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“Sidd, if you leave me here, I won’t ever forgive you,” I declared, glaring at him. “I will hold you responsible for anything that happens to me.

"Remember, you made me stay here till late," I stated, even though I was scared, holding him responsible for anything that might happen to me.“I don’t need your forgiveness, Rani,” he snarled. “Holding me responsible for anything bad that happens to you is what enemies do,” he declared and moved off. From hatred to love, it created a bond between Rani and Sidd.

Not without drastic challenges that are meant to separate them forever. Can they withstand the challenges and keep their love strong, or will they allow hatred to take over and be separated forever?

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT‼️
This story contains themes of BDSM, including elements of dominance and submission, bondage, name-calling kinks (such as terms like "whore"), consensual rough play, and some scenes that involve violence. If these topics could be triggering or uncomfortable for you, I strongly recommend proceeding with caution or choosing a different story.

But if you're into all this delicious chaos—welcome, and get ready for the ride of your life. Things are about to get wild. Enjoy! 😉

Why was I thinking about his lips? Was I really that starved for attention?

I couldn't tear my eyes away. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the sheer need for something to distract me. But it wasn't just his lips. His jaw was sharp, the muscles of his neck visible beneath the fabric of his shirt. He looked like someone who could make me forget everything.

His voice broke through my thoughts. "Something wrong?"
I blinked, shaking my head, forcing my eyes to pull away from him. "No. Nothing."

I felt his gaze still on me, making me feel like he could see right through all the bullshit I was trying to wear. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the heartbreak, or the way he looked at me, but suddenly it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like something I needed.

Without thinking, I stood, my body moving before my mind could catch up. My heart raced as I stepped closer to him, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He was surprised, but I didn't care.
I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to me, and pressed my lips to his.

Summer vacation is finally here, and Olivia has big plans! Unfortunately, news of Olivia and Luca’s success in finding one of the Seven Supreme Hallows at the Holy Draconic Spring of Tritonis has reached the king of Shutora, and before the two can even leave the school grounds, a royal summons arrives. Olivia, Eldraco, and Luca are going to the capital! The search for the Seven Supreme Hallows continues, and though the royal edict seems like it will spell doom for their summer vacation, the eternally optimistic Olivia comes up with a great idea to make their journey as fun as it can be!

He made one mistake—he chose revenge instead of mercy.

Luna’s sharp tongue and careless drunken words should have been harmless. Instead, they mark her as a target for Daimen Blackwell, a billionaire who doesn’t forgive and never forgets.

What begins as punishment turns into possession when he forces her into a contract that binds her to him as his mistress—his rules, his house, his bed.

Luna is naïve in love but not in spirit, and her defiance slowly becomes the one thing Daimen can’t control. Somewhere between power plays and stolen moments, he wins her heart—only to destroy it.

When Daimen betrays her, Luna leaves with nothing but shattered trust. And that’s when he discovers the truth: she is the woman he has been searching for all his life.

This time, the billionaire has nothing left to bargain with.
Only regret. Only groveling. And the hope that love might survive the damage he caused.

“Are you not… mad at me?” I asked breathlessly. “That I’m a girl?”

He gripped both sides of my arms. His eyes scanned my face as he cupped both sides of my face tightly between his hands. “I don’t care… I don’t care that you lied… I love you either way,” he panted and pressed his lips against mine.

My hockey stick landed against the ice with a loud clank as I began to kiss him back.

He didn’t hate me anymore.

William didn’t hate me anymore!!


Daphne Sinclair is an obsessed fan of a hockey player, William Hollander. When William suddenly announces that he would quit hockey after high school, Daphne gets a crazy idea.

She would attend William’s high school, dressed like a boy, and try to get into the school’s hockey team. This way she would be close to William and try to get him to keep playing.

Will Daphne’s plan work?

Will she get into the team, or will the school figure out that she is a woman and send her away before she even gets a chance to carry out her plan?

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, restrictions lifted."

In the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, I quit my job in New York and dragged my suitcase back to Boston.
But I punched in the door code three times, and it was wrong all three times.
The door opened from the inside.
It was my best friend, Paige Monroe.
She was wearing a man's white dress shirt. The hem barely reached the tops of her thighs.
I recognized that shirt. It was the one I'd given Nathan last Christmas.

To get the only targeted drug for my sister's sudden rare disease flare-up, I knelt before the city's elites in a grease-stained janitor's uniform and barked like a dog. My wife in name only glared at me with absolute disgust, cursing that I was worse than a dog. The chaebol heir even crushed the medicine bottle under his shoe, forcing me into a "no fighting back" death match in the underground black market.

Enduring the agony of broken bones, I survived ten brutal rounds, only to be handed swapped poison and witness a monstrous fire engulf the clinic.

Watching my sister's life-support indicators gradually fade in the sea of flames, and looking at the female doctor whose legs were shattered while trying to protect her, I shed no tears.

I calmly pulled a glass shard from my ribs and took out the black satellite communicator I had kept hidden and sealed away for three years.

"Command received, Supreme Commander."

Tonight, I will make the chaebols of this city completely vanish from the face of the earth.

In my past life, my husband Pietro locked me in a dark basement and tortured me to death. My only crime? I couldn't get pregnant.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the family’s arranged marriage banquet.
Pietro was an illegitimate son, desperate to secure his status through marriage. In my previous life, he chose me—the Godfather's daughter. But this time, he publicly wrapped his arm around my ambitious stepsister, Livia.
Livia had always envied my status. She craved power and desperately wanted to be the Don's wife. Seeing them together, I knew instantly: Pietro had been reborn, too.
Don Ettore laid down the law: Whoever sired a son first would inherit Castel City.
My sister thought she had just been handed a crown.
But she didn't know the truth. The barren one... was Pietro.

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Kendrick, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope.
“Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Elena Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate.
“If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.”
He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?”
Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months.

News broke that a classmate had fallen from a building. The forensic assessment said it was homicide. Someone claimed they’d seen the killer: a young girl in a red coat.
The police came to our home. My stepsister shoved me forward. Mom said, “My daughter owns a red coat and she wasn’t at home yesterday.”

In my past life, I stood on the execution platform, watching the entire city—brainwashed by the Saintess—smile as they willingly degenerated into ghouls.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to exactly one month ago.

I smashed the knight's sword that symbolized my honor. Dragging a high-tier ghoul into my basement, I slashed my left wrist open with a heavy blade.

Stripping away all the Holy Light protecting my body, I brutally shoved my bleeding wrist straight into the ghoul's gaping maw.

My bones let out muffled, explosive cracking sounds as they were eroded by the tyrannical ghoul virus. I crushed the reinforced steel bedframe out of shape with my bare hands.

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.

"She's wolfless. She's worthless. She's not fit to be my Luna."
Those were the last words her fated mate spoke before claiming another woman as his Luna—after Thalia sacrificed her own wolf in a forbidden blood ritual to save his life.
Broken and abandoned, Thalia thought she had lost everything.
But the Moon Goddess had other plans.
Her wolf didn't die that night.
It split.
Now, three powerful Alphas are bound to the pieces of her broken soul:
The Pack Healer, whose gentle touch awakens a desire she can't deny.
The Rogue Alpha, who would burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again.
And the mate who rejected her, now on his knees begging for forgiveness.
As ancient magic awakens and rival packs close in, Thalia must uncover the truth behind her shattered wolf before it destroys everything.
And suddenly the question isn't who she belongs to anymore...

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?

“I know that scent. Tell me who you really are.”

Sold to a mysterious manor to pay off her father’s debts, Calla is only human—or so everyone believes.

The manor belongs to four powerful Alphas, men feared by the entire wolf kingdom. She is warned to keep her distance, obey the rules, and never venture into forbidden territory.

But the moment Alpha Damien catches her scent, his control begins to crumble. Alpha Julien soon follows, his blue eyes burning with questions she cannot answer.

Calla has no wolf blood, no powerful family, and no idea why these dangerous men react to her as if she is something they have been searching for.

Her mother once warned her to hide her scent. Now, the secret she buried may ignite a war between wolves and vampires.

What is Calla really hiding—and what will the four Alphas do when they discover the truth?

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.

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.

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 have been with Alpha Ashton for twelve years.
Seven years ago, I almost lost my ability to bear children while saving him.
Finally pregnant, he said, "The child is just a burden, you should get rid of it."
For all these years, he believed I was an orphan, with no one to rely on.
"Her? She’s just an orphan, useless and can’t even take care of herself."
While pregnant, Alpha made me clean up the toys and intimate items he shared with his mistress. I was devastated.
I immediately contacted another male wolf. I was leaving.
"So," he said, "do you think this child looks more like you, or like me?"

“You’re not a daughter of this family,” my mother hissed in the dim light, her eyes burning with fury. “If you can’t support your sister Francesca, then get out.”
I should have seen it coming. In the Moretti family, family means everything—unless you're me. Adriana Moretti, the disappointment. My perfect sister, Francesca Moretti, got all the love, the titles, and even my fiancé, Salvatore Romano. And me? I got an engagement ceremony that no one bothered to show up to. Not even the man who once swore he'd always be mine.
That night, I ran.
Now, I've built a new life in the Genoa mafia, where power is the only rule that matters. I’ve learned to fight, to lead, and to make my enemies kneel with nothing more than a look. But when I receive a message saying that Francesca is on the brink of death and the family demands I come back…

Three months into their marriage, Stella Dawson had been diligently playing the role of a delicate, spoiled flower—pushing every button she could—until she finally drove the CEO to the brink of madness.
Alexander Sterling coldly tossed the divorce papers at her. "Let's get divorced."
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but inwardly, she was grinning from ear to ear. Good riddance to being the CEO's wife! I'm going back to being the richest woman alive!
Alexander was certain he’d never regret his decision.
That is, until he saw his ex-wife surrounded by admirers, amassing wealth, and dominating every industry she touched. Power players from all fields bowed before her, declaring, "Little sister, just say the word, and we’ll take down anyone who dares mess with you!"
Swallowing his pride, Alexander squeezed his way into the crowd of handsome men. "Sweetheart, I take it back. Let’s get back together."

In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.


“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

Warning: Contains strong language, smuts, abuse and some really explicit content, please read at your risk. "Let go of me…" Arabella said. She grimaced, shaking her head. "Do you think I would let you go so easily?" He questioned, then tutted. Sandro's nostrils flared as he sniffed her hair wrapped in his hands, Vanilla and Strawberry. The innocent yet naughty scent he remembered her with. "That would never happen, Cara Mia." Arabella gasped as Sandro pressed his body into hers. She moved to shove him away but he grasped her hands and pinned them above her head before pointing the gun at her temple. Arabella shut her eyes tightly as the gun cocked. She inhaled and bit her tongue whilst saying her last prayer inwardly. She wanted to run far away from him. Away from the surface of the earth if possible. But she was certain no matter how far she went, he was going to find her. ------------------------------------- Arabella's life took a u-turn after falling into her enemy's hand. She should feel nothing for him, however. He made her lose all her senses, even her clothes. At the mercy of her foe, she discovers some secrets about him and wishes to unravel more, but got what she didn't bargain for. Alessandro, an Alpha werewolf assuming the identity of a mafia Lord. He was the most wanted criminal in COOAN, and his name incites fear in all werewolves' packs. He was a man fighting his demons and needs a saviour before he drowns. After a traumatic childhood event that left him scarred, Blaze often kept to himself and trusted no one until he met Arabella, whom he believed was the perfect mate sent to him by the moon's goddess. However, she was taken. The powerful urge to save her from her...

"What is love!? Carmen did you just mention that!?" With his speaking of rage and burning in anger; he asked.

"Yes... I have always do— I love you" she mouthed with her words stressed.

"You can try and ignore me if you can... Only if you know how eager I am and how badly I want to tame you". With those promising words from her which left a dark creepy smile on her face; she walked out.

"Love did she just call it? Did she think I will fall for that shit? If only she knew how much love is a weakness to every man". He muttered to himself as he sat down worriedly.

As a mafia boss, he must not have compassion nor can he fall in love.

She is the only one who have that fits to talks bravely to him. Even with his powers, his strength have it's limitations as it went down when he is before her.

He's fearless,
Dangerous,
And kills without a sparing a second to think!
He kills to live and lives to kill!
The smell of blood is what he enjoy most!!!

The dangerous man never forgives anyone even if it is blood—"fuck blood relatives when it comes to the smell of blood!"

He's not just all about dangers but handsome! He's a demigod and every ladies hopes for just a nightstand with him.

A girl sold to him by ruthless father and stepmother changed everything...

*She's annoying
*She's irresistible
*She's hot
*She's the goddess of beauty

What follows when she do the undo—...

She's a spy sent to monitor him, find his weakness and win his heart, will she accomplish that? Won't she fall in love in the process? What if the devil finds out?

My wife was sleeping with her assistant.

I didn’t confront her. I was in the middle of a critical funding round and about to take over as CEO, and I couldn’t afford to act on emotion.

Then my PI told me the truth: the affair was only the beginning.

On her birthday night, she planned to drug me, send my secretary into my room, and frame me for cheating—maybe even saddle me with a fake child scandal.

If it worked, my CEO promotion would be dead, the funding would collapse, and my reputation would be finished.

She thought the setup was flawless.

Too bad she forgot one thing:

I’m not good at explaining myself. I’m good at letting people walk straight into the trap I built for them.

So that night, the man carried into the room wasn’t me.

It was her lover.

I’m a werewolf.

Three months ago, I got involved in a back-alley “not my problem”—a man held a knife to a woman clutching her child. I rushed him and tore his throat out with my teeth.

Now the police are hunting me. My pack can’t protect me. The only option left is to slip out of the country.

The fixer at the meet hands me a bottle of “calming meds,” says it’ll get me through the checkpoints.

I smell the drugs anyway. I drink it.

When I wake up, my hands are tied behind my back inside a sealed metal cargo truck. Someone beside me is crying. Someone else is shaking.

That’s when I realize I’ve been sold into a trafficking ring. They slap a number tag on me, lock me in a steel cage, and wait for dawn to ship us out.

A guard cracks my face with a rifle stock—sure I’m just another desperate man trying to disappear.

He has no idea a cage can’t hold a werewolf.

Especially not tonight—under a full moon.

I’m a retired Special Forces soldier. After I got out, I handled problems people didn’t want on paper, and I’ve seen enough dirty work to last a lifetime.

When I finally retired for real, I wanted a normal life.

So I came back to the orphanage where I grew up, planning to adopt a quiet seven-year-old boy I’d kept in touch with for years.

But the moment I arrived, I was told he’d already been “adopted.”

I called the family to make sure he was safe. On the line he said, “I’m fine.”
Then I heard it—fingernails tapping in a pattern: three short, three long, three short.

The distress signal I had taught him.

I stormed into the director’s office and forced the truth out: the adoption papers were fake. He wasn’t taken into a home. He was sold.

They think I’m just a returning orphanage worker.
They have no idea what I’ve done out there—and no idea I’m very good at cleaning up this kind of mess.

I endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

At Nico's funeral, the screen of the phone in my hand suddenly lit up, and I accidentally answered a FaceTime call from the Dario Falcone of three years ago.
On the screen, he was still wearing that faded leather jacket, the scar above his brow left from protecting me.
He was still a penniless bodyguard, clutching my ultrasound report with barely contained excitement, his eyes shining:
"Vittoria, isn't our baby adorable?"
"Do you think it's a strong little boy or a beautiful little girl?"
"No matter who he takes after, I'll protect him with my life."
I knelt on the cold floor, staring silently at him.
The Dario from three years ago sensed that something was wrong. The smile slowly froze on his face.
The next second, the heavy church doors were kicked open.
The priest's prayer came to an abrupt stop.
The Dario of three years later, the terrifying Mafia Don, strode inside.
His tailored suit was immaculate, while the bodyguards behind him roughly knocked over the wreaths lining the aisle.
He stopped in front of me, his voice cold and utterly emotionless.
"Vittoria, you actually staged a fake funeral for your own son just to get revenge on Colette. You really are sick."
I didn't look up or acknowledge his fury. I simply stared at the bodyguard on the screen from three years ago, the one who looked utterly bewildered.
Then, numb, I turned the phone around and pointed it at the tiny white coffin in the center of the hall.
Looking at the screen, I answered the man's question from three years ago.
"A boy. He was adorable, and he had eyes just like yours."
"But he's already dead."

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.

In their eyes, I’m a limping janitor who can’t even hold a cup of hot coffee steady.
The head of security can grind his polished boot on my fingers whenever he wants. The gorgeous CEO looks at me with pure disgust for a coward. Even the front desk girl can yell at me as she pleases.
I sprawl on the carpet like an old dog—stuttering, shrinking, obedient.
But they don’t know that if I wanted to, snapping their necks would take only 0.6 seconds.
Three years ago, I was the Seventh Fleet’s sharpest one-man operator. To uncover a cross-border money-laundering network worth tens of billions, I faked my death and lay low inside this filthy corporate empire, mopping floors for three years.
Until today—when that arrogant European mafia titan dropped to his knees in front of my dirty mop bucket, in full view of the entire company.
That’s when I knew.
Three years of disguise were finally about to be torn apart.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

It was my fourth time putting on a wedding dress.

To protect myself against my own parents, I hired a ten-man security detail.

I specifically chose the most isolated chapel in the suburbs.

Because at my first three weddings, they acted like absolute maniacs—destroying my rings and making me a complete laughingstock in front of everyone.

I just couldn't understand what kind of parents would do such a thing.

This time, I actually thought I could finally marry Liam in peace.

Until the bridal suite door was kicked open.

And my dad, once again, snatched my diamond ring away.

My husband is the heir to the oldest werewolf family in London. He is also my fated mate.
He has never once acknowledged me.
While he was on the phone with his little assistant, I told him I'd filed for divorce.
He didn't even turn around. "Fine. Do whatever you want."
So I did.
It wasn't until my daughter and I had vanished from London completely that he finally panicked.
Three months later, he got down on his knees on a cobbled street in Bath and begged me to come home.
My six-year-old daughter planted herself in front of me and stared coldly at her own father. "You're a bad man. Stay away from my mum! You don't get to be my dad!"

Three years after my first love, a Mafia Don, handed me over to his enemies, he finally came to “rescue” me.
Not out of guilt—but because his daughter needed my blood.

Don Silas held me and cried as if his heart were breaking, saying he had thought of me every day.
How ridiculous—his wife Serena stood beside him, and behind them was their daughter, Ava.

I pretended to be moved.
Pretended I still loved him.
Pretended I was willing to be his daughter’s blood donor… and his second wife.

Only one person knew I was acting.
Underboss Liam—the only one who ever managed to get messages to me during those three years of captivity.

“I’ll find a way to get you out.” he said.

But on the day we planned to escape, the Gravoni family—the very people who had imprisoned me—arrived.

Their Don, Joe, looked at me with deep remorse.
“Vera, I’m sorry. Back then, I didn’t know… you were my late sister’s daughter.”

Now both families want me.

But all I want… is to leave alive.

After being poisoned by her foster sister for years—fed weight-gain hormones disguised as vitamins—Chloe Harrison lost 90 pounds and clawed her way back from rock bottom.
Her cruel foster sister Mia even tricked her into a humiliating one-night stand with what she called "a fat, balding stranger." But that night was anything but shameful—it was unforgettable.
Now Mia has one final insult: marry the "pathetic cripple" Mia publicly rejected—a bankrupt, wheelchair-bound recluse named Julian Astor.
However, everything changes when Chloe walks into that conference room. Julian isn’t a broken old man—he’s six-foot-three of raw power in a Tom Ford suit, a devastatingly possessive billionaire CEO who makes her forget how to breathe.
All of a sudden, her contract marriage turns into something dangerously real. Julian doesn’t just want her on paper—he wants to worship every curve, trace every scar, and take her every single night.
Why does his touch feel so hauntingly familiar? And why does he look at her like he’s been searching for her since that rainy night?
A ruthless billionaire couldn’t possibly be obsessed with the woman he was never supposed to keep… could he?

A cheating husband. A burning curse. One forbidden night with a stranger who isn’t a stranger at all.
When Rose DeLuca’s world falls apart, the man who saves her turns out to be the Alpha she was destined for....and the billionaire who’s ready to claim everything, including her.

18+ WARNING: This novel contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content, betrayal, and dark romance.

Allene is a woman who has sat in rooms with presidents, negotiated ceasefires between packs that have been at war for centuries, and buried three men who threatened the peace her father spent his life building. Nobody calls her dangerous to her face. They just make sure not to cross her. She is the human face of the most important treaty in existence — the fifty year agreement that keeps wolves and mankind from open war. She knows every clause, every consequence, every line that cannot be crossed.
The most absolute of all of them is the bond. No mating between human and wolf. Ever. The punishment is death for both parties. She helped write the updated clause herself. So when the Alpha of the oldest pack on earth looks at her across a peace summit and every wolf in the room goes completely still — she feels it the same moment he does and understands immediately exactly how much trouble she is in.
Caelen doesn't approach her. Doesn't speak to her. But none of them can deny the buds sprouting and growing between the two of them.
What they don't know yet is that the bond didn't activate by accident. Three generations back her bloodline stopped being purely human. Her great grandmother was a wolf who chose humanity and had the shift surgically severed, which meant she wasn't exactly who she thought she was.
No matter how much they tried to keep the secret, the truth always had a way of resurfacing and when this dangerous truth threatened to take away everything they had, Allene had no other choice but to fight to save her heart.
And when she chose to burn everything down, she waited to see if Caelen would rise from the ash with her.

"You're using the embryo that you and Serena made and letting Wendy think that the children she's carrying are hers! Damn, man.I can't believe that you could do something like that to your wife." Adrian's friend said, sounding shocked.
"She deserves it," Adrian replied, followed by his friend's laughter. "She's the reason why Serena broke up with me back then."
What would you do if your husband used your womb to have children with his ex?
Wendy sacrificed everything for her marriage. She endured endless hormone shots, cruel whispers, and quiet humiliation, all to give her husband the children he wanted. When the IVF finally succeeded, she believed she had saved her marriage.
Until the day she overheard the truth. The twins she had fought so hard to carry were never meant to be hers. Her husband never wanted a child with her. She was nothing more than a surrogate in her own marriage.
Determined to find answers, Wendy stormed into the hospital. Fate delivered a twist no one could have seen coming: her husband was severely infertile. The IVF had failed. The babies growing inside her belonged to another man.
Wendy walked away with no tears and no second chances.
But Adrian, the man who once betrayed her, came begging for reconciliation.
"Wendy, we can fix this. We can start over."
Too late.
Because somewhere in the same city, Julian Harrington, the untouchable, relentless, and enigmatic CEO who rules the city's business empire, is searching for the mother of his twins.

Before they threw me into that dungeon, I never imagined my stepsister and fiancé were capable of betrayal.

Reality slapped me hard across the face.

Daniel and Lyanna fucked right in front of me just to rub it in. My grandfather died of a heart attack after I went missing. My uncle was framed and locked away. My fortune was stolen, and my body was doused in boiling fish glue. Every single one of these disasters came down to one thing: I trusted the wrong people.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back three years in the past—Christmas Eve. Standing before me was Milos, devastatingly handsome, radiating the kind of raw masculine energy that made it impossible to look away. I made my decision on the spot: I was going to hold on to this man for dear life and make it up to him for every wrong I'd done.

What followed was a revenge tour against Daniel and Lyanna—and along the way, I happened to crush a few worthless scumbags and pull a few powerful figures out of the fire.

The Godfather of the Italian Mafia: "Audrey is my chosen successor."

The Patriarch of a top-tier noble house: "Audrey is the future head of this family."

A reigning King, overruling every objection: "Audrey is the child of my one true love—and she is my heir."

Milos pinned me against the wall, one hand tight around my waist, his jaw clenched as he growled: "Wife. Tell me the truth. How many secret identities do you actually have?"

I panicked and kissed him to shut him up. "Not that many," I managed. "Just... a hundred or so."

The night before move-in, Vivian Owens’ housing collapses and her best friends betray her.

Her only lifeline? Crashing with her brother and his roommate —
Elias “Carter” Carter, the tattooed star point guard every girl wants.

One accidental aphrodisiac cookie night turns her into his willing little sub as he commands her

“Don’t stop, My Little Bubbles.”

But Carter’s gang past , a situationship with her own reconciled ex-best friend Kelly , draft pressure, and his own demons rip them apart again and again. Two pregnancies. Two brutal runaways. A jealous rival doctor who becomes a monster. Readers will scream at Carter, cry for him, and beg for more.

Some love don’t just break hearts — they start wars on and off the court.