3383 Book(s) Related to my stepmoms daughter was my ex-girlfriend

I woke up, and my world collapsed.

Lying next to me was Sebastian—the golden boy, the heir to the Rhodes empire, and the nemesis who has tormented me for twenty years.

I fled. I swore to take that night to my grave. If I kept my mouth shut, no one would know.

But Fate has a twisted sense of humor. Five weeks later, two red lines on a pregnancy test slapped me in the face. I’m pregnant. And the father isn’t just my childhood nightmare. He’s the man who just bought my company. My new boss.

I tried to hide. He hunted me down. He scares off my dates. He tramples my pride. He invades my life like a tyrant. He mocks me in public, yet destroys anyone who touches me in private.

"Nancy, did you really think you could escape?" He pins me against the wall, his eyes dark, that familiar scent of cedar suffocating me. "Admit it. You hate me, but you need me."

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

My father died owing the Callahan family a blood debt. His payment? Me and my sister—married off to their sons.

I woke up reborn on the night they buried him.

Standing in that funeral chamber, watching the lawyer crack open the sealed will, I discovered I could suddenly hear thoughts. My sister Vivienne's voice ripped through my head: Not marrying that butcher. No way in hell.

She lunged forward and grabbed Adrian—the refined bastard son who looked like a lawyer instead of a mobster. The same "perfect gentleman" I married in my past life.

Which left me with Dominic Callahan. The scarred heir. The Executioner.

Last time around, Vivienne married Dominic and got beaten down for years. I married Adrian and lived like a queen.

I almost laughed out loud.

Because she has no idea—this time, she's the one who grabbed the monster.

My fiancé and I got engaged, then he joined an academic project in another state that required him to stay for a year.

I agreed to wait for him to come back and get married, with plans to see each other once a month.

But for the entire year, he found excuses every month to avoid seeing me.

Even when my mother was critically ill, I called him crying, but the phone always went to cold voicemail.

That day I drove three hours to find him and waited outside his apartment for a long time.

He still never replied.

So I stopped waiting for him and married a man who treated me well.

Who knew that when he found out I got married, he regretted it.

My sister's husband showed up on the gossip pages with his first love, so Claire decided to divorce him. Then she asked whether I was leaving too.

"Of course," I said.

I had been my sister's shadow since we were kids. Claire was smart, capable, and brave enough for both of us. She married billionaire CEO Grant Whitaker, and I married his younger brother, Cole. Following her had given me a home, a career, and a husband who made me forget how much I liked sleeping.

If Claire left the Whitaker family, I was leaving with her.

Cole's eyes went red when he found my packed suitcases. He backed me into the watch cabinet and gripped my waist hard.

"My brother may have cheated," he said. "I didn't. I'm not giving you a divorce."

I always thought Arthur's surgical hands were a gift from God.

When my sister Emily was crushed in a car crash, he spent ten grueling hours in the OR. He emerged exhausted, eyes red, and pulled me tight. "I'm sorry, Anna. I tried everything," he whispered. "But her heart... it can still save someone else."

I believed him. God help me, I even thanked him.

A year later, I cracked his locked safe and found a black flash drive.

The security footage showed my husband hovering over Emily's ICU bed. He didn't call for help. He didn't try to save her. He just watched her oxygen drop, then calmly reached out and yanked her breathing tube.

One room over, his first love was waiting for a heart transplant.

Just like that, my world vanished. My husband wasn't a savior in a white coat. He was an executioner.

Three years ago, to save my Clan Lord husband from a hunter's death trap, I forced him to stop at the border.

Instead, his First Embrace, Seraphina, crossed in his place and was burned to ashes.

Shattered by her death, he suffered a breakdown and was diagnosed with Crimson Frenzy.

For three years, I let him wildly drain my source blood, cheating death in underground clinics countless times.

This time, his violent feeding caused a miscarriage and permanently destroyed my ability to conceive.

Yet, while still in agony and desperate to find him a cure, I overheard his secret conversation with the butler.

"My Lord, Seraphina is still alive. Why keep faking this illness? If the Madame finds out and severs the Blood Pact..."

"Sever it? What right does she have? If she hadn't blocked me back then, Seraphina would never have run off with another vampire. She deserves every bit of this suffering!"

When twisted steel tore through my stomach in a horrific helicopter crash, I was pushed to the absolute brink of death.

In my darkest moment, Alaric, the Vampire High Lord, saved me.

He healed my shattered body, bound me as his fiercely protected mate, and spoiled me with what I thought was endless devotion.

Until tonight. My blood amulet unexpectedly resonated with our pact's magic, intercepting his encrypted call with his private physician.

"I orchestrated that crash. Maiming her was the only way to justify the continuous blood draws."

"But My Lord, drawing any more will cross the lethal threshold..."

"So what? She has a congenital immunity to pain. As long as she doesn't die, it's an honor for her to bleed to suppress Elena's werewolf venom."

The salvation I worshipped was nothing but a meticulously designed trap to harvest my veins.

If that's the case, I will tear this blood pact to shreds.

My roommate provoked a demon, dragging me into a deadly hunt. Eerie mirror visions and ominous warnings kept coming. Just as I was on the verge of breaking, I discovered my roommate was hiding a shocking secret—and my being hunted was never an accident.

"Without her designs, none of this would have happened." My husband raised his glass to me in front of everyone.
Eight years of marriage. Five years building this company from a moldy basement. I thought we'd finally made it—until that night, when his mistress's messages lit up his iPad: "You hurt me on the couch last night." "You promised to marry me and let me move into your villa. I can't wait anymore."
I gave this man eight whole years—my talent, my entire youth. And he wanted to take it all to support his mistress.
Sorry, darling. I'm not the fool you married anymore.

I loved Lia Rockefeller for ten years, and it cost me everything.
When she said the cheerleaders were ganging up on her, I charged in and took the punches for her.
When she cried that her stepsister would ruin her at Yale, I tore up my acceptance letter right then and there.
When she held me tight in the middle of the night and whispered, "I'm so lucky to have you"—I thought it meant forever.
Three months later, I overheard her laughing in the locker room—laughing at me.
"Ian's like a lapdog. So easy to play. Now that Yale spot's open, Emmett can go with me instead."
The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces? Just tools to control me—to keep me loyal while she slept with her side piece.
She thought I'd still take a punch for her, even with a broken nose.
She thought I'd never wake up.
I'm awake now.
In her stepsister Serena's bed.

The world honored Professor Guo Zhenghua for his devotion to justice—and praised his wife, Lin Wanyu, as a woman of rare integrity.
But Lin Wanyu was not her name.
The real Lin Wanyu was my grandmother. She died in a remote village without legal papers, a marked grave, or anyone willing to admit who she was.
When the impostors’ grandson demanded a position at my law firm, I told him no.
By morning, his family had taken my career.
By noon, I had opened the file that could take everything from them.

I died on that operating table.

Arthur cut my five-year-old son Leo open and took his kidneys to save his bastard kid. Leo died. I died. They threw us out like garbage in the snow.

But I came back.

Back to that same rainy night. This time when Arthur tried stealing Leo's life-saving medicine for that bitch Lily, I slapped her face to pieces.

Outside the OR, Arthur shoved donation papers at me. I laughed and dialed a number I'd buried five years ago.

"Viktor? Your sister needs a favor. Bring your guns."

Explosions echoed through the hospital as my brother walked through the smoke.

"Nobody touches my nephew." His gun pressed against Arthur's forehead.

Arthur was scared shitless: "Jesus Christ... you're a Rockwell?!"

Too bad he figured it out too late.

My son Leo died in the snow. Three rogue wolves tore him apart that winter night.

My Alpha mate Carl didn't hunt them down. Instead, he brought home Elena—his childhood sweetheart—and her five-year-old bastard.

"Leo died because you failed as Luna," he said, pushing the boy toward me. "You'll raise him as our heir."

I looked into those cold eyes, and something inside me died.

At the cliff, I severed our bond in front of the entire pack. Then I jumped.

That unbreakable Alpha? He shattered completely.

After living in the countryside for eighteen years, Laura's real father came to her. For a moment, the upper class knew that the Taylors had an additional illegitimate daughter of a bumpkin. When she got back to her real family, everyone mocked her for not being as versatile, gentle, and considerate as her older sister.

Her father looked down upon her and warned her to keep her nose clean.

Marcus was the son of the first wife of Mr. Brown. His brothers were all hostile to him, so his aunt want to connect with the Taylors through marriage to crack Marcus down. Laura was forced to marry the sick and unfaithful man, and everyone said that they are a "perfect match".

It didn't take long for Laura's various alias to be dug out, and the members of the Taylors felt regret. All young talents were crazy about her. However, Marcus just laughed out of court and unhesitatingly declared their relationship.

I found the lie on a Tuesday.
Five thousand dollars. Every month. Going to a woman with my husband's last name.
When Flynn came home and saw me sitting on the office floor surrounded by bank statements, he didn't even try to deny it. He just stood there and told me he couldn't explain.
Three years of marriage and all I got was "I can't".
So I left.
Three months later I met Dominic. Flynn's biggest business rival. Charming, warm, patient in all the ways Flynn never was. He made me laugh for the first time in months. He made me feel like myself again.
He felt like the right choice.
Except he wasn't.
Now I'm pregnant, furious, and standing in the middle of two men who both claim they love me.
They're both asking me to trust them.
But they both already broke that trust.

A seventeen years old Sera Calix was never meant to set a foot in Virelade Academy, the country's most prestigious elite all boys school. But a paperwork error gave her a chance to escape a life of serving the masters and she'll do anything to hold onto it. Even if it means disguising herself as a boy!.

The plan was to keep her head down, graduate and disappear but the problem was Kael Ashbourne, her new roommate, her worst nightmare and on top of that he's the son of the president, the same man where her mom works for.

As secrets build, Sera struggles to survive a world that was built to shut her out. But the biggest danger wasn't being caught but it's the way Kael looks at her like he already knows she's lying.

She's living a lie...
And only one person can expose her... Kael Ashbourne!

Catherine accepted her fate as an object of pleasure for the cold Alpha Nathan who had previously rejected her. Her not-so peaceful life is distracted when she found out she's pregnant. She flees to a different pack where she sought new beginnings. A year later, she comes running back to her pack in tears to seek for help.
Just when she thought everything was over, a mystery of her identity comes to light and the pack she once called home, wants her dead! Why did she come back? And why do they want her dead?
Join on this intriguing journey of love, betrayal and emotional roller coasters.

I had caught Jasper entertaining the same woman in his bed seventeen times.   The first time I caught them, the shock triggered a miscarriage.   As I collapsed on his office floor in agony, Jasper didn't call 911. He just ordered his security to mop up my blood before it could ruin Lenora's designer shoes.   "At the end of the day, you're the one sitting at the head of my table," he would remind me, keeping me trapped.   When my grief finally turned to rage, I exposed their affair on his company's bulletin board.   In response, Jasper invited the tabloid press to our home. He tossed a contract at me with a cruel smirk.   "I have one other mistress," he challenged. "Find her in thirty days, and I'll drop Lenora and come home for good."   Desperate to save my marriage, I exhausted a fortune on private investigators. Yet, all my traps only ever caught Lenora.   Today was the deadline. Surrounded by flashing cameras and paparazzi, I exhaustedly slid a piece of paper with Lenora's name across the table.   "Jasper, please stop playing games."   Jasper lounged on the sofa, his arm wrapped around Lenora. He looked at me with cold, apathetic eyes.   "You dug through my entire life, yet missed the most glaring detail. The other woman... is you, Elowen."

They said I killed them all.

My father. My daughter. My brother's legs. One explosion, one moment of selfishness, and I became the family murderer.

My husband Dominic—the most feared mafia boss in the city—drowned himself in whiskey. I drowned myself in something worse.

Three years on the pole. Three years with strangers' cash stuffed in my bra, their cocks shoved down my throat, their fists in back alleys, their cameras catching every degradation. Three years swallowing cum and shame to scrape together half a million for my brother's surgery.

Then the doctors found the tumor. Three months left.

One last show, I told myself. A blindfolded performance. Enough to pay off Ethan's debt before I died.

That's when someone ripped off my blindfold.

Dominic.

Behind him stood my very-alive father. And Ethan—on two perfect legs, kicking aside an empty wheelchair. And my adopted sister Vanessa, draped over my husband, flashing a diamond ring.

This whole performance? Her birthday present.

"Surprise, sweetheart." Dominic smiled. "The explosion was fake. We just needed to put you in your place."

Ethan laughed. "Three years of stripper money made one hell of a party, sis."

My father still wouldn't look at me. "Learn to treat Vanessa right, or you're no daughter of mine."

The room exploded in laughter.

I stood there, diagnosis crumpled in my fist.

The explosion was fake. The crippled legs were fake. Everything was fake.

But the cancer eating my brain?

That was real.

At three in the morning, I dragged my suitcase through the front door.
After a full week at an exchange program in Germany, I was too tired to even turn on the lights. I went straight to the shower.
The hot water poured over me, and I went cold all over.
A hundred and thirteen degrees.
My temperature. The one I always use.
Ryan had always said it was scalding. In five years of marriage I must have reminded him a thousand times, but every time he showered, the dial stayed parked at his lukewarm ninety-eight. Not once had he turned it back.
Tonight, the temperature was right.
Which meant only one thing: the last person to use this shower wasn't him.
I wrapped myself in a towel and leaned against the bedroom doorframe. "So," I said, keeping my voice light. "Since when do you think about your wife?"
The man in the bed blinked, then grinned and snapped me a textbook salute. "Yes, ma'am. Won't happen again, ma'am. I'll always remember from now on."
I didn't say a word. I turned and went back into the bathroom.
As the steam slowly cleared, two pairs of handprints surfaced on the glass shower door, one over the other.
One large pair, one small. The fingertips of the small pair sat a good few inches below where mine would reach.
And caught in the drain was a single strand of hair—long, straight, black, glossy as satin.
My hair is short and honey-blond.
Credit where it's due: they'd gotten creative.
Swallowing the nausea rising in my throat, I took a photo and sent it to my cousin Riley. She was a senior at West Point, majoring in cybersecurity.
Long straight black hair. About 5'1".
Find her and I'll give you five thousand dollars.
She answered in seconds:
On it. Let's see who this little home-wrecker is.

King Lorenzo spent fifteen years dreaming of one thing.

Revenge.

After watching his family slaughtered, his country stolen, and his people enslaved, he escaped with one promise burning in his heart: one day, he would make the monster who destroyed his life pay for every drop of blood that had been spilled.

And he did. Lorenzo murdered the devil and reclaimed the throne.

Only one person remained.

Princess Daisy.

The spoiled, untouchable daughter of the man who ruined everything.

Now stripped of her crown and held captive inside the very palace that once belonged to Lorenzo’s family, Daisy becomes the living reminder of a past he can’t forget. Every scar on his body carries her father’s name. Every nightmare ends with the same vow:
She will pay.

But revenge isn’t as simple as he imagined.

The more Lorenzo tries to break the princess, the more he begins to see the frightened woman hiding beneath the crown she never asked to wear. And Daisy soon realizes the ruthless king holding her captive isn’t the monster she was raised to believe he was.

In a kingdom built on blood, hatred is easy.
Falling for the enemy is the real danger.

He wants revenge. She wants freedom. Neither of them is prepared for what happens when hate turns into obsession.

By an accident, she became the glamorous daughter of Ocean family. When the real daughter comes back, she, as the false daughter, she neatly leaves this time. After being bullied by them, she decides to take what was taken from her past life and holds it firmly in her own hands. Dealing the bitch, kicking cheating philandering men, then goes to the top. She thought she would be alone all the time, but she never thought there is lifetime love awaiting for her...

Kadia Fenn works three jobs, can barely make rent, and wants nothing to do with the family business.
The family business is killing monsters.
Twenty-five years ago, Clan Fenn was disgraced for the murder of a vampire lord and his wife. Kadia walked away from the stakes, the oaths, and the shame. All she kept was a rune necklace she can't bring herself to take off.
Then a vampire breaks down her apartment door.
Levi Baron is two hundred years old. He rules Harwick's underworld, and has spent a quarter century believing her family slaughtered his. He should hate her. He shouldn't want her. He definitely shouldn't keep protecting her.
Someone is poisoning Harwick's supernaturals. Someone wants Levi dead. And the closer Kadia gets to the truth about the night her clan fell, the harder it is to stay out of the fight she was born for.
Because the only thing more dangerous than a vampire who wants her blood is one who refuses to take it.

My wolf was damaged the day I first shifted, when I was ten. I’ve healed slower than other wolves ever since, and a wolf like that can’t inherit a pack.

I grew up mocked and bullied for being the weak one.

My sister, Seraphina, shifted on the same day and came through it perfectly. She became the Alpha heir, the prodigy my parents poured everything into.

I thought they loved her more because she could carry the pack and I couldn’t. I took a rabid bear’s claws for her at thirteen. I was her sparring partner by day and her tutor by night, and I learned not to argue.

When Seraphina was accepted to the Royal Wolf Academy, the whole estate celebrated. My parents were going to escort her there themselves in a bulletproof Cadillac. But nobody cared that I’d been accepted to a college a thousand miles from home.

And today was the day I was leaving for school, too.

When I asked whether I should leave for the airport, my father told me to figure it out myself. My mother told me to clean up after my sister's party first.

I was done waiting for them to care. I decided to let them be the perfect family of three.

I already had a one-way ticket on my phone. By tonight, I would be gone from their lives.

"You useless thing."
My husband Cassian stared at me coldly. "I thought marrying a Costa daughter would get me something, but it turns out to be nothing. And your sister, on the contrary, has become the family heir."
With that, he wrenched off our wedding ring and smashed it violently onto the ground.
"I should have chosen her in the first place, not you." Those were his final words to me.
In my previous life, I was an unrecognized illegitimate daughter of a mafia family. I obediently accepted the arranged marriage, bared my heart to my hypocritical relatives, and believed wholeheartedly in my husband's promises.
But in the end, all I got was the iron chains of the dungeon, dying with eternal regret and the unresolved truth behind my mother's tragic death. My mother and I were nothing but stepping stones in their power struggle.
Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was back three weeks after my mother's passing — at the engagement scene that decided my entire fate.
This time, I'll make every single one of them understand: they made the wrong choice!

“Mr. Hale, step away from the chest.”

The officer’s hand stayed on the latch beneath my brother’s portrait.

My mother clutched the donation envelopes to her chest. “Lena is doing this for attention.”

Dad gave the room his lawyer smile. “My daughter hides when she wants sympathy.”

The volunteer pointed at the broken white ribbon. “Then why is there blood on it?”

The room went quiet.

I stood beside them, dead and barefoot, watching Dad’s face change.

Because for once, someone was about to open the place where they had left me.

My name is Damian Lemaître.

In my past life, I was Serafina Camarilla's lapdog for ten years, being drained of my life, used, and squeezed dry of my last bit of value.

I opened my eyes and found myself back at the scene of the blood pact ceremony. She sat on the high seat, waiting for me to kneel down and swear the oath with the same excitement as in my previous life.

"Damian Flamel, are you willing?"

"No."

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.

Five years ago, Maya Vale came to a gala with a pregnancy test hidden in her clutch, ready to tell her billionaire husband, Adrian Cross, that they might finally have a child.

Instead, Adrian stood silent while his powerful family accused her of leaking pediatric records, stripped her of her work, and pushed her out of the marriage that should have protected her. Maya left with one secret and one rule: no one from the Cross family would ever get quiet access to her child.

Five years later, Maya returns as the founder of ValeCare and the mother of Lily, the daughter Adrian never knew existed. She did not come back to be claimed. She came back with rules, boundaries, and a life built far away from the Cross name.

But when Adrian sees Lily, the truth breaks open. His regret is immediate, but Maya refuses to let guilt become possession. As old accusations resurface and the Cross family reaches for Lily through schools, headlines, and family pressure, Maya must protect her daughter while forcing Adrian to face the truth he once refused to defend.

Can a man who erased his pregnant wife ever earn the right to stand beside her again?

"Mr. Wolfe's daughter needs a live-in caretaker. You will handle her meals, her studies and her daily supervision."
"Wait… a nanny?"
"Not just a nanny. A live-in housekeeper and companion. Full access. Housing, transport and excellent pay."
I blinked. "How excellent?"
"Six figures annually," Dana replied.
Rennie Brooks was not looking for a miracle. She only wanted to survive. With one hundred and two dollars in her account, an empty fridge and no one left to rely on, she never expected a desperate phone call to lead her into the estate of billionaire Shawn Wolfe. He is powerful, distant and impossible to read. Years of heartbreak and a toxic past with his ex-wife have turned him into a man who trusts no one. His daughter, Diane, is known for chasing away every nanny who steps through the door.
Until Rennie arrives.
From the moment she enters the Wolfe mansion, everything begins to shift. The cold silence softens. Diane attaches herself to Rennie with surprising devotion. The staff breathe easier. And Shawn, who once believed his heart was permanently locked, starts to feel something he has not felt in years.
To everyone else, Rennie is simply the hired help.
Behind closed doors, the truth is very different. Their connection grows in quiet moments and lingering glances. It is forbidden, risky and too intense to ignore.
He is her employer.
She lives under his roof.
No one, not even his daughter, can know what is happening between them.
But some feelings refuse to stay hidden.
They rise, they consume and they change the course of every life they touch.
Sometimes love does not wait for permission.
Sometimes it enters without warning and refuses to leave.

Two years ago, I woke up in the pack infirmary with zero memories. Alpha Kendrick and Luna Elspeth—the people I thought were my parents—announced to the pack that I was a rogue imposter who had stolen their true daughter’s identity.
My punishment? A $1,000,000 debt for my upbringing. And a permanent lesson.
Elspeth pried my jaw open and forced liquid wolfsbane down my throat. The poison rooted in my veins, kept dormant only by a monthly antidote. Miss one dose, and it would eat me alive.
Trapped and indebted, I kept my head down. I worked the grueling patrols and took every blame for Sylvia, their "real" daughter.
Until I overheard them at the old boathouse.
"What if she remembers?" Sylvia trembled.
Kendrick scoffed. "So what? Without the antidote, the wolfsbane will tear her apart."
Something in my mind snapped. Sealed memories flooded back like shattered glass.
I wasn't the imposter. I was their true daughter, the born Seer. They just thought I was too wild to control, so they replaced me with Sylvia.
But a Seer’s birthright isn't theirs to give away.

They left me to die in a burning lab while saving my faker sister. Big mistake.

I hadn't slept in six months, perfecting the neural serum that would save Mom's life. One vial. One chance. Then my adopted sister Mia grabbed it and smashed it on the floor, sobbing about how cruel I was to a "disabled" person.

Mom and Dad ate it up. My fiancé Ryan nodded along—probably because he was banging Mia every chance he got. When fire trapped me in the lab, they carried out "paralyzed" Mia and left me hammering on reinforced glass, choking on smoke.

Want to know the best part? That manipulative snake hopped out of her wheelchair and sprinted to safety the second she thought no one was looking.

Second chance at life? Hell yes.

I'm watching Mia lift that test tube again, ready to destroy everything. But instead of lunging forward like last time, I lean back in my chair.

"Smash away," I say with a shrug. "I'm not the one who'll suffer."

Let's see how this plays out when I'm not the naive fool.

⚠MATURE READERS ONLY
I hated him with every fibre of my being. I wanted to take a steak knife and carve his smug, handsome face off. But what I hated most — what made me want to scream into the pillows — was that my body still remembered him.
And God help me, I was so fucking angry that I wanted him to walk through that door right now, just so I could tear him apart with my bare hands.
❖ ❖ ❖
I ran from the monster who sold me to the highest bidder. I didn’t know I was running straight into the arms of another.
For eight months, I buried my past in the quiet suburbs, pretending to be an ordinary innocent, untouched woman. I believed I had escaped the blood-soaked empire I was born into. Then Kaelith Vespero, the ruthless Don of the Vespero Syndicate and my father's deadliest enemy, who saw me as a bargaining chip, dragged me back into the underworld.
I realized my freedom was just a borrowed illusion.
But wars don't always go according to plan.
⚠IMPORTANT — PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU BEGIN ⚠
Before you begin this story, there are a few things I want you to know about what you are about to read. This is a dark romance, and some of the themes and situations in this book may not be for everyone. Please read with an open mind and at your own discretion.
I. This is a dark mafia romance recommended for readers 18 and older. If dark romance is not your cup of tea, please do not force yourself to read it. You have been warned.
II. Expect slow-burn sexual tension throughout the story. The romance is meant to build gradually, so patience will definitely be required.
III. The story contains strong language and carries a gritty, intense, and unapologetic atmosphere.
IV. Reader discretion is advised. This story explores kidnapping, captivity, coercion, family betrayal, emotional abuse, and other difficult situations. If any of these themes are a hard limit for you, please protect your peace and skip this one. There is absolutely no shame in knowing what you can and cannot handle.
One last thing before you continue: I am always open to constructive criticism, however, personal attacks, hateful comments, insults toward me or other readers, and disrespectful comments will not be tolerated.
So, if you're ready for everything waiting inside these pages...
Buckle up.
You've been warned.

Amber was raped by her uncle.

She was an orphan. Her parents died in a road accident.

She was later taken to her grandmother. One day she went to a party.

There she met a rich pervert.

He tried to sexually abuse her there.

Later he forced her to marry him and she had to, due to certain family conditions.

There too rape torturers didn't end for amber.

They both used to hate each other.

Will they ever fall in love or this will end up only being a rape story.....

Let's see.....

Elena Wakefield has spent three years trapped in a one-sided relationship with Emmanuel Mitchell—a man who loves her sister, but uses her body. After countless heartbreaks and three forced abortions, she's pregnant again… and desperate to keep the baby. But when Emmanuel demands she get rid of it—for Lilith's sake—Elena realizes she's never truly mattered.
What begins as quiet endurance spirals into betrayal, manipulation, and bloodshed. Lilith, the perfect daughter and Emmanuel's beloved, returns not just to reclaim her place—but to destroy Elena piece by piece.
When Elena loses everything—her child, her dignity, her future—there's nothing left to fear. And when they come for her kidney to save Lilith, she finally says no.
This time, Elena won't beg.
She won't kneel.
She'll make them bleed.

It was graduation photo day at Silvermoon Academy, and everyone was streaming toward the main square.
I fumbled my way to Kyle's side, and someone started laughing immediately.
"Look, our future Alpha and his little Omega, together again!"
"They've been inseparable since they were kids — just bond already!"
I'd heard these jokes a thousand times.
But every time, my heart still skipped a beat.
Kyle didn't respond.
Then the photographer raised his camera, and the pack around us chanted in unison. That was when I heard him mutter, low and flat,
"Annoying. Can't she just stay away from me?"
As a werewolf born with weak eyesight, I'd long since learned to read everything around me with my ears.
So there was no way I'd misheard.
After the shoot, I stood there for a long moment before I finally left.
As I passed the academy's notice board, I reached out and tore down the application form.
The one for the advanced academy Kyle and I had agreed to attend together.
I crumpled it in my palm and threw it in the trash.

"I fell in love with a stranger. I didn't know he was my brother."
When I first saw Victor, I didn't see a sibling. I saw a man who set my skin on fire. I saw a pair of dark eyes that reflected my own soul. Our attraction wasn't just a choice—it was a gravity I couldn't escape. For weeks, we existed in a fever dream of late nights and whispered promises, building a future on a foundation I never knew was forbidden.
Then the truth came out. One old photograph, a single name, and my world shattered.
Now, the touch that felt like heaven feels like a sin. But how do you stop your heart from beating for the one person you were never supposed to touch?

In my past life, I signed a marriage agreement, served as a live-in son-in-law for five years, and died in a hospital. Meanwhile, my "wife," Grace, was on the moon, embracing her lover and watching the star rings.
Given a second chance, she threw the agreement in my face at the marriage summit: "Sign it. After the wedding, I'll go find Karl. You'd better act like the legal wife."
I didn't refuse; I just tossed the agreement to my emotional nemesis .
The whole city laughed at my madness.
Until Grace flaunted her "pure-blood heir" at the 100-day celebration, I publicly projected her sterilization report—
the bastard in her arms was the product of her lover and a downtown prostitute.
And her lover was being mutilated in the downtown area.
In this life, I'm not a live-in son-in-law; I'm her gravedigger.

On the day of my final interview for the Yale scholarship, my childhood best friend, Carter, handed me a carton of chocolate milk.
I drank every drop, touched that he’d remembered. When I woke up, the hair I’d been growing for ten years was scattered all over the floor.
The prettiest girl in school twirled her scissors and smiled at him. “Your mom’s sleeping pills work great. I practically shaved the pig bald.”
He leaned against the doorframe, his voice flat. “It’s not like you were ever pretty anyway.”
When I was eight, he promised to marry me once my hair reached my waist.
That day, I dried my tears and gave back the ring his grandmother had saved for “Carter’s bride.”
Later, he waited outside his Yale dorm all day, only to learn that I’d gone to Stanford, three thousand miles away.

A hundred years ago, I was the strongest Delta the Silver Moon Pack had ever produced.

Born with the God Bone, unmatched in power, I had Royal Guard recruiters showing up at my door three times, waiting for me to say yes. The whole pack assumed I'd lead them to glory.

Then came that night. My own family dragged me to the altar in the frozen vault.

My mother cried and said, "Lacey was born broken. Without the God Bone, she'll die."

"You're the older sister. You're strong. You'll survive without it."

I refused.

Grant, my fiancé, pulled the knife on me. Brandon, my brother, pinned down my arms and legs. My parents watched from the shadows, saying nothing.

"Don't be so selfish."

They carved the God Bone out of my body, drained every drop of my heart's blood, and threw me into a vault fifty degrees below zero.

My sister took everything that was mine and became the golden girl everyone adored.

A hundred years passed. I became the Supreme Commander of the Royal Guard.

This year, during recruitment, my adjutant handed me the candidate list. I saw a familiar name and smiled. I picked up my pen and crossed it out.

"Doesn't meet the requirements. Denied."

On the night before my sister's bone marrow transplant, my parents confiscated my EpiPen and locked me in the attic.

Their "genetic consultant" warned them that the medication would contaminate the stem cells meant for my sister.

I had eaten the meal they provided—one secretly laced with lethal traces of nuts.

The resulting anaphylactic swelling was suffocating me completely.

I frantically bashed my head against the door. "My pen... Mom, I can't breathe..."

"Stop putting on a show!" Mom snapped through the wood. "That meal was entirely nut-free! Are you faking an allergic reaction just because you can't stand the thought of your sister finally getting well?"

Her footsteps retreated.

Agonizing pain and oxygen deprivation overtook me as I clawed at the floor until every one of my nails snapped off.

Until my breathing stopped completely.

I mined in a medieval pit, lived on moldy black bread, with whip scars across my back and iron chains around my ankles. The lord treated us like livestock.

I thought that was simply how the world worked—until I forced open a hidden passage and crawled into a white corridor that should not have existed: cold fluorescent lights, metal doors, surveillance cameras, as if the skin of the age had been ripped away in an instant.

That was when I understood: the Middle Ages were only a set, everyone around me was acting, and I was nothing more than a toy for the amusement of the rich.

They cloned the real-life rivals they could never defeat, threw them into different “scenarios,” and tortured them for pleasure.

They thought they could keep me in the dark forever.

What they don’t know is that I’m ready to get out—and tear this entire human-toy industry out by the roots.

At a lavish dinner, a billionaire with a net worth of four billion embraced my ex-wife and slapped five thousand yuan in my face: "Kneel down, kiss her shoes, and then get out of here."
The entire audience of celebrities burst into laughter, while the ex-wife's eyes were filled with the pleasure of revenge.
Without even lifting my eyelids, I dialed a number in front of everyone: "I'm going to bankrupt one person. Execution level: nuclear bomb."
They laughed at me for pretending to be crazy.
Three minutes later, the entire nation was in an uproar. Four billion dollars in assets were frozen, the FBI broke down the door, and the once arrogant tycoon collapsed to the ground like a dog.
I endured for three years, just to save her grandfather's life. Since she's in such a hurry to break the contract, I don't need to pretend anymore.
This is not just a story about divorce; it's a countdown to the gods regaining control of the Book of Life and Death on Earth.

In my past life, my brother-in-law predicted the coming of an extreme cold apocalypse and claimed he would awaken a spatial ability on the day it arrived.
I didn't believe him, but under pressure from my wife's family, I purchased supplies anyway. Then the frozen apocalypse actually came.
I thought we'd survive together as a family, but my brother-in-law had bragged about his spatial ability and massive supplies before awakening. When his ability manifested, the space was pitifully small, and everyone he'd told came to rob us.
When food ran out, my wife's family turned on me, killing and eating me.
Reborn, I've decided to take revenge on my wife's entire family. And it all starts with secretly building my own shelter.

On the seventh wedding anniversary, I woke up in the lounge and found a big word "BITCH" sprayed with red paint on my chest.
The culprit, holding a spray-paint can, had a naive-looking smile on her face and said, "I'm doing you a favor. Your white outfit's way too boring."
I was just about to take action when my husband rushed in to protect her, frowning and scolding me: "She's just a little girl; she doesn't know any better. Do you have to be so petty?"
At this moment, looking at the man in front of me who had risen because of my family's influence, I suddenly laughed.
He probably forgot who had given him this overwhelming wealth.
I unscrewed the red-tipped thick paint pen and walked step by step towards the trembling girl.
"Your face is boring, too. Let me do you a favor."
As for my husband?
I'll make him know that without me, he's worse than a dog.

I’m a convenience store owner.

When the acid rain apocalypse hit, it ate through metal, wrecked power, and turned clean food and water into currency.

Last time, I made one mistake: I opened my door to my ex, Claire Voss, and her lover, Derek Hale. They didn’t come for shelter—they came for my stash. The blade in my abdomen taught me what mercy buys in a broken world. I killed them, but as my vision faded, the radio crackled with one final update: the disaster was ending.

Day thirty. I didn’t live to see morning.

Then I woke up—one week before it began.

This time I do only one thing: lock myself in my underground storage room with exactly thirty days of food and water, and wait for the rain to stop.

But Claire is hoarding again, louder than ever—embezzling money, emptying my shelves, trying to starve me in the first week so I’ll crawl back begging.

That’s when it hits me:

She thinks the apocalypse lasts forever.

She has no idea it only lasts thirty days.

While I was being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in the horse stable of our own family farm, my all-powerful chaebol fiancée was helping my green tea younger brother try on wedding attire.
Before dying, with my broken, blood-stained finger, I dialed the last desperate call for help.
On the other end of the phone, her tone was filled with scorn and impatience: "Vincent, can't you even tolerate a little grievance from your younger brother? Let's just cancel the engagement, and I'll replace you with him as the groom."
Later, I truly died.
My soul drifted in mid-air, watching coldly as the whole family thought I was faking death to make a scene. My older sister even kicked over my disfigured body on the haystack in disgust: "Get up right now, stop pretending to be pitiful here!"
Until the flashlight's beam completely illuminated my ghastly, rigid face, and the shattered phone screen, still stuck on the moment she hung up, clutched tightly in my dead hand...
That forever aloof, arrogant female CEO finally went weak in the knees, kneeling in the foul-smelling, blood-soaked filth, and utterly lost her mind.

For Joey, I shouldered the blame for a commercial crime and survived five years behind bars—alone, even through a miscarriage.

With only five days left on my sentence, his secretary flaunted a “bonus” transfer from him—521,314—and when I left one mild comment, she blocked me.

I got released early on Christmas, wanting to surprise my husband. Instead, I pushed open our bedroom door and found Joey and Betty in our marital bed, deep in their sick little games.

And then I overheard a phone call that shattered everything: my little sister, Sansa, hadn’t died from a surgical “accident” at all. Joey had bribed the surgeon and had her heart cut out—so his mistress could gain a werewolf’s healing ability and keep having some perverted sex on bed.

He lied to me, used me, murdered my sister—and still mocked me for I was nothing without him.

Six years ago, Marlowe Kestrel drowned in the Duskhaven canals, or at least that is what the obituary said, what the empty coffin implied, and what every ruling House in the city has believed ever since.

In reality she swam two streets over, bribed a mortician with a forged signature, and built herself a new, gloriously unremarkable life as a small time magical forger who fixes other people's problems for coin and never, ever asks about bloodlines. It was a good plan.

It worked for six entire years, which is roughly five years and eleven months longer than anyone expected a Kestrel to survive in hiding. Then Jonas, the only man alive who knew her real name, turns up dead in his own workshop with a mark burned into his palm that Marlowe has spent her whole life trying to forget she carries too, and the only lead worth following belongs to Cassian Draven, heir to the most feared criminal House in the city, a man with a smile like a drawn blade and a family reputation built on making problems disappear as thoroughly as Marlowe once did herself.

Cassian recognizes her in under a minute, does not turn her in, and instead offers a deal she has no good reason to accept and every practical reason to take, pose as his fiancée at the season's summit of ruling Houses, help him smoke out whoever is hunting them both, and maybe, if she is very lucky and very careful, walk away with her second fake death arranged before anyone notices the first one was fake too.

The trouble is, the longer she spends pretending to love a Draven, the harder it gets to remember that hating him was ever supposed to be the easy part.