3189 Book(s) Related to gotta go my own way lyrics

It took her five years to follow her own wishes and marry him. Yet he sold her to the Resorts World LA, killed their baby with his own hands...... What he did reduced her to the unprecedented misery and uncountable unhappiness. However, when she finally got rid of her love for him, which was like a poisonous thorn, he changed his mind and begged her to stay as if he"s gone mad. But for her, none of them mattered--love or reputation. He"d rather die than crawl back to the grave he built for her!

When Sylvia lost her last family and thought this was where her life as a rogue began, the most powerful Alpha dragged her to his mansion.
"I owe your father a debt," he said to her. "Anything you desire, I’ll give it."
But as he leaned closer—cedar and danger swirling in the air—all she wanted was:
His teeth on her neck.
His kiss like a brand.

Invent any power you want.
But if anyone guesses it, you die.
Most contestants choose simple abilities: invisibility, teleportation, super strength. They begin dying within hours.
Evan Reed chooses something else.
He writes definitions. Exceptions. Appendices. Loopholes. Countermeasures. Hundreds of thousands of words that turn every sentence into a law of reality.
Now billions of viewers are trying to solve him, the system’s Judge has entered the game, and Evan is still typing.
Because his real weapon isn’t gravity control, conceptual erasure, or immortality.
It’s the fine print.

Claire Bennett built her marriage the way she built her fortune: with clear eyes, sharp numbers, and no illusions about love. So when her husband, Ethan, announces that he is pretending to be poor for a younger woman, Claire is less offended by the affair than by the insultingly low breakup fee he plans to offer.

Then the game turns expensive. The young woman knows more than Ethan thinks, and the elite attorney hired to tear apart Claire's finances is Adrian Shaw, the broke student Claire once deceived, desired, and abandoned with two million dollars. To survive the divorce, Claire must outplay a husband who wants devotion without sacrifice, face the man who once offered her everything he had, and decide whether money can still buy the only thing she actually regrets losing.

My husband, Ethan Cole, had found a young woman to play poor with. He shared her rented apartment, wore matching outfits bought on clearance, and hunted down takeout deals. He called it getting back to his roots.

We'd had even less when we started out. A leaking basement. Cheap noodles because delivery cost too much. Now that we were rich, he missed being broke.

"It's just for fun. We're not sleeping together," he told me. "When I get bored, I'll give her two hundred thousand dollars to move on. You won't have to deal with her."

I didn't cry. I didn't throw anything.

After a moment, I asked, "Two hundred thousand? Isn't that a little cheap?"

Years earlier, I'd played the same game with a broke young man.

When I left him, I'd paid two million.

Five years after the rejection that tore them apart, Lethia and Castiel cross paths again at a secluded medical facility.

Lethia is now a respected doctor, while Castiel is an Alpha known for enforcing peace in the rogue clan.

There, Castiel meets a little girl whose face mirrors Lethia's. But his heart shatters when he sees the man he knew pushing the child’s wheelchair.

Bound by buried secrets, old wounds, and unspoken truths, Lethia and Castiel must face a question: Was their bond truly broken or merely tested by fate?

After my parents passed away, I regarded the Carter family as my last blood relatives and Jessica as the light for the rest of my life. Until that day, Dafu, who was sitting next to me on the sofa, suddenly looked up and his voice hit me directly in the head.
It said that Jessica holding Brad's arm was a ploy to force me to sell my house. It said that my parents' insurance money had long been "borrowed" away by Carter time and time again. It said that in thirty days, extreme cold would arrive, with temperatures dropping to minus eighty degrees Celsius, turning the world into hell.
Memories of my past life were also poured in by Dafu—they broke my legs and threw me outside, where I froze into an ice sculpture in a blizzard.
Dafu rushed to save me, but Brad pinned him to the snow, skinned him, made a fire, and ate him.
I silently pulled out the Glock 19 my father had left me and chambered a round.
Click.
In this life, I won't listen to people anymore; I'll listen to dogs.

When I woke up in that hospital bed, legs wrapped in casts and burning like hell, everything came flooding back. This time, I wasn't the naive fool I'd been before.
Tyler, my brother Ryan, and that bitch Savannah—they destroyed me. Turned a gymnastics prodigy into a cripple.
Tyler had the nerve to grab my hand, begging me to forgive Savannah for ruining my legs. My brother chose outsiders over me, screaming about "family reputation."
Fuck their love. Fuck family.
This time around, I've got evidence of the $1.2 million they owe me. I know all their dirty secrets. Round two has started, and I'm done being their victim.
Those three bastards are going to pay back every damn cent they stole from me.

On the seventh turning of our Lunar Oath, I sat on my Alpha's lap, my hand resting on my flat stomach where our first pup was growing. I was waiting for midnight to tell him.
Then he spoke to his warriors in the Old Tongue.
"My new shadow-pet, Lirael... she tastes like an unplucked sweet-vine in the dark."
He was talking about my own sister.
While my mate smiled at me, playing the devoted Alpha, he had already ruined our sacred bond. And when my sister showed up at our gates claiming she carried his heir, I didn't scream, cry, or beg for the truth.
I just smiled.
Three days.
In three sunsets, Seren Thalyn will cease to exist.
By the time he breached his safe to find my wedding ring and my signed severance scroll, I would already be gone.

A man's luxurious watch slipped out of my wife's purse. Without batting an eye, she lied, "It's a gift for your dad." Looking at the youthful, trendy style and thinking of the remote-controlled toy that had mysteriously appeared in the nightstand, I felt nothing but utter disgust.
In the surveillance footage, the domineering homewrecker not only wore my clothes but also arrogantly taunted me.
And my own flesh and blood, the son I cherished more than my own eyes, had covered for them for a few hundred dollars of pocket money!
Since everything was rotten to the core, I wouldn't even want the son anymore.
Without a word, I accepted a tenured professor position overseas, decisively gave up custody, and promptly mailed the divorce papers and the adult toy to her company.
The mistress and the homewrecker's little celebration? Let them torment each other.
This time, I'm taking my life back.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I received a bouquet of red roses from my husband, Gabriel.

The problem was, I was severely allergic to roses — something I'd told him countless times.

"Same order number, two deliveries," the delivery man said casually, glancing at his clipboard.

My blood ran cold.

The man who'd claimed he had to work late — who couldn't even spare me a simple "Happy anniversary" — was at that very moment holding another woman in his arms. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. A designer handbag. Diamond jewelry. And on his face, a tender smile I hadn't seen once in five years of marriage.

For him, I had given up everything. I'd gone from being the pampered darling of the Rivers family to a wife crammed into a tiny apartment, comparing prices across three different grocery stores just to stretch every dollar. I'd filed down every sharp edge I had. Swallowed every last ounce of my pride.

And yet here he was — while I was still carrying his child — lavishing the very best of everything on someone else.

Gabriel, you dare betray me?

Then that CEO seat? Consider it gone.

A once-formidable heiress, dulled and diminished by love, was about to reclaim everything she'd lost. The masks were coming off.

And the reckoning was just beginning.

Today was my wedding day.
In just one hour, I would be walking down the aisle in my wedding dress toward my future husband.

"Marry me. Come now.
Sender: Landon"

My childhood sweetheart had suddenly sent me a message. Just one sentence and a location pinned on a map.

I didn't even have time to change. I rushed to the location still wearing my wedding dress.
But when I arrived, what greeted me wasn't a wedding venue, but the unbridled, mocking laughter of Landon and his buddies.

"And here I thought she had some self-respect! She actually rented a wedding dress just to throw herself at Landon?"
"Hilarious. Landon’s been playing her this whole time, and she still has zero backbone. How pathetic!"
"All Landon has to do is whistle, and she comes running, wagging her tail like a dog!"

Three years ago, to quell a mafia feud and save my father's life, I married Alessio.

Over the past three years, the occasional scraps of tenderness he threw my way had slowly tricked me into falling in love.

Until the day I nearly bled to death giving birth to our twins—only for him to immediately hand them over to his true love. His adoptive sister, Bianca, had been left sterile after taking a bullet for him years ago.

In the end, the reality was clear. I was just a breeding vessel, kept around merely to bear children for the only woman he ever loved.

My dignity, my flesh and blood, and my ridiculous love were unapologetically trampled into the dirt.

And when the devastating news of my father's brutal murder followed, the very last trace of weakness in my heart disintegrated into ash.

As my younger sister drove her crystal blade into my chest, she screeched in mad laughter: "Why did you get to achieve fame and glory just because you chose Wisdom? If I could start over, I’d never choose Beauty!"
A blinding white light exploded before my eyes. We were both reborn, back in the Fate-Chamber.
This time, she shoved me aside and snatched the "Pact of Wisdom," tossing the "Pact of Charm"—the very power she so utterly despised—to me. She couldn't wait to see me turn into a useless, superficial airhead.
Inside the top-tier magic academy, armed with the enhanced memory and comprehension granted by her contract, she reveled in the spotlight and showered me with ruthless mockery.
What she didn't know was that the Pact of Wisdom never bestowed unearned miracles. Without discipline, the gifted talent would ultimately devour her. And the Pact of Charm she so thoroughly reviled was never meant for sycophancy—as long as I stayed clear-headed and true to myself, that power would become my impenetrable spiritual fortress.
In this life, I am still your worst nightmare.

The first thing I do with my second chance is sell off my perfect fiancé for ten million dollars.

The first time around, I became someone else for Julian Whitmore.

He likes nude-toned dresses. Hates when I wear anything with color. He won't let me have more than one glass of champagne in public. Won't let me laugh too loud. Won't let me initiate anything in bed.

His voice is always so calm, like he's correcting a disobedient pet.

I spend three years turning myself into what he wants: docile, proper, flawless. Until depression drags me under. Until that night I lay in the bathtub and watched the water turn red.

When I die, he's still downstairs in his study, editing my speech for tomorrow's charity gala.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in the Winters' living room with that unsigned arrangement in front of me.

This time? Fuck perfect.

But when he lifts that veil at the wedding and realizes the bride isn't me, this man who's spent his whole life in control completely loses it.

On our one-year anniversary, my husband Julian gifted me an antique ring.
Putting it on cost me everything.
I miscarried, grew paralyzed, and rapidly withered into a husk. And Julian? He convinced everyone that the trauma had simply driven a grieving mother insane.
Eventually, even I believed him.
It wasn’t until the moment of my murder that the truth finally clicked.
The ring wasn't a blessing; it was a parasitic siphon.
Then, I opened my eyes—
I was back at the anniversary dinner.

On a rainy night, I lay in a pool of my own blood, barely alive.
My wife, Juliana, was kneeling beside a man named Sebastian. "Take my husband's blood! I will take full responsibility if anything happens!"
Drop by drop, my lifeblood was drained from me, flowing into the body of her first love.
After three days and nights of struggling in the ICU, I finally regained consciousness, only to hear her scornful words outside the door: "Sacrificing a mediocre researcher for the health of my Muse is a worthwhile trade."
So, the five years of tender affection, the specially prepared nutritional soups she brought me every night—it was all to squeeze the last drop of blood from me.
She thought I would remain in the dark like a loyal dog, letting her take whatever she wanted.
Too bad she didn't know that I had quietly poured out that "medicine" and called the Security Bureau.
It was time for the hunter and the prey to switch roles.

On my wedding anniversary, I died a brutal death, drained of every drop of blood by my husband’s socalled “sacred snow ferret”. That creature was Sylvia, his longdead true love striving for rebirth. For three long years, I was nothing more than a disposable blood vessel. Even my own son betrayed me for hollow, false affection.
Given a second chance at life, I cast aside all foolish mercy. I watched coldly as my hypocritical mage husband and traitorous son doted on the ferret, and documented every one of their heinous crimes.
I turned his longawaited reunion into a boneandflesh feast.
When the Templar tribunal finally arrived to pass judgment, I broke free from the cage of my old life and stepped out toward my own boundless freedom.

Three years ago, I devoted my family's entire fortune to rescue my husband from the mire of impending bankruptcy. I once believed this was a mutual journey of love, until that day revealed the chilling truth — I had merely been nurturing a self-consuming wolf.
The metallic scent of blood still hung in the air of the delivery room when he signed the document relinquishing life support, trading our newly born child for a flicker of hope for his beloved.
As I lay in a pool of blood, dialing his number, I could hear the heavy breaths of him and his mistress on the other end.
The explosion of the yacht cast flames upon the sea, and in that life-or-death moment, he unhesitatingly let go of my hand.
They all believed I had perished beneath the waves.
Very well.
Now, my wedding invitation lies within his reach.

I helped him claw his way up from nothing—from the family's bastard to king of the underworld.

I saved him when he got jumped in the streets. Took bullets for him when his father beat him half dead. We fought our way up from nothing, survived assassination attempts, built an empire that made people fear our name.

I thought we'd always stand together.

Until the day I nearly died giving birth, and all I found in the bassinet was a stack of cash.

I asked him where our baby was. He couldn't look me in the eye. His stepmother walked out holding my son. Smiled and said she deserved this, a child of her own, since she couldn't have one herself. He'd given my baby to another woman.

Turns out he'd been sleeping with her the whole time.

I threw the money in his face. I spent the next six years trying to get my son back.

Last week, when some small-time gang grabbed him, I went in alone with a gun. Bullets flew past my ears, kicked up concrete dust. I fought my way to the back and pulled him out. At the hospital, he pushed me away, crying, "Why'd you have to come?! We could've been a real family by now! Just leave! Leave me alone!"

I stared at his small face for a long time.

Finally, I said, "Call me mom one last time. Then I'll let you go."

A hundred years ago, old Duke Rowland saved me with a bowl of hot soup when I was dying. To repay him, I swore myself, as the Silver Wolf Goddess, to a hundred-year covenant protecting House Rowland.

I taught Garrett how to hold a sword. I turned Caleb into a prodigy at the Mages' Guild. I saved Preston's family from ruin.

But Lillian took a potion to fake being sick, and all it took was her claiming only my heart could save her to turn three men's knives on me.

In my last life, I begged them to listen, told them that cutting out my heart would tear down the foundation of House Rowland itself. They finally backed off.

Then Lillian, trying to keep the lie going, secretly upped her dose and poisoned herself to death in her own bed.

The three of them lost their minds and blamed me for her death.

"A beast doesn't get to call itself the guardian of House Rowland. Die."

They cut my heart out. I died on that altar.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they took my heart.

This time, I didn't waste my breath. I handed it over myself and let them have what they wanted.

The goddess's heart fell. The covenant ended.

They just didn't know yet how badly House Rowland would fall apart without me.

I just got out of prison after three years, and my family wants me to go back in.
"It's only three days," they said. "You survived three years—what's three more days?"
What they don't know: I'm dying. The only thing keeping me alive is my mate bond. Three days away from Everett means death.
For three years in prison, someone sent me food every week. No note, no name. I thought it meant my family still loved me.
I was so grateful.
I didn't know it was my twin sister. I didn't know what was inside.

The new member posted a yacht contract to the club group chat on her first day in. The caption read: Thanks for the birthday present, Dad 🥂
Ten seconds later she deleted it. Breezy apology. Oops, wrong group.
I looked at the photo one more time before it disappeared. I didn't check the numbers. I looked at the name painted across the bow.
It was my mother's name.
The boat was mine. My father had told me about it a week ago.
The chat didn't care. Which family is she from? Ninety-six feet of custom teak. Sienna, you dark horse.
I asked, quietly, if she'd share the registration number. I wanted to hear what she'd say.
My own husband stood up from two desks over and tore into me in front of every member in the room. Told me I was jealous. Told me I was an embarrassment. Told me to know my place.
Later that week, he broke into my safe. Took the diamond my father had given me for my mother — and put it around her neck.
That night my father's encrypted voice memo came in from somewhere at sea. One minute long. The last line was this:
"Find your mother's necklace. I can't wear her myself. I need you to wear her for me."

The housekeeper’s daughter just locked me out of my own Bentley.

"Bob, drive," Ella Brooks—the school's untouchable Queen Bee—ordered my chauffeur. She leaned into her boyfriend, Ryan Harrington, shooting me a look of fake pity. "My family already pays her tuition. Charity cases don't get free rides."

A bunch of kids nearby laughed, always eager to kiss up to the fake heiress. Ryan glared at me like I was actual trash. "Maya, if someone puts a roof over your head, show some respect. Know your place."

The tinted windows rolled up. Tires squealed, leaving me choking on exhaust.

I stood on the curb, watching my car speed off. She had hijacked my entire life to play school royalty and snag a wealthy guy, convincing everyone I was the freeloader.

I was so pissed I actually laughed. She mistook my low profile for weakness.

She wanted to play the billionaire's daughter? Fine. Playtime is officially over.

From a young age, I understood that my asthma was a shackle for my entire family. My parents took turns caring for me, their hearts gripped by the fear of any sign of respiratory distress. In their fervent concern for my health, they even compelled my sister, Sophie, freshly accepted into university, to postpone her studies and return home to assist in my care.
At Sophie's eighteenth birthday celebration, I lingered at the edge of the crowd, my chest constricted, and my throat felt as if it were ensnared by invisible hands. I gently tugged at my mother's sleeve, my voice barely a whisper: "Mom, I... can't breathe. I want to go back to my room..."
In an instant, my mother whirled around, her eyes ablaze with fury, as though she had awaited this moment of eruption. She seized my inhaler and hurled it into the farthest corner of the room.
"If it's this painful, then go die!" she shrieked, her words cutting like a knife. "Stop using your illness to hold us hostage!"
The inhaler tumbled to the floor, rolling away like a forgotten piece of trash. I stared at it blankly, a sudden laugh escaping my lips.
And then, I truly died. Yet, in the wake of my passing, those who once found me a burden descended into madness.

Only after I lost the promotion did I find out that my broke boyfriend secretly owned the company I worked for.

He'd voted against me.

One of his friends asked him, “Aren't you worried Nora Bennett will find out you've been lying to her and raise hell?”

Blake Whitmore gave a casual laugh.

“Why would I be? It doesn't take much to make her happy again.”

“Chloe's different. She's been a princess her whole life. When she wants something, she has to have it. I can't stand seeing her upset.”

“It's just a director's job. If she wants it, I'll let her have her fun.”

Chloe Sinclair.

The woman they'd brought in from outside to take the position I'd worked for.

Something I'd fought so hard to earn was just a toy she could have for the asking.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes, looked down at my phone, and answered the recruiter.

“Hi. I'd like to accept the offer in Pittsburgh.”

On our third wedding anniversary, a catastrophic car accident plunged me into a state of life-threatening hemorrhage. Yet, before the medical staff, my husband roared: "Draw my wife's blood first; save Serena."

Serena—his first love.

It became apparent that he had never married me out of love; I was but a living blood bank, intended solely to sustain his cherished first love. It was only when I discovered I was pregnant that I realized he would not even spare the life within me.

That incarceration, cloaked in the guise of love, had nearly claimed my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the Clara who could be so easily sacrificed. This time, I shall ensure he pays for his blood debt, with no chance of redemption.

I married into a wealthy family in place of my runaway sister, but my husband, Damian, refuses to touch me.

He refuses to dance with me in public, rejects my kiss, and even has my luggage dumped in the hotel lobby.

Believing he despises me, I pull off my wedding ring and prepare to leave.

But the moment my blood touches the blue diamond, I hear his thoughts:

“Leave. I want her too much. If she comes any closer, I really will hurt her.”

On my wedding day, my entire family received Iris’s desperate plea for help.
“Mom, Dad, Brother! I’ve been kidnapped, come save me, quick!”
Everyone panicked—including my fiancé, Theodore.
They interrupted the wedding ceremony to rush to Iris.
I begged them through tears not to go. I said it was a trick, something Iris had staged herself.
“The ceremony would have been over in ten more minutes. Can’t you just wait ten minutes?”
My parents called me a heartless, ungrateful wretch. My brother, Ron, pried my fingers from his tuxedo lapel.
“Chloe, stop being so selfish! Even if Iris isn’t your blood sister, how can you be so cruel?!”
“All you care about is your own wedding! Do you really want to see her die?!”
My fiancé looked at me with disappointment. “Let’s cancel the wedding for now.”
“I just realized… the one I care about more… is Iris.”
Watching their hurried figures disappear, I picked up a knife and locked myself in the bridal suite.

Did you slaughter your roommates?" the detective sneered. "No!" I screamed. The polygraph technician stared at the flawless readouts confirming I told the absolute truth. I was innocent. But if a human didn't tear those girls apart in our locked dorm... then what exactly is hunting me now?

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband Hill invited many friends over for a party at the house. Everyone was noisily playing games, and the challenge was to reveal a private secret about someone in the room.
When it was Elsa's turn, she pointed at Hill's lower body. "Hill has a crescent-shaped birthmark. It's in a very private spot."
After saying this, Elsa collapsed onto the sofa laughing. Hill pretended to be angry, jumped up, and pounced on Elsa, smacking her on the butt.
I was frozen in shock. Hill's birthmark really was extremely private—you couldn't even see it without looking closely. I only discovered it myself after being married to him for a year.
Sensing my emotional shift, everyone stopped their roughhousing.
Elsa shrugged nonchalantly. "Zoe, don't overthink it. Before you got married, someone slipped Hill something once. I had no choice but to help him out. But don't worry, I promise he saved his first time for you."
Then she tapped her lips. "I used this place back then. Wore me out, honestly."
I felt my stomach churn violently and nearly threw up. Without thinking, I hurled my wine glass directly at Elsa.
"Sorry. Slipped. Just trying to help you rinse your mouth."

My ex-husband found me selling hair clips at a flea market. Rosie was asleep in her stroller.
"Come home. She's too young for this."
I said yes.
After that, I stopped checking his phone.
Rosie stopped crying when the other girl took her toys.
He spent the night at Simone's—we didn't call.
We ran into them at the mall—we walked the other way.
We finally became what he always wanted. Easy. Quiet. No drama.
So why is he the one who can't sleep now?
"Why don't you get mad anymore?"
"Rosie, why won't you ask me to stay?"

On Halloween night, a sharp stench of chlorine and cheap booze woke me up.
I opened my eyes to a man grinning at the bedroom door.
It was my husband, David, soaking wet and showing off the liquor he’d vanished hours ago to buy.
I cursed him out, called him a liar, and demanded a divorce. He just kept that idiotic smile.
Then my phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Claire, David drowned drunk in the pool!"

Five years ago, my family burned to death in an "accident."

My loving husband Clifford signed the papers himself—shipped me off to a mental institution without a second thought.

Inside, Becky carved up my face with shattered glass. The same orphan I'd put through school. Then she rebuilt herself to match my features and stole my life—my husband, my son, everything.

Now she marched into the clinic where I scrub floors, dragging my biological child behind her, demanding I apologize to him like some servant.

She has no idea what kind of monster she created.

Five years ago, I stepped in front of a crossbow bolt for Lucian Vael, and he turned me into a vampire before I had the chance to say no.
He told me I was the first person he'd loved in six hundred years. He bought a castle and named it after me. He reserved a spot for me in his family's crypt so we'd lie there together when the time came—right beside his parents, in the inner ring where only blood and the most beloved go.
While I spent four years bleeding myself dry over ancient rites, trying to carry his child, he was across the city watching another woman do it on her first try. Using my research to get there.
He named one of the twins Soren. That was the name I'd chosen.
The night I found out, I was seven weeks pregnant.
I didn't tell him.
I called Mira and said: I need him to think I'm dead.

Everyone in town said I dumped my blind boyfriend because I couldn't stand being poor.
Five years later, I'd become a blind drifter myself, relying on handouts just to eat.
And he'd become one of Silicon Valley's hottest rising tech moguls.
He recognized me, but pretended he didn't.
He wanted me on my knees. Wanted me begging. Wanted me to pay for "abandoning" him.
Until he found out the person who gave up everything for him back then was no one else...
But me.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

I was rejected, but soon, I will marry a wheelchair-bound Rogue.
"Is this your fiancé?"
"Yes, he is my husband, Raymond Black," I introduced.
"How shameful, you are marrying this... uh, rogue, who has no clan, no fixed pack, and can't even protect you if attacked by other werewolves?"
I stood at the altar, with many people below, as if saying to me: you are such a fool!
Raymond said beside me, "Caitlin, if you want to back out, you still have a chance now, you can choose to run away."
I shook my head, "No... I won't run away, you will be my husband."
I saw a hint of surprise in his emerald, green eyes.

I was set up by my best friend to have sex with a strange man, my first MATE rejected me, an enemy weapon ran through my father's heart, pierced my mother's body. My best friend's family stripped me of my ALPHA status, and I became everyone's go-to OMEGA. Until that man came along, Rogue, and he saved me, but... I found that he seemed to hide a lot of secrets，wait, my second mate is alpha king?!

I am the wife of Don Nikolai. For years, I endured his violence and the constant humiliation from his mistress, Sofia.
On a stormy night, I saved a boy named Silvio — the sole survivor of a massacre ordered by Nikolai — and raised him as my adopted son. I never imagined he would become my shield. When Nikolai struck me, Silvio stepped forward and shouted, “You will not hit her!” When Sofia provoked me, he stood up for me every time.
While risking his life to hone his skills, Silvio secretly gathered evidence of Nikolai’s crimes. When the Don sensed betrayal, he sent Silvio on a mission meant to kill him — then turned his brutality on me.
As I lay dying, Silvio returned, bloodied and broken, and threw a punch at Nikolai.
“I came back,” he roared, “to kill you!”
After coming of age, he confessed:
“I was never truly your son. I want to marry you.”

Torn between the man she loves, and the man who loves her....

Cordia has always been strong-willed, but she knows her family expects her to accept the hand of her childhood friend, Jaris, in marriage. As the conflict continues to escalate, Cordia hopes it will last long enough for her to find a way to free herself without breaking her friend’s heart.

On the eve of war, Cordia meets a mysterious newcomer. There’s just something about Will that she finds both intriguing and dangerous. She makes a plan to write to him. Perhaps by the time the war is over, Will’s feelings for Cordia will have blossomed into love.

But by the time war begins to wind its way through Missouri, one of these men will be dead, and Cordia will find herself betrothed to a man she loathes. Will she have the courage to follow her heart, or will she do as she is told and acquiesce to a loveless marriage to a heartless traitor?

Bonus story Cordia's Hope!

Forbidden love on the frontier....
Hope is content staying in her hometown of Lamar, Missouri, focusing on her life as a schoolteacher instead of finding love. But when she hears the truth about her parents' romance during the Civil War, how her mother Cordia set out to find her father Will after a deadly battle, Hope is determined to have that sort of adventure as well.

Accepting a teaching position in a frontier town in Texas isn't quite what she was expecting--there are no marauders or gunslingers--but there is one man with a shady past, and when the entire town tells her to stay away from Judah Lawless, Hope finds herself drawn to him.

Is Judah dangerous, or will Hope finally find the romance she's been looking for?

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

I was forced by my father to fulfill an arranged engagement with an Alpha I'd never met face-to-face. Pushing open the jewelry store door, I found my fiancé Kane spoiling his childhood sweetheart Briar, who was trying to snatch my mother’s ring. "Security! Get this stray out of here!" Briar screamed, pointing at me. When I revealed my identity, Kane sneered coldly: "What bullshit pact? I would never marry a woman like you." Briar snatched the ring and threw water at my face: "Kneel down and beg me to give it back!" When I fought back, Kane exploded in rage: "How dare you touch my woman? Hold her down!" Four warriors pinned me down as Briar laughed cruelly: "Let everyone see this delusional bitch who doesn't know her place!" They stepped on my hand while Kane watched coldly, even urging her on: "Hurry up, let her learn her lesson." Just as she was about to chop off my finger with a knife, the door suddenly burst open—"Do you have any idea whose daughter you're humiliating?"

Lysa loved Damian for seven years, yet hypnotic manipulation warped his memories, leading him to brand her the killer of his parents. With his own hands, he cut her bones and implanted canine fur, transforming her into a deformed half-human beast and subjecting her to endless humiliation and torture. She watched her mother die a brutal death and was forced to swallow her mother’s cremated ashes. At the brink of death, her ancestral sea spirit pendant awakened, shedding her mangled hound form to birth a tyrannical deep-sea siren. Once the scheming fake heroine’s lies were laid bare, Damian descended into madness, drowning in desperate remorse. Wielding the immortal power of a siren, Lysa cast all her tormentors into an endless living hell—and she would never grant them forgiveness.

Six months into our marriage, Adrian still wouldn’t touch me.
Every time I reached for him, he pulled away at the last moment. I thought he didn’t love me. I thought he’d only married me because my sister had run away to Paris.
So I drafted our divorce papers.
But just as I was preparing to leave, I discovered his secret. He had stolen my lingerie, tattooed my name on his body, and turned to the internet for advice under an anonymous account:
“I’ve loved her for years. How do I make her see it?”

Trigger Warning: 18+, rape, abuse, Mature and sexual content, slavery, violence.

"Don't get the ideas that you are ever going to receive anything other than hate from me, Athena. I don't need a mate. I don't need a weak pathetic bond like this to survive," He growled as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and harshly threw me on the bed.

I was naked and helpless in front of his menacing eyes.

"Sebastian, please don't do this..."

"I have purchased you from that auction only because you'll come in use to tame my wolf, and you are nothing but a good that I will use every day and night for my pleasure. And your life in hell starts from today."

"Please don't..." I begged but none of my words affected him.

I backed away till my body hit against the headboard but he dragged me by my ankles and shredded the last piece of fabric, my panties, and threw it away.


After being sold by my parents to auctioneers because of being a wolf-less she-wolf, When fate landed me in my mate's arms from the auction, for once I thought I was finally going to find happiness...someone who'd love me. But it was another hell I landed into.

Sebastian Valdez-- was known as the cursed Alpha who killed his own father. Everyone feared him, his barbaric deeds had no bounds, and he did not have a heart. He only had one rule in his life--Thrive in others' pain. But what he did to me was even worse.

He snatched my innocence, abused me, raped me every night, hurt me beyond extreme, and left me with only the want to escape from his cage but that was until I got to know what his curse was......

"Your pussy is dripping for us, begging for us to use it." His deep voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Do you want that, buttercup? Do you want us to give your little cunt what it craves?"

"Y…yes, sir." I breathed


Joanna Clover's hard work through university paid off when she got a secretary job offer to her dream company, Dangote Group of Industries. The company is owned by three mafia heirs, they don't only own a joint business, they are also lovers and had been together since their college days.

They are sexually attracted to one another but they share everything together including women and they change them like clothes. They are known as the world's most dangerous playboys.

They want to share her but will she accept the fact that they fuck each other?

Will she be able to navigate business and pleasure?

She has never been touched by a man before let alone three, all at the same time. Will she oblige?

♡ I could see the pain flicker in his eyes when he finally said: "I don't think I can be friends with you anymore, Amari." ♡

Amari Vasilios, the CEO of the fast growing Advertising Company in California, got her heart broken by her best friend five years ago. She never thought that out of all the people her best friend, Zane Shaw, would be the one who would break her heart first... only because of a girl he had known for FOUR MONTHS.

She was livid and she still is. She ignored and tried to avoid him as much as possible and for the past five years it worked.

But now.

Now she's staring at the invitation letter in her hand. It was a wedding invitation. From her brother and his fiancee.

She had to go home. She had to go back to New York and attend the wedding.

Attending the wedding means seeing him again.

Attending the wedding means seeing the person she had successfully avoid for five years.

Is love something that fades away? I used to think not. But here I am, Wendy Knight, stuck in a loveless marriage with a husband who has rekindled an old flame, and a mother-in-law who seems to live to make me miserable. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I got diagnosed with liver cancer...
Little did I know, a childhood friend had been quietly watching over me all these years. He's drop-dead gorgeous, incredibly wealthy, and powerful, and he showers me with tender, unwavering care. As for my cheating ex-husband? Let him regret and stay out of my life!

After five years of a secret marriage, her husband never showed any affection in public. Sophia Johnson had always chalked it up to his personality—until he took their twin sons and his first love out for a candlelit dinner, earning rave reviews online as the "most stunning family." That’s when her heart finally shattered completely.
Hearing her own sons call the woman "Auntie" repeatedly, Sophia came to her senses. A husband who didn’t love her, sons who were estranged from her—she didn’t want any of it. From that moment on, she would only love herself.
After the divorce, she returned to her hometown village to pick up her old profession: growing medicinal herbs, treating rare illnesses, and developing skincare miracles. Luxury cars often arrived late at night in the remote village, drawn by her skills.
When word got out that she was looking for a father for her daughter, elite scientists, financial tycoons, A-list idols, award-winning actors... All kinds of tycoons emerged, volunteering themselves, hoping to catch her eye.
Later, her ex-husband knelt on a bed of durians, his face filled with remorse. "Soph, I love you. Will we remarry?"
She scoffed. "William Smith, isn’t the forbidden fruit sweet enough?"
Her twin sons knelt on computer keyboards side by side. "Mommy, we only want you!"
Sophia waved them off. "No, I can’t afford you."

"Do you hate me?" He asked, nibbling my ear with his teeth. I couldn't form words. I felt... I didn't know what I was feeling. A minute ago, I was sure I hated him but now that he's so close, so close that I could feel him breathing on my skin, I wasn't sure.

"Do you hate me?" He asked again, his voice a low growl in my ear.
"I...I..." I tried to form words but his lips left my ear and trailed kisses down my neck.
“I need words,” he whispered. “Tell me you hate me.”
My fingers tightened on his shirt as he continued.
“Say you hate me, and I’ll stop right now and walk away.”
What? There was a pause, I still hated him but I don't want him to stop..
“Don’t…and I won’t be responsible for what I do next.”

Lena Hartwell is a girl who has been bullied all her life for being plus size. After the sudden death of her father, her family falls deep into debt, leaving her with no choice but to accept the highest paying tutoring job she can find to support her Mom. The job turns out to be tutoring one of her bullies, the school’s hottest quarterback, Jace Dawson and despite hating him, she takes it the job because her family is at risk of losing everything they have left.

What happens when the hatred they have for each other slowly turns into something darker, when forced proximity turns every argument into temptation?
He is everything she is taught to fear.
She is the weakness he was taught to crush.
And when one forbidden moment shatters the boundary between hate and desire, will Lena be able to walk away from the boy who might ruin her life?