10000 Book(s) Related to my daughter is the final boss novel

A falling planter knocked me out after a fight with my lifelong rival. When I woke up, I remembered everything. I just figured pretending otherwise might get me a little compensation.

"Who are you?" I asked.

Nathan Cole stared at me. Then he said, "Your boyfriend. We've been together for eight years."

Eight years?

He glanced at my mouth. "Want a kiss? Might jog your memory."

I'd been after his money. Apparently, he was after my lips.

I was the second child in my family who had an elder sister, perfect in every aspect. However, I had always craved for a brother.
My excitement was above the ninth cloud when Claire, my elder sister, ran up to me and announced, “Steffy, we have a big brother now.”
However, I ruined everything when the pure love for my brother took a different place in my heart. Now, I wanted Taylor, not as my brother but my lover.


“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?” He asked, staring at my fragile body in the hospital bed.
“Do you care at all?” I replied before turning my face away from him.

Five yeas ago, we were hosting a family dinner when I walked into the study and found my father with his mistress.

He looked at me, voice flat and cold: "Alice Russo, you don't tell your mother about this. Trust me, you can't handle the fallout."

I didn't listen. Ran straight to my mother in tears and told her everything.

That night, Mother had her people remove the woman from the property.

The next morning, the woman's daughter Anya ran my mother down with her car at the docks.

That's when I realized, I was completely alone. Because my dad is taking his bastard daughter's side.

I called Victor Castro, my husband, 99 times. He never answered once.

I had a breakdown at the family tribunal. They physically removed me and had me committed to a psychiatric facility in Sicily, the worst kind of place you can imagine.

Five years later, Victor finally spoke to me.

The transport stopped outside the facility that day. Sunlight hit my eyes.

Two guards helped me to the car. My father stood there with a line of his men behind him.

In the crowd, I recognized Peter Thompson, one of my mother's most loyal people.

He gave me the smallest nod. Something flickered in his eyes.

I kept my expression neutral and got in the car.

The door closed. Victor sat across from me.

He lit a cigar and said it without any preamble:

"The day Anya ran your mother down at the docks? I paid for her legal team. I provided the witnesses. I signed the autopsy report myself."

In the seventh year after I broke my fated mate's heart and he went abroad to study, he finally returned home with his new fiancée to meet his parents.
On that exact same day, the hospital finally pronounced my seven-year battle with Core Degeneration a failure. I was sent home to wait for death.
Seeing me sitting in a wheelchair on the street, supported by my mother, a mocking smile appeared on Kaelen's lips.
"It’s been seven years, and you've fallen so low you can't even walk?"
Listening to his disgusted voice and smelling the Alpha pine scent I once loved so much, I panicked, hurriedly yanking down the sleeves of my coat to hide the dense, ugly needle marks on the back of my hand.
"It's nothing. I fell and broke my leg, that's all," I lied quietly.
Kaelen sneered, pulling a beautiful Omega woman,Sloane, closer to his side. She smelled exactly like I used to—vanilla and rain.
"Since you're so free," he drawled, his eyes cold, "I'm getting married soon. Why don't you be Sloane's bridesmaid?"
I just smiled calmly. "No thanks. I'm going somewhere very far away soon."

On the twenty-first night of insomnia, I ordered a beastman at 3 AM.

The ad was ridiculously over-the-top—gentle, considerate, perfect at housework, and could even cure anxiety and insomnia. The girls in the reviews said their lives transformed overnight, work stress just... gone.

I was dead tired, eyes barely staying open. Just glanced at the photo and hit purchase. Golden hair, amber eyes, two cute little fangs when he smiled—looked sweet.

Pink option looked prettier than blue. Done.

I didn't catch the tiny line of text flashing at the bottom: Grade A Product - Adults Only - Full Intimate Services

Three days later, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door to boxes way bigger than I'd expected.

Way bigger.

"@everyone: Nina is stranded at the downtown bar in this blizzard. Ella, your brother drives an SUV, right? Have him go pick her up ASAP!"

In my last life, I caved. I read the Slack message from Duke, my boss and fiancé, and sent my brother out into the storm. That single mistake cost Jeffrey his life. He was beaten to death in jail over a rigged rape charge. Meanwhile, Duke stole my inheritance. He locked me in a psych ward, leaving me to swallow a fistful of pills.

Now, I open my eyes. I stare at the exact same glowing notification on my screen. I smirk. I swipe it away. Then, I lock my brother safely in his room and turn on his Twitch stream.

You want a scapegoat to cover up your cheap office affair, Duke? Not tonight. Enjoy the storm. This time, you and Nina are going down together.

My name is Ivy, and I’m 18. My best friend’s father, Sebastian Blackwood, a Harvard law professor, is mature, cold, and authoritative. He’s been the centerpiece of every fantasy I’ve had since puberty.

Those nights, I toss and turn under the covers, imagining his fingers slipping into my wet, hot va*na, imagining his cok thrusting into me hard, driving me to the edge of climax.

I know it’s wrong. He’s off-limits.

But every time he looks at me, those deep, piercing eyes seem to strip away my clothes, staring straight at my most secret places. My heart races out of control, my body burns with heat.

I don’t want to just be his “good girl.”

I want to be claimed by him, completely, destructively.

During this 30-day seaside vacation, I’ll make him see that I’m no longer a little girl.

My body is wet for him, my soul burns for him.

Sebastian, will you resist, or will you pin me down and fu*k me hard?

"Sandra, we're a modern couple. Keeping our finances separate is the greatest respect I can show you."
Seven years into our marriage, my husband Howard Mercer had taken "fifty-fifty" to its absolute extreme.
The mortgage was split down the middle. Utility bills were calculated to the penny.
Even for our six-year-old daughter Anna's birthday cake, he'd remind me to Venmo him forty dollars right after paying at the register.
I used to think he'd just brought his Wall Street spreadsheets home with him.
Then Anna had an asthma attack and ended up in the ER, and after that first exchange, he gave me the silent treatment for three days over the ER bill.
That's when I caught a glimpse of the credit card statement he'd been hiding.
Twenty thousand dollars. A private helicopter. A ski trip to Aspen.
All for another woman. And her son.
So he wasn't broke. And he wasn't incapable of love. He'd just been spending it all on someone else.
In that moment, I didn't shed a single tear.
If he wanted to run our marriage like a business, fine. I'd play along, right up until I bled him dry.

My water broke on the coldest night of winter.

My fated mate, Alpha Cassian, wrapped silver chains around my wrists and threw me into a freezing dungeon.

"Lucian's son must be born first," he snarled, forcing wolfsbane down my throat as I screamed through contractions.

Above me, his sister-in-law Sienna rested in silk sheets, surrounded by healers and warmth. She was carrying his dead brother's heir—the future of the pack. And I? I was nothing. Just the Omega he'd been forced to mark, the one his pack blamed for Lucian's death.

As silver burned through my skin and ice water rose past my chest, I felt our baby's heartbeat flutter. Then slow.

"Please," I begged. "Our child—"

"You owe him this," Cassian said coldly.

When the chains finally came off, he'd lost us both for good.

On our third wedding anniversary, the Alpha werewolf had to accompany his northern allies on a border patrol and couldn’t be with me.
So I went for my prenatal check-up alone, choosing a hospital under the Alpha’s name.
“I’m Luna to Alpha Kael, here for my prenatal appointment.”
The receptionist looked at me with confusion. “You are… who?”
I’d spent the last three years since our wedding mostly at home, focusing on my health to prepare for pregnancy, so it wasn’t surprising that Kael’s subordinates didn’t recognize me.
I was about to pull out our mate agreement as proof when a female wolf suddenly charged over and slapped me hard across the face—twice.
She was holding the bison-leather briefcase I had custom-made for Kael. Pointing a finger at my nose, she snarled:
“I’ve seen plenty of shameless strays like you, but none bold enough to come here and harass my Alpha!”
“Why don’t you go ask around—who really rules the Blackwood Forest? Get out of here now if you don’t want to die!”
A sharp, wrenching pain shot through my abdomen. I clutched my belly, forcing myself to explain through the discomfort: “This is mine and Kael’s hospital. I am Kael’s Luna…”
The woman let out a shrill, mocking laugh, then lifted her foot and kicked me brutally in the stomach.
“What a joke! Kael already told me his useless mate died long ago!”
“Where did you crawl out from, you stray? How dare you impersonate the Luna!”
That kick severed the last thread of life for my pup.
This foolish she-wolf had no idea—Kael was nothing but a stray my father picked up from the wilderness.
Every deed to this entire pack, and every asset Kael appears to own, bears only one name: mine, Alina.
Since Kael has betrayed me… I’ll grant you exactly what you wish for.

I'm Nora. Size 18. Transferred to my fourth school in four years. And on my very first day, the hottest guy in class leaned over and told me my seat had a weight limit.
That was Ethan Cross. Lacrosse captain, sharp jaw, zero empathy. He made it his personal mission to remind me I was fat — in the hallway, at lunch, in gym class, wherever he could get a laugh.
Then I found his sketchbook.
He'd left it open in the art room. I should've walked away. I didn't. I turned the page, and there I was — my body, my face, my hands — drawn over and over like he couldn't stop.
None of it was a joke. None of it was ugly.
So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

For five years, Alpha Rowan Blackwood kept our mate bond secret while the pack waited for another woman to become his Luna. Every time he broke a promise to me, he gave me a binding decree: anything I wanted, his to provide.

I had never asked for jewels, money, or a title. But I was about to collect my hundredth token, and this time I knew what I wanted.

The right to break our bond. And his promise to let me leave.

I am secretly pregnant with the child of my worst enemy—my ruthless stepbrother.
A masquerade mistake left me ruined, and I desperately tried to hide my condition. But Kyle, the Empire's most feared Chief Mage and my lifelong tormentor, cornered me and found my medical crystal.
"Who is the bastard?!" he roared, slamming me against the wall, his ice-blue eyes blazing with murderous jealousy. "I will crush his bones and burn his soul in hellfire!"
I trembled in his shadow. How could I tell this possessive tyrant that the "bastard" he wants to brutally murder is... himself? Now, trapped in a magical chamber that forces us to reveal our darkest secrets or die, my time is running out.

Ethan Bennett went overseas for a month. While he was gone, his family found him a wife.

Faced with the furious man himself, I panicked and blurted out the worst possible greeting.

“Hi, hubby.”

He flushed, then scowled. After a moment, he gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Get out.” His low voice left no room for discussion.

Later, though, he would be the one holding me tightly around the waist.

I’m in the final stages of stomach cancer. My son just passed away yesterday.
At his funeral, my ex-husband barged in, pointed at our son’s headstone, and accused me of doing anything for attention—even putting on a show like this.
He told me to get lost, to stay far away from the woman he really loves.
So I did exactly as he wanted.
I took my son’s ashes and disappeared into the endless sea.
But now, when I’m truly at death’s door, that same man who once hated me with everything he had is tearing the hospital apart, desperate to save me.
Don’t bother, Lucian.
If there’s a next life, let’s never meet again.

Seven years ago, I staged an affair to set him free, letting him believe I'd betrayed him for money. Now he's back—a celebrated music director, weeks away from his engagement—and I'm just the cleaning woman kneeling at his feet.
"You know this cleaning woman?" someone whispered.
"Seven years, and look how far you've fallen," he said, his voice cold as ice.
I kept my head down, tugging my sleeve over the needle marks the chemo had left behind.
He still thinks I cheated for the money.
He has no idea what it actually cost me to give him this life.

"You're no daughter of this pack," my mother hissed, her golden eyes flashing in the firelight. "If you can't support your Alpha sister, then get out."
I should have seen it coming. In the Ashveil Pack, family means everything—unless you're me. Kiera Thornhart, the disappointment. While my perfect sister Sera got the love, the title, even my mate Tristan, I got a mating ceremony where nobody showed up. Not even the man who swore he'd always be mine.
That night, I ran.
Now I've built a new life in Berlin's underground werewolf syndicate, where strength is the only law that matters. I've learned to fight, to lead, to make wolves twice my size back down with just a look. But when a message comes that Sera's dying, the pack demands my return.
"Come home, Kiera," my father's voice crackles through the phone. "Your sister needs you."
I almost laugh. After everything?
But this time, I'm not the weak wolf they left behind. This time, I have fangs of my own.

I spent five years letting men degrade me at a club, all to save $300,000 for my blind brother Joren's eye surgery.
The day I finally raised the money, I excitedly told him he would be able to see again—only to discover he was never blind to begin with.
My husband’s "bankrupt" company had been thriving all along. My parents, who supposedly died in a plane crash, had been living luxuriously abroad.
My husband even took my "stillborn" daughter and gave her to my adopted sister.
My entire family conned me for five years to "teach me a lesson"—all because my adopted sister claimed I bullied her.
Now, they are forcing me to donate my liver to the woman who stole my life, threatening that I'll never see my biological daughter again if I refuse.
But what they don't know is that I have terminal liver cancer, and I only have two days left to live...

I was driving my dad's luxury car to pick up a friend when his secretary stopped me on the spot.
She mistook me for the lover who had sex with my dad in his office.
So she used car theft as an excuse to drag me into the basement, beat me up, and took nude photos of me.
When my dad found out, he asked me to apologize to her.
That's when I realized that in his eyes, his reputation mattered more than his own daughter.
If that's the case, he doesn't need to be the figurehead CEO anymore.

My name is Damian Lemaître.

In my past life, I was Serafina Camarilla's lapdog for ten years, being drained of my life, used, and squeezed dry of my last bit of value.

I opened my eyes and found myself back at the scene of the blood pact ceremony. She sat on the high seat, waiting for me to kneel down and swear the oath with the same excitement as in my previous life.

"Damian Flamel, are you willing?"

"No."

Intro: I'm an S-Class superhuman, but I was locked in a basement for five full years, subjected to inhuman abuse and torment. All they wanted was to drain my blood and energy dry. I once believed that if I could just endure it all, I would see my family again. Until my wife Valen's voice came through the intercom and revealed that it was all a lie. I will turn my fury into strength and tear it all apart with my own hands.

In my past life, I signed a marriage agreement, served as a live-in son-in-law for five years, and died in a hospital. Meanwhile, my "wife," Grace, was on the moon, embracing her lover and watching the star rings.
Given a second chance, she threw the agreement in my face at the marriage summit: "Sign it. After the wedding, I'll go find Karl. You'd better act like the legal wife."
I didn't refuse; I just tossed the agreement to my emotional nemesis .
The whole city laughed at my madness.
Until Grace flaunted her "pure-blood heir" at the 100-day celebration, I publicly projected her sterilization report—
the bastard in her arms was the product of her lover and a downtown prostitute.
And her lover was being mutilated in the downtown area.
In this life, I'm not a live-in son-in-law; I'm her gravedigger.

A hundred years ago, I was the strongest Delta the Silver Moon Pack had ever produced.

Born with the God Bone, unmatched in power, I had Royal Guard recruiters showing up at my door three times, waiting for me to say yes. The whole pack assumed I'd lead them to glory.

Then came that night. My own family dragged me to the altar in the frozen vault.

My mother cried and said, "Lacey was born broken. Without the God Bone, she'll die."

"You're the older sister. You're strong. You'll survive without it."

I refused.

Grant, my fiancé, pulled the knife on me. Brandon, my brother, pinned down my arms and legs. My parents watched from the shadows, saying nothing.

"Don't be so selfish."

They carved the God Bone out of my body, drained every drop of my heart's blood, and threw me into a vault fifty degrees below zero.

My sister took everything that was mine and became the golden girl everyone adored.

A hundred years passed. I became the Supreme Commander of the Royal Guard.

This year, during recruitment, my adjutant handed me the candidate list. I saw a familiar name and smiled. I picked up my pen and crossed it out.

"Doesn't meet the requirements. Denied."

"T-The voices, Alpha. The v-voices instructed me to do it," she responded. I could sense the bewilderment radiating off him and those around us without needing to look. What on earth is she saying?

"What do you mean, what voices?" he pressed her.

"T-The tiny voices, Alpha. They won't stop urging me to k-kill Saint," she said before collapsing forward, slipping into unconsciousness.


Alpha Jackson lost his mate once and now raises his six-year-old son while leading the New Moon Pack. He never planned to love again, until fate gives him another mate.

Saint leaves his old pack to escape being the weak omega and become a warrior. Finding his fated mate should be a blessing.

Instead, it brings danger.

After Saint arrives, rogue attacks stop, but a child’s voice begins whispering in pack members’ minds, urging them to kill the Alpha’s mate. As wolves turn on Saint, suspicion flies around.

With a traitor, dark magic, and war closing in, Jackson must uncover the truth before he loses Saint too.

But what if the sweetest voice is the deadliest lie?

My name is Lucas Moretti.

I was a demon abandoned by my own parents from the moment I was born because of the horns growing from my head.

Fortunately, my grandfather loved me. I spent eighteen years living with him in the countryside, where he raised me as his own.

People often whispered behind my back, calling me a demon. But I never truly cared, because my grandfather always told me that I wasn’t one.

Until the day my grandfather mysteriously died in Harmony City.

The villagers claimed I was the source of evil—that I was the reason my grandfather died.

That was when I lost my temper.

The power of Pan hidden within my bloodline erupted in an instant. If it hadn’t been for Michael Jenkins holding me back, I might have slaughtered everyone in the village.

After I finally regained control, I set out for Harmony City to confront my parents and uncover the truth behind my grandfather’s death.

But on the very first day I returned home, I felt nothing but disgust.

I always knew my parents were cold-blooded.

But I never imagined they could be this cruel...

Leon Sterling — the cold, calculating heir to a powerful corporate empire — doesn’t believe in love, nor does he care for marriage. In a world where everything can be measured, traded, or bought, he chooses a different path: fatherhood through science, with no strings attached.

Anna Monroe — a gentle, ordinary woman — unexpectedly becomes the surrogate chosen for Leon’s child. But beneath the layers of a sterile contract, what begins as a purely transactional relationship slowly unravels into something far more fragile… and dangerously real.

An old accident.
A handkerchief once dropped.
A forgotten memory that refuses to stay buried.

As fate tightens its grip, they find themselves caught in a game of heart and consequence — where emotions grow in the most unexpected places, and nothing goes according to plan.

When the contract ends and the lines blur, will Leon still choose solitude… or will he fight to keep Anna — not as a surrogate, but as the one woman he can’t let go?

I’m a top assassin.

Three years ago, on a rainy night, I was being hunted when a stranger took a bullet for me. As he lay dying, he grabbed my hand and begged me to protect his son—and to keep living in his place.

To escape my pursuers and keep that promise, I changed my face, took his identity, and stayed by the boy’s side as his father.

His wife was arrogant, cruel, and constantly cheating. For the child—and to protect my cover—I endured all of it.

Until today.

She drugged me.

When I woke up, a doctor was holding a blade over my chest. They were about to take my heart.

Lying on that operating table, I finally learned the truth: her family had been trafficking organs all along.

That man died three years ago because he discovered it, and she arranged the crash that killed him.

She murdered the man who saved me. Now she wants to kill me too.

She still thinks I’m the same weak doctor who gets out of breath after a short run.

She doesn’t know I’m resistant to anesthesia.

And she definitely doesn’t know these hands have held scalpels—and snapped far too many necks.

At the magic academy’s party, I overheard my werewolf boyfriend in the lounge saying he was going to destroy me.

"Alexander, her magic core is merely experiencing a temporary disruption. According to the academy infirmary's suturing protocol, her magical output will fully recover in three days. Why did you lie and tell her the core is necrotic and must be dug out?" the school doctor asked.

My werewolf boyfriend's deep voice was as cold as silver salt scraping across glass—

"If she doesn't drop out of the Magic Scroll Championship finals, how can Vivienne win?"
"I cannot let her destroy Vivienne's dream!"

I froze in the shadows of the corridor, my fingertips going numb.
It turned out that the love I believed in, the protection and the future he kept promising me, were nothing but him treating me as an obstacle to his childhood sweetheart's success.

If that’s the case—

I don't need this man anyway!

My mafia husband has a childhood sweetheart. Whenever she or her son needed anything, he would eagerly rush to their aid.
This time, when our son Noah suffered from acute retinopathy and desperately needed his signature for surgery, he claimed she was in mortal danger and couldn't leave.
Because he wasn't there to sign the paperwork, Noah ultimately went blind.
Yet later, on his sweetheart's Instagram, I saw that he was just dining with her and her son...

My twin sister, Genevieve, caught the eye of a mafia don, Kael Rourke, at a charity gala.
Kael declared on the spot that she would be his wife, the donna of Rourke family.
But she was already deeply in love with her boyfriend.
When a ambush left the Kael in a deep coma, his cartel demanded their bride immediately. 
They believed a wedding would stabilize their empire and, by some old tradition, wake Kael up.
Genevieve refused to marry a dead man walking.
So, she knocked me out—her identical twin sister—and sent me to the Rourke estate in her place. 

Then, she eloped overseas with her boyfriend, vanishing without a trace.
I was forced to marry Kael. Miraculously, on our wedding night, he woke up. He quickly took back his empire, his power greater than ever. 
Since I was forced into this marriage against my will, I resented him and never gave him a smile. 
And he only saw me as a substitute for Genevieve.
When he was happy, he spoiled me. When he was angry, he was cruel.

Ten years later, Genevieve suddenly returned.
She ran to Kael, crying that I had pushed her into a lake to steal her place as his wife.
She claimed the drowning caused her to lose her memory, making her miss out on ten years with him.
Furious, Kael ordered his men to lock me in the dark basement of his compound.
Taking advantage of a visit, Genevieve tightly wrapped a iron chain around my neck.
"I'm sorry, dear sister. If you don't die, my lies will be exposed one day!"
I was strangled to death cruelly.

When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day the Rourke men came to collect the bride.
I step forward willingly. "Genevieve, go with your boyfriend. I will marry Kael Rourke in your place!"
In this life, I must be the mafia don's true obsession!

I've been married to billionaire Joseph Miller for three years. Pregnant three times. Aborted three times.

Every time, my husband stood outside the operating room, watching them wheel me in.

The first baby, my mother-in-law Victoria said had spinal deformities. The second, my father-in-law Richard showed a "report" claiming heart defects.

I believed them. I thought it was my fault, something wrong with my body.

Until the third pregnancy.

This time I secretly went to another hospital—DNA showed 99.9% match with Joseph, every prenatal indicator perfect.

I rushed home clutching the report, thinking I could finally save my child.

Victoria glanced at it and tossed it on the coffee table. "You are carrying a healthy baby. But the Miller family doesn't need it."

My in-laws forcibly dragged me to the clinic. I screamed to Joseph for help: "That's your child!"

His eyes were red, but he still let them kill my baby.

Desperate, I demanded a divorce. He coldly refused, tearing at my clothes: "Stop being dramatic. Time for the fourth."

I finally understood—I wasn't his wife. I was their breeding machine.

But why? Why force me to keep getting pregnant, only to kill every healthy baby?

Until that night, I pushed open the attic door that had been locked for three years—

And finally understood everything.

At the family banquet, a power-hungry male special assistant projected a dimly lit bed photo onto the massive screen. He claimed he had slept with my wife—the heiress to the family—and demanded I walk away from the marriage with nothing.
While all the relatives were waiting for me to become the laughingstock, my eyes landed on a red rose burn scar in the corner of the photo. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He hadn't even turned on the bedside lamp. He had no idea that the woman he had just slept with was actually the wife of a psychopathic serial killer.

To the world, Silvana didn't exist. To her parents, she was a liability to be hidden. But when her sister, Morgana, flees on her wedding day to the Alpha King Garrick, Silvana becomes the ultimate sacrifice.

She must play the part of her sister. She must endure the touch of Garrick, a man whose reputation was built on the bones of his enemies. She expected a cold marriage of convenience, only to get the primal, soul searing pull of the mate bond.

One touch ignited the bond, One moonlit night revealed the truth, she was his mate, and he was the monster sworn to kill her. But as Silvana escapes his golden cage, she falls into the arms of a far more dangerous predator- the Rogue King- a man with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.

He's the mate she never expected, the shadow to Garrick's light. But as two Kings go to war for her heart, Silvana is about to realize that the most dangerous lie wasn't the one she told.....it was the one she was told.

Copyright © hunaboma 2025.

I woke up from a difficult labor, only to be told my baby was stillborn. For three years, I endured unbearable grief, praying and confessing before the priest every night, just hoping to see my child in a dream.
Everything changed at the hospital. I saw a little boy sweetly calling my college roommate “Mom”. My husband and my in-laws stood protectively beside her. I uncovered their brutal lie: that boy was my flesh and blood—the son I almost died to give birth to.
During my confrontation, one shocking secret after another came to light. When my husband begged me to donate my bone marrow and save the woman who stole my family, my child, and my life, I agreed.
But what waited for him was a far crueler truth.

"Pay us five million dollars, or I'll tell the world your son is a rapist."

That was the blackmail demand my new neighbor threw in my face. When I refused to pay, she took me to court.

Now, we are in a packed, live-streamed courtroom. Her daughter is crying on the witness stand in a neck brace, swearing my "heavily-muscled" son brutally attacked her in the backyard. Her sleazy lawyer is waving a fake DNA match at the jury. Protesters are screaming my name. My company’s stock is tanking.

They think they’ve backed a wealthy CEO into a corner.

But they were too stupid to check who actually lives in my house.

They want to meet the monster they accused? Fine. Let's see their faces when he walks through those doors.

I was dying, but honestly? Death felt like mercy.

As a vampire, I should have been immortal. But at six years old, I'd made a deal with a demon, gambling my fate on "true love"—if three times I failed to win the heart of the one I loved, the demon would claim my soul.

Just when I thought death was certain, I got pregnant. Morag, the demon, showed rare mercy, promising to wait until I gave birth.

But at eight months, my husband sneered about removing the "bastard." My brother didn't even flinch as he sliced open my belly. My parents cursed that I deserved it—all to save my sister Lycia, who'd somehow "returned from the dead."

The day they cut my child out, not one tear. Not for me.

So why, after I died, were they all on their knees at my grave, sobbing?

Her daughter lay dying—her only chance at survival resting in a bone marrow transplant from her biological father.
That man, the one Stella Johnson had once loved with all her heart, was nowhere to be found.
While Stella made call after call, hands trembling with desperation, Charles Hart was busy building a crystal castle for the daughter of his beloved white moonlight—lighting up the entire city with fireworks in her honor.
All Stella got in return was a cold, clipped response:
"I'm busy."
And then… silence.
She waited.
And waited.
Until the warmth left her daughter's tiny hand.
He never came.
Cradling the small urn, Stella stepped into the streets—only to be greeted by a cruel spectacle.
Every digital screen on the bustling boulevard played the same scene:
Charles, his white moonlight, and their daughter, smiling under the fireworks as they sang "Happy Birthday," basking in a future built on someone else's grave.
The love Stella once held for Charles didn't just die that night—it was burned to ash.
And from those ashes, something far stronger rose:
Hatred. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

My ex and I used to live inside a romance movie.

She was the heroine’s best friend. I was the hero’s loyal sidekick. When the leads got their happy ending, we—the two “extras”—ended up together like an afterthought.

Then the credits rolled, and real life didn’t. The heroine died in a car crash, the hero fell apart, and my girlfriend chose that moment to leave me.

She said she was done being a supporting role. She wanted the spotlight—she wanted the heroine’s place.

I didn’t beg. I left the city alone and started over from nothing.

Five years later, I returned with my own company group—and ran into her again at a charity gala.

She still looked flawless, moving through the room of power and money, keeping up the image of success. She assumed I was still the same guy trailing behind someone else, and she spoke to me with that familiar, pitying superiority—offering to “help” me back into the circle.

Until the lights dimmed, and the host read my name with respectful clarity, inviting me to the stage.

That was when she realized the gala’s biggest sponsor was me—and the “sidekick” she thought she’d left behind was now someone she could never reach again.

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

For five years of marriage, I endured my Alpha King husband's cold neglect because he claimed to suffer from "Bond Deficiency Syndrome," making him incapable of falling in love with his fated mate.

I took a silver bullet for him, yet when danger struck, he abandoned me without hesitation and ran to another woman.

It wasn't until I got pregnant with his Double Alpha heir and went to surprise him that I overheard his cold voice outside the door: "The illness is faked. Once she gives birth to the heir, this marriage can end."

It turned out he understood everything; he just didn't love me.

I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I faked my death during an attack, leaving behind nothing but a blood-soaked wedding ring.

Later, the Alpha King who claimed he couldn't feel love went completely mad.

He abandoned his territory and searched for me for a year and a half.

But when he finally knelt in the blizzard, begging me to come back, my child was resting on another man's shoulder, sweetly babbling the word "Daddy."

While I was being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in the horse stable of our own family farm, my all-powerful chaebol fiancée was helping my green tea younger brother try on wedding attire.
Before dying, with my broken, blood-stained finger, I dialed the last desperate call for help.
On the other end of the phone, her tone was filled with scorn and impatience: "Vincent, can't you even tolerate a little grievance from your younger brother? Let's just cancel the engagement, and I'll replace you with him as the groom."
Later, I truly died.
My soul drifted in mid-air, watching coldly as the whole family thought I was faking death to make a scene. My older sister even kicked over my disfigured body on the haystack in disgust: "Get up right now, stop pretending to be pitiful here!"
Until the flashlight's beam completely illuminated my ghastly, rigid face, and the shattered phone screen, still stuck on the moment she hung up, clutched tightly in my dead hand...
That forever aloof, arrogant female CEO finally went weak in the knees, kneeling in the foul-smelling, blood-soaked filth, and utterly lost her mind.

For Joey, I shouldered the blame for a commercial crime and survived five years behind bars—alone, even through a miscarriage.

With only five days left on my sentence, his secretary flaunted a “bonus” transfer from him—521,314—and when I left one mild comment, she blocked me.

I got released early on Christmas, wanting to surprise my husband. Instead, I pushed open our bedroom door and found Joey and Betty in our marital bed, deep in their sick little games.

And then I overheard a phone call that shattered everything: my little sister, Sansa, hadn’t died from a surgical “accident” at all. Joey had bribed the surgeon and had her heart cut out—so his mistress could gain a werewolf’s healing ability and keep having some perverted sex on bed.

He lied to me, used me, murdered my sister—and still mocked me for I was nothing without him.

I have guarded the Abyss on the Ashen Plains for a thousand years.

My daily routine: chewing rock-hard rye bread, single-handedly crushing the skulls of trespassing demons, wiping their slime off on a ragged surcoat, and leaning against a bronze pillar to catch the wind.

Today, a dying girl stumbled into the wasteland. Her fingers were locked in a death grip around the bloodstained iron crest I had left behind a millennium ago. Up on the ridge, three hundred heavy cavalrymen of the Alliance drew their lances, forming a wall of steel as they closed in.

I stared at the blood on the ground. I didn't make a sound.

I just brushed the biscuit crumbs off my lap and stretched my stiff neck. Turning around, my fingers hooked onto the hilt of a rust-eaten battleaxe resting beneath the bronze pillar. I dragged it along with casual ease.

"Troublesome."

I muttered that single word, and walked alone toward the formation of steel.

My wife and in-laws have been acting strange lately.

They've always hated the Texas farm, but now they suddenly care about me and the ranch.

My wife, who used to complain about me spending money on the "doomsday bunker" farmhouse project, is now actually encouraging me to complete it.

They even say I've been working too hard and bought me a plane ticket to Mexico.

Just as I'm about to take the ticket, a barrage comment appears before my eyes—

【Don't go! Your wife has been reborn from the apocalypse—she wants you to die out there!】

Three years ago, Grant divorced me while I was pregnant.
That same day, I was in a car accident, and our baby didn’t survive. Grant never found out because he was celebrating another woman’s birthday.
Three years later, he decided that the son I had raised was his. He took the boy away without permission and exposed him to a cat, triggering a severe allergic reaction that nearly killed him.
When Grant finally knelt and begged me to take him back, I told him only one thing:
“I stopped loving you a long time ago.”

On my first day as an intern at the zoo, the old director assigned us animals to care for.
In my previous life, my classmate Jack chose the easy-to-care-for African elephant, while I was forced to take on the brutal Siberian tiger.
A month later, the apocalypse struck, and the Siberian tiger successfully evolved, leading me to escape the encirclement.
Jack's elephant, however, couldn't outrun the mutated species and was torn to pieces. Driven
by jealousy, the surviving Jack incited a mob to brutally beat me and the giant tiger to death, dismembering and cannibalizing us.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the animals were assigned.
Jack had already taken the Siberian tiger, pushing the elephant to me, and I knew he had also been reborn.
But what he didn't know was that the Siberian tiger he had devoured was also reborn with me.

Six years ago, Marlowe Kestrel drowned in the Duskhaven canals, or at least that is what the obituary said, what the empty coffin implied, and what every ruling House in the city has believed ever since.

In reality she swam two streets over, bribed a mortician with a forged signature, and built herself a new, gloriously unremarkable life as a small time magical forger who fixes other people's problems for coin and never, ever asks about bloodlines. It was a good plan.

It worked for six entire years, which is roughly five years and eleven months longer than anyone expected a Kestrel to survive in hiding. Then Jonas, the only man alive who knew her real name, turns up dead in his own workshop with a mark burned into his palm that Marlowe has spent her whole life trying to forget she carries too, and the only lead worth following belongs to Cassian Draven, heir to the most feared criminal House in the city, a man with a smile like a drawn blade and a family reputation built on making problems disappear as thoroughly as Marlowe once did herself.

Cassian recognizes her in under a minute, does not turn her in, and instead offers a deal she has no good reason to accept and every practical reason to take, pose as his fiancée at the season's summit of ruling Houses, help him smoke out whoever is hunting them both, and maybe, if she is very lucky and very careful, walk away with her second fake death arranged before anyone notices the first one was fake too.

The trouble is, the longer she spends pretending to love a Draven, the harder it gets to remember that hating him was ever supposed to be the easy part.