1669 Book(s) Related to i got pregnant after ovulation stories

In my last life, the heatwave collapse began with me turning an abandoned warehouse into a safe zone. I stocked it, fortified it, and brought my girlfriend inside. That same night, she slid the bolts open from within and let an armed crew storm the place. They threw me out to die.

I survived the heat, only to learn too late that it was just the warning. The real purge came next, when brutal cold hit overnight and froze me to death in the snow.

Then I opened my eyes and found myself back one month before disaster.

While everyone else rushed to buy water and fans, I was the only one who knew the heat was just the beginning. The deep freeze was what would really wipe people out.

This time, I explained nothing. I poured everything I had into diesel, insulation, winter stoves, generators, and turned that warehouse into a fortress built for the cold.

She came again, just like before. This time, I never let her through the door. So she ran straight to the armed gang and had them surround my warehouse for three full days.

She thought trapping me inside meant she’d already won.

What she didn’t know was that in just a few more days, the freeze would arrive.

And the people outside had no fuel, no winter gear, no way to stay warm.

They weren’t waiting for me to break.

They were waiting for their own deaths.

I was a herbalist, a healer who saved lives, but I was falsely accused of spreading plague and hanged on the gallows, awaiting the flames. Then I heard them—a swarm of rats emerging from the earth, gnawing through the noose and dragging me back to the world of the living. But this was not salvation, but the beginning of a curse. Plague swept across the land, the church peddled counterfeit medicines, and lords squeezed every last grain from the farmers. The rats looked at me and whispered to me — the end has come, and you will become the calamity.

He was reborn back to the day his wife Lydia was sacrificed to the demon.

The entire demon race was laughing at me, her useless husband who was about to be thrown into the cursed land, while she, dressed in a pure white robe, rose step by step on my bones and blood, becoming the most beloved saintess of the demons.

She thought I would rot in the ashes, but little did she know that I had swallowed a World Tree seed that had been dormant for ten thousand years in my death.

An enslaved old miner, a blind but gentle apothecary, a desperate mermaid leader... I led eighteen "defective products" chewed up by the abyss, riding the wildly growing tide of life, and forcefully smashed through the demon's royal city!

When the immortal demon king was drained dry by the World Tree and knelt on the ground begging for mercy like a wild dog, my noble wife smiled and raised the sharp obsidian.

"What are demons? This throne belongs only to me."

This is a story of extreme betrayal and violent redemption. When life permeates the demon realm, all the high and mighty evils will turn into dust at the bottom of the trees!

Caroline Mercer once believed kindness could be proven by sacrifice. She took in two orphaned children, gave them schools, doctors, tutors, rooms beside her daughter's nursery, and a path into the Mercer name.

Years later, those children returned as witnesses against her. Sloane Vale smiled for the cameras while calling Caroline a monster. Nolan Vale handed federal investigators a beautiful stack of forged evidence. Caroline's husband was broken, her company was seized, and her only daughter, Evelyn, died after being traded into a marriage meant to protect everyone else's reputation.

Then Caroline opened her eyes on the morning the Vale children first arrived at her door.

This time, she would feed them. She would house them. She would educate them. She would keep every receipt, every doctor's report, every legal notice.

But she would never again give strangers the keys to her child's future.

I’m the only person on Earth with a clinically proven antibody capable of neutralizing this rare deadly virus.
I caught the virus when I was six. Its mortality rate was staggeringly high, and everyone thought I’d never pull through. Against all odds, I recovered entirely on my own. By some strange twist of biology, my body made the world’s sole antibody that could fight this virus off.
Once I turned eighteen, I signed up to donate my serum as a volunteer.
For twenty years straight, rain or shine, I showed up to donate free of charge—107 separate donations in total. Each time, I pulled a gravely ill patient back from death’s brink.
I’m no saint living to save the whole world. Every last donation was done for my mother.
Back when I was six, my father’s infidelity drove my mother to take her own life. What happened was cruel beyond measure, completely unforgivable.
A fortune-teller once told me my mom’s lingering resentment ran far too deep. To free her trapped, wandering soul for good, a blood relative of hers had to finish exactly 108 acts of good deeds.
Twenty years in, only one deed remained. Just one more, and my mother’s spirit could finally rest in peace.
But when the hospital sent out an urgent emergency SOS this time around, I did something I’d never done in two decades.
I turned their request down flat.

At the engagement party, Adrian walked in with pregnant Celeste: "Sorry, the engagement is off."

"Why?" I stared at him intently.

"The baby is Adrian's," Celeste sobbed, "I can't let my child grow up without a father..."

"You're just an orphan with no money or connections," Adrian looked at me coldly, "You're not good enough for me."

Just when I was completely humiliated, butler Steven found me. "Miss Hayes, we've been searching for you for twenty-three years. You're the long-lost heiress of Hayes Corporation."

A week later at the family reunion banquet, Adrian knelt before me: "Iris, please give me another chance!"

"You can stay by my side," I looked down at him condescendingly, "but not as my boyfriend—as my servant."

But when Celeste accidentally miscarried, the truth shocked everyone...

After the apocalypse, I joined my girlfriend and her friends as a makeshift team. I cleared infected, scavenged supplies, and stood guard at night so they could sleep.

I thought we were all each other had.

Then, for a single dose of antibiotics, they handed me to the warlord who slaughtered my entire family.

When she said, “Just endure it—I’ll find a way to bring you back,” I didn’t even have the strength to be angry. She knew exactly what stood between me and that warlord, and what would happen once I was taken.

That’s when it hit me: to them, I was always just a tool.

If she chose to deliver me into my enemy’s hands, I’d settle the three-year-old debt right there.

When we met again, she demanded to speak to the warlord chief—hoping to trade for me once more. Because without me, they couldn’t even find food.

What she didn’t know was that by the third day after she traded me away—

the warlord had a new owner.

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.

The day before Thanksgiving, my husband, David, dragged his suitcase to the airport, claiming he was flying to Seattle to meet an important client.
My parents took my younger brother to Miami for a vacation and conveniently took my six-year-old daughter with them.
With the house empty, I picked up a last-minute catering shift that paid double the usual hourly rate. I needed the extra money to cover next month's rent and buy David a gift. So I temporarily filled in as a dinner server at a mansion in Beverly Hills.
After changing into a black-and-white uniform, I entered the employer's home through the service entrance.
The person in charge was the lady of the house—a young, beautiful blonde.
She had barely led me through the hallway toward the main room when I saw several workers hanging a massive engagement portrait on the central wall.
The man in the photograph, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, was my husband of six years.
David.
I froze where I stood, my mind going completely blank.
"Move it a little to the left. Yes, that's it. Straighten it!" the blonde girl called out to the workers.
Then she turned toward me.
"What? Can't take your eyes off it? That's my fiancé."
She looked me up and down, her voice dripping with condescending, fake sympathy.
"Working on a major holiday? I guess you're not married yet."
I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "I am. But I'll be a widow very soon."

In my past life, my twin Phaedra and I were both married off to the Dragon Clan on the same day.
I was given to the eldest son Magnus, while she went to the second son Drakon.
A year later, Phaedra gave birth to a small white dragon with scales like fresh snow. Meanwhile, I delivered nine children—all of them deformed monsters, bearing not a trace of dragon lineage.
Dragon King Typhon, a tyrant obsessed with bloodline purity and beauty, immediately stripped his eldest son of the inheritance rights and decided to pass the throne to his second son, Drakon.
Consumed by rage and humiliation, my husband Magnus descended into madness.
He ordered my nine children dragged into the Shadow Abyss and thrown into boiling blood pools as sacrificial offerings. Then he bound me tightly to the frozen altar pillar.
As the crimson winds howled from the blood pool, he mercilessly cut open my chest and carved out my nine-tailed heart while I was still breathing. I drew my last breath drowning in endless despair and blood.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the Dragon Clan's towering hall—at the mate selection ceremony that had sealed our fates.
In my daze, Magnus walked straight past me. His eyes brimmed with disgust as he unhesitatingly reached for Phaedra's hand instead. The same woman who had birthed that perfect white dragon in my past life.
But the fool had no idea my children's deformities had nothing to do with me—they came from his own cursed, rotting bloodline.

"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."

I was reborn.
In my past life, for the sake of my childhood sweetheart Chiara, I rushed into a sea of fire to save her lover, but I was disfigured by strong acid. In return, I was rejected and abandoned by her, and ultimately died tragically on the street.
Reborn before the narcotics factory explosion, I coldly turned away from Chiara's pleas for help: "If it's true love, go in and die with her."
This time, I'm not a sycophant anymore; I'm going to make all those who betrayed me pay a bloody price.

I was blown up by my business partner and fiancée working together, only to wake up in an apocalyptic game where only one person can survive. They drew S-rank abilities and mocked my "worthless" wealth card. But they forgot—in a world with physical rules, money can buy sky cities, EMP bombs, and orbital weapons. Now they're kneeling in ruins begging me to open the door, while I stand atop Avalon City at 30,000 meters, finger hovering over the detonation button.

I have a cursed gift—
I can hear the voices of antiques.
A blackened silver spoon screams.
A rusted pocket watch groans.
And at London’s most exclusive blind auction, when that so-called million-pound royal jewelry box encrusted with rubies and sapphires was rolled onto the stage, my mind went completely silent.
Those dozens of dazzling gemstones were all fake glass that could not speak.
Instead, from a brass compartment hidden in the very bottom of the box came an agonized roar:
“Get me out of here… now…”
I smiled.
Europe’s number-one appraiser?
Today I’d show him what it really meant to listen to all things.

"Kiss it for me, sister…"
I had no idea the milk I drank every night was handmade by my foster brother, Luciano.
After I turned down his confession yet again, I stared at the milk he’d brought me so eagerly and knocked it to the floor in disgust.
The boy who’d always been quiet and obedient suddenly snapped.
He pinned me flat to the ground, his face inches from mine, his breath brushing my ear:"I get it. You want to drink fresher milk, don’t you?"
I never imagined the boy I’d raised all these years could spiral this far out of control with his twisted feelings for me.
So the very next day, I put him behind bars with my own two hands, determined to put an end to this messed-up obsession for good.

Betrayed and killed by the wolf king in my past life, I came back from hell. On the wedding day, I turned down his proposal without hesitation. I made a blood pact with his greatest enemy—the vampire king. Together, we avenged my child and family, and built a new future in the dark.

I was three months pregnant when I found out my husband had been cheating with the cousin I had kindly taken in.

My son said he wanted her to be his mom, then shoved me down the stairs and caused me to miscarry.

The day I lost the baby, my husband sat beside my bed. His voice was gentle, soft enough to lull someone to sleep.

“Relax,” he said. “You’ll forget all this pain.”

I closed my eyes and let him plant layer after layer of hypnotic commands in my ear.

“When you wake up, you’ll be an obedient wife.”

Now I watch them living happily ever after as a family of three.

They think I’m nothing but an empty shell.

They have no idea that I’ve already posted this plea for help online:

[HELP] My cousin is wearing my sexy nightgown to seduce my husband, I caught them cheating, and my son calls her “Mom.” But I just feel numb. What am I supposed to do?

I died on the operating table—my heart cut out, my unborn child destroyed, my identity stolen by the woman who replaced me.
Now I'm back. At the exact moment they're celebrating my replacement's victory, I step out of the shadows and into the light of my own funeral.
Tonight, I will not beg. I will not cry. I will not give them the satisfaction of watching me break.
Tonight, I become the nightmare they've been running from. For twenty years, they treated me like I was invisible. Let me show them what happens when you ignore the one person who could destroy everything you built.
I am Serena Astor.
The rightful heir.
And I will have my revenge.

In my past life, I was framed by my girlfriend and her unrequited lover, losing my job and being silenced! Reborn a week earlier, I've decided to retaliate! On the surface, I'm still the devoted boyfriend, but secretly, I've laid a trap. When the scumbag thought he'd succeeded, he found himself surrounded by the FBI; when the scheming woman thought she'd risen to power, she became a pariah. And I, not only did I successfully avenge myself, but I also built a multi-billion dollar business empire! In this life, I'll make everyone who betrayed me understand—if you mess with Marcus Sterling, you'll pay the price!

Four years ago, I left my boyfriend when he had nothing.

Now, he's a billionaire. And he's forcing me to marry him—just for revenge.

Every day it's a different girl. Now there's a pregnant influencer he flaunts in my face, destroying what's left of my dignity.

"Kneel and beg her, and I'll give you money." He holds another woman and smirks at me.

I don't cry. I don't scream. I just swallow the blood rising in my throat.

He doesn't know my brain tumor is terminal. I have thirty days left.

I've already signed the organ donation papers. I just want to die in peace.

I stopped loving him a long time ago.

I bought a handsome, aloof incubus from a clearance sale online to be my live-in maid.
For a week, he was perfect. Then he started fainting, his skin burning with a fever no amount of rest could fix. Panicked that I’d somehow overworked my best employee, I called the 24/7 Aphrodisiac (companyI bought him from) helpline.

Ma’am, our incubus models have a demonic lineage and you have got a high-output model. They have near-infinite stamina. They don't get 'feverish' from vacuuming. But... why did you have him doing 'housework'?"
"Because the house was dirty?"
The agent suddenly chuckled. "Ah, I see. Everyone has their own fantasies and kinks. Roleplay is very popular. But tell me, according to the log, when was the last time Xanthos received physical intimacy?"
"Huh?"
"Physical intimacy," the agent repeated. "Love, spoiling, skin-to-skin contact. If a male incubus doesn't get intimacy, his internal energy stagnates. They fall sick. Male models are much higher maintenance than females; they need constant affection to stay healthy."
My blood ran cold. "Affection? I bought him to mop the floors!"
"Ma'am," the agent's voice dropped. "You are on Aphrodisiac. We are the world's leading provider of supernatural escorts. Did you... did you not read the site description?"

Turns out, I hadn’t bought a demonic domestic servant.
I’d accidentally purchased a high-maintenance supernatural escort.
And apparently, if I didn’t start showing my “maid” some affection soon, he would die and I would be jailed for abusing my maid.

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."

Three years ago, on their way to attend my graduation art exhibition, the cruise ship carrying my fiancé and my family caught fire.

Over the past three years, I downed sleeping pills countless times, desperately wanting to follow them into the afterlife. Every single time, my adopted sister, Serena, saved me, crying hysterically as she shoved her fingers down my throat to make me throw up.

"They are already gone! Harper, you can't keep living in the past. You have to live on for their sake!"

After fainting from yet another high fever and being rushed to the hospital, I was diagnosed with terminal leukemia.

The doctor said I had a month left, at most.

I refused their advice to find a bone marrow match. Clutching my family's belongings, I decided to go back to our old estate in the suburbs for one last look.

While I was walking in a daze, a little boy running wildly crashed hard into my legs.

A male voice that had haunted my dreams for years rang out from behind me. "Alistair, if you keep running off, what will you do if Mommy and Daddy don't want you anymore?"

In an instant, it felt like I had been plunged into freezing water. I froze in place.

For six years, my mother Isolde believed I had committed an unforgivable sin. Under the guise of "reforming my character," she continuously injected me with neurotoxic antibiotics, confining me to a wheelchair to act as a crippled companion to my sister, Alondra.
My entire family silently condoned this punishment, favoring my sister who was merely faking her paralysis. I had long since surrendered all my dignity, numbly enduring every injustice.
On my nineteenth birthday, I humbly begged her to stop the injections for just one day. I didn't want to look pathetic in front of my childhood sweetheart, Joren.
Moments later, I uncovered the cruel truth on the balcony: my sister’s legs had healed long ago. Six years of agony had been nothing but a staged performance.
The long-accumulated drug toxicity suddenly erupted inside my body. I tumbled to the floor together with my wheelchair. Summoning the last ounce of my strength, I managed to reach a bottle of pills meant to alleviate the toxicity.
As my consciousness faded, a faint, hopeless wish lingered in my heart: I thought that if I just fell asleep, I might regain feeling in my legs when I woke up.
When I opened my eyes again, I realized with horror—I was already dead.

On our tenth anniversary, a doctor told me I had three months left.
I called Graham five times before he picked up. He was at a restaurant downtown, cutting the steak on his ex-girlfriend's plate, and he told me to stop acting like a paranoid wife.
So I never told him.
I folded the diagnosis into my coat pocket, went home, and rinsed the blood out of the sink before he walked in. Then I signed away the house, the cars, every share of the firm I helped him build. I left his ring on the coffee table, canceled the number I'd had for ten years, and checked into a hospice with nobody's name on my emergency contact line.
He thought I was throwing a tantrum. He thought I'd come crawling back the second the money ran out.
He didn't find the diagnosis until it was too late to matter.

For three years, the whole school thought I loved privileged golden boy Sebastian Grayson. I covered his mistakes, took his punishments, and single-handedly turned his rebellious self into a Harvard admit, enduring endless mockery for my one-sided devotion.
Yet every obedient act was never love — only a contract deal.
When we reunite at a Harvard banquet two years later, Sebastian craves a second chance.
But he is too late. I will never return.

To help his life-saving benefactor, he personally pressed a pregnant me on the operating table to draw bone marrow.
I cried and begged him, "James, I'm pregnant. It's your child. Don't do this to me..."
But he had a look of disgust in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you'd lie about something like that just to get out of helping Mandy?"
Until there was a river of blood in the operating room and that unformed child turned into a pool of bloody water, he finally panicked.
Later, when he knew that the person who saved him in the fire ten years ago was actually me, he held my ashes and knelt outside the operating room for a full three days.

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.

Every time my husband’s adopted sister, Avey, had a tennis match, he would force a dark green concoction down my throat. As soon as it kicked in, my entire body would turn weak and aching.
He claimed it was a folk remedy, and I believed him.
In half a year, I lost twenty pounds, half my hair fell out, and I lost our four-month-old baby.
Until the night I overheard them whispering behind a cracked door—they had sought out a witch and cast a dark curse.
My forced standstill was the price for her endless stamina. All her fatigue and sports injuries were being directly transferred to me.
Late that night, listening to them plot to drain the life out of me, I made a choice. On the very night Avey won her championship, I climbed into a deep hibernation pod. I traded thirty days of absolute physical stasis to ensure she could never stop.

"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.

My boyfriend, Don Liam, took a bullet meant for his stepsister Violet when her ex-husband opened fire on her.
After waking from a coma, he remembered everyone in the world—except me.
Yet under the pretext of responsibility, he continued our seven-year secret relationship.
I thought he was trying to remember me.
Until my twenty-fifth birthday turned into his wedding to his stepsister.
“I’m not related to her by blood. Our marriage is perfectly reasonable.”
So it turned out he just didn’t know how to get rid of me.

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn’t even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster—my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I’d met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he’s not letting me go.

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond—he paid me off like a mistress.
"Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over."
I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known.
"What now?" my best friend asked.
I smiled. "The real me returns."
But fate wasn't finished yet.
That same night, Caesar Conrad—the Alpha every wolf feared—opened his car door and whispered, "Get in."
Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power.
"Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine.
But I didn't.
Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me.
And the one who did?
He's ready to burn the world for me.

Elena was born to lead, but her father strips her of her birthright and gives it to her younger brother. Desperate to get back at her father, she does the unthinkable: she sleeps with her father's greatest enemy, Alpha Axton.

But Axton is more than just a rival, he's her fated mate. And he's been searching for her not for love, but for revenge and a chance to destroy her father's pack. The next morning, Elena rejects him, walking away before he can trap her in his ruthless schemes.

But Axton does not take rejection lightly, and his retaliation is brutal: a leaked video, a ruined reputation, and a family that turns their backs on her drive her to flee the city in disgrace.

But when Elena disappears, she takes something Alpha Axton never planned to lose - his sons. Now, he'll stop at nothing to get them back. He wants his heirs, he wants his mate, and Elena will learn that no one runs from the Alpha.

Isabella’s world shatters when her longtime boyfriend, Damon Sanchez, publicly proposes to her best friend. Humiliated and heartbroken, she drowns her sorrows in a bar—only to wake up on the bed of Matteo Moretti, the city’s most powerful billionaire.
Their one-night stand should have been the end of it.
But when her brother Alan's illness and Damon's vengeance leave her jobless, fate delivers Isabella straight into the jaws of her most dangerous mistake—Matteo Moretti, now her ruthless new boss.
Caught between Damon’s vindictive games and Moretti’s dangerous allure, Isabella must decide—is survival worth the cost of her heart?
Especially when Matteo’s seven-year-old son, Noah, starts calling her "Mom."

‘You want divorce?’
He was shocked to see the divorce papers as a gift for our third anniversary. Even I had never thought my marriage of three years will end like that until that night when I wanted to surprise my husband but was surprised catching him crying for another woman.
That night I knew what I had to do, I couldn’t live a loveless marriage, and it was time to let it go. I took revenge of my humiliation and moved forward to live a happy and peaceful life, I chosed to love myself this time!

"You took my wedding dress for my stepsister?"
My voice was ice as I stared at the man I had loved for six years—the man I had saved with my own blood, drop by drop, through years of his illness.
Atlas Brooks couldn't meet my eyes.
"She's dying, Mandy. Susie's last wish is to marry me."
Six years of devotion. Endless blood donations. And this is what I get in return?
The man I saved wants to trade me for the sister who destroyed my family.
Let him. I'm done fighting for someone who never fought for me.
But when I tried to walk away, Atlas caught my wrist.
"After she's gone," he whispered, "we can still be together. Just... let her have this."
The dress. The wedding. The man. Let her have everything.
I'm not waiting around as anyone's second choice. Not anymore.
I'm ready to say goodbye to everything.
I thought I was leaving love behind forever.
I didn't know that at my stolen wedding, I was about to find it.

"I married you only to destroy you."

That was the only reason FBI agent Sophia Carter accepted a new identity as Evelyn Russo and married Lorenzo Moretti, the most dangerous mafia boss in Italy.

Her mission was to infiltrate, gather evidence, drag Lorenzo to prison, and save the children and women that Lorenzo Moretti had kidnapped for trafficking.

But life as a Don's wife was never as simple as she had imagined. Behind the luxurious mansion, the armed men, and the secrets of the Moretti family, Sophia found herself trapped in a game she did not understand.
The closer she got to Lorenzo, the harder it became to distinguish lies from reality.
But one thing never changed. If her identity as an FBI agent was exposed, then at that very moment, she would die at her own husband's hands.

It was funny how being betrayed could change a soul.

They were orphans. They grew up together. They survived together. They killed the tyrant Alpha together.

But when the time came for him to propose his love for her and make her his Luna, all she received was a stab to her stomach.

He betrayed her for another. For the late tyrant’s daughter.

He buried her and thought that she had died. But just like how fate had played a trick on her, it also played a trick on him.

She survived, but was stuck in the den of a ruthless Lycan King, after a mate pull, which was stronger than anyone had ever felt, pulled them together by force.

{She is Demira, and welcome to her story}
…
This book is a dark werewolf romance story that is filled with pure chaotic drama and a little bit of tension and suspense.

So, add to your libraries, because you are in for a ride that will be stuck in your mind for a really long time.

Luna Chen wanted a quiet life. Instead, she got a 1940s architect in a tailored suit who appeared in her bedroom at 3 a.m. and calmly announced:

“You’re my wife now.”

Rhen Blackwood has been trapped in her grandmother’s apartment for eighty years, bound by a supernatural contract.

The final condition? Fall in love for real… or the Spirit Broker drags his soul into eternal nothingness.

Luna doesn’t believe in ghosts. She definitely doesn’t believe in love. But Ren is infuriatingly perceptive, dryly funny, and the only person who sees straight through her walls.

As the deadline closes in, the lines between annoyance and aching want begin to blur. Lights flicker. Secrets surface.

And every time Ren’s form starts to fade, Luna realizes she might lose the one man who finally makes her feel alive.

She was supposed to fix his unfinished business.
She never expected him to become hers.

A slow-burn paranormal romance full of dark humor, haunted hearts, and one very stubborn ghost who refuses to stay dead.

I thought the scariest thing in school was the jock who harassed me. But then he vanished without a trace, and everyone blamed me.

There is no strong evidence to lock me away, so I walk the school hallways trapped in a living hell. The police watch my every move, the town hates me, and my adoptive parents treat me like an unwanted curse in their home.

Desperate to clear my name, I didn't realize the real danger was living right next door.

Xavi Moreau is the quiet, haunting boy who looks right through me. He doesn't live with his family; he lives alone in his own place. To the world, he is a handsome party guy who drinks, smiles, and blends into the crowd.

But I noticed the truth. His smiles are fake. His laughter never reaches his cold eyes. He is just copying the emotions of others to hide a dark, hollow soul.

When he notices my stares, his obsession shifts entirely to me.

Every single time he approaches me, I push him away. I deny him. I fight his terrifying presence with every ounce of strength I have left. But Xavi doesn't back down. He offers me the one thing I desperately need: a promise to find the truth and clear my name.

I wanted to find a killer to save myself, but the killer has already found me, and he has no intention of letting me go.

In my past life, they drained my blood, kicked me off the rooftop, and said, "Waste doesn't deserve to live."

Reborn into the apocalypse, I opened my palm, and seven beams of primal energy pierced the sky. The woman who cried out "the best in the world" to me just ten minutes ago couldn't even produce a spark now. The brother who wore the boots I sewed and called me trash was being chased and bitten by mutants like a stray dog, his leg broken.

They came to me with memories of their past lives, demanding, "Why did you steal our special abilities?"

In front of thousands of people, I unleashed a net of lightning, scorching those who came to block my way. They knelt in the mud, their heads bleeding from kowtowing; Elena covered her mouth, which had been slapped clean, and David trembled on his single leg, leaning on a rusty steel pipe—yet they couldn't even climb over the iron thorns surrounding my tower.

Later, they rotted into a pile of mud in the arena and among the hordes of corpses, and I didn't even look back.

Until a horde of millions of zombies besieged the city, I went out alone with my sword and shattered the zombie king with a single strike.

The entire ruins knelt down.

They thought I had stolen the light.
No. I was just a fire that burned away what should have been garbage.

Woke up with the power to command endless zombies. I guarded the fortress for my sister, only to find her tortured, drained of blood, and used as live bait. A fake hologram fooled me for two years. Now I unleash my million undead army to burn all traitors to ashes.

I am the chief architect of a quantum computing system valued at hundreds of billions in the real world.
For an AI test subject that I wrote myself, I was willing to conceal my identity as the creator and become her unseen, low-level assistant, even at the cost of taking a fatal blow for her.
Just as she was about to go public and reach the top of the conglomerate pyramid, she unhesitatingly pushed an "Organ Donation Agreement" in front of me, forcing me to remove a kidney to save the newly spawned "old money" NPC new love.
She thought that as long as I died on the operating table, she could kick me aside, this useless stepping stone, without any moral burden, and embrace the perfect capitalist marriage.
But she didn't know—
The entire world she exists in is just a sandbox test server on my desk.

Seven days before the doomsday outbreak, the wild weeds by the road spoke to me: The zombies are coming.
I rushed home, intending to take my fiancée and flee for our lives.
But outside the door, I overheard her plotting with her boss on the sofa, scheming to drain all my wealth.
"He’s just an orphan with no family or connections. No one would care even if he dies."
I didn’t push the door open.
Instead, I quietly cashed out all my assets overnight and built an impenetrable island fortress without delay.
Seven days later, the zombie hordes surrounded the city.
She and her entire family were chased by the monsters, covered in blood and mangled.
They knelt frantically kowtowing and begging for help right outside my explosion-proof gate.
I coldly locked the door tight.
"You were right," I said. "No one really cares if you die. Just go in peace."

My name is Michael Carson. On the surface, I'm a small-time analyst in Dallas, but nobody knows that I'm the sole heir to a multi-billion dollar financial empire.

The father's factory was on the verge of bankruptcy, but his wife transferred the money to her mother to open a beauty clinic, saying, "Your dad's lousy factory should have gone out of business long ago."

Her father suffered a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. She then said, "He's over sixty years old, is it worth it?"

I tolerated it. Until she discovered my true identity, she immediately turned on me, threatening divorce and taking half of my assets.

At that moment, I understood—some people don't deserve kindness.

I dialed the family number I hadn't contacted in five years.

They will never forget what happened next.

For four years, I tolerated Grayson’s blatant favoritism. He spoiled my roommate Mia with exquisite breakfasts every day, while leaving me with plain biscuits and bitter black coffee. I swallowed every unfair slight, hoping for true love. Yet he finally humiliated me thoroughly by choosing Mia over me for the elite corporate event, sneering that I was unworthy of high society. Hiding my identity as the university’s secret heiress, I stopped my father from ruining his career on impulse. I will let them attend the glamorous party—not out of mercy, but to deliver my quiet, devastating revenge. Now I only need time to decide my next move, and whether to accept my arranged engagement.

In my previous life, I ran a barbecue restaurant to support my family for ten years, but my parents secretly sold the restaurant to a gang because of my younger brother's vanity in wanting him to study abroad.
An hour later, the apocalypse began, and my little shop became a god-level safe house—
Those with superpowers who enter the store have their abilities automatically copied to the store owner; the store is absolutely safe; the store owner decides who enters and who leaves.
My family ruined my amazing little shop, and they scolded me, saying, "Who told you to be unable to keep the shop?"
I was heartbroken and torn to pieces in the mouth of a zombie.
In this life, I was reborn back to an hour before the shop was taken away.
I must protect my shop!
As for those so-called family members—let them fend for themselves in the apocalypse!

I thought I'd signed up for an immersive dating show.

Turns out it was a 99.9% death rate, globally livestreamed horror game.

And me? Half-blind without my contacts, desperate to go viral, I somehow talk my way through a death game like it's a romance.

I mistook blood for ketchup, human eyeballs for sashimi, a murderous child ghost for a kid who just needed some love.

Worst part? I fell for the guy running the place, the one who could kill you without blinking, and tried to get his number within the hour.

My teammate hissed at me, shaking. "You wanna die, fine, just don't take us with you!"

I just waved him off. It's a dating show. Relax.

On the eve of the apocalypse, I awakened a survival system: send me $5,000, and the sender can unlock a safehouse and awaken a life-saving ability.
The first person I told was Chloe, my girlfriend of three years. In return, she humiliated me in public and cheated on me without a shred of remorse.
That was the moment I finally gave up. The "nice guy" she had drained dry was dead for good.
One month later, the zombie horde arrived right on schedule. For old times' sake, I saved her one last time. And she repaid me by shoving me straight into the jaws of the mutated dead so she could save herself.
What she didn't know... was that I wasn't the only one who had awakened powers.