2861 Book(s) Related to my divorced crybaby neighbour chapter 30

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling my silk robe tight.

Theron's voice remained controlled and cold. "You are not the biological daughter of the Reed family, and they've found their real daughter."

My face drained of color. I had planned to explain everything upon his return, but Victoria had beaten me to it.

"What do you intend to do about our marriage?" I forced myself to ask directly.

"Marriage for me is a procedure, regardless of who it's with." With that, he picked up his briefcase and left.

_

Six years ago, Leila's fake heiress identity was exposed. Theron ruthlessly divorced her, and she was framed for attempted murder. Only after the divorce did she discover she was carrying his child. Blacklisted and desperate, she survived in a basement until her real family found her—she was the lost princess of Chicago's powerful Randall Family.

She gave birth to precious twins, but was told her baby boy didn't survive, leaving only her beloved daughter. What she didn't know was that destiny had other plans.

Six years later, a business venture brought her back to San Francisco, where she faced her cold ex-husband—who had a five-year-old son. Even more twisted - he was now her patient, completely at her mercy. Gone was his former arrogance; now he pursued her with desperate intensity. Could she ever forgive the man who destroyed her, or would she make him pay for the hell he put her through?

The slap came without warning, Mom's palm cracking against my cheek. Blood filled my mouth.

"Eighteen years of wasting my time on worthless, un-awakened trash!" she screamed.

Dad's boot connected with my ribs before I could recover. I crumpled to the floor, gasping.

"Get out of Shadowveil Pack," he snarled. "Crawl back to whatever filthy omega family spawned you. We don't need garbage polluting our territory."

I looked desperately at my brother, hoping for mercy. He just stood there, arms crossed, disgust in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. You're not my real sister. Just some charity case we took in for Vanessa."

Elara spent eighteen years as a living curse vessel for Vanessa, enduring pain and scorn as a wolfless outcast. Cast out and broken, she returns to her birth father's pack only to face new humiliation.

But when ancient Guardian magic awakens within her, Elara discovers a dark conspiracy threatening all werewolf society—a blood magic cult draining powerful bloodlines. As she investigates, she awakens as the legendary Silver Moon Imperial Wolf, a bloodline thought extinct.

In her fight against evil, fate brings her Kaine Thorne, the future Alpha King. Their unexpected bond ignites a love that defies all odds. Together, they must stop an enemy seeking to enslave their world, but victory demands the ultimate sacrifice—Elara's life force to save those who never showed her mercy.

A story of redemption, fated love, and finding the strength to protect a world that cast you aside.

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

Blake pinned me against the edge of the desk, his fingertips scorching, papers scattering across the floor. "Stop lying to yourself," he murmured coldly, "You need me."

I should have hated him—his father was the prime suspect in my parents' death, yet his touch made me tremble. "I hate you…" I gritted my teeth, but my voice was weak.

He smirked, his grip tightening, "Yet your body is responding to me." His fingers slid deeper, "So wet, and you still say you don’t want me?"

"Ah…Blake…" I arched my back, my sanity crumbling.

He chuckled softly, "Good girl."


After Emma's parents passed away, she was supported by the Reynolds family, particularly Gavin. She gradually fell in love with him. After knowing each other for ten years and being together for five, she accidentally discovered Gavin's ambiguous relationship with Sophia, his late brother's widow, just as she was about to marry him.

Then fate led her to an emotional entanglement with Blake from her partner company, but it also hinted that the car accident that caused her parents' deaths seemed to be related to Blake's father...

The man who healed her wounds might be the son of the man who destroyed her life. Thunder roared as Blake’s key turned: "Emma?" Standing before the evidence, her heart was torn. When love and vengeance collided, what would she choose?

"Looking for trouble?" His gaze locked onto me, lazy yet sharp.

"Take me home," I breathed, pulse racing.

"Know the risks?" His thumb traced my wrist, sending shivers.

"I want it."

His mouth claimed mine, biting. Fingers shoved under fabric, groping. Rip – fabric gave way.

"Dripping already?" He growled, fingers circling my core. "Eager little thing."

"...Stop—"

"Stop?" He thrust two fingers deep. "Or stop there?"

I cried out. He freed himself, hot steel grinding against bare skin.

_

After three years of cold neglect in her marriage to Idris—who still pined for his ex, Raven—Vera reached her limit. A call from Raven during their first intimate moment was the final straw. Divorce was her only escape.

Seeking solace with a friend, a reckless night led her to Atlas Blackwell, the powerful CEO now leading her company. To silence his family’s demands and forge a new path, they entered a one-year contract marriage.

Now, with the contract expiring, Vera stands at a crossroads. Idris begs for forgiveness, promising change. Yet Atlas, her husband in name only, has proven himself her true anchor.

Two men. One heart. Which future will she choose?

Ivy Hayes has one dream: escape to the Solaris Sanctuary where sunlight keeps vampires away forever. But when she encounters her dying high school classmate Lucien Sinclair at the blood lodge, everything shatters.

Lucien is now a vampire, poisoned by silver and descending into madness. His brother Valerius—the ruthless head of the Blackwood family—kidnaps Ivy and drags her into his estate. Her scent is the only thing keeping Lucien sane. She's not a nurse. She's a living sedative, monitored and controlled, her body no longer her own.

Valerius underwent an ancient ritual that severed his empathy. To him, Ivy is just another possession to manage. He controls her every movement, destroys her escape routes, and tightens his grip until she's utterly trapped. But his cold precision hides something far more dangerous—a dark obsession that hungers for more than obedience.

While caring for Lucien, Ivy finds unexpected tenderness with the gentle vampire who still remembers her. But when Valerius corners her in shadowed hallways, his touch blurs the line between punishment and twisted desire.

Then Seraphina arrives—Valerius's fiancée and the woman who once shattered Lucien's heart. Her return ignites a vicious war between brothers, with Ivy trapped at the center.

One vampire offers her broken tenderness. One demands absolute surrender. One wants her destroyed.

Can Ivy reclaim her freedom—or will she discover that some chains are forged with blood, desire, and darkness?

WARNING: Dark paranormal romance with explicit content, dubious consent, captivity, and morally complex relationships. 18+ only.

"I have nothing to offer you," I told him. "Only myself."

"Renard can at least give you a concubine's title." His eyes moved over me once. "Don't imagine you can negotiate for even a blood slave's position with me."

I did not flinch. "I know that."

The knife was still in his hand. His voice was flat. Final. "So why come to me at all?"

"Because my godmother was going to hand me to her husband. I needed another way out." I held his gaze. "You are the most useful person I can reach."


After her parents died, Evelyne Olara made her way to Chalk City, where her godmother had promised there would be a place for her.

There was. Just not the kind she had hoped for.

The Valerius ducal house took her in as a ward and immediately began calculating what she was worth. Her guardian wants her for his bed. Her godmother wants her as a bargaining piece for the winter marriage market.

And at the center of it all stands Cassius Valerius. Grand Inquisitor of the Heresy Tribunal. Cursed with a madness no physician in the empire has ever been able to touch. The man they call the Forsaken Dragon behind closed doors, because everyone who has ever tried to get close to him has eventually stopped trying.

What begins as a transaction, cold and precisely worded and signed in blood, becomes something neither of them has a name for.

He gave her protection. She gave him the only thing that could silence the darkness in his blood. But what happens when a contract signed in desperation becomes the one thing neither of them can afford to lose?

WARNING: Dark fantasy romance with morally complex characters, dubious consent, and mature themes. 18+ only.

I once believed that if I was obedient enough, my birth family would finally love me. Instead, they gave everything to Anna, the fake heiress—my competition spot, my reputation, even my kidney.
Then I opened my eyes and returned to the year it all began.
This time, I won’t beg. I won’t yield. My achievements, my dignity, and my life belong to me.
When everyone called me vicious, Damian Sterling draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked in a low voice, “Am I an outsider?”
I leaned into him and smiled. “Of course not.”
But soon I discovered he was being slowly poisoned—and the culprit might be someone closest to him. Worse, the truth behind my death in my previous life may be darker than I ever imagined…

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.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

At the Morello family’s Christmas dinner, I stood beside Vincent, waiting for him to announce our engagement.
Instead, in the very next second, he walked in holding a little boy and claimed him as his son.
And the woman he said he was going to marry? Scarlett Morello. The one he had always introduced as his “sister.”
The whole room erupted in applause. I stood there frozen, like a nail hammered into the floor.
Later, in his study, he took my hand and said, “Scarlett is dying. Late-stage breast cancer. She only has six months left. After she’s gone, I’ll marry you.”
But there was no guilt in his eyes. No love, either.
Then he told me to go to his villa that afternoon, to take care of the woman who was supposedly “dying.”
I opened the photo he sent me. Scarlett was lying in a hospital bed, pale-faced, an IV in the back of her hand.
A professional tennis player who had been playing in an exhibition match three weeks ago, and who had dropped three grand at Louis Vuitton on Fifth Avenue just five days ago.
But sure. She was “dying.”
At three in the morning, I was curled up by the front door of my apartment, crying so long I lost track of time.
Then my phone lit up. A text from an unknown number:
[Elena, I’m downstairs. When we were kids, you told me that once I controlled the docks on the East Coast, you’d marry me. The docks are mine now. Does that promise still stand?]
I pulled back the curtain and there he was. Ethan Vitale, my first love, leaning against the door of a black Cadillac, lifting a hand in a lazy wave.
Three years ago, when he left New York, he was only a Capo.
Now, he was the Don of the Vitale family.
He didn’t rush me. Didn’t pressure me to come downstairs.
He came for one reason only, to let me know he was back.
I wiped away my tears and texted back:
[It still stands.]
Because I wanted to see for myself just how long that woman could keep up her act.