3559 Book(s) Related to yes and i love you book

Vivian "Viv" Rossi has been in love with her best friend, Josh Sterling, since they were both ten years old. Theirs is a classic "Opposites Attract": she is a fiery, struggling abstract artist who smells like turpentine and lives in a chaotic loft; he is the tailored, meticulous CEO of Sterling Enterprises, living in a sterile, modern skyscraper.
​Josh is destined for the "Perfect Marriage" to a legacy heiress a cold, corporate merger disguised as romance. Viv has always accepted her role as his safe space, the keeper of his secrets, and his only true escape.
​But three months before Josh’s engagement is set to become an irrevocable wedding, the decades of tension between them ignite. In a moment of mutual, frantic vulnerability, the line between "best friends" and "lovers" is utterly destroyed.
​Terrified of losing their history but incapable of stopping the attraction, they make a devastating bargain: A Friends with Benefits arrangement, valid only for ninety days. No strings. No jealousy. No love. Just a final, private goodbye to the "what-ifs" before he steps into his predetermined future.
​As the wedding countdown ticks down, the unattainable nature of their relationship becomes a torture. Viv must hide her devastating, unrequited love while watching Josh plan a wedding he doesn't want. Josh, locked in his family’s expectations, realizes the only person who has ever truly seen him is the one he is preparing to abandon.
​The Silver Lining Vow is a high-emotion, contemporary Realistic Fiction romance that explores the agonizing space between duty and desire. When ninety days expire, they must face the ultimate choice: a life of empty prestige, or the chaos of risking everything for a love that was never meant to be.

Everyone in Night City fears Sebastian Locke.

The ruthless billionaire. The monstrous Alpha. A predator who could tear a man apart with his bare hands.

But when he meets me, he runs.

My name is Ophelia Hayes. To my family, I'm a helpless girl they can humiliate, manipulate, and sell to the highest bidder.

How adorable.

They don't know I was raised to kill. They don't know my tears are fake, my innocence is a weapon, and I've already buried men far more dangerous than them.

Then someone starts watching me.

Black roses appear outside my window. My belongings are touched. Every man who threatens me meets a terrifying fate.

My secret admirer is a monster.

And the strangest part? He seems more afraid of me than I am of him.

Sebastian thinks he's stalking his prey.

Poor thing.

He has no idea I'm already choosing a collar for him.

On the eve of our wedding, my Alpha fiancé, Ethan, broke off our engagement for the daughter of the man who once saved his father's life.

My brother took me to confront him, and Ethan threw my brother into the dungeon.

Then he used my brother's life as leverage to force me to hand over the five hundred silver vaults my grandfather had left me.

I swallowed my pride and begged him. He tipped up my chin and gently wiped away my tears.

"Celeste, I'm not really breaking it off. I just want you to agree to let Chloe move into the main house after the wedding, and to get along with her."

"Otherwise, your brother will never get out. Your only other choice is to take those vaults and beg that cursed beast of the Thorn Pack to marry you. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make the right choice."

I didn't say anything.

He thought I'd finally given in, and he smiled, satisfied.

"Good girl. I'll come for you on the wedding day."

What he didn't know was that on the morning of the wedding, I would already be in the bridal car the Thorn Pack sent for me, and I would pass him on the stone bridge between our two territories.

Later, Ethan knelt at the gates of the Thorn Pack and wept as he begged me to forgive him.

Last time, the world ended.

My fallen comrade left me the fortress he spent his life building. I hesitated, let his niece’s boyfriend inside, and that mercy killed everyone. They took the warehouse, cut the power, and put a knife in my gut. I crawled into the underground control room and triggered the self-destruct protocol he’d hidden for the worst day. The entire fortress went up in flames.

Then I opened my eyes—one month before disaster.

The gate was still closed. They were still outside. Everything could still be fixed.

This time, I set one rule at the door: anyone who opens it without approval is a traitor.

She cried like before, begged me to let her boyfriend in, called him the man she loved—and when I refused, she reached for the controls anyway.

So I grabbed her wrist and threw her out with them.

When I was injured and hospitalized, my husband, Adrian Hale, was still giving me the silent treatment over his ex-girlfriend.
 
During our worst fight, he told me, "If Vanessa and I wanted to be together, you never would have become Mrs. Hale."
 
After that, I became the kind of wife he'd always claimed to want. I stopped asking questions. I stopped checking when he would be home. I stopped arguing when Vanessa called.
 
Yet, that was when Adrian began reporting every detail of his day, avoiding Vanessa, and trying to come home early. On my birthday, he canceled a trip to Europe and flew back overnight to surprise me.
 
I should have been moved.
 
Instead, I hid in the kitchen and whispered to my best friend, "We're getting divorced. Why is he going to all this trouble?"
 
She laughed. "Adrian Hale is rich, gorgeous, and finally acting like a husband. Are you sure you won't regret leaving him?"
 
I thought about it.
 
"No," I said. "I think I'll finally be able to breathe."
 
Something dropped to the floor behind me.
 
I turned. Adrian was standing in the doorway, looking completely ashen.

On a storm-stranded island villa, Clara Hayes wakes after a vicious bachelorette party to find four women dead—among them her former best friend, bride-to-be Vivian Sterling. Branded the obvious killer, the discarded ex must fight a locked-room mystery, class prejudice, and a carefully staged narrative as buried trauma, betrayal, and revenge surface through rain-soaked glass, shattered flutes, burned letters, and one untouched bottle of soda.

All because I'd upset Lucia, my own brother and my husband had me dumped in the worst part of Naples to be taught a lesson.
Before leaving, Dante had paid the men watching me extra money and told them to make sure I learned my place.
For the next fourteen months, I became their favorite punching bag, a helpless prisoner they could torment whenever they pleased.
Any time I resisted, they made sure I regretted it.
It took three months for me to go from fighting desperately for my freedom to silently taking off my clothes whenever they demanded it.
Then, one afternoon, Toto, the man running the place, stormed into my crumbling apartment.
I instinctively started pulling off the only jacket I had left, knowing what his arrival usually meant.
Instead, he barked, "Put that back on! Your husband's here to take you home."
I stared at him, barely understanding the words.
Home? Did I even have one anymore?

To give my twelve-year-old daughter a peaceful and ordinary childhood, I sealed away the "Eagle" badge that represented the highest military authority in the Federation, willingly becoming a repairman with an oily phone in a remote town.
I suppressed my murderous intent, swallowed my humiliation, and even remained silent about the injustice of the referee.
But my concessions to the powerful and wealthy resulted in the richest man leading a group of professional thugs to smash my home to ruins.
to fight in front of my daughter , until his reckless son smashed my "Eagle Badge," hidden deep inside.
They had no idea that the instant the badge broke—
the SSS-level emergency beacon hidden at its core—had been triggered !

For the sake of my marriage, I turned down a promotion and became the perfect wife and mother.
When my six-year-old son was rushed to the ER with an asthma attack in the dead of night, I sat vigil until dawn.
What I didn't expect was to hear my husband, just outside the emergency room doors, bragging to a friend about his mistress — and sneering that I was "bland and boring."
What hurt worse: my own son had been bought off by the other woman, and was now faking illness with practiced ease to cover for his father's affair.
My husband's scheming, my son's betrayal — seven years of devotion, ground into the dirt.
In that moment, something inside me died for good.
If this family is a filthy, lie-riddled con, then I'm taking back every ounce of love and sacrifice I ever poured into it. And I'm not looking back.

I died on the second Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day.
My biological mother, the top neurologist in the United States, was standing in front of my corpse.
She looked at the bedsores all over my body, at the ribs that had been stomped broken, and explained coldly to hundreds of cameras:
“Trash from the bottom of society, covered in needle marks like this, doesn’t deserve to dirty my dissection table.”
She didn’t know that the “social garbage” she called a pill-seeking self-harmer was the son she had abandoned ten years ago.
When the cold scalpel cut open my chest, an old photograph stained with black blood slipped out.
The moment she saw it, the woman who had stood above everyone else—
went completely insane…

I once believed his oath wholeheartedly. I sacrificed all my power to lift him onto the Alpha King’s throne. What a cruel twist: the man who swore to die for me became my executioner.
He cast me aside for another female, and my past life ended in endless sorrow and destruction.
Now I am reborn, and I am no longer the naive girl who loved blindly.
I shatter the token of our blood oath in public, ending our bond forever.
To the shock of all onlookers, I do not seek another chance with him. I turn and pledge myself to the new Alpha King.

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

Three years ago, my fiancé Asher stole my project achievements for his white moonlight Chloe and abandoned me cruelly.
Three years later, he returned arrogantly, ordering me to tidy up my villa, accept his mistress, and humble myself to apologize. He even humiliated me with a mistress contract.
A vicious supporting female system suddenly bound to me, forcing me to fawn on Asher, yield to Chloe, and end up miserable and jealous according to the fixed script.
But I refused to submit to fate.
I only want a peaceful and free life with my husband and my daughter.
I have never been a side character in anyone’s story. I am my own sole protagonist.

I got dragged online by one of my lead devs.

He claimed my "Incubation Project" was a gilded cage—a trap to exploit the team and steal their personal IPs.

The truth?

I funded it out of my own pocket.

Selected candidates would get a $50,000 no-strings-attached seed fund, plus full Ivy League tuition reimbursement. It was 100% voluntary, with zero penalties for opting out.

Since the internet decided I was a toxic capitalist monopolizing their creativity, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I fired off a company-wide memo:

[To protect your creative freedom from capitalist exploitation, the $50,000 Incubation Fund is permanently abolished, effective immediately.]

[As an alternative, the monthly education allowance for all employees is now a $15 reimbursement for basic coding courses.]

The moment the memo dropped, the employees who were counting on that $50k to pay off student loans or change their lives completely lost it.

Now, they're swarming right outside my glass office door, eyes red, begging me to reinstate the program.

For two years my mother told the whole town that my sister Zoe was in a hospital in Switzerland.
She shut the heat off in my room with a wrench, because Zoe's ward is kept at sixty-five degrees. My dinner was always cold, because Zoe can't keep solid food down. I never got a birthday cake, because Zoe hasn't had one since she was seventeen.
The day I won the state 1600, she pulled the medal off my neck in the parking lot and didn't say one word the whole drive home. Then she walked me down to the basement, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under her heel until the ribbon came apart. She took a picture of it lying there. I'll send this to your sister. So she knows her little sister is keeping her company.
She came back down that night with a pair of garden shears. I fought her. She got a fistful of my hair, put my head over her knee, and cut it all off, because chemo took Zoe's.
Then I found something down there my mother never meant me to see.
My sister isn't where she said. And she isn't sick.

On Christmas Eve, a mysterious virus swept the globe, and my own father mutated into a bloodthirsty monster right before my eyes.

Retreating to a Texas ranch, I thought it would be a desperate fight for survival—until a monster tore my arm open during a brutal melee. There was no high fever, no mutation. Instead, the moment those frenzied infected caught the scent of my blood, they trembled and backed away, as if encountering their natural predator.

Before I could even catch my breath, an armored convoy bearing a cryptic insignia surrounded the ranch, using sonic weapons to herd the infected horde.

From a distance, a red laser locked precisely between my eyes. The memories forcibly erased during my military service two years ago came crashing back: this apocalypse was never a natural disaster, and I was the "perfect specimen" they were absolutely determined to claim.

Want to turn me into a lab rat? Then let's see how many of you this modified body can drag down to hell with me!

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.

Six years of marriage, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, she would see me someday.
Yet she never gave me a hug, never called our son "sweetheart" once, and couldn't even stand him calling her "Mom."
She said I was calculating, that I was shameless.
I laughed. So, in her eyes, my love was a scam from the very beginning.
So, I signed the divorce papers and left town with our son.
I thought it was all over.
But then she said,
"I'm not leaving you."

Wearing a plain black velvet dress and zero jewelry, I sat quietly in the back row of the Royal Charity, completely invisible among London’s glittering elite.
My only goal tonight? Winning an 1890 Victorian pink diamond for my engagement ring. My family in the Scottish Highlands had just arranged my marriage to Phil Graham, London’s hottest real estate heir.
"Starting at £8,000," the auctioneer announced. I raised my paddle.
Instantly, a flashy woman behind me sneered and raised hers. "Are they letting just anyone into charity galas now?" she loudly mocked to her friends. "Dressed like a department store clerk, and she thinks she can bid on antique jewelry?"
I ignored her, calmly raising my paddle again: "£15,000."
Furious, the woman stood up, her voice echoing across the silent ballroom. "£20,000! I suggest you back off, poor girl. My brother is Phil Graham, CEO of Graham Real Estate. This necklace is mine."
I slowly looked up at her. "Graham Real Estate? What a coincidence. ”
I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé right in front of her.
“Phil?” I said lightly. “It seems your little pet sister is trying to hijack my engagement diamond. How exactly do you want to explain this to me? Should we cancel the wedding?”

This was the most miserable Christmas I had ever experienced.
On Christmas Eve night, my husband brought his mistress home and demanded that I, his pregnant wife, leave with nothing.
On this day, I lost my husband and also lost the child in my womb...

Lysander’s ex-girlfriend, Evangeline, suggested a hiking trip. Out of obligation to me as his fiancée, he brought me along.
We got lost in the woods and trespassed onto the territory of his half-brother, Orion.
When Orion pointed a gun at us and forced him to choose—
In my past life, he chose me.
As a result, Evangeline was sold to a rival, Matthias, and was tortured to death. I spent the rest of my life bearing the full weight of Lysander’s hatred.
In the third year of our marriage, I lay in a hospital bed after a miscarriage. He stood coldly beside me and said, "Now you know how it feels to lose the love of your life."
Reborn into this life, as Orion’s gun points at me and Evangeline once again, I make the choice for him.
I’m leaving the chance to survive to his true love.

I survived three miserable years inside a romance novel—only to watch the hero and heroine claim their perfect ending.
The villain was stripped of his title, beaten nearly to death, and sold for ten taels.
So I bought him.
Adrian Vale assumed I wanted his body. I wanted the fortune he had wasted on the heroine.
My plan was simple: reclaim his gifts, sell them, and retire rich.
I never expected him to return months later, penniless and fully recovered.
“You bought me,” he said. “My money belongs to you. So do I.”
The original love story was already over.
Unfortunately, mine was just beginning.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

They pulled my husband Beckett’s car out of the Avery River at four in the morning.
I was sitting in the reception area of the Ardenvale police station, having waited all night. Everyone thought I was just the pathetic wife—the one who had been humiliated at her mother-in-law’s birthday banquet, went home early, and panicked when her husband never returned.
No one knew that from the moment I dialed 911, this was exactly the news I had been waiting for.
He was dead. And I was the one who made it happen.

On the night my grandmother died, my husband Kael came home trailing blood.
His leather motorcycle jacket was soaked dark red, yet he flashed a savage grin: "I wiped the floor with those bastards tonight!"
For three years, he had treated our home as nothing more than a pit stop between reckless street races.
I’d finally had enough. "After the funeral, we're getting a divorce."
Before the words fully left my mouth, my phone rang. It was his riding partner, Lunn, his voice choking with sobs: "Sera... Kael drove off the cliff tonight. They only recovered bloody pieces of his helmet!"
But the "dead man" was standing right in front of me...

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

My husband often made me suffer for the sake of my younger sister, even divorcing me because of her.
My parents gave all their love to my sister and neglected me.
My husband and parents even had my sister perform surgery on me.
But they didn't know that my sister had no idea how to perform surgery.
It didn't matter though, because I no longer cared.
On Christmas Day, when they were celebrating, they finally remembered me.
But I was already dead.

For five years, I had turned Preston Tanner from a broke kid who could barely afford tuition into one of Silicon Valley's hottest young founders.
I thought we would do exactly what we had promised back in that garage—take our AI healthcare startup public, ring the opening bell together, and get married.
Until today.
At the product launch that would determine whether we landed our Series A, Preston stood before the press and credited the core algorithm patent I had spent seventy-two sleepless hours developing to a girl who couldn't even write Python.
"Sloane, you're already my fiancée," he said. "Willow needs this patent to strengthen her green-card application."
Staring at his utterly self-righteous face, I felt sick.
I didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, he had rotted from the inside out.
And if he was rotten, it was time to throw him away.

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

The night before the gala where my rich family would finally claim me as their real daughter, I sent an email to my future self.
Have Mom and Dad really accepted me?
Does Spencer still hate me?
Julian and I are married by now, right?
A second later, my inbox exploded.
Dozens of photos, one after another, loading faster than I could scroll. Every single one was Julian—my Julian—wrapped around Camille. Kissing her. Cradling her face like she was something precious.
The blood drained out of me.
Then the voice messages started. And the voice was mine—older, hoarse, recorded somewhere I didn't recognize, and raw with panic.
"They're going to kill you—"
"Mom and Dad want to make it up to Camille, so tomorrow at the gala they're going to stage an accident. A fire. They burn your legs on purpose—you'll be crippled, Cora. In a wheelchair for the rest of your life—"
"Spencer leaks the videos. He says the only way Camille gets to be an Ashcroft again is if you're destroyed—"
"And Julian—he's so terrified you'll expose the truth and hurt her that he's the one who has you committed. He signs the papers himself."
The last message was barely a voice at all. Just breath, thin and failing.
"Cora. Don't go back."

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

My best friend Tiffany was obsessed with those novels where a mafia don spoils his woman rotten.

She was convinced she was the type of girl who could make a ruthless boss go soft, so she went after Vincent, the heir of a crime family, and got him.

His bodyguards, his dirty money, even the way he told her not to ask questions and just sit tight. She read all of it as devotion. And of course she had to drag me into it too, always with the same excuse: it was for my own good.

Last time around, her mess got me killed. Vincent's enemies mistook me for one of his people, and I died in a shootout that had nothing to do with me.

The second the blade opened my throat, all I could think about was her holding up a bloody knife, grinning, showing it off to me like a trophy.

"Margot, look. He gave me this. It means we're official now."

I remember feeling disgusted. I never thought that same knife would end up slitting my throat.

Blood pooled across the street while she hid in Vincent's arms, screaming, hands over her eyes. Later I heard her crying to someone, saying it wasn't her fault, that I just had bad luck.

I died inside her little romance fantasy. A nobody side character, wiped off the page without a second thought.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the afternoon it all started.

"I, Dominic Thorne, hereby reject you as my fated mate." Those words shattered my soul in front of the entire pack. Eighteen years old, and I still couldn't complete a full shift—the "defective reject" everyone loved to mock. But what nobody knew was the monster sleeping inside me. When a stranger with golden eyes found me bleeding in the forest and whispered, "You're not broken. You're something the world hasn't seen in a thousand years," I realized my rejection was only the beginning. Something ancient is waking up inside me. And it's hungry.

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

For 300 days, Wendy Bailey believed she was building a family. An orphan who finally found love, she swallowed her husband's "pregnancy vitamins" like sacred vows—until she overheard the truth.

She wasn't a wife. She was a womb.

Aaron Hill's real plan: extract his heir, then bury her in a mental institution—clearing the throne of Mrs. Hill for his precious first love, Aria.

"Once she's on the delivery table, she dies after giving birth."

He wanted a son. He wanted her gone.

But Wendy already dialed the clinic. The abortion is scheduled.

Now the bleeding orphan he treats like a dog is about to teach the Hill dynasty a lesson: a vessel can shatter—and take everything down with it.

How much will it cost Aaron when he realizes he destroyed the only woman who ever truly loved him?

Revenge is coming. And it's wearing his ring.

For three years, the man I met online has called me Mistress. I've never seen his face.

Tonight, a bullet tears through my shoulder at my mafia family's welcome dinner. I hide in a linen closet, but the hitman follows me. A silver tag slips from under his shirt: Vee's Good Boy. I gave it to him. He doesn't know the woman behind the door is the one he's been begging to meet.

I text him an order. His gun vanishes from the doorway. Then his footsteps come back.

I would often find myself staring into my son Leon's eyes, lost in thought.
One, a deep azure blue, was inherited from his father. The other, however, was amber.
I couldn't understand it. While Leon's lineage is indeed mixed, his other eye should have been silver—the mark of my bloodline, the symbol of the royal werewolf lineage.
Yet it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.
Then, by chance, I came across an ancient book in my husband Carlisle's study. It detailed the hereditary rules of eye color for the royal werewolf line:
Regardless of which race they intermarry with, the direct descendants of the royal werewolves will always inherit at least one distinctive eye.
This meant that a son I bore would definitely have silver pupils.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I shared my fear—that we might have brought home the wrong child—with Carlisle.
He flew into a rage, snatched the book from my hands, and threw it into the fireplace.
"Selene, are you doubting my fidelity? Or suspecting that our son isn't your own? If Leon knew you doubted him, his heart would be shattered."
Carlisle stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Watching his retreating figure, my heart grew cold, piece by piece.
His reaction confirmed my worst fear, the one I desperately wanted to deny.
With the full moon just seven days away, I decided to abandon the plan of taking Leon back to the royal werewolf clan.

My marriage to Lucas was nothing but a cold-blooded mafia alliance. There was never any love between us.
His heart had always belonged to my best friend, Chloe. From the beginning to the end, I was never in his eyes.
And me? All I ever wanted was a sweet, honest love story of my own.
With his silent permission, I went looking for love online. But on the day I met my so-called online boyfriend for the first time, I was shoved into a lake and rescued by Chloe’s fiancé, Damon.
No one could have predicted that a man rumored to have no interest in women at all would react to me and me alone.
From that moment on, he caged me at his side and forced me to become his secret lover.
But this was never the kind of love I wanted. I still kept searching for something sweet, real, and truly mine.

To save my grandmother from the agony of silver poisoning, I signed a mate contract with Frost Pack’s Alpha Charles—trading eight years as Luna in exchange for her medical treatment.
But what was claimed to be a bond of “mutual help” was a carefully crafted lie from the start.
Charles used her life-sustaining potion to force my silence while he betrayed me over and over, parading one female wolf after another through our home.
He stood by as Thalia drove straight into my heavily pregnant body and said coldly, “You're just a surrogate anyway.”
I lay in a pool of blood, watching him walk away with her in his arms, while our Alpha pup suffocated inside me.
And then… my grandmother died too.
When the ashes of that contract scattered before her grave, and my wolf soul Chloe let out a howl that tore through my chest, I finally removed the moonphase pendant that marked me as Luna.
“Charles,” I said, voice steady with fury, “what you owe me is more than eight years of my life.”

For three years of marriage, Nicholas Harrison only saw me twice a month—each time, just to fulfill his marital duties.
He was indifferent, knew nothing about me, and when our three-year agreement was up, he couldn’t wait to chase after his true love.
I turned away with a smile. “Nicholas, let’s get a divorce. I’ll set you free.”
From that moment on, I stopped expecting anything from him and threw myself into my career.
Soon, I was shining brighter than ever, standing at the top of my field—with no place left for him by my side.
But as my talent caught the world’s eye, Nicholas found himself drawn to me, again and again, unable to resist.
Only when I walked away for good did he finally learn the truth about our past.
He was full of regret, but I had already become a national treasure—someone far beyond his reach.
I told him, “I’m done being your billionaire wife……”

when Olivia's fiancé walked out of their wedding for another woman
she ran into the pouring rain in her wedding dress💔...
Her bf's Alpha brother took her home.
"I make the rule, dear.Just say yes. l would bury him six feet beneath the ground. In Pieces."

The very day she came back into her home country, she heard the most absurd news. "Your sister is getting married with Mr. Stephenson".
"What did you say?" She couldn't believe it. At the engagement party, she was shocked to see her sister getting engaged to her fiancé.
"Daniel, remember this, I dumped you! Did you hear that? I dumped you, not the other way round."
.....
Who could have guessed that after being betrayed by her fiancé and sister and being labelled as a home wrecker, someone would still want to marry her?
"Don't you want to get revenge on your fiancé for what he did?" Nathan Clemon asked Hilda.
"What has that got to do with you?" She snapped back.
"It has got everything to do with me. I am the only person who could help you achieve that whiles giving you the happiness that any woman would wish in this world."

The night her sister steals her fiancé, Calista makes a bold, reckless move:
seduce her ex's father, marry into the family-and make them kneel and call her "Mom."
But when she wakes up, it's not her ex's father beside her.
It's Lancelot.
A construction worker by appearance-
in truth, a powerful CEO and the shadowy head of a family no one dares to cross.
"You seduced me," he says, pinning her to the wall. "Now you're mine."
But Calista isn't just a scorned socialite with a revenge plan.
Behind her quiet retreat from high society hides:
the true heiress of the richest family,
a world-class hacker,
a legendary thief,
and a gaming champion feared across continents.
They clash. They scheme.
But the more they fight, the harder they fall.

Scarlett Taylor looked at the test report saying she had a last-stage cancer, and the news of her husband, Everett Robinson, and his ex-girlfriend Amelia Martin getting married soon, and her world crumbled.
At that moment, she realized that her three years of marriage and love for Everett were nothing more than a joke.
Clenching the test reports in her hand, Scarlett decided to give up on this loveless marriage and live the remaining days of her life for herself.
At the gate of the divorce office, Everett sneered, "Scarlett Taylor, I am waiting for the day when you regret this!"
Scarlett looked at him and smiled mockingly, "The only thing I will regret is marrying you!" and left.
Two months later when Scarlett came back, Everett kneel in front of him, begging, "Scarlett, I regret it, Please forgive me and let's get back together."
Scarlett looked at him and sneered, "Get lost! I don't know you!"

"Sign the papers, Gadreel. Consider it my anniversary gift to you—our divorce."
For five years, Ivory Remington played the perfect wife. She nursed her comatose husband back to health, endured his family’s disdain, and smiled through the rumors that she was just a placeholder for his beloved stepsister. But when Gadreel awakens—only to coldly declare their marriage a business arrangement—Ivory’s last shred of hope shatters.
On the night of their anniversary, a vicious video arrives: Gadreel and her stepsister, tangled in sheets that should’ve been theirs.
Enough.
Ivory files for divorce with a parting shot that strikes his ego where it hurts most.


"You dare call me impotent?" He drags her against him, his breath hot on her lips.
"Let me remind you exactly what your husband is capable of."

"Sh*t, you weren't supposed to see this,"

He pulled the woman up, his shirt barely covering what he'd left on her behind and she grumbled, "What the hell Rico?! I haven't-"

She saw me and her eyes turned to slits.

"Whose whore are you?"

I'm going to be sick, what kind of nightmare is this.

"It's business, Sofia baby, go to the bedroom. I'll be done in a minute,"

Lenny Willow has given enough chances to the men in her life, from her drunk of a father to her slimy college boyfriend who tricked her into taking the fall for his crime wasting five years of her life in prison, she released to catch him cheating with her life savings-her only safety net. Now she's done, her walls of steels are built and nobody can get through not even her charismatic and insanely hot next door neighbor everything she shouldn't want and he can't seem to stop staring at her, he offers her a job just as she's short on rent and she's too cornered to say no. When her past comes to haunt her she finds herself running into his arms but as buried truths unravel and lies crumble as she's left to question if he was the danger she should have been running away from in the first place.

I dragged Theodore out of the car seconds before it exploded. Ever since that day, my fingers have never been the same—a permanent injury I'll carry for life.
Three years into our marriage, Scarlett came back. His foster sister. The one he'd secretly loved all along.
He indulged her every whim. Let her wear my wedding ring. Move into our marital home. Even kiss him in public.
Everyone mocked me—said I was clinging to the title of "wife" and refused to let go. Scarlett told me to my face to get out.
That day, Theodore abandoned me on the highway.
That was when I finally gave up on him completely.
I left the divorce papers behind and vanished.
Theodore found the journal I'd left. He went crazy searching for me all over the world. When he finally found me, he dropped to his knees, eyes red with desperation.
"Don't leave. You're the one I've always loved."
I smiled and took my new boyfriend's hand.
"Too bad. I don't love you anymore."

I gave my virginity to a powerful stranger to spite my cheating fiancé, only to discover he's my new boss and my ex's billionaire godfather.
Joann
He fucked my blood sister, I fucked his dad. And now we're even. 
I usually condoned Steven's misdeeds and ignored his red flags—at least the one he made obvious. Because why not? Everyone has flaws, I could deal with it. But cheating on me?? And with my immediate sister? That was the last straw.
I got with a stranger that looked familiar, and in my defense, I was high. Finding out I slept with my ex boyfriend's dad, my head bumped. I was toast! Though it felt like a payback. I tried every possible best to avoid Mr Sanchez. Had sex, moved on, but I couldn't. I'm pregnant! And for a one night stand with my ex's dad. 
This Book is highly erotic. 18+

Today is the day I marry Lucian.

The woman in the mirror wore a gown of pristine white — but Joanna Ashford's eyes held nothing of a bride's joy. Her best friend Sia's whisper brushed her ear: Everything is ready. After the wedding, we'll meet at the tree-lined path behind the estate.

This was no wedding. It was a transaction between two wolf packs. And Joanna was the bargaining chip.


Joanna had once been loved by her fated mate, Sebastian Lockwood — a border patrol Beta with nothing to his name but his integrity and the warmth in his eyes. Then her father, Roger Ashford, Alpha of the Shadow Pack, gave her a choice that was no choice at all: stand in that courtroom and destroy the man she loved, or watch her mother die on an operating table without a signed consent form.

She lied. Every word out of her mouth was a blade she drove into Sebastian herself.

He severed their bond in front of the entire clan before the gavel fell. He didn't look at her once.

She didn't know, as she watched him be led away in silver cuffs, that she was already carrying his child.


Sebastian survived the exile grounds the way only the most furious do — by refusing to die. He emerged harder, colder, and burning with a single purpose. When he walked into the Northern Pack's challenge circle and took down the old Alpha in under three minutes, no one was surprised. When he announced his chosen Luna — Sophia Carter, who had nursed him back from the edge of death — the crowd cheered.

He had built himself a life with no room for the past.

And then a chef in a flour-dusted uniform looked up from across a banquet hall, and his wolf went absolutely feral.


Joanna had spent three years building something small and stubborn out of the rubble of everything she had destroyed. A kitchen job. A tiny apartment. A son named Theo, with deep brown hair that curled at the nape just like his father's, and gray-blue eyes that saw everything.

Theo's ears hadn't developed properly. The bills were staggering. Every restaurant in the Northern Territory had been warned not to hire her.

She kept going anyway. Because Theo needed her to.


Sebastian paid off her debts without being asked. He transferred her a restaurant. He found her in his office on a full-moon night with his silver cuffs already snapped, and she stayed — and in the dark afterward he said: Move into my apartment. She said: Let's pretend this never happened.

Her wolf Nana came back at last, in a forest surrounded by rogues Sophia had sent to kill her, red fur erupting through torn skin. Go find Sebastian, Nana whispered before going quiet again. Tell him about Theo. He'll love Theo.


Tomorrow is the Moon Festival. Tomorrow is the marking ceremony that will bind Sebastian to Sophia forever.

Joanna has one chance left — and one question she cannot answer.

When Sebastian learns the truth about the courtroom, about the child he never knew existed — will he look at Theo and see his son?

Or will he only see her betrayal?