4110 Book(s) Related to my husband brought his mistress home

Elora, a young werewolf and daughter of the Beta of Darwin Pack, is forced into slavery together with her siblings when her father is betrayed and branded as a slaver by his own Alpha.

Her only goal is to find a way to clear her father's name and find a good home far away from their kingdom where her family could be together but a lot of enemies stand in her way.

Becoming the mistress of the Lycan king seemed a good way to get a step further in getting her revenge but it only exposed her to more dangerous enemies.

Rome, King of the Lycans, is heartbroken by the betrayal of his wife and is decidedly fed up with matters of the heart.

He is on a mission to ensure the new law he passed on slavery was being followed when he is bumped into by a female werewolf that steals his breath and commands his attention.

He finds out she's the daughter of a slaver and hopes to put distance between himself and the alluring woman but with the threat of losing his throne, he is forced to make her his mistress.

"I need you, my baby," he whispered as his tongue touched her naked breast.

Her toes curled up as a ticklish feeling transferred from her body and straight to her brain. Her mouth let out a sweet moan.

She has never felt this good before."I will make your pain go away for a while, bambino." He said as he kissed her face sticking his hand into her panties.

She screamed when she felt his hand inside of her, their eyes locked into each other before their lips met again.

This time, with much ferocity and want than the first kiss but the thrust in and out of her body caused her to stop kissing and grab hold of his shoulder.

"Do you feel better now?" He grunted out and she tried to nod her head.

"No Bambino, you have to be grateful by replying me with words." He said driving deeper into her.

She whimpered, shaking, her legs jelly like and immovable, she tried to make out words with her creamy lips. "I feel…Ahhh." He pinched her left breast and then held it.

"You feel much better now Bambino?" He whispered, sucking her ears now and she was lost. She wasn't in this world anymore.

"Answer me." He said as he pulled out of her and touched her face with his creamy fingers, he drew invisible lines on her rosy cheeks with his wet fingers and stuck his fingers into his mouth. "Hmmm, Bambino, you taste so good."


Amora's life turned topsy turvy down when the powerful and brutal cold billionaire of Venice walks into it. A man filled with a raw taste of need and affection and he offered her what she wanted most in her life. AFFECTION but it came with a price which will cost her a lot more than she would gain. Will she survive being in the billionaire's world or will she be consumed? This book is RATED 18+

Isla Monroe never meant to fall for anyone, especially not him.
Luciano Moretti is everything she should avoid: cold, powerful, untouchable. A man whose name is spoken in hushed tones across the city. The king of the underground. The devil in a suit. And now, her stepbrother.

What began as tension turned into temptation. A look held too long. A touch that lingered. A breath stolen in the dark. One wrong move was all it took, and suddenly Isla is caught in Luciano’s dangerous web, where morality has no meaning and desire is a deadly game.

He tells her she belongs to him.
She tells herself she should run.
But there’s something about the way he touches her like he owns her. The way his voice dips low when she disobeys. The way the world fades when he’s near.

Luciano’s world is ruthless. There are no second chances. No happy endings. And yet, Isla doesn’t pull away.

She should hate him. Fear him.
But instead, she aches for him.

Luciano was never supposed to care. He built his empire on ice, on blood, on silence. But Isla is fire, untamed, defiant, and dangerously pure. Her innocence taunts him. Her curves tempt him. Her lips are the only sin he’s never had the strength to resist.

He wants to protect her, but he can’t stop breaking her.
She wants to escape, but she keeps crawling back.

What they feel isn't healthy. It isn't safe. It isn’t love.
But it’s real. It’s raw. It’s consuming.

And it will ruin them both.

She's his weakness. He's her destruction.

One forbidden night changed everything.
And now, there’s no turning back.

Some lines, once crossed, were never meant to be redrawn.
And some obsessions?
But can she really overcome the burns of the underworld?

This is my third year as Gavin's mistress.
I bend over, seducing my sugar daddy.
"Mia, you're such a slut. We just fucked two days ago, and your pussy is already dripping wet."
His hot cock plunges into my body, the pleasure making my eyes roll back. I need more.
I'm addicted to being fucked by Gavin, it makes me forget he's about to marry my sister.
————
Gavin Adams is the future godfather of the Mafia. Mia can't escape his control.
Eva knocks outside while Gavin fucks Mia hard on the sofa.
Eva plans her wedding to Gavin while he slips a diamond ring onto Mia's finger.
Mia stares at this dangerous, intoxicating man.
Could he ever truly love a woman? Impossible.

I was only a week away from giving birth when my Alpha mate dragged me from our home—no, ripped me from safety—and forced me to care for her.
His precious Luna-to-be. The one who had just lost her baby.
“She’s in pain because of you,” he growled, his Alpha aura crashing down on me like a tidal wave. “You’ll atone for what you’ve done.”
Lucia, with her tear-soaked eyes and sugar-sweet lies, claimed I had poisoned her with silver. He didn’t even ask for the truth.
Instead, he had me stripped bare and thrown into the sacrificial chamber, where flames licked at my skin and the heat soared past 80 degrees Celsius.
“Purify your sins,” he whispered coldly, like a death sentence wrapped in frost.
And then—In that hellish blaze, I went into labor. Alone. I screamed. I begged. I clawed at the burning stone door until my nails bled, and my voice broke.
But no one came.

On our third anniversary, I gave my husband my pregnancy test results as a gift. What I got back was a photo—a man's hand on a woman's chest. The wedding ring on his finger told me everything I needed to know. He was my husband. And he was cheating.

I have a portal connecting my world to the apocalypse.

Three years ago, a girl stumbled out of it. She said she had fallen in love with me and wanted to be my wife.

But it wasn't until she charged back through that door with her real man and an army that I realized... these past three years had been nothing but a lie.

（There is a lot of sexual and stimulating content, minors are not allowed to read!!!）
After one wild night, she became the CEO's secret lover.
To pay off her debt and redeem herself, she signed a contract with the CEO.
They agreed it would be just physical—no emotions involved.
But in reality...
The little assistant was spoiled rotten by the CEO, who spent lavishly just to make her smile.
Yet she packed her bags and fled in the middle of the night, "If I don't run now, I'll die in that bed!"

In a world where bloodlines shape destinies, Florence Lancaster, a half-breed who has the blood of two exceptional people in her veins, is caught in a dangerous game. Abandoned and trained to be a tool, her life takes a perilous turn when a mission puts her on the most-wanted list of the Alpha King and the Werewolf Council.

Hunted and hiding her identity for years, she finds sanctuary within a pack until chaos strikes, forcing her into a bargain to save a life. The price? Six months as a werewolf's mistress, a twist she never saw coming.

Nicholas Gavner Acworth is a pureblooded Lycan who also was an Alpha King and an Alpha of Moonstone Pack—a pack of Lycans. Since his cousin died, he vowed to kill the person responsible for his death. But finding his mate who was not a Lycan and learning that she couldn't shift was not something he expected. He needed a strong woman to lead by his side and the perfect candidate was his betrothed. So, he makes a decision that alters their fate—making his mate his mistress.
........
She is strong-willed to escape.
He is adamant about keeping her.
She wanted to be loved.
He doesn't want to be in love.
Everyone wanted her,
Everyone fears him.
She belongs to him but he doesn't belong to her.

Mia’s husband never stops complaining about her curves. Too soft. Too heavy. Not attractive anymore.
Desperate to fix herself, she starts training at her brother-in-law’s gym. Jake is older, built, and looks at her the way her husband never does.
What begins as private sessions quickly turns filthy. He takes her innocence in the locked back room while she begs him to keep it secret.
She’s still married.
He’s still family.
And neither of them can stop.

Everyone said I’d traded five years of my youth and my unwavering devotion for an engagement that every woman envied.
My fiancé, Felix Smith, seemed to believe it, too. He gave me pearls, promised me a bright future, and wrapped me up in a web of tenderness, layer after layer.
Until that afternoon, when he held me close, yet used a language he thought I didn’t understand to weave the perfect "wedding" con over the phone.
That was the moment I finally realized: over these five years, who had he really been looking at through me? And every pearl he ever gave me, whose tastes was he remembering?
When the elevator failed and darkness crashed down, the person he protected on instinct wasn’t me.
When the wind howled across the empty outskirts, the person he chose to abandon was me.
I’d been learning how to love him, how to become a proper bride. In the end, what I learned was how to exit quietly, out of his world with Serena.

My father wanted to hand me over to Adrian Kingsley, the heir everyone in his Manhattan circle was desperate to please. I ran away with my boyfriend instead.
Then my boyfriend was injured in a hit-and-run. We had no money, and Adrian came to our rescue.
We were grateful. So when my father was diagnosed with a serious illness, I worked up the courage to ask Adrian for help again.
He took a drag on his cigarette and watched me through the smoke.
"Spend the night with me."

Amelia escaped her marriage three years ago but escaping her husband was the easy part. Staying hidden is harder. Using stolen identities and borrowed names, she moves from city to city, surviving quietly until one reckless night at an exclusive masked club changes everything. The man she steals from that night isn’t just rich but dangerous.

It is the worst mistake she has ever made.

Enzo doesn’t know her name, her face, or where she ran to but he remembers one detail about the mysterious thief who shared his bed— a small heart-shaped birthmark beneath her breast. When Amelia unknowingly walks into his office weeks later under another stolen identity, Enzo recognizes her instantly. Now the hunt becomes something far more dangerous than revenge because Amelia isn't just his thief but the wife of his stepbrother who he hates.

Both men want her and neither is ready to let her go.

Here is an adaptation crafted in the style of a bestselling contemporary Western psychological thriller or domestic drama hook, using fast-paced, high-tension American English:

For three years, I was the envy of Manhattan’s elite—the untouchable heiress with the flawless life.

My husband? The media constantly fawned over him, dubbing him "God’s gift to women" and the absolute epitome of a perfect gentleman.

Then came the video. The damn video that shattered it all.

Kneeling on the floor, wearing a thick leather collar like a pathetic stray, was the man I had loved deeply for years.

At the other end of the leash stood another woman, the stiletto of her red-soled Louboutin pressing ruthlessly into his cheek.

"Tell me, what are you?" she demanded.

"I'm Mistress Elena's dog," he whimpered. "I just want to get away from Sienna... I'm so sick of that suffocating bitch."

Every vow, every promise we ever made, instantly dissolved into a sick, twisted joke.

But instead of breaking down, I just smiled. And I hit save.

If he wanted to act like a dog so badly, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I was going to make sure he choked on that damn leash.

For five years, my husband claimed he could not understand emotion.

I believed him, excused every broken promise, and taught myself to survive on scraps of attention.

Then I went to his office with news of our unborn child and heard him laughing with the woman who had helped him deceive me.

He had married me for a pureblood heir. Once the baby was born, he planned to throw me away.

He wanted an heir from a devoted wife. Instead, I gave him a funeral.

My daughter Lily was shot dead while she was performing on her own stage.
I rushed forward to shield her, and a speaker crashed down onto my right shoulder. The bone shattered.
My husband, Vincent, “shot the gunman dead” at once and sealed off the entire opera house.
When I woke up in the hospital room, the pain almost suffocated me. My right shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and when I tried to raise my arm, all I felt was a numb.
“…This isn’t what we agreed on.” The doctor’s voice was low and unsteady. “We only needed her blood sample for matching. Why did it have to go this far?”
“Lily’s blood type is a perfect match. This is the best possible outcome,” Vincent said. “I married Elena for this moment. I’ve been waiting for it.”
The doctor was silent for a few seconds. “But she’s your daughter… There’s no need to sacrifice a life, even if she is a Salaceno.”
Vincent cut him off. “You know how long an artificial heart can last. Camila’s daughter won’t hold out for long. I can’t put her through another surgery.”
“Camila’s child is the one I should cherish.”
At that moment, my blood ran cold. In his eyes, my daughter was nothing but an organ container.
He had no idea. All that talk about protecting his precious daughter—she wasn't even his.

I was Ethan Blake's perfect mistress for five years, adhering faithfully to his rules of secrecy and obedience.

I knew his coffee preferences, his pre-meeting anxieties, yet it wasn't until his arranged-marriage partner returned that I understood I was merely a replaceable 'item' in his life plan.

When my mother passed and the pressure of medical bills vanished, I realized for the first time — that contract with its monthly transfers had bought not just my time, but my very right to say 'no' to him.

And now, when I no longer need his money...

This transaction, forged in the name of bondage, will be terminated by me.

Nine months pregnant and about to give birth, my husband Zane locked me in the wine cellar.
All because his widowed business partner, Elena, was also giving birth today.
"You almost made Elena go into labor early. You need to think about what you've done."
Agonizing contractions wracked my body. I dropped to my knees, begging him, "Zane, please─the baby is coming now! He will die!"
He just shoved me down the cold stone steps, his eyes icy cold.
"Stop lying! Your due date isn't today. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"
"Tonight, only Elena's safety matters. You'll stay here until you admit you were wrong!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, snuffing out the last bit of hope I had left.
Hours later, Zane was cradling Elena's newborn son, calling the maid.
"Elena had a boy. I couldn't be happier. Let my wife out—I'm willing to forgive her little tantrum today."
But on the other end of the phone, the maid was sobbing.
"Sir... your wife and the baby... they're already gone."

After being brought home by my biological parents, I thought I'd finally get the love I'd been missing.

But no matter what I did, they only blamed me for bullying my adopted sister. My husband would just look at me with disgust.

They thought I was cruel and evil. When my adopted sister was diagnosed with leukemia, they forced me to donate bone marrow to her.

I was forced to eat and exercise, gaining twenty pounds in half a month.

My adopted sister suddenly looked at me and said, "Sis, to tell you the truth, I don't have leukemia at all. I'm just playing with you. When you die on the operating table, I'll be with your husband."

I felt so sick I wanted to die.

But I couldn't die.

I had to survive.

I had to crawl out of this hell alive!

For three years, I lived across the country to raise our grandson while my husband stayed alone in Chicago—or so I believed.
Two days before Christmas, I came home early to surprise him. My key no longer fit the lock.
When Harold opened the door, he was wearing a silk robe I had never seen. Behind him stood another woman in house slippers. Her toothbrush was beside his. Her clothes were in my closet. And for two years, she had been sleeping in my bed.
Then I checked our bank account.
She hadn’t only taken my place.
Harold had been giving her my retirement, my home—and even my mother’s jewelry.

Ten years of secret service honed my Phantom Legion, a force I built that could make a small nation tremble. On the day I retired and returned to New York, I found a cardboard tent next to a garbage dump in a Bronx back alley. Curled up inside was my daughter, whom I hadn't seen in five years. She was covered in bruises, barefoot, and clutching half a moldy loaf of bread. I picked her up and dialed the phone—"I want everyone who wronged her to suffer a fate worse than death! "

I used to be the nation's top lock-picking expert. I saved countless lives.

But I couldn't save my own daughter.

At the dock, two children were strapped to bombs.

The girl had less time—I should've saved her first.

But my husband Damien held a knife to his throat, forcing me to save the other one first.

His illegitimate son.

I compromised.

The moment I opened the lock, the kidnapper ripped off the girl's hood.

I never expected her to be Rosie.

My five-year-old daughter.

She looked at me.

Her lips moved, forming the word "Mommy."

Then the explosion tore through everything...

Alexandra Moretti has not taken a single step down the aisle when the cathedral doors open behind her.
A nurse comes in with a newborn and a birth record. The mother is in surgery. The father, she says, is the groom.
Vincent DeLuca does not deny it. Neither does his family. They offer ten minutes in the priest's office and a simple arrangement: the boy will be provided for quietly, and Alexandra will still be Mrs. DeLuca.
They have misjudged her.
This was never a wedding. It was a merger, and Alexandra is the only person in the room who read every clause. She sets the ring on a pew, orders her security chief to recover the signed papers, and walks out of St. Patrick's before the ink is dry.
Her father does not stop her.
By tonight, the DeLucas will find out how much of their empire was only ever borrowed.

She sacrificed a brilliant career to be his secret wife. But on their anniversary, he gifted his precious first love a $15M piano, while tossing her a dog-eared cookbook. In that moment, seven years of silent devotion died. The countdown began.

For thirty days, she watched his other woman move in. For thirty days, she endured his neglect and cruelty. She let them believe they had won. All while quietly securing the world-class career she once walked away from.

When the clock struck zero, she boarded the flight without a look back. He was left holding the empty life she built, finally screaming a name he never truly valued—into a silence she no longer cared to hear.

My whole body began to quiver as I looked up at Ryan who wore a smug or was it? I couldn't tell as my vision was blurred with tears.

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?!.

"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"

"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired. It was as if I didn't want to believe what the paper read until Ryan says it with his own mouth.

A part of me still wanted to fight for whatever we still have left; still wanted to protect our marriage.

But then he'd said it. Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded," I want a divorce, Ciara"


Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.

Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.

But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.

What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

Find out in this long rollacoaster ride!

When my daughter was critically ill, my husband and son chose another woman—Ethan's first love.
I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.
"Mom, I've made up my mind. I'm coming home to inherit the family business."

Sabrina Parker used to fall deeply in love with a man named Simon; she did everything and anything for Simon and for her relationship with him as his wife; she sacrificed everything for him, yet what he gave in exchange was pain, tears, and nothing but all of his lies. That's why she decided to end her suffering by filing a divorce, yet Simon won't let her go unless Sabrina will do something for him at last, and that is where he already made a deal with her wife- no, her ex-wife, to be precise."Marry me again and be with me as my wife for two years.
After that, I will let you go completely, Sabrina."She knew she deserved a life free from Simon's deceit, but his demand forced her to confront her future head-on. That day, Sabrina her self needs to give an answer to her Ex-husband, as she stood at the crossroads of her life, Sabrina realized that the choice she made would determine whether she remained bound to her past or moved forward toward a future where she could reclaim her happiness and peace. Her decision would define her path, and she braced herself to confront whatever lay ahead.

I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed. The man I was forced to marry, the one who had vowed to love and cherish me, was caught in a passionate embrace with another woman.
The dressing room had become a secret place for the groom, my groom and his mistress.
I knew I was not supposed to feel anything because I do not love him, right? But why is it that it hurts? Because it hurts so much that I can't breathe.


Natalie Beckham gets forced to marry Tristan Detar by her parents so they could solidify their business that was barely standing, but when she finds out her husband is cheating on her with her sister who is not as innocent as she claims to be, what does she do?
With betrayals and manipulation placed in every step she takes, how does she deal with it?
Who stands by her and helps her face her challenges?

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

Three days after I died, the morgue called my husband Sebastian to collect my ashes.
He was kissing another woman when he hit speaker, his voice cold and dismissive: "She's dead? Cremate her. Don't call me again."
And just like that, my body was wheeled into the cremation chamber.
When he finally showed up to collect my remains, he smashed the urn on the floor and ground every fragment of my ashes into the tile with his shoe.
"Playing dead? What a pathetic stunt," he sneered. "Tell her the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up. She'd better show up at the cemetery on her knees, or even if she really is dead, I'll scatter her ashes in the sewer myself."
But he didn't know—I truly was dead.
My soul was bound to him, forced to drift at his side as he planned a lavish wedding with his adopted sister Claire—his mother's true killer.
By the time he discovered the truth and exposed Claire at the altar, I had already vanished.
He lost his mind, racing to the ocean to search for my ashes.
Never knowing that the remains he'd crushed like garbage under his shoe—the "fake ashes" he'd dismissed as part of my act—
Were all that was left of me.

My husband thinks a "tragic surgical accident" left me completely blind. Now, he's moved his mistress right into our house to be my nurse. They openly whisper about my life insurance while preparing my afternoon tea. They think a blind wife is the perfect prey. But are they sure I'm in the dark?

My husband's first love, Celine, lured me to a remote cabin under the guise of an "apology."
 
She then poured gasoline all over the porch and locked the door from the outside.
 
In my past life, the moment the fire began to spread, I desperately called my husband, Julian—a fire captain—for rescue.
 
He smashed the door open and saved me.
 
Ironically, Celine's scheme backfired, and she died of smoke inhalation outside.
 
Yet, Julian pinned her blood debt entirely on me.
 
He kept me at the hospital with his hypocritical comfort, only to tear off his disguise the day I was discharged. He tied me to a pillar in an abandoned warehouse and poured gasoline at my feet.
 
As the flames ignited, my ten-week-old unborn child and I were swallowed by the raging fire.
 
Julian's eyes were bloodshot. Facing my agonizing screams, his gaze held nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred:
 
"If you hadn't gone mad with jealousy and locked the door from the inside, Celine would never have died! Stop playing the victim!"
 
"The pain she suffered before she died... I'm going to make you pay for it ten times, a hundred times over!"
 
In the blazing light, he watched coldly as I was burned alive, turning into a charred corpse.
 
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment the fire started to spread.

"The Draganovs are moving on Celeste tonight. I'm taking her to the safe house. We'll do the claiming after this, Orla. I promise."
That's what my husband said the seventh time he chose Celeste over me.
Celeste. The girl he'd loved since before he had a wife to ignore.
The first time, she heard footsteps outside her window at two in the morning. Rafael sent his whole detail to sit on her house and left me at a meeting with two men who wanted our shipping routes and didn't like being told no. I came home with a bullet crease across my ribs. He apologized for a week.
The third time, someone tipped the cops on one of our warehouses and she got scared. He drove her upstate himself. I took a knife at the door because there was no one left standing in front of me.
By the sixth time, he didn't explain. He just texted the doctor to be ready for me and left.
He's a Don. When the guns come out, he walks away clean. I'm the one wearing his name where everyone can see it. The one they aim at first. Six scars say so.
Every time, he held my face after and promised. Founders' Day. In front of every family in the city. Once Celeste was safe. I believed him six times.
So when the seventh time came and he chose her again, my bags were already packed.
There won't be an eighth time he sends me out to die for her. Next time, there won't be a wife left for him to send.

For the tenth time, James Smith left me behind because of a call from his female student.
But it was as if I had become a different person—I no longer doubted that there was something ambiguous between James and his student.
Even on our wedding anniversary, when he abandoned me in the remote mountains for Sophia's sake, I bore no resentment.
Eventually, James began to sense something.
"Emily, you seem different," he said.
I shook my head with a smile.
Because I had simply made a different choice from the one in my past life.

On Employee Appreciation Day, every woman in the office got a $500 bouquet of roses. Every woman except me.

When I went to HR to ask why, I overheard the interns laughing in the breakroom.

"Julian spent Morgan's flower budget to buy Chloe a massive custom bouquet! Who cares if Morgan is the Creative Director? She's just a sad workaholic obsessed with the CEO."

What those interns—and that spoiled little mistress—didn't know was that Julian wasn't just my boss. He was my husband of seven years.

I was the secret genius working for pennies to build his multi-million-dollar agency. But since he wanted to treat me like trash to impress a 22-year-old, I decided to give him the ultimate divorce gift.

I packed up my winning pitch, walked out, and called his biggest, most lethal billionaire rival.

"I'm in," I told him. "Let's bankrupt my husband."

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?
"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"
"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired.
Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded,"I want a divorce, Ciara"
Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.
Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5 years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.
But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.
What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

Being a Cinderella, I was forced to marry a rich man who was crippled. But I was shocked when I met him. He made me realize that I deserved nothing but him. Now I don't care about his health situation. All I want is him by my side.
That's all, I felt when I fall in love with him slowly, desperately and hopelessly. Until on the honeymoon, I finally found out, my husband who loves me dearly , met his first love who supposed to be dead. Will he leave me for her?

Five years ago, Magnus Ashford shattered Vivienne Marlowe’s world, throwing her out with nothing but divorce papers on their anniversary. The love they once shared was destroyed by betrayal, and Vivienne vowed never to look back—especially with the secret she carried: their twin sons. Now, a renowned neurosurgeon, Vivienne has rebuilt her life, raising her children alone.

But fate has a way of forcing the past to resurface. Magnus’s beloved grandmother suffers a life-threatening stroke, and the only surgeon who can save her is none other than Vivienne. When their worlds collide once again, old wounds are reopened, and Magnus is determined to make things right.

"You have no idea how much I regret what I did," Magnus confesses, his voice thick with remorse. "But I swear, I'll do anything to make it right."

Vivienne meets his gaze, her heart heavy with a truth she's kept buried for too long. "Some things can never be fixed, Magnus."

But there’s one thing he doesn't know… their sons his sons are right under his nose. And Vivienne is about to make a choice that will change everything.

Will Magnus uncover the truth before it’s too late, or will his regrets be buried forever?

The moment the divorce papers were signed, I was finally free from three years of a loveless marriage. To celebrate, I drank myself into oblivion under the hazy lights of an exclusive club. Fueled by liquid courage, I stumbled into a private suite, pointed a trembling finger at the man radiating a lethal combination of restraint and danger, and rasped, “I want you.” He didn’t refuse. That night was a storm of tangled limbs and desperate heat, and he branded his mark on my very soul.

A month later, I stared at two pink lines on a pregnancy test. I fled to Florida, burying the truth and raising my beautiful twin daughters with a new fiancé who played the perfect father.

Five years later, I returned to New York, a queen ready to claim her corporate throne. But when I strode into the boardroom, I froze. The man with the power to veto my entire future, Ryan, was sitting at the head of the table. A knowing smirk played on his lips, coiling around me like a viper.

I tried to avoid his intense gaze, but unexpectedly, at a glittering gala, he caged me between the wall and the unyielding heat of his body. His breath was a scorch against the sensitive skin of my neck as his voice, a low, rough murmur full of raw possession, vibrated through me. “You sounded so exquisite that night… and now you’re telling me those children are his? Do you really think I’d believe that?”

Candice never imagined she would have to marry a man who had been to prison and was extremely poor, but when her father kidnapped her mother to avoid breaking a promise, she had no choice but to take her sister's place. However, the man she thought would be terrifying turned out to be kind and respectful, giving her a sense of security she never expected.

But when she discovers her husband's hidden identity, everything she thought she knew about him - and herself - is turned upside down.

On their wedding night, Candice's heart was pounding in her throat. As she closed her eyes, she felt a force wrap around her waist and she fell into his arms, only to be pushed onto the bed. Her mind went blank as she realized there was much more to her husband than met the eye. As she tentatively reached out her hand to hook around his neck, she whispered, "You're my husband, so it's okay to do anything to me... shall we start?"

Little did she know, this was only the beginning of a dangerous game of secrets and desire that would test the limits of her love and loyalty.

I thought the orchestrated assault was the most profound betrayal of my life. Then, from the shadows of the wine cellar, I heard my husband and his brothers toasting to their success.
"The slow-motion capture of her climax, paired with those broken whimpers... it was cinematic perfection."
"She played her part beautifully. After all, she’s just a Valenti."
I learned the devastating truth: my agony was their scripted entertainment. My husband. The director.
He married me to claim his inheritance.
He branded me to mark his property.
He caused my miscarriage in that dungeon, coldly calling it "tidying up loose ends."
But they overlooked one ancient law—the Moretti blood oath: should the Don betray his vows, everything becomes his wife's.
Now, I stand in the penthouse of his casino.
My fingers trace the scar on my shoulder—now transformed into a dagger.
"Darling, you celebrated the anniversary of your production. My gift to you is a lifetime behind bars."
Now, the final cut is mine.

My three-year-old daughter hides behind the sofa whenever I try to hold her now.

“Mommy is scary,” she whispers, clutching her stuffed bear like a shield.

I thought it was just a toddler’s overactive imagination.

Until I checked the camera feed in my own bedroom.

I watched a woman who looked exactly like me step out of the shadows of our antique mirror, slip into my husband’s bed, and kiss him.

Everyone says I’m crazy.
My husband, Adrien, is Ashmont College’s most esteemed professor—suave, composed, and highly logical. I, on the other hand, am an investigative journalist whose nerves are fried by looming deadlines and too much caffeine. Yet, I insist there’s a woman who shares my exact face, who crawls out of our bedroom mirror every night and slips into my husband’s bed.
Our security cameras always "happen" to glitch at the crucial moments. My son avoids me like I’m a monster, and my neighbors claim they cheerfully greeted "me" in the driveway a few days ago—even though I don't even own a vintage pink dress.
Adrien has started dropping phrases like "psych evaluation" and "sole custody." If I let this drag on any longer, he’s going to personally commit me to a psych ward.
So tonight, I lied about flying to Chicago. Instead, I’m hiding in my own study—waiting for that identical face to crawl out of the mirror one more time.

Five months after Arthur died in the line of duty, my stepmother-in-law, Martha, dragged me into a private clinic in Seattle and tried to force me to end my pregnancy.
The consent form had barely come off the printer when a tiny, milk-sweet voice exploded inside my head—
Mommy, run! Daddy isn't dead! They've got him locked up in a veterans' rehab center outside the city, and they're brainwashing him!
Last time, you believed that wicked grandma. I never got born, and when Daddy found out the truth, he lost his mind!
I tore the form in half right there and stormed off to the rehab center, belly first.
I had just reached the door of the assessment room when I heard a woman's voice inside—the counselor—holding Arthur's hand and murmuring, "Captain, let go of the past. We can start over."
I lifted my foot and kicked that solid-wood door as hard as I could.

Ninety-nine times.

I was sent to the punishment chamber ninety-nine times by my mafia don fiancé.

Each time, he watched through bulletproof glass with cold, detached eyes—watching me being deprived of sleep, injected with drugs, tortured until I was barely clinging to life.

"Elara, you're paying for what you did to the Mancuso family."

For the sake of sweet, innocent Yvette—his precious savior—he personally destroyed everything I had.

After the ninety-ninth time, the doctor handed me a critical condition notice. I stopped begging, signed the confession, and vanished completely with my broken body.

The result? When the truth finally came to light, the ruthless don went completely insane.

I’m in the final stages of stomach cancer. My son just passed away yesterday.
At his funeral, my ex-husband barged in, pointed at our son’s headstone, and accused me of doing anything for attention—even putting on a show like this.
He told me to get lost, to stay far away from the woman he really loves.
So I did exactly as he wanted.
I took my son’s ashes and disappeared into the endless sea.
But now, when I’m truly at death’s door, that same man who once hated me with everything he had is tearing the hospital apart, desperate to save me.
Don’t bother, Lucian.
If there’s a next life, let’s never meet again.

Seven years ago, I staged an affair to set him free, letting him believe I'd betrayed him for money. Now he's back—a celebrated music director, weeks away from his engagement—and I'm just the cleaning woman kneeling at his feet.
"You know this cleaning woman?" someone whispered.
"Seven years, and look how far you've fallen," he said, his voice cold as ice.
I kept my head down, tugging my sleeve over the needle marks the chemo had left behind.
He still thinks I cheated for the money.
He has no idea what it actually cost me to give him this life.

“Babe, I’ll punish you for fleeing from me without my permission.” Luke ripped my dress, sucking my breast while one of his hand rubbing it.

He pushed me against the wall, swallowing my gasp of surprise. My nails raked down his back, leaving trails.

"I hate you," I whispered against his mouth. "Luke, I hate you so much."

“Then hate me.” After saying that, he thrust into me. The comfortable feeling let both of us moan at the same time. “Good girl, Tara. Now promise me that you’ll never leave me.”

"No," I felt his breath against my neck, but my body couldn’t help but curve into his.

Hearing that, he began thrusting in and out repeatedly with all his strength. I was almost rendered speechless by him as he kept going until I was ready to climax.

“I... promise...” My words shattered.


Being kidnapped, Tara’s husband took the other woman and abandoned Tara. She heard him say, “I choose... As for Tara, do whatever you want.”

Tara gave up chasing her indifferent husband and opted for divorce. Now, she balanced her roles as the infamous hacker T, the medical genius Red Falcon, and the secret leader of a powerful organization.

But why does Luke still show up all the time after the divorce? Will she be able to hide her secret identity? What’s his sudden interest in her after all this time?