5355 Book(s) Related to my childhood alpha hates me

I remember that frost-covered train door like it was the last thing I ever saw. Because it was.
The escape spot I’d spent three years scraping together? My fiancée was sitting in it, wearing my parka. Her brother had my hiking boots on his feet. Her mother clutched the medical kit I’d carried six miles through ash-covered roads. And Caleb Frost—the ex she’d sworn was just “someone from the past”—stood in the seat that should have been mine, lifting my silver emergency flask in a toast.
While I froze out in the subzero ash storm, my lungs burning like they were filled with shards of broken glass, they turned their backs to me under the warm yellow light inside.
Then I woke up.
The calendar read May 3, 2041. Exactly one year before the Yellowstone chain eruption would turn the northern hemisphere into a frozen grave.
On the TV, experts were still downplaying the volcanic tremors, insisting there was no immediate risk to the public. My fiancée walked into the bedroom wearing one of my white shirts, carrying coffee in the blue mug she’d bought with my card. She reached for my forehead, asking if I’d had a bad dream.
None of them know I’ve already died once.
They’re still plotting how to make me pay for her brother’s failed investments, how to sneak texts to her old boyfriend, how to use me as their most obedient, most useful doormat until the world ends. I’ve sold the downtown office towers, mortgaged the lakefront house, bought the abandoned geothermal station no one wanted in the dead mountains, and signed a stack of engineering contracts they’ll never bother to read.
They still smile and thank me, tell me I’m the best fiancé in the world.
They have no idea who will be holding the key to the door, when the sky goes dark forever and the snow never stops falling.

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

I longed for family affection and true love all my life. I tried my best to get along with my stepbrother Karen, and wholeheartedly loved his friend Nolan. However, my sincerity was trampled into the mud. They conspired to hurt me, spread indecent content to ruin my life, and even broke the last relic left by my grandmother. I suffered countless humiliations and injuries, then chose to leave without saying goodbye. Years later, the two men were trapped in endless regret, but I had already walked out of the shadow of the past. Trust is gone, and so is my tenderness for them.

"We can only take one more person! Any heavier and we ALL go down!"

In the middle of a raging forest fire, my fiancé Carter Hayes was piloting a fuel-leaking helicopter, forced to choose between me and my cousin Lily Sterling.

He chose me.

Lily was left behind in the inferno. She burned.

I thought surviving made me lucky — until my parents slapped me across the face at my wedding. "Why wasn't it YOU who died?"

Turns out, I was never the one they wanted to save.

Carter married me, then spent five years making me wish I'd died in that fire instead. He and my parents worked together, systematically stripping away my dignity, my career, and every reason I had to keep living.

Three years into my depression, I jumped from the top floor of the Hayes estate.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself back before the fire — before the helicopter took off, before Carter made his choice.

This time, I spoke first. "Take Lily."

If they all wanted me dead, then I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.
In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.
Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.
This time, I said: "Take Niamh."
The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.
He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.
I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

On the night of my 28th birthday, my husband was stuck in the OR.
The man sitting across from me at dinner was his best friend, Ronan.
I got drunk. Half-asleep, I pulled a man who smelled exactly like Nate into my bed.
When morning broke, the truth did too—the man pinning me down was Ronan. He’d used my husband’s cologne.
"From the first time I saw you, I wanted to steal you from him."
Crying, I confessed everything to Nate over the phone. Dead silence for three seconds, then he hung up.
By the time I rushed home, Ronan was dragging two suspiciously heavy black suitcases out the door. And my husband... vanished off the face of the earth.

Book1 (Chapter 1~188, completed):
“Please...come back to me, be my Luna again, Charlotte,” Hayden said.
I sneered. “You don't even qualify to be my Omega. What makes you think I would want to be your Luna?”
“Then let me be your slave,” the shameless mate who had rejected me begged.

I had been claimed and married to my mate, Hayden for three years, but everything changed when his brother died. He began to ignore me and get closer to his brother’s widow, Sofia.
Everyone could see how much he favored Sofia over his own mate, me.
I turned a blind eye and endured it all because he was my destined mate and I loved him so much.
But Sofia framed me for causing her miscarriage and everyone blamed me for it, not to mention my mate.
My mate forced me to kneel and apologize to that bitch who had tried many times to drive wedges between me and my mate, with the help of his sister, Milla.
Hayden didn't even want to listen to my explanations. He gave me a choice - apologize or divorce.
I would never apologize for something I didn't do and thus I chose divorce.
No one knew I was actually the next-Alpha-in-line of one of the most powerful packs. After the divorce, I went back to my pack and take over my birthright - becoming a powerful Alpha and showing Hayden that he was nothing to me and my life was better off without him!


Book2( From chapter 189~287, completed):
As the Alpha princess, I enjoy all the glory and wealth, but my heart only yearns for freedom and love.
Much to my luck, I found my fated mate, Alpha Shawn Evander when I was nineteen.
He is one the most eligible bachelors currently, but my parents, especially Dad is so against our mateship, he keeps urging me to break up with Shawn.
Why should I break up with my fated mate? I love him too much and decided to make a bold choice - to marry him during my twentieth birthday party secretly.
So, it should be a happy day, right?
Nope.
Imagine my shock when I saw my bestie and Shawn together, betraying me during what was supposed to be our wedding day!
In the end, I didn’t get married to him and went to a bar to drown my sorrow when I stumbled across an Alpha who needed a mate to break his curse, and we decided to have a contract marriage between us.
But when I went home and sobered up, I realized who that Alpha was - Alpha Maximillian Vestvertine, also known as the most ruthless and arrogant Alpha of all.
However, I never ezxpect that this coldest Alpha would be so eagar to have me....

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

It was a rainy night, and I was running wildly down the road, with that man behind me chasing relentlessly, a malicious grin on his face. Desperately searching for a safe haven, the lit-up bookstore not far ahead seemed to be my only glimmer of hope.
But I tripped. I tried to scramble back to my feet quickly, yet the rain and the slippery ground sent me crashing down again. A sharp pain shot through my knees, while the sound of footsteps behind me grew louder and louder. I frantically reached out to grab the gravel in the muddy water; my fingertips had just brushed against a sharp-edged stone when a low sigh echoed in my ear: "You can't run away."
I turned my head to look. He was already standing right in front of me, rainwater dripping down his distorted face, his eyes glinting with a crazy and cruel light. He slowly knelt down, one hand clamping my chin tightly to force me to meet his gaze, and a blood-curdling laugh escaped his lips: "I've finally got you tonight. You will be mine forever."
Will Claire survive? And will she successfully escape the attacker's assault?
This is a novel of extraordinary imagination—step in and seek the thrill and the answer.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

"The clocks stopped at 12:01 AM and a burning sigil carved itself into my spine. That's when they came for me."

Thalira Moonwhisper thought she was ordinary—until her seventeenth birthday, when two men in dark cloaks appeared at her door.

"It's time. You're coming with us."

At Duskmoor Academy, four impossibly beautiful boys claim they've been waiting fifty years for her return.

"You've died four times and each time we failed to save you."

But Thalira doesn't remember dying. She doesn't remember them. Doesn't remember the ancient power inside her that can bend time itself.

Then her twin sister Luna arrives with a desperate warning:

"A serial killer is hunting our pack and he's been watching us since we were children."

The killer knows what Thalira really is. And he's not working alone.

"I've been waiting for you little phoenix. Your father sends his regards."

Four deaths. Four soul-bound boys. One twin she never knew. And an ancient prophecy that says the Moonwhisper sisters will either save the world or watch it burn.

"You're not just a Phoenix Soul Thalira. You're the weapon that ends everything."

Sometimes the person you're destined to save is yourself.

A tortured moan escaped him when I ground my hips into his once more.

Fuelled by the harshness of his kisses, I reached between us and slipped my hands into his pants. His cock was hot and thick against my palm.

“Fuck..” He groaned in my ear as I began twirling my thumb around the head of his length. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside your pussy.”


Sienna Adams, an orphaned Omega accustomed to living in the shadows, has always known her place at the bottom of pack hierarchy. When mysterious changes begin to surface, she hides the truth as long as she can, until exposure forces her to flee into dangerous Lycan territory.

There she encounters King Logan Draven, her fated mate, who rejects the bond, convinced she is too fragile for his world. One passionate night changes everything, but by morning he is gone, leaving Sienna heartbroken and determined to disappear.

Five years later, fate brings them together again. Sienna is no longer the vulnerable Omega he abandoned; she has grown stronger, independent, and fiercely protective of the secret she carries, their son. With war looming and hidden enemies rising, Logan realizes the gravity of his past choices.

Determined not to repeat his mistakes, he seeks redemption and a second chance at the family he never knew he had.

As old wounds clash with undeniable destiny, Sienna must decide whether to trust the man who once shattered her heart. Between power struggles, hidden bloodlines, and a love neither can escape, both must confront the past to protect their future, before fate tears them apart forever.

I got pregnant with our second child when my husband's ex-love returned.
I didn't take it as a threat until Christian took our firstborn Zeon to enjoy the romantic candlelight dinner with Celine. They were more like a happy family together while I was the third wheel in their lives.
This made me fear for the baby in my womb. I don't want to lose her either. So, I asked for a divorce and Christian didn't hold me back.
I thought, now all will be right, until, three years later, one stormy night, my ex-husband appeared at my door.


"Veronica, don't ever try to leave me again. You're MINE!"

Temptation has a way of slipping past every boundary and challenging even the strongest resolve. What appears controlled, familiar, and respectable on the surface often hides emotions that are far more complicated beneath. Hearts are drawn toward connections they know they should resist. Unexpected. Irresistible. Forbidden.
Inside this collection, you will find stories like these:
A lonely wife finding comfort in the one man she was never meant to fall for... her bodyguard.
A woman torn between loyalty and unexpected feelings for her husband's quiet, brooding brother.
A young employee caught in a life-changing connection with her powerful CEO.
A student navigating an undeniable attraction to a professor twice her age.
And many more stories where boundaries are tested and forbidden feelings refuse to fade.
Every story explores love, temptation, and impossible choices.
Emotional. Addictive. Impossible to forget.
Several forbidden romances.
One unforgettable collection.
Will you dare to turn the page?

Ice Meets Fire.

On the ice, dating or fucking a teammate is forbidden. At home, Tanakorn’s father has even crueler rules. Never date a man. Win every game. Show no weakness. Replace his dead brother, the perfect hockey star, or be disowned.
As the ice-cold captain of the Vanguard Tigers, Tanakorn follows every rule without fail. Until the arrogant new rookie Krittanai is assigned to him for personal training. What starts as pure hatred ignites into a dangerous all consuming desire neither can control.
Stolen locker room touches. Heated nights that break every rule. A reckless 14-day challenge that risks everything.
But others also want Tanakorn too, and jealousy is only the beginning. When violence erupts and Tanakorn’s traumatic past resurfaces, he finally lowers his walls for the one man who risked it all to protect him.
Until the devastating truth crashes down: the person he trusted most has been his enemy from the very first day.
Now, with his career, his team, his family, and his shattered heart on the line, Tanakorn must decide. Will this obsessive love break him for good, or destroy them both?
A dark MM enemies to lovers hockey romance packed with possessive passion, forbidden heat, and a love intense enough to burn everything down.

18+ (Mature content: explicit scenes, rough physicality, emotional manipulation, psychological tension, angst, sensitive topics including rape trauma by brother’s lover, survivor’s guilt, family neglect/abuse, death of a loved one, coming out trauma—reader discretion strongly advised

"I've always thought the human mind is its own heaven, and it's own hell. Until the day she came into my life. She is the precise point where my sanity fractures, and God help me, I never wanted to fall into the abyss more."

AN ISOLATED ISLAND. AN INCOMING WORLD WAR. AND TWO MONSTERS TIED TO THE SAME LEASH.

Miles away from human civilisation lies Sector 9—The White Room. It isn't a facility; it's a subterranean graveyard for the most dangerous anomalies on the planet. The apex killers. The unhinged. The biological nightmares too lethal for regular prisons. Here, the world's worst aren't just contained, they are brocken, experimented on, and forged into soulless weapons for the impending World War III.

Cleo is a ghost of a girl drowning in her own trauma, fighting every single day just to keep her internal demons at bay. Then she's tethered at the neck of Kenji Sato—the Island's infuriating class clown who could walk off the Island anytime he pleases, but chooses to stay. While Cleo fights to quiet the madness in her head, Kenji wants to meet her demons. He doesn't want her body or trust—he wants to rule her mind, and he'll tear everything apart just to kneel for her in her dark space.

[Stand Alone Book: I Dare You sequel]
( DISCLAIMER‼️: Not your regular Romance!!! 🔞 proceed with caution <3
You do not need to read book one to read this book but I advice you start with book 1 in order to understand the narrative better.)

Emerald thought that she and Jace Higginson were divorced. After five years, she returns to the country to collaborate with his company and eventually takes her revenge. What will she do when she sees a different Jace, making her uneasy whenever they meet? What would she do when her supposed ex-husband was still her husband because he didn't file the divorce? Will Emerald give Jace his rights to their son whom she conceived before she left?

"Siblings don't do this," he murmured, his thumb tracing my jaw. "So tell me, Nyra... does he know you the way I do? Does he know what you're capable of?"
Three years ago, I escaped the empire that raised me.
I left behind my father's world of blood, violence, and impossible choices, determined to become someone else.
Someone ordinary.
For three years, I believed I had succeeded.
Until my father was murdered.
One phone call drags me back to the compound I swore I would never see again. But grief quickly gives way to betrayal.
The man I planned to marry isn't who he claimed to be.
Old enemies are hiding in plain sight.
And everyone wants something my father left behind.
Everyone has lied to me.
Everyone... except Raze.
He was my first mistake.
My greatest weakness.
The one man I could never truly forget.
Three years ago, I walked away from him.
He waited 1,095 days.
Now, he's done waiting.
As secrets buried for years begin to surface, I'm forced to face the woman I once was, the weapon my father spent years creating.
I came back wanting answers.
Instead, I found blood, betrayal, and a man who still knows exactly how to unravel me.
Now I have only two choices:
Become the weapon I was raised to be...Or die pretending I was ever meant for a peaceful life.

Iris Quinn had a life worth having—until her father’s arrest stripped it all away.
The charges are a lie, orchestrated by the one family she’s always loathed: the Laurents. When Caesar Laurent offers a cold-blooded trade—her hand in marriage for her father's freedom, Iris realizes exactly who she’s dealing with.
The contract arrives before she's finished being angry. Two years minimum. No escape clause.
Caesar doesn't want her heart; he doesn't even pretend to. But he underestimated one thing: Iris Quinn has spent her life refusing to be controlled, and she isn't about to start now.
Caesar is used to winning. Iris is used to surviving. Neither expected the other to be quite this good at the game. She was supposed to be his prisoner—he wasn't supposed to lose sleep over her.

She was the fastest woman in America until one race with him destroyed everything she built. Now the only path back to the Olympics forces her to train, run and win beside the man she has hated for three years. But the closer they get, the more she realizes the crash that ruined her life was never an accident..

At the quarterly all-hands, during the raffle, my boyfriend won the company's two-person trip to Santorini.
The whole room was hooting, asking who he'd take.
I stood in the crowd, heart hammering.
The night before, in bed, I'd told him I was so tired, that I wanted to see the sea. He said once this busy stretch was over, he'd take me.
The old employee handbook said anyone dating someone from their own department had to report it to HR, and one of them had to transfer out. Neither of us wanted to leave, so we never went public.
So I said nothing. I just looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
He glanced in my direction.
Then he looked at someone else.
"Sophie. She really came through on that last project — I promised her a trip and never made good on it."
The hooting exploded.
Sophie got pushed into the middle by colleagues, blushing and laughing.
I stood where I was, mind a total blank.
All the way until after it broke up, when he chased me into the fire stairwell to explain.
"Listen to me. Her father is our biggest client. I'm right in the middle of my promotion review. I can't afford to offend her."
I turned and looked at him.
"Then go be with her. You two are a better fit."

My boyfriend had refused to sleep with me for years.

I thought he was shy, inexperienced, or hiding something painful.

Then I found his journal.

In it, Adrian Shaw wrote that my stepsister had warned him I would despise a virgin who didn't know how to please me.

He hated the thought of touching another woman, he said.

He loved me.

But he had decided to practice anyway—for my sake.

I still believed we could fix it, right up until I heard him agree to meet another woman in secret.

So I gave him one last chance to tell me the truth.

He lied, crossed the line he knew mattered most to me, and expected love to erase the choice.

By the time he understood what I had actually wanted, another man was already waiting at my door—a man who had heard my standard years ago and remembered every word.

I am the fearsome godfather of the Mafia.
For the woman I love, I sheathed my fangs and willingly became a despised commoner son-in-law.
In the horrific car accident, I shielded her with my own flesh and blood, and steel bars pierced through my chest.
Faced with the only life-saving machine in the entire hospital, she did not hesitate to save her lightly injured "white moonlight" brother-in-law, leaving me to die in the basement.
She thought that as long as I bled to death, she could naturally embrace perfect love.
But she didn't know—
Without my protection, her proud, century-old family wouldn't even last a month ...

In the apocalypse, during my escape, I awakened a useless superpower: reset .
My girlfriend, despising me as a burden who only creates junk, conspired with the mercenary captain to kick me into a horde of zombies.
She had planned everything, except for one thing.
My superpower wasn't "creating junk," but a conceptual-level divine skill !
A zombie bites my heart? Reset my body's state, instantly revived!
A rabid mutant attacks? Reset its hunger nerve, making it instantly kneel like a dog!
I single-handedly fought my way through the zombie horde and knocked on the shelter's door.
Beside the captain's shattered neck, I held my desperately begging ex-girlfriend upside down, smiling as I suspended her directly above the zombie horde.
"You were right, useless people should be zombie food. Now, it's your turn to prove your worth."
Then, I released her.

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

In a sleek design world split between polished appearances and buried cruelty, Mara Ellison has spent years trapped behind a voice no one wanted to hear. While her family rewrites her illness and her fiancé speaks over her in the name of love, stolen records, public humiliation, and old betrayals force her to reclaim her life. Quiet but cutting, this is a story of emotional abuse, identity theft, and hard-won selfhood—framed by rain-soaked streets, hospital corridors, cold glass conference rooms, and a woman finally stepping into the light with her own voice.

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

My childhood sweetheart, Henry, gave me a glass of milk the night before my Harvard interview.
I thought he cared.
Until I woke up with my waist-length hair hacked off and my brain drowning in sedatives.
Later, I found him at a cafe, laughing with the prettiest girl, Madison, in our class.
"You actually cut her hair? You're insane, Henry!" she giggled.
"Truth or dare, babe," I heard him. "She's fat anyway. But you need that Harvard spot, Madison."
The boy who promised to marry me traded my dream to impress someone else.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
Let him have his joke. I'm taking my life back.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

On my twenty-fourth birthday, my grandfather dropped the bombshell: I was an orphan.
After learning about my biological family, I decided to do something nice. I bought a limited-edition sports car as a gift for the father I had never met.
But at the dealership, I was publicly humiliated by my brother's mistress.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I called my brother.
When he arrived, it was only to back her up.
"This birthmark is ugly; let me help you get rid of it."
My own brother used a cigar to burn off the birthmark behind my ear and had my suffering broadcast on the mall's LED screen.
"Listen, if anyone dares to treat this woman’s injuries, I’ll have their license revoked in this city for good!"
But he didn’t know that the grandfather who raised me was someone no one in this city could even dream of looking up to.
When my grandfather arrived with a top-notch medical team and armed mercenaries, sealing off the entire building, my arrogant brother finally realized his mistake.

For years, I'd covered everything for my mate's family. The house, the car, the bags, the clothes.

So when they planned a family vacation, I thought I'd finally earned a spot.

Instead, they booked tickets for the whole family, plus Sloane, the childhood sweetheart who never quite left my mate's side. Even the dog had plans.

I was the one they expected to stay home and keep working. They called it a kindness.

And they expected me to cover the bill.

Fine. Let them go.

It would be the last trip of theirs I ever paid for.

I was an orphan, and a rare heart condition ate away at me for twenty years. The night I died in that cold hospital room, a reaper in a black robe came for me.

He told me if I crossed into a world of werewolves, into the Moonheart Pack, and made Estelle's family genuinely love me — Estelle being the real daughter who'd died a horrible death there — and if I rewrote the ending where they all went mad and tore each other apart, I'd get my health back for good. A second life.

For twenty years in that body, I loved every single one of them with everything I had.

My husband Rhett was the youngest Alpha the pack had ever had. I mentioned once that I wanted Alaskan wild berries, and he drove a thousand miles overnight to get them. My mother Sylvia, the pack's head healer, made me tonics herself every single day. My father Everett and my brother Callum spoiled me so much the whole pack envied me for it.

I thought I'd actually rewritten my fate. I thought I was the happiest person alive.

Until that night.

I'm carrying a berry pie I baked myself toward the council hall when I hear my mother's voice, flat and cold.

"Estelle's heart is finally in perfect condition. Now's the best time to take it."

"Her heart buys Lila's life. She should be grateful for it." Rhett says it like it's nothing. "Once we take the heart, I'll dissolve the mate bond myself."

So this is it. All that kindness was just to grow a healthy heart for their adopted girl.

Three years. I've spent three years trying to love them, to thaw them out, to change things.

Then let it end here.

Everyone thought the disfigured obsessive fan was stalking actress Sophia Brown.

No one believed I was the real Sophia.

My twin sister, Lily, slept beside my husband, Don Jason. She used my face to star in my movies. She even took over my social media accounts and posted under my name.

I wanted an explanation. But Jason only looked at my scarred face with cold disgust and said he had always thought Lily was me. He said he had fallen for her and couldn’t let her go.

Lily told me becoming an actress had been her dream since childhood. Now that my face was ruined and I could no longer act, why shouldn’t I let her have it?

The only person who stood by me was my agent, Nancy. And because of me, even she was dragged into hell.

This time, I stopped trying to prove who I was. I chose another way.

"I look better in the wedding dress. Your ugly fiancée can't compare to me, right?" "Of course, you do. You look way better."
Standing right outside the bridal fitting room, I watched my fiancé, Alexander Blackwell, hold his mistress in his arms.
The very wedding dress the woman wore was the custom-made designer gown meant for my own wedding next month.
For seven long years, I gave up my youth and poured everything into Alexander, turning him from a nobody into a tech billionaire.
He always thought I was just a helpless orphan who had nowhere else to go, blindly confident that I would never dare to leave him.
He had no idea that I was actually one of the heirs to the top-tier Sterling family in London.
When he finally realized what he had lost and desperately tried to beg for my return, I didn't look back.
Because I ran into Theodore Morrow—the city's most powerful, ruthless billionaire CEO, and the childhood fiancé whose heart I had broken when I called off our engagement years ago.

She wasn’t his weakness. She was his ruin, and he would bring the world to its knees before he let her go.


Kisarel thought she had it all figured out, until the night she caught her fiancé in bed with her cousin.
The same cousin who was engaged to her boss, the ruthless and untouchable billionaire, Mr. Oceans Stark.
Heartbroken, humiliated, and trapped on a business trip with the man her cousin was set to marry, Kisarel did the unthinkable – she begged her boss to make her forget her boyfriend's betrayal.
Oceans swore he didn’t touch his employees.
He swore his heart only belonged to a certain strange woman he'd been looking for, who saved his life so many years ago.
But the moment Kisarel kissed him, every resolution he made shattered.
And after their one sinful night together, Mr. Stark couldn't let Kisarel go. He began to do everything within his power to get her even more entangled in his web of obsession.
There were a thousand reasons she should have stayed away from him. She ignored every single one.
He knew every part of her belonged to someone else. But every part of him didn’t care.
What neither of them knows is that Kisarel was the woman he’s been searching for all along.
Now, Oceans is set to call off his wedding with Kisarel's cousin, and he expects Kisarel to also call off her wedding with her cheating fiancé.
Kisarel is now tangled in an obsession so hot that it might consume her whole. And Oceans is ready to drown his entire empire just to keep the woman he truly loves.

After the apocalypse, I built Dawnlight Base.

On an outside run, I died in an ambush—blast, fire, bullets. I watched my blood sink into the sand and thought it was over.

Then I opened my eyes five years later, living in a stranger’s body.

On a transport truck, I was locked in an iron cage with guns trained on us. The others told me who I was now: a bottom-tier gate guard, “cargo” being sold by Dawnlight to a mining camp.

They said after my death, my girlfriend took the command room, promoted her own people, broke up my old crew and stripped their weapons. Mismanagement followed. Mining rights were pawned off. Then they started selling the living.

I escaped and slipped back under the wall.

The quarantine corridor at the North Gate had collapsed and no one repaired it. A long line waited at the ration point, bowls filled with water-thin gruel.

And my girlfriend was signing papers—inviting an outside warlord into the city to “share governance.”

A week later, his convoy rolled through the gate. From the command building’s second-floor window, I flipped the signal switch.

The gate dropped behind them.

When gunfire erupted from every direction, they finally understood—

I was back.

The day before Thanksgiving, my husband, David, dragged his suitcase to the airport, claiming he was flying to Seattle to meet an important client.
My parents took my younger brother to Miami for a vacation and conveniently took my six-year-old daughter with them.
With the house empty, I picked up a last-minute catering shift that paid double the usual hourly rate. I needed the extra money to cover next month's rent and buy David a gift. So I temporarily filled in as a dinner server at a mansion in Beverly Hills.
After changing into a black-and-white uniform, I entered the employer's home through the service entrance.
The person in charge was the lady of the house—a young, beautiful blonde.
She had barely led me through the hallway toward the main room when I saw several workers hanging a massive engagement portrait on the central wall.
The man in the photograph, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, was my husband of six years.
David.
I froze where I stood, my mind going completely blank.
"Move it a little to the left. Yes, that's it. Straighten it!" the blonde girl called out to the workers.
Then she turned toward me.
"What? Can't take your eyes off it? That's my fiancé."
She looked me up and down, her voice dripping with condescending, fake sympathy.
"Working on a major holiday? I guess you're not married yet."
I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "I am. But I'll be a widow very soon."

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

"Will you be my mate?"

Three days after my husband's funeral, his best friend whispered those words to me.

I told myself it was a transaction.

My freedom for his protection. My heart for my survival.


I was wrong.

Fenric Silvermane was not a man who made transactions.

He was a man who took what he wanted.

And he wanted me.

He secured my place among the nobles, learned every little thing I loved, and then—

Claimed me as his Luna before the entire kingdom, with the Alpha King as witness.

No warning.

No choice.

He wove me into his world so completely, so deliberately—

Until I had nowhere left to run.

Until I stopped reaching for the memory of the man I had once called my husband.


The day of the ceremony arrived.

The great hall doors swung open, and I saw Fenric waiting at the altar, his ice-blue eyes fixed on mine.

I took a breath.

I walked toward him.

Then the doors opened again.

And the man who was supposed to be dead and buried on a distant battlefield—

stepped inside.


Soren was alive.

And his best friend had known all along.

"Ahhhh," I moaned into the pillow, not wanting the neighbors to hear as they would immediately tell Mom about it.
"Ahhhh," this time it came out louder as I felt a shockwave of ectasy and satisification go through my body. This was the best feeling ever.
Suddenly, a gentle night breeze blew through my open window, My curtains fluttered open, and I looked up to find myself face to face with those breathtaking green eyes, they were like two emeralds glittering from his dark room, it was like they could see right through my soul, Aamon Blackwood!!!
My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met across the distance. I felt a wave of panic wash over me.
Had he seen everything? I tried to sit up, to cover myself, but it was too late.
My bully, step brother had just seen me pleasuring myself! Gosh!


Haven is a simple wolf human hybrid girl living her simple life, she likes to publish erotic novel online under a hidden name. She secretly has been crushing on the ice hockey captain Ryder since they were in highschool but she has never gathered the guys to tell him.
One day, her annoying stepbrother, Aamon discovers her secret and blackmails her into becoming his "servant". Will they keep their relationship strictly just slave and master? Or will they break all boundaries and fall into temptation?

"You took my wedding dress for my stepsister?"
My voice was ice as I stared at the man I had loved for six years—the man I had saved with my own blood, drop by drop, through years of his illness.
Atlas Brooks couldn't meet my eyes.
"She's dying, Mandy. Susie's last wish is to marry me."
Six years of devotion. Endless blood donations. And this is what I get in return?
The man I saved wants to trade me for the sister who destroyed my family.
Let him. I'm done fighting for someone who never fought for me.
But when I tried to walk away, Atlas caught my wrist.
"After she's gone," he whispered, "we can still be together. Just... let her have this."
The dress. The wedding. The man. Let her have everything.
I'm not waiting around as anyone's second choice. Not anymore.
I'm ready to say goodbye to everything.
I thought I was leaving love behind forever.
I didn't know that at my stolen wedding, I was about to find it.

My wife never knew what I really did. She only knew I was gone most of the year and money hit our account every month.

The day she cheated, she rummaged through my drawer, found an eagle-shaped brooch, and gifted it to her lover like a flashy accessory. “It’s worthless,” she said. “Perfect with a suit.” I warned her again and again to bring it back. She called me annoying, powered off her phone, and blocked me everywhere.

She didn’t know I’m a cleaner—the kind who handles quiet jobs—and that brooch isn’t jewelry. It’s an organization badge, a mark that turns you into a target the moment it appears in public.

That night, the killers came. The ballroom was sealed. She trembled under a table while her lover shoved her out to take the bullets.

When a cold gun barrel pressed to her temple and someone asked, “Who does the brooch belong to?”

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

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

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

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

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

I used to be the happiest food-truck girl on the streets of Brooklyn. Spencer Grant said he loved the warmth and down-to-earth spark I carried with me.
But over the six years of our marriage, he wrapped me layer by layer in Michelin-starred rules and fussy French culinary etiquette, turning me into a flawless, cold, untouchable chef.
Six years later, he asked me for a divorce because of a girl who ran a roadside taco stand.
He said my food was perfect but suffocating, while that girl made him feel alive again.
The way his eyes lit up when he talked about her was exactly how he'd looked at me when we'd first met six years ago.
In that moment, I knew our marriage was over.