1927 Book(s) Related to catch me if you can based on true story

A Hollywood producer pays stunt performer Mara Keene half a million dollars to move in with her movie-star son. She'll get another half million if she can keep Theo Mercer away from the actress who's been taking advantage of him.

Theo opens the door, learns what his mother has done, and tells Mara to get out. Mara is ready to return the money—until his mother offers the second payment. She turns back with her suitcase. Theo can hate the arrangement all he wants; Mara isn't leaving. But sharing a house with a man who refuses to be managed may prove harder than taking the job.

I lost my memory.
When I woke up, my biological parents and aloof wife were fussing over the fake young master's bedside.
I, the real young master who had just awakened from a coma, only received my wife's cold command: "Sebastian needs a blood transfusion. Go donate."
Looking at the scars on my wrists from her suicide attempt, my amnesiac mind only felt absurdity.
I calmly donated blood, then turned and signed the divorce papers, leaving with nothing, and unilaterally published a notice severing all ties with my family.
Later, the fake young master's conspiracy was exposed. My arrogant female CEO wife destroyed her entire family, flew halfway around the world overnight, and knelt at the airport, tears streaming down her face, begging me to come home.
I, however, took the hand of a haired female professor and looked at her coldly: " Sorry, I already have a partner ."

On the eve of the wedding, Dante sold me to Alex, a deranged auto mechanic, for two dollars.
His friend confused.
“You’re going to marry Chole, that adult film actress. Just send Lucia away. You two were betrothed as children, and she’s lived with the Costellos for ten years. You must care about her at least a little.”
“That mechanic’s violent and ugly. She’ll suffer terribly if she marries him.”
Dante smirked.
“It’s just a small punishment. Chole comes from the bottom and is riddled with insecurities; all she wants is the title of wife. But Lucia refused to be my mistress, and worse, she made Chole cry.”
“Mark my words. Before half a day passes, she’ll throw a fit, threaten to take her own life, and beg me to let her stay by my side.”
His friend shook his head.
“Aren’t you scared she’ll go through with the marriage out of spite?”
Dante sipped his tea unhurriedly.
“No need to worry. She’s believed since childhood that she’d be my wife. Even if she’s furious for a moment, she’d never give herself to another man. I’ll rescue her after I marry Chole the day after tomorrow, then take her on as my mistress. She’ll only grow more devoted to me afterward.”
I clutched the two dollars tight and turned away without a word.

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

In the Hall of Divine Selection, my younger sister stepped on me and declared that she was the only one worthy of becoming the Dragon Queen. Then she threw Kaelorn at me—a broken, half-blind dragon she had tortured until even his tail was severed—like he was nothing more than a worthless mate for a worthless bride.
In my last life, I was stripped to the bone and imprisoned by the Dragon God, while she lived free and untouched.
But this time, the moment she raised her hand to slap me, I had already made up my mind—
In this life, I'll be the one to drag her into hell.

I bled to death on a cold hospital bed, my unborn child gone, all because I took a shift for my coworker.
Heaven granted me a second chance. I opened my eyes, sitting safely at my office desk. Before I could shake off the nightmare, Vanessa clicked her heels toward me.
"Claire, can you cover for me at the investor party tonight? It’s my anniversary with my boyfriend."
In my past life, I agreed, only to be locked in a private room by monsters and tortured to death. This time, I looked her in the eye. "No."
Vanessa was stunned. Because of my refusal, she missed the crucial meeting and was mercilessly fired by the director.
I thought I had escaped hell and saved her life too. But when I got home to my loving husband, I realized the true nightmare had just begun...

In my past life, we were camping in the wilderness area of a state park when my best friend handed out "lucky charms" to the whole group. Charms she'd secretly packed full of wildlife attractant.

A wild boar knocked me to the ground outside the cabin door. Its tusks tore into my stomach. I pounded on the wood with both fists, screaming. "Help! Open the door!"

Inside were my boyfriend of two years and the best friend I'd been quietly supporting for just as long. Autumn Warren.

"I'm so sorry, Brynn." Autumn's voice broke into sobs, but her weight stayed pressed hard against the door. "There are boars everywhere. We open that door, we're all dead."

"Just hold on! I'm calling 911!" Wyatt Fletcher's voice rang out with the kind of conviction that cost him absolutely nothing.

I paid for that trip. I'd fallen behind because I'd stopped to pull Autumn along.

And they stood on the other side of that door, my blood soaking into the dirt, and locked me out.

I open my eyes. I'm back. It's the day we left.

"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.

Alexandra Moretti has not taken a single step down the aisle when the cathedral doors open behind her.
A nurse comes in with a newborn and a birth record. The mother is in surgery. The father, she says, is the groom.
Vincent DeLuca does not deny it. Neither does his family. They offer ten minutes in the priest's office and a simple arrangement: the boy will be provided for quietly, and Alexandra will still be Mrs. DeLuca.
They have misjudged her.
This was never a wedding. It was a merger, and Alexandra is the only person in the room who read every clause. She sets the ring on a pew, orders her security chief to recover the signed papers, and walks out of St. Patrick's before the ink is dry.
Her father does not stop her.
By tonight, the DeLucas will find out how much of their empire was only ever borrowed.

As I sat in the police station with Yvonne Harper, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, waiting for bail arrangements to be made, the decision loomed.
One of us could go home tonight.
My mate, Alpha Jackson, chose to take her.
"Nicole, just wait for me one more night. I’ll come back for you tomorrow," he said.
He was worried about her fragile health, but he didn’t care about my fear of the dark.
Later, I called him. My voice was steady, though my heart ached.
"Jackson," I began, "for the past few years, I’ve been waiting for you."
"But I won’t wait forever."

Betrayed to death by my own brother, I was reborn before the apocalypse descended.
He rushed to seize the god-tier [Copy] talent first, leaving the trash [Purification] talent for me.
He thought that with this talent, he'd have no worries and reign supreme in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, I quietly closed the last door of my fortress.
He didn't know that his prized copying ability had a fatal flaw.

With one week left until the wedding, Henry Jones asked me to reschedule the date—for one simple reason:
“On our wedding day, I’m taking Ann to the hospital for her prenatal checkup.”
Ann is the widow of his brother Ethan. She’s also my half-sister. In that private room, they laughed at me for being “almost thirty and desperate to get married.”
Ann put on an innocent face. “If Rory is really in such a rush… I can reschedule my appointment.”
I wanted to break up, and Henry frowned as he lectured me:
“As her future sister-in-law, why do you have to fight her over this one day?”
I asked him, “Do you even remember what Friday is?”
He coaxed me softly: “One day earlier or later—what’s the difference?” I nodded and said “Fine,” thinking I could still swallow it.
Until I pressed my fingerprint to enter his office and overheard Ann questioning him about inheritance, and Henry answered under his breath, “It won’t come to that—I won’t let Rory get pregnant with my child.”

He never planned to touch her, let alone crave her.

When ruthless billionaire Roman Thorne is forced into a strategic marriage, he chooses Elena Sinclair, quiet, obedient, and easily controlled.

Or so he thought.

Behind her innocent eyes is a sharp tongue, a hidden past, secrets, and curves that haunt his nights. Elena has no intention of being anyone’s trophy wife. She plays by her own rules, and Roman’s cold detachment only fuels her fire.

Now Roman wants more than her name on his paperwork. He wants her moaning his name in the dark. He wants her loyalty. Her heart. Her everything.

Too bad Elena didn’t come to be owned.

They said we were perfect for each other.
I believed them until I clicked on a video that shattered everything.
My husband and his adopted sister was sleeping on our bed.
Eight years later.
My ex came to me.
He wants to prove he's changed.
I don't need his redemption.
The manuscript between us reveals the truth he tried to bury.
Every lie, every cancellation, and every moment I diminished myself for a man who cheated me.
Now, he must edit the story of how he destroyed me.
I'm going to make him read every word.
This isn't about forgiveness.
It's not about second chances.
It's about a woman who learned that the best revenge isn't making someone regret losing you. It's building a life so full that their absence becomes irrelevant.
“Ex, Know Your Place.”
“My Life Has Long Been Unrelated to You.”

"Three years, and you still haven't taken a mate. You're obviously waiting for me to come back."
Three years ago, my delusional ex-Alpha threw me out of the pack like garbage—all for some so-called "prime Omega." Overnight I became a rogue, with nothing and no one.
Now he actually thought I'd spent all that time pining for him?
He'd never know I hadn't taken another Alpha because I was already bonded to the Lycan King himself—with pups already tearing across the estate on their chubby little legs.
I figured I'd never have to smell this expired trash again.
But today, he decided to show up and beg for death.
Fine by me. I'd grind that pathetic Alpha ego of his into dust myself.

When my mafia husband moved his brother's widow and son into our home, I didn't shed a tear or throw a fit. Instead, I quietly packed our bags.

"It's hard for Alessia to raise a boy alone," I told him, not meeting his eyes. "My daughter and I will move out so you can take better care of them."

Later, on my daughter's birthday, my husband gifted her a vintage model car. The widow's son threw a massive tantrum for it.

Without a fuss, my little girl calmly handed it over.

"Papa said since you don't have a father anymore, he is your father now," she said softly. "I'm older. You can have it."

My husband was deeply pleased with our generosity. Yet, over time, he realized something was wrong.

I no longer looked at him with love. His daughter no longer reached for his hand.

He didn't know the truth. In my past life, his twisted devotion to that mother and son had literally killed us.

He threw us out into a blizzard, hoarding all the family's medical supplies and rations for them. He left us to freeze and starve to death in the snow.

Reborn, we won't fight them for him anymore.

Because we will never need Dante Moretti again.

The first time they met, Jace looked her in the eye and said, "I don't sleep with virgins. Too much trouble. No satisfaction."
The second time, desire betrayed his rules. "Walk away, Nerissa. Or I'll stop pretending I can resist you."
The 99th time, everything changed. "I don't want to be your lover anymore. I want to be your husband."

To save her father's life, Nerissa offered the only thing she had left — her first night. The buyer? Dr. Jace Whitmore. Cold, powerful, and dangerously untouchable.

For Nerissa, it was supposed to end when the debt was paid.
For Jace, it was just lust. He thought once he tired of Nerissa's body, letting her go would be easy.
But neither of them expected to fall — hard.

As desire deepens into something dangerously close to love, their fragile bond is tested by ruthless enemies, haunting secrets, and the brutal reality of their worlds: hers, humble and struggling; his, ruthless and elite.

Can a relationship born of desperation and desire survive the storm — and turn into something real?

When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT‼️
This story contains themes of BDSM, including elements of dominance and submission, bondage, name-calling kinks (such as terms like "whore"), consensual rough play, and some scenes that involve violence. If these topics could be triggering or uncomfortable for you, I strongly recommend proceeding with caution or choosing a different story.

But if you're into all this delicious chaos—welcome, and get ready for the ride of your life. Things are about to get wild. Enjoy! 😉

Why was I thinking about his lips? Was I really that starved for attention?

I couldn't tear my eyes away. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the sheer need for something to distract me. But it wasn't just his lips. His jaw was sharp, the muscles of his neck visible beneath the fabric of his shirt. He looked like someone who could make me forget everything.

His voice broke through my thoughts. "Something wrong?"
I blinked, shaking my head, forcing my eyes to pull away from him. "No. Nothing."

I felt his gaze still on me, making me feel like he could see right through all the bullshit I was trying to wear. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the heartbreak, or the way he looked at me, but suddenly it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like something I needed.

Without thinking, I stood, my body moving before my mind could catch up. My heart raced as I stepped closer to him, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He was surprised, but I didn't care.
I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to me, and pressed my lips to his.

For nineteen years, Avery Hale has been invisible—just a worthless, oversized, wolfless girl surviving on a scholarship at Ravenhood Academy. Tossed away by her own parents and raised by her struggling aunt, she learned early on that love wasn't meant for someone like her.

Until the Red Moon Ceremony changes everything.

Fate plays the ultimate cruel trick, pairing her with Lucas Ravengod: the cold-hearted Lycan prince, hockey captain, and the secret crush she’s loved from afar. But her dream turns into a nightmare when Lucas rejects her in front of the entire pack.

Unable to sever a bond on a red moon night, she is forced to stay tethered to the cold hearted beast who broke her heart until the next full moon, Avery must survive relentless bullying, toxic rivalries, and dangerous pack politics.

But as the full moon approaches, Lucas’s cold exterior begins to crack—and he realizes the girl he pushed away might be the only temptation he can’t resist.

For seven years, Rose Rollins hid her noble Silver Wolf bloodline in Blackstone City.
She saved Zack Morrigan from ruin and helped Shawn Haynes rise from disgrace. They once swore they would protect her forever—until an innocent-looking Omega, Sally, stole their attention, their trust, and finally their hearts.
Framed, humiliated, and nearly killed by the men she once loved, Rose finally stops waiting for their loyalty. She returns to Golden Oak City and accepts the arranged bond she once fled: a union with Asher Thorne, the powerful Alpha of the Golden Pack.
But Rose's return exposes more than old wounds. Sally’s lies begin to unravel. Zack and Shawn discover the woman they betrayed was never powerless. And Asher, cold and dangerous, may be the only wolf who truly respects her.
As enemies close in and regrets arrive too late, Rose must choose between revenge, forgiveness, and a future where she never looks back.

In my past life, I built an ironclad sanctuary in the zombie-infested wasteland, bleeding to keep four thousand people alive.
Yet the very people I risked everything to protect were brainwashed into overthrowing me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right on the eve of that fatal rebellion.
Right now in the control room, my enemy has his arm around my wife. Fourteen rebels have their assault rifles pressed against my skull, laughing mockingly, convinced they've completely crushed this washed-up "Doomsday Tyrant."
What they don't know is that two days ago, I already emptied the bunker's entire stockpile of weapons and food.
You want "freedom" without rules? It's all yours.

I barely spoke a word before I turned six. Behind our backs, he townsfolk whispered that some foul thing had sealed my tongue.
The first time I truly spoke, I was pointing at our neighbor, Emily.
She was flying a kite just outside our fence. Floating right above her head was a stark, blood-red number.
"Three."
My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, asking if I had just spoken.
I nodded and pointed at Emily again.
By the time they looked, the girl had already run off.
Three days later, Emily was struck and killed by a turning delivery truck at the corner of our street.
After the funeral, my parents held me tight and swore it was just a coincidence.
The second time was when my grandmother, Eleanor Hart, was hospitalized for a stroke.
Dr. Grant took off his glasses, his tone brutally calm. "She is in terrible shape. The family needs to prepare for the worst."
I stood at the end of the hallway. Above my grandmother's head, the number flickered like a slow-burning fire.
"Two hundred and forty."
Claire clamped her hand over my mouth.
Daniel went pale. He knelt down, his voice a harsh hiss. "Sophie, shut up! You cannot say things like that out loud."
Grandmother did not die that night.
After being brought home, she miraculously began to recover. She even spent her afternoons listening to the radio in the sun.
Until the two-hundred-and-fortieth day. She passed away in her sleep.
That was when my family finally understood exactly what my numbers meant.

My boyfriend of five years was actually Gideon Pryce, Vale City's wealthiest heir—and our entire relationship was just a gold-digger test.
Then he handed me the receipts. Every dollar he’d spent on me in five years. He wanted it back.
He didn’t know about the ultrasound in my purse. Eleven weeks. A rare complication. One surgery that afternoon was my baby’s only chance, and I’d scraped together every cent of the $120,000 it cost.
He drained my account and bought his childhood best friend a Birkin.
I lost the baby. He said I was being dramatic.
Fine. He wants to talk money? Let’s talk money.
He spent five years hunting for a gold digger. By the time I’m done, he’ll find one—staring back at him in the mirror.

To get the only targeted drug for my sister's sudden rare disease flare-up, I knelt before the city's elites in a grease-stained janitor's uniform and barked like a dog. My wife in name only glared at me with absolute disgust, cursing that I was worse than a dog. The chaebol heir even crushed the medicine bottle under his shoe, forcing me into a "no fighting back" death match in the underground black market.

Enduring the agony of broken bones, I survived ten brutal rounds, only to be handed swapped poison and witness a monstrous fire engulf the clinic.

Watching my sister's life-support indicators gradually fade in the sea of flames, and looking at the female doctor whose legs were shattered while trying to protect her, I shed no tears.

I calmly pulled a glass shard from my ribs and took out the black satellite communicator I had kept hidden and sealed away for three years.

"Command received, Supreme Commander."

Tonight, I will make the chaebols of this city completely vanish from the face of the earth.

Four years. Ninety-nine times on the altar, and the Alpha I was going to mate held the door for every one of them.
I heal from anything. That is the only reason they picked me.
The Moon Goddess promised that the hundredth offering would buy back the night somebody stole from me. The night Cassian knows it was me who dug him out of that mine, and looks at me the way he used to.
Not this one. In this one I am what his priestess practises on.
So I never refused. Not once, not through any of the fevers.
Tonight is the hundredth. The drug hasn't taken, and the two of them are talking on the other side of the door.
"It'll hold. We built that voice out of her own memories."
"The heart tonight, not an eye. When she wakes, don't let anything slip."
There is no Moon Goddess. There never was.
And he doesn't know my healing was never mine. Something else lives in my chest, and it stays there because my heart does.
Take it out and I don't wake up.

Beau and I have been together for three years. I paid for the entire yacht charter out of my own pocket, and he shows up with his childhood best friend Sadie in tow, then goes around telling everyone it was his idea, his grand gesture.

Out on the water, Sadie spots a small octopus drifting near the surface and decides she has to have it. The thing pulses with glowing blue rings.

I'm a certified expert diver. I know exactly what it is the second I see it. I try to stop her.

She bursts into tears and tells Beau I'm going after her.

So Beau, ever the hero where Sadie's concerned, jumps in himself and fishes the thing out.

Sadie plays with it. It bites her. She's on the deck before she even knows what hit her.

Beau grabs me, screaming at me to suck out the venom. I refuse. He calls me a cold, heartless bitch, and in the chaos, shoves me overboard into shark-infested water.

I die out there. Nothing left of me.

They use my phone to fake a suicide note. Depression, they say. Jumped on her own. Then they take my company, my assets, everything.

They post online hinting I tried to push Sadie in and slipped.

My parents, worn down by the online harassment and the grief of losing me, both die of heart attacks.

Then I open my eyes. And I'm back. The morning of the trip.

My husband, Caspian, faked his company’s bankruptcy. We had to sell our luxury cars and our mansion, squeezing into a leaky, moldy basement.
By day, I worked back-to-back shifts in the ER saving lives. By night, I slipped into revealing dresses to sling drinks at a bar, all to shoulder a massive debt that never even existed.
Until I bumped into him in a VIP room. The man who was supposedly drowning in stress was lounging on a sofa with his suit unbuttoned, swirling a glass of whiskey, a secretary in his arms. His mistress leaned in and smirked, telling me Caspian had found me boring for a long time.
She also bragged that while he claimed to be working until 3 AM, he was actually going back to our old house at 10 PM, sleeping in our master bedroom.
Caspian showed zero remorse. Instead, he demanded I roll over and accept the woman, tossing me a meager payoff and threatening to ruin my medical career.
I threw away my wedding ring. I swallowed my tears. I finally saw it all for what it was.
From today on, I am only doing one thing: taking back what belongs to me, piece by piece.

The ninety-ninth time I slept with Alexander, he dragged me back into his arms and said he was going to take me “home.”
I thought he finally wanted to acknowledge me. Turned out he just wanted me to go with him to meet his future Luna.
Later, when the car crash happened, the one he threw himself over to protect was someone else. At the hospital, he carefully held and fed the soup to someone else. On the night of the engagement party, he interlaced his fingers with hers under the lights and publicly announced their wedding.
I stood in the corner and watched him kiss another Omega.
That was the moment I finally understood—twenty years of devotion still couldn’t compare to a single soft “I’m scared” from her.
So, I turned around and walked away. Deleted his contact, blocked his number, disappeared from his world.
I thought he wouldn’t care.
I never expected that ten minutes before his wedding ceremony began, he was standing backstage, calling my number like a madman.

News broke that a classmate had fallen from a building. The forensic assessment said it was homicide. Someone claimed they’d seen the killer: a young girl in a red coat.
The police came to our home. My stepsister shoved me forward. Mom said, “My daughter owns a red coat and she wasn’t at home yesterday.”

I never expected to be branded a “fake heiress” and a “scheming bitch” on my own wedding anniversary.
“Did you really think we’d never find out you faked the DNA test?” My mother’s voice cut like a blade. “You’ve been impersonating our real daughter all along.”
The irony was suffocating. They were the ones who stormed into my peaceful life, insisting that I was their long-lost child—no proof needed. And now they dared to call me the fraud.
“Since Camille has finally returned to where she belongs,” my father declared coldly, “it’s time for you to crawl back into whatever shadow you came from.”
Then came the final blow. My husband of five years didn’t even hesitate.
“I’ll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately. Don’t make this difficult, Mirena. You were never meant to be my wife.”
Overnight, I was discarded. The scandal of the city. The woman who stole a life that was never hers.
But they forgot one thing: I never needed them.
Before I was George Ashton’s wife, I was Mirena Sterling—the Investment Queen. The woman who broke Wall Street records before she turned twenty-five. A racing champion. A tech prodigy.
I walked away from all of it. Gave up my empire. My crown. My name. All for a man who threw me away like garbage the moment someone “better” came along.
Big mistake.
On the night they cast me out, soaking wet and humiliated, I ran into the last person I ever wanted to see.
“Look at you now, Mirena,” Alexander Pierce murmured, watching me with those piercing eyes. “The woman who once ruled the financial world. Reduced to this.” He tilted his head. “And for what? Love?” A dark laugh. “Pathetic.”
My former rival. The man who spent years trying to beat me—and never once succeeded. Now he stood before me, a Wall Street titan, watching my downfall with hungry satisfaction.
He thought he’d seen the last of me.
He was wrong.
The game was simple now: drop the dead weight, reclaim what’s mine, and remind everyone why they feared my name.
Within months, I was back. Every market moved when I breathed. Every headline screamed my return. The Sterlings came crawling, begging for mercy they’d never shown me. And George? He watched in horror as I bought his most prized company without blinking.
The divorce he’d so eagerly signed? His greatest regret.
“Mirena, please,” he begged, groveling at my feet. “Give me another chance.”
I didn’t even look at him. “Sorry, darling. I don’t recycle trash.”
But what I didn’t expect was him.
Alexander Pierce dropped to one knee in front of me—the man who had once mocked my fall, now looking up with something raw and undisguised in his crimson gaze.
“I knew you’d take back everything they stole,” he said, voice low. “Now…” A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Take me too.”

Haley Reed thought she had the perfect life—a devoted husband, a sweet son, and a home filled with love. But when her husband’s ex-lover, Joye, slithers back into their lives, determined to steal everything Haley holds dear, her world shatters.
The ultimate betrayal? Her own son turning against her, demanding she leave, and claiming that he wanted Joey instead of her to be his mother!
Cast out with nothing—no money, no safety net—Haley collapses on the streets, broken… until crosses paths with Logan Hartwell, a powerful Billionaire with a guarded heart, and his fragile, enchanting daughter, Lily, who clings to Haley with a desperate hope: "Will you be my mommy?"
However, as Haley rebuilds her life, chilling connections emerge—between Logan’s mysterious past and Joey, the woman who destroyed her marriage. "Did you choose me to hurt her?" she demands, but Logan couldn't give her a satisfactory answer.
Realizing her world was surrounded with lies, Haley transforms into the powerful woman she was meant to be—wealth, influence, and hard-won independence at her fingertips—her past comes begging. Her ex-husband. Her lost son. The life that failed her.
Will she return to the love that broke her… or claim the family that truly sees her worth?

WARNING: Adult content included OVER 18+
She arched herself against the pleasure of his mouth, and gave out a soft moan, raked her hot nipples with his teeth and dragged it up a bit then gently rubbed his tongue on it before proceeding to suckle on it again.

Slowly he went in again with a finger into the lace tong and thrust slowly into her hot, creamy and clenching channel, and she was still very much tight,making him wonder how many men she’s been with.


Dumped and disgraced on their anniversary day infront of her colleagues by her boyfriend Luke.
Her first love and a man who she had sacrificed all her life for including 7 abortions!

Valerie Jumbo was left with no choice but to be the chief bridesmaid at her own wedding in just a few weeks!
Her replacement was her own best friend!

To get away from the heartbreak and betrayal, the only solution was suicide then an unexpected chance came out of the blues,she grabbed it.
Desperate to get over her ex, she had accepted to be a one time date for her controlling, insufferable and egocentric,popular billionaire CEO,Mr Prince Norman!
A sinfully sexy and incredibly irresistible playboy, whom every woman had a crush on, Valerie included.

But Mr Prince wanted more. Something Valerie swore never to give to any man again, and that which he also swore to his Alpha self never to ask of a woman.
A chance to love.

For five years of marriage, Sibel devoted herself completely to her husband and son, even giving up her own career for their family.
Then she was rushed to the hospital with acute cholecystitis, writhing in pain. Her husband arrived with their son, only to walk right past her and rush to the woman he cherished most, his adopted sister.
"She’s terminally ill. You should take care of her," her husband said.
Her son added, "You’re only Mom because you cook and do housework."
In that moment, Sibel realized that her five years of sacrifice had been nothing but a joke.
She filed for divorce, walked away with nothing, and returned to the world of medical research. But just as she was ready to start over, she was framed, thrown into detention, and nearly left to die in a pool of blood.
Everyone thought Sibel was nothing without a man.
But when she returned as a world class medical expert, when the truth was finally exposed, and when the man who once treated her like she was worthless knelt before her with red eyes full of regret...
She looked down at him and said,
"You once said I wasn't good enough for you. Now you're not good enough for me."

I used to believe Lawrence Ashcroft must love me.

He was the football captain, the golden boy everyone adored, and he chose me—the girl who spent her life chasing perfection on the ice. But love shouldn’t feel like waiting outside a rink in the cold, refreshing my phone, wondering why he forgot me again.

Seven times.

Each excuse sounded softer than the last. Florence needed help. Florence was sick. Florence had no one else. And somehow, I was always supposed to understand.

Then I met Gavin Ashcroft.

Lawrence’s older brother was nothing like him. Gavin was cold, blunt, and intimidating. The first night I met him, he criticized me for being late. I thought he hated me. But when Lawrence abandoned me at the Ashcroft mansion, Gavin was the one who worried about my safety. When I got hurt, Gavin noticed. When I competed, Gavin came. When I tried to be strong, Gavin saw the pain I hid.

Now Lawrence says he wants to change. He waits outside my dorm, brings me medicine, asks for another chance.

But the more he reaches for me, the more I realize something terrifying:

My heart no longer races for the boy I once loved.

It races for his brother.

The night before her wedding, Leah Carter caught her fiancé Elias in bed with another woman.

Elias humiliated her, manipulated her, and even plotted to pass her off to another man like an object to be discarded. In her most desperate moment, Matto Moretti came crashing through the door — reeking of blood and violence, the kind of man the entire underworld feared without question. He put a bullet through Elias's shoulder without blinking, then caught Leah's chin between his fingers, his voice low and absolute:

"Your man slept with my woman. That makes you responsible for the debt. Sign the paper and marry me."

Leah's Perspective

I told myself I was nothing more than a canary in his gilded cage — a substitute, a stand-in for someone else's sin.

We had known each other for exactly one month, and none of it made any sense. He detonated into my life like a bomb: money, tenderness, protection — all of it arriving at once, all of it suffocating in its intensity. He behaved like a man completely undone by me, and yet we had barely known each other thirty days.

Was this love at first sight? I didn't think so. There had to be another reason. I didn't know what I was to him, or why he looked at me the way he did — like a man who had loved me for years. And I knew nothing about him. Nothing at all.

Matto's Perspective

She will never know that she has been mine since long before any of this began.

I am not proud of how I came to have her. But that doesn't matter. What matters is this: you have no idea how long I have loved you. It started before all of this — before the gun, before the contract, before she ever knew my name. She will never know the truth of it, and that is fine. She only needs to know that I love her in ways that would frighten her if she ever truly understood.

As long as she stays, I would give her everything. My empire. My fortune. My life, without a moment's hesitation.

The man the world knew as cold-blooded and untouchable had been loving Leah Carter in the dark for years.

He would make Elias pay for what he had done. He would unearth the truth of her buried identity — a secret twenty years in the making. And in every shadow she could not see, he would clear the thorns from her path before she ever felt them, becoming the sharpest blade she never knew she carried.

Matto gave Leah his wealth and his kingdom. More than that, he gave her his heart — fierce, honest, and entirely hers.

"You have been mine since that day, long before you knew it."

"The whole world may fear me. But you — you are only ever allowed to love me."

He did not marry her on impulse.

He married her because he had been planning it for a very long time, and he had never once intended to let her go.

Leah × Matto — You are the captive in my hands, and the only salvation I have ever known.

Three years ago, my fiancée asked me to wait another three years at our own engagement party.
"He's looking out for me. You should understand."
Seeing her leave with her advisor, I married the noble lady who'd always loved me.
Now they all want me back. Too late.

They said a perfect luna should be gentle, obedient, and tolerant of everything.
My husband, Alpha Cedric Blackwood, said that as his luna, I had to be virtuous and generous, and I had to take good care of his "little woloves."
If anyone was led astray, it meant I, as luna, had failed to set a proper example, and I had to be punished in their place.
And so, when his adopted sister, newly graduated from Crescent Moon Academy, ran off to party at a bar and stayed out all night, I was ordered to wash clothes for the entire pack in the bitter winter cold until my hands were covered in frostbite.
When his little lover chased thrills and went alone to the border, drawing rogues to her, I was punished for poor discipline with ninety-nine lashes from a silver whip, beaten so badly that my wolf fell into a deep sleep.
When the two of them grew bored with life, went traveling together, and even stole my unlimited black card, they had barely left before their wild spending drew the attention of an enemy pack and got them kidnapped.
The news that Cedric had spent fifty million to ransom the two women was exposed, turning the Blackwood family into a laughingstock across the werewolf world.
The elders were furious and demanded that the matter be dealt with severely.
Cedric's face darkened. Then he turned around and ordered someone to tie me up.
"You knew they were young, naive, and easy to deceive, yet you deliberately gave them the black card. Weren't you trying to attract the enemy pack's attention so they would get rid of the thorns in your side?"
"A vicious, jealous she-wolf like you deserves to taste what it feels like to be kidnapped and tortured!"
But he did not know that on the first night after I was taken away, I was tortured to death.

When I woke up from the car accident, the calendar had jumped to five years later.
who suddenly appeared out of nowhere , was flirting with her lover on the sofa right in front of me, and then threw her credit card in my face: "Useless thing, from today onwards, go earn your own money."
I glanced at my watch and signed the divorce agreement, agreeing to leave with nothing.
Half an hour later, the director of Patek Philippe arrived at my door carrying a royal rare watch and bowed respectfully: "Young Master Stirling, the family welcomes you back."
She froze. I put on my watch and walked out the door without looking back.
Later she realized that when I left with nothing, it wasn't because I had nothing at all, but because I didn't care about what she had.

On my birthday, my fiancé pushed me off a yacht to make another woman laugh.
Miles Hart was Boston's most notorious heir. I had loved him for three years. I had said yes when he proposed.
I nearly drowned as a child. And he knew I was terrified of deep water. I had told him I didn't want a birthday party at sea — he talked me into it anyway.
I had trusted him enough to step aboard. Even when I saw Lila Crossamong our friends, I told myself it was just Miles being Miles.
It never once crossed my mind that he would hurt me.
The push came without warning. One moment he was beside me; the next, the deck tilted and the water closed over my head.
I surfaced once, choking, and saw Lila at the rail in her white dress.
She covered her mouth, but I could see her smile. Miles laughed beside her.
"Nora! Come on," he called. "Lila's had her fun. You can stop pretending now."
I tried to tell him I couldn't swim. Water filled my mouth instead. I kicked toward the yacht, but it drifted farther away.
"Miles, I think she's really drowning!" someone shouted.
A life ring hit the water beyond my reach. Then the hull and the faces at the rail disappeared.
I remember hands hauling me over the rail, someone pressing on my chest, seawater in my throat, and then nothing.
I woke in a hospital bed with a pounding headache. The room smelled of disinfectant. Miles hurried to me and took my hand.
"Nora. Thank God. I thought you weren't going to wake up."
I pulled my hand free and stared at him.
"Who are you?"

Over the past three years of dating with my boyfriend, everything was perfect. 
My first time meeting his parents at their Sunday Roast went better than I ever dreamed. His mother smiled warmly, serving me mountains of food, excitedly discussing which city we should settle in after graduation. It felt like they were practically picking out wedding dates.
But that illusion shattered over a single spoonful of apple pie.
The moment I took a single bite of the homemade apple pie, his mother's smile vanished. She slammed her spoon onto the fine china with a deafening CRACK. 
"My son must be cursed to have brought home a woman like you!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at my face.
Totally bewildered, I froze. Did I miss the dinner prayer? Did I use the wrong fork? Desperate, I looked to my boyfriend of three years for help. 
But he didn't defend me. He just looked at me with this strange, cold disgust.
"We're done, Sloane," he said, his voice like ice. "Let's break up."
I completelt froze.

Knowing I had severe claustrophobia, my stepfamily locked me in the basement just to make my stepsister smile.
"Evan, please! I can't breathe!" I pounded on the door until my nails bled.
But instead of saving me, my boyfriend of five years simply scoffed from the other side. "Aurora, drop the act. Daphne just wanted your room."
For fifteen years, I gave them everything, only to be treated like a parasite when the "true daughter" returned. They stole my home, my design, and finally, locked me in a burning attic. When the flames consumed me, would they finally be happy?

For six years, I had worked as a contract killer to pay for my brother's leukemia treatment.
Today, I had finally saved enough money to cover his surgery.
But he casually rejected the operation.
"Actually, I'm not sick. And Mom and Dad aren't dead, either. I planned that car accident six years ago."
My husband, Damian Blackwood, followed his confession with one of his own.
"I never went bankrupt, either. Every time I told you I had to work overtime, I was actually staying at our mansion because I couldn't stand squeezing into that filthy basement apartment with you."
"I originally planned to make you suffer for another three years, but the stench of blood and gunpowder on you has become unbearable."
My hand froze as I was about to swipe my card to pay the medical bills.
My brother snatched the bank card from my hand and tossed it into the trash.
"There's no money left on it. I gave away everything you earned from those assassination contracts to beggars. Money earned by taking lives is cursed. We don't want anything to do with it."
My blood ran cold.
Why were they doing this to me?
It wasn't until I saw my parents standing before me that I completely broke down.
They stood at a distance, their faces twisted with disgust, as though I were something contagious.
"If you promise never to bully Vivian again, you can still be our daughter. Otherwise, we'll cut all ties with you!"
Just as despair consumed me, a familiar mechanical voice sounded inside my head.
[Would you like to abandon this mission and leave this world?]

Every night when my daughter comes home, she looks different.
On the first night, a little of her hair was gone.
On the second night, she was missing one hand.
On the third night, half of her body had vanished.
I jolted awake in a sudden start, thankful it had only been a nightmare.
Right then, my daughter came back home.
A patch of her hair was missing.

I spent five years letting men degrade me at a club, all to save $300,000 for my blind brother Joren's eye surgery.
The day I finally raised the money, I excitedly told him he would be able to see again—only to discover he was never blind to begin with.
My husband’s "bankrupt" company had been thriving all along. My parents, who supposedly died in a plane crash, had been living luxuriously abroad.
My husband even took my "stillborn" daughter and gave her to my adopted sister.
My entire family conned me for five years to "teach me a lesson"—all because my adopted sister claimed I bullied her.
Now, they are forcing me to donate my liver to the woman who stole my life, threatening that I'll never see my biological daughter again if I refuse.
But what they don't know is that I have terminal liver cancer, and I only have two days left to live...

I saved Theron’s life, and in return, he lined up his eight grandsons before me. Whoever I chose would be the next Alpha of the Frostvale Pack. My wolf instantly recognized Rhysand—my fated mate. I chose him without hesitation.
On our wedding night, the moment I touched him, he broke out in hives and gasped for air. The doctor said he was allergic to me. Overnight, I became the city's laughingstock. For three years, I walked on eggshells, terrified to even step near my own husband.
Until he was dosed with a lethal aphrodisiac. If not cured within two hours, he would die. I threw caution to the wind and climbed into his bed. Through an entire night of skin-to-skin contact, there were no hives, no suffocation. His "allergy" had miraculously vanished.
But at dawn, his ex-girlfriend Linnea walked in. Rhysand looked at me like I was garbage. "If Linnea hadn't saved me last night, I'd be dead."
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. But before I could even share the news, a raging fire buried that unspoken hope—along with my unborn child—in the ashes forever.
I finally understood. He was never allergic to me.
He just never loved me.

My husband and I couldn’t get pregnant after we got married, and we really wanted a baby of our own,

We tried IVF, and after three failed rounds I finally got pregnant,

But then my husband and my parents suddenly started pressuring me to get an abortion...

I am Catherine Holloway, CEO of a tech company in Seattle.
It was just an ordinary rainy night. I was driving my Porsche Cayenne toward the airport when a beat-up Ford pickup rear-ended me on the off-ramp.
I never imagined that this seemingly routine accident would drag me into a serial murder case — turning me from a witness into the police's prime suspect.

Dominic once told me he loved me—then leaked my intimate photos to the entire school, all to avenge his dead first love.
Seven years later, he discovered that I had given birth to his son, a child suffering from a failing heart.
He ended his engagement, found our son a donor heart, dragged everyone who had ever hurt me to my feet, and finally proposed as death closed in on him.
I put on the wedding dress and became Mrs. Moretti with a smile.
But he never knew that I had returned to his side for anything but love.

I'm the youngest lead surgeon in our hospital's cardiothoracic department. My fiancé, Adrian Wexford, runs the whole department.

His first love, Bella Hartley, is a mediocre surgeon, but she wants to take over the surgery that should be mine before her promotion review.

In my last life, I fought for it. I told them she didn't have the skill to handle it alone, that it was gambling with a patient's life. I threatened to quit and saved the patient.

But Bella couldn't handle the gossip going around the department. She got depressed and jumped off the hospital roof.

Adrian never said a word about it. He kept treating me the same, picked out wedding rings with me, smiled and told me we'd go on our honeymoon right after the wedding.

I thought he'd let it go.

Then on our wedding day, one glass of wine in, I woke up in a freezing basement, strapped down to an operating table.

He held a scalpel and cut into me, inch by inch, his eyes bloodshot.

"If you hadn't fought so hard for that surgery, Bella wouldn't have jumped. You owe her. Pay with your life."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the afternoon he first suggested giving Bella the surgery.

This time, I didn't argue. I just smiled. "Sure. Let Bella take the lead on this one."

They have no idea that next Tuesday, the Chief of Surgery is bringing the board and a visiting specialist to observe, unannounced.

We'll see how they explain this one.