406 Book(s) Related to novela turca el amor esta en el aire

I died, but my body lay unclaimed in the police station.
The police officer investigating my death was my biological father.
Just on the day I was recognized as his daughter, my fake sister fell to her death off a cliff.
They blamed everything on me.
Even when the kidnapper called,
they thought it was just a ploy of mine to get their attention.
They wished I had died in place of their daughter.
Now, I really am dead,
and their beloved daughter has returned, pregnant.

My sister came to kill me. The moment my mother stepped in to help her, I stopped struggling.
She had plastic surgery to look exactly like me and now sits in my bedroom, waiting for my husband, Liam, to come back to bed.
My parents are blessing her, wishing she and my husband a lifetime of happiness and wealth.
I can only laugh—none of them knows how terrifying the man in front of them really is.

To raise money for my younger brother’s surgery, I forged my degrees, polished my résumé, and forced my way into high society. In everyone’s mouth, I’m that woman—
the scheming bitch, the liar, the “evil bride” clinging to an old rich man.
They all think I’m obsessed with Mr. Grant, the financial shark’s mountain of assets.
Only I know the truth—what I’m really clinging to is my brother’s life.
No one expected that the first man I fell for at first sight…would be his heir, Adrian.
And yet in a blink of eyes, I became his “stepmom in name only.”
On our wedding day, everyone laughed at how shameless I was:
“She marries the dad and still dares to seduce the son?”
“Vicious little con artist—who knows what cheap tricks she pulled to marry in?”
Adrian was no exception.
He called me a liar, a manipulator, dumped all his hatred on me—said I’d do anything for money, that I was a tumor climbing up off their wounds.

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.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m the daughter of an Alpha. I cut my family off for him once. Now I’m taking everything back—divorce,

I was an Omega rescued by Jake Watkins, the Alpha of Silverclaw Pack. For three years, I served as his so-called “bedwarmer Omega”.
What he didn’t know was that I was also the lost princess of Moonlight Pack—a truth I had only just discovered and hadn’t had the chance to tell him.
“Clarissa Santiago, I heard you found your family. You should return to them. There's no reason for you to stay here anymore.”
I thought he was letting me go for my own good.
But that wasn’t the reason.
“I’m not your mate. I’m getting engaged to Anna. Staying here will only spark gossip.”
He had found a new mate—Anna Chavez, the daughter of a Beta from Goldteeth Pack. I was being discarded.
“She’s a pure Beta. I won’t touch her before the wedding. You… you're just a convenient outlet.”
So that was all I was to him. A body to use at will.
“Tell my brother—I’m going back to Moonlight Pack.”
Goodbye, Alpha Jake.

For ten silent years, I propped up a boy named Lycan—the least favored Alpha heir in his pack. Everyone said his bloodline was too thin, that he didn’t even deserve to compete for succession.

So I paved the way with money, used resources to help him awaken his bloodline, sent him to the best academy, and made sure he not only secured the position of pack’s new Alpha, but also crossed into the human world to become an Oscar-winning actor hailed by millions.

Tonight was his coronation and his Oscar night rolled into one. I sat in the shadows of the audience, watching him grip the trophy, debonair under the spotlight, genuinely happy for him. When his gaze skimmed across the crowd and landed on me, my chest warmed.
Did Lycan…notice me?

The next second, he faced the camera and spoke, frost-cold:
“I want to thank someone—she taught me what harassment really is.”

I am Nina Elliott—the only daughter of the Elliott family, sole princess of the Flame Pack, and heir to the Alpha throne.
As my eighteenth birthday approached, my Alpha father laid ten photographs before me.
“Choose a Beta husband. Someone who will guard you day and night—your future mate.”
Without hesitation, I chose Beta Grant.
But on the day of our wedding, Grant betrayed me.
“I sent your Warriors to protect Faye. Now you’ll know what it feels like to be alone.”
That very night, I was kidnapped, tortured, and killed.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn—back on the very day I had to choose.
My father still held those ten photographs in his hands.
This time, I chose Beta Paul.
“Nina, haven’t you always loved Grant? Why Paul?”
“Because no one else would fight to the death for me.”
I remembered—the last image before my death was Paul, charging toward me, throwing everything away for my sake.

Alpha Ethan once told me that he wouldn't mark any Omega other than me. I was the Moon Shade Pack's future Luna.
I believed him, until he actually marked someone else—his childhood neighbor.
I confronted him, and he laughed, saying, “It was just a childhood joke, I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”
But when that so-called "joke" turned into a wedding vow, I realized that from the very beginning, I was the only one who treasured this relationship.
The irony? That night, we had a video call that lasted until 3 AM. He said he was tired, said he missed me.
The next day, I found out from a colleague that he was getting married. The bride? Not me.

Seven years ago, I signed a mate contract as Luna.
For my mother’s dying wish and for the Pack’s stability, I personally pushed a man with nothing to his name onto the Alpha throne.
I held the Pack together for him, expanded our businesses, and handled the filthy negotiations and the deals no one wanted to see in the light.
Everyone said—
I was calm, I was formidable, I was qualified.
Just… not much like a “gentle mate.”
Until that day.
I stood in the bedroom and watched my Alpha husband lay his hand over my paralyzed stepsister’s slightly rounded belly.
They told me it was for the greater good of the Pack.
That child would be registered under my name.
He would call me Mother.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.
I just waited for the seven-year term to hit its end and activated the trust clause my mother left behind.
Accounts frozen.
Capital withdrawn.
The wolf empire I built with my own hands collapsed overnight.

I thought fifteen years of marriage was unbreakable—until my husband, Daniel, and his first love, Chloe, joined hands and killed my only sister, Mia.
And Lucas—the son I'd raised for fifteen years—stood on their side and called me a "crazy woman."
At Mia's funeral, Chloe curled up in Daniel's arms and posted on Instagram: "Survived the storm—thank God I had you."
Lucas liked it and commented: "Aunt Chloe, get well soon! You're the one who deserves to stand besides Dad."
That was when I finally woke up.
I signed the divorce papers, walked away with nothing, and disappeared to Paris.
After I vanished for good, Daniel finally realized every "truth" was a lie. He went mad looking for me and chased me all the way to Paris.
And I gave him just one sentence:
"I don't hate you. I just don't love you anymore."

I died and drained dry by a “clone werewolf” who looked exactly like me, leaving nothing but a shriveled shell.
Then my body was “handed over” like a proof of something.
And she, wearing my face, went right back to my Alpha husband, Carter. She copied the way I talked, the way I acted cute.
She even mimicked my catchphrase— “I’m so stupid” word for word.
She thought that if she erased me, she could become Carter’s Luna and replace me as his fated mate.
But my soul floated in the air, forced to watch as Carter pulled her into his arms.

For three years, I believed I was the reason we couldn't have a baby.
I endured endless humiliation from my in-laws and did everything I could to give my husband, Dante Ashbourne, a child.
Then I finally got pregnant.
But a car accident took my baby away.
While I lay unconscious from blood loss, Dante was in the hospital room next door, celebrating the birth of his mistress's baby—and promising her the wedding of her dreams.
As if that weren't cruel enough, he ordered me, fresh from a miscarriage, to take care of his mistress while she recovered from childbirth.
That was the last straw.
I finally decided to leave him, only to discover that our marriage certificate was fake.
We had never been legally married.
Three years of love. Three years of sacrifice. All for nothing.
But even as I dragged my suitcase out of the Ashbourne estate, they refused to let me go.

I’m the only daughter of the Smith family.
To get back early and see my fiancé, I stayed up three nights to finish the cooperation negotiations with Johnson ahead of time.
However, I accidentally run into my fiancé kissing his wife—the one who was supposed to be “dead.”
And through the bedroom door, I heard my fiancé’s voice:
“Ava? She’s just a bargaining chip in this deal. Her family, the underground fighting arena, the port—sooner or later, they’ll all be ours.”

I chased after my first love, Joe, for years and finally worked up the courage to confess—only to overhear him plotting to get me drunk as a plaything.
Just when I was in utter despair, his mafia brother, David, showed up and saved me from deep sorrow. He treated me gently like I was made of glass, gifted me a private estate, got down on one knee and proposed, saying he'd had a crush on me for years.
I thought I'd finally escaped hell and found my one true love—until his “lover” Ann came back with a boy who looked exactly like him and stole every bit of his attention.
David swore Ann was just my stand-in, but he kept leaving me for her again and again, even throwing himself in front of bullets for her in a shootout, saying, “For you, I can risk my life.”

To buy gold for my boyfriend whom I was supporting,
I resorted to doing borderline live streams to earn money.
The price of gold soared,
But his demand for it showed no signs of decreasing.
It was only then that I found out the "pumpkin porridge" he drank every day
Was actually made of gold.
He had a pica for gold.
I treated him so well,
But he cheated on me with my boss.
I wanted to leave, but he imprisoned me.
There was an even bigger secret hidden behind all this.

My mate and I were each other’s second chance mate. She was a rare female Alpha, and I was just a Beta—but we were in love.
Yet fate was cruel. After I was attacked by rogues and lost the ability to walk, she heartlessly reunited with her first mate.
The cruel irony? He was one of the very rogues who attacked me.
Then, I met my own first mate again. She had become a pack doctor, and she treated my legs, stirring up complicated feelings in me.
One day, against all odds, I stood up again...
And by accident, I discovered the real reason my legs could heal—and the true reason why my first mate left me.
And, I’m not a weak Beta wolf!

At eighteen, I watched Lorenzo rip at my father to save me.
Moonlight stirred my first wolf shift, and my chest ached, he was my fated mate.
As Alpha King, his passwords were my birthday, till I found his album, stuffed with photos of another woman, not a single one of me.
I slid divorce papers. He snapped. “Between us, there’s no such thing as divorce. Only death.”

To save for a future with my “broke” boyfriend, I spent my summer delivering packages. But one night in a wealthy neighborhood, I overheard him laughing with friends: “Me and Sophie? Just a fling. She’s not good enough for someone like me.” Stunned and heartbroken, I tried to leave—but his glamorous fiancée trapped me, mocked me, and humiliated me in front of everyone. When I finally told him it was over… that was the first time he panicked.

My name is Sophie Carter, just your average college junior.

I’ve been dating a guy who I thought was just as ordinary as me. His name is Ryan Lawson. He’s a year older, already out of school and working.

I believed in our future so much that I picked up a summer job delivering packages, just to help us save for a place of our own someday.

But everything shattered the day I drove into the gated mansions on the west side of town. That’s where I saw him—my “broke” boyfriend, Ryan.

For five years, I stood by my husband, Kieran Blackwood, as he built his company from nothing and took it public.
For him, I gave up the chance to study abroad, turned down a job offer from a Fortune 500 company, and helped him secure investors and close deals—even when it meant drinking so much at business dinners that I ended up with a stomach hemorrhage.
I thought that if I loved him enough, someday he'd finally love me back.
Then, on the night we celebrated his company's IPO, he pulled me into his arms, drunk, and whispered another woman's name.
"Raven, I've kept every promise I made to you. Will you finally come back to me?"
That was when I realized the truth.
It wasn't that Kieran hated movies or traveling. It wasn't that he didn't know how to be romantic.
He'd simply saved all his tenderness for his first love.
And me? I'd been nothing more than a pawn in his plan to make her jealous.

I lost my heart to Vincent the moment I stepped into the Johnson family.
A Don thirty years older than me.
I knew this love was forbidden. Twisted. Ridiculous.
But I still chose to risk everything for it.
I deliberately got close to his son, Leon—the spoiled, reckless golden boy he treasured most. I tempted him, led him on, and step by step, just as I had planned, I married my way into the Johnson family as Leon’s wife.
On my wedding night, I climbed into Vincent’s bed.
In this scheme disguised as love, Vincent fell just as hard as I did.
And inside me, his child quietly began to grow.
A scorching, warped affair took root in the Johnson estate and spread like wildfire.

I was doted to the bone by the mafia heir, Ethan — he took bullets for me, endured 99 lashes, and promised to take me to see the Southern Sea that never freezes!
But he let Ashley get pregnant with his child.
He accused me of causing Elara’s pollen allergy, and even gave the only keepsake left by my mother — a bracelet — to Ashley as an apology.
He said, "It’s just a bracelet."

During an argument, he shoved me down, causing my head to bleed, yet he rushed to the hospital with Ashley, not even bothering to look back at me.
I lay in the hospital getting stitches, and his suit still carried Ashley’s perfume. He yelled at me, "You followed me to the hospital to cause trouble!" My heart shattered, yet he still lied to me, "I only love you. After this fake wedding, I’ll take you away!"

I’m just a blind woman whose sight was stolen by the mist.

And yet, for his ambition to become the Alpha King, I begged my brother Mason to venture deep into the forest and bring back the Moon Goddess’s Mark.

On Christmas, I carried that Mark in one hand and my pregnancy report in the other, my heart practically bursting with joy.

Then I caught my husband tangled up with Rory—the Omega who stayed by my side every day.

What shattered me most was this: my son’s death was never a surgical accident.

It was Andrew who wanted to give the heart of my son, Ethan, to Rory, who was sick with heart disease. He lied and told me those papers were for Ethan’s treatment, and tricked me into signing my name.

He mocked me, saying a blind woman couldn’t survive without him. But he didn’t understand what a mother’s resolve looks like.

My father was critically ill, wheeled into the operating room. As his attending physician and my husband, Aaron was nowhere to be found.
Dressed in my pajamas, I waited alone outside until the early hours, my hands trembling as I repeatedly dialed Aaron's number. Finally, the call connected, but a sweet, soft female voice answered on the other end: “I’m here with Aaron, and we’re admiring the Eiffel Tower!”
“Is that woman calling again? Jenny, can you tell her to stop? The lights of the Eiffel Tower are about to go out; can’t she behave herself?” Hearing Aaron's voice, my heart sank.
But before I could respond, the call was abruptly disconnected.

I was with Dorian Hayes for ten years. Married for three. And yet, he cheated on me countless times.

This time, the woman he’d been hiding—six months pregnant—showed up at my door, demanding I divorce him.

I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t throw a scene. I just calmly called him.

“Congratulations. You’re going to be a father.”

His voice came back shaky, panicked. “Come home. We need to talk about the divorce.”

I smiled bitterly. “Zadie Rowan, if you’re angry, take it out on me. But don’t hurt Sienna—she’s pregnant.”

I chuckled softly. “Divorce.”

“Fine. Divorce!”

I hung up, then sent a message to someone else.

I am the white wolf princess of the Coyote Pack.
By the Moon Goddess’s decree, Barry was meant to be my fated mate. But during the peace negotiations, he gave me away—to Bayport’s crippled warrior, Colin—as a “hostage bride.”
Barry smiled carelessly, his voice cruelly tender.
“Emily, let me complete the bond with Evelyn first. This is just a deal. You are still my true Luna.”
My nails bit into my palms, pain hollowing out my chest. Evelyn was nothing but a low-blood she-wolf he had rescued from the border. Yet for her, he used a truce marriage alliance to force me into surrender.
Later, when I sought him out, I found him tending Evelyn’s wounds, wrapping her with gentle hands.
He looked up, his tone light as if it cost him nothing.
“If you let Evelyn be my mate alongside you, and divide half of your inheritance for her, I will withdraw the marriage alliance order.”

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.

My mom died saving me during a kidnapping. At least, that’s what everyone believed. My dad—once the man who spoiled me like his little princess—turned his grief into hatred. He adopted a girl who looked just like Mom and gave her all the love that used to be mine. For five years, I lived in that shadow, broken and unwanted. Until the day I was beaten and left for dead… and my mom came back. Alive.
• He used to call me his treasure. Now he calls me a curse. But the night my mom returned, everything shattered—his lies, his obsession, and the truth I was never meant to know.

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?

My boyfriend pulled off a drone-sky proposal that lit up the entire city.
Crowds cheered, “Congratulations to Mr. Gunson and Mrs. Gunson—at last, true lovers become family.”
But the woman curled in his arms was his secretary.
The “me” in their mouths had long since turned to white bones beneath a mound of earth.

“The wedding will go on as planned.”
Darren sat in the dimly lit living room, his voice flat as if he were commenting on the weather. But the fabric of my dress was already wrinkled in my fists, my nails cutting crescents into my skin—because only hours ago, I had seen it with my own eyes.
The man with crippling OCD, who never let anyone touch his things, had casually lifted Paisley’s glass and taken a sip.
My wolf, Emily, snarled restlessly in my mind: “He’s betrayed us! Break the bond—call it off!”
But I clung to the last threads of hope, my gaze locked on the wedding ring at his finger—engraved with both our names. He once told me the ring was crafted with a strong magnet, which whenever we were near, they’d pull together. Proof, he said, of us being true Fate Mates.
Until the night of the Moon Ceremony.
I walked toward him in my white gown, only to catch the naked loathing in his eyes.
“The mate I longed for isn’t you. I regret this.”

A fire before a singing competition
plunged my life into darkness.
My boyfriend's love helped me reignite my hope for life.
But now, everything I hear
makes me feel cold all over.
My boyfriend was the one who started the fire.
To help his moonlight gain fame and fortune,
he didn't hesitate to destroy me.
Even the reason I haven't had children all these years
is because he's been drugging me to show loyalty to his moonlight.
He even thought that marrying me could compensate for everything.
I'm leaving his world,
making him pay a heavy price.

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

Sean Turner kissed his childhood sweetheart, Mia Moore, right in front of me.
He said he married me for benefits, not love.
He even tried to force me to give Mia my heart.
I agreed.
But after the transplant surgery, he regretted it—while I smiled.

The year after I married my alpha mate, he wept bitterly and traveled afar to attend his childhood beloved’s funeral.
Everyone waited to see me cast aside. Yet when he returned, he grew more affectionate toward me than ever before.
Just as everyone thought this wandering soul had turned over a new leaf, my eyes fixed on the amulet around his neck, and I made up my mind to divorce.

I was once the woman Michael was dead set on marrying, only to be cast aside right after our engagement, all because of Lily, that so-called terminally ill, pitiful little “sister” of his.
With a shattered heart, I boarded the honeymoon flight that was supposed to belong to both of us. But The plane crashed.
I survived, by sheer luck, saved by a stranger named Liam and ended up on a remote island.
One year later, I returned to the public eye as a scriptwriter, telling my own story. At the press conference, I saw Michael again.
Gray streaks threaded through his hair. His eyes brimmed with regret, disbelief, and a desperate kind of joy. He grabbed me, begged for forgiveness, told me Lily’s lies had been exposed, told me he had spent the past year drowning in remorse.
But I only looked at him calmly and said: “Emily have been dead since the plane crashed. What you thought was a wife-chasing crematorium was nothing more than your own one-man show.”

A mate certificate symbolizes legitimacy and eternity.
Only now did I realize—my mate certificate was fake.

“Alpha, it’s been five years. Aren’t you going to leave your mark on Rose?”
“Not yet. Emily is alone in White Moon Pack, and I must protect her. Only when she stands firm can I feel at ease.”

The real mate certificate bore the names Del and Emily.
They even secretly had a daughter, hidden away in an orphanage.

“Del, you’re finally here! Please save Joey! I don’t want her adopted by someone else, I don’t want her calling anyone else mommy and daddy!”

And yet, I was also pregnant.

“Rose, this child comes at the wrong time.”
“Del, what about Joey? She’s the child who came at exactly the right time, isn’t she?”

If it’s the wrong time for this child, then that means it’s time for me to leave.

Everyone said I’d traded five years of my youth and my unwavering devotion for an engagement that every woman envied.
My fiancé, Felix Smith, seemed to believe it, too. He gave me pearls, promised me a bright future, and wrapped me up in a web of tenderness, layer after layer.
Until that afternoon, when he held me close, yet used a language he thought I didn’t understand to weave the perfect "wedding" con over the phone.
That was the moment I finally realized: over these five years, who had he really been looking at through me? And every pearl he ever gave me, whose tastes was he remembering?
When the elevator failed and darkness crashed down, the person he protected on instinct wasn’t me.
When the wind howled across the empty outskirts, the person he chose to abandon was me.
I’d been learning how to love him, how to become a proper bride. In the end, what I learned was how to exit quietly, out of his world with Serena.
Only when I slipped off that pearl ring did I understand—
Some love stories, from the very beginning, are nothing but long letters written to someone else.

My fiancé, Liam Miller, slapped me more than a dozen times in front of everyone over his childhood sweetheart.
Then he shoved me down a spiral staircase.
Both my legs were shattered. My skull cracked open. I spent an entire month in the ICU.
He never came to see me.
Not once.
He was too busy staying by Sophia’s side, planning her birthday party, and getting down on one knee in front of everyone to propose to her.
As for me, I couldn’t even get through the doors of his headquarters anymore. My access had been revoked. My position had been taken. Every trace of my place in his world had been erased.
Nine years.
From nineteen to twenty-eight, I gave him the best years of my life.
In the end, I had given them to the wrong man.
On the day I was discharged, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cling to him and beg for answers.
I simply called my mother.
“Mom,” I said calmly, “that overseas mafia empire you wanted me to inherit? I’m ready to take it.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then my mother said, “I’ve waited ten years for this day.”
The night before my flight, Liam’s messages flooded my phone.
“Emma, I was wrong. Don’t go.”
What do you think?
Would I ever look back?

On my wedding day, I ran, still in my wedding dress not because I wanted to, but because my mother had a car accident.
By the time I got to the hospital, Lucia Vitale, Finn’s mother, threw a five-million-dollar check at me and told me to leave her son.
Before I could even respond, the door was kicked open.
Finn stood in the doorway.
He raised his phone and played a forged recording.
“My mom needs the money… I know I’m not good enough for him… I’ll leave him…”
He didn’t listen to my explanation.
He dragged me out of the hospital room, shoved me into a car, and took me to the Vitale estate on Long Island.
The room he locked me in had bars on the windows.
There were listening devices hidden in the walls.
“You’re my wife,” he said coldly.
“What’s the difference between a wife and a prisoner?”
For six months, I endured his imprisonment and endured him bringing women to the room next to mine.
The women he brought home.
Every night, their moans echoed through the walls.
Meanwhile, Finn was on a private island, celebrating his mistress Isabella Moretti’s birthday.
A forty-million-dollar island.
A heart lit up in the sky by drones.
Isabella said,“he never loved you. You were just a mistake.”
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on.
But I knew one thing: escape, or face death.

At the Jones family’s political marriage gala, the New York mafia’s most public “celebration”, I, Isabella Rossi, who was a bargaining chip, had been Donovan Jones’s wife for five years.
He was the world’s top perfumer, the kind of man who could coax a scent from his fingertips that made people go mad-and yet, to him, I was a flower with no fragrance at all.
Five years of this marriage, and he had never touched me. The villa’s master bedroom was always his alone, while I was nothing but the “Mrs. Jones” in name-a decorative prop trapped in a luxury cage, so insignificant that even the servants dared to look down on me in secret.
When both sets of parents pressured us for a baby, he wrapped an arm around a famous model and sneered,
“A woman raised off a template like you is only good for taking care of a kid, not for sleeping with.”
He left me behind in the bridal suite-with his younger brother.
Then he took his new fling out street-racing.
That same night, a video of him and the model hooking up in a car shot straight to the top of the entertainment headlines.
And I became New York media’s favorite punchline: the “DISCARDED TROPHY WIFE.”
Just when everyone thought I’d spend the night alone, guarding an empty bed,
I crooked a finger at that eight-pack, absurdly good-looking brother-in-law of mine.
Donovan, you’re right-I am pretty suited to “taking care of a kid.”
Just not a baby. A 6'2", baby-faced college boy.

I’d spent six years working under an alias for the High Council.
The day I came home, I happened to see my daughter being slapped by a woman and forced to kneel down.
I slapped the woman back and called my husband, Derek.
The call connected. In the background, I heard his newlywed wife giggling.
In a voice so cold I barely recognized it, he said, “No one can save you.”
Then he hung up.

That woman sneered, “Here, even the air you breathe belongs to Alpha Derek!”
She had no idea Derek only went from an ordinary Gamma to a Pack king because I’d been laying the road for him from behind the curtain.
Now he had his precious wife and son in his arms, and he still let them treat my daughter like a dog.

I smiled.
If he’d forgotten who lifted him onto the throne.
Then I wouldn’t mind dragging him down with my own hands.

“I’m the one deciding your fate, Derek.”
I took my daughter’s hand and looked straight at the man in front of me.
“Game over. Your Alpha era ends here.”

In her past life, she gave everything to her brothers, but all they saw was the fake heiress. They even went as far as turning her life into a living hell for the sake of that imposter, leaving her to die in agony.

Reborn and unyielding, she cut all ties with her family and set her sights on revenge.

Want her to return to the family?

Not a chance! She’s already had a whirlwind marriage and transferred her name to a disabled tycoon’s registry!

Want her to call them "brother"?

As if!

Let them cry, let them regret, let them beg for forgiveness—she’d just laugh in their faces!

Let them suffer, let them kneel, let their world fall apart—she’d be front row, popcorn in hand.

When Pack Alpha returned to take charge of Zenith Global Corporation, he never expected his wallet to be stolen so effortlessly in broad daylight. Adina barely had time to be pleased before Alaric caught her red-handed.
The moment they touched, a ripple went through both their hearts; they instantly knew the other was their mate. Gradually deepening, their connection enticed them both. Alaric carefully crafted a gilded cage for Adina, patiently awaiting the canary's capture. Adina, with her enchanting allure, melted into his embrace, her soft murmurs bewitching him.

I used to think I was the one he’d fight to the death to protect.
Three years ago, I changed my name, erased my past, and slipped away from a brutal family power struggle. I lived like a shadow, working at a tiny company by the docks.
Then came the accident—the gunshots, the chaos. I saved Noah, the coldest heir of the Miller Family. And he went insane over me. He put me on a pedestal: bought an entire sugar factory just to make “sweetness for me alone,” chartered a jet for a meteor shower, even walked into a kidnapping trap by himself to trade his life for mine. Everyone said he was ruthless—yet he was impossibly gentle with me.
Then I learned the truth.
Those three days every month when he “disappeared to be punished” was never for me. He was back at the old estate, playing husband to his wife… and father to their twins.
The day I caught it, I thought I’d break. I thought I’d scream, demand answers, rip everything apart.

I'd sacrificed everything—my savings, my future—to rescue a memoryless man from the twisted wreckage of his car. Day by day, we developed feelings for each other. He slipped a simple silver ring onto my finger, calling me his sole comfort, the only light in his life.
However, the light was violently extinguished the day his true wife burst into the hospital. Her bodyguards slamming me against the wall was just the beginning. As the blows rained down, I learned his real identity: Ethan Vance, the heir of the richest family in the L City.
The most damning evidence was their marriage certificate, issued two years before we had met. The ultimate betrayal came as his wife deliberately snapped my fingers and stripped me of my last shred of dignity. He saw it all with icy detachment, then turned and pulled her close. "Lana doesn’t need to be reasonable. I’m the one backing her ".

I was once “The BOSS’ wife” of the Moscato family of the Paris Mafia, the one everyone addressed with fear as Donna. Until that night, when iron lamps roared in the warehouse and scalding oil rolled—my own younger brother was hung over a vat of boiling oil, and my husband, the cold-faced Don Lydon, pushed me into hell with one sentence: “Have you learned your lesson?”
More absurd still, the two sons I had raised with my own hands stood by, helping his first love, Agnes, testify against me. In that instant I understood: my marriage, my family affection, my kindness—they had stomped all of it into the oil and fried it to shreds.
I was suppressed when I called the police, refused when I begged for a doctor, mocked when I sought a divorce—yet I still slapped the divorce certificate down on his coffee table: I’m leaving. I don’t want any of you.

When I walked out of Moon Shade’s prison, I still didn’t even know what crime I was supposed to have committed.
A black SUV idled outside the iron gate. Charles stepped out. He had once been my fiancé; now he looked like he was here to pick up trouble. “Get in.”
The second I sat on the seat; his phone lit up. On the screen, a single name popped up—Sophia.
The girl who had taken everything that used to be mine.
I stayed silent, watching the snow outside the window. Three years ago, every bit of tenderness in this world embraced me; two years later, when I finally woke up, they were suddenly all orbiting around Sophia, calling her “so pitiful,” calling me “too extreme,” saying prison would help me calm down.
I honestly believed I was still the one they cared about most—until the night I typed my own birthday into the keypad and the front door stayed locked. When I entered Sophia’s birthday instead, the door clicked open instantly.

My name is Daisy Webster. Eight years ago, I witnessed my sister being pushed down the stairs, and the murderer was the man I once loved Eric Lawsky.

“Daisy Webster, either you sign this agreement and care for Peter Lawsky without any compensation for eight years, or he will be sent to an orphanage.”

I trembled as I signed my name on the agreement, not knowing that this was a cruel trap.

I became the free nanny for the Lawsky family, and the “nephew” I cared for with all my heart was not even my sister’s child.

Today, the eight-year agreement expires.

As I left the Lawsky family mansion with my luggage and got into the discreet Rolls-Royce, no one knew that the “Nyx,” the name that made countless financial tycoons tremble, was me.

The revenge has just begun.

Alpha Kayle and I have spent the last five years locked in a brutal dance of hatred, resentment, and twisted duty.

He didn’t choose me as his Luna. He was forced—bound to me by the will of his parents and the Elders, not by love, not even by desire. Just obligation.

And Kayle?

He was the most ruthless Alpha alive. All sharp edges, broad shoulders, and cold, wild blood. The kind of man who doesn’t take orders—except, apparently, when it came to me.

So he punished me. Every. Single. Night.

He brought different women into our home, into our bed, like I wasn’t even there. And he made sure I heard every moan, every scream, every fake cry of his name echo through the walls.

The entire pack knew. They watched, whispered, laughed. I became the sad, silent Luna. The biggest joke in the werewolf world.

And still, I stayed. Because leaving would’ve meant surrender. And I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

"Tomorrow, dress formal. We're going back for the family sit-down."
"Are you going to make our relationship public?"
"Public what? You—as my Consigliere, or... as my mistress."
At the pre-engagement dinner, he picked simple Italian dishes, Black Forest cake, and pink-and-white roses for Amelie. Side by side, they smiled as they reminisced about their "fated encounters," his ears even turning red.
"We kept ‘running into’ each other in high school," she said.
I lowered my eyes with a small, bitter smile—those had all been his carefully designed coincidences.
When the accident happened, he pulled her into his arms first. "Don't be scared. Look at me." I shivered among shattered glass and the smell of blood. He never once looked at me.
Later, with the wedding was half prepared, I returned my signet ring, keys, and comm devices according to family rules, took my parents and emigrated. The sea wind shredded those passed New York nights.