8067 Book(s) Related to the bride he betrayed

The biggest mistake of my life was falling in love with my childhood best friend, Cole Blackwood.

I grew up with Cole. He was my childhood best friend. When my mom died in a car accident in high school, his mother Lillian, my mom's best friend, saw that my stepmother didn't like me and took me in. She arranged our engagement. Cole protected me from bullies in high school. I fell for him. We secretly married at eighteen.

Shortly after the wedding, he was kidnapped. That's when everything fell apart. I threw myself off a cliff to draw the kidnappers away and save him. I was in a coma for three months. But when I came back to him, weak and broken, he thought some woman named Sophia Vanderbilt had saved him instead. He started hating me for "abandoning him" and grew cold. I tried to explain. He only believed what Sophia told him. My words meant nothing. 

Cole wanted to divorce me, but his parents refused to allow it. I refused too. Sophia drugged him to get pregnant and trap him into marriage, but he stumbled into the wrong room. He slept with me instead. I got pregnant. She faked videos to make him think they'd been together. She forged evidence that I'd cheated. He wouldn't listen to a word I said. 

Then we were both kidnapped and held hostage on a rooftop. Cole chose to save Sophia. I fell. I lost the baby. After Sophia was rescued, she went to the hospital for a checkup. They found leukemia. She needed a bone marrow transplant. I was the only match, but after everything, my body was too weak. Cole used the "debt" I owed his family to force me to donate. 

I refused. Sophia "died." Cole locked me in a psychiatric hospital and tortured me until I died. 

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he demanded my bone marrow. This time, looking at his desperate eyes, I said yes and decided to divorce him and leave him for good.

When they shoved me into the flames, I fought through the blinding pain to call my brother, Ethan Bennett. Fire licked at my skin, twisting my vision, but the call finally went through.

"What is it now?" He sounded distracted, like he was checking off a guest list.

"Ethan, please, help—" My voice was shattered, choked by the searing heat.

"Can't you just give it a rest for one single day?" he snapped, cutting me off. "Selina and I are getting married this weekend. If you pull another stunt, I swear I'll—"

The call died right as the flames swallowed me whole.

Agony consumed every nerve before my eyes closed for good, his unfinished threat still echoing in my ears.

But the good news is, Ethan... you don't have to swear anymore. Because I was dead.

When the Manhattan morgue finally managed to reach my husband, Victor Hawthorne, he was in the penthouse suite, fucking another woman.
"Mr. Hawthorne, this is the city morgue. We need you to come down and identify your wife's remains."
"Identify what?" he snapped, his thrusts not missing a beat.
"Burn her," he ordered. "Don't bother me with her pathetic ploys."
He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, his focus entirely on the woman beneath him.
Then my body was pushed into the incinerator.
When I was nothing but ashes, the funeral home called him again.
Selena pouted, trailing a nail down his chest.
"Is Cecilia acting up again?"
"I'll go end this farce," Victor sneered, getting out of bed.

"You have two months to live." The doctor's death sentence was still ringing in my ears when I found the receipt in his pocket.

[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]

3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.

I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.

"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.

I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.

I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.

I spent five years loving Beckett Calloway.
When his ex-girlfriend died saving his life, I held him through every nightmare. When he said he "wasn't ready" for marriage, I waited. When he whispered "soon," I believed him.
Then her sister showed up. Crying about some terminal illness. Begging him to take care of her.
He let her move onto our private island—the one he promised would only ever belong to us.
He introduced her at the gala where he was supposed to announce our engagement.
He got her pregnant.
And when I told him she was lying about everything, he looked at me like I was the monster.
Then came our wedding rehearsal. She walked down the aisle in my dress. He slid his ring onto her finger. The chapel caught fire. I collapsed, bleeding.
He scooped her up and ran. Didn't even glance back.
So I burned my vows, deleted every trace of myself, and vanished.
This time, I wasn't coming back.

The night before graduation, a confession post blew up the school forum:
“Daphne, I’m gonna rip up my Harvard offer onstage during commencement to confess to you—my whole college future as my love token.”
The OP bragged nonstop in the comments that he’d locked down the state’s only full-ride Harvard scholarship, his admission was a done deal, and graduation was nothing but a meaningless formality anyway.
The attached photo showed their interlaced hands. That old burn scar on his forearm—the one he’d claimed he got saving me—stared back like a chain that’s trapped me for ten years straight.
I poured every cent, every spare hour and all my academic resource just to get him into Harvard. I even voluntarily stepped down from the scholarship race and passed the spot to him.
This childhood sweetheart who’d sworn we’d go to Harvard together only hours ago threw every promise out the window for a rich transfer student, willing to gamble both our futures just for a dramatic grand gesture.
I shut the forum tab, pulled up my email to the scholarship committee.
I’m formally taking back the scholarship spot I gave up！

A hundred years ago, that curse was meant for him. I'm the one who threw myself in front of it.
It cost me my elven heart, shattered on the spot—and a name I could never wash off. Traitor.
I never argued. Because the moment I speak the truth, the curse goes straight back to him.
So I stayed. I became his blood servant and let him drain me, one bottle at a time, to feed the woman he'd waited a century for. I told myself that if I endured long enough, someday he'd see my heart for what it was.
Then the healer told me my heart had thirty days left.
And he walked in, knife in hand, to say his beloved needed more of my blood.
This time, I'm not enduring anything.
I'm going to give him back this heart—at the exact moment he's most sure he's won.

To avenge his beloved, my husband locked me—pregnant—in a dog cage and sank it into the icy lake outside our house.
"Wendy spent ten minutes in the water. You'll stay in there for two days."
I screamed and pleaded, "I'm not lying! I really am pregnant! Please!"
But he towered over me, his eyes full of disgust. "You'll say anything to avoid punishment—even a lie like this?"
As the iron cage sank, the freezing water swallowed me—and took the unborn child with it.
Two days later, he had the cage hauled up, waiting for me to beg Wendy for forgiveness.
But all that was left inside was a curled, lifeless body, my dress soaked in vivid red.
I hovered above, watching coldly as he clung to my corpse, howling like a madman.
Eric, why are you crying?
Isn't this what you wanted?

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

Sydney is reborn on National Decision Day after being betrayed and killed by her boyfriend Carter, her childhood friend Julian, and the scheming Harper.
Determined not to be their cash cow and victim again, she uses her family’s power to expose their crimes and fake innocent personas in front of Beverly Hills elites.
Ruined and desperate, the three traitors turn on each other and die on the same rooftop where they murdered her. Sydney finally breaks free and starts a brilliant new life at Harvard.

Racked by confusion and changes in her body, Diana found herself irresistibly drawn to Andrew. Passion ignited and threatened to consume them both. However, she was unprepared for the reason he had sought her out and the danger that lay ahead. Regardless, sharing a love of conquering their goals, this unlikely pair began to form an unexpected bond that led them to a place neither of them ever expected to be.

I am a mermaid.

To walk toward him, I swallowed a dark potion, shedding my tail for a pair of legs.
Every step felt like treading on sharp blades, yet I endured it all willingly.
He took me in, promising to protect me for the rest of my life.

Then, his ex-lover returned.

She orchestrated one accident after another to frame me—a slashed costume, a staged fall down the stairs... And every single time, convenient "eyewitnesses" immediately pointed their fingers at me.

He believed them all.

Until a falling stage light crushed her legs.
He pinned me to the operating table, personally severed my legs, and transplanted them onto that woman.

What he didn't know was that anyone who walked on these legs would have to suffer the excruciating agony of stepping on knives.
He simply told me coldly: "You ruined her ability to dance, so you will pay with your legs."

That night, alone and broken, I wheeled myself to the beach.
Using only my bare hands, I crawled across the coarse sand, into the crashing waves, and returned to my true home.

——Leaving him to stare at the security monitors, watching helplessly as I sank into the dark sea, never to surface again.

Nora Vale was never supposed to be seen.

For three years, she rebuilt hockey captain Callum Pierce after the injury that nearly ended his career. She tracked his tremors, rewrote his recovery protocol, and carried the private marriage his family refused to make public.

Then he won the championship.

Under the arena lights, Callum lifted the cup and thanked Sloane Mercer, the beautiful sports host the cameras already loved. Backstage, Nora watched her own medical system appear under Sloane's name.

That night, Nora left with the evidence and the child Callum never knew existed.

Three years later, Nora is no longer hiding in the tunnel. She is the chief medical consultant for the rival team, the one woman the league needs when old concussion records begin to surface. Callum wants answers. His father wants control. Sloane wants the public story to stay clean.

Nora wants her name back.

But the fight is no longer only about a stolen system. It is about a son whose medical records could shift a franchise, a trust that could break the Pierce family, and a championship myth built on the woman they erased.

Callum thanked the wrong woman on the night he won.

Now the whole league is about to learn who made him a champion.

He married me because I look like her.
For three years, I played the role. I cooked his meals. I warmed his bed. I smiled when he forgot my birthday. I stayed quiet when he left in the middle of the night to hold her hand.
I told myself it was enough. I told myself I didn't need his love.
Then I got pregnant.
He said he hated children. So I didn't tell him. I was going to keep it. Our baby. The only thing that was truly mine.
But my body had other plans.
When I called him from the hospital floor, bleeding out, begging for help—he didn't come. He said I was lying. He was too busy with her.
That night, I lost everything.
The baby. The hope. The lie I'd been living.
Now he's calling me. Again and again.
But the substitute wife? She's not picking up.

The day I found out I was carrying twins, my husband offered me $13.5 million for a divorce.

After two and a half years on a $500 monthly allowance, I had one urgent question:

Where did I sign?

Ethan and his girlfriend thought I was hiding my heartbreak.

I was hiding an ultrasound picture—and trying to leave before he changed his mind.

"Ivory's six months pregnant. She needs to get back more than you do."

When my husband Donovan said those words at a South African mining disaster site, I knew my marriage was over. Two helicopter seats, three British nationals. He chose to save his mistress instead of his pregnant wife.

"I'm pregnant too," I told him, my voice shaking.

"I know," he replied without emotion. "You're only three months along. You'll manage."

He knew. He knew I was carrying his child, and he was still choosing her over me. Over us.

"You'll manage. You're stronger than anyone," he told me as he left me in a war zone, helping his precious Ivory onto the helicopter like she might break.

Three months pregnant and abandoned, the stress nearly killed me. I had no choice but to terminate the pregnancy – the last tie connecting me to the man who betrayed me.

But I discovered something deeper than just adultery. Something that would destroy them both.

For three years, everyone at Spire Academy believed Liam loved me. Until I uncovered his secret plan: steal my academy recommendation to save Anna, and keep me waiting on the sidelines. He handed my future to another girl and threw me to a mad duke to be dissected. I escaped death by leaping into the Rift of Silence, only to be pulled from the abyss by Arnold, an ancient night lord. When Liam finally realized his sin, he begged for a second chance. But the girl who waited for him in the dark died in the rift. I have a new life, and I will never look back.

A childhood engagement, two decades in the making. I crossed an ocean for the sole purpose of marrying the heir to the Russell family.

But they led me to an abandoned construction site—where a blood-soaked man was swinging a steel pipe, fighting off ten attackers at once. This, they told me, was "my fiancé."

Bankrupt. Drowning in debt. Scraping by in underground fighting pits. They said he was living like a dog.

Meanwhile, the real heir had his arm around another woman, sneering at me from across the room. "Some gold-digging country girl thinks she deserves me? Find a nobody with the same last name—that's the best she'll ever get."

They made us into a joke—the washed-up loser paired with the clueless village hick.

What they didn't know was that I held several championship belts.

What they also didn't know was that this little "con" of theirs had already begun to unravel the moment I set foot in this city.

He said, "I don't know you. Mind your own business."

Too bad. I'd already made it mine.

This marriage? I was locking it down.

Everyone in this city knows that the king of the underworld, my husband Vincent, is crazy about me.

Three years ago, when that bullet tore through my abdomen, it took away my chance of ever being a mother. He held my blood-soaked body and swore to God he'd make the shooter's entire family pay. A month later, that family was wiped off the map in this city. No one dares speak their name anymore.

He sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand. "I don't need kids. I only need you."

I believed him.

Until six months ago, when his brother died in an accident, leaving behind his wife Serena. The family pressure came like a tidal wave. An heir. A bloodline. That's all they cared about. And that woman became everyone's golden ticket to keeping the Caruso name alive.

That's when my husband stopped coming home at night. Every night, I hear them through the wall. Sounds that used to be mine.

But today, the doctor told me my body is healing. The chances are slim, but there's hope.

I clutch the medical report and rush home, imagining Vincent's face when he sees the results. Maybe everything can go back to how it was. Maybe he'll realize he doesn't need her.

Until I stand outside our mansion and hear laughter pouring out.

"Serena's pregnant! Can you believe it? The family finally has an heir!"

"Finally. The family's saved."

Ten years loving Liam Rockefeller cost me everything.

He said the football team jumped him—so I charged in and took the punches. He sobbed that his stepbrother would destroy him at Yale—so I ripped up my acceptance letter. He held me at midnight whispering "I'm so lucky to have you"—and I thought that meant forever.

Three months later, I heard him laughing in the locker room—laughing about me.

"Iris is like a fucking puppy, so easy to fool. Now that the Yale spot's open, Emily can go with me."

The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces—just tools to control me while he fucked his side piece.

He thought I'd still stand in front of him even with a broken nose. He thought I'd never wise up.

I wised up.

In his stepbrother Sebastian's bed.

I’m Scarlett, the last true revival tattoo artist, capable of defying death with my cursed ink—for a brutal price. I lost everything saving my fiancé Hunter in my past life, only to be betrayed and killed by him .

Reborn when Hunter dies again, I refuse to sacrifice myself for my murderers. In an unthinkable twist, the powerless fraud Wendy resurrects Hunter, winning universal praise while I’m branded cold. Only I know the truth: he is not alive. He is a decaying, cursed corpse. I gamble everything for revenge and resurrect the only man who once saved me.

But tampering with death twice stirs a fatal, unspoken curse.

My husband doesn't love me, and he certainly doesn't love our son.
On the day Toby was born, Graham didn't even look at him before tossing him into my arms.
For seven years, he kept our marriage a secret and strictly forbade our boy from calling him "Dad."
Then, his first love returned.
The usually cold and distant billionaire came to our rundown cabin dead drunk, a rare, tender smile on his face, and actually pulled our seven-year-old into his arms.
Toby's eyes lit up with pure joy. He excitedly hugged the man's neck and whispered to me, "Mom, what's wrong with Uncle Graham? He's hugging me!"
I knelt down, pulled my son away from the man who smelled of her perfume, and forced back my tears. "Uncle's favorite person just came back, sweetie. So we shouldn't bother him anymore. We're moving away."
I secretly made a vow: I would give Graham exactly three chances.
That night, watching my son's heartbroken face, I silently made a vow.
Three chances. I would give Graham exactly three more chances to choose us.
The countdown has started. Once his three chances are up, he won't just lose his family—he will watch his entire legacy burn to the ground.

On our wedding day, Declan sent me out to Long Island. We'd been together seven years.

He said he'd left his grandmother's lucky cufflinks at the family house.

But when my car died in the storm, I opened my bridesmaid's Instagram live.

Declan was sliding my custom diamond ring onto Phoebe's finger—my adopted sister, the one with the bad heart.

My own parents were crying in the front row. My bridesmaids were cheering.

They'd turned my wedding into a dying wish ceremony for Phoebe.

Hours later, alone in the ER, I called forty-seven times.

No one picked up.

Not until after I lost the baby and disappeared from Manhattan.

That's when Declan finally came apart.

For three years, I genuinely believed I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Until I hit play on that video.

The moment the screen lit up, my perfect reality shattered into a million jagged pieces.

The woman writhing on the bed was Amanda—the sweet, innocent girl we had both grown up with.

And the hand tracing the curve of her bare skin? It wore the platinum wedding band I had personally slipped onto Louis’s finger.

"I missed you so much..."

"You drive me fucking crazy, baby..."

Hearing my own husband's signature sweet nothings whispered to my childhood best friend gutted me completely.

Our entire social circle constantly praised us as the golden couple. But beneath the glossy surface, who could have guessed this flawless marriage was built on a mountain of sick lies?

Well, if Louis was such a brilliant actor, I figured it was time to give him a show of my own.

I was going to rip off his mask and show the entire world exactly what kind of monster my "perfect husband" truly was.

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.

From #1 bestselling author Blake Pierce comes a heart-pounding new mystery series.In the cornfields of Nebraska a woman is found murdered, strung up on a pole, the victim of a deranged killer. It doesn’t take long for the police to realize a serial killer is on the loose—and that his spree has just begun.Detective Mackenzie White, young, tough, smarter than the aging, chauvinistic men on her local force, finds herself called in grudgingly to help solve it. As much as the other officers hate to admit it, they need her young, brilliant mind, which has already helped crack cold cases that had left them stumped. Yet even for Mackenzie this new case proves an impossible riddle, something the likes of which she—and the local force—have ever seen.With the FBI called in, together, an intense manhunt ensues. Mackenzie, reeling from her own dark past, her failed relationships, and her undeniable attraction to the new FBI agent, finds herself battling her own demons as her hunt for the killer takes her to the darkest places of her mind. As she delves into the killer’s mind, obsessing over his twisted psychology, she finds that evil truly does exist. She only hopes it will not be too late to extricate herself from it, as her entire life collapses around her.As more bodies turn up dead and a frantic race against time ensues, there is no way out but to find him before he kills again.A dark psychological thriller with heart-pounding suspense, BEFORE HE KILLS marks the debut of a riveting new series—and a beloved new character—that will leave you turning pages late into the night. Book #2 in the Mackenzie White Mystery series will be available soon. Also available by Blake Pierce is ONCE GONE (A Riley Paige mystery—Book #1), a #1 bestseller!

Marriage is meant to be a dream come true, but Isolde Conklin’s marriage is the complete opposite. Sold to a cruel Alpha by her parents, she endures three agonizing years of constant assault.

During one cold night, she’s had enough of the humiliation and constant harassment. So she does something insane—she kills her own husband.

Soaked in his blood, she runs as bullets fly over her head, but she’s eventually saved by Alpha Ryder of the Redblood pack.

But Ryder didn’t save her because he cares. He saved her because he wants to avenge his mother’s death. Now trapped in a pack full of secrets, enemies, and men who would do anything to claim her, Isolde must survive or risk losing everything…..including her life.

Chloe Hudson gave up everything—including her health—for a man who never loved her. Married to Hank Collins only in name, she's endured a year of cold rejection while he lavished his love on another: her own half-sister, Irene. Just when Chloe decides to walk away, a twist of fate changes everything—she's pregnant. But instead of joy, her news is met with cruelty. Hank demands she abort the child, claiming only the woman he loves deserves his baby.
Heartbroken but not broken, Chloe chooses to fight—for her child, her dignity, and a future beyond betrayal. As secrets unravel and loyalties are tested, a familiar figure from her past steps in: Ryan Cooper, a man who once loved her and never stopped.
Will Chloe finally find the love she deserves? Or will her past drag her down before she can rise?

On Valentine's Day, the Rogue King came to slaughter my mate, the Alpha of the Silvercrest pack, Adrian Barrett. But he wasn't home. He was busy celebrating with his childhood love, Celeste, leaving our five-year-old daughter at the assassin's mercy. To save her, I swallowed deadly wolfsbane.

"Daddy, please come home! Mommy is coughing blood!" Sophie sobbed into the phone.
"Stop lying just to ruin my night," Adrian snapped.
Before the line went dead, another little girl's voice chimed in. "Daddy Adrian, which dress should my mommy wear?"
"The red one, sweetheart," he cooed softly, and hung up.
I bled to death on our bed while he played perfect father to another woman's child.

But death wasn't the end. My spirit rose from my cooling corpse, forced to watch as my little girl learned a cruel truth: her father would always choose someone else.

Dante Ashford is my stepbrother, and the one person I should never have fallen in love with.

When I was ten, my parents died saving his family. The Ashfords took me in. He was good to me back then. Somewhere along the way, I fell for him.

When I was eighteen, he nearly died in an ambush. I donated blood, then a kidney to save him. I was unconscious for three days. When I woke up, Vivian Ross sat by his bed—and he believed she was his savior.

After that, he pushed me away. Vivian became his fiancée.

In my past life, Vivian's crimes brought disaster to our family. Dante got on his knees and begged me to take her punishment. I refused. She died anyway. Then he pretended to love me, planned our wedding—and on that day, his assistant announced to everyone: "This wedding was a lesson to show Miss Elena Hayes what it feels like to be abandoned by the whole world."

I jumped from the church balcony.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at that moment—him on his knees, begging.

This time, I said yes.

Dante, from now on, we're done.

"What if she finds out the baby she suffered so much to conceive is actually ours? Will she lose her mind?"

My stepsister giggled, snuggling into my husband’s embrace.

I stood outside the cracked door, completely frozen.

My husband was holding her tight, enthusiastically picking out names for the baby growing in my belly.

My own mother scoffed from the side. "Relax. That idiot will never figure out she’s carrying your baby."

A bone-deep chill shot down my spine.

For years, I had endured endless blood tests and painful injections, leaving my stomach bruised with needle marks—all just to give him a child.

Instead, they had bribed the doctors. Using IVF, they secretly turned me into a surrogate for my husband and my stepsister.

My husband was certain I was too soft-hearted. He knew that even if the plot was exposed, I could never bring myself to destroy an innocent life.

He was absolutely right.

But I could destroy myself.

In the dead of night, I walked out to the edge of the bridge, climbed over the freezing metal railing, and plummeted into the icy, pitch-black water below.

Two years later. An elite gala.

Under the dazzling spotlight, I stood completely reborn.

My ex-husband dropped his wine glass, letting it shatter against the floor as he collapsed softly to his knees, desperately clutching the hem of my gown.

I coldly pulled my dress from his trembling grasp.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, staring down at him. "You have the wrong person."

During the Yearbook photoshoot, the photographer smiled and gestured for the couples to move closer together.
But Daniel pressed his hand against my shoulder and pushed me straight to the edge of the group, then turned and pulled Harper to his side.
"Harper and I are this year's Valedictorian and Salutatorian. It makes sense for us to stand together—it'll look better for the Yearbook spread."
This wasn't the first time he'd pushed me away.
When I brought him my AP Calculus mistakes, he barely glanced at them before saying my foundation was too weak—don't waste his time.
But when Harper, ranked second in our class, brought him basic algebra questions and played dumb, he didn't notice a thing.
He'd even FaceTime with her until two in the morning, patiently breaking down every single step.
When I wanted to study with him at the library, he'd frown and say I was breaking his focus.
But when Harper dropped just two points on a quiz, he'd skip track practice entirely to take her to the beach and cheer her up.
Right before the photographer pressed the shutter, he couldn't help teasing, "You two are a couple, right? You look like prom king and queen material!"
Daniel looked at Harper, his smile proud and tender. "We're always on the same wavelength."
Harper blushed and ducked her head as the guys from the team whistled and hollered around them.
I stood outside the noise, gripping my phone so hard my knuckles went white. The camera app I'd opened hours ago had already timed out.
The dark screen reflected the dress I'd tried on for hours last night, and the curls I'd ironed over and over again.
God, how stupid of me.
The spot beside him was never meant for me.
And now? I don't want it anymore.

Four years ago, I got mauled by a rogue wolf saving my Beta husband Derek. The attack left me unable to carry pups.

He held me that night, covered in my blood, and swore through tears that kids never mattered to him anyway.

Four years later, he's sleeping with Paige, a she-wolf I took in out of kindness six months back.

"Every family needs an heir. You can't give me one, so Paige offered. Just accept it and keep being my mate."

Paige, eyes brimming with tears, insisted she only wanted to repay my kindness. The baby would call me mother. She'd never try to take my place.

I almost laughed. Since when does anyone repay a favor by climbing into bed with the man who took her in?

I refused. He brought my parents and my brother into it to force my hand.

I didn't waste another word on him. I severed the bond and moved my whole family out to Moonhaven Pack on the coast.

Turns out nobody leaves a single she-wolf alone, no matter where she goes. Thugs kept showing up outside my door, stirring up trouble.

Right when things get unbearable, a big guy shows up out of nowhere and beats the group of them into running for their lives.

He's tall, scars all over his arms. He looks me over for a long moment, then says, "I need a wife to look after my two kids. Marry me. I'll protect your whole family."

My childhood fiancé chose my best friend in his family's sacred bridal draw, then told me I could still live with him—as his mistress.
He wanted her as his wife and me running his empire.
I refused.
If I couldn't be his wife, I'd be his worst nightmare.
In seven days, I'm marrying his ruthless uncle.
Let's see if he still wants me as his dirty secret when he has to bow his head and call me “Aunt Serena.”

I almost died on the operating table trying to give Alexander Volkov a child, unaware he already had a pair of illegitimate twins with his childhood sweetheart.
My heart stopped when I saw the DNA results. Alec, the man who made the New York underworld tremble, the man who flew back on a private jet just to hold my hand, was a flawless liar.
I turned my face away, tears soaking the hospital pillow. My hand drifted to my belly. God had finally decided to give me a break after five years of needles and agony—I was pregnant. But now, it felt like the cruelest joke.
He pulled me into his arms, smelling of expensive cologne and... baby formula.
"Tell me what's wrong, honey. Whoever made you unhappy, I'll make them pay."
I stared into his lying eyes and made my decision.
I would vanish with his unborn child, leaving him to rot in eternal regret.

Everyone says I'm the woman Jasper loves most.

But only I know that in his heart, I've always come second to Sadie.

Seven years ago, I shoved him out from under a collapsing rig and shattered my right ankle. I never skated competitively again.

He held me and swore that the day he won the Grand Slam, he'd marry me in front of the whole world.

I believed him. So I learned to be his support crew. I sharpened his blades, hand-sewed his costumes, dragged my bad leg around everywhere he went. I turned myself into the shadow that followed him.

Then Sadie came along. Young, healthy, able to do things I could never do again.

Tonight, Jasper wins the Grand Slam. The cameras circle him, the whole arena chanting for him to propose.

But he looks down at Sadie in his arms and smiles.

"Out of everyone, she's the one I want to thank most for this medal. I wouldn't have made it here without her."

That's the moment I stop wanting to stay.

"Valerie, you've been working yourself to death. I booked you a flight to Switzerland—take Leo, go relax for a while." My husband Cedric set an Hermès scarf down on the table. "Early gift for our tenth anniversary."
I was thrilled, twirling in front of the mirror with the scarf, admiring how it looked.
That's when my son came around the corner, iPad in hand. "Mommy, a message just popped up. Daddy said he wants to give Seraphina a real family."
My mind just... blanked out.
I opened the message myself, and there it was—a whole year of secrets I never even knew existed.
So he wants to make things right with his old flame? Fine.
Then I get to take back everything I ever gave him.

On the way to the hospital to deliver my baby, rain was coming down in sheets.
Suddenly, my husband slammed on the brakes. He'd spotted his ex-girlfriend standing in the downpour with her child.
"She's struggling as a single mom. I'm just going to help her carry those groceries upstairs. Ten minutes, tops."
Clutching my belly through the contractions, I begged him, "But I'm about to give birth. I'm in so much pain."
He just locked the car doors with a click, his voice sharp with annoyance.
"Sarah, can you try to be a little more empathetic? She's soaking wet."
In those ten minutes, my water broke. Desperate to survive, blood on my hands, I crawled out through the back hatch.
While I was fighting for my life in the ER—
His ex posted a snapshot.
In the video, my husband was gently toweling off her hair. The caption read:
[So glad you're here.]

Two weeks before my due date, my husband Ethan is racing out the door into a stormy night.

All because his childhood friend Scarlett's apartment lost power, and she says her claustrophobia is kicking in.

I'm clutching my belly, telling him my water broke, begging him to look at the blood on the floor.

"You pulling this again? Last week wasn't enough? Scarlett's actually in danger."

He shakes off my hand. The door slams shut.

I'm standing in a pool of blood, watching his taillights disappear into the rain.

My baby won't have a father anymore.

"The entire wealthy circle in Seattle knew how much Stella Carlson loved Aaron Malone. People watched the childhood sweethearts grow from inexperience to maturity, finally getting married in a grand wedding ceremony.

On the day of the wedding, despite the alliance between the Carlson and Malone families, the groom ran away. Stella knew that Aaron had rushed to L.A. to take care of his ex-girlfriend, who had attempted suicide.

Unwilling to become the laughingstock of all Seattle, she gritted her teeth and dialed the number of her adversary, her tone almost commanding, "Ethan, come and marry me now. This is your only chance for revenge."

On the other end, Ethan Powers raised an eyebrow as he gripped his phone, staring at the floor littered with cigarette butts. "Did the groom run away?" he asked. "My darling."

Swapped at birth and stripped of her rightful place, Mia Jones thought her life couldn't get any worse after her scheming sister, Eleanor, stole her family and her fiancé. But a malicious plot leads Mia into the wrong room.

Drugged and thrown into the wrong man’s bed. Mia Jones realized her hands were tied to the bed frame. A towering silhouette radiating a dangerous aura stood at the foot of the bed. Before she could process what was happening, she was claimed by a violent kiss from that man… unaware that the man she left behind was the ruthless heir of the Greco Empire and powerful billionaire. A man powerful enough to ruin cities with a single word. A man who never lets women near him, Dylan Greco.
When Dylan wakes, the mysterious woman is gone.
“Have you uncovered the identity of the woman last night?”
“Boss, we couldn’t find anything. That woman… must have broken in by accident.”
But he remembers her. And he wants answers.

Escaping into the night, Mia Jones tries to bury the traumatic memory, unaware that the CEO is tearing the city apart to find the mysterious woman with the crescent-shaped scar on her back.
Fate brings them together again when Mia unknowingly takes a job as the therapist for Dylan's autistic son, "Little Shrimp"—a child who instantly connects with her and calls her "Mummy". As Dylan unravels the truth about that dark night, he vows to protect Mia and help her reclaim everything that was stolen from her. But with a manipulative sister, a treacherous family, and deadly enemies lurking in the shadows, will their unexpected bond survive? It's a gripping tale of sweet revenge, hidden secrets, and a romance that could bring an empire to its knees.

Anna Brown has the ability to dream and go to the Moonland, the land of werewolves, and dark creatures. But she wished all her dreams were just like those that everybody has. Yet, her dreams were different. Her dreams weren't colors of rainbows and sunshine, her dreams became her reality, after all, she was a descendant of the Moon Goddess. The last of her bloodline. Nobody knew that she was the daughter of the Moon and Fire. However, Anna was beyond miserable, how fate played her, how she was just a pawn to an ancient war of werewolves. Her fierce visions were her grief untold, and she wished she could show it, she does. But she has to let the long-lost Golden Alpha Harry Camilton in so he can trust him yet, she doesn't know whom to trust and they shattered her hope, lies were told. Would she choose the promise of his love or choose the call of the Moon Goddess?

For five years, Lyka Forth was the invisible force behind billionaire Hollywood icon Sean McGregor. She scheduled his life, anticipated his needs, and quietly hid a hopeless, unrequited love for her boss. She never expected him to look her way, especially not after the tragic car accident that claimed his wife’s life and left his four-year-old son traumatized and mute.
But Sean is drowning. Running on empty from a brutal case of insomnia, he discovers a bizarre secret: the only time his mind quiets is when he’s near Lyka. Desperate to give his son a stable guardian and eager to keep his only source of peace close, Sean offers Lyka a ruthless deal: a contract marriage. Only on paper. No feelings involved.
Forced into close proximity, the icy boundaries of their business arrangement begin to melt into a scorching, slow-burn passion. But between a media frenzy, a toxic manager, and a vengeful ex-girlfriend, their fake life is a battlefield. Just as Sean realizes his vows have become entirely real, a devastating secret about the night of the accident surfaces. The text messages that sent his late wife fleeing to her death came from Lyka’s phone.
Can love survive the ultimate betrayal, or was their marriage doomed from the very first signature?

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

Six years ago, Evelyn White caught her husband Arthur Collins cheating, then left his mansion—pregnant and unseen. Now she’s back as Eve, a top artist, with two genius twins. At her exhibition, the kids yell “Mommy”… and Arthur’s world breaks. He’s obsessed with dragging her (and the kids he never knew) back. She just wants to paint and protect her family. But as their past’s lies unravel, escaping him means fighting for more than just freedom.

She came to seduce a monster. She didn't expect to fall for one.
Elena Heart is a liar, a spy, assassin and the last ghost of a murdered noble house. To break the curse of monsters plaguing her land, she accepts a deadly mission: infiltrate the court of King Xavier Drakes, the tyrant who rules with iron and shadow, and seduce him into ruin.
But the king is not the beast she imagined.
Xavier has spent a decade chained to a monster inside his own soul, forged by betrayal and a childhood spent in darkness. He sees Elena’s ruse from her first treacherous smile. Yet he doesn't kill her. He plays along. Because a woman brave enough to lie to a tyrant might be brave enough to help him burn the real conspiracy down.
As lies entangle into truth and hatred twists into obsession, Elena discovers the greatest danger isn't the monsters at the border, it's the man who knows her every secret and surrenders anyway.
In a game of power and poison, the last move is always love. Or murder.
They’re not sure which yet.

Marigold never asked to be hunted, mistaken for her dead twin, or babysat by the most terrifying Alpha in the kingdom. Gregor says it’s life or death. She says it’s annoying. Between botched impressions of her glamorous sister, endless sass, and the fact that her only spare clothes are long gone, survival feels like one big joke—until the Black Fang pack closes in with blood in their teeth.
He’s massive, ruthless, and maddeningly protective. She’s reckless, sharp-tongued, and absolutely not afraid of him. Together, they’re running for their lives beneath the storm—but what’s more dangerous? The assassins hunting them…or the sparks threatening to burn them both alive?

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?

"And now, he's certain your life is over because he kicked you out. They're probably already placing bets on how long it will take for you to bow and beg at their feet to take you back. But..." He said coldly.

"But..." I breathed.

"Imagine suddenly returning with a husband so wealthy he makes them look like paupers. Not only is he filthy rich, but he's hopelessly in love with you, spoiling you rotten. Imagine their shock, their anger, and your satisfaction that you have exceeded their expectations. Won't that be fulfilling?"

"And... who would that husband be?" I whispered.

"Me." He grinned as he caressed my cheek. "Let's get married, my dear Iris."

••~•

After being humiliated and disowned on her wedding day, Iris is suddenly approached by Gordon Graff, the enigmatic and highly controversial billionaire and also her ex's uncle, who asks for her hand in marriage.

His goal: make her family and ex pay for everything they've done to her.

But what happens when the line between pretence and true love begins to blur, and dangerous secrets begin to unfold?

Will the man who has promised to protect her be her doom? And will she be a casualty in his dangerous game of revenge?

"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.