1795 Book(s) Related to relentless: from good to great to unstoppable

After Martina Martinez and Benjamin Walker's breakup, paparazzi captured photos of the business tycoon entering the Walker family mansion with a mysterious woman late at night.

This caused a stir, and this wealthy family was bombarded by various media outlets.

During a phone interview, the gossip reporter asked, "Miss Martinez, how do you feel now that Mr. Walker has a new girlfriend?"

Martina held her painful forehead and looked towards Benjamin, who was adjusting his suit by the floor-to-ceiling window. He gestured for her to come over and help him with his tie.

Holding her phone, Martina responded, "It's... complicated!"

The reporter's heart leaped with joy and asked, "Is it heartbroken?!"

Martina was about to nod, but Benjamin raised his eyebrows and took her phone away.

His deep and alluring voice was heard on the other end of the line, "New girlfriend? Whose?"

Harper spent ten years as Joel's perfect girlfriend... until he dumped her to boost his brand. Now Joel's getting married, and Harper's crashing his wedding on the arm of Crew Lawson, the one player Joel hates most. It's supposed to be fake: three months of PR revenge. But Crew's hiding a dangerous addiction, Harper's hiding real feelings, and Joel's hiding the truth about why he really left. Some fake relationships burn too hot to stay pretending.

He grabbed my hair and dragged me downstairs. His grip on my hands and feet ached terribly. I sobbed and wept, silent tears streaming down my face. I was powerless to break free, my left hand clutching my broken right wrist.

He was a beast inhabiting this mansion, inflicting inhuman torture on my poor soul. He had created a living hell for me, this pitiful girl, within his castle.

On this cold winter night, he threw my wounded body into the icy pool, arrogantly enjoying it all, drinking and smoking expensive cigars. A satisfied, cold smile played on his lips as he reveled in my pain. His face was filled with the darkness of sin.

“How...more...am I…still…standing?” I stammered, my lips trembling.

Zain paused, thinking. Then, turning away from her, he replied:

“Until you die!”

With that, he left. As he wished. At that moment, my wish came true; I died.

But not in a frozen pool; I was struck in the head by a bullet from afar, blood splattering everywhere—that was far more gruesome.

My consciousness began to fade, but suddenly, I opened my eyes again and found myself mopping the floor in an ordinary restaurant.

I was startled: What happened? I was reborn? This is unbelievable!

At thirty-five, I finally die— only to wake up as Isabella Montague, the stunning heroine of a fantasy novel I wrote as a stupid teen.

My plan? A world-class retirement involving heavy naps and bottomless snacks.

But the 'perfect' men I created are ruining the plan.

The brooding Northern Duke won't stop watching me. The Golden Prince is convinced my disinterest is actually a challenge. My knight—and best friend—is ready to burn the world down if I so much as yawn. And a certain Elven noble who swore off humans keeps finding excuses to be near my tea.

They want my heart. I just want my pillow.

Too bad the world is cursed, the Queen wants me dead, and everyone keeps trying to put me on a throne I never asked for.

Can't a girl just chill?

Lydia's POV

"The patient in Bed 7 has been here three months now, right? Not a single family visit."

"Her husband just pays the bills and leaves. Doesn't even look at her. Poor thing."

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to two nurses whispering outside my door. My fingers rested weakly against the edge of the mattress.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.

My husband, Sebastian Carter, came once. He stood in the doorway—didn't step inside—signed the papers with a blank expression, and never came back.

Sebastian was a writer. He locked himself in his study all day, leaving me to spend night after night alone in the living room. We lived under the same roof like strangers from different worlds.

I'd grown used to this hollow marriage. I didn't even bother calling him anymore.

Footsteps echoed outside.

I turned my head toward the door. Sebastian stood there in his familiar charcoal coat, his face expressionless.

"You came." I was surprised. I forced myself to sit up, my body weak and trembling.

Sebastian didn't answer. He walked straight to the bedside and set a document on the nightstand. "Sign it."

I picked it up. The words at the top read: 'Divorce Agreement.'

The apocalypse arrives, rain stops worldwide, outdoor temperatures soar to 60 degrees Celsius, and everyone fights and loses their humanity over a single drop of water.
But I gave away dozens of cases of bottled water that I had stockpiled at home to my neighbors downstairs for free.
People laughed at my overflowing compassion; my wicked ex even hoarded two tons of water, waiting to see me thirsty and begging her on my knees like a dog.
But what they didn't know was that I didn't need water at all.
Because I'm not human.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

My Husband Died to Join Me I begged him to see me. He didn't. He believed her. Every word. I died in my bedroom. When I woke up, no one could see me anymore. She stole my husband. My home. My son. Then she painted me as insane. Everyone believed I was the monster. But there was a hidden camera. When he finally saw the footage, he broke. He avenged me. Then he made one last promise. This time, he came to find me.

"Enough, Serafina! The thing rigged to the parasail is just a mannequin. It's not your mother! Cut the damn act!"

I watched helplessly as my severely ill mother plummeted from hundreds of feet in the air, smashing into the bone-chilling ocean.

My husband was holding my stepsister, a doting smile playing on his lips.

My own biological son clapped his hands in glee—because he was the one who had blindly pushed the release button.

They all said I was faking it. They said I was vicious, toxic, and jealous.

It wasn't until I erased every last trace of my existence and vanished entirely from their lives that they dug through the wreckage of our past like madmen, desperate to find me.

When my family went bankrupt, my fiancé teamed up with my best friend and sold me to an underground club to pay off their debts.
To secure an investment, that scumbag handed me over to the most powerful kingmaker on Wall Street.
But the moment the call connected, I froze.
The big shot my cheating ex was groveling to was actually my first love—the man I dumped five years ago because he was poor.
Looking at the smug jerk who still had no idea who he was dealing with, I let out a cold laugh.
A deadly revenge game had just begun.

Here is an adaptation crafted in the style of a bestselling contemporary Western psychological thriller or domestic drama hook, using fast-paced, high-tension American English:

For three years, I was the envy of Manhattan’s elite—the untouchable heiress with the flawless life.

My husband? The media constantly fawned over him, dubbing him "God’s gift to women" and the absolute epitome of a perfect gentleman.

Then came the video. The damn video that shattered it all.

Kneeling on the floor, wearing a thick leather collar like a pathetic stray, was the man I had loved deeply for years.

At the other end of the leash stood another woman, the stiletto of her red-soled Louboutin pressing ruthlessly into his cheek.

"Tell me, what are you?" she demanded.

"I'm Mistress Elena's dog," he whimpered. "I just want to get away from Sienna... I'm so sick of that suffocating bitch."

Every vow, every promise we ever made, instantly dissolved into a sick, twisted joke.

But instead of breaking down, I just smiled. And I hit save.

If he wanted to act like a dog so badly, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I was going to make sure he choked on that damn leash.

Nine months pregnant and about to give birth, my husband Zane locked me in the wine cellar.
All because his widowed business partner, Elena, was also giving birth today.
"You almost made Elena go into labor early. You need to think about what you've done."
Agonizing contractions wracked my body. I dropped to my knees, begging him, "Zane, please─the baby is coming now! He will die!"
He just shoved me down the cold stone steps, his eyes icy cold.
"Stop lying! Your due date isn't today. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"
"Tonight, only Elena's safety matters. You'll stay here until you admit you were wrong!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, snuffing out the last bit of hope I had left.
Hours later, Zane was cradling Elena's newborn son, calling the maid.
"Elena had a boy. I couldn't be happier. Let my wife out—I'm willing to forgive her little tantrum today."
But on the other end of the phone, the maid was sobbing.
"Sir... your wife and the baby... they're already gone."

"Let Aria have the Stanford recommendation. Quinn owes her."
I stared at the family group chat—the one I wasn't in—and let out a cold laugh.
In my past life, I went completely hysterical over this, only to earn my family's disgust and a miserable death.
Now, reborn and given a second chance, I looked at the room full of guests celebrating My success, and walked straight to the microphone.
"Everyone, the party is over. I'm turning down the Stanford spot."
Under my family's stunned gazes, I dumped my champagne into the trash bin.
This rotten family? I'm done with them.

I never asked to be special. I just wanted to survive.

When I got the scholarship to Caldera Academy, I thought it was my ticket out of a life of scraping by on the mainland. My magic was weak, messy, and hard to control, but they told me the Covenant Ritual would fix that. They told me I’d bond with a creature, balance my power, and finally belong.

They lied.

I didn't get a beautiful, glowing stallion or a friendly wind-hound. I bonded with Vesper—a shadow-manticore, a creature the world swore was extinct because they were too dangerous to live. Suddenly, I wasn't just a charity case anymore. I was a target.

Now, my roommate has gone missing, the teachers are covering it up, and the golden-boy warden, Julian Sterling, is watching my every move. But I’m not running. I’ve spent my whole life being afraid, and I’m done with it. If this school wants to treat me like a monster, I’ll show them exactly what a monster can do.

It's the year 2063 and the whole world stood in fear awaiting the impact of the approaching comet which scientist believed its impact will have significant changes in the whole world.
Simultaneously, another strange signal was discovered transmitting from one remote village in Nigeria; a democratic republic located in West Africa.
The special America intelligence unit quickly arranged a three men squad to visit the area and find out what is transmitting and it's connection with the approaching comet. On landing at the venue some hours later, the squad were amazed to discover that the only object of reverence on the location was a Scepter that was believed belong to a mythological Demigod.

The sect of aliens known as the hurras invaded the earth with the aim of destroying humanity for there atrocities against mother earth. To them , human are destroying a place that have been existing even before they were created. Through pollution, deforestation, hatred and bloodshed, human seemed to be moving towards self destruction, they are here to make it quick. There first mission is to destroy the Scepter

I was supposed to die alone in an alley.

Instead, a god found me.

One moment, I was bleeding beneath the neon glow of the city, my life slipping through my fingers. The next, a glowing blue screen appeared before my eyes, offering me a choice that was never really a choice at all.

Accept the Summoner’s Mark. Or die.

Now I belong to the Death Game — a brutal cosmic system where ordinary people are turned into Players, thrown into impossible missions, and forced to survive horrors designed for the amusement of gods.

Every trial has rules.
Every monster has a weakness.
Every victory comes with a reward.

And every reward makes me less human.

My name is Nerissa Valehart, and I refuse to be anyone’s pawn.

But surviving the Game means trusting the one man everyone warns me to fear.

Veyren Ashford is ruthless, powerful, and dangerously beautiful — a veteran Player with blood on his hands and secrets in his soul. He says attachment will get me killed. He says love is a weakness the Game always punishes.

Yet when death comes for me, Veyren is the one standing between us.

In a world where gods gamble with mortal lives, monsters hunt from the shadows, and desire may be the deadliest weakness of all, I have only one goal:

Survive long enough to cross the board.

And make the Starless God regret choosing me..............

Pawn of the Unwritten God
Ren Ashford was never meant to be chosen.
One moment, he was ordinary. The next, reality fractured, and a message rewrote his existence:
[YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED.]
Dragged into a deadly System governed by an unseen, god-like force, Ren is forced to survive brutal trials where failure means erasure, not just death, but complete removal from existence. In this Game, Players hunt, betray, and evolve… all for the promise of power.
But Ren is different.
The System glitches around him.
The rules don’t fully apply to him.
And the deeper he goes, the more the Game begins to break.
As he fights through nightmarish worlds, shifting realities, and enemies that should not exist, Ren uncovers a truth far more terrifying than death:
The Game was never designed to be won.
It was designed to observe.
And something beyond the System, the Unwritten God, is watching closely… waiting for him to become something more than a pawn.
Because if Ren keeps surviving, keeps evolving, keeps breaking the rules,
He may become the only thing the Game cannot control.
Or the very thing it was created to find.

Introduction: Monsters have invaded the world, and humanity is in grave danger. I transformed into a demon-sealing war god, guarding the abyss for twenty years. But I was met with betrayal after betrayal; my position as war god was revoked, and the people, believing rumors, sought to punish me. They smashed my wife's tombstone, turned my son into a monster , and drained my blood... Now the monsters have returned, kneeling and weeping, begging me to intervene . This time, I will not intervene!

My first love was Liam— a powerful Alpha who swore he would claim me when the Blood Moon rose. Beneath the sacred crimson light, I believed the Moon Goddess would bind our destinies together.
But the night that was meant to mark the beginning of my happiness turned into my ruin.
In front of the entire pack, Liam did not claim me.
He chose my stepsister.

Maya Adams has a type…

Anyone who isn’t Hunter Callum.

To the rest of the world, he’s the God of Hockey..a cold, arrogant, shirtless-on-every-billboard legend.

To Maya, he’s the prude, stuck-up asshole who just got her suspended from her dream job at a top New York publishing firm.

When a drunken night of trash-talking Hunter at a club ends in a bloody brawl and a viral scandal, Maya wakes up in the one place she never thought she’d be…Hunter’s penthouse.

Now, his agent is offering her a deal she can’t afford to refuse

Play the part of the doting, supportive girlfriend for five months.

Curb the temper of the league's most volatile player.

Walk away with $3.5 million and her career back.

The rules are simple: keep it professional in private and convincing in public. But as the "God of Hockey" starts showing Maya a side of himself the cameras never see, the lines between their contract and their chemistry begin to blur.

Maya is supposed to be faking it. But Hunter? He stopped playing a game the moment he laid eyes on her.

Falling for the enemy wasn't in the contract. But obsessed gods don't play by the rules.

High-school misfit Julian fell in over his head into a relationship doomed for dysfunction. When the love of your life turns out to be a polyamorous vampire, eternity together is bound to be a messy rollercoaster, but even after all the trauma and heartbreak, this one of a kind devil still holds his heart. If only Luc shared his devotion... He certainly shares his obsession.

“Your girlfriend’s pretty cynical, now isn’t she?” Luc speaks into my ear, leaning casually on my shoulder. I blush bright red, and his smile grows all the broader.
He takes both our hands and leads us off across the dance floor, and the crowd parts for him like he’s the King of England - the bouncers steering away anyone that tries to block us.
“Holy shit. You really are the owner?!” Heather drunkenly shouts, as we make our way up the stairs and into that VIP booth.
“My club and my right to lay claim to anyone who catches my eye,” Luc drawls, and I shoot him a look, shifting my weight to get in between him and Heather.
“Look, you can’t just… I mean, thanks for the drinks, but she is not going to…” God I sound like an idiot, and staring straight in Luc’s eyes I feel more than a little intimidated, especially because he is not intimidated by me whatsoever. He’s smiling like I’ve just gifted him a shiny new present. I turn to tell Heather we should go, and Luc catches my arm.
“I wasn’t trying to steal away your date,” he laughs. “I invited the both of you here, now didn’t I?” He pushes a hand through Heather’s hair, turning boldly to face her dreamy eyed gawking. “You ever had a three way?”

The folder slid across the table toward Hannah's husband. Sign here. Family helps family.

What the Whitfields never once thought to wonder was that the quiet daughter-in-law they'd spent four years bleeding had almost three million dollars they couldn't see.

She'd hidden it for one reason: to keep the only good man in that family from being turned into their wallet.

Now they wanted his signature. His house. His name on their debt.

They had spent a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

They were about to learn what that costs.

I sacrificed ten years of my life in prison for Alaric. I burned my hand in a raging fire, just to save our four-year-old son.
Yet the family I saved abandoned me. My husband favored his scheming stepmother. My own son called me dirty, rejecting his birth mother. To humiliate me, Alaric even bet half a million on my dignity.
Tired of endless humiliation, I chose to leave the cold father and son who broke me completely.
Just as I fell into despair, my childhood sweetheart—now a powerful CEO—returned. He swore to guard me closely, making up for all the warmth I had lost.

A time of ancient ignorance. Humans did not yet exist, the ancestors of the elves were still trolls, and the titans ruled the earth and the dragons ruled the skies. At the end of the Age, the Titans and Dragons fought and lost. At this time, a traveler descended on a tribe of Hawkmen, leading them gradually out of their own evolutionary path, and eventually became a tribe of angels. Countless years later. The King of Angels, the Lord of Judgment, Jiang You, was on the throne of heaven. Endless beings sang in unison: 'Holy! Holy! Sinners can't look upon the majesty and glory of God. Each one is crowned with a crown of jade and honored with a golden throne."

I just landed my dream job on Wall Street, but the celebratory champagne came with a bizarre side effect. I can suddenly see the exact probability of someone killing me floating above their heads. My parents? 5% and 70%. The fiancé I ran to for safety? A blood-red 100%.

I thought I was dead for sure. Hell, my blood has already run cold.
I snapped my eyes open only to realize the gunshot wasn't meant for me. But now, I'm being used as a human shield.
The first thing I saw was a man in all black holding a gun to my face.
He stands gallantly menacing, less than five yards from me. And despite the low light, I can see his shirt is only buttoned halfway as a jacket drapes loosely over his broad shoulders.
He is like Hades in a shirt.
"Answer me, motherfucker! Or I swear I'll kill her!" Blondie yelled, jabbing his gun at me and pulling me closer to shield himself.
"Who the fuck are you!"
The stranger returned his attention to my captor;
"You seem to have misunderstood this situation," He said with such calm and vindication, you'd think my life didn't matter.
He continued;
"I'm not the hero that saves the damsel in distress..." He paused,
"...I'm the Grim Reaper."

< Gunshot...! ><<
I froze in my spot, but I didn't feel dead.
"You're safe now." He said, walking up to me. He brushed hair from my wet cheeks as he pulled me closer.
And I just fell on him.
Without hesitating, I rise to my toes and capture his lips in mine.





***

Sapphire Sanchez is just a girl looking for momentary happiness when she makes a rather impulsive move.
Life hasn't exactly been fair to her, and her mother's condition isn't making it easier for her. Then everything turns upside down when a stranger saves her from three hoodlums.
Or maybe the right side up?
Either way, she just met Dimitri Griot, the terror of Silicone City, the Grim Reaper himself.
He has built his empire with the same ruthless vindication he delivers his judgment. And fussy romance wasn't on his agenda when a lowlife cunt got his heart beating in the wrong manner.
He wants her just as much as he hates the weakness.
She wants him even though he incites terror in her.
The condition of romance is clear, and the rules for power are final. It's one of nothing: Power, Vengeance, or Love
Neither of them can have it all. But the question is, which will either of them choose?

Daisy survives high school as a plus sized nerd bullied daily by star quarterback Liam Martinez and his girlfriend Tiffany. When her mother secures her a live in tutoring job for a wealthy family's daughter, it feels like an escape until she discovers the mansion belongs to the Martinez family and Liam is her student's older brother. Now trapped under her bully's roof, Daisy plans to study his weaknesses and destroy him from the inside. But unknown to her, Liam's teammates dared him to publicly date Daisy for three months without catching feelings and he's confident he can win. As fake tutoring sessions become something neither of them expected and the truth about the bet explodes before the championship game, Daisy and Liam must face what they've done to each other and decide if love built on lies and manipulation can become something real.

Laura Montez was born with grease under her nails and fire in her blood. At twenty, she runs a struggling custom bike shop in the city’s forgotten slums, races illegally at night, and fights every day to keep her sick younger sister alive. Two years earlier, her father was framed for corporate sabotage and sent to prison, her family was ruined, and Laura was forced to abandon her dream of becoming an engineer. Since then, she has hated one name above all others—Regal Empire, the powerful corporation responsible for destroying her life.

Nathan Conat is the polished, ruthless heir to that empire. Raised to inherit power instead of love, he knows how to acquire, manipulate, and win—but not how to feel. Sent undercover to clear Laura’s neighborhood for a luxury redevelopment project, Nathan expects to buy Laura out of his way.

Instead, he meets the first woman who refuses to bend.

When Laura humiliates him in her garage, Nathan becomes fascinated and under the guise of a false identity, he manoeuvres his way into her world.

But fascination turns to obsession, and obsession becomes something far more dangerous when Laura discovers he is the very man tied to her family’s ruin.

In a world built on greed, power, and lies, Laura and Nathan must decide whether love can survive the wreckage—or whether some hearts are only made to burn.

As the sole heir to one of America’s wealthiest families, I had always known the Harrington rule: every heir had to go through all four years of high school under an assumed identity, without using a single dollar of the family fortune.

So I wore thick black-framed glasses and secondhand sneakers and worked part-time jobs to support myself.

Everyone at school mocked me for being poor. They said my face was the only thing I had going for me.

Only Nolan, the top-ranked student in our grade, never looked down on me. Once, he slid half an eraser across the library table to me and told me that education could change a person’s life.

The day we started dating, he held my hand and promised me:

“Georgie, I’ll hold your hand through all of it. No matter how hard things get, I won’t let go.”

I believed him.

But during the outdoor club’s final hiking trip before my four-year disguise was over, a storm rolled in. Savannah, his childhood sweetheart, complained that her ankle hurt.

Nolan immediately let go of me and knocked me into the mud as he rushed to her.

Everyone gathered around Savannah to make sure she was okay. Then they laughed at me for thinking a poor girl like me could ever belong with someone like Nolan.

I didn’t cry.

I took off my glasses and placed my muddy, bloodstained hand in the palm of Holden, the Upper East Side heir who had spent the past two years trying to get me to go out with him.

“If you take my hand, you’re agreeing to be my girlfriend.”

“Okay.”

Three years ago, billionaire Theodore Chambers handed Victoria Ellis divorce papers with cold eyes and colder words—all for the sake of his first love, Isabella Waters.
Victoria didn't cry. She didn't beg.
She simply signed her name, walked out of that golden cage, and disappeared from the world of the rich.
What the world didn't expect…
Was for the discarded ex-wife to rise from the ashes—not as a socialite, but as the world's most sought-after reconstructive mortician. Behind every high-profile crime scene and closed casket, she was the one restoring dignity to the dead—and building a name powerful enough to shake law enforcement and the elite alike.
Now, at a funeral of all places, their paths cross again.
She stands beside another man, radiant, untouchable.
He watches in disbelief—his ex-wife, no longer his.
"You handle corpses every day. Aren't you afraid of bad luck?" he growls, grabbing her wrist.
She smiles coldly.
"In my heart, the grass over your grave has already grown two meters tall."
But fate has one final card to play.
When Victoria finds Theodore lying in a pool of blood, clutching an old photo of her, everything unravels.
Was it too late after all?
Or is love just another body she's not willing to reconstruct?

Last time, she chased the “true love” a corporate spy sold her—publicly branded me controlling, stole my core tech, and helped him shove me off a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t expose her, didn’t confront her, and didn’t beg her to stay. I set the trap—watched her come close again, test my limits, and steal the “core technology”…

Until the stolen code blew up the rival company, until she was unmasked in front of the cameras and taken away in handcuffs.

Through tears, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner he was a corporate spy?”

I answered only, “I did. Last life.”

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.

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.

I was never supposed to exist in the Blood Moon Pack, low-born, no surname, no family to shield me.
Yet the Alpha chose me and called me “his one and only mate for this lifetime”.
He said he loved me.
So I endured. I stepped back. I forgave him again and again.
Until the day I was pushed down the stairs, dragged into the punishment grounds, strapped to an electric restraint bed, and heard them calmly discussing how far they should go this time; what kind of punishment would finally make the “real family” feel at ease?
That was when I understood in their world, I wasn’t a mate. I wasn’t family. I wasn’t even seen as a person. I was just a bargaining chip, but something disposable, something meant to be sacrificed when convenient.
So I learned to stay quiet, to remember everything, and to wait.
They thought I died in that fire.
But when I stepped back into the moonlight, I was no longer an Omega.

The day I signed the divorce papers, Ethan Frost lit up the night sky with thousands of drones spelling out, ‘Vivian Moore, I love you.’ The whole city celebrated his new romance.
On our daughter, Sophie’s birthday, he watched coldly as Vivian’s daughter snatched away her favorite Elsa princess cake—and didn’t even blink when I was shoved down the stairs. Bleeding and trembling, I looked up to see him tenderly massaging Vivian’s feet.
But what truly shattered me was the day Sophie struggled in the pool—Ethan held me back, eyes dark, roaring, “What do you want?”
Later, he scrambled to Sophie’s photo on his knees, crying “Where’s Sophie? Bring her out.” While I only felt absurd, I smiled through my tears “you will never see Sophie again—ever.”

My mate—Alpha Jasper—knelt on one knee, proposing to me at my birthday party when Sienna Burrows suddenly appeared.
She was his fated mate once. His first love.
Dressed in the exact same backless red gown I was wearing, she stood there like a queen, regal and untouchable.
She let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Hah. Alpha Jasper, no matter how perfect a copy may be, it will never be me."
Alpha Jasper didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he turned to me, gently taking my left hand in his. His voice was deep, filled with emotion.
"Cynthia, will you marry me?"

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

Once, I was the Golden Dragon Princess, loved by my family and cherished by the man I would have died for. Then one accusation shattered everything. My dragon core was sealed, and I was cast into the frozen abyss to repent for a crime I never committed. Three years later, I died alone beneath the endless snow—on the very day my fiancé was set to marry my sister, the one who framed me. He stared at my lifeless face, trembling. “Seraphina… please wake up.”

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.

Y

Hiding my identity and marrying an ambitious female celebrity—this is the most boring social experiment I've ever done.
She wants me to leave with nothing.
She gave my family heirloom to that gigolo.
She tweeted that I was "low-class trash".
She didn't know that Hollywood, which she was desperately trying to climb up to, was nothing more than my backyard.
She had no idea that those capitalists she fawned over would all bow down and call me "Mr. Rockwell."
Until that night, she stripped naked, attempting to offer herself to the enigmatic "godfather of capital"—
The leather sofa slowly turned around.
The lights were on.
She saw my face.
“Chloe,” I flicked my cigar ash, “what brings you here?”

"I need to bear my sworn brother a child first."

At our engagement ceremony, my wife took her sworn brother's hand.

"Brother has been so good to me—he even sacrificed his fertility to protect me. This is my way of repaying him."

So they made me wait three years.

When those three years ended, they still thought I'd be the same as before—obeying their every command like a loyal dog.

What she didn't know was this:

I am the Supreme Wolf King.

Everything her family possessed—I gave it to them.

Now, I'm taking it all back.

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.

On our wedding day, my fiancé gave the wedding dress I had made by hand to his sick sister—and let her marry into the DeLuca family in my place.
Everyone told me to give in because she was fragile, while I was strong enough to endure it.
That night, I walked away, revoked my access to the family, and left my mother’s atelier.
Later, his sister’s fake illness was exposed, and my fiancé got down on his knees, begging me to come back.
But I was no longer the woman who would sacrifice everything for them.

On the day Evelyn thought Liam would propose, he shocked her by getting down on one knee—for her stepsister, Samantha. As if that betrayal wasn’t enough, Evelyn learned the cruel truth: her parents had already decided to sell one daughter’s future to a dangerous man: the infamous War God Alpha Alexander, who was rumored to be scarred and crippled after a recent accident. And the bride could’t be their precious daughter Samantha. However, when the "ugly and crippled" Alpha revealed his true self—an impossibly handsome billionaire with no trace of injury—Samantha had a change of heart. She was ready to dump Liam and take Evelyn's place as the family daughter who should marry Alexander.
Yet Alexander made his decision clear to the world: “Evelyn is the only woman I will ever marry.”

The God of this world had grown angry and frustrated yet again.

His world was supposed to entertain him!

It was supposed to be fun to watch!

Yet, every single guy in his world only practiced Magic all of the time!

This was so boring!

"Alright, that's it. I need someone else, someone who actually has some originality to show my world that there's more than just Magic. I need someone that is willing to destroy themselves and others on his path to power. I need someone that doesn't crack under any mortal danger."

"I should check out that other planet. Yes, you!"

Alex was an ex-fighter trying to come to terms with normal life. Sadly, his life ended in tragedy, but before he could enter the afterlife, he was pulled away by a God that wants him to fix his world.

Watch Alex as he dominates the world of Mages and becomes the only Sword God in a World full of nothing but Mages!