213 Book(s) Related to I

A divorce should have been enough to end us.

But the moment I step back into New York, Xander Knight reminds me exactly who he is — ruthless, relentless, and still my husband.
He says I’m still his.
Still his wife.
Still the woman he would burn the world to keep.

But the past won’t stay buried.
His mother wants me gone.
His best friend wants me ruined.
And his cousin is hiding a secret that could shatter everything — the truth about the son Xander doesn’t know is his.

Now I’m trapped between the man I once loved, the man who helped me survive, and the dangerous truth that could destroy us all.

Catastrophe brought them together.

Leandro's from his unfaithful fiancee. The woman whom he thought was different from all the women who have come and gone in his life has no difference at all. Worst than all of them.

And Lorianne is from the tragedy. Her excited vacation turned into a nightmare when the cruise ship she was boarded waved goodbye from the surface of the ocean.

Alex Rivera has always been the quiet, dependable one—the best friend who stays in the shadows while everyone else shines. For years, he’s hidden his love for his best friend, Ethan Carter, watching him date one woman after another, smiling and wishing him well while his own heart breaks in silence.

When Alex’s family arranges a marriage with Sophia Martinez, a kind and intelligent woman, Alex decides it’s time to let go of his impossible dreams. But on the night before the wedding, Ethan shows up at his door, his eyes filled with anguish. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling Alex into his arms. “But I love you.”

Now, Alex is torn between the life he’s accepted and the love he’s always wanted. As secrets unravel and emotions run high, Alex must decide whether to follow his heart or honor the expectations of his family. In a world where love isn’t always enough, can Alex and Ethan find a way to be together, or will the weight of tradition tear them apart?

She has lived hundreds of lives and each one ended horribly.
He, once her companion, cannot forget her beyond time.
She, kidnapped into a world unknown to her, tries everything to get back home. But what are these dreams?

[…] Stones are thrown at dirty mutts… Rats are burned… […]

Immerse yourself in the world of Athaerion.

Five years ago, Elena overheard the ambiguous whispers between her husband Arthur and his first love. In that split second, all her love for him crumbled to dust. She left the country with her pregnant belly, vowing never to have any connection with this man again.​
Five years later, Elena returns to her home country with her twins Liam and Luna—now a world-renowned top doctor. Unexpectedly, she finds herself entangled with Arthur once more. His eyes reddening with emotion, he grabs her abruptly and pleads, "Elena, I was truly wrong. This time, I will never let you get hurt again."

I was raised underground, hiding from the monsters who slaughtered my pack. The Blue Moon crest is the only thing I see every night before I close my eyes. Revenge is my only purpose on earth.
And then, I find him. Alpha Lucian of the Blue Moon Pack. The man who rejected me the moment he thought I was human. My mate. My enemy.
But fate twists crueller when I start my revenge. His Enforcer, Darius, carries the other half of my soul and the darker side of my bloodline. He knows how I am, but worse, he knows what I want.
In Blue Moon Park, nothing is as it seems. And if I don't kill the Alpha first, my forbidden second mate will kill me.

At the wedding, my husband Shier abandoned me and left with my sister Wendy.
I witnessed Shier and Wendy having sex in bed.
My body suddenly began to heat up.
When I turned around, I ran into Shier's uncle, Hodgson.
Hodgson said: "Nicole, you don't look well. Are you feeling hot? I can help you."
Wendy had drugged the wine she gave me, and my body desperately craved a man.
I pushed Hodgson away: "Get away from me!"
How could I sex with Shier's uncle?
The sounds of Shier and Wendy having sex came again, and I finally broke down.
Under Hodgson's temptation, I had sex with him.
He took my virginity.
After the wedding, I wanted to completely cut ties with Hodgson, but I didn't realize I had provoked a dangerous man.
For the sake of my adoptive mother, I had no choice but to continue being Shier's fiancée.
On the other hand, Hodgson kept forcing me to have sex with him.
Hodgson, this man is the heir of the Hall family and the richest man in Astoria.
At the same time, he is also a madman, a madman who kills without blinking an eye.
I struggled in my relationship with Hodgson, doing everything I could to escape from him.
Until one day, news came of Hodgson's death.
I regretted it. I finally realized that I loved this man, but it was too late...

"And now, he's certain your life is over because he kicked you out. They're probably already placing bets on how long it will take for you to bow and beg at their feet to take you back. But..." He said coldly.

"But..." I breathed.

"Imagine suddenly returning with a husband so wealthy he makes them look like paupers. Not only is he filthy rich, but he's hopelessly in love with you, spoiling you rotten. Imagine their shock, their anger, and your satisfaction that you have exceeded their expectations. Won't that be fulfilling?"

"And... who would that husband be?" I whispered.

"Me." He grinned as he caressed my cheek. "Let's get married, my dear Iris."

••~•

After being humiliated and disowned on her wedding day, Iris is suddenly approached by Gordon Graff, the enigmatic and highly controversial billionaire and also her ex's uncle, who asks for her hand in marriage.

His goal: make her family and ex pay for everything they've done to her.

But what happens when the line between pretence and true love begins to blur, and dangerous secrets begin to unfold?

Will the man who has promised to protect her be her doom? And will she be a casualty in his dangerous game of revenge?

At the press conference, my husband Thaddeus Getty publicly declared his love for his first love in front of all the media.
In an instant, the whole world knew I was a wife who wasn't cherished by her husband.
Heartbroken but not defeated, despite my deep love, I chose to leave.

Olympia was sold during the Annual Omega Bidding to the powerful and arrogant Alpha King, Alpha Fabian, who owns a five-star night club. Every year, he recruits Omegas to serve as strippers in the club. Others, to serve his top clients in the bedroom.
Most sold off by their relatives.
Once recruited here, chances of escaping and getting a fated mate are slim as the Omegas are considered used.
He’s the most powerful Alpha King in the world, no one can question him.
Leaving her family behind and worse, being sold off by her stepdad haunted her.
Upon arrival at the palace, she got into an issue with one of the task masters overseeing the royal maids.
At the verge of punishment, she’s rescued by a cool, charming gentleman when everyone else watches. Olympia fell for him at first sight, only to discover they are quadruplets.
Alpha Fabian, upon discovering her first day rebellion, as punishment, handed her over to his ruthless quadruplet sons as their personal callgirl.
Alpha Elliott, Asher and Ryder soon realize she’s their mate and are more than eager to tame her, not only physically but in bed but she hates them. They are Enigma Alphas, too dangerous for an Omega like her.
But she loves only one.
Alpha Cassius. The Alpha who saved her.
But what will be her fate as Alpha Cassius is an Enigma. He's an exorcist, regarded as consecrated mate of the moon goddess yet he's the only one among the Alpha princes she wants most, her wolf desires, her body arches for.
What will become of this intense forbidden passion between an Omega slave and the charming exorcist who is trying hard to fight demons and his feral desires at the same time?

My daughter was taken by rogues, and my husband didn't care.

But when his childhood friend went missing in another attack, he spared no expense searching for her.

I searched for our daughter alone. When I died in the wilderness, I'd been looking for fifty years.

As I bled out that day, I had only one thought—I'm sorry, Lily. I'm so sorry I couldn't find you.

Then I opened my eyes and found myself fifty years in the past, the night before the nightmare began.

They called him an educational genius, and me his masterpiece. They never knew that behind every award-winning painting I created lay a trail of sewing needles, rope burns, and starvation. They expected me to step up to the microphone and thank my father for his "nurturing." So I did exactly that. I walked into the spotlight—and then, slowly, I unzipped my high-necked gown, turning my scar-riddled body toward the national television cameras.
"My dear father," I said, a faint smile on my lips, "is this the perfect masterpiece you always wanted?"

I was married to Finn Murphy for five years, listening to him drunkenly cry my half-sister Isabella's name every single night. She had been sent to the Moretti family in my place and died in a shootout. Finn blamed me for her death every day, believing I had stolen Isabella's life and destroyed their love.

Then Finn died in a gunfight protecting me. With his last breath, he begged me to stop clinging to him. Heartbroken, I promised.

So when I woke up on my twentieth birthday with a second chance, I made a different choice: I accepted the engagement to Luca Moretti myself—the Italian mafia heir who was supposed to be my family's greatest enemy.

This time, Finn regretted everything. But I won't accept his regret anymore.

Rule one: never love your stepbrother. Rule two: never trust a bad boy. I broke both.
The day Carter traded up and called me a "disgusting mistake," Liam—the most dangerous guy in school—knelt in the rubble of my life. "Want to make him pay?" he murmured, his grip firm on my chin. "I'll show you how."
It was supposed to be a game. But his lessons came with a secret: he'd been claiming me since the day he first slipped a mint candy into my hand.

On my 25th birthday, the doctor handed me my death sentence—stage four pancreatic cancer, six months to live. The man I’d loved for seventeen years was flirting with his secretary while I coughed up blood and collapsed. He mocked me when chemo took my hair: “Even your hair is fake.” When I secretly transferred my last savings into his sports recovery fund—the very money that could’ve saved me—he threw me out: "Get out. You were never part of this family." If he knew the woman he called "a lying, attention-seeking fake" was dying alone in a run-down apartment… would he finally believe me? This time, my death is not a lie.

You think the most mortifying thing is accidentally sending lingerie photos to your professor ex?
Wrong. The most mortifying thing is him showing up at your door minutes later, eyes blazing with hunger. When my pipes burst and he's helping me fix them—soaking wet, muscles straining against his shirt—I figured we were headed straight for round two. Until my brother walks in with his spare key, casually calling me "sis."
I watched the blood drain from his face in real time. He thinks he's been lusting after his own student's girlfriend. His whole moral code just imploded. Now this ridiculously upright, devastatingly hot man is caught between wanting to devour me and hating himself for it, running scared from his own desire.
So here's my dilemma: Do I keep enjoying watching him completely unravel over me, or do I put him out of his misery and tell him the truth—that the "rival" he's been losing his mind over is actually my brother?

At the Rossini family gala, I clutched my wine glass, listening to Patrick chat with the senator's daughter about politics and business, without even the right to join their conversation. It wasn't until I overheard him in his study late that night calling me "just a plaything from peasant stock" that I realized how ridiculous my six years of devotion had been.

After fleeing to Los Angeles, I thought I could escape this family forever. But when Patrick's brother Warren rescued me at a bar and offered me a job, the tenderness in his eyes made my heart race. Was I crazy to fall for my ex's brother? Yet when he said "you deserve to be treasured," I couldn't help but wonder: maybe this time, I could take the gamble?

I was holding the burned puppy we adopted, sitting in the middle of our burning house. It was our fifth wedding anniversary. And he had left me. All for a phone call from another woman. They say my husband is a hero who can save anyone. So why wasn't he here to save me? As the flames danced before my eyes, I finally saw the truth: He only married me because I looked like her. Now that she's back, the replacement is no longer needed. If this is how it ends... so be it.

I woke up with a hangover, only to find I'd gone from a college girl to the revered "Luna" of a werewolf pack—complete with a handsome Alpha husband and a five-year-old son I'd never met. The catch? I'd lost eight years of memories. In my mind, my human boyfriend had just proposed last night.
Now my own son is afraid of me, my "husband" looks at me with heartbreak in his eyes, and my so-called "true love" is leading a team of hunters to our gates, claiming he needs to "purify" the monster I've become.
Stranded in a world of ancient totems and moon magic, I must reclaim my lost power, uncover the truth behind my missing memories, and face an impossible choice: return to the human life I remember, or fight for a werewolf family I can't even recall.

My name is Claire Bennett, and at twenty-nine, I finally said "no" to that midnight call.

Twenty years. From pudding cups in an orphanage to a lakefront mansion in Seattle, I spent two decades proving I was "useful"—until a woman in La Perla lingerie told me to fetch her coat. Like a servant.

"Without me, what can you even do?" Ethan asked, standing among broken wine glasses.

I didn't know the answer. But I left anyway.

First day back at that run-down Evergreen orphanage, I met Luca. He looked at me like I was the plague—"This isn't a resort for rich people to do guilt therapy."

I fucking hated this man.

Until that rainy night at the dive bar, under those dim lights, when I heard him singing: "I built these walls so high... then you walked in with your broken smile, and suddenly I'm terrified..."

Then he swung his guitar at the men trying to hurt me.

In the rain, in that shabby motel, he said: "The first day I saw you, I knew I was in trouble."

But the story wasn't over. Because three months later, a plain rental sedan pulled up to the orphanage...

I died watching my step-sister smile as I fell to my death. The poison she fed me for years had finally worked, and the world called me a cheating disgrace.
Reborn six months before the Olympics, I'm back with the memory of her betrayal burning in my veins. This time, I see her every sly move coming. This time, I know about the dropper of poison she hides behind her back.
They took my gold, my family, and my life. But they made one mistake: they didn't make sure I was finished.
This time, the gold isn't the prize. It's the weapon. And I will use it to destroy them all.

For ten years, they thought I couldn't hear.

They were wrong.

I heard Braden call me his "pet" at his bachelor party.

I heard Scarlett threaten to push me off a cliff.

I heard them plotting how to split my father's two million dollar inheritance.

I heard every detail of their plan to have me committed after the wedding.

My right ear was never damaged. For ten years, I just chose selective deafness—choosing to believe their sweet lies, ignoring the harsh truths.

They saw me as a helpless deaf girl, the perfect victim.

They didn't know that victims fight back.

And I heard every fucking word.

I thought I was the happiest woman in the world... until I clicked on that video.

The moment the screen lit up, my entire world came crashing down.

The woman on the bed was Calista - that girl who grew up with us since we were kids. And that hand caressing her skin was wearing the wedding ring I had personally put on Matteo's finger.

"I've missed you so much..."
"You drive me crazy, baby..."

Those sweet words I knew so well completely destroyed me.

Everyone said we were the perfect couple, but who knew this marriage was built on nothing but lies?

Since he's so good at acting, I guess it's time I gave him a show of my own. I'm going to make sure everyone sees what this "perfect husband" really is...

Three-year contract marriage. $5,000 monthly salary. Peaceful divorce at the end.

That was my deal with Ethan Blackwood.

Until I overheard him on the phone—booking restaurants, ordering white roses, preparing a necklace. I knew his white moonlight Bailey was back.

So I paid $3,000 for a fake ultrasound and told him I was pregnant.

He transferred $500,000 and said coldly, "Take care of my child."

I took the money and ran to Seattle, thinking I'd never see him again.

Three weeks later, he showed up at the café where I worked.

Soaked through. Eyes dangerous.

"That clinic was shut down by the FDA three months ago," he threw the investigation in front of me. "Your fake ultrasound? The check bounced."

My blood ran cold.

He leaned closer, voice low enough to devour me—

"Since it was fake, Sophia, let's make it real."

I Thought He Was Dumping Me, So I Asked for the Breakup Settlement First

On my birthday night, Ethan filled the apartment with candles and held out a three-tiered pink cake, his eyes softer than I'd ever seen.

Three years. From the day I saved this broken man off the streets to watching him become a CEO worth hundreds of millions. Three years of him never saying "I love you," never defining what we were.

Until this morning, when I saw the text on his phone:

Sophia: I'm back in the country. Want to see you.

His ex-girlfriend. Perfect, successful, in his league—Sophia.

So when he asked "What do you want for your birthday," I understood—he was negotiating a breakup settlement.

"A two-bedroom apartment downtown," I said. "That way it'll be easier for you going forward."

His face went white.

The cake slammed onto the table. He walked out. Three days of silence.

I shoved that cake to the back of the fridge, couldn't throw it away—just like I couldn't let him go.

Until he saw me having coffee with another guy and stormed in, furiously writing a check to eliminate his "rival."

Until he shoved his phone in my face: "Look at what she actually said!"

Until he asked: "Do you know what was hidden inside that cake?"

I didn't just ruin a birthday.

I ruined the surprise he'd spent a month planning.

I was once a brilliant psychology student at Berkeley, but now I've become a "hunter" in Viktor Reeves' criminal empire. My job? Using psychological techniques to seduce wealthy men and swindle them out of their money for this devil.

After each mission, I hate myself a little more. Until that day, when I met him in a coffee shop—Alexei, a documentary filmmaker with gentle blue eyes. Unlike my other targets, there was something pure and kind in his gaze. For three weeks, I crafted lies to make him fall in love with me, all while stealing his money.

Until that night, when he burst into the casino, pointing a gun at my heart. "Who taught you to seduce different men at the same time?"

Then my world collapsed—he turned out to be Viktor's own son!

Three months after I died, he used his Grammy acceptance speech to shame me before thirty million people. He accused me of ethical violations, of seducing him, then running off with his money and our dog, leaving him with massive medical debt.
Little did he know, our dog Max and I were both gone, taken by the same cancer.
At the stroke of midnight, as his words still hung in the air, my Instagram auto-posted a birthday message for him. It was just the first one. I'd recorded twenty-eight videos, enough for every birthday until he turns fifty-seven.
Louis... my revenge—no, my love—is only just beginning.

I busted my ass working for five years, completely wrecked my health just to scrape together money for his eye surgery. Then I discovered—he was never blind to begin with.

When I asked him why.

"Because you owe me," Matthew stared at me with those cold eyes.

But I can't remember a damn thing...

Now I'm about to die from late-stage stomach cancer. I wonder if Matthew will be pleased?

Three years ago, Emma's life was shattered in a single night. When she awoke in the dark woods, the last face she saw became her eternal nightmare—Damien Cross, the man she once loved.

Now, her father's death and crushing debts have pushed her to the brink. Surrounded by creditors with nowhere to turn, Damien appears like a savior, offering an deal she cannot refuse: Marry me, and all debts will be erased.

"Love?" Emma laughs hysterically, "Rape first, then force me into marriage—is that your idea of love?"

"Emma, I swear I never meant to hurt you!" His voice trembles, "I love you!"

The luxurious Manhattan penthouse becomes her gilded cage. When she discovers his secret arrangements for "overseas treatment," her last thread of hope snaps. A desperate escape, shattered memories beginning to piece themselves back together...

What shocking secret lies buried in the truth?

For thirty years, I've been the perfect Mrs. Morrison. Until that night when I heard my son Dylan publicly humiliate Della at the Country Club—the orphan I rescued ten years ago, who's become more of a daughter to me than my own son ever was.
"This is what happens when you adopt stray cats," he said.
When I waited for my husband Theo to defend us, he coldly replied: "Divorce it is, then. I'm tired of settling anyway."
In that moment, Della and I made the same decision: divorce.
The 54-year-old me and 29-year-old her left the Morrison mansion with four suitcases, moving into a lakeside cabin. The men thought we'd come crawling back within days—after all, we were just two women "without financial resources."
But when we started investigating the family finances, we discovered $150,000 in mysterious expenses. All flowing to one woman—Theo's college classmate, Becca Sterling.
Cancer treatment I could understand, but when I overheard what Theo said to her at the hospital... I realized I didn't know the man I'd shared a bed with for thirty years.

I died once.

Torn apart by the fiancée of the Alpha Prince who I thought loved me, bleeding out on a cold basement floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in that luxury car heading to the Royal Territory—one year ago, about to walk into this beautiful trap because I saved an amnesiac stranger named "Alex."

In my past life, I was too naive, thinking that saving a wounded stranger would lead to true love. Little did I know he was Prince Marcus Blackwood, and I was just an ordinary Omega from a remote pack. When I naively requested to become his mate at the grand royal ceremony, I was met with mockery and hostility from the nobles.

This time, I won't make the same mistakes.

When Marcus gazes at me with those deep blue eyes, promising me the whole world, all I want is to run far away. When he appears in my room, using his Alpha pressure to force me to admit my feelings for him, I remember the terror of my past life's death.

But fate gave me an unexpected gift—Ryan, that warm Beta guard captain. When I discovered he was actually the thin boy I protected twelve years ago, everything changed.

Marcus can offer me a crown and power, but Ryan gives me true freedom and respect. Now I must choose: repeat my past mistakes and become Marcus's caged bird, or follow my heart and choose real love?

But will a rejected Alpha Prince let go so easily?

The moment I found myself bound in that warehouse, I was still foolishly hoping James would come to my rescue. Four years—I had washed countless shirts for him, written innumerable papers, even helped him pursue other girls. Everyone called me lovesick, but I believed I had a place in his heart.

Yet there he stood, pointing at Emily, saying, "I choose her." As the knife pierced my chest, all I felt was endless regret.

When my eyes flew open, I'd somehow returned to the first day of senior year! What shattered me even more was learning that my savior had never been James at all, but some tattooed guy on a motorcycle?

The fake hero was still playing Prince Charming, while my actual rescuer was... where?

This time around, I absolutely won't fall into the same trap!

I thought I married a cold-blooded businessman.

Three years of contract marriage, he lived at the other end of the hallway, never stepping into my room. I had the divorce papers signed, ready to tell him today.

Until that morning, I suddenly heard his thoughts.

When I walked into the dining room wearing a silk robe, he stared at his iPad, but his mind was screaming: "She's not wearing a bra... don't look! Three years of sitting here every morning, torturing myself..."

Wait, what?

This financial genius called the "Iceberg"—his head was full of me?

I started testing him. "Accidentally" brushing his throat while fixing his tie, his ears turned red instantly, internal meltdown: "She's touching me... calm down! Think about GDP growth rates!"

The most shocking part? I found my "lost" scarves and that pink lace underwear in his nightstand drawer.

Three years of coldness was actually three years of crazy restraint.

Now the question is: should I keep pretending I know nothing, or...

When neuroscience PhD candidate Elena Rodriguez desperately needs a research partner for her marriage transition study, the last person she expects to volunteer is Ethan Mitchell—her college crush and campus golden boy who always seemed out of her league.
One marriage certificate, two agendas: she needs academic data, he needs to escape family pressure. What should have been a straightforward fake arrangement becomes infinitely more complicated when Elena accidentally develops an unexpected side effect after saying "I do"—she can hear her new husband's thoughts.
"She said yes... even if it's fake, she's my wife now..."
"I've been loving her for four years..."
"Want to kiss that concentrated frown away..."
When Ethan's carefully hidden four-year crush becomes Elena's personal mental soundtrack, and she discovers every "coincidental" college encounter was meticulously planned, the power dynamics of their fake marriage flip entirely.
Turns out the best way to use mind-reading is: first hear him fall, then make him completely yours.
A brilliant academic heroine × devoted STEM hero neural synchronization love experiment. When accidental telepathy meets fake marriage, when neuroscience meets real confessions, Elena's about to use this glitch-like ability to turn her fake husband into her real forever.

The sunset over Portland looks like something out of a postcard tonight. Too bad I won't be around to see many more of them.

Six months. That's what Dr. Martinez gave me this afternoon. Stage four stomach cancer, spreading fast. I sat in my car in the hospital parking lot for an hour afterward, trying to figure out who I'm supposed to call with news like this.

My phone buzzes—my brother, right on time. "You missed Dad's birthday dinner. Again." His voice has that familiar edge, the one that's been there since we were kids. Since Mom died giving birth to me twenty-four years ago.

He doesn't ask where I was. Doesn't ask if I'm okay. Just launches into the same old guilt trip about family obligations and responsibility. I want to tell him about the diagnosis, but what's the point? He's spent my entire life wishing it had been me instead of Mom.

Karen used to say I never grew up, that I was always playing the victim. Easy words from someone who never had to live with being the reason their mother died. She never saw the panic attacks, never noticed how I flinched when people raised their voices, never asked about the scars on my arms.

Now I'm dying, and I can't stop wondering—will anyone actually miss me? Or will they just feel relieved that the family burden is finally gone?

I rescued Frank from an avalanche, and he traded my salvation for control. His "hero" became his shameful secret, locked away in a gilded cage. Then, on national TV, he denied I ever existed—a lie that killed our unborn child. My revenge was a potion of forgetting. Now he roams the mountains, a madman begging for clues about the wife he lost. And he just asked me, looking me in the eye, "Have you seen her?"

"Barren. Cursed. Worthless."
Those words from my mate still echoed as he tore our bond apart in front of everyone. Four years of humiliation. Four years thinking I was broken, while he was secretly popping fertility drugs when no one was looking.
The night they cast me out, I was dying, bleeding, utterly destroyed. My own mother hurled "cursed daughter" at my face before walking away forever.
But what I found in those ancient ruins shattered everything I thought I knew.
"The cursed one wasn't me—it was HIM!"

I was the most pathetic existence on campus.

Thick glasses, baggy sweaters, walking through the cafeteria like crossing a minefield. Albert, my childhood crush of three years, publicly mocked me as "a pathetic little dog following him around." Campus queen Madison crushed me under her heel. That rainy night, I gave up completely and swore to make them all pay.

Three months later, I returned.

Bronze skin, perfect curves, stunning hair—the entire campus was buzzing about this "mystery goddess." No one recognized that I was once the pathetic Molly Baker.

When Albert discovered the truth, it was too late. The man standing beside me shocked the entire school.

I died—not in the way you'd expect, but slowly, painfully, while he was entangled with her.

He called her his savior, the woman who sold everything to rescue his failing empire. Little did he know, it was my money, my life's work, that he squandered.

The betrayal burned hotter than any flame, and I vowed he'd pay.

Now, he's gone—a leap from the heights he once ruled, his fall as swift as his rise.

"They took eight years of my life, destroyed my family, and buried the truth under a mountain of lies. I walked out of Riverside State Penitentiary with nothing but a canvas bag and a marriage contract to a man in a coma—my last desperate chance at revenge.

But some sleeping princes aren't as helpless as they seem. And sometimes, the most beautiful love stories begin with the darkest plans for vengeance.

Justice may sleep, but it never dies. And when it awakens... it changes everything."

I thought that one night's mistake would be our biggest secret, until two pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test.

Patrick was my stepbrother, the forbidden territory I should stay away from, the person I thought would never belong to me. When I saw Luna's text, when I thought I was just his drunken substitute, I decided to disappear with this secret.

But on that stormy afternoon, when he blocked my path to the clinic, when he declared to everyone on the street "This is my baby! She's the woman I love!"—that's when I knew.

I fell in love with my dead fiancé's face.

For two months, I believed Kieran had returned from the dead—scarred, memory-lost, but alive. I watched him fall for another woman, endured his cold rejections, and felt our mate bond remain forever severed.

Until I discovered the truth.

The man I'd been desperately trying to save wasn't Kieran at all. He was Declan Blackwood—Kieran's twin brother, the one who was supposed to be dead. The real Kieran was gone forever, murdered in a conspiracy that ran deeper than I ever imagined.

And the most fucked-up part?

The moment I learned who Declan really was......

"I'm dying... please save me..." The last words Avery spoke into the phone. The last words Felix chose to ignore. Six months later, when the insurance money calls, Felix Sutton will discover that some mistakes can never be forgiven—and some debts can only be paid with your life.

The champagne in my glass had gone flat, but I barely noticed. From our VIP box at the Vienna State Opera House, I watched my husband lean close to the pianist Lucia—close enough that she was practically sitting in my lap.

Five years of marriage. Five years of playing the perfect Habsburg wife, smiling through charity galas and dinner parties, pretending I didn't see the way other women looked at Max, pretending I didn't care when he looked back.

The diamonds at my throat felt like a noose.

Every eye in the opera house was on us. The Viennese elite loved their gossip, and tonight I was serving it up on a silver platter. The wronged wife, the beautiful mistress, the scandal everyone had been waiting for.

I could have endured it. I'd endured worse.

But when my father collapsed in Berlin—his heart giving out—and I called Max with shaking fingers, all I got was his voicemail. Again and again.

That's when I understood. I hadn't been protecting a marriage. I'd been guarding a tomb.

The question wasn't whether I could bear this humiliation.

The question was: why should I?

"The night I miscarried our baby, my husband was toasting his mistress's award win."

Five years of secret marriage. I was Broadway producer Maximilian Cross's hidden wife while the world thought he was a golden bachelor. Only I knew who he was really fucking every night.

Until that bitch Vivienne Sterling showed up.

She became his "artistic muse." I became his live-in booty call. He took her to every important event, bought her custom jewelry, publicly searched for his "soulmate" on stage—while I played piano accompaniment like a goddamn background prop.

Here's the fucked up part: I collapsed on stage, miscarrying and bleeding out in the ER, while he was across town popping champagne for that homewrecker's Drama Desk win. Twenty-three emergency calls—all ignored because it was her "big night."

But baby, you think that's where this story ends?

One Instagram post destroyed them both. Five-year secret marriage exposed, entire internet calling Vivienne a homewrecker, investors pulling out, him going from Broadway king to street rat overnight.

Even better? That 27-year-old composer heir Dante had been crushing on me for ten years. He gave me roles, protection, and real love I'd never experienced.

One year later, Dante and I won the Tony for our musical. I stood under the spotlight, he cheered from the audience. My ex-husband? Watching our triumph from his shitty apartment while his side piece slings coffee for minimum wage.

When I was twenty, Samuel called off our engagement and chose Stella instead.

After the engagement party ended, he told me: "Stella saved my life once. Now her father wants to marry her off to that disgusting old man Harrison Burke. I can't just stand by and watch."

He said to give him three years to repay his debt of gratitude, and after three years he would come back to me.

Like a fool, I waited for him for three years.

During those three years, I went from being his fiancée to becoming his secret lover, telling myself it was only temporary.

Until that day, when he knew I had a heart condition but still made me go extreme skydiving for the sake of a business deal.

After that, I completely came to my senses and abandoned him. And he seemed to suddenly regret it.

My husband thinks I'm trying to destroy him. He's wrong. I'm dying to save him. I'm Persephone, and I have two secrets that are killing me: First—I've been covering up my drug-addicted husband's crimes for three years, watching Magnus hate me more with every lie I tell to protect him. Second—I have ALS. Two years to live, maybe less. But when his seductive ex-girlfriend returns promising a "cure" and I discover she's using him for lethal human experiments, I realize the most dangerous person in Magnus's life isn't me. It's the woman he trusts. Now I'm racing against my failing body and his growing paranoia to save the man who wishes I was dead. The irony? I'm about to grant his wish. Some love stories end with "till death do us part." Mine starts there

I am Seraphina Cross, a professional heartbreaker who specializes in destroying arrogant, self-important men.

My target was tennis prodigy Phoenix Ashford, but after one wild night, I discovered I'd slept with the wrong man—his twin brother Caspian, heir to a business empire.

One mistake. One bloody game unleashed.

I drove Caspian to obsession, made Phoenix willing to die for me. When both brothers believed they'd won my heart, I bared my fangs.

"I'm sorry, Caspian... I choose Phoenix."

One sentence shattered a brotherhood forged in blood.

Fists flew. Betrayal cut deep. Hatred consumed them—two brothers at war over a woman who never loved either of them.

And the game has only just begun.

For three years, Gabriel forced me to watch myself rot in a cursed mirror, whispering: "This is the real you."

I tried using Jasper as withdrawal medication. I rewrote scripts with Orion. I endured every humiliation thinking it would set me free.

But every man who claimed to save me was just another puppeteer.

Gabriel wanted my soul. Jasper wanted a tool. Orion wanted his mission completed.

They all thought they were writing my story...

When I woke up in the hospital after the crash, I croaked "Bro" at my brother. He stared back like I was a stranger and coldly shot back, "I'm not your brother."

Even more bizarre, he pointed at some guy with an IV stand and said, "That's your brother." I clutched my sheets, faking amnesia, and followed this "fake brother" home, only to discover his leukemia medication and hear him coughing blood in the middle of the night.

Caught between my real brother's rejection and my "fake brother's" fragility, I'm spinning a web of lies between two "brothers"—where will this case of mistaken identity drag me?