3370 Book(s) Related to my stepmoms daughter was my ex-girlfriend

"What gives a scarred freak like you the right to stand next to him?"
Four years ago, a brutal attack left a hideous burn scar across the left side of my face. Ever since, I've hidden behind a black mask, fading into the darkest corners of St. Oak High. I thought if I just stayed perfectly invisible, I could survive high school in peace.
Then Michael came back.
He's the President of Model UN, an Ivy-League-bound genius, and the golden boy everyone revolves around. And me? I’m just a damaged outcast too terrified to show my own face.
The harder I pushed him away, the closer he got.
But when a video from four years ago surfaces—showing him throwing a punch just to defend me—his flawless future is suddenly on the line. That's when I knew I couldn't hide in the shadows anymore.
This time, even if it means exposing my ugliest scars to the harsh light of day, I will do whatever it takes to protect him.

I woke up back on the night Rhys’s Blood Tide Frenzy hit.
This time, I wouldn’t offer my blood to calm him. Instead, I sent an urgent Message Crystal to Seraphina—his precious white moonlight.
In my past life, I saw Rhys’s Blood Tide spiraled out of control, threatening to tear his body apart.
In my past life, when he commanded me to call Seraphina, I had let my pathetic, unrequited love blind me.
I offered my own body as the cure, desperately weaving the Origin Blood Seal with him.
Not long after, I fell pregnant with his half-blood child.
He had no choice but to plan our wedding. On the big day, Seraphina was ambushed by blood hunters.
She sent ninety-nine distress blood signals, yet he was tied up with wedding duties and never saw a single one.
After his beloved nearly died, he laid every ounce of blame on me.
When I went into labor, he locked me away in the Blood Dungeon. He drained every drop of my Origin Blood in a ritual meant to resurrect Seraphina, leaving me and our unborn baby to die in agony.
As my life slipped away, his words echoed in my ears: I’d ruined his one true love, and both me and the child deserved to perish.
When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to that night.

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

Seven years ago, Alpha Matthew's fiancée Elvira ran off with another alpha. I was just his assistant back then, harboring a secret crush but never imagining we could be together.

That night I picked him up from the bar. He was drunk and had been drugged. One night later I was pregnant, and Matthew became convinced I was the one who drugged him, that I'd schemed my way into becoming his luna. He hated me, but still gave me the title of secret mate. No mating ceremony, just a contract. My son and I lived in the guest wing of his estate for seven years.

Last night he drunkenly spun Liam around in circles. My son thought he was finally being accepted. But I heard the name Matthew was murmuring—Elvira. She was coming back, with her son.

I held my transfer request to the Eastern Region. This time, we're done waiting.

Sydney is reborn on National Decision Day after being betrayed and killed by her boyfriend Carter, her childhood friend Julian, and the scheming Harper.
Determined not to be their cash cow and victim again, she uses her family’s power to expose their crimes and fake innocent personas in front of Beverly Hills elites.
Ruined and desperate, the three traitors turn on each other and die on the same rooftop where they murdered her. Sydney finally breaks free and starts a brilliant new life at Harvard.

Nobody would believe that I, Sienna, the glamorous CEO's wife in the eyes of outsiders, couldn't even scrape together two decent outfits in my closet after three years of marriage.   And no one knew that every single cent I spent in private—from my brother's life-saving medical bills down to a pack of tampons—had to go through my husband's childhood sweetheart and personal assistant via a so-called corporate expense approval system.   I lived like a beggar, groveling for scraps under his assistant's watchful eye.   It wasn't until my critically ill brother's life-saving funds were maliciously rejected, turning my only remaining soft spot in this world to ashes, that this absurd marriage finally came to an end.

A 250-pound girl stole my body.

Over the phone, she cackled triumphantly, "Your flawless face, your wealth... it's all mine now!"

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the heavy layers of fat that used to be hers. I didn't scream. I didn't beg for it back.

Instead, I hung up the phone, let out a long breath of relief, and just started laughing.

She thought she had stolen the glamorous, perfect life of a Hollywood socialite.

But she had no idea that in just a few hours, the severe drug withdrawals in that body would hit. She didn’t know that my cold-blooded mother would soon be standing over her with a loaded syringe, and a greasy, powerful producer was waiting in a penthouse bed to pin her down.

Since she wanted my life so desperately...

Let her walk through the gates of hell herself.

My three-year-old daughter hides behind the sofa whenever I try to hold her now.

“Mommy is scary,” she whispers, clutching her stuffed bear like a shield.

I thought it was just a toddler’s overactive imagination.

Until I checked the camera feed in my own bedroom.

I watched a woman who looked exactly like me step out of the shadows of our antique mirror, slip into my husband’s bed, and kiss him.

The man I loved and the family I trusted became my worst nightmares. They destroyed my child and tortured me to death over a blood curse. Reborn once more, I hold all the painful memories. I will tear off their masks of kindness, seek justice, and flee far away to start a brand new life, free from all suffering and betrayal.

Everyone says I’m crazy.
My husband, Adrien, is Ashmont College’s most esteemed professor—suave, composed, and highly logical. I, on the other hand, am an investigative journalist whose nerves are fried by looming deadlines and too much caffeine. Yet, I insist there’s a woman who shares my exact face, who crawls out of our bedroom mirror every night and slips into my husband’s bed.
Our security cameras always "happen" to glitch at the crucial moments. My son avoids me like I’m a monster, and my neighbors claim they cheerfully greeted "me" in the driveway a few days ago—even though I don't even own a vintage pink dress.
Adrien has started dropping phrases like "psych evaluation" and "sole custody." If I let this drag on any longer, he’s going to personally commit me to a psych ward.
So tonight, I lied about flying to Chicago. Instead, I’m hiding in my own study—waiting for that identical face to crawl out of the mirror one more time.

I spent fifteen years taking beatings in the Bronx hellhole — beatings meant for my mother.
She's a Manhattan heiress now. Chanel suits, a daughter on her arm, and eyes full of disgust whenever they land on my hollowed-out frame.
"You're just like your disgusting father. A sewer rat. You've always reeked of something rotten."
What she doesn't know: on that rainy night fifteen years ago, I wrapped my arms around that man's legs and let him kick me half to death, so she could run.
What she also doesn't know: the tumor in my stomach has spread. I won't survive the winter.
I'd made my peace with dying alone, quietly, so I wouldn't disturb the perfect life she'd built. I swallowed the blood rising in my throat and started walking toward the dark.
Then came the dinner party, a few months later. Her daughter shoved me off a second-floor balcony.
I hit the ground at her feet like a broken doll. Dark red blood flooded across her white heels.
I watched the color drain from her face. With the last breath I had, I apologized.
"Don't be scared. This piece of garbage won't dirty your eyes anymore."

At my engagement dinner, my fiancé asked me to sign the prenup that killed me once before.

Last time, Adrian smiled, kissed my hand, and promised I would never be alone again. Three weeks later, debt collectors came for money I had never borrowed, black veins crawled under my skin, and his dying mother walked out of hospice in pearls.

This time, I turned to the second page first.

My name was already printed there.

Beside it was a date that had not happened yet.

Under it was another bride’s name.

A woman declared dead twenty-three years ago.

For eighteen years, my mother counted every pill I swallowed.
She kissed my forehead every night. She told me I was born broken. She said no one would ever love me the way she did, and I believed her.
Then, on my eighteenth birthday, a voice inside my head screamed: Don’t swallow that.
Her name is Vera. She’s my wolf. And she says there’s nothing wrong with my legs.
Now the woman who sang me to sleep is watching me with glowing green eyes. The only person who can help me is the stranger next door, who smells like cedar and danger. And I have one question I’m terrified to ask:
What was she so afraid I’d become?

The day college decisions came out, my parents bought my twin sister a Porsche.
It was my eighteenth birthday too. Nobody brought it up. I stood in the doorway in my diner uniform while the whole room sang her name.
That night the four of them went out to dinner to celebrate her. The car only sat four, so my father handed me a hundred dollars and told me to order myself something at home.
Four days later, six thousand four hundred dollars vanished from my account. Two years of washing dishes, gone to her sorority dues. My mother's name was on the account, so it wasn't even illegal.
I didn't scream and I didn't beg. I went upstairs and clicked Accept on the full ride to MIT that had been sitting in my inbox for three days.
Nobody in that house ever wanted me. So I booked a one-way ticket, cut myself out of the family photo, and left my key on the shoe rack.
I wasn't coming back. Not for graduation. Not for any of them.

Five months after Arthur died in the line of duty, my stepmother-in-law, Martha, dragged me into a private clinic in Seattle and tried to force me to end my pregnancy.
The consent form had barely come off the printer when a tiny, milk-sweet voice exploded inside my head—
Mommy, run! Daddy isn't dead! They've got him locked up in a veterans' rehab center outside the city, and they're brainwashing him!
Last time, you believed that wicked grandma. I never got born, and when Daddy found out the truth, he lost his mind!
I tore the form in half right there and stormed off to the rehab center, belly first.
I had just reached the door of the assessment room when I heard a woman's voice inside—the counselor—holding Arthur's hand and murmuring, "Captain, let go of the past. We can start over."
I lifted my foot and kicked that solid-wood door as hard as I could.

Foxes are born to bless their mates, unlocking their bloodline and putting them on the throne of the Beast King.

In my last life, the Golden Lion prince Rein picked me, and my sister Lilith got stuck marrying Austin, the black dragon everyone steered clear of.

Then Austin's bloodline woke up and he took the throne, and Lilith rode his coattails straight into a crown.

I threw everything I had into blessing Rein and it never worked. He blamed me for every failure, dug my core out with his own hands, and tossed me into a cell like trash, leaving me there to rot.

Now I'm back, and at the mating ceremony, Rein walks right past me and takes Lilith's hand instead.

That's when I know. He's been reborn too.

But he has no idea. It was never my fault the blessing failed. He was never going to hold power, no matter who blessed him. That throne was never his to take.

My twin sister and I were born on the same day. She got the love. I got the debt.
Some doctor told my parents I stole Colette's immune system in the womb, and after that, the rule was simple: every time she got sick, I had to hurt worse. Fever meant the basement. Below freezing, no blanket, no socks, door padlocked from the outside.
I was seventeen and I weighed under seventy pounds. My teeth were coming loose. My hair was falling out.
Then, on the coldest night of the year, something moved behind the cracked mirror in the basement. A man in a tailcoat. He said he could give me anything, as long as I could pay.
All I wanted was a blanket and a piece of bread.
He asked what I had left to trade.
I didn't have anything. So I offered him my last years.

I inherited my mother’s breathtaking beauty, while my sister was cursed with our father’s plain, vulgar looks.
Consumed by jealousy, she married early and settled into a mundane life, while I was kept entirely imprisoned by our mother—forbidden to date, forbidden to marry.
Whenever I brought a boyfriend home, my mother would take him into that mysterious locked bathroom.
Every single man who walked out of there would have glazed eyes and a flushed look of utter ecstasy. Then, without fail, they would coldly abandon me. Even the man who swore to marry me completely succumbed—to the point where he was having sex with my mother in the garden in broad daylight!
What’s even more bizarre is that whenever any female relative stepped into that bathroom, they came out looking at me with vicious hatred, joining forces to spit on me.
Betrayed by everyone and pushed to the brink, I decided to flee this demonic house in the dead of night.
But the moment I peeked through the crack of the door and finally caught a glimpse inside that bathroom, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
Only then did I horrifyingly realize the true reason my mother was willing to destroy my entire life...

I never imagined that the most humiliating secret of my life would be laid bare in a flimsy tent in the middle of nowhere.

Even less did I imagine that the person witnessing my unraveling would be Sebastian. He’s the CEO of a top-tier conglomerate, my direct boss, and, most damningly, my ex’s stepfather.

A freak accident left us stranded in the jungle late at night. Inside that cramped, suffocating tent, the air felt scorching, almost unbearable. Worst of all, in my rush to leave, I’d forgotten to bring the medication that suppresses my “craving disorder.”

When that sickening desire surged through me like a tidal wave, when his body heat pressed against my back through his shirt, I could only bite my lip hard, teetering on the edge of shame and instinct.

“Mr. Blackwood, please… stay away from me.”

In my past life, I was shoved into oncoming traffic by my husband's widowed cousin, Isabella.
"Why do you get the perfect husband and the Romano fortune? Go to hell!"
I died, and my unborn child died with me. Up until my last breath, I thought she killed me out of purely manic, bitter jealousy.
When I opened my eyes, I was back at that exact crosswalk, rewound to the second she was about to push me.
Only this time, I stepped aside.
And I finally learned the truth. She wasn't just an envious widow—she was my husband's secret lover. And the one who paid the million-dollar bounty for my murder to steal my mafia empire was the "flawless" man sleeping in my bed.

A horrific car crash left me paralyzed.
The doctors said I'd never walk again. With no family left, my Aunt Martha and Uncle Thomas took me to their isolated farmhouse.
They cared for me, promising their treatments would help me walk again. After everything I'd been through, I thought I'd finally found safety.
Until today, when the feeling in my legs suddenly came back—but something told me not to tell them.

I was dragged to the stand of the MRI Memory Court by my own flesh and blood.

Their demand? To forcibly extract my kidney to keep their uremic adopted daughter alive.

A guilty verdict meant losing not just my bodily autonomy, but my freedom for the rest of my life.

Bathed in the global spotlight, my parents performed as tragic heroes, while their adopted saint cried a river of deceit.

They thought they had cornered the perfect victim, waiting for the world to send me to the slaughter.

But the moment the memory holograms ignited and reality bled through, the hunters instantly became the hunted.

I am Nerissa Calvino, the illegitimate daughter of the Vespucci mafia family—a stain on their pristine name.
All I ever wanted was a quiet life, spent in the arms of Carmine, a simple doctor. But my half-sister, Renata, fell terminally ill and was declared infertile. To preserve the alliance between the Vespucci and Arcuri families, a filthy transaction was struck: I was to be the surrogate for Renata’s fiancé, Silvano, bearing the heir that would bind their syndicates together.
They threatened Carmine’s life. To save him, I had to spit venom, shredding our love to pieces with my own hands.
In public, Silvano was the perfect, doting fiancé to my sister. But in the dark, he locked me away, claiming my body with ruthless gravity.
When news of my pregnancy broke, the entire estate rejoiced. Only I remained trapped in a living nightmare.
Torn between a past I couldn’t return to and a forbidden entanglement I couldn't escape, I wondered: would I ever reclaim my own life?

On the third day after my death, Massimo got the call.
His arm was around another woman. He didn't even flinch.
"Dead is dead," he said. "Burn her, then call me."
He came to the crematorium two hours late. He took my ashes, dropped them on the floor, and stepped on them like they were dirt.
"Tell Tess," he said, "if she's still alive, she can crawl back and beg. If she's really dead, I'll dig her up and flog the corpse myself."
I was right there, screaming without a voice.
Later, he pulled out his phone and called my number. It went straight to voicemail.
"Tess Reinhardt," he said, his jaw tight. "If you don't pick up, you're dead to me."
He still didn't know.
I was already dead.
And he was the only one who would never believe it.

When my Alpha told me a rogue faction was going to destroy our Pack, I volunteered as a hostage to keep him safe.
Three years in a cage. Branded with silver. Broken like a feral. Every rogue in that compound had me. The only thing that kept me alive was a toxic root that numbed the pain — and was slowly killing me from the inside.
Then my Alpha showed up and told me the truth.
There was never any threat. He'd staged the whole thing — hired the rogues, built the compound. Because I'd embarrassed his precious Cora in front of the Pack, and he needed me to "learn my place."
Now he wanted me back. Wanted to make me his Luna again.
But I wasn't the same woman who walked into that cage. And the truth about what happened to me there?
He didn't believe a word of it.
Not until I was already dead.

There's a heavy iron door at the end of the hall. Anyone who steps inside returns with eyes full of hatred. That’s all it took for the basement to turn my gentle fiancé into a predator and my loyal best friend into an enemy. Now, I'm trapped with a mother who claims the violence is all in my head. I have to open that door.

He broke down the morgue door, his guttural scream echoing off the cold tiles as he yanked open drawer after drawer.

"Emily!"

Ethan's hands shook violently as he pulled it open. She lay inside, a white sheet draped over her face. With trembling fingers, he peeled back the fabric. Her face was paper-white, lips bloodless, her eyelashes casting faint shadows. So still.

This wasn't the Emily he knew. The Emily he knew could smile, could cry, could clumsily try to warm his frozen heart. But now, she was just a corpse. A corpse because of him.

"Cancer... stage four..." he whispered, drowning in a tidal wave of panic.

He remembered all those times she had clutched her stomach in agony, and he had mocked her. He remembered demanding she give her heart to his lover. He remembered her final silent words through the surgical glass: "I hate you."

"AHHH—!!" A raw scream tore from his throat. He slammed his fist into the metal drawer, blood blooming across his knuckles.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her stiff, freezing body into his arms. She was so light. Like holding air.

"Emily, I was wrong. I was so wrong," he choked out, crying for the first time in years. "Wake up. Hit me. Hate me. I'm begging you..."

But death is the most absolute silence of all. How far will a man go when he realizes he murdered his only salvation?

I loved Julian for ten years, carving every sweat-stained day into my love for him.
He once said I shined brighter than any gold medal.
Yet in five short minutes, he handed my dream, my glory, and my whole world to a scheming transfer girl.
Betrayed, discarded, and broken on the fencing strip, I lost my first love and everything I fought for.
Until the retired cold Olympic champion stepped out of the dark midnight shadows.
He offered me hellish training and a sharp blade of revenge.
I buried my soft heart, handed over my soul, and vowed to make every traitor pay.

Ninety-nine times.

I was sent to the punishment chamber ninety-nine times by my mafia don fiancé.

Each time, he watched through bulletproof glass with cold, detached eyes—watching me being deprived of sleep, injected with drugs, tortured until I was barely clinging to life.

"Elara, you're paying for what you did to the Mancuso family."

For the sake of sweet, innocent Yvette—his precious savior—he personally destroyed everything I had.

After the ninety-ninth time, the doctor handed me a critical condition notice. I stopped begging, signed the confession, and vanished completely with my broken body.

The result? When the truth finally came to light, the ruthless don went completely insane.

Ten years ago, my mate faked his death in the war and ran off with his childhood sweetheart.
No goodbye. No contact since.
All he left me were two things — a debt of six hundred and eighty thousand, and a notice declaring him lost, stamped four years later by people who'd never met him.
The bank took our den. I moved into a shared burrow-flat at the edge of the settlement.
Three jobs after hours. Sold blood. Scrubbed latrines. Tested tonics for the healers until my nose stopped working right.
Ten years to pay off the debt. A desk at the Missing and Fallen Registry Office, once the ceasefire finally came.
My first case file was a man the law had already declared dead.
He said he'd been young and reckless. Walked out. Never looked back.
Now his family's land was due a war reparations payout, and he needed his name restored to collect it.
I stared at the name on the form. Recognized it instantly.
Smiled.
"Insufficient documentation. Application denied."

Oscar winner Adrian Pierce announced his divorce at midnight.

Hours later, his ex-wife ended a ten-thousand-word farewell with one line for me:

Claire Sutton, you won.

Adrian is yours.

By breakfast, half the internet wanted to know why I'd destroyed their marriage.

I wanted to know, too.

After all, I'd been secretly married for eight years.

Why would I want her ex-husband?

In my first life, my fiancé helped his sister frame me for a fatal hit-and-run.

I went to prison, my mother died begging for my freedom, and the lawyer who tried to save me lost everything.

When I woke up on the afternoon of the crash, I didn't run from the police.

I made sure they arrested me first.

The day I presented as an omega, I caught my boyfriend cheating.
Then my first heat hit early.
With no suppressants left, I had only one person to ask for help: Adrian Holt—my infuriatingly perfect alpha roommate.
“Do you have a suppressant?”
Adrian glanced at my tear-streaked face.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “I’m out.”
Desperate, I made him an offer neither of us could take back.
“Then bite me. Just a temporary mark.”
What I didn’t know was that Adrian had plenty of suppressants.
And nothing about the way he wanted me was temporary.

“I, Alpha Daniel Caldwell, reject you, Amber Osborne, as my mate.”
On the day of my wedding, my destined mate, Alpha Daniel, publicly severed our bond.
And then, he completed his marriage registration with Camelia Hodges.
As the crowd erupted into mocking laughter and ridiculed me, Beta Theodore West stepped forward, pulling out a diamond ring. With heartfelt sincerity, he proposed to me.
Even if he wasn’t my fated mate.
Feeling moved, I nodded and consented to marry him. When I was seven months pregnant, I was ambushed by a rogue wolf pack. In the end, Theodore arrived with his army, saving my life.
When I regained consciousness, he was sitting beside me, his eyes filled with sorrow. He told me that the baby hadn’t made it and that I would never be able to have pups again.
Devastated, I broke down. He wrapped his arms around me, and with tears streaming down his face, Theodore apologized for not being able to protect me. He swore to stay by my side forever.

My long-lost twin sister has returned.
The first thing she did was demand to marry my fiancé.
Jayden, murmuring apologies, held her close as they walked into the city hall.
My family urged me to be generous, saying, "After all she’s been through, you owe her this much. You've had a good life all these years—why not let her have this?"
Until the day of their wedding, no one could find me.
But what they didn't know was that my body had been drifting at sea for over ten days.

I thought I was the Jones family's "legitimate wife."
Until the day I saw it with my own eyes, my husband, Carter, resting his hand on my stepsister Nora's bump belly, gentle like he was cradling the future.
Everyone told me to be "big-heated": when the baby was born, they'd put it under my name, make him call me Mom, because the family needed an "heir."
Even the private doctor they hired announced it in front of everyone—steady heartbeat, and from the ultrasound, it looked like a boy.
I didn't cry and didn't make a scene.
I just picked up the phone and told my lawyer to initiate the divestment.
Twenty-four hours later, Carter's cards were frozen, his projects got their loans yanked, and assets started getting seized—
That's when he finally understood: he hadn't betrayed a wife.
He'd betrayed the lifeline of the entire family.
But what I really wanted to know was—
When he dropped to his knees and begged me to come back, would I tell him— I had already picked out his grave?

I am a mermaid.

To walk toward him, I swallowed a dark potion, shedding my tail for a pair of legs.
Every step felt like treading on sharp blades, yet I endured it all willingly.
He took me in, promising to protect me for the rest of my life.

Then, his ex-lover returned.

She orchestrated one accident after another to frame me—a slashed costume, a staged fall down the stairs... And every single time, convenient "eyewitnesses" immediately pointed their fingers at me.

He believed them all.

Until a falling stage light crushed her legs.
He pinned me to the operating table, personally severed my legs, and transplanted them onto that woman.

What he didn't know was that anyone who walked on these legs would have to suffer the excruciating agony of stepping on knives.
He simply told me coldly: "You ruined her ability to dance, so you will pay with your legs."

That night, alone and broken, I wheeled myself to the beach.
Using only my bare hands, I crawled across the coarse sand, into the crashing waves, and returned to my true home.

——Leaving him to stare at the security monitors, watching helplessly as I sank into the dark sea, never to surface again.

I was breathtakingly beautiful.

When I turned eighteen, I became linked to a system that let me share my beauty.

My younger sister, Chloe Bennett, spent an entire night crying under her covers because everyone in her class had a cruel nickname for her. Without telling her, I gave her seventy percent.

By the end of summer, she was the prettiest girl at school. I was someone nobody noticed.

Mom squeezed Chloe’s cheeks and beamed. “Look at you, all grown up. You get those looks from me.”

Then she looked at me and curled her lip. “You get uglier every year. If I’d known, I would’ve left you at the hospital.”

Later, Chloe said she wanted to be a star. I raised her share to ninety percent.

My family sold whatever they could to put her through a televised talent competition. Dad pointed at me.

“With that face, you can be your sister’s maid. Bring her drinks and stay out of sight.”

Chloe made it all the way to the finals and won the lead spot in the new girl group.

That night, she was trending.

[CHLOE BENNETT’S JEALOUS SISTER GETS PLASTIC SURGERY]

She wiped away tears for the camera. “My sister had surgery, and it went wrong. Now she yells at me every day, saying I stole her face. I’m scared she’ll cut me in my sleep.”

The comments called me a hideous freak. Someone posted our address, and red paint was splashed across our front door.

That evening, Chloe went live to thank her fans, the camera close to her radiant face.

“All natural. I got this face from my parents.”

Mom and Dad sat on the couch, grinning from ear to ear.

I opened the system panel.

[CURRENT BEAUTY SHARE: 90%]

Fine. If her parents had given her that face, she wouldn’t need mine.

I was taking it back.

When Catherine Meyers started a new school in New York all she wanted was to be invincible. She was okay with being in the background. She planned to finish high school with a good GPA and go to Harvard. She wanted to be a neurosurgeon.

But her hopes were shattered when a force from the past which she couldn't remember barged into her life again.
And this time he promised to ruin her.

Ace Hampton was the King of Riverside highschool and Catherine Meyers is the rose he vowed to remove her petals one after the other until she is gone.

Her father killed his father, how dare she act like she doesn't know him?

He remembers her but she couldn't remember him and he would make her pay.

★★★
WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES AND BEHAVIORS THAT MIGHT SEEM WEIRD TO OTHER PEOPLE SO IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED PLEASE AVOID THIS BOOK.
BE WARNED THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE BOOK.

My father sold me to the Dragon Academy for the price of one dead wolf, tossing me into a hall full of monsters who wanted to eat me alive. "She has no shift. She has no use. The dragons will take her," he said, leaving me in heavy iron chains that bit into my bone. The beautiful, cruel dragon students laughed. "Prey," one of them dropped the word at my feet. "Maybe it's lunch." I was property. A broken wolf girl meant to cancel out a debt. But then the hall went dead quiet. The Dragon King's son walked in. He didn't look at me like I was a price tag. He looked at me like a predator realizing the floor beneath it wasn't solid. His pale gold eyes snapped to mine, and the temperature in the room skyrocketed. "Who brought her here," his voice was low, dangerous. He crouched in front of me, his fingers closing tight around my forearm. He turned my wrist toward the light, exposing the faint silver tracery under my skin—the mark my father swore would get me killed. The breath went out of the prince. His hand tightened until it bruised. "That mark," he whispered so only I could hear, "belongs to the bloodline my family slaughtered."

It was hard for Charlotte to let go of her best friend, Dalton, the boy she fell in love with since she was nine years old, to make way for her sister, Caroline, who happens to be in love with him too. It was hard for her but in order to make someone happy, even if it meant sacrificing her own, she was willing to let go.

It all happened around her senior year, where she let go of the only thing that mattered to her and after graduation, she moved away with no intention of going back.

Four years later, on her college graduation day, her parents rather demanded her to come home with a reason that shocked her senseless.

I was the proudest kept woman in Chicago, and Adrian Sterling, the most powerful heir in the city, treated me like a queen.
Then a broke college girl with a sob story walked into his life.
He brought her to his grandfather's birthday dinner and ordered me to apologize to her in front of everyone.
I took off the nine-figure pink diamond he'd given me and handed it to her.
He froze my cards. He took the venue for my jewelry show and gave it to her charity auction.
When she broke the only thing my mother ever left me, he told me to get on my knees and beg her forgiveness.
That night, I left with my passport and the pieces of my mother's pendant.
Five years later, at a gala in Paris, his champagne glass hit the floor the moment I walked in.
He pushed through a room full of billionaires and grabbed my wrist.
"Evelyn. Come home with me."
I looked down at his hand.

In my first life, blinded by greed, I claimed to be that mysterious woman. Silas glanced at my left shoulder and said coldly, "No butterfly tattoo." His bodyguards dragged me to the backyard and shattered my ribs with a baseball bat.
In my second life, Cleo learned from my mistake. She got the butterfly tattoo at an underground parlor. But Silas lifted her skirt and sneered, "No birthmark on her inner thigh." We were thrown into the frozen lake behind the mountain.
"Find her. She's in the West Wing." Silas Brennan's cold command echoed through the Brennan Estate again. Cleo and I locked eyes, terror gripping us.
We were the only maids in the West Wing.

Jalena Leigh was born into one of the most powerful magical families in the Eastern Kingdom.

There was only one problem.

She had no magic.

While her triplet brother became a celebrated Imperial General and her sister blossomed into one of Bouvier’s most gifted mages, Jalena was hidden away in the attic—erased from her family’s name and raised more like a servant than a duke’s daughter.

For twenty years, she accepted her place.

Until a royal marriage proposal arrives from the feared Northern King, Remerian Vaughn.

The proposal was intended for a daughter of the Leigh family.

And Jalena’s family knows exactly which daughter they’re willing to sacrifice.

Sent into the frozen North to marry a powerful king she has never met, Jalena expects cruelty, rejection, and perhaps even death once Remerian discovers his bride possesses no mana.

Instead, she finds warmth in the coldest kingdom.

A castle that welcomes her.

People who call her My Lady.

And a husband who looks at the forgotten daughter of House Leigh as though she might be the most precious thing he has ever been given.

But the Leigh family made one terrible mistake.

Jalena was never magicless.

The power sleeping inside her is ancient, extraordinary, and so rare that the magical world has nearly forgotten it exists.

Now the daughter they discarded is awakening.

The North has found its greatest mage.

Its king may have found his greatest love.

And when the family who sacrificed Jalena finally realizes exactly who they threw away…

They’ll discover the North has no intention of giving her back.

In my third year at the Eden Center, I forgot how to play guitar, forgot the rhythm of rock and roll, and forgot the name Melody.
They used twelve thousand electric shocks and seven hundred hours of sleep deprivation to scrub my name down to Number 2963.
Now, I'm their perfect instrument. No preferences, no pain, only commands.
My parents finally got the perfect daughter they'd always dreamed of—until the day they ordered me to die.

I was their real daughter.

The lost princess they found, brought home, and promised to protect.

But every time she cried, I was the one punished.

Every time she bled, I was the one accused.

When she disappeared, they said it was my fault. They tore my memories apart to prove it.

Fine , only if they stand where I stood, feel what I felt, will they ever know my pain.

I was falsely accused of killing my sister. My husband personally sent me to prison. Three years later, he picked me up, and that very night he stripped off my clothes and fucked me brutally.

He said, "The child your sister and I had together has a heart condition. You have to give birth to a baby to save him. This is what you owe your sister!"

Maya has been secretly in love with Liam Miller, her best friend Chloe's older brother, for years even though she knows he is five years older and completely off-limits. When Liam gives her his hoodie in the rain and tells her she is growing up dangerously fast, Maya's carefully hidden feelings begin to surface. On Liam's twenty-first birthday they are left alone and share a kiss that changes everything, but Liam pulls away saying Maya is too young and this cannot happen. Maya tries to move on by agreeing to attend Spring Formal with Noah, but Liam cannot handle watching her with someone else. When their forbidden relationship explodes into a public scandal, they face backlash and accusations that tear both families apart, Maya and Liam must decide if their love is worth the price or if some lines should never be crossed.

Isadora Bellini spent her entire life living in the shadow of her twin sister, Giulia—but nothing hurt more than the moment their childhood best friend and her fated mate, Capo Lorenzo, chose Giulia over her. Shattered and humiliated, Isadora disappeared from the Luna Nera Clan, carving out a quiet life among humans. Eight years later, she’s dragged back to the one place she promised never to return—for Giulia’s funeral. What begins as a painful farewell quickly spirals into a storm of secrets, guilt, and dangerously unresolved emotions.
Lorenzo isn’t the same confident Capo who once broke her heart—he’s grieving, broken, and searching for answers. But so is Isadora. As truths begin to unravel—about Giulia’s betrayal, Lorenzo’s rejection, and a past that refuses to stay buried—Isadora finds herself caught between the scars of yesterday and the pull of a bond she tried to erase.
In a world where fate is sealed by blood and moonlight, and love can be the sharpest weapon of all… will Isadora risk everything to uncover the truth, or let her pain write the ending for her?
When love feels like betrayal, how do you trust what your heart still wants?

“You are going to suck my dick like a good girl.” He commanded, slapping his dick on my already stick out tongue. I wrapped my full lips around him and began bobbing my head up and down.

“I am going to cum but I still need to fuck your little pussy so good.” He pulled out of my mouth and pushed me down onto the bed.

“Fuck, you are so wet and dripping.” He groaned when he pressed his dick to my entrance, rubbing up and down my folds and coating it with the juice leaking out of me.

“Oh my goodness.” I breathed, instantly felt full. He was so damn big.


Evelin was forced into sheltering at the mafia Don safe house when her family was attacked and her father sent to prison under suspicion circumstances. She has to share space with the mafia heir, next Don Anthony Vincenzo. He was known as the Devil himself and pussy hunter.

When she becomes suspicious of the attack on her family, she begins a dangerous road to find answers. But what is more dangerous for her; the mafia Don or the truth someone desperately doesn't want her to find?