418 Book(s) Related to maddie ziegler west side story

The night I asked for a divorce, my husband, who claimed to love someone else, lost control.

His slender fingers gripped my slender waist, his breath hot and ragged as he buried his face in my neck and murmured, "Can we not divorce? Who is that man in the painting?"

I tried to push him away, but his fingers slipped into my underwear, teasing me.

"Can he make you feel this good?"

--

Sloane once believed that three years together could warm Jared's cold heart.

But when his ex-girlfriend returned, she, the "legal wife," instantly became an eyesore in the way.

He thought her vicious and forced her to apologize to her scheming ex, never knowing she carried his child.

"After I sign the divorce papers, I'll disappear completely." She turned and left without looking back.

After the divorce, Jared looked at his successful and beautiful ex wife and was filled with regret.

"Let's remarry." He knelt before Sloane with a diamond ring.

But Sloane turned and embraced her childhood savior instead.

This time, can Jared win back Sloane's heart?

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

"She endured hardships with you back then just for your current net worth of a billion dollars. You must use the absolute 50/50 treatment to cure the 'poverty disease' in her bones."

After my husband's childhood friend Chloe returned from abroad, she brainwashed my husband, Ethan.

From then on, he demanded we split everything 50/50. Whether it was eating, sleeping, or doing household chores, even though I was pregnant, I had to pay half the cost.

Until one day I was hit by a car. Blood from a threatened miscarriage dripped all over the emergency room. The nurse held the bill, urging urgently: "Twenty thousand deposit to save the baby! Any slower and you'll miscarry!"

Ethan took out a black card, his voice ice-cold: "According to our 50/50 rule, I'm only paying my ten thousand."

I didn't cry or make a fuss. I simply took the ten thousand he gave me and got an abortion.

In order to prolong the life of my supposedly sick "white moonlight" (my love interest), my wife forced me onto the operating table and removed my kidney while I was still alive.

To force me to leave with nothing, she even cut off my mother's medication, coldly declaring, "Your mother is just a liability that deserves to be optimized."

She thought I would wag my tail and beg for mercy like a stray dog.

Little did she know, suffering from single kidney failure, I transformed myself into the deadliest viral code before my death, dragging her business empire and that male mistress into an inescapable hell.

On the day the truth came to light, the once-powerful tech queen went completely mad. She squandered her fortune, kneeling in the frost of the morgue, kowtowing and weeping blood, begging me to look at her one last time. But she couldn't find a single hair of mine.

Because I had already made a will, ordering my remains to be cremated as high-risk medical waste.

She treated me like dirt when she was alive, and after she died, I found her disgusting and didn't even bother to leave her a handful of ashes.

My wife had an affair.
Not only that, she casually indulged her lover over the phone, allowing him to crush the bones of my right hand, known as the "Hand of God," right in front of our six-year-old child, with a stomp of his shoe. I could never hold a tool again.
Natalie thought I was just a poor, pathetic loser earning a dead-end salary, so she brazenly let her gigolo trample all over me.
But what she had no idea of was that her proud identity as a transnational female CEO was merely a toy casually tossed to her by the top old-money family I belong to in New York.
When dozens of bulletproof armored vehicles smashed through the gates and my father, the patriarch, descended like the god of death, her arrogant self finally crumbled like a stray dog.
She screamed and jumped into the icy, bone-chilling lake to retrieve the diamond ring I had discarded, wailing and begging to chop off her own hand to compensate me.
But I just held the stunning British Duchess in my arms, watching coldly as she fell into an abyss of eternal damnation.
This love, tainted with shit, whoever wants it can have it!

Five mates rejected Seraphina Vale for being wolfless, plus-sized, and “defective.”

Then the dying Lycan King offered her a one-year contract marriage.

He needs her to survive.

She needs his power to reclaim the life everyone stole from her.

But when ancient secrets awaken, Seraphina discovers she isn't wolfless at all.

She's something the supernatural world thought had gone extinct.

And the woman everyone rejected may be the only one capable of saving their king.

The day I died in a foreign country, my boyfriend was in the spotlight with another woman.

He's the man I built from nothing. Five years ago, I saved a broke orphan fresh out of college from the gutter. He said he wanted to be famous, wanted to make it to the top of the hockey world. In exchange, he became my boyfriend for five years.

I gave him the best coaching staff money could buy. Bought an entire hockey franchise and made him the centerpiece. Called in every favor I had to make him MVP.

But while he enjoyed everything I gave him, he refused to make our relationship public. Said it would "hurt his brand." He could make headlines with reporters and models, but nobody could know I existed.

He even said on national TV: "Those owners who just throw money around are pretty boring. Hockey is about skill, not money."

So why did he lose his mind when he found out I was dead?

Three months into their marriage, Stella Dawson had been diligently playing the role of a delicate, spoiled flower—pushing every button she could—until she finally drove the CEO to the brink of madness.
Alexander Sterling coldly tossed the divorce papers at her. "Let's get divorced."
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but inwardly, she was grinning from ear to ear. Good riddance to being the CEO's wife! I'm going back to being the richest woman alive!
Alexander was certain he’d never regret his decision.
That is, until he saw his ex-wife surrounded by admirers, amassing wealth, and dominating every industry she touched. Power players from all fields bowed before her, declaring, "Little sister, just say the word, and we’ll take down anyone who dares mess with you!"
Swallowing his pride, Alexander squeezed his way into the crowd of handsome men. "Sweetheart, I take it back. Let’s get back together."

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.

My adopted sister, Cordelia, conspired with her biological mother to harvest my organs alive, yet she had the audacity to claim I paid thugs to rape her.
My biological parents didn't bother to ask for the truth. They cursed me, calling me a vicious bastard, and threatened to break my legs.
My fiancé, Caspian, coldly announced the cancellation of our engagement, declaring he would marry the very murderer who killed me.
I had been dead for exactly three days. No one cared. My body was rotting back in a moldy storage room.
Through it all, my soul was trapped in the manor, forced to witness this absurd farce.
But what they didn't expect was that when they finally learned of my death—
Everyone went completely insane.

“Bro, it’s not a big deal. I’m just fucking her.”

My heart stopped.

Kendall’s voice replied, “But man, what would people think if you made her your girl? That’d be crazy work.”

“I’m not stupid,” Jalen said flatly. “I’d never make her mine. It’s only sex, nothing more. And honestly? It’s not that good anymore. I was gonna let her down easy before break.”
......

Aria, a plus-size beauty, thought her scholarship and condo arrangements were a dream until she met her roommate, Talia. Rich, spoiled, and instantly cruel, Talia made Aria's life miserable.

Talia’s new boyfriend, Jalen, was the campus golden boy. When Aria and Jalen were paired for a project, they clicked in ways neither expected from late night talks to shared secrets and undeniable sexual chemistry.

On Halloween night, during an all campus party, Aria sees Talia cheating on Jalen. One emotional night led to an affair that changed everything… until Jalen says some really damaging words to his roommate that were unforgivable and also heard by a once happy but now upset Aria. Disappointed, fed up, and heartbroken, Aria leaves campus and never looks back.

TEN YEARS LATER
Aria returns for the ten year reunion, confident, stunning, and a self-made CEO. Jalen is still gorgeous… but stuck in a miserable marriage with Talia.

She ignores him. Talia tries to humiliate her. Aria wins the room.

As she leaves, Jalen kisses her. She lets herself feel it, then slaps him and walks away.

THE BUSINESS MERGER

Jalen’s cruise line needs Aria’s brand to revamp their image. She agrees, reluctantly.

Now they’re forced to work side by side, trapped between old wounds and new sparks.

Some love stories never die. But some can burn you twice.

The elite circles all whisper that David Ashcroft is the ideal fiancé—cold, untouchable, repulsed by even a woman's fingertips.

Yet when my most intimate photos, leaked by his own hands, flood the internet, I'm left curled on the bathroom floor retching in agony—while my so-called "gynophobic" fiancé toasts with his white moonlight, Celia Davis, at their private club.

My phone lights up with his icy message: ["Remember—never dare to touch me again."]

Then Celia's text stabs through: ["Thanks for the 'portfolio,' dear fiancée. My boyfriend's skills are far more impressive than you imagined~"]

The attached screenshot freezes my blood—David's chat logs, where my photos are auctioned with the caption: ["Just a plaything. Highest bidder wins."]

So this is the truth behind his "disgust for women"—a carefully crafted mask for this long-planned humiliation.

In a world where supernaturals coexist with humans, concealing their identities to keep the peace, Don Draco Von Dimitri, mafia boss and head of one of the most powerful vampire clans in New York City, always gets what he wants.

But Leni DiCaro not only despises supernaturals but has a very special hatred for vampires in particular. So when she crosses his sights and the 200-year old immortal just can't take his eyes off her, she kicks against being anything to him with all her might. But destiny rarely seeks permission and submission oftentimes disguises itself as animosity.

The sassy vampire huntress has no idea that her life is about to change in ways she cannot even begin to comprehend. Draco Von Dimitri is obsessed and he plans on making her his in every way possible. He most definitely doesn't care what anyone thinks.

The heiress of the wealthiest family was dead. Her death was caused by a plane crash planned her adopted sister. At a young age of 17, she had mastered so many skills while conquering the world. A top professor in world-class healthcare, she topped the world hacker list, joined a mercenary group ten years ago and became the world's top assassin with more hidden talents she used with hidden identities.
After her death, she's reborn into another body known as a worthless piece of trash, an ugly fat kleptomaniac filled with scars and acne and a foolish prankster.
She was scorned by her parents and often schemed against by her twin sister. The people in the society often curse and avoid her like the plague.
Until unexpectedly her beauty suddenly came back in thousand fold and then they started to realise otherwise.
Her top agenda is to reclaim her identity back and take back her position that her scheming adopted sister stole from her at all cost!

Over the weekend, Alpha Kennard—my husband—and I were invited to attend a charity auction.
During the bidding, my husband's Beta, Joanna Morton, and I both set our sights on the same ruby necklace.
I was prepared to compete fairly, Until Alpha Kennard made the ceremonial bid for her.
"Queenie, you're nothing more than a dog I keep at home. What right do you have to compete with me?"
Just as everyone else withdrew from the bidding, I snapped my fingers at the auctioneer.
"Whatever Alpha Kennard offers—I'll outbid him by… one dollar."

To save my cousin from a car accident, my mother, a medical luminary, used me as a "human guinea pig" for twelve years.
When I was twelve, she made me inject myself with three injections of unproven new drugs every week;
when I was fourteen, she directly shoved toxic compounds into my mouth.
When my organs were irreversibly failing and I was vomiting blood in the ICU, she coldly tossed me a payment order:
"Stop pretending to be dead. Immediately kowtow and apologize to your brother, or no hospital will admit you."
As she wished, I was forced to leave the hospital and died at her glamorous new drug launch.
Later, that high-and-mighty mother, obsessed with fame and fortune, knelt for an entire night in a snow-covered fir forest, holding my crudely made urn.
Sadly, I will never forgive her.

Olivia had lived in pain for most of her life. Because of her unusually large body, people spat at her wherever she went, tripped her in front of hallway lockers, humiliated her openly.
The only light in her life was the man she had secretly loved.
He was the golden boy of campus, never short of girls to dance with. They had a one-night stand—but later, at a fraternity gathering, he mocked her, laughing about how she smelled disgusting.
The past has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it.
Olivia Evans thought she had left her painful past behind. Once known as Emma Cooper, the fat girl constantly humiliated by her classmates, she buried those memories along with her old identity. Changing her name and transforming her life, Olivia became someone far from the girl who once carried qthe weight of ridicule. But when she walks into a clinic with her daughter and comes face-to-face with Noah Ezekiel Morgan, the man who once shattered her heart, everything she tried to forget comes rushing back.
Now, with her daughter’s life hanging in the balance and a high school reunion she never planned to attend, Olivia is forced to confront the man who hurt her deeply. Will she keep her true identity a secret, or will the emotions she’s kept buried for so long rise to the surface?
The weight of the past may be harder to carry than she ever imagined.

During a police operation to pursue a serial killer, my father-in-law was taken hostage by the criminals while protecting me, and was dragged behind a vehicle for several kilometers.
I urgently called my husband for help: “Cedric, Dad has been taken hostage by the criminals. Send more people right away!”
My husband was the police department’s top marksman—only his sharpshooting skills could target the enemy and save his father!
But to my surprise, my husband just sneered, “Dahlia, I’ve only been out with Nalisa for an hour. To win my attention, you’ll make up any lie, won’t you?”
Hearing the call end, I was frozen in shock.
Then, I received a message from Nalisa with 99 bed photos of her and my husband.
“Cedric says, if your dad dies, so be it. He has no time for you now—he’d rather die in my arms.”
Anger and sorrow enveloped me. Watching my husband’s father crushed to death by the vehicle, I finally understood:
He must have thought it was my father who was taken hostage.

I loved Finley for two years.
Until 1:00 AM on a Tuesday, when his best friend, Orion, sent me a half-naked photo and a jarring voice note."
If I actually bag her, don't go flipping out on me. A deal's a deal."
I booked the first flight out to confront him, only to catch the boy I loved naked and thrusting into another woman.
But that wasn't even the part that broke me.
When my roommate bypassed the hockey team's private Discord server, I found a channel named: #locker-room-bets.
There was my boyfriend, typing the words that shattered my world: "She's boring... She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her... Play with her all you want."
My loyalty and two years of my life were nothing but a sick joke.
The entire hockey team had put money down on when I would willingly spread my legs for his best friend.

"I knew I wanted you right from first glance and I came for you."
"Let go of me!!!" I yelled back but when his fingers connected to my skin, I gasped and a moan escaped my lips.
"Do you not like this, my pet?"
I looked at my captor, hunger shooting to my spine and my thighs in heat. I swallowed hard and I gave a nod. "I like it, Daddy."

Kidnapped by a ruthless Mafia Lord, Nora should be scared of her fate but deep down, this monster isn't really a monster. Is it not her fate that she was made for a ruthless mafia?

They say the dead go where they belong.

But I didn't.

I drift through the cold winds, watching my husband—the detective who once swore to protect me with his life—diligently investigating a dismemberment case.

He doesn't know that the broken body lying in the morgue is his wife.

He doesn't know that the gentle, caring "psychologist" who brings him lunch every day is the one who killed me.

He doesn't know that when I called him in my final moments, begging for help, he hung up on me. I am dead. Yet, that is not the cruelest part— the most harrowing aspect is having to witness the truth gradually emerge, watching as that man collapses completely upon uncovering it all.

She only wanted one night.

He was supposed to be a beautiful stranger she’d never see again.

But fate has other plans.

Three years ago, Emmaline Facer made a bold choice. She slept with the first man who made her heart race — and disappeared the next morning, leaving with stolen money, a stolen car, and leaving behind a man who never stopped looking for her.

Now? She’s back. Working for one of New York’s biggest fashion companies. And her new boss?

Ezra Queen — the man she abandoned.

He hasn’t forgotten her. He hasn’t forgiven her. And what neither of them knows is that their lives are about to get far more complicated.

Now, forced to work together, old sparks ignite, buried secrets rise, and a dangerous game begins — where love battles betrayal, and past mistakes threaten everything.

And a little girl who isn’t who everyone thinks she is.

For five years of marriage, I endured my Alpha King husband's cold neglect because he claimed to suffer from "Bond Deficiency Syndrome," making him incapable of falling in love with his fated mate.

I took a silver bullet for him, yet when danger struck, he abandoned me without hesitation and ran to another woman.

It wasn't until I got pregnant with his Double Alpha heir and went to surprise him that I overheard his cold voice outside the door: "The illness is faked. Once she gives birth to the heir, this marriage can end."

It turned out he understood everything; he just didn't love me.

I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I faked my death during an attack, leaving behind nothing but a blood-soaked wedding ring.

Later, the Alpha King who claimed he couldn't feel love went completely mad.

He abandoned his territory and searched for me for a year and a half.

But when he finally knelt in the blizzard, begging me to come back, my child was resting on another man's shoulder, sweetly babbling the word "Daddy."

The dealership called to inform me that my Rolls-Royce Starlight Headliner had been replaced with a pink one and was ready for pickup.
I was bewildered. I hadn't driven that car in ages—why would anyone change the headliner without my knowledge?
I confronted my husband, who managed our garage, demanding an explanation.
"Honey, maybe they got their wires crossed. I'll swing by the dealership later and sort it out."
I wasn't about to waste my breath. Instead, I called my friend directly—she happened to own the dealership.
"William's having an affair. I'm going to catch him red-handed."

My name is Themis and I am not supposed to be alive.

I survived the hunt, saddled with a husband and still I have to waddle my way through so many things to remain alive at the end of the day.

The one person I can count on other than myself is my new husband who saved my life from the get go.

And my gift of prophecy.

Maybe, just maybe it is also enough to save the Dar Empire too.

My name is Themis and this is my story.

When Riley caught her girlfriend getting married to her proud brother, she felt betrayed, and her family's taunt broke her. In order to hide her hurting soul, Riley picked the man closest to her and declared that he was her fiance. But the man wasn't just any regular guy, he was Alexander Hamilton-Rodriguez. One of the richest CEO in the country.
Alex was having issues with his wife, Quinoa, and thought Riley would be able to help, so he offered her a contract marriage.

Unfortunately, Riley found out that she had just two months to live, at that moment, she wanted something real, and the next closest person to her was Doctor Roland Salad, Quinoa's brother.

A dying Riley needed Roland, and the haunted Alex needed Riley. But Roland wasn't sure of who he wanted, because he was in love with the both of them.

My mafia husband has a childhood sweetheart. Whenever she or her son needed anything, he would eagerly rush to their aid.
This time, when our son Noah suffered from acute retinopathy and desperately needed his signature for surgery, he claimed she was in mortal danger and couldn't leave.
Because he wasn't there to sign the paperwork, Noah ultimately went blind.
Yet later, on his sweetheart's Instagram, I saw that he was just dining with her and her son...

My boyfriend pulled off a drone-sky proposal that lit up the entire city.
Crowds cheered, “Congratulations to Mr. Gunson and Mrs. Gunson—at last, true lovers become family.”
But the woman curled in his arms was his secretary.
The “me” in their mouths had long since turned to white bones beneath a mound of earth.

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.

At the Jones family’s political marriage gala, the New York mafia’s most public “celebration”, I, Isabella Rossi, who was a bargaining chip, had been Donovan Jones’s wife for five years.
He was the world’s top perfumer, the kind of man who could coax a scent from his fingertips that made people go mad-and yet, to him, I was a flower with no fragrance at all.
Five years of this marriage, and he had never touched me. The villa’s master bedroom was always his alone, while I was nothing but the “Mrs. Jones” in name-a decorative prop trapped in a luxury cage, so insignificant that even the servants dared to look down on me in secret.
When both sets of parents pressured us for a baby, he wrapped an arm around a famous model and sneered,
“A woman raised off a template like you is only good for taking care of a kid, not for sleeping with.”
He left me behind in the bridal suite-with his younger brother.
Then he took his new fling out street-racing.
That same night, a video of him and the model hooking up in a car shot straight to the top of the entertainment headlines.
And I became New York media’s favorite punchline: the “DISCARDED TROPHY WIFE.”
Just when everyone thought I’d spend the night alone, guarding an empty bed,
I crooked a finger at that eight-pack, absurdly good-looking brother-in-law of mine.
Donovan, you’re right-I am pretty suited to “taking care of a kid.”
Just not a baby. A 6'2", baby-faced college boy.

I spent ten years turning a thug into a top boxer, but he and my wife kicked me out of the game, mocking me for "not understanding business and being outdated."

I didn't argue, and turned around to pick up a homeless man who had fought in underground boxing matches on the roadside.

A year later, the homeless man's apprentice knocked out the defending champion with one punch and won the gold belt; while that ingrate who betrayed me was beaten into a cripple in the underground boxing ring.

The geniuses you all think they are are nothing more than half-finished products under my tutelage!

Juggling her career and family, Thea fought to keep her marriage alive after her husband lost his job. She hired a nanny to help—never guessing she was welcoming her own replacement.
"The three of us look more like a family than with you, mommy."
That was the final nail.
She walked away. No custody battle. No tearful goodbyes. Just silence. And from that silence, she rose—stronger, sharper, and impossible to break.
Enter Ezra Harrington.
Billionaire. CEO. Her boss.
Cold-blooded in more ways than one.
He wants Thea—but not just in the boardroom. He's hungry for more.
Her blood sings to him.
Her strength tempts him.
Her fire threatens to consume him.
But Thea doesn't kneel.
Not for love. Not for monsters.
Not even for the devil in a custom Armani suit.
Now her past is clawing back—
A husband begging for a second chance. A child she ne er stopped loving. And a vampire boss who'd destroy the world to keep her.
T.W: Dub-con, vampirism/alpha dominance, workplace relationship, dark romance etc.

"I don't have enough money or power right now, but I will definitely find a way to bring them all to their knees! I'll make them all beg!" She hissed, shaking with anger and frustration. "I will do everything, anything… to make them all regret… even if I have to sell my soul to the devil!" She said with determination flashing in her beautiful eyes.

The man smirked. He lifted his fingers and tucked some errant strands of her slightly mussed up hair behind her ear. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss. A certain devil here might really fulfil your wish and claim your soul in exchange."

"If that devil is really here, do introduce him to me, handsome. I would like to make a deal with him." Eva drawled out, smirking back at him.

On the first day of college, most freshmen worry about making new friends. I had to figure out how to pay my own parents for a plate of lunch.
With every penny of my tuition and living expenses strictly controlled by them, I stood empty-handed in front of their campus Gospel food truck. But my mother didn't want cash.
She wanted a public spectacle to cure my "sinful depression."
My younger sister bought her lunch with a simple kiss on the cheek. But for me?
My mother pointed to the growing crowd of students and delivered her ultimatum: sing the toddler nursery rhyme 'My Mommy Is the Best' at the top of my lungs, or starve.
I chose to put the food down and walk away.
But my mother rushed out of the truck. Her fingernails dug violently into my wrist, dragging me back into her nightmare. "You're not leaving until you sing."

I was reborn on the day my baby was murdered, and the first thing I did was send my son away from the Hale estate. When I returned to the party, a black stroller was floating in the pool. Everyone thought the dead child was mine. They told me I could have another baby while they protected the ten-year-old girl who had pushed the stroller in. Then my father arrived with my living son in his arms, and the child dragged from the trash compactor turned out to be the killer’s own baby brother.

My parents and twin sister faked their own deaths so she could steal my college acceptance.

I believed it. Sobbed until I couldn't breathe when the cops showed me photos of the burnt yacht. Thought my words—"I hope you all die"—had somehow made it happen.

Two weeks later, I found my sister's backup Instagram: "Finally ditched the boring sister! Bahamas is paradise 🏖"

Something inside me snapped.

Wanna play dead? Stay dead.

I took their death certificates. Canceled their social security numbers. Drained every joint account—every last cent. Sold the house to John, the kind of guy even cops don't mess with.

One month later, they came home tanned and loaded with designer bags, expecting to find me broken on the streets.

What greeted them instead were cold gun barrels pointed at their heads.

I was marrying Boone Ashcroft on a Saturday morning. Before I could step out of the truck, his mother walked up with a rope and pointed at the cattle chute behind the barn.
Her terms: hands and knees through six inches of mud and manure. A metal headgate clamped around my neck at the end. That was the price of walking through her front door.
I said no.
Then forty Ashcrofts surrounded the truck. My phone had zero signal. My family was blocked behind a hay baler a quarter mile back. And the man I'd spent three years with looked me in the eye and said: "You're going through that chute today. Crawling or walking — pick one."
They cornered my best friend. Threw hog blood on the windshield. Thought nobody was coming for me.
They didn't know about the CB radio under the console — or the ten cousins listening on the other end.

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

"I swore I'd never fall for the man my parents chose for me.
But one night, one kiss, and I gave in to Damian Richardson—the CEO who once said I wasn't his type."
Valerie Smith never wanted a marriage of convenience, especially not with a man as cold and arrogant as Damian. Forced into a contract to protect their families' business empires, she braces herself for four miserable weeks until the wedding.
But things change the night she lets her guard down—and lets Damian in.
Just as they begin to warm up to each other, Damian's glamorous ex reappears with a shocking claim, and Valerie is blindsided by betrayal from someone she trusts most. With the marriage called off and her heart in pieces, Valerie walks away.
Now, Damian must fight not just for the merger—but for the woman he never meant to fall for.

On my eighteenth birthday, I didn't get a cake. I got a slap from my mother and my MIT acceptance letter crushed under her heel.

In their eyes, I wasn't a daughter—I was a walking blood bank, a spare part for my cousin Jennifer.

They took my blood, made me take the blame, even sent me to prison in her place.

In that car accident, my mother saved my cousin without hesitation and left me to bleed out in the wreckage.

"Save Jennifer first! That wretch is too stubborn to die!"

That's when I gave up on them.

But what truly broke me wasn't being sent to a mental hospital—it was the diary I found hidden in my mother's safe.

Six days after Alexander lost all contact, I navigated my way alone to the Nightfall Gala to find him.

The guard's expression twisted into something peculiar when he heard my purpose.

"You're saying you are looking for your mate, Prince Alexander? And what is your name?"

"I am Cecilia."

The guard let out a harsh, mocking snort. "Stop causing a scene! A blind beggar trying to pull a scam? Don't think you can just impersonate her just because you know the name of the Prince's mate."

"Everyone knows the Prince just gifted Cecilia the millennia-old Abyssal Night Crystal to celebrate her pregnancy! What the hell are you?"

Just then, the giant LED screen cut to the Gala's live broadcast.

"Allow me to formally introduce my partner, Cecilia. Furthermore, she is expecting. Our family is about to welcome a new heir." It was Alexander's voice.

"Thank you all. This is the greatest gift Alexander and I could ever receive."

The moment that sweet, timid voice echoed through the hall, a string violently snapped in my brain. A sharp ringing pierced my eardrums.

—It was the voice of my twin sister, Elena.

Five years ago, a single night ruined everything.

Amelia Hart agreed to a marriage contract she never wanted, forced to become the secret wife of cold, ruthless billionaire CEO Adrian Knight. The marriage was meant to protect her family, nothing more. No one was allowed to know her name, her face, or her connection to him. She was hidden, silenced, and eventually sent away with a signed divorce she never asked for.

Adrian thought he had buried that part of his life. He built his empire bigger, harder, and colder, convincing himself that the woman he married meant nothing.

Until she returns.

This time not as his contract bride, but as the brilliant new strategist hired into his company—walking into his boardroom with confidence, beauty, and a calm strength that shakes him to the core. Adrian recognizes her instantly. Amelia pretends she does not know him at all.

But secrets don’t stay buried forever.

Rumors spread. Old emotions rise. And Adrian discovers the truth he never expected: the night he sent her away, she didn’t leave alone.

She left pregnant.

Now Amelia will protect her child at any cost. Adrian will fight for the family he never knew he had. And both of them must face the bond they tried so hard to destroy.

They told Hilda Kane to share her mate and be grateful.

Her Alpha husband bedded her brother in the sacred Moon Temple. Her father slapped her for refusing to comply. Her brother shoved her off a cliff. Her pack sent wolves to finish the job.

She should be dead. Instead, she woke up in the territory of the most powerful Alpha on the continent—with no memory, no wolf, and a stranger's voice telling her she was his mate.

Cedric Walters has his own reasons for claiming her. He's fought off years of political matchmaking, and a "found mate" solves every problem. But the broken woman in his hospital bed is more than a convenient alibi. His wolf knows it. His blood knows it.

What neither of them knows is that Hilda's wolf isn't gone—she's evolving. And when the amnesia lifts, the Luna who was once too gentle to fight back will return to Northwind.

Not as a victim. As a reckoning.

David is a boy not like any other, born in a world where they're people who possess remarkable and unbelievable abilities. These people are called dragon warriors and are said to be part man part dragon. They may look human on the surface but they as so much more.

David is one of these dragon warriors, a wind dragon warrior to be precise, at least that's what he believes he is. You see he can't recall his past, doesn't know who he is or where he came from. He lived in a small village with Abari, the closest person he had to a mother. He lived with Abari for as long as he could remember but David always yearned to see the world that lay out the village, driven by a burning desire to know more about the world he lived in and himself.

And when the opportunity came knocking for David to explore the world beyond the small village he lived in, he took it but is he ready to face the true reality of who he is and the role he's meant to play in the world he was born in?

When evil lurks just beyond the sight of what he can see, will he be ready to face it as well as the truth of who he really is?

Read to find out

Oh and I'm planning on publishing this story on Royal Road too

You can check out the story on Royal Road here: https://www.royalroad.com/profile/475791/fictions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hesitated, then leaned in.

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

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

Since marrying into the Sterling family, I've been pregnant three times. Not one of them survived.

Every time the DNA test report arrived, my mother-in-law would drag me to the clinic for an abortion.

They said the fetus had genetic defects. But I secretly went to an outside hospital for tests, and the report clearly stated everything was normal.

After my third miscarriage, I followed my in-laws to the basement I was forbidden to enter.

I held my breath and pressed my eye to the crack in the door.

In that moment, I finally knew why they had to kill my babies.

The car crash six months ago destroyed my body. I survive the agony only through the painkillers prescribed by my brother, Fletcher.
While shopping for my wedding dress, I simply swallowed a pill on schedule. My mother responded with a slap that made me spit blood. My father stormed in and kicked my ribs in without asking a single question.
I fled crying to my brother, only for him to grab me in disgust: "You are a disgrace to this family."
I called my fiancé. He rushed to the scene, took one look at the pill, and called the cops without hesitation: "The engagement is off. She makes me sick."
In just a few hours, I went from a bride-to-be to a death row inmate.
But as the gavel fell, I saw our family maid calmly swallow the exact same pill from the gallery…
I lunged at the railing, screaming at the judge. He leaned down, a chilling smile spreading across his face: "Linnea, this is all because…"

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

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

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

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

Dead silence.

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

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

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

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

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