1604 Book(s) Related to unnie i like you manga

Six years of marriage, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, she would see me someday.
Yet she never gave me a hug, never called our son "sweetheart" once, and couldn't even stand him calling her "Mom."
She said I was calculating, that I was shameless.
I laughed. So, in her eyes, my love was a scam from the very beginning.
So, I signed the divorce papers and left town with our son.
I thought it was all over.
But then she said,
"I'm not leaving you."

Wearing a plain black velvet dress and zero jewelry, I sat quietly in the back row of the Royal Charity, completely invisible among London’s glittering elite.
My only goal tonight? Winning an 1890 Victorian pink diamond for my engagement ring. My family in the Scottish Highlands had just arranged my marriage to Phil Graham, London’s hottest real estate heir.
"Starting at £8,000," the auctioneer announced. I raised my paddle.
Instantly, a flashy woman behind me sneered and raised hers. "Are they letting just anyone into charity galas now?" she loudly mocked to her friends. "Dressed like a department store clerk, and she thinks she can bid on antique jewelry?"
I ignored her, calmly raising my paddle again: "£15,000."
Furious, the woman stood up, her voice echoing across the silent ballroom. "£20,000! I suggest you back off, poor girl. My brother is Phil Graham, CEO of Graham Real Estate. This necklace is mine."
I slowly looked up at her. "Graham Real Estate? What a coincidence. ”
I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé right in front of her.
“Phil?” I said lightly. “It seems your little pet sister is trying to hijack my engagement diamond. How exactly do you want to explain this to me? Should we cancel the wedding?”

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...

Lysander’s ex-girlfriend, Evangeline, suggested a hiking trip. Out of obligation to me as his fiancée, he brought me along.
We got lost in the woods and trespassed onto the territory of his half-brother, Orion.
When Orion pointed a gun at us and forced him to choose—
In my past life, he chose me.
As a result, Evangeline was sold to a rival, Matthias, and was tortured to death. I spent the rest of my life bearing the full weight of Lysander’s hatred.
In the third year of our marriage, I lay in a hospital bed after a miscarriage. He stood coldly beside me and said, "Now you know how it feels to lose the love of your life."
Reborn into this life, as Orion’s gun points at me and Evangeline once again, I make the choice for him.
I’m leaving the chance to survive to his true love.

I survived three miserable years inside a romance novel—only to watch the hero and heroine claim their perfect ending.
The villain was stripped of his title, beaten nearly to death, and sold for ten taels.
So I bought him.
Adrian Vale assumed I wanted his body. I wanted the fortune he had wasted on the heroine.
My plan was simple: reclaim his gifts, sell them, and retire rich.
I never expected him to return months later, penniless and fully recovered.
“You bought me,” he said. “My money belongs to you. So do I.”
The original love story was already over.
Unfortunately, mine was just beginning.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

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...

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

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 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.

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

My best friend Tiffany was obsessed with those novels where a mafia don spoils his woman rotten.

She was convinced she was the type of girl who could make a ruthless boss go soft, so she went after Vincent, the heir of a crime family, and got him.

His bodyguards, his dirty money, even the way he told her not to ask questions and just sit tight. She read all of it as devotion. And of course she had to drag me into it too, always with the same excuse: it was for my own good.

Last time around, her mess got me killed. Vincent's enemies mistook me for one of his people, and I died in a shootout that had nothing to do with me.

The second the blade opened my throat, all I could think about was her holding up a bloody knife, grinning, showing it off to me like a trophy.

"Margot, look. He gave me this. It means we're official now."

I remember feeling disgusted. I never thought that same knife would end up slitting my throat.

Blood pooled across the street while she hid in Vincent's arms, screaming, hands over her eyes. Later I heard her crying to someone, saying it wasn't her fault, that I just had bad luck.

I died inside her little romance fantasy. A nobody side character, wiped off the page without a second thought.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the afternoon it all started.

"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.

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

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.

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.

My marriage to Lucas was nothing but a cold-blooded mafia alliance. There was never any love between us.
His heart had always belonged to my best friend, Chloe. From the beginning to the end, I was never in his eyes.
And me? All I ever wanted was a sweet, honest love story of my own.
With his silent permission, I went looking for love online. But on the day I met my so-called online boyfriend for the first time, I was shoved into a lake and rescued by Chloe’s fiancé, Damon.
No one could have predicted that a man rumored to have no interest in women at all would react to me and me alone.
From that moment on, he caged me at his side and forced me to become his secret lover.
But this was never the kind of love I wanted. I still kept searching for something sweet, real, and truly mine.

My wife is upstairs with another man—her first love.
But I don't want to fight about it.
I'm not staying here because of her.
Her father once saved my father's life. I'm here to repay that debt.
So they pushed even further.
She wants me to give way to her first love.
Give up my seat at dinner, my trust fund eligibility, my position as family consigliere, even our couple's travel tickets.
Fine. Have it your way.
I'm leaving to go back to being the Don I was meant to be.
Hope your family can survive the mafia wars without me.

In our third year of surviving the wasteland, my companions and I finally realized it was all a reality show.

The elites and billionaires on the outside had built a massive dome, tossing us into this irradiated hellhole to be tortured. They broadcasted it globally, watching us drink toxic wastewater and eat mutated meat, treating us like monkeys in a zoo.

The mole in our team knelt in the mud, sobbing, begging me to understand that it was all a script—that as long as I played along, I could live.

Without a second thought, I swung my blade. Right in front of ten million VIP viewers, I chopped off his leg.

"Crappy script," I sneered, kicking aside the severed limbs and blood on the floor. Gripping my machete, I walked toward the real world beyond the heavy gates.

To those who used our lives for entertainment: I'm coming for yours.

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.

My wife, Vanessa, believed her lover when he said I had hidden his daughter.
So she dragged my parents into a basement, tied them to a support column, and pointed a fake bomb at them over video call.
She wanted me to confess.
But I had nothing to confess.
When the explosion tore through the building, she still thought I was the one who had ruined everything. She came home the next day, blamed me for my mother’s death, then forced me to give blood to the child she thought I had hurt.
By the time Vanessa learned who had truly taken the girl, who had switched the device, and who had destroyed our family, I had already signed the divorce papers.
Some apologies arrive too late to open a closed door.

Five years into my marriage, I took off my Donna necklace at the Rossi family’s New Year’s Eve banquet and Noah still thought I could never leave him.
He stood by the long table with his mistress, Amelia, and said in front of every capo, “Some people will never measure up to her. Not even close.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just turned and walked away. On my way out, my cousin Lucas, my fixer, handed me a cup of coffee.
Three days later, he brought me two pieces of news.
Amelia was four months pregnant. And Noah was trading family territory to get his bastard child recognized by the family.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.
I stared out the window, thinking about the red lipstick stain on Noah’s shirt. Thinking about the smug look in his eyes when he told me, “I only helped her because I felt sorry for her.”
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until they think they’ve won.”
What Noah didn’t know was I was still holding one last trump card.

When the world fell to monsters, Avery was just a girl with nothing but a name.

Now she's hunted by ancient Titans—creatures from myth that should never have been real—and saved by three deadly brothers bound in blood, magic, and secrets. Damien is cold and cruel, convinced she’s hiding something. Ezra is her reluctant protector, willing to defy his own blood for her. And Rowan… wears a muzzle for a reason.

They say she’s marked. Chosen. That the Titans want her for what she is, or what she’s becoming.

She says she just wants to go home.

But love in the ruins is dangerous, and Avery is about to learn:
you don’t survive the end of the world without breaking—or being claimed.

"Aveline Ashkaar." Rhaedon's voice was low as his golden eyes held mine. "The moment you offered yourself to become my Luna, everything about you became mine. Your life, your obedience, your blood... including the abilities that flow through it."

He paused, his gaze never leaving mine.

"And I don't share what's mine."

☆

I died on my son's death anniversary, betrayed by the man I'd devoted my entire life to, and the woman who stood by, smiling as I took my last breath… was my very own sister.

When I opened my eyes again, I was five years in the past—before the betrayal, before my death and before the beginning of it all.

This time, I refused to marry the man who destroyed me.

Instead, I walked straight into the arms of the only man the entire Empire feared—Crown Prince Alpha Rhaedon Ashkaar.

Rhaedon was everything Lucien wasn't.

Dangerous. Competent. Powerful.

And the perfect weapon for my revenge.

He wanted the throne. I wanted vengeance.

It should have been the perfect alliance, but revenge was never that simple.

With every step I took toward my revenge, another secret from my first life came to light. The deeper I dug, the more I realized I wasn't the only one playing this game.

And by the time I uncovered the truth...

Walking away from Rhaedon Ashkaar was no longer an option.

"Before we start, I put a sleeping pill in the wife's milk,No matter how loud we get tonight, she won't wake up."

The mistress whispered with a cruel smile.

Nora Hearst lay hidden beneath the bed, listening to the ragged breathing of her husband and her so-called best friend on their marital bed.

They even found her wheelchair too much of an obstacle, casually dragging her fragile body onto the freezing floor.

The man who had pursued her for four years

a man who once claimed he would die for her——was now whispering to that woman:

"Nora can't satisfy me, but you... you're wild enough."

Her hand tightened around the voice recorder hidden in her sleeve.

Memories flooded back: the car accident where she sacrificed her legs to save his life, and the precious surprise growing inside her womb that he had been so eagerly awaiting.

Kennedy Frederick , she vowed silently, in sixty-six days, I will make you kneel and listen to every second of this recording.

I will destroy you at the very moment you think your life is perfect.

I watched my boyfriend down on one knee proposing to another woman.
Turns out that he was cheating on me with her for two years.
Our five years together meant nothing to him. He claimed that he needed her money –connections and that I should be the one to play the role of a mistress. I refused.
I didn’t stick around. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I wanted something strong to numb my pain— and yes, I ended up in the loudest club.
Then I met him, Adrian Foster. The wealthiest and powerful CEO.
The moment I lost my balance, he caught me and pulled me straight in to his chest.
Fate? I didn’t believe in it.
But may be …. He did.

The night they came for my sister, I cut my own palm and offered the Devil a better bride.

I did it in front of the whole city. I thought I was just a substitute, a disposable girl thrown into the fog to save the sister I loved. But when the Devil appeared—tall, dressed in black that drank the light, with eyes like pale, cold coins—everything changed.

He didn't kill me. He reached out and closed his freezing hand around my bleeding wrist. That was when he saw it. The old silver mark I had carried since birth, hidden under my skin. The moment his thumb pressed against it, the mark woke, blooming with blinding silver light. His stillness wasn't that of a monster choosing his next meal. It was the shock of a man who had just found the one thing he prayed never to see.

"You are not the one they chose," he said, his voice carrying into every frozen corner of the square. The cold rushed out of the air. He turned my hand toward the dying light, his face cracking open to reveal something far worse than cruelty.

"You were never meant to be mine," he whispered softly, his grip tightening like a vise. "And now I cannot give you back."

I was reborn one year before my husband fell in love with another woman. This time, I successfully took her place and became the idealized figure, the one admired and longed for by my husband and her other suitors.

I almost died giving birth to my daughter. The doctors gave me a thirty percent chance of survival — and I took it, because I thought a child might finally make my husband choose home over her.

I was wrong.

I stood in the hallway and listened to Kael tell his mother that I was "more resilient" — that the risks of childbirth were too serious for the woman he truly loved, so it had to be me. I was not his wife. I was a vessel.

Then my daughter, the child I had bled for, looked me in the eyes and said she wished Ivy were her mother instead.

That was the night I stopped waiting.

I filed for divorce. I walked out. I reclaimed the research career I had abandoned for a man who never saw me. And I told myself I was done.

What I didn't expect was the little boy I pulled back from the edge of suffocation — a child with no parents, a face I couldn't stop feeling I recognized, and a medical robot I had designed with my own hands tucked inside his coat.

Who is he? And why does finding him feel like the beginning of something I'm not ready for?

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.

They thought he was dead.

They were wrong.

After years of war, bloodshed, and survival, Ares McKay returns to Chicago only to find his sister buried in the ground.

The people responsible are untouchable.

Political dynasties.

Billionaire families.

Criminal empires hidden behind luxury and power.

But Ares has spent five years becoming something far more dangerous than they could imagine.

One wedding turns into a massacre.

One city is pushed to the edge of chaos.

And one man begins a campaign of vengeance that will shake the foundations of every powerful family in Chicago.

Because when they murdered his sister...

They declared war on the wrong man.

Bryson POV
Blackridge University was already a nightmare before I dumped hot coffee all over Julian Hayes.
He's tall, built, with this perfect smirk that makes me want to punch him. Captain of the hockey team and the biggest asshole I've ever met.
He destroyed me in front of everyone. Made sure I knew exactly where I stood.
But then I joined the hockey team to make my mom happy, and suddenly everything changed. I could actually play. And Julian? He started looking at me like he wanted to destroy me in a whole different way.
Now every practice feels like war. Every time we're alone in the locker room, I can barely breathe.
I hate him.
I want him.
And I'm pretty sure he knows it.

Julian's POV
I run Blackridge University. Team captain, golden boy, everyone wants to be me or be with me. Then some transfer kid crashes into me and ruins my shirt.
Bryson Miller.
Smart mouth, cheap clothes, and eyes that look at me like he's not impressed.
I should've crushed him and moved on. But the little shit joined my hockey team and turned out to be good. Really good.
Now I can't get him out of my head. Every practice, every fight we have feels like something else entirely. Something I don't want to think about.
I thought that was complicated enough.
Then I walk into my house tonight and find Bryson unpacking boxes in my living room..

When Leo Ross came home, his daughter was dying.

His wife was gone.

And every door to the truth was guarded by armed men.

Most people would call the police.

Leo declared war.

A former Delta Force legend, Leo tears through gangs, mercenaries, and criminal empires in a desperate race to save his family.

But the deeper he digs, the darker the truth becomes.

Someone has been planning this for years.

Someone powerful.

Someone who wants him dead.

They stole his wife.

Now he's coming for everything they own.

There had been a prophecy told
for generations. It was common knowledge among all supernatural beings, whether they were good or evil. This prophecy was also known among the gods, titans, and demigods.
A runt wolf would meet her beloved and start one of the worst wars the supernatural world would ever see. The runt wolf would need to do everything she could to defeat the titan, Atlas.
Will she be able to overcome the challenges and defeat Atlas?
Or will Atlas win and bring the gods to their knees, ruling over the world as he had desperately wanted to do for eons?

Shantel Leaster is twenty-five and, to put it simply, a mess. She’s clumsy, spoiled, and never on time. Her parents, tired of her careless ways, cut her off and force her to survive on her own. After hopping from one failed job to another, Shantel finds herself desperate, with nothing but her small car, a pile of rejection letters, and a growing sense that life is passing her by.

That’s when she crosses paths with Kelvin Zee. He is everything she’s not: disciplined, powerful, respected, and blind. At first, Shantel doesn’t know how to feel about him. He’s cold and intimidating, but there’s something magnetic about him, something that makes her want to stay. Kelvin offers her a job as his personal chef, and though she doubts herself, she takes it.

“You don’t know Adrian Kane,” the message read.

“And if you stay married to him… you might not survive long enough to find out. You haven't seen the worst of him yet.”

Sold into a marriage with the powerful and mysterious billionaire Adrian Kane to save her family's failing wealth, Evelyn is left to handle being a nobody at home and a decorative wife in public.

Behind Adrian façade, lies a darkness no one dares question… and secrets capable of destroying far more than Evelyn’s fragile freedom.

Just as she begins to accept her fate, the past she never truly let go of returns...her first love. The man who once promised her a future now stands before her again, offering the life she thought she had lost forever.

Caught between the dangerous husband she barely understands and the love she never stopped feeling, Evelyn is forced to choose.
But as Adrian’s secrets begin to surface, one terrifying truth becomes impossible to ignore...

Did she marry a billionaire…

or a criminal wearing his mask?

And when the truth finally comes out, will Evelyn stay with the man she married…

or run back to the man she once loved?

Adam Blake travelled into the future over two thousand years later in the era of great interstellar development and became a small, down-on-his-luck lord of a planet in the Milky Way Galaxy. He activated the pirate system, and from then on became a pirate lord who made people scared. A certain Baron, ‘What! That madman came to my territory and looted the natural ingredients again!' A certain Viscount, ‘Bastard!...

Sophie Bennett is a ghost. A scholarship student at Crestview Academy, her only goal is to stay invisible and get close to Daniel Vale, the golden heir her family desperately needs her to befriend. Daniel is perfect, kind, and safe. But on her first day, a wrong turn puts her in the path of the "Wrong Brother."

Harrison Vale is the school’s shadow. He’s dangerous, silent, and feared. While the world sees Daniel’s light, Sophie is inexplicably drawn to Harrison’s darkness. As Serena Cole and the elite "Royals" of the school target Sophie for her low-income roots, Sophie finds herself caught between two brothers: the one who can save her future, and the one who might destroy her heart.

Lu Chen was supposed to die.
The empire remembers him as the cruel noble destined for execution. But now, a struggling writer has awakened in his body and the rules have changed.
[Sin System Activated.]
To survive, Lu Chen must feed on the envy, greed, lust, wrath, pride, sloth, and gluttony of those around him. Every sinful desire they feel fuels his power. But if he dares to be good… the system punishes him.
Now, Lu Chen doesn’t just play the villain he reinvents it. He manipulates, deceives, and dominates, turning the empire into a web of ambition and fear. Allies, enemies, even the heroine no one is safe from his calculated games.
Power is addictive, but Lucian is learning a terrifying truth: the system didn’t choose him to survive. It chose him to become the ultimate monster.
How far will he go when the villain refuses to die?

[From the Cold Blooded series]

In the city where shadows trade secrets and blood seals deals, Noah Bellion is a name whispered like a warning. They call him the Devil from Nowhere—a man of charm as sharp as the knife he hides beneath his tailored suit, a strategist who bleeds without flinching and smiles like sin itself.

Elodie, a quiet florist girl with secrets of her own, steps into his world searching for her missing brother. But Noah sees more than her desperation—he sees what she’s hiding. Something dangerous. Something he wants.

Their attraction is undeniable, but so is the quiet war between them—desire twisted with mistrust, fear tangled with fascination. Because Noah isn’t just the man who could save her. He’s also the man who could ruin her—and make her love him for it.

“You're afraid of me, Elodie… but not enough to stay away.”

"No, I still want to run. I'm afraid of you."

"Good. Fear means you know exactly what I can do to you."

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

My three-year-old daughter Elsie called her father Dorian while I lay dying on the floor beside our bed.
"Daddy, the bad magic hurt Mommy. Please come home."
"If she wants to die, let her." He called us liars, then went back to cut the birthday cake for Selene—his foster sister and first love.
What he did not know was that the curse that killed me that night had been meant for him.
Now I can only watch. My little girl tucks coats around my body to keep me warm. Her father walks past our bedroom door again and again, certain I'm just sulking, because the woman he chose told him so.
By the time Dorian finally opens that door, there is nothing left to save.
He will learn the truth. He will beg.

They put the calm ones on graveyard. I'm calmer than calm - I can't read a face to save my life, but give me a voice and I'll tell you what you ate for dinner and what you're lying about.

3:07 a.m. A woman calls. A struggle. The line dies.

By sunrise there's no body, no report, and the call I logged has wiped itself clean - like it never rang. The whole city is asleep on it.

But I've never trusted the system. I keep my own copy of every call.

He erased her. I kept the tape. Now he just has to find out the night guy nobody looks at has been listening the whole time.

For six years I kept the books nobody wanted to touch.
They called me the help. My husband signed my name to a loan I never saw. His mother told the whole family I was the reason there were no grandchildren.
At the anniversary gala, they planned to retire me quietly — and hand my desk to the woman my husband had been paying out of company accounts.
They forgot one thing.
Before I married into this family, I spent six years catching men who move money the way they do. I never stopped keeping a second set of books.
I let them think the game was already over.
It was — for them.

Ten years ago, Heaven's War God Kevin fought an earth-shattering battle against the Demon King. Kevin was ambushed and gravely wounded, falling from Heaven to the mortal realm.

A young girl named Alice found the blood-soaked Kevin by the river while gathering herbs and treated him with medicinal plants.

Moved by her kindness, Kevin decided to stay in the mortal world to repay her debt, but he discovered that using his power would attract the Demon King and bring destruction to the human realm.

Kevin voluntarily sealed ninety-nine percent of his power and stayed by Alice's side, helping her gather herbs and heal people.

Two years later, Kevin confessed his love to Alice and they became husband and wife, opening a clinic in a small town where they saved countless lives and were known as the "Holy Couple."

"I'm six weeks pregnant with Asher's baby," my husband's mistress texted me, attaching a photo of a torn condom wrapper on my husband’s desk.
"If he really loved you, what am I?"
I just called a secret number.
"Are you sure you want to activate the Ghost Protocol?" my brother asked over the encrypted line.
"Once done, your identity is erased. You will cease to exist."
"Do it," I replied coldly.
My billionaire husband thinks he can keep his perfect marriage and his wild mistress.
He has no idea that his gentle, low-profile wife is actually the most dangerous princess of the New York Mafia.
I gave him a 15-day countdown.
On the final day, he opened his "anniversary gift"—only to find his cheating evidence and a house completely emptied of my existence.
He tore the city apart looking for me, going insane.
But how do you find a woman who never legally existed?

I died the day I caught my fiancé cheating.

I had walked in on my cousin and my fiancé, completely naked in the backseat of a brand-new Porsche. It was a car bought with stolen money—embezzled from the estate of my recently deceased grandmother, Margaret.

Panic had set in the moment I discovered them. To stop me from calling the cops, he slammed his foot on the gas.

As a pool of warm blood spread beneath my head, I heard him lying to the first responders: "She’s mentally unstable. She threw herself right in front of the car."

I died exactly like that—labeled a hysterical, suicidal woman.

But just when I thought it was all over, my eyes snapped open.

The hot blood that had just blurred my vision, the shattering agony in my bones—it was all gone.