1662 Book(s) Related to kissed by an angel book

My wife was forced to don a wedding dress to marry my sworn enemy, while my three-year-old daughter was locked in an iron cage suspended above the raging sea.

And I, the dignified Commander-in-Chief of the Blackwater Fleet, was forced to wear a dog collar, kneeling on broken glass and licking up red wine like a crippled stray dog.
All because embedded in their necks were biological bombs, the detonator held in the hands of my enemy.

The elites of the entire island ruthlessly mocked my cowardice, trampling me underfoot in ultimate humiliation.

That was until the climax of the maritime wedding, when my enemy smugly pressed the detonator, only for the collars to flash a safe green light—the full-frequency signal decryption was complete.
Amidst the dead silence of the crowd, I snapped the forged steel chains binding me and slowly stood tall.

The next second, ten nuclear-powered submarines violently breached the ocean surface, and tens of thousands of heavily armored death squads descended from the sky.

Looking at my enemy, now terrified to the point of incontinence and shattering his own knees to frantically kowtow and beg for mercy, I picked up that very dog chain and slipped it around his neck.

I was once the "Abyss Sovereign" who made the entire dark world tremble.

To protect her, I willingly buried my true name and spent five years as a humble mechanic in a wealthy family.

I swallowed countless cold stares and humiliations, seeking only a moment of peace.

But these fools, for the sake of family interests, dared to push her to the brink of destruction!

Since retreat only invites further aggression, I have no choice but to don once more that blood-stained crown.

When my steel torrent crashed through the manor gates, those privileged elites who once trampled me underfoot could only tremble desperately in the mud!

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

"Kill the bitch!" Someone in the crowd yells.
I use my hands to shield my head as whips and blows rain on me.
My screams fall on deaf ears as more kicks and punch land on every exposed part of my body.
"Stop!" prince Evan's unmistakable authoritative voice roars and the mob immediately scatters away from me.
He doesn't sound as pissed as before. Did he learn the truth?
"Give the girl a quick death!"
Oops! Guess nothing changed.
The soldier plunges the sword deep into my chest.
My life doesn't flash in front of my eyes. I only feel like I am falling into a dark void.


All was well with Talia's life until her mother was falsely accused of attempting to murder the powerful Alpha Prince. Evan, the future Alpha King, is the perfect embodiment of male beauty and royal grace. But Talia was utterly disappointed when he fails to see past his mother's evil lies.

To save her mother's life, Talia boldly demanded to be punished in place of her mother. She died under the sword of the soldier. But the moon Goddess had another plan for her. She was reborn three years later and determined to take revenge on all of her enemies.

But real shock hits her when she finds out that she is King Evan's mate, the same man who doomed her family. Will she accept his help in getting them back?

Played by four bullies

“S-stop,” I said trying to get him to stop. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to fall into their trap and be their little toy again. This is the opposite of laying low.
He chuckled darkly and picked up speed with his fingers sending me over the edge in no time. I gripped his hair so hard as I came all over his fingers. As soon as I got down from my high, he let go letting my fall to the ground. I could hear him licking his fingers in the dark.
“Don’t do that again. I am not the same girl I used to be.”
He chuckled again as he started to open the door. “Mine,” was all he said as he left out the door.

Several years ago, I was trapped by four bullies. Zander, Saint, Royal and Cyrus. I am their little toy. They can play me at their will.
Now, I am back and get in the same university with them again.

Zander is the football captain, Cyrus is a basketball player. Saint and Royal are also campus stars.
Should I stay away from them or enjoy playing with them? Or revenge on the boys bullying me?

"If you hadn't played hero that day, Dayna," my father snarled, "we wouldn't be in this mess. Saving some random old woman and ruining your eyes! Do you have any idea what your medical bills cost us? Now a guy wants to marry you. Marry him quick and stop bothering us!"

I was just a college freshman when I sacrificed my sight to save an elderly lady from an accident. But now, my own family called me a blind burden and tried to marry me away. Homeless and desperate, I accepted a proposal from a man I'd never seen, who claimed the woman I saved was his grandmother: marry him so he could take care of me.

I always think I've married some poor, ugly guy. But I have no idea my mysterious husband is actually Bradley Booth—a gorgeous billionaire heir and one of the most powerful men in the city!

"You're beautiful, Amelia," he said with cool assessment, "but there's something in your bearing. You're definitely not as simple as you pretend to be."
I tilted my head with feigned innocence. "What exactly are you implying?"
"I witnessed your performance during this morning's exhibition game," Jason said. "With abilities like that, I could arrange much better opportunities for your development."
Recruit me? How laughable. If he knew my true identity, he wouldn't be saying such things.

On the surface, Amelia is a college student who has just returned to America, but in reality, she is the world's youngest and most deadly assassin. When a mysterious agent infiltrates her base and steals a top-secret file, she must personally retrieve it.
This pursuit forces her to return to the family she abandoned years ago. Here, she must not only face her hypocritical parents and the fake sister who has always been her enemy, but also recover the stolen files without exposing her true identity.
However, Jason, the agent who stole the files, possesses a pair of unforgettable green eyes—eyes that belong to her childhood savior, someone who should have died long ago. When Jason proposes a deal to her, Amelia realizes this might be her only chance to get close to the truth.

Can Amelia complete her mission before Jason uncovers her true identity? And what connection does Jason have to her savior?

After one too many failed attempts at love, I stopped believing in it. So when my father asked me to become the mate of the powerful Lycan Alpha Julius, the very man my half-sister had just rejected, all for the sake of family stability, I said yes without hesitation. A stable arrangement was far more practical than chasing some fairytale feeling.
He scheduled our mark ceremony for three months out. But in the meantime, proximity became unavoidable. I agreed to help him through his heat cycles, and somewhere between the cold distance and the burning nights, something between us began to shift.
And just when I started to believe again, my fated mate walked back into my life with a smile. The same man I'd confessed my feelings to as a teenage girl.
Now I'm standing at a crossroads with no clear way forward. Do I honor the Moon Goddess and claim the mate she chose for me, the one who feels like a second chance at a first love, or do I stay as an unmarked mate of the dangerous Lycan Alpha who holds my family's future in his hands?

"Strip and position yourself in doggy style on that dresser," he thundered dangerously, his glare fixed on the innocent girl before him. She blinked, clearly confused, unable to grasp the meaning of his command.
"I... I don't understand," she stammered, fear seeping into her trembling voice as she tried to appear brave, but her body betrayed her.
"I won't repeat myself!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the room, causing silent tears to spill down her cheeks.
"I don't know what strip or doggy style means..." she sobbed, her confusion evident, while his cold stare remained unyielding.


He's Alpha Vladimir Albert Darkclaw within his pack, but to the underworld Mafia, he is known as Lord Marino Jenkins. At 26 years old, he's a living Lucifer- no one crosses him and survives the next second. He buys and discards slaves like toys, and he's the only Alpha who taught his wolf, Annihilator, to feed on humans. As the Alpha of the Feral Fury Pack, his reign is feared, with pack members praying for it to end- but it has only just begun. Trained by the Devil himself, what else could you expect?
April Lopez, an innocent girl, sold to the Devil for money, has endured every kind of torment from the pack members... until the Devil returned. An innocent act of hers made her became his personal possession, his personal slave. His to torture...His to spoil and corrupt ...His to fuck...His to kill...
How will the innocent girl survive in a world of darkness and corruption? As his heart begins to stir with unfamiliar emotions for the daughter of the man who destroyed his family on that bloody night, will his quest for revenge falter?

In the depths of the torture room, a soul screamed in agony, his body writhing in pain as the devil, Scarlet, exacted her revenge. Her eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, her beauty twisted by the darkness that consumed her.

"Tell me more about them," she hissed, her voice like a serpent's whisper, as she pierced his thigh with a red-hot rod. The air was heavy with the stench of burning flesh and the sound of his cries echoed through the caverns of hell.

"I don't know anything!" he pleaded, his eyes wide with terror, as he struggled against the heavy chains binding his hands together.

Scarlet's laughter was like a cold breeze, sending shivers down the spine. "I became a devil because of all of you," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Now, I will use your blood to paint the city of Italy red."

With a swift motion, she raised her sword and severed his left leg, the sound of his screams echoing through the darkness. Scarlet's thirst for revenge had driven her to become a devil, fueled by the pain of her past.

But as she continued her reign of terror, a new challenge emerged. Love came knocking on her door, in the form of two men, each with their own secrets and motives. One, a man, determined to save her from the darkness, and the other, a man, who seemed to understand her pain.

Scarlet found herself torn between her desire for revenge and the possibility of redemption. As she navigated the treacherous landscape of love and hate, she realized that her revenge might come at a higher cost than she had ever imagined.

Will Scarlet succeed in her quest for revenge, or will love and redemption change her course? Can she escape the dangerous love triangle that threatens to consume her, or will she succumb to the darkness that has driven her for so long? The fate of Italy hangs in the balance, as Scarlet's story unfolds.

Five years ago, the Silverfang Pack watched their future king, Alpha Kael Thorncrest, publicly reject the lowest omega, Lyra Moonveil in the kingdom then mark her in a moonlit frenzy no one was supposed to remember.

Devastated and humiliated, Lyra fled with the Alpha’s twins still hidden inside her, and birthed them under a Blood Moon that cracked open an ancient prophecy: one child will crown the kingdom, the other will burn it to ash.

Now she returns to the kingdom as “Mist,” the veiled healer whose touch can knit bone and soul alike. Alpha Kael Thorncrest does not recognize the woman whose scent still haunts his broken wolf. But when one of her children steps into the palace and the bond flares like wildfire, every lie Kael built his throne on begins to collapse.

"Who touched you?"

Lukas didn't ask twice. The servant who brushed against Louise lost his hand before he could scream. No one touches what is his. It is a rule he has enforced for centuries.

He is a Founding Vampire. Unkillable. A monster. He has felt nothing in a thousand years—until he found her.

She is the Anathema. A cursed girl who can decay anything with a touch. The only creature on earth who can stop his heart.

He should have killed her. Instead, he took her.

But the other Monsters are coming. And they will burn the world to control her. And Lukas who has never protected anything but his own existence, discovers he will burn the world right back.

Because she is his and he will let nothing rot her but him.

Jessica Winters is more than broken and beautiful after being betrayed by her fiancee and bestie, in anger she runs away and lodges in a hotel but forgot her phone and money. Fortunately, she was saved by the C E O of the hotel Davis Miller.

Davis Miller was a good looking, sexy young man with a Son Robin.

What happens when Jessica goes to look for a job and is offered a huge deal by a billionaire?

What happens when Jessica starts acting as Robin's real mother while his biological mother is still alive?

What happens when Robin's real mother comes back to claim her son?

Who will Robin choose?

A mother who abandoned her child because of money or a lady who chooses to act his mom in other to make him happy?

What will Davis do? Will he side his son's decision or go after the person he truly loves ?

I lived as the Smiths’ daughter for seventeen years, only to find out one day that I was never really one of them—a fake heiress from the start. I didn’t hesitate. I cut all ties with the Smith family and returned to the struggling Johnsons. I didn’t even bother to pack—just took my phone and left.
People said I was in for a rough time. After all, I’d never gotten along with the Smith brothers, and now that I’d lost everything, they thought things could only get worse.
But what they didn’t know was this: the world-famous designer is my friend, the legendary doctor is my mentor, and the CEO of a major company is my childhood friend.
As for me, I’m a hit composer, a mysterious sculptor, and a young entrepreneur.
My classmates say I’m neither Ms. Smith nor Ms. Johnson—I belong to myself.
But my childhood friend just laughs and says, “She belongs to me, too.”

I spent a month pretending to be a coward in a mercenary cannon-fodder camp.

A recruit shattered my nose with a punch and ground his combat boot into my face; the instructor cut off my water during drills in forty-degree heat, waiting for me to drop dead from dehydration. To prevent the military AI surveillance overhead from catching my tactical muscle memory, I forcibly locked down my combat instincts and swallowed blood mixed with dirt.

They thought I was just a sluggish forty-two-year-old drifter, unaware that in the Pentagon's top-secret sealed files, I am a former Joint Special Operations Command "Tier 0" Ghost Operative.

Until that day, when heavily armored mercenaries raided the camp, and an EMP grenade paralyzed the entire surveillance grid.

Staring at the extinguished infrared indicator lights above, I snapped an enemy's neck and picked up a rifle from the ground.

"Alright, restrictions lifted."

I was reborn twelve hours before the anomaly occurred.

In my previous life, I died tragically in a sea of fire, unable to even protect my three-year-old daughter.

In this life, I returned from hell with the "Shadow" that rules the abyss, only to discover that the only antidote to ending the wasteland lies in my daughter's palm.

Her ex-wife, who was possessed by a monster, the greedy military, and even "myself" who went mad across parallel universes all tried to tear her apart and suck her blood.

You want to harm my daughter? Fine. Then let's see if you can withstand this all-consuming polar night!

During the shipwreck, my fiancée, to save my "white moonlight" (my unrequited love), forcibly pried open my bleeding fingers and snatched my last life jacket.
"He can't swim, you hold on a little longer."

At that moment, I gave up completely and let myself sink into the cold, deep sea.

Later, I returned from the ashes and became an unapproachable tycoon.

She went bankrupt and became a beggar, but amidst the heavy snow, she watched my wedding of the century, knelt on the street, and breathed her last in remorse.

Belated affection is ultimately worth less than grass.

When the red moon descends, humans become living food.

In this apocalyptic survival battle with no way out, I was trapped on a fallen highway with 300 rifle bullets and the only "living antidote" for all mankind.

Behind them stretched an endless horde of mutated zombies, their hearing ten times sharper; ahead lay a deathly blockade, poised to unleash a second wave of devastating meteors at any moment. The countdown had begun, and teammates fell one after another into pools of blood, desperately providing cover.

Retreat? There's a life-saving vaccine in the trunk; advance? Ahead lies a hopeless dead end with a 100% mortality rate.

I silently chambered the round. Since fate intends for humanity to become extinct, then I'll use firepower to carve a bloody path through them!

Intro: Reborn three years into the past, I watched coldly as my scheming ex-girlfriend and my so-called sworn brother got together—the same two who had conspired to frame me in my past life. They had no idea that in all of Silvermist City, I was the only one who could devour dragonbone shards—if that certain lady wanted to survive, she would have to kneel and beg me to fall in love with her again. And my dear brother, who'd sweet-talked his way into the royal box? He probably hadn't calculated how many seconds that golden voice of his could burn for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The entire ruins knelt down.

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

Intro: Six hours before the apocalypse, I was reborn. A gray panel now floated before my eyes, showing my physical stats. In the scant time left, I had to use limited supplies to complete the system's tasks, grind levels like mad, gather scattered resources, and build my own doomsday fortress. This time around, I would exact ultimate revenge on all those who had betrayed me.

Intro: I spent three years as a logistics mage in the Darkmoon Pack, chasing the wolf clan's female war goddess for a full year. I repaired her armor, mixed her potions, and secretly tucked protective charms inside her gear. She never once looked me in the eye. At the bonfire banquet, after enduring humiliation, I took the initiative to sever ties and walked away. Without my help, she lost everything. When I was reborn and returned, facing the one and only chance to win me back, she finally chose to make the first move.

Seven days before the apocalypse, my vampire parents forced me to hand over three million to buy a house for my baby brother in full.

As an actuary, I knew that order would collapse in seven days and the money would become worthless. So I not only readily agreed, but also used their family's records as collateral to raise millions in high-interest loans, building an impregnable, top-secret fortress.

Seven days later, an unexpected change occurred.

The debt-collecting gangs and the endless horde of zombies drove them to the brink of despair. Meanwhile, I sat in a temperature-controlled safe house, sipping freshly ground coffee, calmly watching the cannibalistic karmic retribution unfold on the security camera.

In the apocalypse, there is no family affection, only the probability of survival.

For the past ten years, I've been the worst-ranked cleaner in the Hero Association .
The S-class war god regarded me as an ant, wantonly trampling on my dignity on this floor.
Until that day, the SSS-level villain broke out of prison, massacred the headquarters, and the high and mighty gods knelt in pools of blood like dead dogs, howling in despair.
I silently picked up the mop and walked up to the arrogant villain: "You've dirtied my floor, please cooperate with the cleaning."
The next second, the concept vanished, reduced to ashes! The entire audience was shocked: "I told you to mop the floor, and you wiped the villain away?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To surprise her I ended my business trip early only to catch my fiancee entangled with my best friend of ten years in our marital bed

The next day at an elite gala she publicly announced the engagement was over then drove me out into the freezing downpour like a drowned dog mocking me in front of everyone as a worthless castoff

She did not know that the Wall Street financial predator who had hidden his edge for love had finally had his shackles cut off by their own hands

Back in New York I struck back by shorting the Roland family empire watching coldly as that sanctimonious friend devoured her family fortune piece by piece then tossed her into a dungeon on a remote island overseas to torment her at will

Months later when she crawled out of a dark cell on the verge of a breakdown clutching my dress shoe in the stinking mud and sobbing as she begged humbly that she would do anything if only she could stay by my side

I merely wiped the mud she had smeared on my trousers and let a filthy wet wipe drift onto her face

Some trash once you throw it out you never pick it up again

To win a smile from my icy wife, I stood for four hours in a London blizzard, only to be greeted by her returning hand-in-hand with her childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from abroad.

For three years of marriage, I had concealed all my sharp edges, solely to warm her heart.
Until company secrets were leaked, and she unquestioningly believed her childhood sweetheart's framing, locking me, who suffered from severe claustrophobia, in a dark, abandoned wine cellar for a full forty-eight hours.

Watching her arrogantly slam the "Clean Break Agreement" onto my bleeding face, I smiled.
The moment I signed my name, the humble Arthur who loved her died utterly in the abyss.

That night, my yacht ran aground and exploded.
And the first heir of the Vance conglomerate, missing for three years, officially took control of the global technology lifeline.

Six months later, betrayed and facing bankruptcy, she clung to my trousers like a dead dog on the red carpet of a top-tier banquet, weeping and begging me to start over.
I was arm in arm with a true socialite, and I didn't even lift an eyelid as I looked at the woman covered in mud on the floor:
"Security, throw this crazy woman who's dirtied the carpet away. Don't spoil my fun."

Intro: I'm an S-Class superhuman, but I was locked in a basement for five full years, subjected to inhuman abuse and torment. All they wanted was to drain my blood and energy dry. I once believed that if I could just endure it all, I would see my family again. Until my wife Valen's voice came through the intercom and revealed that it was all a lie. I will turn my fury into strength and tear it all apart with my own hands.

In my last life, I shoved my wife Sarah out of the path of an oncoming car and ended up critically injured myself.
My mother-in-law, determined to get her hands on my savings, secretly switched my medication with cheap knockoffs and left me permanently infertile.
Then she showed up at my office and made a huge scene, pressuring me to quit my job and become a full-time househusband.
As for her and Sarah? They had the nerve to move in some so-called lover who could "carry on the family line," then used my hard-earned money to support him under my own roof.
When the apocalypse hit, they locked me in a room and fed me to that infected homewrecker.
Now that I've been given a second chance, I look at the three parasites standing in front of me—mocking me, acting self-righteous...
I feel no anger. Only amusement.
Fourteen days until the zombie outbreak, and they're still dreaming about how to bleed me dry.
This time, I'm taking back every cent they stole from me—with interest.
And when the end finally comes, I'll be sitting inside my impenetrable safe house, watching with ice in my veins as they turn on each other in despair.

The wife in the cryogenic chamber had only three minutes left.

I had an iron hook pierce my collarbone, and my knees shattered while kneeling at a lavish banquet. Wine glasses smashed at my feet, flashbulbs were pointed at my face, and everyone was laughing—the former war god of the North, now less than a dog.

Victor stomped on the remote control and smashed it.

When the red light of the three-minute countdown popped up, I raised my head. The sealing nails on my shoulders were blasted away by the qi, and what surged from the dark golden depths of my eyes made the entire building tremble.

He crushed over a hundred mercenaries with a single punch.

He tore open the alloy gate with his bare hands.

One hundred thousand black-armored demons knelt down from the darkness, and their commander cut off his own arm to plead guilty.

I pressed the full-frequency communication button, draped in a blood-patterned cloak: "Seven days. Make the three great empires hand over the restorative herbs. If even one herb is missing—wipe out the entire nation."

He knelt before his wife, he fought his way through the world for her. The moment she awoke was the beginning of this world paying its debt.

The day my wife, Hollywood’s newly crowned Best Actress, landed an S-tier deal, she arrogantly tossed a separation agreement in my face.

“I’m moving into Beverly Hills. A salaried office worker like you will only drag down my status. If you can’t come up with a ten-million-dollar mansion, then get out of my life.”

She thought she had latched onto a media tycoon, and eagerly signed the “fake divorce loan” agreement I had tailored just for her.

What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just the pathetic husband she thought I was. I was also a quantitative strategist from Wall Street, a man who could turn the markets upside down.

That ten million dollars became the seed capital I used to short the tycoon backing her.

When she was ruined at her movie premiere, burdened with crushing debt, and crawled barefoot like a stray dog up to the hillside mansion, begging hysterically for me to remarry her, I was already toasting a successful acquisition with my Wall Street partner.

Then I watched coldly as the security guards threw her into the Los Angeles night like a piece of rotten industrial waste.

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.

Just as my business partner called to gloat, the loan shark's hitmen were frantically hacking at my security door.

"Arthur, I've been reborn too. I embezzled that ten million in company funds to build a doomsday bunker. Enjoy taking the knife for me!"

Listening to the voice through the receiver, I simply smashed the window and vaulted from the second floor, not wasting even half a second on his bullshit.

Building a private shelter with ten million in dirty money? He had absolutely no idea just how terrifying the monsters that would rip apart the earth's crust in thirty days truly were.

Dragging my bleeding arm, I charged into an underground internet cafe and forcibly hacked into the highest early warning system of the Overseas Defense Agency.

Half a year later, the Abyss descended. His proud bunker was crushed like papier-mâché during the very first beast tide. As he scrambled for his life through the mud like a pathetic bug, he looked up—only to see a national-level steel fortress stretching for thousands of kilometers across the horizon.

And there I was, clad in a black-and-gold Supreme Commander uniform, looking down at him from hundreds of meters above.

"You good-for-nothing should get out and save your food rations. I'll use your truckload of supplies for you!"

The man-eating scarlet spores swept through the town. My good brother locked the security door tightly and locked me in the corridor filled with blood mist.

He stared intently at me through the peephole, waiting to see the horrific sight of my internal organs being drained by the fungus.

But a second before I was devoured by the spores, I hid in my personal space and with a single thought drained the last drop of water and every grain of rice from the room.

Three days later, in this impregnable "vacuum tomb".

When he was so thirsty that he swallowed blood, and knelt on the ground desperately pounding on the door.

I kicked the door open, tied him up with nylon rope, and hung him upside down in the blood-red storm outside the window.

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.

Extreme cold descended suddenly, with temperatures approaching minus eighty degrees Celsius.

My girlfriend tricked me into leaving the temperature-controlled fortress I had built with all my savings. She took her whole family and her lover and took over the place, leaving me, a cripple, to be left to die in a blizzard.

They sat around my fireplace eating top-grade Wagyu beef, declaring they would watch me freeze into an ice sculpture.

But what they didn't know was that, locked out, I turned around and dialed the number of the most brutal outlaw in the apocalypse.

I don't want the billion-dollar supplies and the houses; all I want is for their whole family to be trapped in this inescapable, icy hell, unable to live or die.

To atone for my fallen brothers, I concealed my identity and willingly played the role of a worthless loser in the eyes of my influencer wife.

I swallowed her endless abuse and the humiliation from her wealthy new suitor. I thought that by dragging my dignity through the mud, I could finally buy peace for my soul.

Until that day. Desperate for livestream traffic, she and her crew violently smashed down my door. She shattered the pocket watch left behind by my comrade's mother. She threw the casualty list—stained with the blood of my Special Forces unit—into the filthy water, trampling it underfoot while hundreds of thousands of netizens mocked me online.

They had no idea that every single name on that ledger was once a sharp blade that guarded this nation.

Staring at the soiled hero's insignia, I finally realized that submission would never bring redemption. I wiped the mud from the relics and dialed a long-dormant encrypted terminal:

"Operation 'Reckoning'—initiate full activation."

Since a shield can no longer protect my faith, it is time to draw the sword of judgment.

Six months into the apocalypse, I risked my life to pamper my girlfriend like a princess, only to be betrayed by her and the camp leader .
My legs were broken, and I was thrown over the wall to be eaten by dogs ; hundreds of civilians I had once protected turned on me .
On the verge of death, I unexpectedly rescued a mysterious prodigy, instantly binding myself to an endless space and granting me divine healing abilities . My severed limbs regenerated instantly, and I had access to countless top-tier resources .
Returning to the camp fully healed, I stomped on the leader's knee and kicked my scheming ex-girlfriend into a horde of zombies .
In this damn apocalypse, from this day forward, I am the one and only new king .

At my ex-wife's century wedding engagement banquet, she pointed at my nose and humiliated me publicly: "A waste of space who lays bricks, get out!"
Her wealthy new lover pressed my face hard into broken glass and forcibly dragged away my desperately crying five-year-old daughter.
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, drew the "Ghost Mark," and dialed the Pentagon hotline that had been dormant for five years.
Three seconds later, twelve Black Hawk helicopters shattered the dome, and a special task force descended from the sky. A two-star general, amid the terrified gazes of the assembled elite, saluted me with a thunderous: "Ghost Commander, troops have arrived as ordered!"
My ex-wife, who had been so arrogant just moments ago, instantly collapsed to the ground.

In my past life, I kindly took in my girlfriend and brother, only to be pushed into a torrent of acid rain and melted alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the apocalypse, only to find that my girlfriend had also been reborn! She was secretly plotting on the balcony to drain my assets to build her and her best male friend's post-apocalyptic love nest? I scoffed, decisively sold all my possessions, and bought a private island in the Pacific to build a top-tier fortress. When the mutated red rain descended and zombies swept the globe, I sipped iced whiskey in a temperature-controlled greenhouse, quietly watching that despicable couple starve and die in their Los Angeles penthouse, tearing each other apart like wild dogs for survival…

The extreme cold apocalypse descended, with global temperatures plummeting to minus 70 degrees Celsius. Cities were reduced to frozen wastelands overrun by frozen corpses.

On the eve of the crisis, I awakened the Berserk Zombie Horde System. Facing exploitation from a ruthless agency and betrayal by my gold-digging girlfriend, I directly used a system backdoor to hack into the agency's accounts, siphoning a massive 7 million dollars!

I purchased heavy-duty generators, hoarded hundreds of tons of supplies, and transformed an abandoned mine into an underground steel fortress with fully automated climate control.

The apocalypse arrived exactly on schedule, plunging the entire city into a total blackout. While my enemies turned purple from the cold, kneeling outside my blast doors and begging for mercy, I sat in my 25-degree Celsius climate-controlled room, sipping whiskey. With a casual flick of a switch, I activated the traps, sending them out to feed the monsters in the blizzard.

In this white wasteland, I am the only rule!

My fiancée, with whom I've been in a relationship for three years, has threatened to break off our engagement for the hundredth time, forcing me to donate a kidney to her adopted brother, who's faking illness and acting like a hypocrite.

My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"

They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.

Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.

"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."

Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.

But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.

The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.

She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.

"We literally just met. Don’t you think a flash marriage is moving a little fast?" said Michael, a blind date arranged by my mother.
"People get married quick all the time now," I shot back. "We could get the paperwork done, take time to actually get to know each other. If it works out, great. If not, we divorce."
He smiled. "Alright. Then let’s try it."

Sarah Martinez works as a restaurant server. Haunted by fragmented memories of a past she can’t fully recall, she’s desperate to escape her mother’s constant worry about her future. When she meets Michael Johnson, a man who seems to be the perfect solution to her problems, she impulsively proposes marriage.
However, Michael is not who he appears to be. He’s a man of power and wealth. When Sarah mistakes him for her mother’s arranged blind date, he decides to play along, intrigued by her sincerity and the possibility of a marriage free from the gold-diggers he’s used to.
Their marriage starts as a practical arrangement, but as they navigate their new life together, feelings begin to blur the lines of their agreement.

Will Sarah discover Michael’s true identity? Can Michael trust Sarah’s intentions, or is she just another woman after his wealth? And what will happen when Sarah’s ex, a Hollywood star, tries to win her back?

Alessandra is the daughter of the leader of one of the strongest mafia families, Valentino Benetti. She wants to leave the life of the underworld, but her father won't let her go. Since she's the only daughter after her older brothers died in a shooting with the Romano family, one of the rival families, she's now next in line to rule the family. Her father teaches her to be ruthless, but it's not who she truly is. In all actuality, she wants the family reign to end with her father. After numerous failed attempts at leaving, her father finally decided to assign a bodyguard to her. Not only to protect her, but to prevent her from running away ever again. Their first meeting is the start of something new in her life; A change that changes Alessandra's life forever.

My legs are pinned to the mattress, and his head is between my thighs and all I can think of is, ‘maybe I’ll slit his throat after he makes me cum’.

My mission is to infiltrate his hockey secret society and find concrete evidence to bring them down. I'm supposed to be staying behind the camera, taking notes from the sidelines, and collecting evidence.

Instead, I’m spending my nights letting him fuck me to oblivion. He thinks I'm suspicious. I know he’s dangerous, he's my fucking target and a murder suspect after all. But do I still end up tangled in his sheets? Absolutely yes.

Sitting rinkside at his games, wearing his number, filming the hockey team content, and playing the part of his perfect girlfriend is starting to feel entirely too real. He is starting to live rent-free in my head, and the boundary between my assignment and my obsession is gone.

I have the evidence to destroy him. The problem? More bodies are starting to line up across campus, and his secret society may not be the one holding the blade. There’s someone much worse out there hunting in the shadows, and my gorgeous target might be the only one who can keep me alive.

When star hockey player Jack Reynolds tosses divorce papers at his wife Emma, he believes he's trading up for a more glamorous model who "understands his lifestyle." What he doesn't know: the quiet, supportive woman he's discarding is the secret heir to an $18 billion fortune – and the granddaughter of the man who owns his hockey team.For eight years, Emma Mitchell hid her true identity, supporting Jack's career while secretly learning the business from the ground up. Now, with her grandfather's health failing and the Boston Blades facing financial crisis, Emma is poised to step into her rightful role as majority owner.*Some men have to lose everything to realize what they had. Some women have to lose a husband to find themselves. In this game, the most dangerous plays happen off the ice.

"Sign your name, and seal your fate," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction, as he slid the marriage document across the table. Cassandra's eyes widened, her heart racing with trepidation, as she gazed at the paper that would bind her to this enigmatic stranger.

"I promise you, my dear, a life of revenge and redemption," he coaxed, his piercing gaze burning into her soul. "But first, you must sign."

Cassandra's hand trembled as she reached for the pen, her mind screaming warnings of danger and deceit. Yet, something about his words resonated deep within her, fueling a hunger for vengeance against the Cross family, who had wronged her so brutally.

With a deep breath, she signed her name, and her fate was sealed.

"Now, my dear, prepare yourself for a journey of no return," he murmured, his dark smirk hinting at the destruction that was to come.

A year passed, and the Cross family thought they had finally escaped the wrath of Cassandra. But little did they know, a hurricane was brewing, and she was its eye, ready to unleash a storm of fury and devastation upon them.

With her billionaire husband by her side, Cassandra returned, her presence striking fear into the hearts of the Cross family. She single-handedly dismantled their empire, her plans for revenge meticulously crafted to leave them in ruins.

And when the time was right, she orchestrated a grand CEO's party, a stage for her triumphant return. The Cross family, once so proud and powerful, now cowered before her, their eyes wide with terror, as they realized too late that they had underestimated the wrath of a woman scorned.

How would the Cross family survive the fury of Cassandra's return? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain – the storm had arrived.

She was the voice the world couldn’t stop listening to—until it was silenced.

Alice Rodriguez had it all: a voice that turned hearts inside out, a boyfriend adored by the fashion elite, and a future drenched in spotlight.

But when the police stormed her concert and arrested her for a crime she didn’t commit, everything shattered.

Framed.

Forgotten.

Replaced.

Two years later, she walks free with nothing but scars and silence.

Her name is poison. Her fans, now enemies, and the man she once loved? Vanished—leaving behind betrayal and a child with his childhood best friend.

But revenge gives her purpose.

Infiltrating the notorious DeVescori mafia—known only as La Casa di Sangue** (“The House of Blood) She trades her mic for a blade.

Alice becomes entangled in a world of blood, power, and lust.

She’s hired as a pianist for Silas DeVescori, the fragile, mentally unstable heir… but it’s Tiberio, his ruthless brother and underground music producer, who marks her as his next obsession.

He offers her a deal: become his assassin, reclaim her career, and take down the man who ruined her.

The only catch? Her soul might not survive.

Torn between two dangerous brothers and caught in a deadly game of love, power, and vengeance, Alice must choose:

Will she become the instrument in Tiberio’s ruthless symphony…

Or will she compose a final note that silences them all?

The day I disappeared, everyone thought I went on a "recovery trip overseas." Only she knew that I was in her basement—being drugged, tied up, and forced to work, living as a tool, relying on the threat that "someone outside wants to kill you."

I helped her refine her perfume formula to the point where it could be launched on the stock exchange, and she immediately wanted to "fire" me: she poured cement into my house during a torrential downpour, hoping I would die in a hallucination.

But I didn't die, and I even managed to recover my memories piece by piece.

The moment the stock exchange rang, I cut off the live stream signal, exposing the recordings, evidence, and transaction records on the spot. She went from a genius entrepreneur to a public enemy, and her default on buybacks ballooned to billions.

Only then did she come after me: kneeling, begging for forgiveness, risking her life to block cars, and finally collapsing in a hospital bed waiting for my forgiveness.