3561 Book(s) Related to my husband's secret wife ending

My biggest regret? Trusting my husband with my mother's life.

The day the mudslide hit, I was on my knees. Begging him to send a helicopter.

He told me to wait. Twenty minutes. But when the helicopter came, it went for his adoptive sister Vivian instead.

I held my mother in the ruins. Her body was shutting down. I waited. Waited until she went cold in my arms.

When he finally showed up at the hospital, the first thing he said? Accused me of faking it. Said I just wanted attention.

In that moment, my heart died too.

Later, I found out Vivian wasn't even sick.

She said "I don't feel well"—that's all it took. And he left my mother and me to die.

Called me a lunatic. In front of everyone. All for her.

I was ready to leave. For good. Then someone shattered my mother's ashes.

I thought my husband was my salvation.
Until I overheard him in the wine cellar, laughing and joking with my "attackers" from that night.
The gang rape that destroyed me was a show he orchestrated himself.

He married me only for inheritance rights.
He humiliated me, branded me, took away my child, and made my life a living hell.
But he forgot one thing—
The ancient blood oath of the Corleone family states clearly:
If a husband betrays his marriage, everything he owns shall belong to his wife.

This time, I'm no longer the rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
This time, I write the ending.

One month until the SAT.
Staring at my phone screen—at the pulsing number on "Oracle," the mandatory score prediction app that Elite Prep forced every student to install—I couldn't help but think it was all a joke.
In my previous life, every time I finished a practice test, this garbage system would automatically dock twenty points from my predicted score.
But skip class for a day? The number would mysteriously jump up twenty points.
Back then, I actually believed in this bullshit algorithm. I completely gave up for an entire month, watching that predicted score skyrocket all the way to 1550.
But when I finally logged into College Board to check my real results, I'd scored a pathetic 400.
And that brilliant 1550? It appeared on my stepsister Dahlia's score report instead.
Disgusted that I'd embarrassed the Wright family, my father Harold froze my credit card without a second thought and threw me out of the family estate, clearing the path for Dahlia to claim Grandpa's ten-million-dollar trust fund all for herself.
That night, homeless on the streets, I was cornered by some thugs in a filthy Brooklyn alley and beaten to death.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, fading fast, I heard Dahlia's voice.
"Your GPA's been crushing mine since we were kids. I thought you, the so-called 'Straight-A student,' were supposed to be so smart."
She stood over me, mocking. "Turns out you got played by a prediction app. Pathetic."
That's when it finally clicked. My Oracle prediction system had been completely rigged from the source code—by Dahlia.
I shot up in bed, gasping, my shirt soaked through with sweat. I'd actually gone back in time—one month before the test.
Right now, the Oracle widget glowed eerily on my phone's home screen, displaying a single number: 1350.

For three years, everyone at Spire Academy believed Liam loved me. Until I uncovered his secret plan: steal my academy recommendation to save Anna, and keep me waiting on the sidelines. He handed my future to another girl and threw me to a mad duke to be dissected. I escaped death by leaping into the Rift of Silence, only to be pulled from the abyss by Arnold, an ancient night lord. When Liam finally realized his sin, he begged for a second chance. But the girl who waited for him in the dark died in the rift. I have a new life, and I will never look back.

I died on the fourth night after Thanksgiving.
A blizzard had swallowed the entire town, and I was locked in an unheated attic.
My broken leg had turned black with infection. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. I tore four fingernails from their beds, but I still couldn’t claw my way through the door.
With the last of my strength, I held my old iPad against the frost-covered window.
On the screen, my twin sister, Lily, stood beneath the Alps, rosy-cheeked and healthy, raising a crystal glass. Our parents stood on either side of her.
My life was beating inside her chest.
The caption read: [Just the three of us. Finally, some peace.]
A single tear slipped into my hair.
I closed my eyes.
I had traded my life for hers.
Now it was time for them to learn how much that life had cost.

"Is lying the only skill you have left? Don't play dead until you actually land in a coffin!"
That was what my billionaire brother roared as he crumpled my stage-four cancer diagnosis and threw it at my face.
To him, I was a spoiled brat who needed a brutal reality check.
He engineered a fake DNA test, gave my identity to a manipulative orphan girl, and watched me get dragged to a disciplinary camp.
Now, he offers me an arrogant ultimatum: Stay quiet and wait half a month, and he’ll graciously allow me to come home.
I clutched my agonizing stomach and laughed until I cried.
Wait half a month?
I can't even guarantee I'll wake up tomorrow.
But I can't wait to see his face when he finally decides to forgive me, only to realize I've already been dead......

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

A past generations’ wrongful case makes Julian mistake innocent Sienna for his foe’s daughter. Exploiting her crush, he ruins her Cambridge dream on graduation night, destroying her family. For five years, Sienna works in a sleazy club to fund her sick mother’s care.
Their unexpected reunion leaves Julian torn between disgust and secret affection. When the truth surfaces, consumed by regret, he cancels his wedding and spends all his wealth to atone. Yet Sienna’s love is long gone. After settling her family with his money, she leaves forever.

I catch my husband in bed with the live-in housekeeper.

He shoves her behind him. "She's only twenty. Barely out on her own, doesn't know any better. Can't you be the bigger person here?"

His mother points a finger in my face. "You're an orphan. If we hadn't taken you in, you'd still be out on the street begging."

"Be smart about this. Make room for Kaylee, so we can all live under one roof in peace."

They've both forgotten that back then he couldn't even make rent, and I worked three jobs to build his company for him.

Forgotten the year his company was going under, when I ran to three different banks across the city in a downpour chasing investors, passed out in the street, and lost the baby.

Four whole years of them looking down on me after that.

I say I want a divorce.

Preston just laughs at me. "You're a housewife. Walk out that door and you'll starve on the sidewalk by tomorrow."

I drag my suitcase onto the overnight bus and go home to a place I haven't set foot in for ten years.

It's the middle of the night when I get there. The streets are empty. Three men reeking of liquor block my way.

That hand is about to touch my face when a Harley roars up and stops right beside me.

The muscled guy on it has a cigarette in his mouth. He looks me over. "Need a hand?"

I’m Wren, hidden sole heir of Ravenwood Pack, living as a regular lone wolf at wolf academy. My roommate Brielle steals my exclusive pine pheromone, copies my relics, steals my elite quota and tricks my betrothed Alpha Kane with a fake royal identity. I challenge her to present the unforgeable Lunar Pearl at the ball. When my father, the pack Alpha, exposes her family’s theft, I reject the misled Kane and reclaim everything the imposter stole from me.

For three years, I paid so my sister could rebuild her life — her rent, her lawyers, her hospital bills, the shop she now runs in my name. Lucas, my fiance, always told me it was the right thing to do. I believed him, because believing him was easier than admitting how tired I was. I flew home two days early to surprise him. Instead, I opened my own front door and found my sister in his lap, wearing my robe, laughing in a voice I'd paid to keep happy for years. Ninety-nine empty perfume bottles stood along the wall — quiet witnesses to nights I never knew existed. Lucas didn't apologize. He asked me to be more understanding. My sister cried and called me cruel. I stood in the apartment I bought, surrounded by the people I built a home for, and realized I had never once been the one who got to be loved first.

With five days left before I was to leave the Black-Fig Pack and marry into the Pear Pack, I packed away everything Kael Thorne had ever left behind.
For five years, I had cherished his lost cufflinks, dried wildflowers he casually picked, and even a used handkerchief.
Now, they meant nothing to me.
I remembered every rejection and every scar he gave me, but I had completely lost the feeling of loving him. It was as if the Moon Goddess herself had severed the bond in my soul.
Kael thought I was just playing hard to get. He didn't know I had already chosen a new life—and that I would never return.

After three years of agonizing IVF, I was forced into three abortions. The reason? My mafia in-laws’ pet bird stared at my belly and shrieked, "End it."
Even when I was carrying healthy twins, my own parents held me down and forced abortion pills down my throat. My husband—the man I once took a bullet for—watched coldly. "Listen to the bird. Abort."
Lying in a pool of blood, I finally discovered the horrific truth. There was no "sacred bird." My marriage, my ruined womb, and all the IVF tortures were actually part of a terrifying conspiracy.
On my fourth pregnancy, the bird finally decreed, "Keep it!"
As the whole family treated me like a queen and rejoiced to welcome their precious heir, I quietly walked into the operating room.
Armed with lethal evidence, I crashed their grand succession ceremony.
You want an heir? I’ll send you all to hell instead.

I died on the night of my eighteenth graduation party, pushed off a rooftop by the two people I trusted most.

In my past life, I was the ultimate fool.

When my two childhood friends—both heirs to top elite families—decided to throw away their futures, I panicked.

They actually wanted to reject their admission offers from Harvard and Yale.

All to follow Lily, a charity case from the slums, to a literal no-name trade school called Sunny Valley Vocational Academy.

I begged them to stop.

I even used my family's connections to try and get Lily into a legitimate university.

But Lily wept in front of them, claiming my money insulted her dignity, and that I was just jealous of their "pure love."

Liam and Noah completely lost their minds.

That night, they cornered me on the roof.

"Vivian, you killed Lily. Go to hell!"

As it turned out, Lily went to that trash school alone and committed suicide.

They blamed me entirely for her death, nursing that grudge until they finally pushed me into the abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day we were supposed to lock in our college choices.

This time, count me out.

When my husband's eight-year-old "nephew" Noah was diagnosed with acute leukemia, the whole family begged for my help.

They needed my six-year-old daughter, Molly—the only perfect match.

Against my instincts as a head nurse, I agreed.

But the second Molly's stem cells were harvested, their gratitude vanished.

To avoid paying for my daughter’s mandatory sterile recovery room, Noah's mother live-streamed a crying fit in my lobby, accusing me of medical extortion. My husband, Grant, stood by in utter silence.

Without the isolation bed, my baby girl contracted a severe infection and died. My mother-in-law simply sneered outside the ICU, "Dead is dead. Better than wasting more money."

Three months later, Noah relapses.

Now, my phone is blowing up. The same people who watched my daughter suffocate in her own fluids are desperately begging me to use my hospital registry access to save him again.

Standing by Molly’s tiny headstone, I look down at the confidential DNA report I pulled from the hospital database.

They think I don’t know Noah is actually Grant's illegitimate son. They think I'll just hang up and cry.

Instead, I swipe to answer the call. It's time to make them pay.

To protect my older sister's piano championship, my own brother crushed all ten of my fingers.
To win my sister's favor, my fiancé hired someone to kick the baby out of me.
After surviving a fire that nearly killed me, I finally woke up.
And when I returned, I blasted the hard proof of their affair and their schemes all over the internet. As I watched them lose their minds, lose everything, and drop to their knees begging for mercy, I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and claimed the top of the world!

I had the gift of beast-speech, and beasts never lied to me.
When my sister, Valora, brought me a wild berry tart, a forest finch shrieked, "Poison!" In my past life, I believed it. I flipped the tray, cursed her, and was thrown into the dungeon like a madwoman. In this life, I did the opposite. I ate it. I vomited blood, and my spirit wolf died instantly.
When it was time to marry, a raven warned me that my Alpha fiancé was a "disfigured madman." In my past life, I broke the engagement and married a Beta, only to be tortured to death by him and his mistress. In this life, I insisted on marrying the Alpha. But on my wedding night, a blood-soaked, disfigured monster was waiting for me.
When my mother-in-law, Liora, coughed up blood in front of everyone, a nightingale cried, "Give her White Dittany for the poison!" In my past life, I force-fed her the herb, and she bled from her eyes and died. In this life, I stopped anyone from giving her the herb. But that night, she died anyway.
Listen to them, and I die. Ignore them, and I still die.
Then, I opened my eyes. I had been reborn, back to the exact moment everything went wrong...

For three years I played the perfect fiancée to the most dangerous Alpha in the city.
I walked on tiptoe because he hated noise. I taught myself to cook meat the way wolves like it. I messaged him every night he didn't come home, and most nights he didn't.
I did it because the Sacred Spring said I was his fated mate, and a human with no magic doesn't survive here without one.
Then the Temple sent me a notice. The old reading was an error. Our true match rating is zero. The bond is void as of today, and they wish me all the best.
Honestly? I was relieved. I dumped his dinner in the trash, dragged my suitcase out from under the bed, and wrote him an IOU for three years of rent.
Then Kael came home early.
He looked at the empty plate. He looked at the suitcase. And the coldest Alpha in the city stepped into the doorway so I couldn't get past him.
"Who told you our match rating was zero?"
"And who told you that you were free to walk out on me?"

On our wedding day, Declan sent me out to Long Island. We'd been together seven years.

He said he'd left his grandmother's lucky cufflinks at the family house.

But when my car died in the storm, I opened my bridesmaid's Instagram live.

Declan was sliding my custom diamond ring onto Phoebe's finger—my adopted sister, the one with the bad heart.

My own parents were crying in the front row. My bridesmaids were cheering.

They'd turned my wedding into a dying wish ceremony for Phoebe.

Hours later, alone in the ER, I called forty-seven times.

No one picked up.

Not until after I lost the baby and disappeared from Manhattan.

That's when Declan finally came apart.

All I wanted was a quiet place to live. I drained my savings and paid eighty thousand extra for the one unit on the row with a private backyard.
On my very first day, I found my neighbor's son beating my new hydrangeas with a stick while his mother stood there filming him and laughing.
Bianca says the yard belongs to everybody. Her husband is vice president of the HOA board, so around here, whatever he says is the law.
I showed them my deed. I called the police. I sent a certified letter. Every single time the answer came back the same. This is a civil matter, ma'am. Maybe try being a better neighbor.
Then her son put a rock through my living room window, and the HOA fined me two hundred and fifty dollars for putting a lock on my own gate.
Fine. They want that gate open? It stays open.
I just made one phone call. A truck is already on its way.

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

I had been Lucan Ferretti's wife for five years. I had also been the woman who took a bullet meant for him.
Four years of fertility treatments. Four years of empty rooms where a nursery should have been. Then, the day I finally get a positive test, I find something else: two secret sons, funded by my husband's money, waiting in a house I was never supposed to find.
Their names? The ones Lucan and I picked out together, years ago, in a hospital parking lot.
That night, I sat alone with the positive test still in my hand, memorizing the names he'd already given to someone else's sons.
I could have confronted him. I could have screamed, thrown things, demanded a divorce.
Instead, I find a text message. His mistress has already ordered a hit — on me, timed for our anniversary, dressed up to look like enemy retaliation.
She wants me dead before I can tell anyone I'm carrying his child.
Fine.
She can have exactly what she asked for.

Two years ago, my best friend Maddie knelt in front of me, crying as she borrowed $50,000.
The very next day, she vanished off the face of the earth. No explanation, no apology, not even a single text message.
I was left carrying her toxic debt. I lost my fiancé, and I lost my ability to trust anyone.
Until one late night, a call came in from an unknown number originating in an abandoned mining district in West Virginia.
On the other end of the line, Maddie said she was getting married. She had the money ready—every last cent.
The wedding venue was a ruined church deep in the mountains, abandoned for a decade. The time: Friday, midnight.

My downstairs neighbor tagged me in the building group chat at ten p.m.
His wife just had a pup, he said. Pups need moonlight, he said. So starting tonight, my private moon terrace belongs to his family.
He'd even pay me rent. Ten dollars a month.
For the terrace of a three-million-dollar penthouse.
When I said no, he reminded me he wasn't just my neighbor. He's my supervisor at the Calloway Group, and my probation review sits in his hands. Hand over the door code, or I'd never survive at that company.
He kept saying it. I can crush you at the Calloway Group.
Funny.
My mother owns the Calloway Group.
I was going to let him dig his own grave quietly. Then his family broke into my home, walked up to the one thing on that terrace worth half a million dollars—
And smashed it.

A hormonal condition pushed my weight to two hundred pounds, and for three years, this boarding school made sure I never forgot it.

The ringleader was the guy every girl worshipped.

And beside him stood his girlfriend, the one who always stepped in at my worst moments with a soft voice and a sympathetic look, like she was doing me a favor.

Everyone called her an angel. Only I knew the truth: every time she "helped," things got worse.

One day, she handed me a candy in front of everyone. "Here. Something sweet always helps."

I didn't feel like I had a choice.

That night, a demon showed up at the foot of my bed.

"Congratulations. You ate the pact candy. I'll grant you three wishes — money, beauty, lifespan. You name it, I'll make it happen."

My whole body shook. Three years of humiliation, and finally there was a way out. Wealth, beauty, revenge. All I had to do was ask.

Then the demon's expression shifted, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"There's a catch, though. The real pact-holder is someone else. Whatever you wish for, the one who gave you that candy gets double."

The words I was about to say died in my throat.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

Double?

That's way more interesting than three wishes.

The day before spring break, Cole Bennett asks me, red in the face, if he can borrow my empty place up in the hills for one night.

I figure he's planning a birthday party for me, so I don't think twice about handing over the code to the estate.

I've already decided that night is when I'll tell him who I really am.

Eight o'clock on my birthday, I push open the brass doors of the estate, worth millions by themselves.

Music blasts through the great room. The place is packed with people from school, all of them craning their necks, gushing about how gorgeous the house is.

I hold back a grin, ready to go find him and see what he's got planned.

Then I see her in the middle of the crowd, everyone crowding around her, glasses raised.

Sloane Bishop.

Five years in hell, my beloved and best friend joined hands to push me into the abyss. The savior I trusted was actually a deadly fraud. Reborn from despair, Vito came through the light. I tore apart the scumbag and the evil woman, settled all debts, broke free from the shadow, stepped into the light, and lived the rest of my life only for myself.

My dad made me a smoothie every morning for six months. I thought it was love.
It was a muscle relaxant.
He'd been slipping just enough into my drink to make my fingers tremble at full draw — just enough to cost me first place at every major competition. Not enough to kill me. Just enough to let Laurel beat me.
Laurel. His mistress's daughter. The girl he bought custom diamond jewelry while giving me clearance-rack gear for my birthday. The girl he wanted to drop into my family, my home, and my spot on the podium.
I found the proof. Stopped drinking his smoothies. Clawed my way back to number one.
Then, two days before the National Youth Archery Trials — the one competition that decides everything — he picked up a steel rod and swung it at my right arm.
My drawing arm.
The bone cracked. Doctors said three months minimum. My coach couldn't look me in the eye. Every scout, every scholarship, every dream I'd bled for over three years — gone in one swing from the man who was supposed to protect me.
Trials start tomorrow morning. And I can't hold a bow.

One of my employees went online and dragged me, claiming I'm making them sacrifice their health for a paycheck and forcing everyone to work over Thanksgiving.

Here's what actually happened. My company gives nine days off for Thanksgiving. Volunteer to work overtime, get triple pay, with a $500 daily meal stipend and a $5,000 bonus. No one gets penalized for not working.

The whole internet's tearing into me for making employees sell their lives for cash. So I give her exactly what she wants and send out a company-wide notice:

To protect employee mental health, the building gets locked and the power gets cut over Thanksgiving. No one is allowed to work for any reason. Anyone who does gets fired.

The minute that email goes out, the employees who were counting on overtime to pay their mortgages lose it. Now they're all crowded outside the building, begging me to open the doors.

"Forty dollars. That's all the inhaler I needed to breathe cost. But in our house, nothing comes easy. 'Fairness first. Roll the dice — highest number wins.' I've rolled my whole life. I've never won. Not once. Tonight, lungs burning, vision blurring, I rolled for my medicine money against my sister. She got a six. I got a two. 'You lost, Hazel. Now go to the attic and think about your selfishness.' The door locked behind me. My chest is closing up. And no one is coming to check."

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.

For nine years, I lived as my twin sister’s replacement Luna. I raised her pup as if she were my own. I treated that man as my fated mate. What I got in return was the Pack that unanimously decided I was the monster who “killed Edna”, and the sinner Ann swore should go to hell.
At Ann’s birthday banquet, I accidentally knocked over a framed photo. Ann shoved me in front of a room full of Alphas and elders, drenching me in red wine, smiling as she said I wasn’t worthy of touching anything of the House.
I thought that if I endured nine years, I could finally leave. Then Eric suddenly changed his mind.
Ann stuffed the corpse of the little bird I’d been raising into a gift box and threatened me with a sweet smile. “You’re the next.”
When I dragged my suitcase to the door, she shifted to wolf in front of everyone, slammed me to the ground, her fangs pressed against my throat.
What they didn’t expect was that my real backer had returned, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, my biological father, David.

Five years, I bled for Dario. Took a bullet for him. Cleaned up his dirtiest books. Drank myself into the ER just to keep his bosses sweet.
Then he slid divorce papers across the table and told me to sign. His mistress was pregnant; the family needed a "proper" heir, and I was in the way. So I signed—and let him strip me of everything I'd built.
Three hours later, a rival crew ran his car off the bridge. He survived. But he will never father a child again.
Now he's pouring a fortune he can't spare into his mistress's baby, showing off his "heir" to every boss in New York. He thinks his bloodline is finally safe.
He has no idea whose child he's really raising. And I'm the only one who does.

I was reborn on the very night George White—Don of the White family—was drugged and lost his mind to pure, animal lust.
This time, I didn't offer myself as the cure.
Instead, I gave him the woman he truly wanted. My sister.

In my past life, I fell in love with the Don of the White family. George.
When I learned he'd been drugged—stripped of every shred of reason—I made the choice I could never take back.
I didn't push him away. A month later, I was pregnant.
The family council forced him to marry me. For the heir. For the name. For everything except love.
On the morning of our wedding, my sister Leah couldn't bear it. She fled the estate alone.
That night, a rival family's killers found her.
Before she died, she called George ninety-nine times.
But George was at my wedding. The wedding I had begged for. So he never answered. Not once.

After marrying Rex, I lived every moment on edge, like a she-wolf treading thin ice.
I had to obey his suffocating rules of cleanliness—ritual-level strictness that bordered on obsession—and endure his complete indifference in bed, a coldness no heat could thaw.
I healed his mind when it was fractured, soothed the instability in his wolf, and stood beside him as he rose—step by step—to become the next Alpha heir of the GloomFall Pack.
And yet, on the night of my thirtieth birthday, I discovered the truth.
He was entangled with his father’s mistress—the secret lover of the former Alpha.

"Suck my nipples, now!" He ordered before he spoke again.
"Yes! I Own you! You are mine alone. Remember you are indebted to me and If you can't accept that fact, walk away from me and be imprisoned. The choice is yours." He said.


His name was CEO Evidence. He owns a condom company. He was arrogant and was a young billionaire of every woman's dream. He was addicted to sex.
He thought that since 90% of women craved to have him, he would never get rejected by any lady but what happens when the arrogant Sex God who was every woman's dream got rejected by a commoner whom he claimed to love?
Will he pleasure himself with her body by force?
Or he would wait until the day she accepts to willingly give her body to him?

In my past life, I spent everything loving Ronald Wright, only to watch him chase after his first love and marry her in the end. I died alone and sick in a hospital, forgotten.

After being reborn, I gave up. On our wedding anniversary, I asked for a divorce. I walked away from being a full-time housewife and became the youngest rising star in the design world.

But something changed. The husband who once ignored me suddenly cared. He came home every day, afraid I might cheat on him.
I sneered, “One day, you’ll be the one begging for a divorce.” He laughed, “Keep dreaming.”

I waited for him to realize, just like in the past, that he still loved the other woman and would force me to leave, giving me millions in return.

But this time, he pulled me into his arms and said, “What’s money after a divorce? I’m worth billions. It’s all yours. But you—you’re mine.”

I can't breathe. Every touch, every kiss from Tristan set my body on fire, drowning me in a sensation I shouldn't have wanted—especially not that night.
"You're like a sister to me."
Those were the actual words that broke the camel's back.
Not after what just happened. Not after the hot, breathless, soul-shaking night we spent tangled in each other's arms.
I knew from the beginning that Tristan Hayes was a line I shouldn't cross.
He wasn't just anyone, he was my brother's best friend. The man I spent years secretly wanting.
But that night... we were broken. We had just buried our parents. And the grief was too heavy, too real...so I begged him to touch me.
To make me forget. To fill the silence that death left behind.
And he did. He held me like I was something fragile.
Kissed me like I was the only thing he needed to breathe.
Then left me bleeding with six words that burned deeper than rejection ever could.
So, I ran. Away from everything that cost me pain.
Now, five years later, I'm back.
Fresh from rejecting the mate who abused me. Still carrying the scars of a pup I never got to hold.
And the man waiting for me at the airport isn't my brother.
It's Tristan.
And he's not the guy I left behind.
He's a biker.
An Alpha.
And when he looked at me, I knew there was no where else to run to.

Seraphina died betrayed. She perished in flames—poisoned by Darius, the fated mate she'd foolishly loved. Her childhood sweetheart, who sacrificed her only to save his mistress.
Reborn five years earlier, Seraphina vows: Never again. No more submissions. No more suffering his cruelty. This time, she'll rewrite her destiny - then she meets Kairos.
The Untamed Alpha King who loathes the mate bond after his own betrayal. Her second-chance mate - a bond that will kill her if she rejects it.
Now, caught between Kairos' relentless pursuit and Darius' desperate attempts to reclaim her, Seraphina faces an impossible choice:
Drown the world in vengeance... or risk her shattered heart on the mate who could either heal her scars or destroy her completely?

No matter how far I ran, no matter how deep I hid, I knew one truth… He would always find me.

Knock. Knock.

I jolted up from my sitting position, with my heart hammering in my chest.

Just as I was saying... He had found me.

But by the time he broke down the rickety door, I was already standing and facing him with a knife to my wrist.

I'd rather die than return home with him as his mate.


Eve thought she and her mother had successfully escaped her abusive father by getting married to the former Alpha of a pack far away from where they lived.

But all her hopes were cut short the moment she realized her new stepbrother, Alpha Saint, who was also the current Alpha of her new pack, was the same man she had a one-night stand with eight months ago, along with his best friend, Beta Kyrie. And on that fateful night, she had stolen very valuable items from these men.

Hated and controlled by her stepbrother, who saw her as nothing but a thieving whore, Eve decided to find solace in Kyrie, who was already falling madly in love with her. But Saint would rather fight his bestfriend to the death than let him anywhere close to the woman he was secretly obsessed with from the day he set eyes on her.

All hell was let loose when Eve turned twenty-one and found out that not only was she mated to the man she loved and desired – Kyrie. She was also mated to her overly possessive stepbrother, whom she dreaded with her life.


TRIGGER WARNING!

This is a dark romance novel, which might contain some unsettling themes rated 18+. It is everything dark and forbidden. Please, be guided.

I caught my fiancé in bed with my sister, so I married his sociopath older brother to save my legacy, and now I'm his favorite toy to break.
"I should have refused." I shook my head, my eyes sweeping towards the silver eyed devil standing before me, with no ounce of guilt or remorse in his eyes. "I should have never married you."
"That hurts my feeling." That was a cruel joke, because we both know that he doesn't even have feelings to begin with.
"But there isn't any man who could love you like I do; not even Thorne."
I paused when his long, cold index finger trailed my face stopping at my lips, and his eyes met mine again. They were dark… with lust.
"Fuck you." I muttered with hate and anger dripping in my voice.
"I believe even right now, all you want is me." He mused and he wasn't wrong, because he never said I couldn't leave. Yet, I found myself staying, and hoping he would change.
"And all that completes me is you." His lips cam crashing on mine.


Eden Montclair is your everyday surgeon who tries to get by every surgery without complications, she has created high hopes for herself that she would inherit her grandmother's hospital.
She soon finds out that the hospital was dying and they might need to merger it with the biggest healthcare foundation in the country, only on the condition that her little sister, Evangeline marries the heir to the foundation. Eden's life soon falls into chaos when Evangeline ran away to avoid that fate, and now Eden is in the front line to marry the Heir of the Adler Foundation. Theron Adler. A cold-blooded and precise surgeon, who doesn't have many interests in life, and a diagnosed psychopath.
That's not all, he is also the older brother of her ex-boyfriend and they both had history together.

“I should have refused.” I shook my head, my eyes sweeping towards the silver eyed devil standing before me, with no ounce of guilt or remorse in his eyes. “I should have never married you.”
“That hurts my feeling.” That was a cruel joke, because we both know that he doesn’t even have feelings to begin with. “But there isn’t any man who could love you like I do; not even Thorne.”
I paused when his long, cold index finger trailed my face stopping at my lips, and his eyes met mine again.
They were dark… with lust.
“Fuck you.” I muttered with hate and anger dripping in my voice.
“I believe even right now, all you want is me.” He mused and he wasn’t wrong, because he never said I couldn’t leave. Yet, I found myself staying, and hoping he would change. “And all that completes me is you.”
I shut my eyes as he slammed his lips against mine.


Eden Montclair is your everyday surgeon who tries to get by every surgery without complications, she has created high hopes for herself that she would inherit her grandmother’s hospital.
She soon finds out that the hospital was dying and they might need to merger it with the biggest healthcare foundation in the country, only on the condition that her little sister, Evangeline marries the heir to the foundation.
Eden’s life soon falls into chaos when Evangeline ran away to avoid that fate, and now Eden is in the front line to marry the Heir of the Adler Foundation.
Theron Adler.
A cold-blooded and precise surgeon, who doesn’t have many interests in life, and a diagnosed psychopath.
That’s not all, he is also the elder brother of her ex-boyfriend and they both had history together.

AN AGE GAP, FORCED PROXIMITY, BLACK FLAG ROMANCE

Vincenzo Valentini is a man who sees the world as a business counter and human beings as merchandise.

The owner of an empire built upon corpses and submission, he is the reflection of pure perversity.

When fate places Andrew Thompson, the son of his greatest rival, into his hands, the plan was simple: use him, break him, and discard him like a toy that has lost its appeal.

What Vincenzo did not expect was that, beneath the youthful skin and the appearance of innocence, Andrew hid the same abyss as he did.

Vincenzo never wanted redemption. He never wanted someone to save him from his own darkness. He was seeking a mirror. And in Andrew, he found the partner who, upon seeing his blood-stained hands, does not recoil in terror, but trembles with desire.

In this perverse game, the "little toy" proves to be the perfect executioner. The mafia leader found someone who not only accepts his cruel side but cultivates it, feeding the monster Vincenzo has always been.

Where there should have been fear, lust emerged. Where there should have been hatred, a perverse loyalty was born. Andrew Thompson is the dark reflection of Vincenzo, the soldier the underworld did not see coming, and the man who proved that, for some, paradise only makes sense if it is in the middle of chaos.

Vincenzo opened the doors to his empire, but Andrew was the only one capable of invading his heart.

They are not heroes. They are hell on earth.

Dema never expected her new job to end with a marriage proposal from her billionaire CEO.
But with the tabloids destroying his family's reputation, Rami needs a wife—fast.
One year, a quiet divorce, four million dollars. That's the deal.
Thrown into a world of luxury, scrutiny, and impossible expectations, Dema struggles to keep up while Rami treats their marriage like another business arrangement. Yet beneath his cold rules and perfect composure, something unspoken flickers between them.
Just when Dema begins to wonder if their pretend marriage is becoming something real, she overhears a late-night phone call that makes her blood run cold.
Because maybe she wasn't chosen.
Maybe she was used.
And maybe the deal was never the real trap.

Tracy's life shatters the day her sister asks her to deliver a simple package.She never reaches her destination.Instead, she wakes up bound inside a van with ten other terrified women, on her way to be sold. But before she was taken, Tracy had a dream she can't forget. As her dying mother faded into darkness, she whispered one chilling warning:Never trust your father.Sold into the household of one of the country's most powerful billionaire families, Tracy is forced to work as a maid inside a mansion where every smile hides an agenda and every locked door conceals another secret. The family who bought her seems to know far more about her than they should—and the closer she gets to the truth, the more she realizes her kidnapping was never random.Caught between two enigmatic billionaire brothers, dangerous family secrets, and a conspiracy that reaches back to her mother's death, Tracy must uncover who betrayed her before she becomes the next victim.Because someone has been waiting for her all along.And if her mother's final warning is true, the most dangerous person in Tracy's life isn't inside the mansion...It's the man she's called Father her entire life.

"You are mine," he said, crossing tenderly his arm around my body. I was speechless, I tried to feign he had no power over me but my body betrayed me.
Tighten on his chest, I felt relieved and appeased, I just wanted to rest and never get out of the room, until I heard a voice coming from nowhere waking me up from this nightmare.

Yes, It was a nightmare. How could I take pleasure wrapped in this man's arm?
He was the son of the murderer of my parents.
Even if my heart was claiming him, I should remember I had no place for such a feeling.

I would struggle with my being to piss this sentiment aside.
They would pay.
His father for killing my parents, and him for being the son of this swine.
He had to pay for his father's sins.
My mind had to overpower the emotion I felt

Accidental Pups×Contract Marriage × Multiple Identity × Drama × Vengeance & Betrayal × One-Night Stand × Billionaire/CEO × Brave Heroine × True & Fake Heiress

Warning: This is a slow-burn romance. The love story develops gradually through trust, healing, family, and shared secrets.

“He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“I know.”

“Then why does he trust you?”

I don’t have an answer.

I only know that when I found little Cassian bound and abandoned, I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t know then that he was the son of Alistair Voss—the cold, powerful billionaire who trusted no one.

But Cassian trusted me.

And that changed everything.

When Alistair asks me to stay for his son, I refuse. Until he makes an even more shocking offer: marriage.

What begins as an arranged marriage slowly becomes something neither of us expected. Beneath the same roof, Cassian becomes the family I never knew I needed, while Alistair begins to see the woman behind my guarded heart.

But I didn’t return to Verona simply for a new life.

Five years ago, I lost my memory. My identity was stolen. Someone betrayed me, and someone wanted me gone.

Now the past is catching up with us.

And when it finally does, I may discover that Cassian chose me for a reason no one ever expected.

Some loves take time. Some truths take even longer to uncover.

"Sign it," he said. "Talia needs me in a way you never will."
Five years of marriage ended with a folder on the kitchen counter, one day after Olivia caught her husband with his first love in an unfinished hotel suite—and heard him blame her for walking in on it. It wasn't the papers that broke her. It was that he said it like a fact, and didn't even flinch when the pen trembled in her hand.
Olivia Winslow walked out with three suitcases and a phone that never rang. She'd given Damian Sterling five years of patience and silent devotion—traded for a woman who came back from Paris claiming to be dying, and never had to raise her voice to take it all.
What Damian didn't know: she left pregnant. Twins. His twins. And she never told him.
Five years later, he walks into a Milan exhibition hall as a favor to a friend—and finds his ex-wife standing beside two children with his exact eyes.
He has a fortune, a name, and a company built to get him anything he wants.
Only this time, there are two more heartbeats standing between them—and the second chance isn't his to ask for.

“Kaite, I hope you can give Lily and me your blessing.”

Terry held another girl’s hand in front of everyone, while I stood among the crowd like a complete stranger.

Three years ago, I was the one who stayed by his side when he was an unknown tennis player. I analyzed his matches, studied his opponents, and supported him through every setback.

I thought we would reach the top of the tennis world together.

But I never imagined that he would deny our past at his celebration party, turning me into everyone’s joke.

When both my love and my dream were taken away, I thought my life had reached its lowest point.

Until the man who once stood at the top of the tennis world appeared.

Percy—a tennis prodigy whose career was destroyed by rumors and betrayal.

He saw the truth hidden behind the numbers. He saw my hard work. He saw my worth.

When everyone wanted me gone from the tennis team, he was the one who stood beside me and said:

“Kaite, you don’t have to be afraid.”

To prove myself, I decided to stay.

I will show everyone that I am not just someone standing behind another person. I am a talented data analyst with my own place in the world of tennis.

And Percy is no longer the forgotten genius everyone abandoned.

But I don’t know why this man, who I just met, knows so much about me…

A year after losing her father, Hailey moves with her mother, Camille, to the small town of Ashton Hollow, a place where everyone knows everyone, rumors travel faster than truth, and the boys’ basketball team is the closest thing the town has to royalty. Hailey isn’t running toward a new life. She’s running from an old one. But basketball, the one thing her father gave her, refuses to let her go, and neither does the past she thought she’d left behind.
Determined to disappear until graduation, Hailey joins the boys’ basketball team and finds herself facing Tristan Hale, her childhood bully and the town’s golden basketball star. Their rivalry is explosive, but beneath Tristan’s arrogance lies a boy haunted by a brutal past of his own. As competition turns into trust and trust into a dangerous romance, Hailey finally begins to feel at home.
Then a student is attacked, and all evidence points directly at Hailey.
Suspended, isolated, and fighting to clear her name, Hailey uncovers secrets surrounding her new family, Tristan’s past, and the charming stepfather her mother trusts. Someone has been manipulating events from the shadow, and Hailey may be the final obstacle standing between them and everything they want.
With her future, family, love, and basketball career at stake, Hailey must discover who is behind the lies before the next move costs her everything.