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A short contemporary domestic-drama romance. Clean to sweet. Happily ever after.

My husband's family slid the folder across the table — sign here, family helps family, it's just a signature.

What they didn't know: I had almost three million dollars in an account none of them could find. I silenced the alert before the number could glow.

They think we're the broke ones. For four years they've bled the kindest man I know dry, dressing every demand up as love and cashing it. So I let them keep believing it — and I built a wall they will never see.

They're about to find out what happens when you spend a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

And this time, I'm not the one who pays.

“You watched me burn… and chose to save your lover?” I whispered, hatred blazing in my eyes.
“Then I will watch you and your empire turn to ashes.”
“Wife, come home,” the cold Don said warmly. “The bed is empty without you.”
“Mommy, please come home,” my son cried with big fat tears. “I want to hug you to sleep.”
I laughed bitterly. “I hate you both.”
“Yes, Mommy,” they said at the same time, “we love you too.”
“WHY ARE YOU TWO NOT FOLLOWING THE SCRIPT?”
—----
Once, Elena Moretti was the perfect Mafia wife. Silent, loyal, and willing to sacrifice everything for her husband and son. And for that devotion, she was repaid with betrayal and death.
Reborn in the fifth year of her marriage, just before everything spirals out of control, Elena refuses to love blindly again.
This time, she chooses herself.
She divorces the man she once worshipped.
She walks away from the child who loathes her and calls another woman “Mom.”
But fate is treacherous.
The cold Mafia Don who slowly realizes he has lost the only woman who ever truly loved him.
The son who begins to feel the emptiness left by his mother’s absence.
Join Elena’s journey of self love, healing and a second chance at love.

Seven years of marriage turned to ash the moment I discovered my husband had arranged for his sister-in-law to carry his dead brother's child—using his own sperm to continue the family bloodline.
Lorenzo Corvino—New York's most ruthless don—would drive three hours through a storm just to get me imported cherries. He held me at my mother's funeral, crying until dawn. He hospitalized a man for disrespecting me at a charity gala.
I thought I was the center of his world.
Until the private investigator's flash drive revealed the truth: Lorenzo at the clinic for Claudia's prenatal appointments, his hand on her pregnant belly, whispering "Marco would be so proud."
In the end, on the Corvino family's scale of priorities, continuing his dead brother's bloodline would always outweigh his infertile wife.
The night the yacht exploded, the New York sky burned red. The news reported the mafia don's wife had perished in the flames. He collapsed on the dock, clutching the charred wreckage, breaking down completely.
But he didn't know—
That "dead" woman was across the Atlantic on the Amalfi Coast, one hand on her seven-week baby bump, protecting the secret he'd never discover.
Seven months later, when he stepped into my new life and saw the infant with his deep brown eyes cradled in my arms—
This man who'd built an empire on violence and fear finally understood what he'd truly lost.
And I'll spend the rest of my life making sure he knows: some betrayals are so deep, even "I'm sorry" is more than he'll ever deserve.

To save my wife’s family, I buried my name, wore myself down, and let a few strands of my hair turn gray while caring for her on the edge of death.

Three years later, she slipped into custom Chanel and slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me.

With her arm wrapped around a so-called old-money heir from Wall Street, she mocked me as a worthless nobody who couldn’t even afford a luxury handbag, a bottom-feeder who was never fit to stand beside her.

I signed my name without a word and watched her leave in triumph.

What she didn’t know was that the man preaching investments was nothing more than a Ponzi fraudster facing multiple charges.

And when the conference room door closed, Manhattan’s most feared ice-cold attorney bowed to me at a perfect ninety degrees and welcomed me to unlock the seventy-billion-dollar trust fund and take back control of the entire conglomerate.

A few months later, inside a women’s maximum-security prison in Brooklyn, she was dressed in a filthy, tattered prison uniform, sprawled across a floor slick with dirty water, sobbing as she was beaten and begging for my forgiveness.

I simply lifted my whiskey and calmly switched off the surveillance feed.

She loved him with all her three lives, only to be used and hurt repeatedly. When she returned to the wedding day for the fourth time, the phoenix refused to be trapped any longer. Betrayal ended, revenge arrived, and her destined dragon finally came to take her home.

I am Seraphine Marchwood. For five years, I gave every piece of myself to Alpha Veyron, convinced our mate bond was fated—until the night I accidentally overheard the truth.
He never wanted me as his mate. The entire proposed bond was nothing but a cover, a farce to hide his scandalous affair with Ophelia, the woman he actually loved. She was carrying his pup, and I was just the disposable, respectable shield to keep his reputation untarnished.
I ran that night, blind with grief and rage, until I crashed through the rotting beams of an old, rain-soaked ruin. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the taste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of his voice calling my name, too late.
When I woke up, I didn’t recognize him.
And for the first time since I’d known him, he looked terrified. The cold, unshakable Alpha who’d cast me aside without a second thought was panicking, desperate, scrambling to bring back the version of me that had loved him more than anything—even as a new, unforeseen path began to unfurl before me.

I woke up back on the night Rhys’s Blood Tide Frenzy hit.
This time, I wouldn’t offer my blood to calm him. Instead, I sent an urgent Message Crystal to Seraphina—his precious white moonlight.
In my past life, I saw Rhys’s Blood Tide spiraled out of control, threatening to tear his body apart.
In my past life, when he commanded me to call Seraphina, I had let my pathetic, unrequited love blind me.
I offered my own body as the cure, desperately weaving the Origin Blood Seal with him.
Not long after, I fell pregnant with his half-blood child.
He had no choice but to plan our wedding. On the big day, Seraphina was ambushed by blood hunters.
She sent ninety-nine distress blood signals, yet he was tied up with wedding duties and never saw a single one.
After his beloved nearly died, he laid every ounce of blame on me.
When I went into labor, he locked me away in the Blood Dungeon. He drained every drop of my Origin Blood in a ritual meant to resurrect Seraphina, leaving me and our unborn baby to die in agony.
As my life slipped away, his words echoed in my ears: I’d ruined his one true love, and both me and the child deserved to perish.
When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to that night.

Humans aren't supposed to survive carrying a vampire's child. The immortal blood drains you dry.

Valentine was a pureblood vampire Duke. I was just a mortal. But I was stupid enough to think love was stronger than biology.

Four years ago, I tore myself apart on the birthing bed to bring a half-blood into this world, only to wake up staring at Valentine’s back.

His late father’s favorite concubine, Cecilia, had already snatched my baby from the cradle. And my husband acquiesced to it all.

"He looks just like me," Cecilia purred, tracing my newborn's cheek. "Thank you for giving birth to my son."

Then she tossed a blood jade onto my sheets, like I was some cheap baby-making machine.

I didn't take the payoff. I grabbed the heavy stone and hurled it straight at Valentine’s face.

For four agonizing years, I fought to get my baby back. I hired mercenaries, rogues, and shadow-smugglers, bleeding myself dry to breach the Duke’s estate. Every single attempt failed.

Until tonight. A terrified servant smuggled out a whisper that stopped my heart: Cecilia had fed my son "diluted holy water"—a twisted sacrament meant to literally burn the human half out of his organs.

I didn't hire anyone this time. I tore through the gates myself. I took a guard’s spear through the shoulder and let cursed brambles shred my arms to the bone, just to drag my dying boy out of a burning greenhouse.

But when the agonizing pain of the holy water woke him, Luke looked at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"It’s your fault! It’s your filthy human blood!" My four-year-old son spat the words like venom. "Mother Cecilia says if we just burn out this curse, I can be the true heir! If it weren't for you, Father would have claimed me by now! I hate you!"

I froze.

When I finally spoke, my voice was a raw, inhuman scrape. "Call me Mom one last time, and I'll walk out of your life forever."

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

Nineteen times. That's how many times Elliot had walked out on me while we planned our wedding.

Standing in the bridal shop, he didn't even bother to sound sorry. "Cecilia, it's Vivienne. Another panic attack. She's alone—it's not safe. I have to get to her."

Margaux, my biological mother, shot me that look. "Your sister is suffocating, and you want to make this about a dress? Be the bigger person, Cecilia."

I watched him leave. No hesitation. No looking back. And for once, I didn't beg him to stay. Didn't crumble in the dressing room like I had eighteen times before.

I turned to the mirror. The bride staring back wore thousands of dollars in ivory silk. Her eyes were dead.

"Help me out of this," I told the saleswoman, whose face had gone pale. My voice came out calm. Almost pleasant. "I don't need it anymore. There won't be a wedding."

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.

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

I barely escaped the Valley of the Dread Dragon, my magic completely drained. A betrothal awaited me in Winterhold. But the moment I arrived, my fiancé Arthur refused to acknowledge who I was. He stood by and watched as his socalled true love Elena stole my wand, scarred my face, and swore to strip me bare and parade me through the streets. He thought he stood above me, blind to exactly whom he was defying — I held his entire family in my power. When my brother Damian arrived, he did not merely rescue me. He gave me the chance to pay back every wound and humiliation I had suffered, one by one.

Young love and devotion fell to his marital greed. In reckless indulgence, Nate ruined his lifelong lover and family. He sided with his mistress, ignored my agony and child loss, and pushed me into despair. Seven years later, the once-glorious Wall Street elite fell utterly abandoned and destitute. Repentant and desperate, he begged for redemption. But his belated love now only meets my cold, unwavering indifference.

Ryan loves me deeply—at least that's what everyone says. Seven years together, we look like the perfect couple to outsiders. But only I know he's betrayed me three times.

The first time was three years ago. His brother died saving him, leaving behind his widow Sophia—Ryan's unforgettable first love. He married her behind my back. When I found out, I completely fell apart. I have dignity. I refuse to be the other woman. I wanted to leave, but he begged on his knees. "This is just to take care of my sister-in-law. Once I find the truth about my brother's death, I'll divorce her. Then we can get married."

I believed him. I forgot that a man never lets go of a lost love he's gotten back.

The second time was at last year's company anniversary. In front of everyone, he introduced Sophia as his wife. I watched them on stage, a knife through my heart. That night he explained, "It's just for show. Once everything's over, we can be together."

I believed him again.

The third time was two weeks ago. Surveillance footage showed Ryan with Sophia entering a hotel room. I rushed to confront him, but heard her voice outside his office. "Ryan, I'm pregnant. It's your baby."

Through the crack in the door, I see him hesitate. In that instant I understand.

He's going to keep her.

He spots me and rushes out in a panic. "It was an accident! Let me explain! After she has the baby, I'll give her money and make her leave. She won't be in our lives anymore!"

In that moment, I finally wake up. There will be no future for us.

On my birthday, I lost my pup from overwork, and at the same moment, a photo popped up on social media—my boyfriend kissing another woman under fireworks.

The caption read: "Found my lost mate."

I finally understood: I was nothing more than a replacement after Kathy left, a temporary harbor while he waited for his true love.

I quietly signed my resignation letter, burned eight years of memories, and turned to leave Stone Lake Pack.

Then, I met another Alpha.

Dangerous, captivating, untouchable—yet he dropped to one knee at our first meeting: "Marry me."

I nodded yes, but my ex lost his mind.

At eighteen, I gave my virginity to Hunter in his bed.

I swallowed all the pain and hesitation, naively believing that three years of a pathetic crush had finally earned my way into his heart.

Until the next morning, when I heard his teammates' unabashed mockery:

"Damn, you finally bagged the nerd? How was it?"

Hunter scoffed, his tone dripping with utter contempt.

"Just messing around. If I'm bringing a real girlfriend out, it's gotta be someone on Serena's level—head cheerleader."

I wordlessly opened my college application portal, deleted the garbage local state school I had picked just to stay with him, and changed it back to Yale.

He confidently thought I would follow him blindly, until he video-called me on opening day and completely lost his mind seeing who was beside me: his own stepbrother.

Three years barren, and Jessamine walked on thin ice in the elite household. Her mother-in-law spat venomous curses daily, calling her a "worthless waste of space" and threatening to force her son into divorce.

She could still remember when Damien had severed all ties with his family to marry her—kneeling outside their door in the pouring rain, begging his parents to accept her: "Jessamine is my one true love! I can't survive without her!" Back then, she was the only woman who existed in his eyes.

But now, for the sake of family inheritance, he had the audacity to demand her consent for his childhood sweetheart Celeste to bear their child. Jessamine endured the soul-crushing agony of watching her husband entwined with another woman, night after torturous night.

Even more devastating—after Celeste delivered a daughter, Damien had the shameless nerve to declare: "The family still needs a male heir."

In that shattering moment, Jessamine finally saw the brutal truth.

A horrific car crash left me paralyzed.
The doctors said I'd never walk again. With no family left, my Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas took me to their isolated farmhouse.
They cared for me, promising their treatments would help me walk again. After everything I'd been through, I thought I'd finally found safety.
Until today, when the feeling in my legs suddenly came back—but something told me not to tell them.

I once thought I’d married the perfect husband, Kael, pouring all my heart and soul into trying to have a baby—until the birth certificate and adoption agreement in the study safe shattered every beautiful lie.
He and my dearest friend, Celeste, had long ago secretly had an illegitimate child,
and even plotted to trick me into being his foster mother, keeping me in the dark for the rest of my life.
What was even crueler was that on the very day I uncovered the truth, the doctor gave me the news—I was pregnant.
Once I faced the harsh truth, I resolutely faked a shipwreck to flee, going into hiding with my unborn child and leaving my old life behind.
He searched the entire world to find me, casting aside all his pride to beg for my forgiveness with a humble heart—but he could never win me back, not ever.

On our wedding day, my fiancé, Preston Vale, didn't come to walk me down the aisle. Instead, he brought Silas Rowan—the "unstable" son of his family's former driver.
"Walk through the ceremony with him," Preston demanded, wrapping his arm around his secretary, Lydia. "Consider it your apology for upsetting her."
Lydia smiled with practiced delicacy. "It's just a little joke, Maren. Don't be so dramatic. I'll be keeping Mr. Vale company today."
Preston looked down at me with arrogant certainty. "It's a prank. Why are you getting so hysterical?"
Seeing the smugness in his eyes, the love I had protected for five years finally shattered. I calmly turned to the quiet man standing in the borrowed suit.
"He came dressed as a groom to take his bride. How is this a game?" I stepped away from Preston and held my hand out to the supposed lunatic. "If we are going to do this, we make it real. Silas, will you marry me?"

They left me to freeze to death in our basement freezer.

The night before prom, my foster sister Leila came crying that I'd burned her Ivy League recommendation letter. My birth parents didn't even listen to one word of explanation—they threw me into that frozen hell in forty-five below.

I beat on that door until my fingers were shredded, screamed until my throat tore apart, but all I could hear from upstairs was their laughter celebrating Leila. Even Justin—the boy I'd loved since we were kids—texted calling me a fucking psycho.

As I drew my last breath, I heard Leila's soft voice outside the door: "Rest in peace, sister."

Now I'm a ghost, watching them lose their minds when the truth comes out.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

Ten years ago, my mate faked his death in the war and ran off with his childhood sweetheart.
No goodbye. No contact since.
All he left me were two things — a debt of six hundred and eighty thousand, and a notice declaring him lost, stamped four years later by people who'd never met him.
The bank took our den. I moved into a shared burrow-flat at the edge of the settlement.
Three jobs after hours. Sold blood. Scrubbed latrines. Tested tonics for the healers until my nose stopped working right.
Ten years to pay off the debt. A desk at the Missing and Fallen Registry Office, once the ceasefire finally came.
My first case file was a man the law had already declared dead.
He said he'd been young and reckless. Walked out. Never looked back.
Now his family's land was due a war reparations payout, and he needed his name restored to collect it.
I stared at the name on the form. Recognized it instantly.
Smiled.
"Insufficient documentation. Application denied."

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

My uncle has a hunting cabin in Alaska. Every December, I stay there for a few days.

This year he wasn't there—left me the keys.

When I walked in, I noticed there was a new deer head mount above the fireplace.

Not a whitetail deer. A moose. Very large.

But I noticed its eyes weren't made of glass.

Those two eyeballs looked... too real.

The pupils even contracted in the light.

I texted my uncle asking when he'd shot this moose.

He replied: "What moose?"

I looked at the mount again.

Its lips moved slightly.

Not the rise and fall of breathing, but... trying to form a word.

In my past life, I spent everything loving Ronald Wright, only to watch him chase after his first love and marry her in the end. I died alone and sick in a hospital, forgotten.

After being reborn, I gave up. On our wedding anniversary, I asked for a divorce. I walked away from being a full-time housewife and became the youngest rising star in the design world.

But something changed. The husband who once ignored me suddenly cared. He came home every day, afraid I might cheat on him.
I sneered, “One day, you’ll be the one begging for a divorce.” He laughed, “Keep dreaming.”

I waited for him to realize, just like in the past, that he still loved the other woman and would force me to leave, giving me millions in return.

But this time, he pulled me into his arms and said, “What’s money after a divorce? I’m worth billions. It’s all yours. But you—you’re mine.”

"You are like a father to me, I can't marry you."
"If you can't, then I guess you prefer to be an orphan if your mother dies."
Juliet Jones, was torned in between saving her mother's precious life, and getting into a contract marriage with her father's closest friend, George Watson.
And when she was left with no better choice, and the time is ticking faster on her mother, she got married to Mr George, to save her mother's life.
But unfortunately it was too late, and her mother died, after she had already signed a contract agreement with Mr George.

“You’re not dating anyone without my permission.”
Josh Evans has always been Eva’s biggest problem.
Not because he’s her brother’s best friend.
Not because he’s one of the most popular hockey players at school.
But because he’s been her crush for years—and the one guy her brother has made completely off-limits.
So when Josh finds out about the guy she’s been dating, he decides no one gets to date Eva without his approval.
For Eva, following the rule should be easy. She’s always known who she truly wants, even if she knows she can never have him.
But Josh has his own problem.
He knows Eva is off-limits. He knows she’s Peter’s little sister. He knows crossing that line could cost him his best friend.
So why does every guy she dates bother him?
Why does seeing her with someone else make him jealous?
And how long can he keep pretending his protectiveness is the only reason he can't stay away from her?

A year after losing her father, Hailey moves with her mother, Camille, to the small town of Ashton Hollow, a place where everyone knows everyone, rumors travel faster than truth, and the boys’ basketball team is the closest thing the town has to royalty. Hailey isn’t running toward a new life. She’s running from an old one. But basketball, the one thing her father gave her, refuses to let her go, and neither does the past she thought she’d left behind.
Determined to disappear until graduation, Hailey joins the boys’ basketball team and finds herself facing Tristan Hale, her childhood bully and the town’s golden basketball star. Their rivalry is explosive, but beneath Tristan’s arrogance lies a boy haunted by a brutal past of his own. As competition turns into trust and trust into a dangerous romance, Hailey finally begins to feel at home.
Then a student is attacked, and all evidence points directly at Hailey.
Suspended, isolated, and fighting to clear her name, Hailey uncovers secrets surrounding her new family, Tristan’s past, and the charming stepfather her mother trusts. Someone has been manipulating events from the shadow, and Hailey may be the final obstacle standing between them and everything they want.
With her future, family, love, and basketball career at stake, Hailey must discover who is behind the lies before the next move costs her everything.

Catherina Hanshaw Dalton has spent six years believing she lived a fairytale, married to billionaire Xavier Dalton, cherished by him, and building a life rooted in devotion, even amid one heartbreak she cannot control: their inability to have a child. Though Xavier assures her she is enough, Catherine senses his quiet disappointment, a wound deepened by the venomous hostility of his mother, Lydia Dalton. Lydia never misses a chance to insult Catherine’s infertility, idolize Xavier’s sister Mia and her children, or imply Xavier married beneath his status. Catherine endures it all, clinging to the one constant comfort, Xavier always defends her. Or so she believes.
This Christmas, however, Catherine’s dread of another humiliating Dalton family gathering turns into confusion. Lydia is gracious….kind, even. The manor is full of relatives, business partners, and esteemed guests, including Hunter Powell, Xavier’s ruthless business rival. The brief moment when Cathy’s eyes meet Hunter unsettles her, but nothing prepares her for Lydia’s “special Christmas gift.”
During the toast, Lydia presents Caroline Turner…a beautiful young woman who is allegedly four months pregnant through surrogacy…with Xavier’s child.

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.

Noah, usually inseparable from his father, had spent the entire week insisting that only I take him camping. His declared mission: mastering "real survival skills"—a not-so-subtle jab at his dad's preference for cushy glamping.
Liam played along, hamming it up as he swung our son goodbye. But beneath the teasing jealousy, something felt off. He packed the trunk too fast. Checked the gas without being asked. Almost assembly-line efficiency.
And that line about a last-minute client flying in from Chicago? Didn't sound like bad luck. Sounded like an excuse.
All week, he never pushed back. Just quietly, almost eagerly, waited for us to leave.
I figured he wanted the house to himself: scotch, cigars, silence.
Then the call came—and I got it.
He hadn’t cleared the house for peace and quiet.
He’d cleared it for her.

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.

At my boss's mother's funeral, I couldn't hold back my laughter, and as a result, I was treated as a lunatic, stuffed into a garbage cannon, and launched naked into an apocalyptic forest full of zombies. Everyone thought I was doomed, but they didn't know—I had been reborn 1,001 times. Unarmed and surrounded by the zombie horde, about to be torn to shreds, in desperation I clung to the last clue... When I finally uncovered the truth that could overturn everything, I laughed from the bottom of my heart. This time, I would personally end this greatest lie.

My daughter Lily was shot dead while she was performing on her own stage.
I rushed forward to shield her, and a speaker crashed down onto my right shoulder. The bone shattered.
My husband, Vincent, “shot the gunman dead” at once and sealed off the entire opera house.
When I woke up in the hospital room, the pain almost suffocated me. My right shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and when I tried to raise my arm, all I felt was a numb.
“…This isn’t what we agreed on.” The doctor’s voice was low and unsteady. “We only needed her blood sample for matching. Why did it have to go this far?”
“Lily’s blood type is a perfect match. This is the best possible outcome,” Vincent said. “I married Elena for this moment. I’ve been waiting for it.”
The doctor was silent for a few seconds. “But she’s your daughter… There’s no need to sacrifice a life, even if she is a Salaceno.”
Vincent cut him off. “You know how long an artificial heart can last. Camila’s daughter won’t hold out for long. I can’t put her through another surgery.”
“Camila’s child is the one I should cherish.”
At that moment, my blood ran cold. In his eyes, my daughter was nothing but an organ container.
He had no idea. All that talk about protecting his precious daughter—she wasn't even his.

"Abort it," my husband said, his voice completely dead.
This was the man who had just fought off the guards to save me. The man who swore to protect me. But after one single croak from that cursed one-eyed raven, he condemned our third child to death.
My in-laws held me down. My own parents watched in cold silence.
As the abortion poison tore through my body and my blood stained the carpet, they all let out a sigh of relief.
Why? Why was this entire family so obsessed with my womb? Why did everyone obey a bird over a doctor?
I thought I had married into a prestigious noble family. I thought I was just a victim of their twisted traditions.
Until midnight, when I dragged my broken body past the study and saw it through the cracked door:
Black candles. A bloody pentagram. And my mother-in-law kneeling before the portrait of a man.
I finally understood the terrifying truth...

At the engagement party, Julian tore up our agreement on the spot, selling me for a single dollar to Callum, a man rumored to be a bloodthirsty, crippled psychopath.

Our mutual friend frowned.

"Are you out of your mind? Sylvia stayed by your side through your hardest three years, and you're really going to send her off to be tortured by a freak like Callum?"

Julian casually swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"It's just a little punishment. Rosie is carrying my child and needs a title, but Sylvia is too damn proud. Not only did she refuse to step down, but she also upset Rosie and affected her pregnancy."

"Callum is a twisted cripple. Give it three hours, and she'll break down completely. By then, she'll obediently accept Rosie's existence and even willingly stay as my hidden mistress."

The friend looked at my retreating back and couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you afraid you'll push her too far, that she'd rather stay with that psycho than come back to you?"

Julian let out a light scoff.

"Absolutely impossible. She loves me so much she'd give her life for me. Even if she takes a trip to hell, she'll only beg me to be her savior."

I picked up that one-dollar coin from the floor, without a single tear or tantrum.

Later, Julian broke into Callum's estate like a madman, begging me to go back with him.

But the disabled man from the rumors simply stood up, pulled me securely behind him, and sneered, "My wife. Is she someone you are even fit to touch?"

For the top university in the North American wolf packs, transfer students aren't exactly breaking news. But this one sets the entire forum on fire.

It starts with a photo. A girl standing next to a tall, imposing man. Both faces are deliberately blurred, but that build, that presence... every wolf in North America recognizes it. The Alpha King. The caption reads: "Dad why'd you send me this 😭 I'm not ready to go public yet."

Minutes later, the post vanishes. But screenshots flood the forum.

"Moon Goddess above! Is that really the Alpha King?"

"The girl in the photo... could she be the royal princess no one's ever seen?"

The comments explode. Compliments flood in. Even my aloof boyfriend joins in.

Something feels off. I type out a comment: "The Alpha King keeps a low profile. His daughter should do the same. Posting photos like this... doesn't seem right."

Less than a minute later, the replies come.

"Who do you think you are to question her?"

"Can't stand seeing someone else do well, huh?"

My boyfriend chimes in too: "Quit it. You're embarrassing yourself."

I pick up my phone and dial a number. "Dad, since when do you have another daughter?"

To give my daughter, Lily, a childhood connected to nature, I put on worn-out overalls and carved out a small vegetable patch at the edge of the estate.
That was until today, when a vicious dog lunged without warning, sinking its teeth into Lily's calf. Blood instantly stained the dirt.
I threw myself over my daughter like a madwoman to protect her, only to be viciously whipped across the face with a diamond-studded leash.
"Where did this lowly gardener come from! You hurt my dog—can your two worthless lives afford to pay for it?"
A young woman in a haute couture white dress, her pregnant belly protruding, sneered and waved her hand. "Where is security? Beat this crazy, pathetic woman and her little thief of a bastard to death, and throw them out of the estate!"
Holding my convulsing daughter, I said, "Beat us to death? Have you asked the master of the estate?"
The woman giggled coquettishly.
"My boyfriend is the master of this estate! With just one word from him, he could crush you like an ant!"
What a coincidence.
The "masters of the estate" she spoke of... I know them both.
One is my husband.
And the other... is my son.

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

I have been with Xavier for seven years, from secret love on campus to forming a Mate Bond.
Until before the Coming-of-Age Ritual, his junior sister Lilian appeared—and everything changed.
That day, I helped him reply to a message on his communication stone and saw Lilian’s note:
“honey～what should I wear tomorrow?”
He glanced at it and said, “Sent to the wrong person.”
But when someone had used this same trick before, he looked utterly disgusted.
Why, when it came to Lilian, did it change?
On my birthday, it was worse—he said Lilian’s experimental data was problematic and left me and my carefully prepared celebration behind.
Later, I saw the video: he was teaching Lilian hand-in-hand, letting her fall into his arms, and even in her posted photo he rested his hand on her shoulder.
I confronted him with the same style of promise ring that Lilian wore, and he said,
“You’re so stubborn and weird—it’s no wonder you were bullied back then.”
That was my deepest scar.

What happens when Kyrah Bailey falls in love with the son of a tycoon, Blake Dawson and later finds out that he has strings attached with his neighbor Sabrina Johnson? Will Kyrah be able to dig out Blake's past? Will she forgive Blake or not? Torn between her boyfriend, Blake and her best friend, Scott Stone, her world crumbles down as she tries to fight for her lover forgetting about her friends and family. Will she realize her mistakes and who will she end up falling for?

Amara Cole has always believed in doing the right thing. A scholarship student at the city’s most elite high school, she’s learned to keep her head down, protect her family, and avoid trouble at all costs. But the one person she’s been warned to stay away from — Adrian Vale, the principal’s golden son — is about to turn her carefully ordered world upside down.
Adrian was supposed to be the enemy: charming, untouchable, and the reason her brother’s future was shattered. Yet, every time he’s near, her heart betrays her. And when a school project forces them together, secrets begin to unravel — secrets that could destroy both their lives if anyone finds out...
In a city where every mistake is magnified, Amara must navigate first love, jealousy, and the painful choices that come with it. Can she protect her heart without losing herself? Or will falling for the one she’s not supposed to love become the only way to truly live?

Maddison Huston loses everything in one night; her job, her home, her reputation, and the man she loved. Branded a seductress and cast aside at her ex-lover’s wedding, she is left broken, homeless, and humiliated.
One drunken night leads to a dangerous encounter with a stranger whose touch she can’t forget, only to discover he is Aldric Hawthorne, the ruthless CEO who holds her fate in his hands.


“That’s how you show appreciation?” he asked quietly. “To someone who saved you from danger? Protected you because you were careless enough to drink yourself unconscious in a bar?”
I blinked in confusion. “Protected… me?”
“Yes. And you dare accuse me of taking advantage of you? Seriously, Miss Huston?” He stopped in front of me and trailed his eyes from my legs up to my face.
I felt cornered, stupid and confused.
“No, I remember everything.” I tried to keep my voice steady but my shaking breaths betrayed me. “You kissed me, you touched me, you even…” I trailed on my last words because I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
His eyes glinted with something I couldn’t read.
“You don’t seem to have recovered from the alcohol,” he said with a smirk on his face, stepping closer while I backed away until my back hit the wall.
His arm braced beside my head, and my breath caught as he leaned in, heat radiating from his body like fire contained in a man.
“You must be so delusional to have imagined me having sex with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing so close to my ear my knees weakened.
My breath stuttered. “I didn’t imagine—”
He lifted my chin to look at him, his mouth hovered on my lips and his hot breaths hitting my face;
My heart was beating so fast at the closeness and the look in his eyes, like he was going to devour me.
Then his voice dropped into a dark whisper behind my ear.
“I don’t fuck virgins.”
My stomach flipped as his breath grazed my neck.
How did he know?

After escaping a brutal forced mating ritual in the mountains, I arrive in Manhattan alone, broken, and desperate—with nothing but the clothes on my back and a painful mark that allows my ruthless former Alpha to track me anywhere.

Everything changes when I'm rescued by mysterious Rhydian Vaughn during a deadly encounter with human predators.

But my savior makes me an unexpected offer: become his temporary mate and help him escape a centuries-old arrangement with a powerful Luna bloodline his family expects him to claim.

What I don't know is that Rhydian Vaughn is far more than he appears.

He is the hidden Alpha King.

The most powerful wolf in existence.

Yet instead of seeing me as a weak, wolfless outcast, he treats me like something precious. He looks at my silver hair—the curse that made my old pack despise me—as if it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

But why would a man who has everything choose a broken girl like me? Someone born without a wolf, who spent her entire life being told she was worthless?

I've never believed in the Moon Goddess or fated mates—not after everything I've suffered.

But what if the Alpha King's mysterious devotion means I'm actually his destined mate?

"I, Alpha Xander Finch of the Red Moon Pack,” he said. Wait, is he going to accept my rejection now? “Reject your rejection, Alpha Chastity Reid of the Silver Moon Pack,” he added, and my eyes widened when I felt something extraordinary. Maybe he felt it too because he was surprised as well. Then he carried me before he pinned me at the back of the now already closed door and kissed me and, oh goddess, I felt like I missed him for a thousand years already, so I kissed him back.


Chassy, an omega who carries the weight of her heritage, is mistreated by her mother and the Red Moon Pack for her entire existence. Her real potential, which was acquired from a father who came from a mysterious lycan clan, is hidden from her and her tormentors. She found out that Xander, her Alpha, was her mate. For some reason, he hurt her. As a result
Chassy leaves and rejects him.

But destiny has more in store for her. With the advent of her lycan beast, she unexpectedly rises to the position of alpha in her adopted pack. Then she met her father whom she never knew and found out more about herself.

The persistent vampires, push packs to band together under an alliance. Chassy's previous and present lives intersect when Xander stops by her new pack for a joint training session against this backdrop of peril and unity. Will Xander and Chassy be able to cross the gap between them? Can they stand together in the face of the impending vampire threat?

What will Chassy do when she knows that she's unable to give Xander an heir and a boy with his mother comes to the pack claiming Xander to be the father?

After eight years in the military, Frank Moore returned to New York.

He had intended to attend his comrade's sister's wedding, only to witness her being utterly humiliated by mafia thugs, forced to drink their foot-washing water.

Enraged, Frank crippled the young thug's legs, condemning him to a wheelchair for life.

Faced with assassins from both the underworld and above, Frank made a phone call.

Hundreds of elite mercenaries descended from the sky, and the entire New York mafia fell to their knees in terror.

The tide in New York was about to turn!

The first thing they took was my baby.

The second was my parents.

The third was my freedom, my eyes, and every reason to live.

My husband gave me to three men on our anniversary. He chained me in a doghouse while his mistress laughed. He fed me my own son’s remains and called it mercy.

He said I was dirty. He said I deserved it.

But the DNA test he trusted was a lie. The video was staged. And the woman he’s about to marry is the one who destroyed us all.

I tried to die. Four times.

Now I’m done trying.

They put a dead woman in the ground. They’re about to find out she brought hell back with her.

After three years of marriage, the first thing my husband did upon waking from his vegetative state was to humiliate me for my stepsister. I once thought that my three years of devoted care would earn me a shred of his affection, only to discover that he had always loved the woman who stole everything from me including my identity. For her sake, he forced me to leave with nothing and had me blacklisted throughout the city.

But what they didn't know was that the woman they discarded like a piece of trash would shed her apron and become a legendary racer who struck fear into the hearts of the entire racing world. When my husband's archrival extended an olive branch to me, this game of revenge began—who will ultimately be the winner?