4077 Book(s) Related to crushing on my billionaire best friend

Two different people who shared the same fate…

One is a demon alpha while the other is just a human.

Her life feels as if it's shrouded in the mist.

"Who is a friend and who is a foe? Or is everyone from her pack a foe?"

She can't tell.

" Is the one approaching her through the mist?"

"Is it a devil or an angel? Have they come to save her or to destroy her?"

The truth is in front of her but she's finding it extremely hard to know the truth.

Even the faintest mist can't hide the truth.


Diego has been searching around the whole pack just for a virgin maiden who would be able to retrieve his dead lover who died pathetically.

Finally, he found one but it seemed heaven was making a joke on him as the only virgin he found during his thousands of years of search happened to have the exact face as his dead lover Annie.

The worst scenario for Diego was the moment the lady whose name is Nadine felt any slight pain he too wasn't left out as he felt the same way he did.

She cries and he cries also.

The moment she's not breathing the moment he stops breathing also

Would Diego want to risk anything to retrieve his dead girlfriend?
Find out as we drive into the journey.

On the eve of our wedding, my Alpha fiancé, Ethan, broke off our engagement for the daughter of the man who once saved his father's life.

My brother took me to confront him, and Ethan threw my brother into the dungeon.

Then he used my brother's life as leverage to force me to hand over the five hundred silver vaults my grandfather had left me.

I swallowed my pride and begged him. He tipped up my chin and gently wiped away my tears.

"Celeste, I'm not really breaking it off. I just want you to agree to let Chloe move into the main house after the wedding, and to get along with her."

"Otherwise, your brother will never get out. Your only other choice is to take those vaults and beg that cursed beast of the Thorn Pack to marry you. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make the right choice."

I didn't say anything.

He thought I'd finally given in, and he smiled, satisfied.

"Good girl. I'll come for you on the wedding day."

What he didn't know was that on the morning of the wedding, I would already be in the bridal car the Thorn Pack sent for me, and I would pass him on the stone bridge between our two territories.

Later, Ethan knelt at the gates of the Thorn Pack and wept as he begged me to forgive him.

When I was injured and hospitalized, my husband, Adrian Hale, was still giving me the silent treatment over his ex-girlfriend.
 
During our worst fight, he told me, "If Vanessa and I wanted to be together, you never would have become Mrs. Hale."
 
After that, I became the kind of wife he'd always claimed to want. I stopped asking questions. I stopped checking when he would be home. I stopped arguing when Vanessa called.
 
Yet, that was when Adrian began reporting every detail of his day, avoiding Vanessa, and trying to come home early. On my birthday, he canceled a trip to Europe and flew back overnight to surprise me.
 
I should have been moved.
 
Instead, I hid in the kitchen and whispered to my best friend, "We're getting divorced. Why is he going to all this trouble?"
 
She laughed. "Adrian Hale is rich, gorgeous, and finally acting like a husband. Are you sure you won't regret leaving him?"
 
I thought about it.
 
"No," I said. "I think I'll finally be able to breathe."
 
Something dropped to the floor behind me.
 
I turned. Adrian was standing in the doorway, looking completely ashen.

All because I'd upset Lucia, my own brother and my husband had me dumped in the worst part of Naples to be taught a lesson.
Before leaving, Dante had paid the men watching me extra money and told them to make sure I learned my place.
For the next fourteen months, I became their favorite punching bag, a helpless prisoner they could torment whenever they pleased.
Any time I resisted, they made sure I regretted it.
It took three months for me to go from fighting desperately for my freedom to silently taking off my clothes whenever they demanded it.
Then, one afternoon, Toto, the man running the place, stormed into my crumbling apartment.
I instinctively started pulling off the only jacket I had left, knowing what his arrival usually meant.
Instead, he barked, "Put that back on! Your husband's here to take you home."
I stared at him, barely understanding the words.
Home? Did I even have one anymore?

Our mother died broke. Three months later Camilla Castellano drove down to Atlantic City and offered to take my sister and me into her family.
One of us she would adopt. Her name, her money, her protection for life.
The other would marry her only son, the man who runs that family after her.
We had to pick that night, before either of us had laid eyes on him.
My sister picked first, and she picked daughter. The wife's the one they shoot at, she said. And a woman that rich doesn't come shopping in a place like this unless something is badly wrong with her boy.
Nothing was wrong with her boy.
So I got the son my sister didn't want, and Rafe Castellano spent three years sure I had worked my way to him on purpose. He took the family's accounts off me and handed them to my sister. He told a room full of people that a life with me turned his stomach.
Two weeks before the wedding, I asked his mother to change the bride.
He didn't believe me. He wouldn't come to the church. He signed the license without reading the name above his own.
He lifted the veil that night to tell me he was sorry.
I wasn't the one underneath it.

For the sake of my marriage, I turned down a promotion and became the perfect wife and mother.
When my six-year-old son was rushed to the ER with an asthma attack in the dead of night, I sat vigil until dawn.
What I didn't expect was to hear my husband, just outside the emergency room doors, bragging to a friend about his mistress — and sneering that I was "bland and boring."
What hurt worse: my own son had been bought off by the other woman, and was now faking illness with practiced ease to cover for his father's affair.
My husband's scheming, my son's betrayal — seven years of devotion, ground into the dirt.
In that moment, something inside me died for good.
If this family is a filthy, lie-riddled con, then I'm taking back every ounce of love and sacrifice I ever poured into it. And I'm not looking back.

I died on the second Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day.
My biological mother, the top neurologist in the United States, was standing in front of my corpse.
She looked at the bedsores all over my body, at the ribs that had been stomped broken, and explained coldly to hundreds of cameras:
“Trash from the bottom of society, covered in needle marks like this, doesn’t deserve to dirty my dissection table.”
She didn’t know that the “social garbage” she called a pill-seeking self-harmer was the son she had abandoned ten years ago.
When the cold scalpel cut open my chest, an old photograph stained with black blood slipped out.
The moment she saw it, the woman who had stood above everyone else—
went completely insane…

On Thanksgiving, I take an emergency mansion cleaning gig to cover my rent. The second I step into the master bedroom, I freeze. Hanging on the wall is a huge wedding photo. The groom is my husband — but the bride beside him is not me.
Liam has built an entire secret family. Worse still, my own parents and brother happily join his fake perfect life. Even my beloved young son has grown attached to another woman. When my husband finally confronts me and reveals another devastating truth, I leave with a broken heart.
Years later, when my ex-husband and all those traitors come crawling to beg for mercy, I will never soften for them again.

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.

I built my husband Evan's Hollywood acting empire alongside him, and we kept our marriage hidden from the public. I once believed our bond was unbreakable. Until I checked his car's navigation history.
For an entire year, every Wednesday night, my movie-star husband lied about working overnight film shoots. When I followed the GPS route to its destination, I found the apartment of his rival actress, Leah.
Then I found more lies. It was only after I vanished completely that Evan realized what he had lost. But by then, I was no longer the woman he left behind.
Some secrets exposed by GPS can never be erased. Some women can never be found again.

I got dragged online by one of my lead devs.

He claimed my "Incubation Project" was a gilded cage—a trap to exploit the team and steal their personal IPs.

The truth?

I funded it out of my own pocket.

Selected candidates would get a $50,000 no-strings-attached seed fund, plus full Ivy League tuition reimbursement. It was 100% voluntary, with zero penalties for opting out.

Since the internet decided I was a toxic capitalist monopolizing their creativity, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I fired off a company-wide memo:

[To protect your creative freedom from capitalist exploitation, the $50,000 Incubation Fund is permanently abolished, effective immediately.]

[As an alternative, the monthly education allowance for all employees is now a $15 reimbursement for basic coding courses.]

The moment the memo dropped, the employees who were counting on that $50k to pay off student loans or change their lives completely lost it.

Now, they're swarming right outside my glass office door, eyes red, begging me to reinstate the program.

For two years my mother told the whole town that my sister Zoe was in a hospital in Switzerland.
She shut the heat off in my room with a wrench, because Zoe's ward is kept at sixty-five degrees. My dinner was always cold, because Zoe can't keep solid food down. I never got a birthday cake, because Zoe hasn't had one since she was seventeen.
The day I won the state 1600, she pulled the medal off my neck in the parking lot and didn't say one word the whole drive home. Then she walked me down to the basement, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under her heel until the ribbon came apart. She took a picture of it lying there. I'll send this to your sister. So she knows her little sister is keeping her company.
She came back down that night with a pair of garden shears. I fought her. She got a fistful of my hair, put my head over her knee, and cut it all off, because chemo took Zoe's.
Then I found something down there my mother never meant me to see.
My sister isn't where she said. And she isn't sick.

Every herb in Moonspring, I had coaxed to life myself, drop by drop, with a healer's touch.
But to my mate, Rourke, the place was just a backyard for his best friend Boone to use and wreck however he pleased.
I had put up with it for a long time.
I put up with it until Boone, planning his own mating ceremony, trampled half a year of my work into the mud right in front of me. I put up with it until Rourke forced me to my knees through our mate mark, just so his friends wouldn't see him lose face.
In three days, Boone would hold the grandest mating ceremony the pack had ever seen, right here in Moonspring.
And I looked at the land transfer I had just agreed to, and said a single word.

A madman attacked the concert hall. I threw myself over my son, taking every blow meant for him. My spine shattered in three places.

My husband Arthur subdued the attacker and rushed us to the hospital—the picture of a devoted, loving spouse.

It was only after hearing his conversation with the doctor that I finally saw his true colors.

My crippling injury was merely collateral damage. My son Ethan? Nothing but a living cornea donor for Mia—the cherished daughter he had with his first love.

He treated my child like spare parts, never knowing Mia isn't even his blood.

Ever since the day I was born, my parents blamed me for every stroke of bad luck that befell our family, calling me a cursed child.
In my past life, when I became pregnant, a child’s whisper began ringing inside my head, and time after time, I chose to trust it.
The first time, I listened to its warning and blocked my parents’ phone numbers. That decision led to them dying in a horrific car crash while trying to reach me.
The second time, seduced by its words, I rushed to a hotel to catch my husband cheating, only to crash a crucial meeting and ruin his multi-million-dollar deal, leaving an unbridgeable fracture in our marriage.
The third time, that gentle voice persuaded me to sign the divorce papers, walk away penniless, and foolishly wait for my husband to come back to me.
In the end, I landed in prison, gave birth in a cold cell, and met a miserable death.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my pregnancy checkup.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

I've been to four weddings. I never made it through a single one.
Not because I didn't love enough. Not because they weren't good enough. It was because every time — right at the moment I was supposed to say I do — my parents would appear on cue, fall apart on cue, and burn everything to the ground on cue.
For years I thought they hated me. Thought they'd given all their love to my dead sister, Claudia, and had nothing left. Then my brother-in-law said something that cracked me open: Any one of those three men — if you'd married him, you wouldn't be alive today.
So which is it? Were they protecting me, or destroying me?

Ten years ago, my parents worked for the Bellamys. He was their driver. She ran the house.

Then came the crash. I watched them shove Nash Bellamy out of the wreck, and it killed them both.

That's where the claustrophobia came from.

He knew. He knew all of it.

Then at homecoming, I showed up in a dress that matched Camilla's. She was the girl he'd always wanted. So he shoved me into the abandoned supply closet backstage.

The lock turned. On the other side of the door, he and Camilla were laughing like it was nothing.

"I'm pretty sure she's claustrophobic."

"Two hours in there. She'll learn."

I clawed at my own hands until they bled, couldn't get any air, and ended up wetting myself in a closet a dog wouldn't sleep in.

When the door finally opened, he pinched his nose and laughed and said I was disgusting.

I pushed myself up the wall, inch by inch, and looked at the face I'd been looking at for ten years. And I didn't want to cry anymore. Not even a little.

"Nash. I'm done chasing you."

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

The biggest regret of my life was letting my son intern at our family company.

Jonah had barely started his internship when another intern named Presley Shaw accused him of sexual assault. Of course, the security cameras on that floor just happened to be down for maintenance that day.

I panicked. I listened to my husband, Curtis, and privately paid Presley two million dollars to keep quiet. I thought money could buy us peace.

Instead, she posted the transfer records and a recording of our conversation online, accusing us of paying her to make the accusation disappear.

The backlash was overwhelming. My son, who wouldn’t hurt a fly and spent most of his time painting alone in his studio, was doxxed. Obscenities were spray-painted across our front door. The police took him away, and while he was being held in jail awaiting trial, the pressure kept mounting until he saw no way out.

In the end, he slit his wrists, believing it was the only way left to prove his innocence.

The company collapsed into bankruptcy. In the chaos, Curtis drained our accounts and ran off with Presley.

Only then did I understand. From the beginning, they had set the whole thing up to destroy my son and me.

On the anniversary of Jonah’s death, I jumped from the roof of our company building.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Jonah was supposed to begin his internship.

This time, I would never let my son go anywhere near that hell again.

Four years ago, Giovanni dumped me in front of everyone at an upscale restaurant. Two weeks later, he was engaged to Rosanna. I made a fool of myself begging on his doorstep, became the laughingstock of Ferro City.
Four years later, he runs into me at Casa Valentino, assumes I'm destitute, and offers me a job as a cleaner for him.
What he doesn't know is that the plainly dressed woman standing before him is the wife of Don Alessandro Valentino—the man the entire underworld bows to.

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

My chosen mate used his Beta authority to give the entire moonbloom compound to his fated mate's daughter.
The healer had said to split it—half for each child. Both would live. He overrode her. Gave the full dose to Rosalie Blackwell.
He wanted a full recovery. Just not for ours.
Three days later, my daughter Wren's organs shut down. She died on her birthday, still asking why Daddy wasn't there. The dress I'd made her—white with little silver wolves along the hem—she never got to put it on.
That same day, his fated's daughter walked out of the healing hall completely cured. He even threw a feast for the whole pack.
I collapsed at the border of Thornecrest territory. The healers told me it was cancer. Late-stage. Nothing left to treat.
Now I sat alone in our empty house with Wren's unworn birthday dress across my lap and drafted the dissolution papers.

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

I had spent ten years rescuing girls sacrificed to the river god.
Then, on the morning of my wedding, my parents drugged me, tied stones to my feet, and placed me on the offering raft.
My brother needed a bride, they said. Her life mattered more than mine.
But the eighteen women I had saved were waiting beneath the water.
This time, they saved me.
And together, we decided to give the county exactly what it claimed to worship:
a river god who demanded sons.

I would often find myself staring into my son Leon's eyes, lost in thought.
One, a deep azure blue, was inherited from his father. The other, however, was amber.
I couldn't understand it. While Leon's lineage is indeed mixed, his other eye should have been silver—the mark of my bloodline, the symbol of the royal werewolf lineage.
Yet it wasn't. This question had haunted me for five years.
Then, by chance, I came across an ancient book in my husband Carlisle's study. It detailed the hereditary rules of eye color for the royal werewolf line:
Regardless of which race they intermarry with, the direct descendants of the royal werewolves will always inherit at least one distinctive eye.
This meant that a son I bore would definitely have silver pupils.
My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I shared my fear—that we might have brought home the wrong child—with Carlisle.
He flew into a rage, snatched the book from my hands, and threw it into the fireplace.
"Selene, are you doubting my fidelity? Or suspecting that our son isn't your own? If Leon knew you doubted him, his heart would be shattered."
Carlisle stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Watching his retreating figure, my heart grew cold, piece by piece.
His reaction confirmed my worst fear, the one I desperately wanted to deny.
With the full moon just seven days away, I decided to abandon the plan of taking Leon back to the royal werewolf clan.

Terminal. One month, maybe less.
I folded the report and put it in my bag. The doctor asked if there was family I could call. I told him there wasn't.
My husband rang while I was crouched against the hospital wall, waiting for the pain to pass. I could hear waves behind his voice. He didn't ask what the doctor said. He wanted to know why his money hadn't come through yet. His first love needed it for her art show.
So I sent him all of it. My savings, and the last of what my mother left me. Ten years, settled in one transfer.
Then my legs went, and a pair of freezing hands caught me before I hit the ground.
The pain stopped the second he touched me.
"Your kind calls us reapers. Give me your soul, and I'll keep the pain off you until the end."
Weston took one look at him and decided I'd hired an actor to make him jealous.
He thinks I'm trying to win him back.

After Three Thousand Years in Seclusion, My Sect Was Broke

I came out of seclusion expecting incense, bells, and a courtyard full of kneeling disciples.

Instead, dust fell into my hair, weeds covered the mountain road, and the great hall of the Azure Cloud Sect had collapsed so badly that a crooked tree had taken root on its roof.

Then a young woman in a patched blue robe pointed a sword at me and shouted, "Who are you? This is Azure Cloud territory. Are you here to steal herbs?"

I looked at the broken gate behind her.

Then I looked at the blade trembling in her hand.

After three thousand years, my sect had one disciple left.

And somehow, she was the sect master.

At four, they shattered both my legs. At six, they ruptured my left eardrum. At seven, they took my right eye—said I'd earn more sympathy begging blind.
After twelve years in hell, my billionaire parents finally found me.
The girl who stole my life grabbed my wrist, nails digging into my skin. "Dare take what's mine, and I'll break whatever's left of your legs."
I smiled, unclipping both prosthetics to show empty pant legs. "I don't have legs left."
She was terrified.

My stepmother married my father because she mistakenly believed he was an Alpha, and that was the beginning of my tragedy.
In my past life, I was falsely accused by my stepmother, betrayed by my mate, and abandoned by my father, who refused to believe me and sold me to an elderly Omega. In the end, I died with injustice in my heart.
But heaven has granted me a second chance. I have returned to the very day my stepmother framed me for her miscarriage.
This time, I won’t let them have their way.
I have gathered my entire pack to make meatballs together, waiting to put on a spectacular show—exposing the scandal of my stepmother, Odessa, and my mate, Beta Peregrine.

My Alpha was the one who started the fire—he lit it with his own hands, ready to burn his own children alive, just so his little mistress Beta Sasha could become Luna without a hitch.

I ran into the flames, carrying two unconscious pups on my back, and jumped from the fifth floor. My palms were scorched, skin torn, flesh charred.

I thought saving his “future heirs” with my own life might earn me a word of gratitude.

But when I woke up, the tribe’s medic looked at me coldly and said, “The Alpha is with Beta Sasha. She was... frightened.”

That was the moment I finally understood—I wasn’t his fated mate, not their mother, not even part of the pack.

I was just a vessel on their path to power. A body—if it didn’t burn, it could still be used.

In the fifth year of my mating to Alpha Manfred,his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Bell, was splashed across every tabloid in the territory.
Pregnant. Unmated. And accused of shattering another couple’s bond.
The rumors hit like a rogue’s ambush. But it was his reaction that truly gutted me.
“Jessica’s father once saved me, She has no pack, no family left. Everything she’s accomplished… she clawed her way to it. Alone.”
My fingers clenched tighter around the pregnancy test tucked away in my purse.
“And the only way to protect her now,” he continued, not even looking me in the eye, “is for me to marry her. To claim the pup as mine.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw. Goddess, my wolf let out a low growl inside me, begging to lunge forward and leave claw marks down his perfectly tragic face.
“And what about me?” I asked, barely more than a whisper. My voice cracked.
The Silver Claw Pack and the Eclipse Pack—my pack—had been allies for over a century.

After twenty years of knowing and loving my destined mate, Alpha Martin, we were finally about to get married.
On the eve of the wedding, He skillfully picked out the lipstick shade I wanted from my makeup bag.
That's when I knew: Alpha Martin had someone else.
That girl was wearing the custom evening gown I'd prepared for the wedding banquet, clinking glasses with Alpha Martin in a mate's toast.
Our friends surrounded her, respectfully calling her "Luna."
I didn't cause a scene. Instead, I called the hospital.
"Dr. Fabian, please dispose of the eggs I had frozen."
Then I sent a message to that girl.
"Yvonne Jimenez, would you like to marry Martin Daniels in my place?"

To save my grandmother from the agony of silver poisoning, I signed a mate contract with Frost Pack’s Alpha Charles—trading eight years as Luna in exchange for her medical treatment.
But what was claimed to be a bond of “mutual help” was a carefully crafted lie from the start.
Charles used her life-sustaining potion to force my silence while he betrayed me over and over, parading one female wolf after another through our home.
He stood by as Thalia drove straight into my heavily pregnant body and said coldly, “You're just a surrogate anyway.”
I lay in a pool of blood, watching him walk away with her in his arms, while our Alpha pup suffocated inside me.
And then… my grandmother died too.
When the ashes of that contract scattered before her grave, and my wolf soul Chloe let out a howl that tore through my chest, I finally removed the moonphase pendant that marked me as Luna.
“Charles,” I said, voice steady with fury, “what you owe me is more than eight years of my life.”

Five years of a marriage forced by family convenience end in the cruelest way possible: with a request for divorce on the same day they would celebrate their anniversary. Lilian, devastated by Ethan's rejection—the man she learned to love despite the circumstances—sees her life fall apart. In her darkest hour, when the pain seems unbearable, Lilian is saved by Daniel Spector, a longtime friend and silent confidant who has always loved her. At the hospital, news changes everything: Lilian is two months pregnant. But there is another woman, Joana Mercadante — rich, famous, and supposedly also expecting Ethan's child. With her heart broken and her soul on fire, Lilian decides to leave. She flees to France and, far from the eyes of the world, gives birth to her son and builds an empire. Five years later, she returns as a powerful woman, determined to face her demons... and she finds Ethan again. He never stopped looking for her, never forgot the love he destroyed with his own hands. Now he must fight not only for forgiveness, but for a second chance—with her and with the son he never knew. But will regret be enough to rebuild a love that was betrayed? Especially when Daniel, Ethan's new rival, is ready to build the life Lilian always dreamed of... and is already the father in her son's heart?

When I caught my boyfriend cheating with my stepsister, I was heartbroken and furious. After giving them both a well-deserved beating, I hit a bar and met a drop-dead gorgeous stranger.
Drunk and mesmerized by his looks, I ignored the red flags. His glowing eyes. That sweet, intoxicating scent only I could smell.
One scorching night later... he tried to pay me like some escort.
"You're the worst I've ever had," I lied with a sneer, throwing my own cash in his face before he did. "Practice more before charging."
Then I ran like hell. Behind me, his furious roar echoed.
But karma's a bitch. That stranger? My company's new CEO.
Oh, and he's a werewolf Alpha.
I planned to lay low and avoid him. Then two pink lines changed everything—I'm pregnant!
My Alpha Boss slammed down a marriage contract: "Sign it. Move in with me."
Before moving in, I taunted: "Your skills were worth $150, tops."
But right now, he growled against my ear: "How about this, my insatiable mate?"
Me, scrambling toward the edge of the bed: "Time out! I need... a few days off!"
He smirked, grabbing my ankle and dragging me back down the mattress: "Not happening. Not until you're 100% satisfied with my performance between the sheets."
From one-night disaster to Alpha's baby mama—never saw this coming. But my possessive Alpha boss is hell-bent on proving he's worth way more than $150 a night... and he's got a lifetime to do it.

Accidentally murdered the bride?
Check.
Forced to marry the cursed Alpha who's lost six wives?
Check.
Now wearing her dress, dragged to his bed, while the pack waits outside for proof he's fucked me raw?
Double check.
Remi was just trying to catch her cheating boyfriend in the act. Instead, she tripped, ripped lace, and cracked a skull.
Now Alpha Nero Blackwater owns her. "Bride for bride," he growls. "You owe me a wedding… and a womb." The curse kills his mates before dawn. Unless he plants an heir fast. But something's wrong.
What if there was never a curse at all?
One night to survive. One claiming to break everything. One Alpha who'll fuck her senseless… even if it's the last thing she feels.


"Congratulations, Alpha Nero," she said cheerfully. "Seems the Moon Goddess has chosen your seventh bride."
I choked. "SEVENTH?!"
"The other six are dead," he said flatly.
"And I'm number seven?"
"Correct."
"IS THIS A MARRIAGE OR A SURVIVAL GAME?!"

He left her on the streets. His brother-in-law picked her up… and made her his wife.
On the day her ex, Mark, married the wealthy socialite Bella, Elena was thrown out with nothing but the clothes on her back—humiliated, broken, and utterly alone.
Until Eric Thompson appeared.
Bella’s older brother. Mark’s powerful brother-in-law. And the most feared Alpha in the city.
He offered her a hand when no one else would. Then, he offered her a deal:
A marriage in name only. A shield against her past. A chance to rebuild.
Elena accepted, expecting a cold arrangement between strangers. But behind closed doors, Eric’s carefully guarded control unraveled—and so did hers. Their chemistry was explosive, their nights intense, and the lines between business and pleasure blurred beyond recognition.
He was the one man she could never have… and the only one she couldn’t resist.
But when Mark realizes what he truly lost, and Bella discovers the secret behind her brother’s bride, Elena must decide:
Is this just a contract?
Or is this the love she was always meant to fight for?

Camille Laurent was stolen at birth. Swapped by a greedy nanny, abandoned without a second thought, and erased from her rightful place in one of the most powerful families in the country.
While the real heiress struggled to survive, the nanny’s daughter, Talia, was raised in luxury as the beloved jewel of the Laurent family, pampered by Camille’s parents, adored by her three brothers, and even promised to the prestigious Matteo Devereux through a childhood engagement arranged by their grandparents.
Then the truth came out.
Six months ago, Camille was finally brought back to the Laurent family. To protect the family reputation and prove their devotion to their bloodline, the Laurent patriarch transferred 35% of his personal shares into Camille’s name overnight, instantly making her one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country.
It brought anxiety to all the Laurent family. But what they don’t know…is that Camille never needed them.
Behind her elegant smile lies a woman filled with secrets powerful enough to shake the whole family. She's a miraculous healer capable of curing the incurable poisons.
Yet despite everything, her family still chooses Talia.
Every accusation against Talia is forgiven. Every scheme against Camille is brushed aside. Even Matteo, the man who was supposed to be Camille’s fiancé—cannot let go of the woman he always believed belonged by his side.
But while the Laurent family underestimates Camille, another man begins to see exactly who she is.
Dante Moretti.
The ruthless heir of an old-money dynasty. A billionaire CEO worshipped by the public…and the merciless king of a criminal empire hidden beneath the city’s glittering surface. When Dante is poisoned by a rival syndicate with a deadly toxin no doctor can cure, he offers a fortune for anyone who can save him.
Only Camille can. Their deal is simple: she becomes his personal physician, and he gives her anything she wants.

The night they came for my sister, I cut my own palm and offered the Devil a better bride.

I did it in front of the whole city. I thought I was just a substitute, a disposable girl thrown into the fog to save the sister I loved. But when the Devil appeared—tall, dressed in black that drank the light, with eyes like pale, cold coins—everything changed.

He didn't kill me. He reached out and closed his freezing hand around my bleeding wrist. That was when he saw it. The old silver mark I had carried since birth, hidden under my skin. The moment his thumb pressed against it, the mark woke, blooming with blinding silver light. His stillness wasn't that of a monster choosing his next meal. It was the shock of a man who had just found the one thing he prayed never to see.

"You are not the one they chose," he said, his voice carrying into every frozen corner of the square. The cold rushed out of the air. He turned my hand toward the dying light, his face cracking open to reveal something far worse than cruelty.

"You were never meant to be mine," he whispered softly, his grip tightening like a vise. "And now I cannot give you back."

Fourteen years ago, Isabella Winston died.

At least, that's what everyone believed.

One moment, she was trapped inside a sinking car beneath the icy waters of the Hudson River. The next, she woke up in her own bathtub and somehow fourteen years in the future.

Her husband is no longer the warm, easygoing man she remembers.

Her five-year-old son is now a nineteen-year-old stranger who looks at her with suspicion.

Her twins barely remember the mother they lost—one forever chasing affection, the other keeping the entire world at arm's length.

And the family she left behind has become something broken, distant, and unrecognizable.

Now Isabella faces an impossible challenge: rebuilding a family that never truly recovered from losing her.

Fourteen years have left scars on everyone.

Unfortunately for those causing the damage, Isabella Winston has returned to set things right.

Following a fabricated assault case, my husband had me committed to a psychiatric hospital to quash public outcry.
After five years locked away, my sight finally returned.
I was overjoyed and ready to share the news with Richard—only to find he had long betrayed me, carrying on an affair with my half-sister.T
he entire ordeal was a setup from the beginning. They framed me, poisoned me to rob me of my sight, and even turned my own son against me, making him call that woman "Mom".
For every lie and wound they inflicted, I will make that despicable pair pay the ultimate price.

I looked Dante dead in the eye and said with crystal clarity, "Security! Please come and escort these clowns out. It seems they missed their way to the circus."
Lucien, still seated, finally spoke, his voice like frostbite. "If I see him within ten feet of you again… I'll take it personally."


Ravenna has always lived in the shadow of betrayal.
"Lily suits Dante better… she's the one he truly wants." The words stung, but not as much as the moment Dante himself confirmed them. "Don't overthink it, Ravenna. You know Lily and I share a history you can't compete with. "
That was the day Ravenna stopped waiting to be chosen.
A gifted doctor with hands that heal what others cannot, she hides her scars behind composure—until her father and stepsister strip away her last freedom. Faced with Dante's betrayal, her sister's scorn, and her father's indifference, Ravenna accepts the demand to marry in her sister's place—because she knows that respect is never granted, only taken. Bound to Lucien, a man she neither chose nor trusts, she steps into the marriage determined to seize her own power.
But Lucien is not the cruel stranger she imagined. Cold and calculating, yet bound by secrets of his own, he unsettles her with moments of unexpected tenderness. What was meant to be her prison becomes a battlefield of silence, suspicion, and a desire she cannot ignore.
As Ravenna works to bring down those who wronged her, she must also face the dangerous pull of a husband she was never meant to love. In the end, will vengeance define her—or will love rewrite the fate she thought was sealed?

"So, you're asking me to sacrifice my life, mother?"
"And what of it? Are you so proud of your pitiful and disgraceful life? You are a blight and a curse! This is the only way you can redeem yourself!"
"By dying?" Winona asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, by dying and performing a noble act to cleanse your sins and curses. Perhaps you might be blessed with good karma in your next life," her mother retorted harshly.
Winona knew her mother would never wish her well. What good karma? Her mother would likely wish she had never been born in the first place!
Winona cast a fleeting glance at her supposed mate, but his eyes were filled with hatred and... threat. It was as if he would rip her to shreds if she dared refuse to comply.
Did he despise her that much?
That was the moment when she began to accept the harsh reality that she was alone in this world. She had nothing and no one. She was despised by her own mother. Rejected by her mate. Mocked by her sister.
Perhaps, she wasn't meant to be alive.

"Why did you marry me?"

"Because I had no other choice."

The day my grandfather fell critically ill, I was abandoned by my boyfriend of seven years and lost my last pillar of support.

To fulfill my grandfather's dying wish, I married Charles William, a man I had never met.

Cold, arrogant, dangerous—that was my entire impression of this new husband.

It wasn't until after my grandfather's death that I discovered the William family harbored a shocking secret.

They weren't ordinary people at all.

And Charles was actually the future leader of the werewolf clan.

Facing my father's greed for the inheritance, my shattered family, and one crisis after another, I could only fight back step by step on my own.

Yet that man who had despised me from the start always appeared by my side whenever danger struck.

I thought this marriage was merely a transaction.

Until one late night, when Charles trapped me in his arms, his golden beast eyes locked tightly onto me.

"Daisy, you're already my wife."

"Isn't it too late to think about running now?"

“I’m sorry Quinn, but I; Jeovanni Lum rejects you; Quinn Felon as my mate. You’re no longer Luna of this pack, nor are you my fated mate. Accept my rejection.”

His words awakened the pain within Quinn, and she fell to her knees, crying out when it became too much to bear…she didn’t want to, but if she didn’t accept his rejection, she’d die.

“I…I Quinn Felon a-accepts your rejection…I am no longer Luna, nor am I your fated mate.”

It was hard to say the words because these words were never ones she thought she’d ever have to say…
~
Quinn Felon was at the very pique of happiness when her life started to crumble apart. Her mate whom she had spent three long and blissful years with suddenly didn’t seem to love her anymore.

He became distant and cold, and soon Quinn found the reason behind his change…it was because he was courting her sister…her sweet and innocent omega sister; Delilah.

She had predicted that he’d choose Delilah, but what she hadn’t foretold was being rejected and banished in front of the whole pack in the middle of her mate’s and her sister’s mating ceremony.

Amelia's life took an unexpected turn when she learned that she was diagnosed with a terminal illness that left her only six months to live.

Heartbroken and devastated, the last thing she had expected was to be offered a divorce agreement by her husband, Adrian, when she got back home.

Given that their contract has expired and his ex-girlfriend, who was also Amelia's stepsister, has returned, Adrian wanted Amelia to make way for her. But the last thing he had expected was what she requested as compensation for the divorce.

What did Amelia really request as compensation for the divorce?

What happens when Adrian finds out that the reason why he has been keeping his feelings from Amelia was all lies and that who he wants to leave Amelia for isn't who she really is?

What happens when Adrian tries to win back the woman who he has neglected and sometimes mistreated for no reason only to find out that she's diagnosed with a terminal illness and that she has only a month remaining to live?