1067 Book(s) Related to no me dejes ir novela turca cast

They bred me to be sold--a doll, a bargain, a tool with a crown.
When they gave me to Alric, the werewolf Alpha every soldier fears, I expected chains.
Instead, he saw me. Chose me. Made me feel, for the first time in twenty years, like I was worth something more than my price.
Then my father showed me what he truly is--eyes burning red, hands that can stop a heart between one breath and the next.
Savage. Inhuman. Utterly beyond anything I was ever prepared for.
He saved me. I don't doubt that.
But he is a wolf. I am human.
No amount of tenderness changes what lives underneath his skin--or the fact that the moon goddess never made us for each other.
He reaches for me like I'm something worth keeping.
I'm just not sure I'm brave enough to believe it.
Because what do you do when the only person who ever made you feel alive is the one person you were never meant to love?

Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation.
Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart.
Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly.


Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned.
She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby.


Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself.
But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on?
To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his.


Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother?
How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?

Alex has never known peace. Between a sick younger brother, parents whose love curdled into daily war, and a cheating ex who turned violent, she learned early that survival means never trusting too deeply and never hoping too much.
When one night of terror drives her into the path of three dangerous men who look like sin sculpted in flesh, her world shifts in ways she never could have imagined.
Reed, Rhett, and Rhys.
Three brothers with eyes like night and a power that hums in the air around them. They rule Denver's underground, their names whispered with equal parts reverence and fear.
Until Alex collides with their world.
What should have ended in disaster becomes something far worse. When her family is forced to relocate for her grandfather's funeral, Alex uncovers the unthinkable truth. The same three men who saved her, the ones who etched fear and forbidden desire into her mind, are her step-uncles.
Now she is trapped inside their mansion, surrounded by luxury that feels more like a cage than a refuge. The house is thick with tension. Reed's gaze is sharp and challenging. Rhys's words brush too close to danger. Rhett's quiet attention carries a weight she does not want to examine too closely.
They are older, powerful, and each of them carries a darkness that draws her in despite everything she knows she should resist.
Beneath the cold marble walls and glittering wealth lie secrets her father refuses to explain. Secrets about why he left this family years ago and what kind of empire his half-brothers truly built.
The Alcatraz brothers are not just men. They are predators in tailored suits, bound by blood and sin, ruling the underworld and loyal only to each other.

"The sooner I leave, the sooner I will return to execute judgment on those who have hurt me and also to take back what is mine," I said to my uncle with a firm and determined tone.
She loved him with all her heart; she gave up everything for him; she left her uncle's company, which she was supposed to inherit after her studies; she became a housewife; all these things in order to please him; but what did she get in return?
A divorce paper was thrown right at her face the same day she gave birth, and as if that wasn't enough, he confiscated her child, sending her away with nothing.
Five years later, he regrets his actions and wants her back, but it's already too late. The lady he divorced five years ago is not the same again; she's now one of the richest billionaires in the country, and now all she wants is to make the man who hurt her pay, make him lose everything he had worked so hard for, and at last reclaim her son.
Will she succeed in her revenge mission, or will she end up falling for him again?

She loved him with all her heart; she gave up everything for him; she left her uncle's company, which she was supposed to inherit after her studies; she became a housewife; all these things in order to please him; but what did she get in return? A divorce paper was thrown right at her face the same day she gave birth, and as if that wasn't enough, he confiscated her child, sending her away with nothing. Five years later, he regrets his actions and wants her back, but it's already too late. The lady he divorced five years ago is not the same again; she's now one of the richest billionaires in the country, and now all she wants is to make the man who hurt her pay, make him lose everything he had worked so hard for, and at last reclaim her son. Will she succeed in her revenge mission, or will she end up falling for him again?

"There is no us. There hasn't been for six years."
"You dropped divorce papers at my feet, Aidan. In front of cameras and everyone who mattered. Your mistress called me trash, and you stood there and said nothing."
"He is not yours, Aidan. He has a father. If I had been pregnant with your child back then, I would have gotten rid of it. You don't deserve anything from me."
Six years ago, Evelyn believed she had the perfect marriage.
On the night Aidan Smith celebrated his greatest achievement, she was ready to reveal the happiest news of her life. She was pregnant with his child.
Instead, she was publicly humiliated.
Aidan believed a cruel lie and chose his mistress over the wife who had loved him for years. In front of cameras and high society, he ended their marriage without knowing he was leaving behind a child who would change everything.
Heartbroken, Evelyn disappeared and started over.
Six years later, she returns as Evelyn Cole, a world renowned fashion designer and billionaire CEO. She built an empire, raised her son alone, and became the woman no one can look down on anymore.
Then fate brings her back into Aidan's life.
When the truth finally comes out, Aidan realizes the woman he abandoned was the greatest treasure he ever lost.
He wants his ex wife back.
But Evelyn Cole no longer belongs to him. And this time... he will be the one begging for her love.

She thought it was nothing more than a one-night mistake — not knowing she had long since become an obsession he couldn't shake.

Emily was just an ordinary woman, yet she stumbled into Evan's world by chance. He was cold, domineering, and untouchable — and yet, time and again, he lost control in front of her. He said he needed to restrain himself, yet he appeared at her most vulnerable moments again and again. He said he felt nothing for her, yet in the instant she trembled and broke into tears, he gently pressed his forehead against hers — "I'll admit it. What I feel for you is different."

But who, exactly, was the "you" he spoke of?

Her name, her body, every sound she made — he said they were identical to someone else's.

Was she a substitute? Or the one he truly wanted, buried somewhere deep inside him?

As desire and secrets became entangled, as the closeness of flesh could no longer silence the questions in her heart, Emily began to realize — this man's reasons for drawing near to her may never have been impulse alone, not from the very beginning.

"Are you really Emily?"

"She was MINE before. How could I have known she would find another man so quickly?"
Dresden Wade was pretty sure the goddess was punishing him. Married for half a decade to his childhood sweetheart without a child, he is desperate for a chance to fight his wrongs when he sees her again.
His TRUE mate. The woman he scorned and humiliated all those years ago.
Except that now, she is standing holding hands with another Alpha.
Mara Reid wants nothing to do with the surly, arrogant Alpha that used to be her mate. He had made the earlier parts of her adulthood traumatic to say the least.
So why did meeting him again feel like coming home?
Why did her traitorous heart skip whenever he called her name?

I thought I was a powerless human in a school full of witches, heirs, and monsters.
Until a black magician tried to kill me.
Until my blood awakened.
Until the boy with phoenix fire knelt bleeding in my arms—and I brought him back from death.
Now everyone wants my secret.
And someone wants me dead.

Seren Han was just another broke student eating instant noodles and mocking bad romance webnovels online—until a ridiculous accident killed her mid-rant.

When she wakes up, it’s inside the very story she was criticizing. Worse, she’s not the heroine destined for love, but Seren Nightwind, the villainess omega fated for rejection and disgrace at the Mate Ceremony.

And then comes the System.

Quests. Penalties. Ridiculous missions like “Laugh at the heroine” and “Seduce the Alpha.”

Every command pushes her closer to ruin, but refusing carries consequences she can’t ignore.

Trapped between the Moon Goddess’s script and the System’s threats, Seren has only one question:

How do you survive when the story itself wants you to lose?

When the zombie apocalypse hit, my elder brother shoved me into a horde of the undead. Now, I've been reborn exactly five days before the end of the world, and he's trying to scam me out of my winning lottery ticket with a beat-up old ring. What he doesn't know is that this ring is a genuine pocket dimension artifact. He thinks he's pulling the ultimate con, completely unaware that I'm going to use this very relic to forge my own post-apocalyptic empire. This time, I'm going to make them pay back every last thing they owe me.

In high school, my ex only dated me because she needed a dependable errand boy.

I believed it. I tutored her, fixed her grades, rewrote her papers, and cleaned up every mess she made.

Then I overheard her telling her friend, “He’s good at studying. That’s it. Dating him is already me being generous.”

At graduation, she dumped me without hesitation.

Years later, I became the CEO of a public company.

Her company was collapsing—cooked numbers, broken cash flow, investors pulling out—and she needed one deal to survive.

She didn’t know who I was.

She scraped my car in the garage, then warned me not to cling to her, saying the CEO she came to meet was way out of my league.

Then the boardroom door opened. She looked up and saw me in the seat at the head of the table.

She thought I’d use this to get revenge.

I didn’t. I just opened her file and said, “You may begin.”

I found my husband's vasectomy certificate while sorting medical bills. The procedure was done a year ago. But I was six months pregnant now.

I stared at the date on the paper and my hand just... stopped. I kept checking it again and again, but it was still the same. I was freaking out. I looked down at my bump showing through this baggy sweater, and my hands started shaking.

I got in my car and drove straight to my husband's private club. I needed answers about this, now.

My father wanted to hand me over to Adrian Kingsley, the heir everyone in his Manhattan circle was desperate to please. I ran away with my boyfriend instead.
Then my boyfriend was injured in a hit-and-run. We had no money, and Adrian came to our rescue.
We were grateful. So when my father was diagnosed with a serious illness, I worked up the courage to ask Adrian for help again.
He took a drag on his cigarette and watched me through the smoke.
"Spend the night with me."

After one night with the man I'd secretly loved, I told him how I felt.
His response was simple. "What made you think sleeping with me would make me want you?"
I didn't say another word. I just walked out.
I changed my number, moved to another city, and cut him out of my life completely.
Then my roommate, Vanessa, was hospitalized with a high fever.
Her boyfriend drove through the night to see her — the kind of man who could afford to just drop everything.
When he walked into the hospital room, I froze.
It was Adrian Cole.
The man I had spent two years trying to forget.
Except he looked at me without recognition.
"Thanks for taking care of her," he said. "Let me add you. I'll send you whatever you spent."
He had no idea who I was.
And somehow, that hurt more than his rejection ever had.

As a wolf princess, I gave up my beast core, my dignity, and three years of life for my mate’s throne. I walked willingly into the lion clan’s darkest kennel camp, enduring beastly torture and dog-like degradation. I survived on rot and poison, clinging to false hope. Until I returned and learned the bitter truth: my wolf mate destroyed me with his own hands. The war was fake, and my hell was his deliberate choice.

The best deal I ever made in my life was selling my blood to a vampire.

I was a broke, permanently starving werewolf who needed ten times the food a normal person did just to feel full.

Evan was a vampire heir with a blood allergy, the kind where the smell alone made him sick and dizzy. Somehow his life was worse than mine.

Except my blood didn't trigger it. He never reacted to me.

So he pulled out his card. "I'll keep you fed. You let me feed off you."

This wasn't a vampire. This was a walking meal ticket.

For the next three years, he was the perfect meal buddy. Five meals a day, and he never once complained. Once I finished and let out a satisfied burp, it was his turn, just a small sip, nothing more.

Then, the year we graduated, he got a call from his family. He had to fly back to Europe that same night.

Before he left, I figured I'd thank him for three years of generosity. I pulled my collar aside.

"Go ahead, take more this time. Consider it a going-away present."

He hesitated, then leaned in.

But this time, once his teeth were in, he couldn't stop.

By the time he pulled back, horrified at himself, I already had a hand pressed to my neck, and everything went dark.

"Sloane, where there's smoke, there's fire. If you're really clean, why is it only burning you?"
In my last life, when those fabricated hotel records went viral on the company Slack, I scrambled to explain. I cried. I begged.
What I got was a suspension, a blacklist, and a foster mother who died on a hospital bed because I could no longer pay for her meds.
The person who started it all? Walked right over my corpse into a partnership.
Then I opened my eyes—and I was back. Three days before the promotion list dropped.
I stared at the pixelated "explicit screenshot" on my screen, and I didn't cry. Didn't rage.
I just smiled and hit screen record.
This time, I'm not proving I'm clean.
I'm proving they're guilty.

For six years, I sold my body to underground clinics as a human lab rat to cure my son's heart failure and pay off my husband's debts.

Today, my biological brother kicked away the medicine I bought with half my life.

"Lucas was never sick. We faked the medical records to teach you a lesson for upsetting Virginia."

My husband coldly chimed in:

"I never went bankrupt either."

Even the son I bled to birth stabbed my arm, screaming, "A bloody monster like you doesn't deserve to be my mom!"

I finally realized my entire life was a meticulously crafted scam.

With my organs rapidly failing and only ten days left to live, I stepped onto the edge of the balcony.

"You're right," I smiled at my husband and brother, watching the color completely drain from their faces. "Six years of my life isn't enough to apologize to her."

"So I'll pay you with my corpse."

Six hundred years into our marriage, I found out my husband had a son.

I had ended my border patrol three days early, wanting to surprise Valerius.

Not far away, Valerius was channeling his exclusive magic, teaching a boy how to weave the darkness.

"Dad! I did it!" The boy looked up. His bright eyes were a near-perfect reflection of Valerius's.

My mind instantly went blank.

Dad?

A woman walked over.

She draped a small cloak over the boy's shoulders, her hand brushing against Valerius's chest with practiced familiarity. "Valeri, the wind is picking up. He'll catch a cold now that he's sweating."

Valerius naturally wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "My fault."

The image of them huddled together like a picture-perfect family was an ice-tipped needle driven straight into my eyes.

The sharp sting made my breath hitch in my throat.

The man who had sworn before the Senate to love me for all eternity—the man bound to me by a Soul Blood Pact—had already betrayed me!

A sudden, agonizing cramp seized my lower abdomen.

It was an old wound from six centuries ago.

When the Sunfire Curse nearly reduced Valerius to ashes, I had offered my high-born pure blood and my womb as a sacrifice to forcibly block the hex for him.

The price was permanent infertility, along with an excruciating backlash of pain I had to endure every single month.

Back then, Valerius had held me, his eyes red and tear-filled. "I don't want any children! I would rather lose my seat in the Senate than ever betray you!"

Yet the scene before me crushed those words into fine dust.

I stumbled backward, my chest feeling as though it had been ripped open by bare hands.

I was terrified I'd lose control and rush over to scream at him.

Worse yet, in the face of this cozy, happy family of three, I was afraid I'd look like a pathetic, unwanted outsider.

Suffocation gripped my throat. I turned and fled.

As the tyrant ruling the underworld, Victor was ruthless and bloodthirsty, showing no mercy to anyone.

Women who tried to climb into his bed usually didn’t even get a whole corpse, yet I was the only one he kept by his side.

I’d taken a poisoned bullet for him, and nearly bled to death on the rotting floor of a safe house giving birth to his son.

He once kissed the bullet scar on my shoulder and promised me that when he sat on the godfather’s throne, I would be his only family matriarch.

But the moment he slipped on that black onyx ring symbolizing power, he carried another woman into the master bedroom of the manor.

I burst for the door, and he ordered his bodyguards to pin me outside, forcing me to listen to their sounds of passion all night long.

I banged on the door like a madwoman, so he slammed my paintbrush-wielding right hand in the heavy oak doorframe and crushed it mercilessly.

I finally caved when he threatened to cut off my mother’s hospital treatment.

My husband's first love was in trouble.
When the news came, I was lying on the operating table.
Dr. Miller put down his scalpel and said to Dr. Johnson, "I'll leave my wife's surgery to you."

"If I don’t go now, I might regret it for the rest of my life."

With that, he turned and walked away.
Watching my husband's retreating figure, I couldn't hold back—tears fell.
The next second, the cold blade of a scalpel touched my skin.

Dr. Johnson spoke calmly, "Why the tears? With me here, you'll be fine."

The moment I gave up wasn't when I found out my husband was cheating. It was when I heard my ten-year-old daughter laugh into the phone and say, "Mom's so clueless. She has no idea about Dad and Summer."

Ten years ago, I was a top biomedical researcher, making six figures. I gave it all up for his promotion and our newborn daughter. Ten years later, the perfect marriage I traded my career and youth for turned out to be nothing but an elaborate lie.

He called me his safe haven, then got in our bed with his mistress and discussed how to keep me in the dark.

This time, I'm not going to cry or make a scene. I'm going to quietly gather my evidence and call the lab director I've turned down seven times.

My fiancée's father called me a stray dog, worse than trash.
My rival forced me to crawl between his legs and trampled me into the mud.
They all thought I was just a piece of trash to be trampled on at will.
But they didn't know that I endured humiliation and hardship for a shocking secret order.

When he found out I’d injured my leg and couldn't scrub in to deliver the billionaire's baby tomorrow, my boyfriend’s first reaction wasn't concern. He gritted his teeth and snapped, "Hannah, you did this on purpose, didn't you? Why today of all days? Are you really throwing away your entire career just to spite me?!"
I didn't argue. I just stared at the medical chart labeled Eleanor Whitlock, my fingers trembling.
In my past life, I took this assignment. I was drugged and locked in a supply closet. A few hours later, the mother and baby were dead—and the security footage showed a nurse with my face poisoning them. I died in a damp prison cell, branded a murderer.
Reborn into this life, I just wanted to escape this fatal trap.
But somehow, the security cameras had once again captured "me" walking into that delivery room.

In the seventh year of being a stay-at-home husband, I discovered the son I cherished as the most precious treasure in my life was actually the illegitimate child of my wife and her male best friend.
To conceal the scandal of her infidelity, my CEO wife, worth millions, joined forces with her male best friend in a grand deception. They single-handedly destroyed my artistic career, transforming me into a free nanny raising their illegitimate child.
Upon learning the truth, I didn't lose my composure.
I calmly presented the divorce papers and the paternity test report proving no biological relation, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, that ever-lofty wife, the one who had once publicly doused me with ice water for her male best friend, was utterly consumed by regret and fury.
She kicked the scoundrel to the curb. In front of a crowd, she pressed a switchblade to her own throat, casting aside all dignity to kneel on the ground, crying and begging me to look at her just once more.
I didn't even blink. My voice was as cold as ice. "If you want to die, do it outside. Don't ruin my mood for coffee."

Congratulations, Mrs. Miles, you're pregnant with quadruplets!
Estella Miles, after years of emotional turmoil, is overjoyed to learn she’s expecting two boys and two girls. Married for five years to a renowned billionaire capitalist, Cameron, she rushes home to share the news as the perfect birthday surprise. But her world shatters when Cameron, unmoved by the pregnancy reveal, tears up the test results and serves her divorce papers. In a cruel twist, he replaces her with her twin sister, Riana.
A heated confrontation between the sisters lands Estella unconscious in the hospital where she works. There, she’s saved by a charismatic, sexy doctor—who also happens to be her boss, the billionaire owner of the hospital. As sparks fly, Estella finds herself falling for the man who mends her broken heart.
Meanwhile, Cameron uncovers Riana’s deception—she’s scammed him and fled, leaving him to grapple with the truth about Estella’s pregnancy and his grave mistake. Determined to win her back, he vows, “I must find her.”
Will Estella forgive her ex-husband and rekindle their past, or will she surrender to the passionate connection with her billionaire doctor boss, whose touch ignites undeniable chemistry?

For three years, I was Julian Vance’s perfect shadow.

By day, I was the flawless executive secretary who kept his multi-billion-dollar empire running without a single hitch. By night, I was his secret, contract wife a convenient arrangement kept hidden behind the closed doors of his penthouse to satisfy a dying man's wish. I loved him in the quiet darkness, enduring his coldness, his family’s venom, and the cruel taunts of his elite childhood friend, Victoria.

But three months ago, the illusion shattered. When I was trapped in a hospital room losing our unborn child, Julian was on a red carpet with Victoria. His message to me through his assistant? “Do not interrupt important business meetings with minor domestic emergencies.”

That was the day Vivian Lane died.
The moment our three-year contract expires at midnight, I slide two papers across his mahogany desk: our signed divorce decree and my immediate resignation.

Julian scoffs, arrogant and completely convinced I’ll be crawling back to him within a month when my bank account dries up. He thinks I'm a penniless outcast with nowhere to turn.

He has no idea that while I was playing his submissive secretary, I was quietly building my own foundation. Now, his biggest corporate clients are jumping ship to my new boutique firm, and an international venture capital network has just hired a legendary, anonymous digital strategist known as "The Cipher" to engineer a hostile takeover of Vance Enterprises.

That strategist is me.
As his empire begins to bleed out brick by brick, the billionaire who once looked down on me finally drops to his knees. But I’m no longer his secretary, and I’m no longer his wife. If he wants me back, he’ll have to survive the ruin I’m about to bring to his doorstep.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” I replied, not turning around. “Leaving you.” My hand closed around the door handle.

“Not with my child.”


Married off to him to settle a debt that was never mine, I was nothing more than a contract… a means to an end.

An heir.

That was all Adrian Blackwood ever wanted from me.

Not my love. Not my heart. Not me. But still… I gave it to him anyway.

Year after year, I loved a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him. And when my time was up, when the contract ended and no child tied me to him, I walked away.

Until fate played its cruel joke.

Because just when I finally left him behind, I found out I was carrying his child.

Now the man who never wanted me… refuses to let me go.

Twenty-one-year-old Adrian Blood had nothing — no parents, no money, he was just a scholarship and a girlfriend he thought was worth saving for. Valentine's night stripped even that away. Teresa chose his bully. Ricardo's men put him in the garbage, literally.

Then a voice activated in his head.

The Chosen Heir System doesn't do sympathy — it does missions. Its first order: save the sister of the man who just destroyed him. Adrian ran through the rain, bleeding, and did it anyway.

One mission. One million dollars.

Ricardo Rodriguez has no idea what he just created. And the system is only getting started.

I swear, I hate my husband.

At my birthday party, my husband whispered to his mistress in French that he missed her. His voice was low, but I heard it all—the black lingerie, the bit about how pregnancy makes you more sensitive. His French clients around us were laughing. He turned and put his arm around me, claiming he was just helping his clients come up with sweet nothings.

He doesn't know I understand every single word. Just like he doesn't know that inside my body, I'm carrying his other surprise. And his mistress—she's pregnant too. Two wombs, one secret.

Confrontation would be too cheap. Tears are worthless. I quietly started cataloging the hidden networks my father left behind, activating the Swiss accounts.

In seven days, Zoey Smith will cease to exist. And what will my husband's reaction be?

Adrian Vale thought he had planned the perfect accident.
His mistress would receive my kidney. My unborn child would disappear. And I would wake up too broken—and too frightened—to expose him.
Instead, I escaped.
Now the world believes Claire Whitmore is dead, my husband is mourning beside an empty grave, and every secret he buried is being delivered to the police.
He wanted me gone.
He should have made sure I stayed dead.

I lost my memory.
When I woke up, my biological parents and aloof wife were fussing over the fake young master's bedside.
I, the real young master who had just awakened from a coma, only received my wife's cold command: "Sebastian needs a blood transfusion. Go donate."
Looking at the scars on my wrists from her suicide attempt, my amnesiac mind only felt absurdity.
I calmly donated blood, then turned and signed the divorce papers, leaving with nothing, and unilaterally published a notice severing all ties with my family.
Later, the fake young master's conspiracy was exposed. My arrogant female CEO wife destroyed her entire family, flew halfway around the world overnight, and knelt at the airport, tears streaming down her face, begging me to come home.
I, however, took the hand of a haired female professor and looked at her coldly: " Sorry, I already have a partner ."

On the eve of the wedding, Dante sold me to Alex, a deranged auto mechanic, for two dollars.
His friend confused.
“You’re going to marry Chole, that adult film actress. Just send Lucia away. You two were betrothed as children, and she’s lived with the Costellos for ten years. You must care about her at least a little.”
“That mechanic’s violent and ugly. She’ll suffer terribly if she marries him.”
Dante smirked.
“It’s just a small punishment. Chole comes from the bottom and is riddled with insecurities; all she wants is the title of wife. But Lucia refused to be my mistress, and worse, she made Chole cry.”
“Mark my words. Before half a day passes, she’ll throw a fit, threaten to take her own life, and beg me to let her stay by my side.”
His friend shook his head.
“Aren’t you scared she’ll go through with the marriage out of spite?”
Dante sipped his tea unhurriedly.
“No need to worry. She’s believed since childhood that she’d be my wife. Even if she’s furious for a moment, she’d never give herself to another man. I’ll rescue her after I marry Chole the day after tomorrow, then take her on as my mistress. She’ll only grow more devoted to me afterward.”
I clutched the two dollars tight and turned away without a word.

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

In the Hall of Divine Selection, my younger sister stepped on me and declared that she was the only one worthy of becoming the Dragon Queen. Then she threw Kaelorn at me—a broken, half-blind dragon she had tortured until even his tail was severed—like he was nothing more than a worthless mate for a worthless bride.
In my last life, I was stripped to the bone and imprisoned by the Dragon God, while she lived free and untouched.
But this time, the moment she raised her hand to slap me, I had already made up my mind—
In this life, I'll be the one to drag her into hell.

I bled to death on a cold hospital bed, my unborn child gone, all because I took a shift for my coworker.
Heaven granted me a second chance. I opened my eyes, sitting safely at my office desk. Before I could shake off the nightmare, Vanessa clicked her heels toward me.
"Claire, can you cover for me at the investor party tonight? It’s my anniversary with my boyfriend."
In my past life, I agreed, only to be locked in a private room by monsters and tortured to death. This time, I looked her in the eye. "No."
Vanessa was stunned. Because of my refusal, she missed the crucial meeting and was mercilessly fired by the director.
I thought I had escaped hell and saved her life too. But when I got home to my loving husband, I realized the true nightmare had just begun...

In my past life, we were camping in the wilderness area of a state park when my best friend handed out "lucky charms" to the whole group. Charms she'd secretly packed full of wildlife attractant.

A wild boar knocked me to the ground outside the cabin door. Its tusks tore into my stomach. I pounded on the wood with both fists, screaming. "Help! Open the door!"

Inside were my boyfriend of two years and the best friend I'd been quietly supporting for just as long. Autumn Warren.

"I'm so sorry, Brynn." Autumn's voice broke into sobs, but her weight stayed pressed hard against the door. "There are boars everywhere. We open that door, we're all dead."

"Just hold on! I'm calling 911!" Wyatt Fletcher's voice rang out with the kind of conviction that cost him absolutely nothing.

I paid for that trip. I'd fallen behind because I'd stopped to pull Autumn along.

And they stood on the other side of that door, my blood soaking into the dirt, and locked me out.

I open my eyes. I'm back. It's the day we left.

"Come see our wedding invitations!" I excitedly held up the document folder I'd grabbed from ,my fiancé, Lorenzo's study, showing it off to his men in his private safe house on the Upper East Side.

Lorenzo and I had been running ourselves ragged this month preparing for the wedding.

Lorenzo's guys raised their glasses, waiting to see our custom-designed invitations. I eagerly turned the folder upside down—

Marriage certificates, wedding photos, and a property transfer document came tumbling out onto the floor.

Dead silence.

"Oh, these aren't our invitations..." I was still grinning foolishly. "Must be the wrong folder."

"Let me see which lucky lady is about to become a happy bride."

I looked down at the wedding photo. A beautiful brunette woman in an elaborate white gown smiled from the center of the picture, looking so blissful, so content.

When my eyes shifted to the groom beside her, my world collapsed.

It was Lorenzo. He wore a perfect black tuxedo, but he was tenderly embracing a woman I'd never seen before.

Alexandra Moretti has not taken a single step down the aisle when the cathedral doors open behind her.
A nurse comes in with a newborn and a birth record. The mother is in surgery. The father, she says, is the groom.
Vincent DeLuca does not deny it. Neither does his family. They offer ten minutes in the priest's office and a simple arrangement: the boy will be provided for quietly, and Alexandra will still be Mrs. DeLuca.
They have misjudged her.
This was never a wedding. It was a merger, and Alexandra is the only person in the room who read every clause. She sets the ring on a pew, orders her security chief to recover the signed papers, and walks out of St. Patrick's before the ink is dry.
Her father does not stop her.
By tonight, the DeLucas will find out how much of their empire was only ever borrowed.

As I sat in the police station with Yvonne Harper, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, waiting for bail arrangements to be made, the decision loomed.
One of us could go home tonight.
My mate, Alpha Jackson, chose to take her.
"Nicole, just wait for me one more night. I’ll come back for you tomorrow," he said.
He was worried about her fragile health, but he didn’t care about my fear of the dark.
Later, I called him. My voice was steady, though my heart ached.
"Jackson," I began, "for the past few years, I’ve been waiting for you."
"But I won’t wait forever."

The first time they met, Jace looked her in the eye and said, "I don't sleep with virgins. Too much trouble. No satisfaction."
The second time, desire betrayed his rules. "Walk away, Nerissa. Or I'll stop pretending I can resist you."
The 99th time, everything changed. "I don't want to be your lover anymore. I want to be your husband."

To save her father's life, Nerissa offered the only thing she had left — her first night. The buyer? Dr. Jace Whitmore. Cold, powerful, and dangerously untouchable.

For Nerissa, it was supposed to end when the debt was paid.
For Jace, it was just lust. He thought once he tired of Nerissa's body, letting her go would be easy.
But neither of them expected to fall — hard.

As desire deepens into something dangerously close to love, their fragile bond is tested by ruthless enemies, haunting secrets, and the brutal reality of their worlds: hers, humble and struggling; his, ruthless and elite.

Can a relationship born of desperation and desire survive the storm — and turn into something real?

When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT‼️
This story contains themes of BDSM, including elements of dominance and submission, bondage, name-calling kinks (such as terms like "whore"), consensual rough play, and some scenes that involve violence. If these topics could be triggering or uncomfortable for you, I strongly recommend proceeding with caution or choosing a different story.

But if you're into all this delicious chaos—welcome, and get ready for the ride of your life. Things are about to get wild. Enjoy! 😉

Why was I thinking about his lips? Was I really that starved for attention?

I couldn't tear my eyes away. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the sheer need for something to distract me. But it wasn't just his lips. His jaw was sharp, the muscles of his neck visible beneath the fabric of his shirt. He looked like someone who could make me forget everything.

His voice broke through my thoughts. "Something wrong?"
I blinked, shaking my head, forcing my eyes to pull away from him. "No. Nothing."

I felt his gaze still on me, making me feel like he could see right through all the bullshit I was trying to wear. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the heartbreak, or the way he looked at me, but suddenly it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like something I needed.

Without thinking, I stood, my body moving before my mind could catch up. My heart raced as I stepped closer to him, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He was surprised, but I didn't care.
I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to me, and pressed my lips to his.

Three years of marriage, and she was nothing but his invisible "secretary" — or worse, the woman he accused of drugging him to get a ring on her finger.
It wasn't until Grace watched Alfred stroll out of the VIP terminal with his ex on his arm that she finally understood. This marriage had only ever been real to one of them.
She signed the divorce papers without a scene. Quietly resigned. And moved on.
That's when he lost control.
"Grace, who gave you the right to just leave?"
"Is this about another man? You're divorcing me for him?"
Then came the night he stood in the rain, eyes red, blocking her path.
"I was wrong. Can we go home?"
She looked at him and said simply, "Mr. White, we're already divorced."

For seven years, Rose Rollins hid her noble Silver Wolf bloodline in Blackstone City.
She saved Zack Morrigan from ruin and helped Shawn Haynes rise from disgrace. They once swore they would protect her forever—until an innocent-looking Omega, Sally, stole their attention, their trust, and finally their hearts.
Framed, humiliated, and nearly killed by the men she once loved, Rose finally stops waiting for their loyalty. She returns to Golden Oak City and accepts the arranged bond she once fled: a union with Asher Thorne, the powerful Alpha of the Golden Pack.
But Rose's return exposes more than old wounds. Sally’s lies begin to unravel. Zack and Shawn discover the woman they betrayed was never powerless. And Asher, cold and dangerous, may be the only wolf who truly respects her.
As enemies close in and regrets arrive too late, Rose must choose between revenge, forgiveness, and a future where she never looks back.

In my past life, I built an ironclad sanctuary in the zombie-infested wasteland, bleeding to keep four thousand people alive.
Yet the very people I risked everything to protect were brainwashed into overthrowing me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right on the eve of that fatal rebellion.
Right now in the control room, my enemy has his arm around my wife. Fourteen rebels have their assault rifles pressed against my skull, laughing mockingly, convinced they've completely crushed this washed-up "Doomsday Tyrant."
What they don't know is that two days ago, I already emptied the bunker's entire stockpile of weapons and food.
You want "freedom" without rules? It's all yours.

To get the only targeted drug for my sister's sudden rare disease flare-up, I knelt before the city's elites in a grease-stained janitor's uniform and barked like a dog. My wife in name only glared at me with absolute disgust, cursing that I was worse than a dog. The chaebol heir even crushed the medicine bottle under his shoe, forcing me into a "no fighting back" death match in the underground black market.

Enduring the agony of broken bones, I survived ten brutal rounds, only to be handed swapped poison and witness a monstrous fire engulf the clinic.

Watching my sister's life-support indicators gradually fade in the sea of flames, and looking at the female doctor whose legs were shattered while trying to protect her, I shed no tears.

I calmly pulled a glass shard from my ribs and took out the black satellite communicator I had kept hidden and sealed away for three years.

"Command received, Supreme Commander."

Tonight, I will make the chaebols of this city completely vanish from the face of the earth.

Four years. Ninety-nine times on the altar, and the Alpha I was going to mate held the door for every one of them.
I heal from anything. That is the only reason they picked me.
The Moon Goddess promised that the hundredth offering would buy back the night somebody stole from me. The night Cassian knows it was me who dug him out of that mine, and looks at me the way he used to.
Not this one. In this one I am what his priestess practises on.
So I never refused. Not once, not through any of the fevers.
Tonight is the hundredth. The drug hasn't taken, and the two of them are talking on the other side of the door.
"It'll hold. We built that voice out of her own memories."
"The heart tonight, not an eye. When she wakes, don't let anything slip."
There is no Moon Goddess. There never was.
And he doesn't know my healing was never mine. Something else lives in my chest, and it stays there because my heart does.
Take it out and I don't wake up.

Beau and I have been together for three years. I paid for the entire yacht charter out of my own pocket, and he shows up with his childhood best friend Sadie in tow, then goes around telling everyone it was his idea, his grand gesture.

Out on the water, Sadie spots a small octopus drifting near the surface and decides she has to have it. The thing pulses with glowing blue rings.

I'm a certified expert diver. I know exactly what it is the second I see it. I try to stop her.

She bursts into tears and tells Beau I'm going after her.

So Beau, ever the hero where Sadie's concerned, jumps in himself and fishes the thing out.

Sadie plays with it. It bites her. She's on the deck before she even knows what hit her.

Beau grabs me, screaming at me to suck out the venom. I refuse. He calls me a cold, heartless bitch, and in the chaos, shoves me overboard into shark-infested water.

I die out there. Nothing left of me.

They use my phone to fake a suicide note. Depression, they say. Jumped on her own. Then they take my company, my assets, everything.

They post online hinting I tried to push Sadie in and slipped.

My parents, worn down by the online harassment and the grief of losing me, both die of heart attacks.

Then I open my eyes. And I'm back. The morning of the trip.