at the same crossroads, I ran into him again. His voice was as soft as ever:
“Miss, you look weak. Let me help you.”
But the moment I heard it, my blood turned to ice. My wolf roared inside me—Don’t let him touch you!
“Don’t touch me!” I stumbled back, trembling but unyielding.
He only smiled, but in his eyes shadows stirred.
“Darling, don’t push yourself. Being late for work won’t kill you.”
But I knew better. If I let him close, if I let him chain me again—my fate would replay in the same nightmare loop.
Not this time.
In this life, I’ll rip away the mask.

"I didn’t drug your drink," I said, my voice shaking in the dark.

"Liar," he spat. "You're just like your precious Stewart family. Deception runs in your blood, doesn't it?"

"Believe what you want," I fired back, lifting my chin. "I'm done with all of this. Done with you. I’m not going back anymore!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant , and he stepped closer, backing me against the wall until I could feel his breath on my face.

"Go ahead and leave," he growled. "But I'll always find you Elena. You're mine."


Elena, married to Reginald through her parents' ruthless machinations, naively believed she could wait for true love, only to be met with his betrayal with his first love Vivian.

Reginald, the ruthless heir to the Vanderbilt empire, thought he could control everything. Until Elena decided on divorce and disappeared, his control twisted into something he couldn't believe.

Five years later, Elena returns with twins in tow, and a bombshell revelation stuns everyone - she is the mysterious CEO of the Phoenix Group, rising from nothing to Vanderbilt's top rival in just two years.

With Reginald claiming her as his and the twins revealed as his, Elena must decide: give in to him or keep fighting for her freedom.

Walking in on her husband with her own sister should have destroyed her. But Steffy doesn't fall apart-she slaps him and walks out.
What does break her is the DNA test her sister waves in her face. Not a Willson. Not their blood. Not their daughter.
Steffy has lived twenty-seven years in a family that may not be hers, while her sister claws for an inheritance she believes is rightfully hers alone.
But the deeper Steffy digs into the truth of who she really is, the more the wrong questions start getting answered.
Because if that DNA test was wrong about her... then who in this family is actually who they claim to be?

"...I gave your wedding dress to Elise." Julian said.
"What...Did you say?" I asked, just to be sure I didn't hear wrong.
"Elise," he said again, "I gave her the dress."
"And why would you even do that?" I snapped in anger.
"We've been talking, okay?" He rubbed his temples, trying to explain "She told me she wants her last wish to be getting married before she passes to me. So...I thought this, as the right thing to do."
The words exploded out of me like a volcano.
"How could you do something like this without asking me first? That's my dress, Julian! For our wedding, that's in two days!"


For many years I gave up my dreams and my youth to bring Julian back from the edge of death. We were legally bound in a secret ceremony, waiting for the day he could finally stand beside me at the altar.
But on the day of our wedding, the dress I made for myself was on my stepsister, and the man I called my husband was leading her to the priest.
With nothing left but a broken heart, I made a deal with the one man Julian feared, Sebastian Hale.
He is cold, dangerous, and the most powerful billionaire in the city. He offers me protection, wealth, and revenge, but in his world nothing is free.

I hated Kane Ravenwood before I ever spoke to him.

The ruthless captain of the Ravens Hockey Team ruined my brother’s career and turned our family into campus gossip. Everyone worships him like a king, but I know the monster beneath the crown.

Arrogant. Violent. Untouchable.

So when he suddenly asks me to fake date him to save his reputation after a scandal, I should’ve said no.

Instead, I made a deal with the devil.

Now he’s everywhere.
Touching me. Watching me. Controlling who talks to me.
Calling me like he already owns me.

The worst part?

The fake relationship doesn’t feel fake anymore.

Because behind his cruel smirk and bloodstained knuckles is a broken boy hiding dangerous secrets… secrets that somehow pull me closer instead of pushing me away.

But Kane has enemies.
And when his obsession with me turns violent, I realize something terrifying:

I’m no longer pretending to be the hockey captain’s girlfriend.

I’ve become his weakness.

And he’ll destroy anyone who tries to take me away.

My throat tightens until it fucking burns. Jax’s face flashes right behind my eyelids.

Keep her safe, Reid. Watch out for her. Don't touch her.

The promise I’d made him felt like a heavy iron chain wrapping around my throat, choking the life out of me. I had sworn on everything I cared about that I wouldn't cross this line.

She was off-limits. She was his little sister.

"I'm right outside, Chlo. I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "I’ll sit right by the door. Just let me up."

"You always push me away," she whispered, and a single, fresh tear leaked from the corner of her eye, tracking slowly down into her hair. "You look at me like you want me, and then you treat me like I'm a mistake. It hurts so fucking bad, Reid. It hurts worse than the stalker. It hurts worse than anything."

Something inside my chest didn't just crack…it completely shattered. The tight, agonizing restraint I’d been holding onto for weeks snapped like a brittle twig.

Seeing her cry because of me, seeing her believe for even a second that she wasn't wanted, absolutely demolished my sanity.

"You think I don't want you?" I growled, the filter completely dropping from my voice. My elbows bent, dropping my weight until my chest was brushing hers, my face inches from her lips. "I am going out of my fucking mind every second I look at you. I lie awake in the next room listening to you breathe, wanting to tear down the wall between us. It's killing me, Chloe."

Her breath hitched, her fingers digging desperately into the skin of my shoulders. "Then stop fighting it. Please. Just... love me tonight. I need to feel safe. I need to feel you."

And just like that... To hell with the promise. To hell with Jax. To hell with the consequences tomorrow. Right now, the only thing that existed in the entire universe was the girl underneath me.

I leaned down and slammed my mouth against hers.


Reid Vance's best friend trusted him with his little sister. That was his first mistake.

Chloe Dupont is a reality TV star, a walking scandal, and the one girl Reid has hated since high school.

She's also his best friend's sister.

When Jax leaves the country and begs Reid to let Chloe stay in his apartment, Reid agrees for one reason only—He owes him.

Reid has two rules: Don't kill her and don't fuck her.

Well, he breaks both.

One drunken night turns into a secret neither of them can stop.
Chloe gets under his skin, into his head, and eventually, into his bed.

But Chloe comes with paparazzi, scandals, and more drama than Reid needs while he's fighting to protect his position as hockey captain and secure his future in the NHL.

Then Chloe's private photos are leaked, and a huge payment suddenly appears in Reid's bank account.

And the evidence makes him look like the villain who sold his best friend's sister for money.

Now Chloe hates him. His best friend wants to kill him. And his hockey career is hanging by a thread.

“August, I don’t work for you anymore,” she said, voice steady.
“I’m not obligated to listen to you.”
A pause.
Then,
“Oh, but you will.”
He stepped forward.
She stepped back.
Again.
Until her back hit the wall.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away.
August placed both hands on either side of her.
Blocking her in completely.
No space left. No escape.
“You’re not my employee,” he said quietly.
A beat.
“But for the next 90 days…”
“…I own you.”

Weeks before his wedding, August Thorne discovers something impossible, he is already legally married.
To Genesis Michaelson, his former personal assistant who vanished three months ago without a trace.
There is no memory of the ceremony. Only fragments of a night in Las Vegas that don’t fully add up.
When the court refuses to annul the marriage due to time passed, they are left with one option: divorce.
But even that comes with a condition.
A 90-day consideration period in which they must live together as husband and wife.
What begins as a drunken mistake turns into a forced arrangement between two people who can barely stand each other, yet cannot stay away.
Tension rises. Clashes become constant, while external forces close in, determined to keep them apart and destroy Genesis in the process.
But someone is lying about what happened that night in Vegas.
And the truth runs deeper than either of them realizes, closer to home, and far more destructive than the marriage itself
Will they survive this game of lies and deceit and fall in love?

The video of Anthony, Janet’s fiancé, having sex with another woman was played again and again during her wedding. While Anthony who had betrayed Janet continued to talk sweetly to her as if nothing had happened. She ran away from the wedding because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with such a scum.
She went to the bar to get drunk. Wanting to have a one-night stand with prostitute for , she accidentally went to the wrong room.
After waking up, she left the only five dollars in her pocket and sneaked away...

It was five years later when she showed up in her hometown again. She brought her lovely son back there, ready to start a new life.
When she joined in the new company, she unexpectedly provoked her sexy CEO!


After taking a shower, Javier wore a white bathrobe, exposing his sexy, muscular chest.
What an alluring picture of a beautiful boy coming out of the bath!
"You are bewitching."He looked at Janet, his voice was extremely seductive.
She did have a good impression of her boss, after all, no one can refuse a young and charming CEO.
At that moment, she was really flustered...

Tara was married to a scheming husband who is a wolf. She is unaware of her husband's identity. He hates her for being an ordinary woman
On their second anniversary, he sold her to Gaston for a one-night stand. She had sex with Gaston thinking it was Chad. Something changed in her and started demanding sex from her husband because of the way Gaston handled her.
She got pregnant and her husband hated her more and threw abusive words at her and started showing off her girlfriend who is her mate.

Five years of trying. And then my husband threw divorce papers at me… like I was the problem.

I blamed myself until I found the file he hid.

My womb was ruined because of him and he knew the whole time.

He killed our baby. He destroyed my chance to ever become a mother then he tried to throw me away.

But life isn’t done with me.

Because the man I hated, my sworn enemy, the powerful and dangerous Alistair Vance Sterling is back. And he wants me by his side.

My husband broke me.
My past came back for me.
And now?

I’m done begging. It’s my turn to burn everything down.

My Sister-in-Law Smashed My $350,000 Agate Bracelet, So I Canceled Her Brother's $98 Million Deal

Vanessa Liang lifted my red agate bracelet above her head in front of the whole Hale family.

It hit the marble floor with a clean crack.

My mother-in-law kept cracking sunflower seeds. "Broken things ward off bad luck," Margaret Hale said, smiling as if she had just made a toast.

My father-in-law did not even put down his tea.

My husband, Daniel Hale, lowered his eyes to his phone and pretended he had seen nothing.

I crouched, picked up the largest piece, and slipped it into my coat pocket.

Then I opened my phone, logged into Meridian Holdings' approval system, and tapped the final authorization page.

Vanessa was still laughing. "What, Claire? Going to post it online and beg for sympathy?"

Her brother's call came in before I answered. The ringtone screamed through the dining room again and again.

When she saw Victor Liang's name on the screen, the smile froze on her face.

Eight times. That's how many boyfriends my best friend Sera has "tested" for me. Eight times she's proven they weren't good enough by stealing them away with her perfect smile and fake concern.
"I'm just looking out for you, Lia," she always says. "If he really loved you, he wouldn't be tempted by me."
But this time is different. This time, it's Ryan—my boss, my almost-something, the first man who's ever made me believe I might be worth loving. When Sera comes back to town asking about my love life, I panic and lie. There's no one, I tell her. Nothing happening at all.
Big mistake.
Now she's got her sights set on him, and I'm watching her work her magic all over again. The late-night texts, the red lace lingerie, the hotel room invitation. I should just accept it like I always do. Let her prove once again that I'm not worth fighting for.
But I'm done being the girl who hands over everything she wants. This time, I'm fighting back.

My bestie Isolde and I were lured to a resort in another country.
Crescent Bay, a place that turned She-wolves into property.
Any wolf with enough money could have us for the night. That was the arrangement. That was what we were worth, once we were in.
When my husband Cael broke through the gates with a unit of Hargrove Pack warriors, I was in the back room counting the night's take. Top earner three months running.
Isolde was in the basement. Brain-dead. Pregnant. The machines were the only reason her heart was still beating.
Hargrove Pack put up half a million dollars for the name of whoever had trafficked us.
I was the only one who knew. I said nothing.
Vivienne — Cael's mother, Isolde's Luna — got down on her knees in front of me and begged. I closed my eyes.
Pack enforcers questioned me three times. I gave them the same answer every time, which was no answer at all.
Then Cael ran out of patience. He called for a witch to extract my memories and put them in front of everyone who had ever known me.

My daughter's wolf has never woken. Until her first shift, one dose a season is all that keeps it alive. And I brew that dose myself and send it to the supply hall under the healers' guild seal.
This season, my husband's mistress took it from us at the supply hall and fed it to her own daughter in front of forty wolves. Then she pressed my girl's palm onto a silver bar, to prove we were the thieves.
"Save your tears for my man," she said. "Captain Roark Fenn."
That's my husband's name.
Neither of them knows what I did in the war. By moonrise, the whole pack will.

I thought I was driving into my mating ceremony. Instead, Calder's mother met the car with a tray — a silver collar lined with spikes, and a rusty pincer for pulling out my sharpest fang. Blackbriar rules, she said. Every Luna wears one. And Calder, the man who never once raised his voice at me back in the city, just stood there like all of this was perfectly reasonable. So I told the driver to turn around. That's when the logs came down across the road. My phone had no signal. Willa was bleeding. And Calder was crouched on the hood of my car, telling me I could walk into that pack hall on my own, or be carried in. He'd done his homework on me — my money, my bloodline, my dowry. All of it, except one thing. The bone whistle around my neck. And what happens when I blow it.

I used to believe that marrying my fated mate David was the only light in my dim life—he once swore he would only ever love me. But on our first Christmas after the wedding, he left me alone to face the cold stares at the family gathering, while he was in his collection room, down on one knee, slipping a diamond ring onto my younger sister Sarah’s finger.
I stood there with my palms slick with cold sweat, waiting for his explanation, but all I got was his angry roar: “How can you be jealous of your own sister?”
Later I found out that he’d already fallen for Sarah the moment he saw her at our wedding. All those so‑called “comforting words” were a lie; what was real were the secret dates he planned with her.
His talk about a “fake divorce” to help Sarah escape an arranged mating was a lie; what was real was kicking me aside so Sarah could become his Luna.

On the birthday I shared with my twin sister, my family threw her a party—and called my absence a tantrum.
None of them knew I was lying in the cellar beneath their feet.
With broken fingers, I'd sent my husband the one word he swore would bring him running from anywhere: Lighthouse. He called it a guilt trip and told me to be at the party by seven.
So they toasted my sister. They tossed my place card in the trash. They shoved my gift onto a closet shelf without opening it.
By the time they finally lifted the lid, it was far too late.

My wife is the city's renowned "Community Angel." She donates every single cent of her high salary to the poor, all to buy herself a saintly reputation.
Meanwhile, as her husband, I spend my days rolling beneath cars in a factory, covered in grease, juggling four credit cards just to keep our large family afloat.
My parents-in-law survive on the expensive, imported life-saving meds I pay for, yet they constantly mock me for being a powerless nobody;
My own children attend private schools on my dime, only to look at me with disgust and call me an embarrassment;
And my wife? Dressed in her high-end couture, she looks down at me and condescendingly urges, "For the sake of the poor children, why don't you get another part-time job and just endure it a little longer?"
Looking at this den of parasites sucking the life out of me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me.
I didn't argue. I silently put away my overdue bills, packed my bags, and completely vanished from this twisted household.
Later, at the highly anticipated Annual Charity Gala, in front of the entire city, I presented her with an ultimate "gift"—

I have everything in my life all figured out. My job in a Manhattan empire is perfect, allowing me to maintain a quiet and organized existence. After a childhood filled with painful memories, abuse, and a useless mother, this sense of security is a necessity for me. But along with it comes a problem that could disrupt everything I thought I needed.

My promotion places me in close proximity to Jacob Carrero, a young, incredibly attractive, and playboy billionaire with a notorious reputation. I now find myself stuck as his right-hand man, spending every waking moment with him. It doesn't take long for me to realize that he's exactly the type of person who could drive me crazy, and not in a good way. We're like chalk and cheese. He's impulsive, confident, laid-back, dominant, and enjoys casual sex and dating without much thought. I, on the other hand, am compulsive, reserved, and cautious.

Despite his carefree attitude, Jacob is the only one who can break through my composed exterior. He's not phased by my closed-off demeanor and cool manners. But as much as I may want to, letting him into my heart is another thing entirely. My painful past has made me wary of men, and I have no desire to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.

However, Jacob Carrero is not someone who takes no for an answer. He wants to be more than just another person seeing my façade, who is learning how to break through my defenses.

What should I do?

The door kicked in like it was being hit by a train. “Where is she NOW!” He growled asserting his dominance. How did he find me?! I hid under the covers, afraid of what he would do if no one answered. Afraid he would carry out what he said to me, thinking I didn’t hear. Aggressive, irrational, and dominant for something that he didn’t know he had until I first shifted. Is he going to rip me apart…. or rip off my clothes.

The grandson of the Wolf King cursed to wait for his mate for his brutality and arrogance, offended the Lady Moon. A single comment was taken offense, causing him to wait for her to literally be born.