8251 Book(s) Related to netflix against the ice true story

Five years after I walked away from Marcus, the Alpha of the Stonecliff Pack, I received an invitation to celebrate the birth of his heir.
Just as the guard reached for my invitation, Marcus's voice sounded behind me.
"Don't bother. Let her in."
He strode past without a backward glance, already heading toward his guests.
I handed the invitation to the guard anyway and waited until he'd checked every line before stepping inside.
Marcus was waiting just beyond the doors, wearing a smug smile.
"Say whatever you want. You still came back."
He tilted his head, looking me over with undisguised satisfaction.
"You've been lurking around Stonecliff all this time, haven't you? How else would you have known about tonight?"
I only smiled and kept my silence.
Five years ago, Marcus had traded me for the Alpha's crown and marked my closest friend, Celeste, right under my nose. That was the night I'd sworn never to have anything to do with him again.
I tried to walk past him, but he caught my wrist. His thumb brushed my skin as he lowered his voice.
"I'm glad you came back. Behave yourself around Celeste and my pup, and I might still have a place for you."
I yanked my hand free and looked past him at the two high-backed chairs positioned side by side in the center of the banquet hall.
One belonged to Rowan, the Alpha King of Silverpine and the last heir of the royal Ashford bloodline.
The other was reserved for me, his Luna Queen.

Three years ago, my fiancé Asher stole my project achievements for his white moonlight Chloe and abandoned me cruelly.
Three years later, he returned arrogantly, ordering me to tidy up my villa, accept his mistress, and humble myself to apologize. He even humiliated me with a mistress contract.
A vicious supporting female system suddenly bound to me, forcing me to fawn on Asher, yield to Chloe, and end up miserable and jealous according to the fixed script.
But I refused to submit to fate.
I only want a peaceful and free life with my husband and my daughter.
I have never been a side character in anyone’s story. I am my own sole protagonist.

I built my husband Evan's Hollywood acting empire alongside him, and we kept our marriage hidden from the public. I once believed our bond was unbreakable. Until I checked his car's navigation history.
For an entire year, every Wednesday night, my movie-star husband lied about working overnight film shoots. When I followed the GPS route to its destination, I found the apartment of his rival actress, Leah.
Then I found more lies. It was only after I vanished completely that Evan realized what he had lost. But by then, I was no longer the woman he left behind.
Some secrets exposed by GPS can never be erased. Some women can never be found again.

For two years my mother told the whole town that my sister Zoe was in a hospital in Switzerland.
She shut the heat off in my room with a wrench, because Zoe's ward is kept at sixty-five degrees. My dinner was always cold, because Zoe can't keep solid food down. I never got a birthday cake, because Zoe hasn't had one since she was seventeen.
The day I won the state 1600, she pulled the medal off my neck in the parking lot and didn't say one word the whole drive home. Then she walked me down to the basement, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under her heel until the ribbon came apart. She took a picture of it lying there. I'll send this to your sister. So she knows her little sister is keeping her company.
She came back down that night with a pair of garden shears. I fought her. She got a fistful of my hair, put my head over her knee, and cut it all off, because chemo took Zoe's.
Then I found something down there my mother never meant me to see.
My sister isn't where she said. And she isn't sick.

I was once known as "The Divine Hand," the youngest Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery in history.

I didn't just perform surgeries, I invented them. However, after a high-profile operation on my own mentor went tragically wrong, leaving him in a vegetative state, my mother made me swear a blood oath.

“Your hands bring both life and ruin. Never touch a scalpel again, or the guilt will consume you forever.”

I traded my surgical scrubs for a floral apron. I married Lucian, a famous business tycoon my mother had selected.

For five years, I spent my days in the kitchen, meticulously preparing meals that were precisely calibrated medicinal formulas that cured his heart murmur and made him the top-performing executive in the city.

However, on our fifth anniversary, Lucian didn't bring flowers or gifts. Instead, he threw the divorce papers on my face with Leslie, the glamorous "Star Surgeon" of the year, by his side, her hands wrapped around his arms like she owned him.

Lucian sneered, "Lesley operates on kings and CEOs. You? You can't even look at a drop of blood without fainting. You’re a liability to my social standing."

“Sign the papers and I'll give you two hundred dollars every month as your monthly allowance. Considering your lifestyle, that's more than you ever need.” He mocked.

I stared at the divorce papers in my hands. This was what he was paying me for being a submissive wife.

"I’ll sign," I said, "and I’ll let you keep the house and the stocks. But only if Lesley can correctly identify the three hidden toxins I’ve neutralized in your body over the last five years using only the meals you mocked me for cooking.”

“If she’s the 'genius' you claim, surely she can diagnose the man she's sleeping with.”

Becky and I had been best friends since elementary school—inseparable until we both got into this top university and became roommates.
We used to lie in our dorm beds, staring at the ceiling, and swear an oath: when we got married, the gap between our weddings would never exceed one week.
I waited for Steven for four full years.
From freshman year to senior spring, I ghostwrote his papers, nursed his drunk stomach, and endured the rotating cast of girls who always seemed to need him.
Until the night Becky got proposed to—when the whole crowd egged Steven on to drop a knee too, he flung my hand away without a second thought, all because Claire, some sophomore, let out a shriek.
"Not now, Rachel. Claire's hurt. Can you not make this about you for once?"
That was all he left me with before he scooped her up and melted into the crowd.
What he didn't know was that there would never be a "not now" again.
In seven days, I'd be walking down the aisle in a wedding dress, just as promised.
Only the groom—wouldn't be him.

Every herb in Moonspring, I had coaxed to life myself, drop by drop, with a healer's touch.
But to my mate, Rourke, the place was just a backyard for his best friend Boone to use and wreck however he pleased.
I had put up with it for a long time.
I put up with it until Boone, planning his own mating ceremony, trampled half a year of my work into the mud right in front of me. I put up with it until Rourke forced me to my knees through our mate mark, just so his friends wouldn't see him lose face.
In three days, Boone would hold the grandest mating ceremony the pack had ever seen, right here in Moonspring.
And I looked at the land transfer I had just agreed to, and said a single word.

My beast companions are in the middle of my medicinal soak when a soft, dramatic little "ow" drifts in from outside.

Vex, my wolfkin companion, drops my leg. Brom, the bearkin, jerks his hand and a fortune's worth of elixir spills into the water.

They crash through the floor-to-ceiling window and bolt outside without a single glance back — all for some ordinary girl.

I'm still staring at the broken glass when a stream of glowing blue text pops up out of nowhere.

[The main character Ivy literally fake-tripped in the garden and these two idiots jumped out a window for her!]
[Honestly, the original side character Lillia had it so rough. Backstabbed by her own companions, dies a miserable death, and they end up in Ivy's entourage…]
[And she never even figures out what's happening. Just suffers through the whole thing without a clue.]

I read through all of it, and one thought slowly rises: seriously?

If my companions won't behave, just get new ones. Simple.

I go straight to my mom, and before I've even finished talking, she's already pulling me toward the door.

"Any beast that turns on its master isn't worth keeping. Come on, baby — let's go pick you out some new ones. Mom's paying, so make it the most expensive ones they've got."

On my wedding day, I ran, still in my wedding dress not because I wanted to, but because my mother had a car accident.
By the time I got to the hospital, Lucia Vitale, Finn’s mother, threw a five-million-dollar check at me and told me to leave her son.
Before I could even respond, the door was kicked open.
Finn stood in the doorway.
He raised his phone and played a forged recording.
“My mom needs the money… I know I’m not good enough for him… I’ll leave him…”
He didn’t listen to my explanation.
He dragged me out of the hospital room, shoved me into a car, and took me to the Vitale estate on Long Island.
The room he locked me in had bars on the windows.
There were listening devices hidden in the walls.
“You’re my wife,” he said coldly.
“What’s the difference between a wife and a prisoner?”
For six months, I endured his imprisonment and endured him bringing women to the room next to mine.
The women he brought home.
Every night, their moans echoed through the walls.
Meanwhile, Finn was on a private island, celebrating his mistress Isabella Moretti’s birthday.
A forty-million-dollar island.
A heart lit up in the sky by drones.
Isabella said,“he never loved you. You were just a mistake.”
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on.
But I knew one thing: escape, or face death.

During routine rounds, I never gave Linus Crewe a second thought. Nineteen years old, diagnosed with persistent hallucinatory disorder, just another trust fund kid tossed into the psych ward like garbage by his own family.
But that day, he locked eyes with me and claimed that the moment his skin touched someone else's, he could see their deepest, darkest secrets.
I scoffed. As a female doctor who married into money, harbored a thirst for revenge, and kept a secret lover on the side, someone seeing through my facade was my ultimate nightmare.
I thought he was just playing mind games.
Until he recounted, word for word, things even my husband didn't know. He just smiled and said: Then tell me, Dr. Hollister... why is your heart racing when you look at me?

This was the most miserable Christmas I had ever experienced.
On Christmas Eve night, my husband brought his mistress home and demanded that I, his pregnant wife, leave with nothing.
On this day, I lost my husband and also lost the child in my womb...

They pulled my husband Beckett’s car out of the Avery River at four in the morning.
I was sitting in the reception area of the Ardenvale police station, having waited all night. Everyone thought I was just the pathetic wife—the one who had been humiliated at her mother-in-law’s birthday banquet, went home early, and panicked when her husband never returned.
No one knew that from the moment I dialed 911, this was exactly the news I had been waiting for.
He was dead. And I was the one who made it happen.

On the night my grandmother died, my husband Kael came home trailing blood.
His leather motorcycle jacket was soaked dark red, yet he flashed a savage grin: "I wiped the floor with those bastards tonight!"
For three years, he had treated our home as nothing more than a pit stop between reckless street races.
I’d finally had enough. "After the funeral, we're getting a divorce."
Before the words fully left my mouth, my phone rang. It was his riding partner, Lunn, his voice choking with sobs: "Sera... Kael drove off the cliff tonight. They only recovered bloody pieces of his helmet!"
But the "dead man" was standing right in front of me...

I am a princess of the deep sea. For love, I abandoned my crown and used ocean magic to help him rise from a penniless sailor to a duke of immense wealth.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, he slapped me in front of all the guests, tore the Ocean Crown from my head to place it on his mistress, and ripped away my reverse scales: "I'm sick of this freakish marriage to a monster!" Blood flowed down the coral cuts, and my unborn child miscarried in the humiliation.

The moment the first reverse scale fell from my chest, I forgot our first kiss. At the same time, his three gold-laden ships mysteriously sank on the windless sea.

The Abyssal Pact has been activated: seven reverse scales correspond to seven memories. With each scale that falls, I forget him a little more, while he loses all the wealth he gained through me.

I was once the "Abyss Sovereign" who made the entire dark world tremble.

To protect her, I willingly buried my true name and spent five years as a humble mechanic in a wealthy family.

I swallowed countless cold stares and humiliations, seeking only a moment of peace.

But these fools, for the sake of family interests, dared to push her to the brink of destruction!

Since retreat only invites further aggression, I have no choice but to don once more that blood-stained crown.

When my steel torrent crashed through the manor gates, those privileged elites who once trampled me underfoot could only tremble desperately in the mud!

My husband often made me suffer for the sake of my younger sister, even divorcing me because of her.
My parents gave all their love to my sister and neglected me.
My husband and parents even had my sister perform surgery on me.
But they didn't know that my sister had no idea how to perform surgery.
It didn't matter though, because I no longer cared.
On Christmas Day, when they were celebrating, they finally remembered me.
But I was already dead.

For a hundred years, I used my blood to suppress Grant’s Dragon Frenzy, helping him rise to become Head of the Gold Dragon Clan.

The day of his Ascension Ceremony was also supposed to be the day of our Bonding Ceremony.

Instead, in front of guests from every supernatural race, he named Lacey, a Light Fae, as his Consort. He said I could stay at his side, but only as his Personal Guard, without so much as a title.

I swallowed my pride and begged him to reconsider.

In return, the dragon army razed the wolves’ territory and slaughtered nearly my entire pack.

As the final drops of blood drained from my body, I saw Lacey nestled in Grant’s arms, laughing without a care in the world.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Grant’s Ascension Ceremony.

This time, I wanted to see how long he could keep his throne without me.

For five years, I had turned Preston Tanner from a broke kid who could barely afford tuition into one of Silicon Valley's hottest young founders.
I thought we would do exactly what we had promised back in that garage—take our AI healthcare startup public, ring the opening bell together, and get married.
Until today.
At the product launch that would determine whether we landed our Series A, Preston stood before the press and credited the core algorithm patent I had spent seventy-two sleepless hours developing to a girl who couldn't even write Python.
"Sloane, you're already my fiancée," he said. "Willow needs this patent to strengthen her green-card application."
Staring at his utterly self-righteous face, I felt sick.
I didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, he had rotted from the inside out.
And if he was rotten, it was time to throw him away.

Seven years of deep affection, expectations with a pregnant belly, and all I got was his betrayal in marriage and false promises. I gambled my youth and sincerity, only to end up with an absurd scam. After waking up, we owe each other nothing and will have no more ties.

I've been to four weddings. I never made it through a single one.
Not because I didn't love enough. Not because they weren't good enough. It was because every time — right at the moment I was supposed to say I do — my parents would appear on cue, fall apart on cue, and burn everything to the ground on cue.
For years I thought they hated me. Thought they'd given all their love to my dead sister, Claudia, and had nothing left. Then my brother-in-law said something that cracked me open: Any one of those three men — if you'd married him, you wouldn't be alive today.
So which is it? Were they protecting me, or destroying me?

Four years ago, Giovanni dumped me in front of everyone at an upscale restaurant. Two weeks later, he was engaged to Rosanna. I made a fool of myself begging on his doorstep, became the laughingstock of Ferro City.
Four years later, he runs into me at Casa Valentino, assumes I'm destitute, and offers me a job as a cleaner for him.
What he doesn't know is that the plainly dressed woman standing before him is the wife of Don Alessandro Valentino—the man the entire underworld bows to.

I was reborn on the exact night Uncle Nico was dosed with a aphrodisiac.
This time, I didn't act as his cure. Instead, I made the call to his true love.
In my past life, I fell desperately in love with my uncle, a mafia boss with no blood ties to me.
When I found out he had been drugged, I completely ignored his orders to call Cecilia and offered myself to him instead.
A month later, I ended up pregnant.
Uncle Nico was forced by the family elders to marry me.
But on our wedding day, his precious Cecilia was kidnapped and murdered by a rival cartel while vacationing abroad.
Right before she died, she dialed Nico’s number one hundred and eighty-eight times.
He missed every single call because he was standing at the altar with me.
Afterward, Nicolo just stared at those 188 missed calls in dead silence.
He waited hidden in his grief until the day I went into labor.
Then, he dragged me down into the estate's wine cellar and locked the steel door.
I begged him to take me to a hospital.
He just stood on the other side, a cruel, twisted smile on his face, watching me suffocate and bleed out from the agony of a blocked birth.
Right before I died, his cold voice echoed in my ears.
"If you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have been forced to marry you. I wouldn't have missed Cece's calls. Now pay for it with your life."
Then I opened my eyes, and I was back on the night he was drugged.

Since I was ten, he told me to call him brother. But brothers don't look at you like that.
My life had only Daniel Wilson in it. He was my guardian, my savior, my world.
"Call me brother," he said, but he forbade me from dating anyone else. He kept me in his manor like a bird in a gilded cage. He promised that when I turned twenty-one, the title of "sister" would change to "wife."
I waited. I obeyed. I loved him with a devotion that bordered on obsession.
But on my twenty-first birthday, he brought her home.
"Julie, meet Lena. She's... special to me."
He introduced his childhood crush to me, his "sister," while holding her hand. The way he looked at her was soft, gentle—the way he used to look at me before she arrived.
"You're just a foster sister," he reminded me coldly when I cried. "Don't cross the line."
The line? He blurred the lines for twelve years! He made me dependent on him, made me believe we were destined, only to discard me when the "real" owner of his heart returned.
Fine. If I'm just a sister, then I'll leave.
But why is he chasing me now, begging me to come back, saying he can't sleep without me in the house?
"I'm not your sister anymore, Daniel. And I'm certainly not your wife."

Carlisle said that he would marry me when he became the godfather.
Gritting my teeth through the pain, I dug the bullet out of my arm and bandaged the wound out of habit. By the time I finished the whole process, I was already drenched in cold sweat from the agony.
The last candidate had been secretly taken care of by me ten minutes ago.
I returned to the dessert shop and hid the ring I had spent over a month designing inside a strawberry mousse cake.
Carlisle loves the cakes I make by hand the most. Tonight, I’m going to propose to him—I can’t wait for him to marry me anymore.
"Boss, one strawberry mousse cake, please make it quick."
I looked up at the customer who had just walked in and immediately lowered my head, afraid she might recognize me.
It was my stepsister, Karina.
"We’re closed. No cakes today."
Karina pointed at the cake I had just packed. "Isn’t there one right here? I’ll take this one. I’ll pay double."
I was about to refuse when Karina’s phone rang. "Sweetheart, why aren’t you back yet? Our son is getting impatient."
Karina put the money on the counter, grabbed the cake, and walked away. I didn’t stop her.
Because I saw the person on her video call—it was my fiancé, Carlisle.

"I, Dominic Thorne, hereby reject you as my fated mate." Those words shattered my soul in front of the entire pack. Eighteen years old, and I still couldn't complete a full shift—the "defective reject" everyone loved to mock. But what nobody knew was the monster sleeping inside me. When a stranger with golden eyes found me bleeding in the forest and whispered, "You're not broken. You're something the world hasn't seen in a thousand years," I realized my rejection was only the beginning. Something ancient is waking up inside me. And it's hungry.

For 300 days, Wendy Bailey believed she was building a family. An orphan who finally found love, she swallowed her husband's "pregnancy vitamins" like sacred vows—until she overheard the truth.

She wasn't a wife. She was a womb.

Aaron Hill's real plan: extract his heir, then bury her in a mental institution—clearing the throne of Mrs. Hill for his precious first love, Aria.

"Once she's on the delivery table, she dies after giving birth."

He wanted a son. He wanted her gone.

But Wendy already dialed the clinic. The abortion is scheduled.

Now the bleeding orphan he treats like a dog is about to teach the Hill dynasty a lesson: a vessel can shatter—and take everything down with it.

How much will it cost Aaron when he realizes he destroyed the only woman who ever truly loved him?

Revenge is coming. And it's wearing his ring.

For three years, the man I met online has called me Mistress. I've never seen his face.

Tonight, a bullet tears through my shoulder at my mafia family's welcome dinner. I hide in a linen closet, but the hitman follows me. A silver tag slips from under his shirt: Vee's Good Boy. I gave it to him. He doesn't know the woman behind the door is the one he's been begging to meet.

I text him an order. His gun vanishes from the doorway. Then his footsteps come back.

Elroy has severe OCD. In the ten years we've been together, he's never allowed me to eat in his car.
On our tenth anniversary, we made plans to watch the stars together.
But just as I reached the mountaintop, my phone rang—it was him.
"Something came up at work. I can't make it tonight. You go ahead and enjoy the view."
The moment he hung up, I saw his female classmate's post about returning to the country.
Catalina was sitting in his passenger seat, holding a half-eaten piece of cake in her hands.
【Someone was afraid I'd get hungry coming back so late, so he specially brought me this little cake～】
Another picture showed Catalina's shoes—still on—planted firmly on the passenger seat.
【He says I'm the only exception to his OCD～ I can do whatever I want in his car, hehe.】
I looked up at the twinkling stars above me, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.
This was the tenth time he'd abandoned me.
Every single anniversary without fail, this "female classmate" of his would show up.
I once tried to gently tell him: "I don't want to be interrupted like this every time."
Elroy looked at me with displeasure. "Interrupted? Catalina is my friend. Can you not be so petty?"
The cold wind howled across the mountaintop. Catalina's words stuck in my heart like a thorn, stinging until my eyes grew wet.
After ten years, I'm done with this relationship.

I would often find myself staring into my son Leon's eyes, lost in thought.
One, a deep azure blue, was inherited from his father. The other, however, was amber.
I couldn't understand it. While Leon's lineage is indeed mixed, his other eye should have been silver—the mark of my bloodline, the symbol of the royal werewolf lineage.
Yet it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.
Then, by chance, I came across an ancient book in my husband Carlisle's study. It detailed the hereditary rules of eye color for the royal werewolf line:
Regardless of which race they intermarry with, the direct descendants of the royal werewolves will always inherit at least one distinctive eye.
This meant that a son I bore would definitely have silver pupils.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I shared my fear—that we might have brought home the wrong child—with Carlisle.
He flew into a rage, snatched the book from my hands, and threw it into the fireplace.
"Selene, are you doubting my fidelity? Or suspecting that our son isn't your own? If Leon knew you doubted him, his heart would be shattered."
Carlisle stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Watching his retreating figure, my heart grew cold, piece by piece.
His reaction confirmed my worst fear, the one I desperately wanted to deny.
With the full moon just seven days away, I decided to abandon the plan of taking Leon back to the royal werewolf clan.

“End the ceremony,” Prince Kael ordered, his cloak wrapped around another woman’s shoulders.

Our six-year-old son stood beneath the moon glass, wings trembling, the royal binding already burning under his skin. If the ritual stopped now, Rowan could be scarred for life.

Kael did not even look at him.

So I picked up the sacred blade and pressed it to the bond mark in my palm.

“You wanted freedom,” I said. “Take it.”

"Stay in the apartment," he said, straightening his tie as I fixed his collar. "I'll be back tonight." Then he walked out the door — straight to his wedding. What he didn't know was that my flight was already booked.
For three years I was his canary: locked in a penthouse, the only woman he let close when he bled, forgotten the moment another woman entered the room. I watched him let her wipe the blood from his face. I lost our child alone on a cold floor. I apologized to the woman who destroyed my mother's watch.
I was done waiting.
When the bells of Saint Patrick's rang out across Manhattan, he was welcoming his bride — and I finally flew out of my cage.

"Brielle, I need money... My bone cancer is worse. Without treatment, I won't make it past next month."

For Cole's words, I gave up everything—my billionaire father, my inheritance, my name. I became a crime scene cleaner, the most degrading job in New York.

Twenty hours a day, I scrubbed blood and rotting flesh off apartment floors. I even sold my own blood. All to save the man I loved.

One million dollars. Finally, I had it.

I rushed to the five-star hotel, clutching the warm check in my trembling hands. Pushed open the presidential suite door.

And froze.

Cole—healthy, glowing, dressed in an expensive suit—knelt before Delilah, New York's newest socialite. A diamond ring glittered between his fingers.

"Babe, that corpse-smelling idiot sent more money today," he laughed. "That bag you wanted? Let's go buy it right now."

The check fell from my hands.

Something inside me shattered.

And something darker took its place.

Following Aunt Helen’s sudden death and the exhausting funeral arrangements, strange things began happening at home.
A lingering warmth on an empty sofa. Faint footsteps echoing in the hallway late at night.
I couldn't shake the creeping certainty that a third person was hiding in the house with my husband and me.
My husband brushed it off, insisting it was nothing more than grief and severe insomnia playing tricks on my mind, and told me not to overthink it.
Then, one morning, he walked through the front door, briefcase in hand, his eyes heavy from an obvious all-nighter. "The institute's data was a total disaster," he explained with a tired sigh. "I was stuck at the lab all night."
I froze, completely at a loss.
"But you came home last night," I stared at him, my voice trembling. "We were in bed, making love for half the night."
He frowned, looking at me with the cold, clinical detachment of a doctor examining a patient. "Maeve, I didn't set foot in this house last night. You need to stop imagining things..."

Terminal. One month, maybe less.
I folded the report and put it in my bag. The doctor asked if there was family I could call. I told him there wasn't.
My husband rang while I was crouched against the hospital wall, waiting for the pain to pass. I could hear waves behind his voice. He didn't ask what the doctor said. He wanted to know why his money hadn't come through yet. His first love needed it for her art show.
So I sent him all of it. My savings, and the last of what my mother left me. Ten years, settled in one transfer.
Then my legs went, and a pair of freezing hands caught me before I hit the ground.
The pain stopped the second he touched me.
"Your kind calls us reapers. Give me your soul, and I'll keep the pain off you until the end."
Weston took one look at him and decided I'd hired an actor to make him jealous.
He thinks I'm trying to win him back.

The last thing I did before I died was lick dew off a rusted pipe.
Ninety days earlier, my fiancé Bastien promised he'd come back for me. He said three months in the Sahara would teach me not to be jealous of Posey—the girl I'd pulled from a refugee camp and raised as my own sister.
He didn't know the water ran out in the first week. He didn't know bandits broke my bones. He didn't care enough to find out.
While I lay dying on a rotting bed with a shattered leg, he was in Manhattan, sliding a pink diamond onto Posey's finger.
I died alone. But I didn't stay gone.
My soul followed a stolen necklace across the ocean, right back to his penthouse—just in time for the engagement party, the champagne toast, and the moment my body arrived at the door.

My name is Charles Cole, a blind lactation therapist.
Of course, apart from pretending to be blind, all my skills are genuine.
Ophelia sat on the bed and slowly took off her top right in front of me, her beautiful figure revealing its spring allure under the golden warm sunlight.
“Mr. Cole, let's begin!”
I nodded, reaching forward with both hands, yet I didn't dare show the slightest unusual expression on my face.
The reason was simple: Ophelia's husband, Russell, was standing coldly right behind me at that moment.

In her past life, she gave everything to her brothers, but all they saw was the fake heiress. They even went as far as turning her life into a living hell for the sake of that imposter, leaving her to die in agony.

Reborn and unyielding, she cut all ties with her family and set her sights on revenge.

Want her to return to the family?

Not a chance! She’s already had a whirlwind marriage and transferred her name to a disabled tycoon’s registry!

Want her to call them "brother"?

As if!

Let them cry, let them regret, let them beg for forgiveness—she’d just laugh in their faces!

Let them suffer, let them kneel, let their world fall apart—she’d be front row, popcorn in hand.

I once believed that my inability to bear children was my original sin.
So I endured my Alpha husband Ethan’s excessive favoritism toward our“old friend,” Lyra,
and swallowed the growing hatred of our adopted son, Lucas.

Until our eighth marking anniversary, when I obtained irrefutable proof—
Confirmed: Lyra is the biological mother of Lucas.

That very night, Lyra sent me a “family portrait” of the three of them.

Letter by letter, I typed my reply:
May the Moon Goddess bless you.

Ethan kicked the door open in fury.
Lucas called me a “bad mom.”

In that moment, my heart died—and with it came a strange calm.

I took out the long-sealed mate bond termination agreement and placed it on the table.

“I’ve already signed the last page,” I said evenly. “If you have any questions, my lawyer will contact you.”

When Alpha Asher’s first love, Daphne, started putting on a show again, I wasn’t surprised.
Instead, I quietly sat beside his best friend, Alpha Lycan.
When they weren’t around, Alpha Lycan and I ended up sleeping together.
As I sank into waves of heated pain, I couldn’t help but think—no wonder people love affairs.
Because of a party game, Alpha Asher was forced to post on Instagram: “I’ll only ever love Daphne.”
I told him I wanted to break the bond.
“All because of a silly post?”
“Yes. Hurry up—I’m getting married to someone else. Don’t waste my time.”

“One million dollars!”. A deep voice bid making everywhere to go silent.


Just a day after Ashley turned eighteen, her parents sold her off to a gangster in order to pay their debt. The gangster decided to resell her in an audition where she was brought for a million dollars.

Ashley was brought by Xander Cage the don of the biggest mafia organization in the state. Xander needed a wife in order to present himself as a responsible man to him big time client.

Ashely found herself thrown into the ruthless world of the mafia where love is impossible. Will she be able to fit into the world or will she run done the hills. Find out more as you read.

Dear readers, this novel is coming to an end soon. I highly recommend another fantastic story of the same genre:


I’d appreciate all your support, thank you so much!
From first crush to wedding vows, George Capulet and I had been inseparable. But in our seventh year of marriage, he began an affair with his secretary.

On my birthday, he took her on vacation. On our anniversary, he brought her to our home and made love to her in our bed...

Heartbroken, I tricked him into signing divorce papers.

George remained unconcerned, convinced I would never leave him.

His deceptions continued until the day the divorce was finalized. I threw the papers in his face: "George Capulet, from this moment on, get out of my life!"

Only then did panic flood his eyes as he begged me to stay.

When his calls bombarded my phone later that night, it wasn't me who answered, but my new boyfriend Julian.

"Don't you know," Julian chuckled into the receiver, "that a proper ex-boyfriend should be as quiet as the dead?"

George seethed through gritted teeth: "Put her on the phone!"

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

Julian dropped a gentle kiss on my sleeping form nestled against him. "She's exhausted. She just fell asleep."

Emma Anderson has everything in her life worked out. She has her perfect job in a Manhattan empire allowing her to live a quiet and organised safe existence. A necessity to her, after a childhood filled with bad memories, abuse, and a mother who was less than useless. But, with it comes a problem, one that could derail everything she thought she needed in her life. Her promotion sends her straight into the close employment of young, gorgeous, playboy billionaire, Jacob Carrero with his formidable reputation for being a player. Stuck as his right-hand man, every waking moment of every single day, she realises he is exactly the type of person who could drive her crazy, and not in a good way. Like chalk and cheese, he is everything she's not. Compulsive, confident, laid back, dominant and fun, with a seriously laid back attitude to casual sex and dating. Jake is the only one with an ability to steamroll over her manicured ice maiden exterior, who is not phased by the closed in demeanour and cool manners, but as much as she wants to, letting him in is another thing entirely. A past that made her man wary and no desire to ever let one close enough to hurt her again, Jacob Carrero has his work cut out. He is not someone who takes NO for an answer and will have to learn how to break through if he wants more than the mask she shows the world. Jake needs to show her that even some one like him can change when that one girl that matters breaks through. Love-able sexy characters and deep emotional topics.

In everyone's eyes, Bertha and Derek had the wrong marriage. Married for three years, Bertha thought she would melt Derek's icy heart but she was wrong. Derek's heart only goes out to Laura - his ex-girlfriend. Derek treats Bertha poorly. One day, she saw her husband having an affair with Laura. Unable to continue anymore, she decided to divorce Derek. She will not waste her youth on a heartless man, someone who has trampled on her heart many times. After the divorce, Bertha returned to her parents' home, becoming the heir to the fortune left by her parents. No one knows her true identity. A life like a queen awaits her. As for Derek, he thought that Bertha's life would be miserable after the divorce until one day, he found Bertha and said. “I want to remarry with you. What are conditions?" Hearing Derek's words, Bertha just smirked, looking at him with disdain.

He was powerful.
He was terrifying.
He was huge.
He had the whole world under his feet, the whole world within his grasp—but to him, she was his world, she meant everything.
He was feared by all, but it only mattered that she was scared of him.
He was worshipped by billions, yet he worshipped the very ground she walked on.
His calloused hands were capable of ripping people apart, yet they only held her with tenderness and possessiveness.
His claws ripped out throats, yet they only extended towards her to play with her curls.
"For there will be one born from chaos, forged from the ruins and the ashes of the ages. He will be the chosen one, the one to host the darkness. He will be engraved with the lines of the goddesses' touch and the fates will bow to him. But he will be the one to bring forth the carnage, that will end the world's that began under his feet. His light, her darkness. Every darkness needs a light but his will be lost in the times. Betrothed to the darkness, one with it. The cycle will go on till the darkness finds the light, to be one eclipse. For at the end, blood will flow."

She gave him her heart, her trust, and even her family's company.
In return, he took her father's life - and tried to steal her kidney for her cousin.
When Freya dies on the cold operating table, she wakes up... reborn - in another so-called useless orphan girl's body.
But death left her with more than scars-
Now, whispers of the future echo in her mind, guiding her revenge...
Surrounded by greedy relatives and deadly schemes, she's ready to fight back.
What she didn't expect?
To accidentally fall into the bed of Leander-the nation's most feared, most unattainable billionaire. He's cold, ruthless, untouchable.
But after that one night... he wants her.
Her body. Her revenge. Her hand in marriage.
Now, they're not just husband and wife by contract. They're partners in revenge.

“I never let go,” he says to her, voice deep and intoxicating. “After you, there’ll be no one else. I’m going to want all of you. Every part of you, Sophia.”
~
Alexander Thorne is vice—danger wrapped in billions, immorality, and a smile that feels like sin. And unfortunately for Sophia Rose, he’s the man she’s been arranged to marry.
Sophia may be young, spoiled, and rich, but she’s done having her life dictated for her. With her father’s crumbling empire and society waiting to feast on their downfall, she’s got only two escape routes: RUN or be SOLD.
No one warned her that Alexander would become her weakness.
She shouldn’t want a man like him. Marrying him shouldn’t even be an option. But, Alexander is so deliciously irresistible. He makes it his mission to claw his way into her heart, her thoughts, her fears.
Every private moment with him leaves her breathless, wanting more, and tangled deeper in his hands.
By the time she realizes that he’s the thorn that will ruin her, she’s far too trapped to run.
~
Content Warning: This book contains mature and sensitive themes, including sexual sins, exploitation, and manipulation, addiction, trauma, violence, and emotional struggles. These topics are portrayed with honesty and care. Characters wrestle with serious issues on their journey to healing and light. Intimate scenes are sensual but not explicit. Please, read with discernment.

Anna Green walks in on her boyfriend cheating, only to realize she's not the only witness. A mysterious man stands beside her, watching the same scene unfold. He leans in and murmurs, "Want revenge?"

That night, she loses a boyfriend and picks up a husband.

What begins as a deal between strangers soon turns into something far more complicated. She thought it was just about benefits. He gave her exclusive love.

Now, tangled in a marriage she never expected, Anna wonders who's really in control, especially when the man she married refuses to play by the rules.

She was an S-rank spy — cold, brilliant, unstoppable. Then her own people betrayed her, and she died.
She woke up as the family idiot everyone laughed at.
Scarred face. Malnourished. Dead last in school. Abused by her stepmother, framed by her sister, mocked by the entire campus.
The original owner of this body could take it. She couldn't.
Call her ugly? She formulates her own skincare remedy — and stuns the room.
Call her stupid? Top university presidents come knocking at her door. Legendary doctors beg for her secret formulas. Global superstars chase her down for a collaboration.
All she wanted was a quiet, ordinary life this time around.
Instead, her covers keep blowing, and without even trying, she's climbed back to the top of the world.
Meanwhile, the most mysterious young lord in the city opens her classified file from her past life. A slow smile crosses his face.
"This so-called idiot… is rather interesting."

Evelyn Parker's life takes a shocking turn when she finds herself pregnant—while her fiancé lies in a coma, and she has no idea who the father is. Branded as immoral and shunned by society, Evelyn faces relentless judgment and humiliation. Just when she hits her lowest point, a mysterious man steps in.

He gives her everything: a luxurious home, the finest clothes and food, and endless wealth. But he never shows his face. Evelyn convinces herself that as long as she carries his child, he will eventually come forward. She waits, only to have her newborn taken from her arms, and the man vanishes without a trace.

Years later, he returns, cornering her with a familiar smirk and a commanding presence. "We're not strangers," he says. "You've already had my child. Maybe it's time I remind you how it happened." With danger, desire, and secrets colliding, Evelyn must uncover the truth behind her mysterious lover—and the power he holds over her heart.

He rejected and humiliated her for being a nobody - not knowing he would soon be begging her for mercy.
Suddenly she becomes royalty - the Lost princess found.

Sebastian rejected Cindy and cast aside their fated bond, choosing another to be his Luna.But then fate had other things for him. The man who once held all the power, is brought to his knees.With his life and his wolf hanging by a thread, fate turns cruelly ironic. The very woman he broke now holds the power to save him.

Sebastian’s voice trembled as he reached for her.
“Please… Cindy…Lisa,” he begged. “You have to help me. I’m your mate.”
Her gaze remained steady, unyielding.
“You will address me properly,” she replied calmly.
“I am Your Highness to you. Only those who stood by me when I was nothing earn the right to call me by my name.”

Will Cindy offer mercy to the man who denied her worth?