3676 Book(s) Related to loving my billionaire brother

My best friend Bella had a cluster of mushrooms growing on her back, every color you could imagine.

They throbbed like something alive, and the smell coming off them was like nothing I'd ever smelled.

She called it Moonlight Bloom, a gift straight from Viscount Lucas himself.

If she kept that thing on her body for forty days, not one more, not one less, until it bloomed its brightest spores, the viscount would marry her and take her into his estate.

So she refused to shower. Wouldn't let a drop of water touch her.

Everyone in the pack knew me as the one who always looked out for people, and I figured she'd been cursed with dark magic. So one night while she slept, I grabbed a bucket of soapy water and a stiff brush and scrubbed that thing clean off her back.

The next morning, she ran her hand over the raw patch of skin where it used to be, grabbed a silver dagger, and drove it straight through my heart.

"You jealous bitch! You just ruined my whole future!"

Bleeding out on the floor, that's when it hit me. She never cared how disgusting that thing was, or what it was doing to her body. All she cared about was marrying into money and status.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back in time.

This time around, I decided I wasn't going to stick my nose where it didn't belong. I was going to sit back and watch that mushroom grow.

I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was ten years old.
At first, my parents were terrified. They watched me closely, rushed me to the hospital over every bruise, every nosebleed. I was the fragile one—the child who needed saving.

Then years passed.
They got used to it.
They got tired.

By the time my twin sister was graduating and my family was finally breathing again, I was about to turn eighteen.
And that night, while everyone believed I’d be fine like always, I bled to death.

Everyone says I'm lucky— a noble lady from the Miller family, doors open for me when I walk out, heads bow when I come home.
But deep down, I know the truth. I live like a “spare”: covering for my father’s mistakes, taking the fall for my stepsister.
Even the bodyguard I thought I could rely on is only here for Emma.
I caught him using Emma's photo to relieve himself, heard his Underboss mock him for acting as a bodyguard to me, just to make Emma feel his heart.
He was my bodyguard, yet when danger struck, he shielded Emma.
When I lashed out at him, punishing him for Emma’s faults, he secretly returned the favor, giving me ninety-nine lashes in retaliation.
Finally, I agreed to marry into the Jones Family and became the “vegetative Don’s” wife.
I took the money, moved to Manhattan, and became the most dignified Mrs. Jones: keeping watch over a mute husband, at least no longer having to worry about a knife in my heart.

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Kendrick, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope.
“Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Elena Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate.
“If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.”
He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?”
Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months.
Meanwhile, I packed my bags in silence.

Kaelani spent her life believing she was wolfless.
Cast out by her pack. Forgotten by the Lycans.
She lived among humans—quiet, invisible, tucked away in a town no one looked at twice.

But when her first heat comes without warning, everything changes.

Her body ignites. Her instincts scream. And something primal stirs beneath her skin—
summoning a big, bad Alpha who knows exactly how to quench her fire.

When he claims her, it’s ecstasy and ruin.

For the first time, she believes she’s been accepted.
Seen.
Chosen.

Until he leaves her the next morning—
like a secret never to be spoken.

But Kaelani is not what they thought.
Not wolfless. Not weak.
There is something ancient inside her. Something powerful. And it’s waking.

And when it does—
they’ll all remember the girl they tried to erase.

Especially him.

She’ll be the dream he keeps chasing… the one thing that ever made him feel alive.

Because secrets never stay buried.
And neither do dreams.

A supportive brother gets to live a new life as one of the main characters in a Boy Love Game as “Gilbert Bedivere,” the son of a duke, who was his family’s pride.

His goal for this life is that he will have a slow living lifestyle, staying far away from problems.

But who would have known that getting too close to the main characters, who are his friends and his younger brother, would lead him away from the goal he has set!

Who are those main characters surrounding him…?

Hareve Lancelot… a white-haired boy with rainbow eyes who makes all the girls go crazy, as expected of the owner of the famous SM route and the user of the light magic. Even though he looks cold on the outside, who would have known he is super hot-tempered!

Nigel Gawain… an adorable-looking boy with silver eyes, the owner of the 3P route, but who would have known that he is just a fluffy boy!

Cass Bedivere… the protagonist of the game, with his golden eyes and hair, appears in the immoral love route. Even though he was born with dark magic, who would have known that he also has interesting relationships with other characters.

Not to mention many other characters that Gilbert has never met,

He now feels the problems lining up for him!

In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.


“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

What do you do when you catch your fiancé's best friend, who hates you with every fiber of his being, jerking off with your photo on his phone?


Nadia's almost perfect life was almost coming to an end when she mistakenly sent nudes meant for her fiancé to his best friend, her boss, the cold, ruthless Mr. Jeremy Kellason.

And on the same night, they had a late-night meeting at their office suite, where they had to share the same wing.

It was 1 AM when Nadia went to return the files she mistakenly took from her boss's office... That was when she heard it... In his bedroom... He was jerking off with her photo in his hand.

She should have run away, but she didn't make that decision in time, until his eyes met hers... That was the moment everything changed for Nadia.

Now, trapped in a forbidden web with her boss/fiance's best friend, she had two options... Call off the wedding and marry her boss, or he tells her fiancé that the baby she was carrying belonged to him, and he wasn't going to let her go for any reason in the world.

BOOK 3 OF THE CORPORATE SIN SERIES. All BOOKS IN THIS SERIES CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE.


TRIGGER WARNING!!!

This book drips with everything you’ve been warned to stay away from: obsession, coercion, power imbalance, and a morally black anti-hero who plays god with people’s lives.

It is raw, twisted, and unapologetically toxic.

Warning : 21+

"I want you two to make love right in front of my eyes!" He said. My heart neqarly jumped at the sound. Did I mishear or what?

"What do you mean I made love to her? Are you crazy?" Jacob demanded.

"That's my biggest fantasy, Jake! Watching my girlfriend have sex with my best friend or my brother. I wonder if I'll get jealous or join in on the wild game."


Henry William Haydn, a charismatic man of perfection. He became a company director at a young age, living a life of moral values and dignity. But who would have thought that behind the moral wall he always displayed throughout his life, there lurked wild, sometimes unreasonable fantasies.


Amy Evangelista, a simple woman who grew up on the beaches of Bali, realizes her dream of working for a prestigious company in Australia. But her dreams grow even higher when Henry, the company director, is attracted to her simplicity and beauty.


Jacob Andreas Haydn, Henry's cousin, who suffers from a "Brother Complex" and considers Henry the most important person in his life. Jacob, a cold, perfectionist, and sharp-tongued genius, has for months positioned himself as the "Hater" to Amy, whom he considers a stupid woman unworthy of being his beloved brother's girlfriend.

A complicated relationship and crazy love lead them to be trapped in a vortex of traps they call "Fetish"

They say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. They never said anything about his soul.

I was a culinary prodigy on the verge of global fame until my fiancé and my best friend murdered me with my own carving knife to steal my recipes. My last thought wasn’t of love, but of a burning vow: If I get a second chance, I will serve them their just deserts.

I got my wish.

I woke up not in a morgue, but in the body of an omega slave, Number 74, in the brutal, wolf-ruled kingdom of the Lunar Fang Pack. I was weak, worthless, and slated to die in the kitchens. But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. The soul of a master chef still burned within me.

When I poured my rage and my grief into a simple broth for a dying slave, I discovered a truth that would shatter this world: my emotions are ingredients. My cooking is magic. A stew made with spite can poison. A cake baked with defiance can empower.

Now, my unique gift has drawn the attention of the three most dangerous Alphas in the kingdom.

Emperor Kael, the cursed and ruthless Alpha King
ho woman, not just the weapon.

Commander Cassian, his stoic, lethal protector,

Prince Raze, the visiting rival Alpha

They think I’m a pawn in their game of thrones. A tool to be used and discarded.

They have no idea.

I was betrayed for my recipes once. I’ll be damned if I let a trio of Alphas do it again. My menu is set, and this time, the main course is revenge.

The only question is: which of these powerful wolves will be the first to take a bite?

In my past life, my wife was in a car accident and became a vegetable.

I bankrupted myself trying to save her, going from billionaire to homeless vagrant.

When I finally died mysteriously in prison, I understood the truth:

My wife had been faking her coma all along. She wanted to steal my fortune with her lover—my own brother.

But now I've been reborn.

"Since she's already dead, let's harvest all her organs for donation," I told the doctor.

My wife was sleeping with her assistant.

I didn’t confront her. I was in the middle of a critical funding round and about to take over as CEO, and I couldn’t afford to act on emotion.

Then my PI told me the truth: the affair was only the beginning.

On her birthday night, she planned to drug me, send my secretary into my room, and frame me for cheating—maybe even saddle me with a fake child scandal.

If it worked, my CEO promotion would be dead, the funding would collapse, and my reputation would be finished.

She thought the setup was flawless.

Too bad she forgot one thing:

I’m not good at explaining myself. I’m good at letting people walk straight into the trap I built for them.

So that night, the man carried into the room wasn’t me.

It was her lover.

They told me my daughter drowned. Too much to drink, a slick deck, a terrible accident.

Then they put a number on her, slid the check across the table, and asked me to sign away the right to ever ask how she died.

I signed.

They didn't ask what I'd do after.

I changed my name. I spent three years earning a desk in their building, close enough to hear the man who buried her joke about the father who "made some noise, took the money, and went away."

He doesn't know my face. None of them do.

They thought the money bought my silence.

They have no idea what it bought.

Selena stole my sister's talent and became a saint. To appease her, my family threw my sister into a mass grave. The first thing I did after crawling back from purgatory was to crush Selena's knees. She knelt before my sister's grave, never to rise again. As for the Archbishop of the Privy Council? He would kneel before the thorny cross on my chest too.

I’m a retired Special Forces soldier. After I got out, I handled problems people didn’t want on paper, and I’ve seen enough dirty work to last a lifetime.

When I finally retired for real, I wanted a normal life.

So I came back to the orphanage where I grew up, planning to adopt a quiet seven-year-old boy I’d kept in touch with for years.

But the moment I arrived, I was told he’d already been “adopted.”

I called the family to make sure he was safe. On the line he said, “I’m fine.”
Then I heard it—fingernails tapping in a pattern: three short, three long, three short.

The distress signal I had taught him.

I stormed into the director’s office and forced the truth out: the adoption papers were fake. He wasn’t taken into a home. He was sold.

They think I’m just a returning orphanage worker.
They have no idea what I’ve done out there—and no idea I’m very good at cleaning up this kind of mess.

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

I was an orphan, and a rare heart condition ate away at me for twenty years. The night I died in that cold hospital room, a reaper in a black robe came for me.

He told me if I crossed into a world of werewolves, into the Moonheart Pack, and made Estelle's family genuinely love me — Estelle being the real daughter who'd died a horrible death there — and if I rewrote the ending where they all went mad and tore each other apart, I'd get my health back for good. A second life.

For twenty years in that body, I loved every single one of them with everything I had.

My husband Rhett was the youngest Alpha the pack had ever had. I mentioned once that I wanted Alaskan wild berries, and he drove a thousand miles overnight to get them. My mother Sylvia, the pack's head healer, made me tonics herself every single day. My father Everett and my brother Callum spoiled me so much the whole pack envied me for it.

I thought I'd actually rewritten my fate. I thought I was the happiest person alive.

Until that night.

I'm carrying a berry pie I baked myself toward the council hall when I hear my mother's voice, flat and cold.

"Estelle's heart is finally in perfect condition. Now's the best time to take it."

"Her heart buys Lila's life. She should be grateful for it." Rhett says it like it's nothing. "Once we take the heart, I'll dissolve the mate bond myself."

So this is it. All that kindness was just to grow a healthy heart for their adopted girl.

Three years. I've spent three years trying to love them, to thaw them out, to change things.

Then let it end here.

Everyone said I was just a shadow of Ethan, that I was nothing without him.
So during the tryouts, to comfort his "scared" sweetheart, he let go mid-jump, almost costing me my life.
He was betting I couldn't leave him, that I'd forgive him like I did the last eighteen times.
But he lost.
This time, I didn't cry or throw a fit.
I simply tossed the apartment key that symbolized our seven years together into the trash, then turned and walked toward my own world championship.

I was going to donate a kidney to my fiancé.

Before telling him I was a match, I lied and said I was the one with kidney failure. Dean froze for only a few seconds before canceling the wedding. He said sick people should leave on their own instead of burdening everyone else.

I was about to ask whether he had wanted to call off the wedding all along when his biological sister walked out of his bedroom wearing his shirt.

Everyone in the New York mafia world knew that Ethan Leone, the Don of the Leone family, was obsessed with his wife.
And I was his legally wedded Donna.
But the moment I pushed open the doors to the nightclub with my pregnancy report in hand.
I saw my husband’s hand resting on his stepmother Serena’s swollen belly.
The report slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
Serena glanced at it without the slightest concern.
Then she smiled.
“You can’t have children anyway. Once the baby’s born, you can raise it.”
That was the moment I decided to divorce him.
But later, while Ethan was away, she shoved me from behind at the top of the staircase inside the family mansion.
I tumbled down the stairs.
Blood poured between my legs.
Ethan rushed over.
He saw it.
He saw the blood.
But in the end, he chose to pick Serena up and run out the door without looking back.
I lay in a pool of blood, pulled out my phone, and called my family lawyer.
“The money my family loaned the Leone family three years ago…”
“Prepare a demand notice.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Diana… if you take that money back, the Leone family will go bankrupt.”
I stared blankly at the ceiling and wiped away my tears.
“I know.”

"You were like a starved beast last night," I complained, spreading jam on my toast.
Gideon's hands froze mid-knot on his tie. He turned to me, his eyes filled with utter bewilderment.
"Nadia, are you out of your mind? I was in the study finishing up that proposal last night. I crashed on the couch at three in the morning. I never even went into the bedroom."
The knife dropped from my hand onto the table.
If the man I made love to all night wasn't my husband.
Then... who was it?

I waited seven years for Lucas.
The moment our Mate Bond was finally sealed, our wedding night left me so exhausted I couldn’t even move and then my phone lit up with photos of him having sex in a car with Isabella, the widow of his dead brother.

Everyone told me not to overthink it. Our relatives brushed it off. Even the Elders stepped in to smooth things over for him.
But behind closed doors, Lucas showed his real face—Restore the Mate Bond or he would destroy my family’s company.

When I fought back, he slapped me so hard it shattered the twenty years of relationship between us. He froze my accounts, and my mother was rushed to the hospital because of sheer stress.
That still wasn’t enough. He demanded that I apologize publicly at a business gala, to the woman wearing his brother’s wedding gift. He even ripped away the moonstone necklace my mother left me.

I was shoved into a champagne tower, blood all over me. And he never looked at me once. All his tenderness was reserved for his sister-in-law.
Just when I’d finally gone numb, top-tier Alpha Finn walked in with a one-billion-dollar contract. “Your designs are worth this much. And I don’t like people touching what I’ve set my eyes on.”

Seven years of devotion wasted on a lie. This time, I’m tearing the fake Mate Bond to shreds and I’ll make every traitor pay!

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.

For 364 days, Jasmine Gallo lived in silence and she felt that silence louder than anything she had ever heard. She lost her hearing because of him but found her voice without him. A car accident arranged by Elle Esteban, the foster sister of her boyfriend, left her deaf. Dante Esteban, the man she loved for years, sat by her bed, signed until his fingers bled, and promised her a future. She believed him. She even had his ring made. Then she heard the truth behind closed doors. “It’s been more than a year already. Isn’t it high time Jasmine let it go? Elle was freaking nineteen and was pretty reckless. But during her one year away, I had made sure she learnt her lesson so she’s more matured now, not just physically but mentally so everyone can move on from this.” Dante forgave the girl who tried to kill her and treated the issue as nothing serious.
In one night, everything broke and Jasmine walked away to take up a position she had previously rejected for Dante’s sake. She was going to marry the most formidable man in Spain, Leonardo Madrigal.
There would be no more chances for anyone to hurt her. She will no longer be Dante’s deaf girl or her family’s sacrificial lamb.
She would be Mrs Madrigal.
And for the first time in a while, the noise of the world would be hers.

My Big Bad Wolf Series: Elysia & Alex-Book 1 (Nocturnal Collections)

She broke into his mansion. Now she’s trapped in his world.

A cunning thief with nothing to lose.
A powerful Alpha with everything to protect.
When Elysia Crinshaw is caught stealing from Alex Landry, she doesn’t go to jail, she’s claimed. Drawn into his world, she learns that freedom can be more dangerous than chains…and love more brutal than any cage.

Pregnant?” A gleam crossed my eyes, and before I could control myself, tears began running down my eyes. My vision was blurry from the tears, but I still scanned the files, my heart beating loudly. A smile finally made its way to my face.

I looked at the nurse who was standing behind me, looking happy, but certainly not as happy as I was. Eight years. Eight years of barrenness, Eight years of crying and praying to the moon goddess, Eight years of tolerance to everything I passed through in the hands of my Alpha’s mother.

I bled for her company.
Literally.
Seventy-two hours straight at the keyboard until my nose dripped blood onto the keys.
She couldn't answer thirty calls while I lay dying—she was too busy riding her boy toy in Cabo.
So I did what any good programmer does with corrupted files.
I hit delete.
On everything.
Her access. Her code. Her future.
What I built, I could destroy.

Missing for five years, I dragged my slightly crippled left leg back to the slums.

Only to see my once-gentle wife wearing a cheap, fraying apron, being mercilessly humiliated in front of a greasy sink.
My five-year-old son was cowering beside a pile of garbage, clutching a broken toy, trembling in fear.

A high-and-mighty tycoon slapped a three-million-dollar IOU across my face. A thug kicked a plate of rancid, rotting meat scraps to my feet, sneering, "Lick it clean, and I'll waive ten thousand in interest."

Desperate to protect me, my wife pushed me away, only to be brutally kicked into the muddy water by a bodyguard, revealing a back covered in a suffocating, horrific lattice of burn marks and whip scars.

Everyone thought I was just a crippled piece of trash—a useless man who couldn't even protect his own wife and child.
That was, until I reached into my coat and pulled out a black satellite phone that had gathered dust for five years.

"Disable Ghost Silence Protocol. Initiate full takeover."

That night, eight heavy attack helicopters tore through the clouds, blotting out the sky.
Hundreds of fully armed, elite special operatives descended from above. Dropping to one knee in the freezing mud, they roared in unison: "Welcome back, Young Master!"

The entire city’s municipal assets, the police force, the underworld—both the light and the dark—could be reduced to ashes with a single thought from me.

I took off my tattered jacket and draped it gently over my wife's trembling shoulders. Then, I crushed the tycoon's mechanical prosthetic limb with my bare hands. My voice was calm, yet it sent a chilling shockwave through everyone present:

"Three million? I just did the math on the scars you owe my wife..."
"Now, you owe me thirty billion."

The apocalypse arrives, rain stops worldwide, outdoor temperatures soar to 60 degrees Celsius, and everyone fights and loses their humanity over a single drop of water.
But I gave away dozens of cases of bottled water that I had stockpiled at home to my neighbors downstairs for free.
People laughed at my overflowing compassion; my wicked ex even hoarded two tons of water, waiting to see me thirsty and begging her on my knees like a dog.
But what they didn't know was that I didn't need water at all.
Because I'm not human.

"Get out of here with your dying bastard!"
My son suddenly fell critically ill, and the only matching organ was locked in my wife's family's cold storage. I stormed into the company with my critically ill child, only to be met with a severe suspension notice.
Everyone thought I was some lowly social outcast, someone they could crush at any moment.
Until I pulled out that dusty badge, my father-in-law, who controlled a New York business empire, was so terrified that he cleared the room on the spot, his legs going weak.
"Arrange surgery for my son immediately." I looked at him coldly. "If he misses the optimal transplant window, I guarantee your entire family, and this city, will be executed for him."

Before the apocalypse in my previous life, my adopted sister blindly believed an online post claiming an extreme global freeze was coming. She forced me to spend everything on raw meat and heavy winter gear. When the "Extreme Heat" apocalypse actually arrived, all her supplies rotted into putrid waste. To vent her frustration, she locked me in a cage and left me to be baked alive in the scorching heat.
Reborn, I smiled and helped her hoard ten tons of raw meat and heavy leather jackets, watching as she dreamed of becoming the Queen of the Wasteland...

Every July, my husband left for a business trip to France—so for seven full years of marriage, we never once got to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
This time, I flew all the way to France to surprise him, and mid-flight, I stumbled across a social media post.
My dream girl finally agreed to be with me. How do I make the frumpy, worn-out wife back home file for divorce on her own?
The OP poured out his grievances in the comment section:
When my dream girl suddenly moved abroad, I married her former best friend to keep me company through the hard times, just so I wouldn’t lose touch with her completely.
Now she’s finally said yes to being with me, and I’ve made enough to give her the lavish, privileged life she deserves.
I want my wife to find out about my affair herself so I can get a clean divorce without a fight, but she’s so painfully oblivious. I’ve come home reeking of my dream girl’s perfume on purpose, and every single July I fly here to France for our private time together, watching the lavender bloom in Provence with her. She never noticed a thing.
Perfume. July. France.
Those matching details made my fingers go numb. A deafening buzz exploded in my skull. A bone-deep chill washed over me, and I prayed with everything I had that it was all just a terrible coincidence.
Until I read the final line.
Just got a spending alert from her supplementary credit card—she bought a flight to France. I’m heading to pick up my dream girl now, might as well keep an eye out for her, just in case.
The plane touched down. When I stepped into the arrivals hall, I lifted my head almost instinctively.
There stood Shen Sinian, the man I hadn’t seen in two weeks, in a crisp, tailored suit, a bouquet of roses in his hand, locked in a passionate kiss with a woman with a stunning, willowy figure, her back to me.
He opened his eyes by chance, and through the crowd of travelers, his gaze locked directly with mine.

I chose to retire at my peak for Alexander.
But twenty minutes before our wedding started, he decided to help his childhood sweetheart move, leaving me alone at the venue.
He said, "Sophia, you're strong enough; you don't need anyone to protect you."
So I tossed my veil aside and called off the wedding.
Alexander thought I'd come crawling back, even threatened to blacklist me.
But he didn't know that as I was leaving the wedding, my former coach suddenly called out to me, asking if I wanted to chase that championship again.

"I need an accident—one that looks fatal," I said calmly into the encrypted phone. "It's the only way to escape him."
Rumors swirl that this man—the underworld boss who controls half of Europe’s shadow economy—loves me beyond reason.
They say he defied his entire family for me. That this ruthless killer laid down his weapons just to cook me a meal.
For years, he made the world believe I was his one weakness—and even I almost believed it.
But instinct in a life-or-death moment doesn’t lie.
When bullets shattered the car window, he yanked the steering wheel on reflex—shielding my adopted sister in the passenger seat while leaving me, his wife, fully exposed to the hail of gunfire.
As I lay bleeding, desperately trying to protect our unborn child… he was busy cradling her in his arms.
While I endured everything for our future, he signed over the estate—the one he promised would be our retire place—to that lying sister.
That’s when I knew: some loves are just performances for the living.
So I gave him exactly what he wanted.
I left behind a positive pregnancy test—six weeks along—and drove straight into the deep ocean, staging the most brutal finale right before his eyes.

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.

The dealership called to inform me that my Rolls-Royce Starlight Headliner had been replaced with a pink one and was ready for pickup.
I was bewildered. I hadn't driven that car in ages—why would anyone change the headliner without my knowledge?
I confronted my husband, who managed our garage, demanding an explanation.
"Honey, maybe they got their wires crossed. I'll swing by the dealership later and sort it out."
I wasn't about to waste my breath. Instead, I called my friend directly—she happened to own the dealership.
"William's having an affair. I'm going to catch him red-handed."

I’d spent six years working under an alias for the High Council.
The day I came home, I happened to see my daughter being slapped by a woman and forced to kneel down.
I slapped the woman back and called my husband, Derek.
The call connected. In the background, I heard his newlywed wife giggling.
In a voice so cold I barely recognized it, he said, “No one can save you.”
Then he hung up.

That woman sneered, “Here, even the air you breathe belongs to Alpha Derek!”
She had no idea Derek only went from an ordinary Gamma to a Pack king because I’d been laying the road for him from behind the curtain.
Now he had his precious wife and son in his arms, and he still let them treat my daughter like a dog.

I smiled.
If he’d forgotten who lifted him onto the throne.
Then I wouldn’t mind dragging him down with my own hands.

“I’m the one deciding your fate, Derek.”
I took my daughter’s hand and looked straight at the man in front of me.
“Game over. Your Alpha era ends here.”

To pay for her daughter’s leukemia treatment, Nora takes every job she can find. But the wedding she’s hired to plan belongs to the one man she never expected to see again.
Five years ago, Xie Yanchen was her first love. Now he’s a powerful CEO… and about to marry another woman. Worse, she must plan their wedding herself.
What he doesn’t know is that she secretly gave birth to his child.
What she doesn’t know is that this reunion will change both their lives forever.
As the truth slowly comes to light, he realizes the woman he once lost has spent five desperate years raising his daughter alone.

After being poisoned by her foster sister for years—fed weight-gain hormones disguised as vitamins—Chloe Harrison lost 90 pounds and clawed her way back from rock bottom.
Her cruel foster sister Mia even tricked her into a humiliating one-night stand with what she called "a fat, balding stranger." But that night was anything but shameful—it was unforgettable.
Now Mia has one final insult: marry the "pathetic cripple" Mia publicly rejected—a bankrupt, wheelchair-bound recluse named Julian Astor.
However, everything changes when Chloe walks into that conference room. Julian isn’t a broken old man—he’s six-foot-three of raw power in a Tom Ford suit, a devastatingly possessive billionaire CEO who makes her forget how to breathe.
All of a sudden, her contract marriage turns into something dangerously real. Julian doesn’t just want her on paper—he wants to worship every curve, trace every scar, and take her every single night.
Why does his touch feel so hauntingly familiar? And why does he look at her like he’s been searching for her since that rainy night?
A ruthless billionaire couldn’t possibly be obsessed with the woman he was never supposed to keep… could he?

In our strict, unforgiving religious community, lust is the ultimate sin, one that can destroy your soul and your reputation forever.

I just turned 18. He is 38. The pastor’s only son.

Eli Whitaker has been my darkest secret for months.

Long before anyone suspected, he cornered me in the empty chapel and made me sin in ways I never imagined. Rough. Forbidden. Addictive. Every stolen night I tell myself it’s the last time, but when he pins me down and fucks me like I belong to him, heaven and hell stop mattering.

Now our worlds are colliding in dangerous ways. Every Sunday I sit in the front pew while Eli stands beside Pastor Matt preaching purity and righteousness… while his cum is still dripping down my thighs from what he did to me before service.

The entire church is watching. Gossips like Chloe and Leah are always hunting for scandal. Josh wants me. Caleb keeps asking questions after Eli nearly beat him for commenting on how sexy I look.

One wrong move and everything will explode- Pastor Matt’s wealth, our family’s reputation, and this twisted, addictive thing between us.

He calls me “little sister” in public. In private, he ruins me.

This is our sin.
And we don’t want salvation.

We want each other… no matter how many commandments we break.

⚠️EROTICA⚠️

"I'm coming to cut out my baby from your stomach myself."
They called me Rose, but they forgot one truth: every rose comes with thorns.
I trusted my husband. I loved my best friend. They repaid me by poisoning my father, stealing my inheritance, and locking me in a basement to rot—six months pregnant.
I died watching them wear my jewels and laugh at my misery.
Then fate gave me a second chance.
I woke up at my father's funeral, the taste of betrayal still fresh on my tongue.
They think I'm still the same soft, grieving heiress they can drug and manipulate. They think I'm an easy target.
They're wrong.
This time, I'm not just defending my father's legacy. I'm burning their world to the ground.
From the funeral podium to the boardroom, I'm reclaiming my power piece by piece.
But as I rewrite my destiny, my enemies are evolving. Worse, the man who should be dead isn't staying buried.
How far am I willing to go to win? And when the thorns I've grown finally draw blood—will I be the one holding the blade, or the one bleeding out?

Amanda Rousso married Kenneth Chavez for the thought that all her problems when it comes to finances will solve everything, but she is wrong because the moment she said yes to the fixed marriage, her soul was already buried six feet under the ground.

She never thought she would become a pawn in Kenneth’s twisted game, and trapped her in the marriage filled with broken vows and lies. Throughout 5 years of being together, she was able to learn how to love him and obey him, but Kenneth was so abusive and couldn't accept her because, for him, Amanda is the reason why his first love left him. In order to avenge her, she must endure all the cold treatment.

In the darkest moments of her life, Amanda decided to escape, and she stumbled into the arms of Damon Vera, the king of Mafia society who was feared by everyone. Damon pledged to protect her, but with one condition. She will marry Damon.

Now, Amanda must decide. Will she marry Damon to spare her life and run away from her past that keeps hunting her or get entangled in his life and power as if she stepped into another level of prison?

I accidentally entered an S-rank horror dungeon, but thought it was some immersive dating show.

Facing the bloodthirsty Ghost King BOSS:

Others: Begging for mercy.

Me (blushing): Those pecs, that battle-damaged look—where did they find such a gorgeous contestant? I'm obsessed!

When he tried to strangle me, I touched his hand. "You're so cold, let me warm you up~"

Ghost King: ???

Facing the psycho doctor with a chainsaw:

Others: Screaming and running.

Me (swooning): Doctor, those beautiful fingers are meant for piano, not chainsaws. Be sweet and put that down!

Doctor: ...

Facing the flesh-eating demon:

Me: Raw meat isn't healthy! Here, have some chocolate instead!

Seven days later, the dungeon collapsed.

Me, waving goodbye through tears. "Even though it was acting, you became my family!"

When the zombie apocalypse hit, my girlfriend called me weak and hypocritical. She said only the strong deserved to survive, then handed the map of the base I had spent two years building to a warlord and watched me bleed out in the dirt.

Then I opened my eyes and woke up four months earlier.

The warlord had not arrived yet.
I did not expose her. I did not beg her to stay. I quietly reinforced the walls, emptied the warehouse, and dug traps beyond the fence.

She passed the intel like before. She opened the gate like before. She thought she would win again, and she thought I would be softhearted again.

She only realized the truth after leading them into the warehouse and finding an empty cage.

She dropped to her knees in the mud, begging the warlord to take her with him. But the strong man she chose kicked her off the truck and left her for the dead.

At last, she tasted the rule she worshipped.

Faced with the dying Demon King's curse, my princess fiancée threw herself in front of the mage, shielding him with everything she had.

She shoved my battered, bleeding body toward the demon's most vicious curse.

Three years later, she arrived at my homeland with the kingdom's knights.

"Where is Lord Hero? I'm here to marry him."

The old man at the village entrance glanced at her:

"The Hero? He's been dead for a year now."

She froze.

Behind her, the knights who had served me loyally finally drew their swords.

"Your Highness, give us back our Hero!"

Seven days before the apocalypse, my vampire parents forced me to hand over three million to buy a house for my baby brother in full.

As an actuary, I knew that order would collapse in seven days and the money would become worthless. So I not only readily agreed, but also used their family's records as collateral to raise millions in high-interest loans, building an impregnable, top-secret fortress.

Seven days later, an unexpected change occurred.

The debt-collecting gangs and the endless horde of zombies drove them to the brink of despair. Meanwhile, I sat in a temperature-controlled safe house, sipping freshly ground coffee, calmly watching the cannibalistic karmic retribution unfold on the security camera.

In the apocalypse, there is no family affection, only the probability of survival.