350 Book(s) Related to mysterious job called oda nobunaga chapter 27

A short contemporary domestic-drama romance. Clean to sweet. Happily ever after.

My husband's family slid the folder across the table — sign here, family helps family, it's just a signature.

What they didn't know: I had almost three million dollars in an account none of them could find. I silenced the alert before the number could glow.

They think we're the broke ones. For four years they've bled the kindest man I know dry, dressing every demand up as love and cashing it. So I let them keep believing it — and I built a wall they will never see.

They're about to find out what happens when you spend a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

And this time, I'm not the one who pays.

The folder slid across the table toward Hannah's husband. Sign here. Family helps family.

What the Whitfields never once thought to wonder was that the quiet daughter-in-law they'd spent four years bleeding had almost three million dollars they couldn't see.

She'd hidden it for one reason: to keep the only good man in that family from being turned into their wallet.

Now they wanted his signature. His house. His name on their debt.

They had spent a lifetime underestimating the quiet one.

They were about to learn what that costs.

In the sixth year of my life as a Scale-Stripper, I finally gathered the hundredth vial of Dragon Breath Essence.

I knelt before the altar, cradling the crystal bottle in both hands. The golden light swirling within it cast a warm glow across my scarred knuckles. Six years — six years of wandering the most dangerous battlefields of the Five Clans and the plague-ridden wastelands, using dragon breath to heal the wounded. For every person I saved, I had peeled away a living scale from my own flesh, baring the raw, bleeding meat beneath.

Seven scales left on my back.

Only seven.

But as long as it saved my brother Lucien, it was worth it.

Six years ago, during the Dragon Slaughter War, our parents had been assassinated by humans. An ancient curse had struck Lucien; his scales were crumbling away, day by day. He told me that only a hundred vials of Dragon Breath Essence could break the curse.

I held the crystal bottle out to him, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Lucien, a hundred vials. We finally have enough."

Lucien took the bottle and glanced at it.

Then he tossed it off the altar without a second thought.

I went rigid.

Lucien stood at the top of the altar.

"I was never cursed," he said.

My hands were still cupped in the shape of holding the bottle, all ten fingers suspended in midair.

"Our parents never died, either."

"The Dragon Slaughter War six years ago, I planned it. The only one left crippled, with broken wings, was you."

I'm an OB-GYN. On Valentine's Day, I pulled a ring out of a woman's vagina.

It turned out to be my husband's wedding ring.

An hour before, he'd texted me. Said he loved me. Said he was too busy with work to come home.

I wanted a divorce. Needed one. But then I found out—our marriage was never registered.

In his manor, I was nothing. Just a fake wife.

He grabbed me by the throat—right in front of his mistress. Called me "damaged goods." Said I'd spent a year in another man's house.

But that year, I went as a hostage in his place.

I ran. Made it to the cliff's edge, covered in blood. And the man who saved me? The mafia godfather who'd held me captive that whole year.

He looked at me. "Marry me."

Yes, I jumped from that rooftop. Wind screaming in my ears as I fell, thinking it might finally earn me one fucking tear from them. Instead, all I got was "she's so dramatic."
Now I'm staring at fifteen-year-old skin in the mirror. Downstairs, their fake voices call my name—identical to that "welcome home" afternoon three years ago.
Yvette rushes to hug me, sugar-sweet venom dripping from her lips: "Remember who the princess is." I give her the same plastic smile right back.
I hear the voice in my head crystal clear: This time, I'm not fighting for their love—I'm taking back the life that was always mine.

They paid me a fortune to authenticate a masterpiece. It took eight seconds to know it was a forgery — and eight more to understand I was the forgery they'd hired.

The brushwork was my great-grandmother's. The woman they let die in a county ward, calling herself a liar for daring to say the paintings were hers.

The Ashford name sits on three centuries of art, scholarship, and law. None of it is theirs. He stole her words. His wife stole her paintings. They built a dynasty on a woman they erased — and never learned her blood runs in me too.

I'm the lawyer they brought in to seal one more theft. I said no.

By the time they remember her name, they won't have one left to sign.

Travis Savage and I were a notorious public pair, bound together by nothing but hatred.

In the glittering, indulgent world of Chicago, he was an untouchable mafia king who ruled with absolute power, making and breaking rules on a whim. And I? I was the wife he loathed above all others in his criminal empire.

It all started when my parents lost their lives saving him, gunned down by his rivals. After their deaths, he kept me close as I grew up, and eventually, our marriage became what everyone expected. For a long time, he was my only anchor in this lonely world.

Once, he’d knelt before me and sworn to protect me for the rest of my life.

Now, he hated me.

He hated that I refused to sign the divorce papers, that I stood in the way of him running off with Renee Sutton — the orphan girl he claimed to have rescued off the streets.

He let her walk all over me and flaunt herself openly in front of me. To get back at them, I leaked their sordid secrets overnight across all of Chicago: their flirty messages, their hotel stays. Word spread through both the criminal underworld and high society alike, leaving the pair mocked and shunned by everyone.

Our marriage had rotted away years ago, worn thin by endless mutual resentment. It was stagnant, foul, and long dead.

Until three days ago.

A string of ambushes left Travis a hunted man. While swerving to avoid an oncoming truck, he was involved in a devastating car crash.

He lay unconscious in the ICU for three full days. When he woke, he claimed he’d forgotten every ounce of the nine years of hatred between us. In his mind, he was still nineteen — the age when he loved me with everything he had.

He Thought I'd Wait Forever. I Wore White for Someone Else.

Nora canceled the wedding venue on a Tuesday. The deposit was nonrefundable. She let it go.
Eight years she'd held that stretch of coast — the cliff, the white tent, the January date they circled and let slide every spring. She slid the ring off at the kitchen counter and dropped it in the drawer with the dead batteries and old takeout menus. It didn't feel like heartbreak. It felt like setting down something she'd carried too long.
Adrian would find out. Not tonight. He still thought her silence was a thing to be coaxed out of. He still thought she'd always be there.
She'd already decided she wouldn't. By the time he understood, she'd be on that coast in a white dress — and the man beside her wouldn't be him.

I suffered from a severe congenital heart defect.

And my mother, Jamie, had terminal bone cancer.

My family was not a happy one. It marked the third year since my father, Nelson, had openly and unapologetically betrayed their marriage.

That morning, my mother swallowed a handful of painkillers and forced herself to stand up from her wheelchair.

She asked her best friend, Zoey, who was also my attending physician, to forge a medical report.

Zoey trembled with anger, her tears dropping heavily onto the paper.

"Jamie, are you crazy? Your bones are being eaten away by cancer cells every single day. You're in so much pain you bang your head against the wall all night. Why would you fake a clean bill of health?"

"Do you think that bastard Nelson will change his mind and come back to you just because you pretend to be healthy?"

I thought I was the perfect wife and mother, until I heard my husband outside his office, laughing, calling me a "prison warden" and planning to use our daughter as cover while he ran off to Tuscany with his grad student.

Everything fell apart. Then my daughter, in front of everyone: "That's just our annoying nanny."

I tried to hold on to what was left of our family, but my daughter shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby, and my husband just checked his watch while I bled out on the floor.

They locked me in and left for Italy.

Alone in the hospital, they told me I'd lost the baby and had "memory damage."

Now they're back, expecting the same obedient wife.

She's gone.

And I'm done loving them.

On my twenty-second birthday, I cut my wrists and texted the undertaker I'd hired to collect my body.
My family was across town celebrating my sister— – the daughter they loved, believed, and chose every time. I expected to die alone before they remembered I existed.
Instead, the undertaker came running.
Elijah Hayes was supposed to bury me. He became the first person who asked me to stay. He took me to treatment, gave me the birthday I'd never had, and offered to be my family when my own had thrown me away.
By the time the Bennetts learned I was telling the truth, they were ready to give me everything.
They were simply too late.

I was "Ghost," the undefeated legend of the underground racing circuit. To uncover the truth behind the tragic fall that left my sister, Sylvia, in a coma, I disguised myself as a timid, pathetic scholarship student and infiltrated Spencer Academy—an elite world ruthlessly ruled by old-money families and the hockey dynasty.

I thought my petty revenge was flawless when I slashed a bully's tire with a razor blade hidden in my sleeve. But I was caught red-handed by the academy's most feared predator: Rowan King, the "Tyrant of the Ice."

He was Sylvia's rumored boyfriend. More importantly, he was the last person to see her that night.

With a single glance, he shattered my "good girl" facade. He knew my true identity as the street racer "Ghost," and he knew exactly why I had sneaked into his school.

I should have treated him as my prime suspect. But between his fiercely dominant advances and his reckless, deadly protection, he was making my heart race entirely out of control...

My husband Ronald's best friend Clyde died three months ago, and with his last breath, he made Ronald promise to take care of his pregnant widow, Jennifer. From that moment, Jennifer invaded our lives, and I was only four months pregnant at the time.

Then Jennifer got caught in a gang shootout. She needed an emergency blood transfusion, and she had this rare blood type—Rhnull. Turns out, I'm Rhnull too.

To save Jennifer and her baby, Ronald forced me to abort mine.

When I woke up in that hospital bed, legs wrapped in casts and burning like hell, everything came flooding back. This time, I wasn't the naive fool I'd been before.
Tyler, my brother Ryan, and that bitch Savannah—they destroyed me. Turned a gymnastics prodigy into a cripple.
Tyler had the nerve to grab my hand, begging me to forgive Savannah for ruining my legs. My brother chose outsiders over me, screaming about "family reputation."
Fuck their love. Fuck family.
This time around, I've got evidence of the $1.2 million they owe me. I know all their dirty secrets. Round two has started, and I'm done being their victim.
Those three bastards are going to pay back every damn cent they stole from me.

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 was six years old when Mom took my brother and me by the hand, leading us into a mansion that looked like a palace. She told us this was our new beginning, after all the hardships we'd been through. But no one warned me that this so-called better life would mean giving up everything I had.

My scholarships, my prom dress, even my Stanford acceptance letter—they all turned into bargaining chips just to keep my stepfather and his daughter Sienna happy. Then, the night before my wedding, they even asked my fiancé to "temporarily" give himself to her as well.

I've always been the one giving everything, pouring myself out until there's nothing left, yet I've never heard the words, "You're enough." If love means endless sacrifice, why am I never the one on the receiving end?

Maybe only when I vanish completely will they remember my name—for the first and last time.

I am Seraphine Marchwood. For five years, I gave every piece of myself to Alpha Veyron, convinced our mate bond was fated—until the night I accidentally overheard the truth.
He never wanted me as his mate. The entire proposed bond was nothing but a cover, a farce to hide his scandalous affair with Ophelia, the woman he actually loved. She was carrying his pup, and I was just the disposable, respectable shield to keep his reputation untarnished.
I ran that night, blind with grief and rage, until I crashed through the rotting beams of an old, rain-soaked ruin. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the taste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of his voice calling my name, too late.
When I woke up, I didn’t recognize him.
And for the first time since I’d known him, he looked terrified. The cold, unshakable Alpha who’d cast me aside without a second thought was panicking, desperate, scrambling to bring back the version of me that had loved him more than anything—even as a new, unforeseen path began to unfurl before me.

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

"My family's company went bankrupt, and my father was critically ill.

I dropped out of school and worked multiple jobs every day.

Debt collectors beat me and broke my ribs, but I couldn't afford painkillers.

Every penny I earned went to expensive medicine, all to save my father.

Until I saw my father, who should have been bedridden on oxygen, holding a champagne glass at a hotel banquet hall.

His words pierced through, ""Five years, the punishment she earned.""

The bankruptcy was fiction. The illness, theater.

All orchestrated because his stepdaughter suffered from depression, and I was her entertainment.

When the doctor finally spoke to me, ""Days. You have only days.""

I laughed.

The dying one had never been my father.

It had always been me."

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.

I put up with my husband's cheating because I needed money for my brother's medical bills.

Until I found the heart donor report he'd been hiding in his study for three months. 98% match. He'd signed it "postpone."

That night, fireworks filled the London sky, his mistress laughing in the background. Standing over my brother's body, I finally got it—he'd been killing my brother all along.

I ripped up his check, sold every piece of jewelry he'd ever given me, and threw the divorce papers in his face.

"Murderer"—that's all I said.

Three years later, I'm getting a standing ovation at the Golden Hall. He shows up in the snow, eyes red, begging for forgiveness.

I just smiled. "Charles, you died three years ago."

I donated a kidney to my adopted sister.

Seven days later, I lay on the cold hospital bed, listening to my fiancé and family laughing down the hall.

They were popping champagne to celebrate my adopted sister's discharge.

No one remembered I had just had surgery. No one remembered my nut allergy.

When someone handed me a plate of almonds, I smiled.

I shoved them into my mouth, handful after handful, and swallowed them down. Then I told them I was done fighting for their love.

My fiancé demanded I postpone our wedding. My brother beat me until I bled and locked me on the rooftop to die.

After being abandoned eighty-eight times, I finally learned how to love myself—by cutting everyone who failed me out of my life.

My daughter died on her seventh birthday.
I held her in the cold ward as her body slowly lost all warmth.
Meanwhile, her father—my husband Vincent—was on a mountain top with his mistress, making love to her all night long.
He said, "She’s just a child. There’ll be better ones sooner or later."
He said, "Camila, you’re the only one I love."
He has no idea that he’s killed the only soul in this world that loved him unconditionally.
After the divorce, I am no longer the meek Mrs. Lucchese who begged for his affection.
Funeral, scandal, a worthless bastard...
Everything I lost, I will make him pay for—with his entire family.

One drunken night. One baby. One Don who married me out of duty.

I was the family doctor, a nobody, when I got pregnant with Don Rafael Salvatore’s child. I thought if I stayed quiet, stayed good, and made myself useful, he would eventually love me and our daughter.

Seven years later, I’m still waiting.

Rafael never let Nina call him “Daddy.” When she was two, she said it by accident in public, and he made her walk home alone. She fell again and again, and he never looked back. When she was four, she slipped in the middle of an amusement park, and he dropped her hand. She was lost in the crowd for hours. She was found shaking in the bushes.

Still, my little girl kept hoping. Every time he tossed her a crumb, she held on to it like treasure.

Then Jasmine Hale, his first love, came home with her daughter, and everything changed. Suddenly Rafael had time. He smiled. He picked Nina up. He even gave her a teddy bear, which, I found out, Jasmine’s daughter had thrown away.

That night, Nina gave him three last chances.

He missed the first when he looked straight past her and chose another woman’s child. He missed the second when he skipped her parent-teacher night to play blocks with Jasmine’s daughter. And the third? He finally showed up, only to stand by while Nina’s class monitor title was handed to someone else.

So I signed the divorce papers, sent them off from the airport, and took our daughter far away.

At my engagement dinner, my fiancé asked me to sign the prenup that killed me once before.

Last time, Adrian smiled, kissed my hand, and promised I would never be alone again. Three weeks later, debt collectors came for money I had never borrowed, black veins crawled under my skin, and his dying mother walked out of hospice in pearls.

This time, I turned to the second page first.

My name was already printed there.

Beside it was a date that had not happened yet.

Under it was another bride’s name.

A woman declared dead twenty-three years ago.

My husband, Callum, had threatened me with divorce more times than I could count, always to guilt me into sacrificing myself for my sister, Sloane.

My parents did their part, too. Give Sloane the good stuff, they'd say, or get cut out of the will.

In the past, I would have cried and made a scene.

But the hundredth time Callum waved divorce in my face and ordered me to test drugs for my sister, I said yes.

I even went out of my way to be kind to Sloane. Everyone said I'd finally grown up.

None of them knew I was dying, or that none of it mattered to me anymore.

My aunt was terrified I'd end up with a human. So she arranged a marriage herself.

The groom? Kael Voss. Alpha heir to the most powerful pack on the East Coast.

I had a Moonstone Mate Necklace custom-made for the occasion. Global commission. A hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

The day I went to pick it up, it was snatched right out of my hands.

The woman who took it? Chloe Hart. Kael's so-called childhood best friend.

She looked me up and down like I was a stray dog that had wandered in off the street.

"A hundred and eighty grand? Sweetheart, you can't even afford the tax."

Then she told me to get on my knees. Right there, in front of the whole store. Scream three times, "I'm a worthless stray Omega and I know my place."

I didn't kneel.

I threw her own words right back in her face and put her on the floor with one kick.

That's when Kael walked in. My fiancé. The man I'd never met until that very moment.

And damn... he was gorgeous.

I'll be honest, I'm shallow. Always have been. That face hit every single thing on my list.

So I walked right up to him, gave him my sweetest smile, and said, "Hi. I'm Judy. Your fiancée."

My husband, Zachary, chose to save his sister-in-law right in front of the kidnappers.

The kidnapper pressed the gun to my temple and asked, "Choose your wife or your sister-in-law?"

Zachary didn't hesitate. "Let Valerie go," he said.

He actually chose to save his sister-in-law! In that moment, even the baby in my belly seemed to stop kicking.

Later, they locked me in the basement. Drugs to delay labor were pumped into my veins over and over. Zachary wanted to save the "firstborn son" status for his sister-in-law's child.

When warm blood finally soaked through my skirt, I dialed the number I knew by heart with shaking hands.

"Zachary," I whispered into the phone, "our child... can't wait any longer."

The seventh time my mate walked out on our daughter for a wolf cub, I finally stopped counting.

His dead Beta’s sister, Savannah, came home with a rescued cub named Duke. She said he’d die without her. She said her wolf was fading too. Damian believed every word.

So Duke tore up my daughter’s sketchbook for a bed, and Damian laughed. Duke chased six-year-old June down the stairs, and Damian arrived after the healers were done. Duke licked my mother’s bowl clean, and Damian told me to be gracious. A Luna should be.

I was gracious when he gave Savannah our bedroom. I was gracious when he took our mating portrait off the wall. I was gracious when I bled out in the healing wing and he told me I was young enough to take it.

He thinks I’m just sulking. That I’ll come around, because where else would a packless omega go?

He’s wrong. My crossing permit is approved. My ticket is booked. In five days, I’ll be nothing to him, and neither will my daughter.

My fiancé and I held twenty-one weddings. I put on my wedding dress twenty-one times, only to crawl out of pools of blood each time.

Car accidents. Shootings. Explosions. Fires.

Everyone said I was cursed, that I was bad luck for my husband.

I was the only fool who believed they were accidents.

Until the twenty-second time.

That day, covered in blood, I escaped from an ambush back to headquarters and heard him say coldly over the walkie-talkie, "She won't die. Save Valerie first."

It turned out all the accidents were personally arranged by him.

He didn't love me—he just owed my parents a debt he could never repay.

So he staged disaster after disaster to get out of marrying me.

At the twenty-second wedding, I didn't wait for him to cancel.

This time, I was the one who called it off.

I never imagined that the most humiliating secret of my life would be laid bare in a flimsy tent in the middle of nowhere.

Even less did I imagine that the person witnessing my unraveling would be Sebastian. He’s the CEO of a top-tier conglomerate, my direct boss, and, most damningly, my ex’s stepfather.

A freak accident left us stranded in the jungle late at night. Inside that cramped, suffocating tent, the air felt scorching, almost unbearable. Worst of all, in my rush to leave, I’d forgotten to bring the medication that suppresses my “craving disorder.”

When that sickening desire surged through me like a tidal wave, when his body heat pressed against my back through his shirt, I could only bite my lip hard, teetering on the edge of shame and instinct.

“Mr. Blackwood, please… stay away from me.”

I wanted a second round in bed with my mate. He turned me down. He said he was tired.

A moment later, I heard what he told his best friend.

"I don't know why, but Tilly's gotten so... dull. It's all duty and routine with her."

"She's only getting older and duller. Honestly? My wolf doesn't even stir around her anymore."

Then he went behind my back and found himself a young girl.

Fresh. Bright.

He thought he'd hidden it perfectly. But before he knew it, I was sliding a Severance Pact across the table.

"Here's the thing about getting older, Cass. It buys you money, time, and the nerve to play, and to lose."

On my due date, my mate Kael locked me in the Frost Vault.
House Veyron's Hatching Law was absolute: the first dragon egg to break shell inherits the entire Emberscale empire. My sister-in-law Celine and I were both due to deliver—our egg dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother Roman's posthumous egg hatched first, Kael made his choice.
"Roman and Celine's egg must break shell first. You owe them that!" He ignored my ruptured water, ignored the agony of the egg already pressing into my birth canal, and shoved me into that dungeon built from ancient ice-dragon bones.
Then they injected me with Frostbind Serum—an ice-magic drug that freezes the life-bond between a mother dragon and her egg. I curled up on the frozen floor carved with suppression runes, feeling my child's pulse fade beat by beat, and wept.
My baby, I'm so sorry... I can't even protect you...

Wait. I was this close to going full caveman on my incubus, and you're telling me the store sent the wrong one?

I'd bought an incubus online, hoping for one really good night with him.

But he said no. Every single time.

I racked my brain trying to tame him. Besides plotting to steamroll him into it, I'd even gone so far as to contact customer service.

The poor little chat rep just kept apologizing.

[I'm so, so sorry, hon! We checked, and we shipped you the wrong item. He's a Household-type incubus. He does NOT provide intimate services!]

[Please, please don't get any closer with him! Under the Supernatural Beings Welfare Act, incubi can't be forced into anything, and if one gets pushed to his breaking point, he can suddenly lose control and put your safety at risk!]

A cold sweat broke out down my back. I grabbed Kane's pillow and comforter and tossed them straight out of my bedroom.

I didn't expect him to do the opposite of what I'd figured. He came and knocked on my door...

Two years ago, a car crash took my sight. The day it finally came back, I couldn't wait to share the news with my husband, Grant.

But outside the door, I overheard Grant talking with his assistant, Owen.

"Mr. Holloway, Mrs. Holloway has been blind for two years. Just so you could be with your first love, you had Mr. Callahan wear your cologne and copy your voice, and lie beside her every night... Aren't you afraid the two of them will actually sleep together?"

Grant took a sip of his drink, his voice smug.

"Miles has the best self-control of anyone I know. Back when we were starting out, he stayed clear-headed even after somebody spiked his drink at a business dinner.

"Besides, since Nora lost her sight, she's had almost no interest in sex. She lives inside her own shame now."

Owen couldn't resist teasing him. "Honestly, I can't decide whether to pity Mrs. Holloway or wonder whether Miles even likes women. She's the most beautiful woman in our circle, and those two just talk and nothing ever happens. What a waste!"

"Then you take Miles's place next time and keep Nora entertained."

The laughter that followed grated in my ears.

I looked at Miles, sitting in the corner. Aloof, sparing with words, his profile clean and sharp. A man that fine, that striking, left to go to waste.

It really was a shame.

I dropped a small fortune online on an incubus.

The listing described him as handsome and aloof, with eight-pack abs and a lean, powerful waist.

Above all, it said he was capable.

That final point sealed it for me. I didn't think twice before paying.

But the moment my order went through, customer service messaged me.

Customer service: [Hi, are you there?]

Me: [Yes, what's up?]

Customer service: [About the incubus you just ordered... He's certainly good-looking, but his temperament is rather cold. He's also fully matured, so his stamina... might be a lot to handle. If you think that could be too much, I'd recommend cancelling so we can suggest a gentler model.]

Me: [Not necessary. Cold and capable is exactly my type.]

Once she read that, the agent sent back something that sounded strangely like a blessing.

Customer service: [Very well. He'll reach your home on schedule. Enjoy yourself!]

Several days later, a cool, impassive incubus with broad shoulders and a narrow waist knocked at my door.

I went stiff the second I saw him.

I'm eight months pregnant, throwing up so violently I can taste bile, three "miracles" growing inside me.

Until that night at their celebration dinner, when I leaned against the wall and heard laughter from inside the private room.

I could hear the amusement in my husband Frank's voice: "Let's up the bet—another million. I'm betting two boys, one girl."

His mistress Ava giggled: "You already know the results."

"Of course," he said casually. "They're my children. Of course I know."

Then I heard it.

They talked about my womb like I was some kind of breeding machine.

They clinked glasses, debating "whose eggs were worth more."

They were even betting on "which baby would come out first."

And there I was, outside the door, my swollen feet barely holding up my aching, stretched body.

Inside, they were laughing and celebrating.

Celebrating their perfect little surrogate, carrying my husband's babies with his mistress.

Right then, the nausea just... stopped.

I just felt cold.

And slowly, a plan started forming in my head.

I used to believe my husband was my hero. When Julian Miller’s empire was falling apart, I made a desperate choice to save him. I spent a night in the suite of his fiercest competitor, Arthur Vance. Julian called me his hero and said he trusted me.

But he was lying to me for five long years.

Everything changed in an instant. Watching our daughter hang from a broken roller coaster, Julian didn’t attempt to save her. Instead, he reached for his phone to call his mistress.

To him, she wasn’t a child in peril; she was just a chance to wipe out a 'mistake' and start fresh with someone who had been in our lives since the very beginning of our marriage.

Now, people see me as a heartbroken mother and an ashamed wife. Julian thinks he’s buried me under his web of lies and his influence. But he overlooked one crucial point: I have nothing more to lose, and I'm ready to settle a score.

With the one man Julian fears most by my side, I’m stepping back into the light. And by the time I’m through, he’ll understand that the woman he treated like a pawn is the very one who will bring his whole world crashing down.

Look, I'd heard the rumors: Skyward International's flight attendants? You never see 'em anywhere but the airport. Not once. Kinda spooky, but my coworker drops this smirk—"First time? You'll get it"—and I'm boarding Flight 6108, heart pounding.

This chief stewardess, Tiffany? Stunning. Locks eyes, buckles me in, perfume hits like a drug. Later, service cart rolls up. "Airsick? C'mon." Door shuts in the crew lounge. Boom—she's on her knees. "Relaxation service." Zipper down, wipes me clean, then swallows my cock whole. Balls-deep, tongue on my sack, cheeks sucking vacuum. "Big one," she whispers, eyes pleading like she needs my okay.

For eighteen years, no one had my trust the way Adrian Walker did.

Then, on the very night meant to honor my future, he pressed another woman"s hotel key into my hand and asked me to guard her reputation.

I offered him one last chance: meet me at the airport and pick the trip we had promised each other. Instead, he lied about a car accident, and I watched him wind a matching scarf around Sienna Brooks"s neck.

By the time Adrian realized I was truly gone, I had already picked a life in which love would never mean waiting in second place.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

“You were never meant for him,” his voice was a dark promise, his fingers tilting my chin up. “You were meant for me.”

Elara spent her entire life as a human outsider in a world ruled by supernatural beings. When she discovers that she is the fated mate of Rael, the ruthless and possessive heir to the supernatural elite, she is thrust into a dangerous world of power, blood, and betrayal. Bound to him by an unbreakable force, she struggles to resist the pull of their connection.
But Rael isn’t the only one who wants her.
There’s another—Kian, a rebel in the shadows, a man who stands against everything Rael represents. Mysterious, defiant, and fiercely protective, he offers her a different kind of freedom. A choice. A love that isn’t bound by fate but by desire.
With war brewing between the supernatural elite and the rebellion, Elara is caught between two powerful men—one who claims her by destiny and one who challenges her to defy it.
But in a world where love can be a weapon, and loyalty is a dangerous game, the real question isn’t who she will choose.
It’s whether she will survive long enough to make that choice.

Rosalie spent two years loving the man she thought was her fated mate.

On the night everything was supposed to begin, he rejected her, chose another woman, and watched as she was thrown into the Abyss to die.

But she survived.

Saved by the one man she never expected…his younger brother.

Now she is back with a marriage nobody can break, a wolf that refuses to awaken, and secrets powerful enough to shake an entire kingdom.

As betrayal turns into obsession, enemies close in, and an ancient prophecy begins to unfold, Rosalie must decide who she can trust before the truth destroys everyone she loves.

Because sometimes the greatest threat is not losing your mate…it is discovering you were never meant to belong to them in the first place.

When fate rewrites the bond, who will survive the consequences?

Wha..what do you..you wa..want?"

"You," he said with a lopsided grin only his eyes showed his true intentions as he placed his hands on her waist lifting her up onto the counter stepping in between her legs.

"You..you.can't," she stuttered.

"I am, I can and I will have you Lia. This I promise you," he said nuzzling her neck before claiming her lips stealing her breath.

"Ethan no," she said breathlessly pushing him away.

"Lia why do you keep pushing me away. You know you want this as much as I do. I know you feel the same way as I feel about you. Why are you fighting us!" He growled frustratedly.


"Don't lie to me," he growled saying each word slowly whilst pacing in front of the door.

"Ethan I."

"Don't," his voice boomed as he stopped looking at her angrily as she flinched. "Start speaking," he whispered.

PS DON'T OVERANALYSE THE STORY WHEN READING. IT IS AFTER ALL JUST MY MIND GOING CRAZY TO GIVE YO'LL A STORY ☺️.

Their worlds were never meant to clash, but through knowing each other their lives unraveled.

"Don't think about Malcolm because I am not him. I will treat you better, give you the desires of your heart, showered you with kisses that will make you weak at the knees, even go as far as giving you my heart, but just don't leave me," he said looking lost as he pulled her closer supporting her some more.

"No, no, not again," I murmured as my heart rate increased.

"Then this is what is going to happen. Tomorrow we are getting married I don't care if you have to be in bed for the ceremony but so be it. We are going to live together as man and wife, and I am going to f***k that idiot out of your system until I am the only one in your mind, until you long for only my touch.....

He thought the worst thing he had ever done was losing me.

He was wrong.

Six years ago, Pete Leadsilver had everything an Alpha could want. Power, a respected pack and a future already written for him.

Then he met me.

What began as a game became a mistake I would spend years trying to survive. When I told him I was carrying his child, Pete chose not to believe me. He rejected me, humiliated me, and allowed the people around him to make sure I understood that there was no place for me in his world.

So I disappeared.

I took the secret of my pregnancy with me and built a life far away from the Alpha who had broken me.

Six years later, Pete finds me again. Only this time, he isn't the man with all the power. His pack is dying, his people are running out of time, and I may be the only person capable of saving them.

But I'm no longer the woman Pete remembers. And beside me is a little boy who carries far too much of Pete's face to be a coincidence.

Our reunion should have been about a cure, but instead, it becomes the beginning of a war neither of us saw coming.

Because Pete's greatest danger isn't outside his pack.

It's inside his own family.

Old resentment turns into manipulation. Loyalty becomes betrayal. And the people Pete trusts begin hiding secrets that threaten to destroy everything he's built.

Then someone comes for the people I love.

Suddenly, this is no longer about whether Pete can earn my forgiveness.

It's about whether he can keep me alive.

Whether he can protect the son he never knew existed.

Whether he can uncover the truth before the people closest to him destroy everything he has finally learned to value.

Along the way, we'll lose people we thought would always stand beside us, I'll be forced to confront wounds I've spent six years trying to bury, and the family we're slowly building will be tested in ways neither of us could have imagined.

Because sometimes love isn't the hardest thing to find. Sometimes it's the hardest thing to survive.

Pete once believed power meant never needing anyone and I once believed surviving him meant leaving him behind.

We were both wrong.

Because some bonds refuse to die, some betrayals cut deeper than rejection and some people don't come back into your life to give you a second chance.

They come back to show you exactly what you almost lost.

Pete Leadsilver lost me once.

This time, he'll have to fight to keep the family he never knew he needed.

Stepping out of the car he stood in front of her looking down at her angry little face.

"How dare you disgrace me in such a manner. Where do you think you are going with her?" She spat.

"Woman step aside. Let me help that poor girl you are so afraid of," he said in a low voice. "It's funny how you feel threatened by a woman you have never spoken to, a woman I have not yet known," he said as his lips twitched into a smirk.

The queen seemed to think over his words an appealed expression dominating her features.

"Just remember who your wife is," she huffed walking away from him looking around to see their audience.

You want more....? Then hurry up and start reading

"Well, you did keep your end of the bargain and we do have a little before dinner," she said wrapping her arms around his neck pulling him down. Trailing a kiss from his jawline to the corner of his mouth.

He opened his eyes to see her biting her lower lip smiling at him. Leaning down he captured her lips as they shared a slow, lingering kiss. Biting her lower lip she gasped and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth as their tongues began a dance so old time stood still, leaving them both breathless as they pulled apart. Covering her round bottom in his hands he picked her up and walked to the lounge loving the close contact as he sat down with her in his lap.+

"I'm glad you knocked me down with your car querida, or else I wouldn't have you right here with me. You are so..."

"Baby. Just shut up," she stated as she leaned towards him and kissed him.

He's the golden boy of Kansas City hockey. He has the trophies, fortune, women, and a life where he always gets what he wants.

She's the Special Agent who has spent ten years hunting the monster that murdered her father, waiting for the day its signature appears again.

Zane Chandler's perfect life shatters when he comes home to find his younger sister brutally murdered, her eyes gouged out and a five-pointed star carved between them.

For Island Meyers, that star isn't just a killer's signature. It's the ghost that has haunted her for a decade.

Determined to solve the case that destroyed her, Island takes charge of the investigation, only to face the victim's furious brother.

Zane dismisses her as a rookie, demands she's removed from the case, and insists she isn't capable of finding his sister's killer.

What he doesn't know is that Island isn't a stranger. Their families are connected by a betrayal neither of them has forgotten, and a secret buried for ten years.

Island refuses to walk away. This investigation is her only chance to uncover the truth she's spent a decade chasing, and no grieving hockey superstar is going to stop her.

But when another body appears and the killer's twisted game grows deadlier, Zane and Island are forced into an uneasy partnership where every clue exposes another lie, every discovery brings them closer to the monster, and every argument makes their attraction harder to ignore.

Because Zane's sister wasn't chosen by chance…She was a message.

Now Zane and Island must trust the one person they swore they'd never need before the next victim wears the star.

Because whatever murdered the people they loved isn't finished.

And this time, it's watching them fall for each other.