3333 Book(s) Related to my dad is my best friend

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

WARNING: [R-18] STORY WITH EXPLICIT/MATURE CONTENT

When Daniel kissed Ara in front of many students because she accused him of being a thief, the man had a reason to have more opportunities with her. And that was when Daniel himself requested their Guidance Counselor to give him disciplinary action, to make him a student assistant in the library throughout the school year, for free.
Ara knew that Daniel meant it, and even though she was annoyed, she still couldn't avoid having this romantic feeling of excitement because the young man is very handsome.
The more you hate, the more you love. But Daniel diagnosed with a serious illness, and Ara knew she could do nothing but to let go.

"Shit! I want her under me."
Alex couldn't take it anymore. He moved her hand to touch Irene's thick, full lips until Irene woke up and opened her eyes. Somewhat surprised, he managed to control her. They teased each other with their gazes.

Alex Matthew was a boss of all kinds of big business, one of which was dangerous narcotics. The police struggled to catch him and hired a spy from a secret agent. She is a female spy with a good reputation. Irene is her name.
Irene uses her psychometric abilities to find out Alex's loopholes. However, for the first time, she fails and gets into a heated relationship with the dealer while Irene is married to a police detective.
Infidelity and psychometry become a demonic circle.
Will Irene be able to get out of the hot relationship and return to her husband? Or is it the other way around?

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.

All nobles mocked me for rejecting the talented common mage and picking a brutal gladiator with no magic as my escort. They called him a filthy hound unworthy of serving an Oberlin lady. But only I remember—this scarred man died twice for me in my past life. Reborn before my family’s ruin, I swear bloody vengeance on Cedric and Liliana, who poisoned my father and stripped my skin. I endure searing magic backlash, fight bloody death matches, and burn all traitors alive. The shadow they sneer at will become the indestructible shield of my reign.

The moment I saw my name on that wedding invitation, I was already dead.

On Highway 23, a steel rebar had pierced straight through my chest. I was two months pregnant.

I called my fiancé Michael seventeen times. The first sixteen, he hung up without a word. On the seventeenth, his voice dripped with impatience: "Marrying Sophia is just for show. Stop making a scene."

The man who once knelt outside my family's estate for three days and nights, swearing to love me for a lifetime—he wouldn't spare me a single second more.

With my last breath, I dialed the funeral home. "I'm calling... for myself."

Flames consumed my body. My soul drifted toward the engagement banquet that should have been mine. When the killer's phone lit up, the name on the screen was Sophia...

When he destroyed my entire family, he never once thought of me.

So now, let me watch with my own eyes as this wedding becomes their funeral.

I'm a figure skating prodigy from one of the wealthiest families in the country. I'm also an idiot.

I believed that if I was kind enough, people would be kind in return. So I sponsored Haley Dunning, a scholarship skater on our team, and treated her like my own little sister.

The day before the NCAA qualifier, she came up to me with a sports drink, said she wanted to help keep my energy up.

I drank it. Went down on the ice with a broken leg. Drug test came back positive for banned stimulants.

Overnight, I went from the queen of the rink to the face of a scandal no one could stop talking about.

Expelled from school. Torn apart on social media. Calloway Corporation's stock in freefall.

Haley stood in front of the cameras, tears in her eyes: "Piper just wanted to win so badly. I never thought she'd go this far..."

I fell into a depression. Couldn't sleep without medication.

Then one day, she showed up at my hospital room with my boyfriend, bearing "comfort": a cup of water and a few pills: "Piper, take your meds, okay? This is all my fault for being so stupid..."

Three minutes later, I'm coughing up blood, convulsing on the floor.

Right before I died, I caught the look on her face. That sweet, innocent face. A slow, vicious smile spreading across it.

She knocked over the pill bottle and started screaming: "I grabbed the wrong ones! I mixed up her antidepressants with some old person's heart meds! I'm so stupid!"

My boyfriend pulled her into his arms. Didn't even glance at me dying on the floor: "She meant well. Piper just had bad luck."

I was poisoned to death in that hospital room.

Then I opened my eyes, and it was the day before the qualifier.

While I bled to death locked in a storage room, my fiancé Adrian was holding my sister's hand, comforting her.

He hung up on my final call for help, leaving only a voicemail: "If anything happens to Lena, the engagement is off."

My sister once said her birthday wish had always been for me to disappear.

That night, her wish came true early.

But my soul never left.

I watched everyone gather around her, singing happy birthday.

As she blew out the candles, I whispered in her ear:

"Enjoy it while it lasts. This will be your last birthday."

I made 17 calls for help. My sister answered every one—and hung up.

For 48 hours, I lay dying in Pine Ridge Forest, texting desperate pleas to my family. They thought I ran away. The truth? My sister deleted every message while I begged for my life.

Three months dead. Zero funeral. My family didn't even notice I was gone.

Now the police have recovered my phone. Every deleted text. Every ignored call. Every lie my sister told to cover up what she did.

"Please. I can't feel my legs. I'm sorry I exist. Just don't let me die here."

They wanted me invisible. I gave them what they wanted.

Now they'll spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd answered when I called.

This story is about 23-year-old Lily Hills, waking up to the dead body of her one-night stand in a motel. The same man, Damien Kalashnikov, was to tie the knot the next morning, and Lily was slated to handle the magazine publishing the glamorous wedding events.

Lily who just wanted an adventurous night for once in her life, was now accused of murdering a ruthless Russian Mafia boss.

Just as all hope seems lost, Dimitri, Damien's identical twin brother and infamous "Beekeeper," saves her, he proposes a shocking solution: a contract marriage, with conditions for both parties to meet. The wedding, initially intended for Damien and his bride, will proceed as planned – with Lily as the new bride.

As Lily and Dimitri navigate their complicated relationship, he commissions her to write his biography. With each passing day, secrets unfold, and shocking truths surface. Their bond deepens, but danger lurks. With a surprise pregnancy raising stakes, it seemed Damien left a souvenir. A Russian Roulette began.

Albeit, a typical Russian will say to you: Когда река молчит, шепчет ли она секреты рыбам? (When the river's voice is silent, does it whisper secrets to the fish?)

Even in silence, hidden truths may be shared, and secrets can be revealed in unexpected ways.

Will Lily, wife to the Omertà Mafia Don ‘The Beekeeper’ eventually find out what happened that night?

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

My husband used our so-called "open marriage" as a shield, shamelessly bringing his mistress home.

He was dead sure I had a bottom line and would never cross it.

Until the night I stayed out until dawn, returning with the faint smell of alcohol.

The ever-arrogant man shattered a vase in a jealous rage. He gripped my wrist hard enough to bruise, demanding to know which hotel I’d been to and who I’d been with.

To punish my "betrayal," he officially moved his mistress in, turning a blind eye as she made my life a living hell.

Then, desperate to replace me completely, that woman rammed her car straight into me.

While I lay in the hospital bed, my husband used my father’s company as leverage, forcing me to sign a settlement to keep his mistress out of jail.

He shielded her as they walked away, completely unaware that just half an hour earlier in the ER, I had miscarried his child.

My heart turned to ash. I left the signed divorce papers and vanished.

Tearing the city apart to find me, he dug up the hotel security footage from the night I never came home—only to realize I had been completely innocent the entire time.

Then, he stumbled upon my hospital records, detailing the massive hemorrhage and the loss of our baby from the crash.

That arrogant, untouchable man finally realized the catastrophic mistake he had made.

After my husband died in a car accident, I spent five years living alone. I never remarried.
My family and friends urged me to move on. Even my therapist told me I shouldn't spend the rest of my life punishing myself. In my dreams, Adrian begged me again and again to stop blaming myself and let him go.
Eventually, I agreed to go on a blind date.
On the Easter that followed, I went to the cemetery to say a final goodbye to the past.
But just as I left the cemetery, a post on social media caught my eye.
"Happy fifth wedding anniversary! Thank you for the gift, darling!"
The photo showed a woman nestled in a man's arms, smiling blissfully as he kissed her forehead.
I would have recognized that face even from beyond the grave.
My blood ran cold. I nearly dropped my phone.
Following the address in the post, I made my way to an apartment building.
The moment the door opened, I froze.
The woman standing before me was Vanessa, my boyfriend's former secretary, whom he had fired five years ago for allegedly betraying the company.
Then I heard a voice from inside the apartment. A voice I had believed I would never hear again.

On college application day, my two childhood sweethearts, Blaise and Kieran, were completely bewitched by Mari. The manipulative girl talked them into abandoning their prestigious university spots to attend a small community college with her. I tried desperately to stop them, even contacting their parents to prevent them from ruining their futures.
Yet when Mari ended up dead months later, the blind boys blamed everything on me. They tricked me to the cliff and shoved me down brutally, making me pay for a crime I never committed.
Miraculously, I am reborn on this exact day. This time, I will not interfere. I will watch silently and let them bear the consequences of their own foolish choices.

"You have two months to live." The doctor's death sentence was still ringing in my ears when I found the receipt in his pocket.

[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]

3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.

I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.

"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.

I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.

I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.

My husband had been traveling a lot lately. Intuition told me he was cheating.
I kept quiet. For his birthday, I gifted him AirPods—secretly linked to my backup Apple ID.
At 10:00 p.m., his "Find My" location wasn't heading to the airport. It had stopped at a decade-abandoned lumber yard.
I floored it, obsessed with catching them in bed.
But when I arrived, I only found a corpse.

One hundred years married to Everett, and I've learned one thing: whenever he wants to push me into a corner, he throws the mate bond dissolution agreement in my face. Whenever my parents want me to cave, they hold the family name over my head.

They've always wanted the same thing — for me to hand over everything I have to my twin sister Rosalie, who's been sick her whole life.

I've fought it. I've grieved over it.

But when the doctor slid the diagnosis across the desk — Blood Depletion Syndrome, late stage, less than two weeks left — something in me just went quiet.

What's the point of fighting when you're already dead?

On the night of my college graduation, Sloane Callahan, the biological daughter my Mafia family had only recently brought home, asked me what I planned to do next.

Before I could answer, my four childhood friends spoke up one after another.

One by one, all four showed me documents proving they were moving to California.

Then Graham Whitmore, heir to one of Chicago's most powerful Mafia families, pushed my research agreement toward me.

"Come with us, Georgie. Once we're settled in California, I'll marry you."

I'd loved him for years. So I signed.

Two weeks later, I accidentally discovered another group chat projected onto the wall of the Callahan estate.

Did Georgiana sign?

Yeah. Four fake job offers were all it took to get her out of Chicago.

Once she's gone, Sloane can finally take her place.

Graham's making the biggest sacrifice. He has to pretend he wants to marry her until she leaves.

The truth was, none of them had ever planned to leave Chicago.

After Sloane returned, I'd already considered leaving the family. But the four of them had promised that nothing between us would change.

I'd believed them.

What they didn't know was that my professor had invited me to join a classified federal weapons research project, with no personal communication permitted during the closed research period.

In forty-eight hours, I'd be leaving Chicago.

They'd worked so hard to make room for Sloane.

Soon, they'd have all the room they wanted.

I loved Finley for two years.
Until 1:00 AM on a Tuesday, when his best friend, Orion, sent me a half-naked photo and a jarring voice note."
If I actually bag her, don't go flipping out on me. A deal's a deal."
I booked the first flight out to confront him, only to catch the boy I loved naked and thrusting into another woman.
But that wasn't even the part that broke me.
When my roommate bypassed the hockey team's private Discord server, I found a channel named: #locker-room-bets.
There was my boyfriend, typing the words that shattered my world: "She's boring... She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her... Play with her all you want."
My loyalty and two years of my life were nothing but a sick joke.
The entire hockey team had put money down on when I would willingly spread my legs for his best friend.

Once, I was the Golden Dragon Princess, loved by my family and cherished by the man I would have died for. Then one accusation shattered everything. My dragon core was sealed, and I was cast into the frozen abyss to repent for a crime I never committed. Three years later, I died alone beneath the endless snow—on the very day my fiancé was set to marry my sister, the one who framed me. He stared at my lifeless face, trembling. “Seraphina… please wake up.”

During the SATs, someone in the exam room went completely mad, screaming about a freezing apocalypse and ghouls eating everyone in the world. Everyone laughed at him, but I was the only one frozen in shock.
Because the pendant on my chest, which could warn me of danger, was emitting an unprecedented, blazing alarm...

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.

"Stay in the apartment," he said, straightening his tie as I fixed his collar. "I'll be back tonight." Then he walked out the door — straight to his wedding. What he didn't know was that my flight was already booked.
For three years I was his canary: locked in a penthouse, the only woman he let close when he bled, forgotten the moment another woman entered the room. I watched him let her wipe the blood from his face. I lost our child alone on a cold floor. I apologized to the woman who destroyed my mother's watch.
I was done waiting.
When the bells of Saint Patrick's rang out across Manhattan, he was welcoming his bride — and I finally flew out of my cage.

"I need to bear my sworn brother a child first."

At our engagement ceremony, my wife took her sworn brother's hand.

"Brother has been so good to me—he even sacrificed his fertility to protect me. This is my way of repaying him."

So they made me wait three years.

When those three years ended, they still thought I'd be the same as before—obeying their every command like a loyal dog.

What she didn't know was this:

I am the Supreme Wolf King.

Everything her family possessed—I gave it to them.

Now, I'm taking it all back.

[WARNING 18+]
This book contains descriptive intimate and violent scenes. There could be triggering content like self-harm, drug addiction, and depression.
[TROPES]
Billionaire. Revenge. Second Chance. Escape while pregnant.

When Mellow Fanning married Zeath Lupin, the cold chairman of Lupin Group, she thought their love was forever. But everything crumbled when he introduced his pregnant mistress at a family dinner.
Angry, Mellow sought to make Zeath restless by kidnapping the mistress. However, that resulted in a tragedy that nearly claimed her life and that of the child growing inside her—a child Zeath didn’t deserve.
She faked her death and ran away, bound to return as Zeath’s only means to remain as the chairman of Lupin Group.
Would he recognize her? Would she accept his apology if he ever gave one? And what would happen when the threat she once fled from rekindled, endangering her and her child’s lives once more?











“Do you know how much I wished you wouldn’t come near me, or even... touch me?” Zeath drones on. “All those cuddles and kisses, all the affection, made my skin crawl—like a troll embracing its victim before gobbling them. One can only imagine how much it stinks. You are no different from that troll. You merely caught my attention because you were a self-absorbed twonk, and we needed to test if you even had the heart to love another.”
“We?” I croak out.
Then Zeath’s fingers trail gently along my face, his eyes glinting with pure poison, and his voice is no better.
“Poor Mellow, it is all a dare, a gratifying one. Divorce or not, it’s your choice.”

Kaitlyn Randall wakes up late and the first thing she does is leave her place, almost throwing her cold coffee on a cop car nearby with a handsome officer inside.

To say the least, her day isn't going very well except for the eye candy. Especially when she shows up to work extremely late and has to clear out her desk.

When she finds out later that her estranged father left her millions of dollars, she decides to go to Europe and take a well-earned vacation after quickly buying a house.

Once she is there, she realizes that it was all an elaborate scheme

and now she is stuck in Europe by herself, without a single dollar to her name.

Will a tall, dark and handsome stranger come to her rescue?

Or more importantly, what will he want in exchange?

See what this rich stranger has in store for her in A Day To Remember.

I thought the scariest thing in school was the jock who harassed me. But then he vanished without a trace, and everyone blamed me.

There is no strong evidence to lock me away, so I walk the school hallways trapped in a living hell. The police watch my every move, the town hates me, and my adoptive parents treat me like an unwanted curse in their home.

Desperate to clear my name, I didn't realize the real danger was living right next door.

Xavi Moreau is the quiet, haunting boy who looks right through me. He doesn't live with his family; he lives alone in his own place. To the world, he is a handsome party guy who drinks, smiles, and blends into the crowd.

But I noticed the truth. His smiles are fake. His laughter never reaches his cold eyes. He is just copying the emotions of others to hide a dark, hollow soul.

When he notices my stares, his obsession shifts entirely to me.

Every single time he approaches me, I push him away. I deny him. I fight his terrifying presence with every ounce of strength I have left. But Xavi doesn't back down. He offers me the one thing I desperately need: a promise to find the truth and clear my name.

I wanted to find a killer to save myself, but the killer has already found me, and he has no intention of letting me go.

Eight years ago, I was the heir to a powerful dynasty—the man set to inherit an empire.

On the way home from a business deal, our convoy was ambushed and I was taken. My fiancée arrived with the ransom, and the kidnappers gave her a choice: save one man. She saved my closest friend—and left me bleeding in the ruins.

They thought I was dead. They went on camera, announced my “tragic death,” took my company, split my legacy, and lived on my name for eight long years.

But I didn’t die. A gray-zone mercenary unit pulled me out of a pile of bodies. I changed my name and climbed from the bottom of their world—training, bleeding, killing, leading—until I became one of their commanders.

Today, my fiancée is marrying my best friend. The invitation arrived with my name on it. I board a first-class flight under a new identity and head straight for their wedding.

Halfway through the ceremony, the priest asks if anyone objects.

I stand up. “I object.”

I didn’t come back to give my blessing. I came back to collect.

"What is the ultimate favoritism your partner gives you?"
On the third day after the IVF procedure, I came across this trending question on a werewolf forum.
Just as I was about to scroll past, a highly upvoted answer pierced straight through my eyes.
"I'm newly pregnant with the Alpha's cub, so I can answer this question."
"The favoritism is this: even though I’m not his official mate, he lied to the one at home—claiming she’s infertile due to health issues—just so I could conceive."
"He said: 'A human body is like a broken vessel. Only a strong she-wolf like me deserves to carry his cubs.'"
In the photo, the ruby necklace that belonged exclusively to me was hanging around her neck.
Trembling, I finished reading every word.
So this was his idea of a beautiful future—sowing his seeds in his lieutenant's bed.
So the agony of egg retrieval I endured was, in his eyes, nothing but the useless struggle of a broken vessel.
I laughed until tears fell.
Back then, I defied my father and even cut ties with my family just to marry this stray wolf.
"Ella, sooner or later, you’ll come crying back, begging for our forgiveness."
Now, it turns out I really have failed.
I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and dialed the number I’d blocked five years ago.
"In three days, I will return to the Hunters' Legion."

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

"T-The voices, Alpha. The v-voices instructed me to do it," she responded. I could sense the bewilderment radiating off him and those around us without needing to look. What on earth is she saying?

"What do you mean, what voices?" he pressed her.

"T-The tiny voices, Alpha. They won't stop urging me to k-kill Saint," she said before collapsing forward, slipping into unconsciousness.


Alpha Jackson lost his mate once and now raises his six-year-old son while leading the New Moon Pack. He never planned to love again, until fate gives him another mate.

Saint leaves his old pack to escape being the weak omega and become a warrior. Finding his fated mate should be a blessing.

Instead, it brings danger.

After Saint arrives, rogue attacks stop, but a child’s voice begins whispering in pack members’ minds, urging them to kill the Alpha’s mate. As wolves turn on Saint, suspicion flies around.

With a traitor, dark magic, and war closing in, Jackson must uncover the truth before he loses Saint too.

But what if the sweetest voice is the deadliest lie?

Are you single? Or married?

I’m single ma’am

Why would a beautiful girl like you be single?

Well, I’d say it’s because I have to work hard to fend for myself so I could meet up with my bills. So I really wouldn’t have time for relationships.

Well, I want to offer you a contract.

What contract ma’am?

I want you to get married to my son and produce heirs for my family, he’s the only child I have and I wouldn’t want our name to be dragged to the mud because of his refusal to get married.

I’m a dying woman, I’m battling with cancer and I have just one year left for me and I wouldn’t want him to be unmarried while I leave this earth.

I’m ready to pay you five hundred thousand dollars monthly (500,000 USD) for staying with my son and a million dollars when you produce an heir.

What?

Eight years after Lucan Altieri left Chicago, he finally came home as the new Don—and to get married.
That same day, I received my final verdict. After eight years of endless dialysis and a rejected kidney, my doctor took my mother aside and told her there was nothing left to try. All the hospital could do now was buy me a little more time.
Mom was helping me out of a cab and into my wheelchair when a black car pulled up next door. Lucan stepped out with his fiancée.
He stopped when he saw me. His gaze dropped to the wheelchair, and his mouth curled into a smirk.
"Well, Quinlan. Eight years, and this is what you're reduced to?"
I tugged my sleeve down over the bruised, ruined veins of my dialysis fistula. "I broke my leg on the ice."
He laughed and pulled his fiancée closer. "Perfect timing, then. I'm getting married. You should be a bridesmaid."
I smiled back at him. "I can't. I won't be here to see it."
Then I patted my mother's hand. Without a word, she turned my wheelchair and pushed me inside.

The day my husband Alaric drained fifty years of my starlight, the unformed child in my womb, stripped of the life force that sustained it, began tearing through me in a frenzy.
The priest knelt before the obsidian altar, begging. He said I was a rare starborn bloodline—that bearing a child was already a gamble with my life, and forcibly draining fifty years of starlight would cost me not only the baby, but my magic channels entirely.
Yet Alaric, standing over me as I lay chained to the altar in silver links, only spared me a cold glance.
"Ellara's wasting curse has struck. She needs these fifty years more than you do. Seraphina, you've always been strong—don't hide behind some pathetic jealousy."
He didn't know the starborn never lie.
As he took my starlight to save his childhood sweetheart, I lay alone on the cold stone, feeling my life drain away, letting blood soak through my gown.
So be it. As he wishes.
He didn't want this child, and I no longer wanted him.

“I’ve lived with that guilt every single day.”

Lila swallowed hard. Her world felt disoriented with memories of her sister, the lingering grief, the recent attacks all blended into a suffocating haze.

Beckett continued, quieter now. “I am twenty-six years old. Young and naive as a professor. And this campus...” He gave a hollow laugh. “It’s full of people who would love to get rid of me. Students who resent strict grading. Colleagues who think I got my position too early. Some who believe I’m arrogant. Some who simply don’t like me.”

His eyes sharpened, steady but tired. “So yes. Anyone could be the killer. And anyone could be trying to frame me. Or frame Damian. Or frame anyone close to this case.”

Lila’s heartbeat grew loud in her ears.

Her mind raced.

Damian said Beckett wasn’t the killer. Mara said Beckett was suspicious.
Mercer said Beckett was dangerous.

At Halden University, the murders follow a deadly rhythm, one red-haired girl every month, each found with a single rose placed in her hand, each killing more vicious than the last.

Lila Rowan arrives a year after her sister’s death, determined to uncover what the police can’t: the identity of the Rose Killer. But the deeper she digs, the more her world begins to tilt. Her sister’s voice slips into her dreams, repeating a warning Lila can’t ignore:

He’s charming. He’s handsome. And he never lets go.

Now every man around her feels like a threat.
The professor whose gaze lingers a heartbeat too long.
The best friend who is trying to protect her.
The other male students who claim to know her sister.

The roses keep appearing.
The bodies keep escalating. And someone is watching Lila, waiting for their moment to strike.

My name is Jonah Flint, and I sell fish at the Havana docks.
Five years have passed, and everyone still treats me like a dead dog that can still breathe.
Until I saw the wanted poster on the execution ground—red hair, green eyes, and a scar on his face.
My captain is going to be hanged.
I put down the fish knife and dug the trident out of the cellar.
Listen up, Caribbean Sea—the old monster that has been silent for five years is here to collect its debts.

Warning! Mature Contents!

Excerpt

"You belong to me, Sheila. I alone am capable of making you feel this way. Your moans and body belong to me. Your soul and your body are all mine!"


Alpha Killian Reid, the most dreaded Alpha in all of the North, wealthy, powerful and widely feared in the supernatural world, was the envy of all other packs. He was thought to have it all... power, fame, wealth and favor from the moon goddess, little was it known to his rivals that he has been under a curse, which has been kept a secret for so many years, and only the one with the gift of the moon goddess can lift the curse.

Sheila, the daughter of Alpha Lucius who was an arch enemy to Killian, had grown up with so much hatred, detest and maltreatment from her father. She was the fated mate of Alpha Killian.

He refused to reject her, yet he loathed her and treated her poorly, because he was in love with another woman, Thea. But one of these two women was the cure to his curse, while the other was an enemy within. How would he find out? Let's find out in this heart-racing piece, filled with suspense, steamy romance and betrayal.

"If you don't lift that shirt in three seconds, Thorne, I'll rip it off you myself."

The deep, gravelly voice sent a shock of pure terror straight to my core.

Atlas Vanderbilt. The Alpha King of Northbridge Academy. He looked like a dark, jagged cliffside, and for three years, he had made my life a living hell. Everyone thought I was Jace Thorne, the pathetic, weak boy on the hockey team. Nobody knew I was wearing a tight compression binder to hide my breasts.

Now, we were locked in our dorm room. And he was in his rut.

His skin was flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat dripped down his sprawling tattoos. The room was suffocating with the heavy, intoxicating scent of burnt cedar and dark spices. He was trembling violently, his wolf fighting to take over.

"You smell... weird," he growled, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in, sniffing the air near my neck.

My blood ran cold.

"You smell like an Omega in heat," he whispered. "Sweet. Like vanilla and panic. Why the hell do you smell like a girl, Thorne?"

Before I could run, his massive hands grabbed my waist. He pulled me down hard, pinning both of my wrists above my head with just one of his hands. His scorching hot body hovered directly over me. I was completely trapped.

He buried his face deep into the crook of my neck, inhaling sharply. His icy blue eyes turned completely black with raw desire.

"You don't act like a boy," Atlas whispered, his rough thumb tracing my bottom lip as his massive chest pressed against my hidden curves. "And you definitely don't feel like one."

“I, Alpha Kai Blackwood, reject you, Elias Thorne, as my mate.”

The words tore through the silent crowd like a blade. I stood there, the unwanted, wolf-less omega, watching the man I loved choose a perfect, blonde she-wolf over me. Just the night before, he had pinned me against the wall, his voice rough with desire, whispering that he would keep me. He lied.

Humiliation burned my skin as I ran into the snowy woods, vowing never to return. I thought the pain of the broken bond would kill me. But a month later, living among humans, a healer’s words shattered my world: “You are pregnant, Elias.”

Impossible. Male omegas don’t carry pups. Unless... unless the legends of the White Wolf were true.

I returned to Silverfang not for him, but for answers. But the moment I stepped through the door, my scent hit him. Kai stormed into the room, his amber eyes blazing with a mix of fury and something darker. He cornered me, his hand hovering over my flat stomach.

“Why did you come back?” he growled, trapping me.
I looked him dead in the eye. “Because I’m pregnant, Kai. And it’s yours.”

The room went dead silent. His father, the Alpha, stepped forward with a sneer. “Lies! A male cannot—”
“Touch him,” Kai snarled, his voice vibrating with lethal Alpha power, “and I will rip your throat out.”

Rashel, an overly supportive wife and Luna to Alpha Seth, who helped her husband build his pack to become the envy of all, thought her life was finally about to take the best turn she had always hoped for. But nothing prepared her for the fall from grace to grass fate had for her.

It is tradition that any Alpha without an heir at age 35 would lose his pack to the next best contender. And in this case, Alpha Seth's younger brother, who was an arch enemy, was the next best available contender, and he was willing to do just anything to make sure his brother, Seth, lost the pack to him.

Disgraced and forced out of her pack after her husband found out he had a second fated mate, Rashel left with the one thing Seth needed to retain his pack – Her pregnancy.

She was given a second fated mate, who turned out to be the Alpha King, Jethro. The one man who held the entire werewolf nation in his palm.

Rashel thought that life had given her and her baby a second chance, since Alpha Jethro loved her to the moon and back. But what she didn't know was that her misery had only just begun, because not only did Seth regret letting her go, but now he desperately needed her and his child—the heir to his pack—back in his life. But this would be over Alpha Jethro's dead body.

Rashel is caught in the middle of an impending war between the man she once loved and the man with whom she gradually built a new life.

Now, she has to find out where her heart truly lies and whom she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

The night I discovered Leander Vekaris was a monster, he discovered I was his mate.

I should have died that night.

I saw the city’s most powerful billionaire rip a man apart with his bare hands.

I saw the blood and the monster hiding beneath the perfect suits and cold grey eyes.

And he saw me.

For one terrifying moment, I thought he would kill me to protect his secret.

Instead, he let me live.

That was my first mistake.

My second was believing I could stay away from him.

Leander Vekaris is a ruthless mafia king who takes whatever he wants. He doesn't believe in mercy, love, or weakness.

Especially not in a fragile human like me.

But something about me makes the monster inside him lose control. He says my scent drives him insane and my blood calls to his wolf.

And when he finally corners me, his words leave me colder than any threat ever could.

“You're my mate, Lila.”

I don't want him. I hate him. I should be terrified of the way he watches me, the way his hands tighten whenever another man gets too close, the way his voice drops whenever he tells me I belong to him.

But hatred becomes harder to hold onto when the monster starts protecting me and tearing apart anyone who tries to hurt me.

He swore to kill his mate.
She was convinced she’d never have one.
For twenty-one years, Ximena Blackthorn has lived as the disgrace of her pack.
Born to an Alpha and Luna without a wolf, she's treated as lower than a servant—beaten, ignored, and reminded every day that she should never have been born. Without a wolf, she believes she is beyond the reach of the mate bond.
Then the impossible happens. The moment the Supreme Alpha touches her, the mate bond awakens.
There is only one problem.
Damon has spent centuries believing that a mate is nothing more than a weakness. He made a promise long before Ximena was born: if fate ever gave him a mate, he would kill her with his own hands.
So instead of claiming her...
He hunts her.
But the more Damon tries to destroy the bond, the more his own wolf rebels against him. And when ancient powers begin awakening inside Ximena—powers that should have remained buried forever—everyone begins hunting the woman the Supreme Alpha swore to kill.
Because Ximena isn't just the Supreme Alpha's mate.
She is the one person who was never meant to return. And when the power sleeping inside her finally awakens...
Damon may discover that fate has given him something far more dangerous than a mate. It has brought back an ancient curse. And some curses don't end with death…
They begin with it.

I’m the only person on Earth with a clinically proven antibody capable of neutralizing this rare deadly virus.
I caught the virus when I was six. Its mortality rate was staggeringly high, and everyone thought I’d never pull through. Against all odds, I recovered entirely on my own. By some strange twist of biology, my body made the world’s sole antibody that could fight this virus off.
Once I turned eighteen, I signed up to donate my serum as a volunteer.
For twenty years straight, rain or shine, I showed up to donate free of charge—107 separate donations in total. Each time, I pulled a gravely ill patient back from death’s brink.
I’m no saint living to save the whole world. Every last donation was done for my mother.
Back when I was six, my father’s infidelity drove my mother to take her own life. What happened was cruel beyond measure, completely unforgivable.
A fortune-teller once told me my mom’s lingering resentment ran far too deep. To free her trapped, wandering soul for good, a blood relative of hers had to finish exactly 108 acts of good deeds.
Twenty years in, only one deed remained. Just one more, and my mother’s spirit could finally rest in peace.
But when the hospital sent out an urgent emergency SOS this time around, I did something I’d never done in two decades.
I turned their request down flat.

For six years, my mother Isolde believed I had committed an unforgivable sin. Under the guise of "reforming my character," she continuously injected me with neurotoxic antibiotics, confining me to a wheelchair to act as a crippled companion to my sister, Alondra.
My entire family silently condoned this punishment, favoring my sister who was merely faking her paralysis. I had long since surrendered all my dignity, numbly enduring every injustice.
On my nineteenth birthday, I humbly begged her to stop the injections for just one day. I didn't want to look pathetic in front of my childhood sweetheart, Joren.
Moments later, I uncovered the cruel truth on the balcony: my sister’s legs had healed long ago. Six years of agony had been nothing but a staged performance.
The long-accumulated drug toxicity suddenly erupted inside my body. I tumbled to the floor together with my wheelchair. Summoning the last ounce of my strength, I managed to reach a bottle of pills meant to alleviate the toxicity.
As my consciousness faded, a faint, hopeless wish lingered in my heart: I thought that if I just fell asleep, I might regain feeling in my legs when I woke up.
When I opened my eyes again, I realized with horror—I was already dead.

"You have no house to go to, no money, no friends and no child to drain me of child support. Don't be stubborn. You know you'll die without me, I'm your only family left." Once again that proud tone was sneered at me.

"I worry for you." Devon’s eyes glimmered waiting for me to go on my knees and beg him.

I shake my head. "Worry about yourself Devon. Do you really think you'd go scott free after the shit you pulled today? You couldn't even let me mourn my baby in peace." I searched for his gaze, my eyes burrowing into his.

"I promise you, if not today, one-day Devon. I'll make you wish you were dead."


Corrie North gave Devon Remington everything.

Amazing sex? She gave him her body.

A devoted house-wife? She abandoned her career for him.

A fucking maid? She scrubbed every inch of his sprawling mansion.

A child? She nearly died bringing their son, Haven, into the world.

And how did he repay her?

Devon betrayed her.

He cheated with a younger woman, handed her divorce papers, and vanished on the day their son died in a mysterious accident.
Two months later, he finally showed up to Haven's funeral, with his pregnant mistress on his arm.
As if that wasn’t enough, he accused Corrie of murdering their child.

Devastated, Corrie vowed revenge. She vanished from Devon’s life, promising that everyone who played a part in Haven’s death would pay, including him.

Four years later she returns and Devon wants her back. He’ll do anything to make her his again.

But Corrie isn’t the same woman he left behind.
Will she make him pay for his betrayal , or will old flames pull her back into the arms of the man who destroyed her?

Mike Costa was supposed to be the sole heir to the Mafia, but he was betrayed and “abandoned” by his own brother Lucas in a yacht explosion, and everyone believed he was dead.
Five years later, he returns—cold-blooded, powerful, and unshakable. The entire underground world of New York is reshaped beneath him.
Just as Mike is about to settle everything once and for all, Lucas forces him into a political marriage with Chicago’s top family, using the secret of his true identity as leverage.
And when Mike first meets the woman at the top of that power hierarchy, she completely changes the rules of this marriage contract—this time, hunter and prey are no longer clearly defined.

I severed our Mate Bond with my own hands.

In that moment, I lay unconscious, bleeding under the silvery moonlight, while he knelt some distance away, clutching his chest as if he had been hollowed out.

Once, he shielded me from nine silver stakes, only to crown another woman; he placed my protective pendant around her neck, then cast me into a water prison. He professed, “I love only you,” yet stood outside my hospital room, nursing her child as if it were his own.

I loathed him, resolved to leave.

I believed this was the end.

Little did I know, as I thought I had finally gained my freedom, he would chase after the debts of blood and regret, intruding upon the new life I was rebuilding—

To redeem a love that no longer sought redemption.

That admissions season, Lily — a poor student who couldn't even clear the state university cutoff — insisted on dragging my two childhood friends off to the worst community college in the state, just so she wouldn't have to go alone.

Ethan held an offer from Yale. Ryan had been accepted to Stanford. Yet the two of them, as if under a spell, were ready to throw away those schools just to follow her.

I wore myself out trying to talk them down. All I got back was: You look down on Lily. You're just jealous.

Behind their backs, I contacted counselors, admissions offices, and their parents, and clawed their spots back one by one just before the deadline.

Lily went to that community college alone. Six months later, she jumped from the roof of her dorm.

Ethan and Ryan handled her funeral, then came back and tied me to the roof of a thirty-six-story building.

"If you hadn't stopped us from going with Lily, she never would have been bullied there."

"You're so capable, aren't you? Then go down and keep her company."

They pushed me over the edge without a flicker of hesitation.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at the start of college application season.

This time, I won't save them.