4469 Book(s) Related to mated to my intended s enemy

After my mother remarried, my stepbrother Logan bullied me nonstop every day. I lived in constant agony, isolated and helpless, forced to endure all the abuse alone.
When I was close to giving up, Logan’s best friend Noah reached out to me. He was sweet and caring, bringing me much-needed warmth. I latched onto him blindly, believing he was my only savior and my last ray of hope.
Yet his kindness was all a lie, a cruel trap planned by him and Logan. He gained my trust just to betray and hurt me. My last hope crumbled completely. Broken and devastated by their deception, I cut off all ties and left this painful place for good.

My fiancé, Nathan, always said that decisions shouldn't be based on closeness, but on urgency.
At a car crash scene, he rushed my best friend, Roxanne, to the hospital first because her cuts looked deeper. When my mother was dying of cancer, he gave her hard-won experimental medication to Roxanne’s mother instead, claiming her condition was more critical.
Time after time, I convinced myself he was just being fair. He was just being rational.
On Roxanne’s twenty-ninth birthday, she cried that her secret boyfriend had stood her up. I stayed behind to drink with her. Knowing Nathan was on his way to pick me up, I hid behind the sofa, planning to jump out and surprise him.
But when he pushed the door open and didn’t see me, he didn't look for me. He walked straight to Roxanne, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her fiercely.

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."

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 best friend Tiffany was obsessed with those novels where a mafia don spoils his woman rotten.

She was convinced she was the type of girl who could make a ruthless boss go soft, so she went after Vincent, the heir of a crime family, and got him.

His bodyguards, his dirty money, even the way he told her not to ask questions and just sit tight. She read all of it as devotion. And of course she had to drag me into it too, always with the same excuse: it was for my own good.

Last time around, her mess got me killed. Vincent's enemies mistook me for one of his people, and I died in a shootout that had nothing to do with me.

The second the blade opened my throat, all I could think about was her holding up a bloody knife, grinning, showing it off to me like a trophy.

"Margot, look. He gave me this. It means we're official now."

I remember feeling disgusted. I never thought that same knife would end up slitting my throat.

Blood pooled across the street while she hid in Vincent's arms, screaming, hands over her eyes. Later I heard her crying to someone, saying it wasn't her fault, that I just had bad luck.

I died inside her little romance fantasy. A nobody side character, wiped off the page without a second thought.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back to the afternoon it all started.

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 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.

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.

I once believed that my inability to bear children was my original sin.
So I endured my Alpha husband Ethan’s excessive favoritism toward our“old friend,” Lyra,
and swallowed the growing hatred of our adopted son, Lucas.

Until our eighth marking anniversary, when I obtained irrefutable proof—
Confirmed: Lyra is the biological mother of Lucas.

That very night, Lyra sent me a “family portrait” of the three of them.

Letter by letter, I typed my reply:
May the Moon Goddess bless you.

Ethan kicked the door open in fury.
Lucas called me a “bad mom.”

In that moment, my heart died—and with it came a strange calm.

I took out the long-sealed mate bond termination agreement and placed it on the table.

“I’ve already signed the last page,” I said evenly. “If you have any questions, my lawyer will contact you.”

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.

My marriage to Lucas was nothing but a cold-blooded mafia alliance. There was never any love between us.
His heart had always belonged to my best friend, Chloe. From the beginning to the end, I was never in his eyes.
And me? All I ever wanted was a sweet, honest love story of my own.
With his silent permission, I went looking for love online. But on the day I met my so-called online boyfriend for the first time, I was shoved into a lake and rescued by Chloe’s fiancé, Damon.
No one could have predicted that a man rumored to have no interest in women at all would react to me and me alone.
From that moment on, he caged me at his side and forced me to become his secret lover.
But this was never the kind of love I wanted. I still kept searching for something sweet, real, and truly mine.

Three months into their marriage, Stella Dawson had been diligently playing the role of a delicate, spoiled flower—pushing every button she could—until she finally drove the CEO to the brink of madness.
Alexander Sterling coldly tossed the divorce papers at her. "Let's get divorced."
Tears welled up in Stella's eyes, but inwardly, she was grinning from ear to ear. Good riddance to being the CEO's wife! I'm going back to being the richest woman alive!
Alexander was certain he’d never regret his decision.
That is, until he saw his ex-wife surrounded by admirers, amassing wealth, and dominating every industry she touched. Power players from all fields bowed before her, declaring, "Little sister, just say the word, and we’ll take down anyone who dares mess with you!"
Swallowing his pride, Alexander squeezed his way into the crowd of handsome men. "Sweetheart, I take it back. Let’s get back together."

"What is love!? Carmen did you just mention that!?" With his speaking of rage and burning in anger; he asked.

"Yes... I have always do— I love you" she mouthed with her words stressed.

"You can try and ignore me if you can... Only if you know how eager I am and how badly I want to tame you". With those promising words from her which left a dark creepy smile on her face; she walked out.

"Love did she just call it? Did she think I will fall for that shit? If only she knew how much love is a weakness to every man". He muttered to himself as he sat down worriedly.

As a mafia boss, he must not have compassion nor can he fall in love.

She is the only one who have that fits to talks bravely to him. Even with his powers, his strength have it's limitations as it went down when he is before her.

He's fearless,
Dangerous,
And kills without a sparing a second to think!
He kills to live and lives to kill!
The smell of blood is what he enjoy most!!!

The dangerous man never forgives anyone even if it is blood—"fuck blood relatives when it comes to the smell of blood!"

He's not just all about dangers but handsome! He's a demigod and every ladies hopes for just a nightstand with him.

A girl sold to him by ruthless father and stepmother changed everything...

*She's annoying
*She's irresistible
*She's hot
*She's the goddess of beauty

What follows when she do the undo—...

She's a spy sent to monitor him, find his weakness and win his heart, will she accomplish that? Won't she fall in love in the process? What if the devil finds out?

I’m a werewolf.

Three months ago, I got involved in a back-alley “not my problem”—a man held a knife to a woman clutching her child. I rushed him and tore his throat out with my teeth.

Now the police are hunting me. My pack can’t protect me. The only option left is to slip out of the country.

The fixer at the meet hands me a bottle of “calming meds,” says it’ll get me through the checkpoints.

I smell the drugs anyway. I drink it.

When I wake up, my hands are tied behind my back inside a sealed metal cargo truck. Someone beside me is crying. Someone else is shaking.

That’s when I realize I’ve been sold into a trafficking ring. They slap a number tag on me, lock me in a steel cage, and wait for dawn to ship us out.

A guard cracks my face with a rifle stock—sure I’m just another desperate man trying to disappear.

He has no idea a cage can’t hold a werewolf.

Especially not tonight—under a full moon.

I endured in silence for five years, and everyone treated me like worthless trash. My wife sacrificed our daughter for vanity, my in-laws called me bottom-tier scum, and a senator wanted me dead to divide up my fortune. They thought I was just an ant they could trample at will. Until I produced the Supreme Commander's immunity medallion, until armed helicopters hovered above the courthouse, until I forcibly hijacked the national broadcast, they finally realized what kind of existence they had provoked. I am "Night Asura"—the one man in this world who should never be crossed.

At Nico's funeral, the screen of the phone in my hand suddenly lit up, and I accidentally answered a FaceTime call from the Dario Falcone of three years ago.
On the screen, he was still wearing that faded leather jacket, the scar above his brow left from protecting me.
He was still a penniless bodyguard, clutching my ultrasound report with barely contained excitement, his eyes shining:
"Vittoria, isn't our baby adorable?"
"Do you think it's a strong little boy or a beautiful little girl?"
"No matter who he takes after, I'll protect him with my life."
I knelt on the cold floor, staring silently at him.
The Dario from three years ago sensed that something was wrong. The smile slowly froze on his face.
The next second, the heavy church doors were kicked open.
The priest's prayer came to an abrupt stop.
The Dario of three years later, the terrifying Mafia Don, strode inside.
His tailored suit was immaculate, while the bodyguards behind him roughly knocked over the wreaths lining the aisle.
He stopped in front of me, his voice cold and utterly emotionless.
"Vittoria, you actually staged a fake funeral for your own son just to get revenge on Colette. You really are sick."
I didn't look up or acknowledge his fury. I simply stared at the bodyguard on the screen from three years ago, the one who looked utterly bewildered.
Then, numb, I turned the phone around and pointed it at the tiny white coffin in the center of the hall.
Looking at the screen, I answered the man's question from three years ago.
"A boy. He was adorable, and he had eyes just like yours."
"But he's already dead."

In their eyes, I’m a limping janitor who can’t even hold a cup of hot coffee steady.
The head of security can grind his polished boot on my fingers whenever he wants. The gorgeous CEO looks at me with pure disgust for a coward. Even the front desk girl can yell at me as she pleases.
I sprawl on the carpet like an old dog—stuttering, shrinking, obedient.
But they don’t know that if I wanted to, snapping their necks would take only 0.6 seconds.
Three years ago, I was the Seventh Fleet’s sharpest one-man operator. To uncover a cross-border money-laundering network worth tens of billions, I faked my death and lay low inside this filthy corporate empire, mopping floors for three years.
Until today—when that arrogant European mafia titan dropped to his knees in front of my dirty mop bucket, in full view of the entire company.
That’s when I knew.
Three years of disguise were finally about to be torn apart.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

Five years ago, my fiancée and a chaebol heir broke my ribs and threw me into the sewer like trash.

Five years later, they implanted a neurotoxin bomb into the back of my sister's neck, forcing me on all fours to crawl between the security guards' legs into their engagement banquet at a Manhattan penthouse hotel.

My ex-fiancée poured champagne over my wounds, while the chaebol heir ground caviar into the muddy water with his leather shoes, forcing me to lick it clean like a dog.

The room full of Wall Street elites laughed at my humiliation, thinking I was still the same bottom-tier temp worker from back then.

They had no idea that through my micro-earpiece, a heavy armored division was already on standby under the cover of night.

When the confirmation came that the bomb had been defused, I slowly stood up straight.

Outside the window, engines roared. Ten heavy Black Hawk helicopters tore through the curtain of rain, their heavy machine guns instantly shattering the banquet hall's reinforced glass.

Looking down at the chaebol heir who was now slumped in the muddy water, I drew my sidearm: "The debt from five years ago—today, I'm collecting it with your family's lives."

It was my fourth time putting on a wedding dress.

To protect myself against my own parents, I hired a ten-man security detail.

I specifically chose the most isolated chapel in the suburbs.

Because at my first three weddings, they acted like absolute maniacs—destroying my rings and making me a complete laughingstock in front of everyone.

I just couldn't understand what kind of parents would do such a thing.

This time, I actually thought I could finally marry Liam in peace.

Until the bridal suite door was kicked open.

And my dad, once again, snatched my diamond ring away.

I was once the supreme ruler of the global underworld, stepping down from my throne just to cook hot meals for my daughter. Yet, my arrogant brother-in-law mistook my silence for weakness. He smashed my home, tried to hand my wife over to a Mafia Don for his own career, and even stole my Black-Gold Skull Coin as a tribute!
Fine. You want to play? I'll grant your wish.
With a single keystroke, I initiated the DEFCON-1 combat protocol. Instantly, one hundred thousand of the world’s most elite mercenaries went berserk, locking down the entirety of New York City!

They don’t know I’m a girl.

They all look at me and see a boy. A prince.

Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires.

And, when they storm into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervene to protect her. I make them take me too.

The plan is to escape with my sister whenever we find a chance.

How am I to know our prison will be the most fortified place in their kingdom?

I’m supposed to stay on the sidelines. The one they have no real use for. The one they never mean to buy.

But then, the most important person in their savage land—their ruthless beast king—takes an interest in the “pretty little prince.”

How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy?

And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is a dark romance—dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+.

Expect triggers, expect hardcore.

If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in!

"Do not dare pretend you didn't pray hard to be our mate so you can live in wealth and luxury, human!" one of the mighty angel Kings snaps in disgust.
"I measure the quality of a man by his hardwork. Have you worked hard for this wealth, your majesty?" I boldly ask and hear the servants and guards in the room gasp in shock.


The angel kings of Lordsland, considered the most flawless of beings, had hoped that they would have a useful mate, like the graceful princess of the neighboring kingdom, especially now that the kingdom is facing the greatest crisis.
Attacks by Rogue dragons are becoming more and more frequent, their kingdom could use the help of another army. They are utterly disgusted when a human of no royal blood, Ira, turns out to be their mate. They demand that a special ritual be performed to transfer the mate bond to the woman they truly desire. What they doesn't know is that despite Ira being a human, she hails from a special bloodline. She isn't just the bravest and kindest woman across all kingdoms, she also possess rare blood, the only thing that can control rogue dragons and wipe away every magical spell cast against their reign.
Everyone is surprised by Ira's careless reaction to their rejection. Any woman would have knelt and begged to be their cherished queen. But Ira believes that only a kind man with genuine love for her is worth her tears. She also knows that the Angel Kings are making a huge mistake by choosing the pretentious Princess over her.

They said a perfect luna should be gentle, obedient, and tolerant of everything.
My husband, Alpha Cedric Blackwood, said that as his luna, I had to be virtuous and generous, and I had to take good care of his "little woloves."
If anyone was led astray, it meant I, as luna, had failed to set a proper example, and I had to be punished in their place.
And so, when his adopted sister, newly graduated from Crescent Moon Academy, ran off to party at a bar and stayed out all night, I was ordered to wash clothes for the entire pack in the bitter winter cold until my hands were covered in frostbite.
When his little lover chased thrills and went alone to the border, drawing rogues to her, I was punished for poor discipline with ninety-nine lashes from a silver whip, beaten so badly that my wolf fell into a deep sleep.
When the two of them grew bored with life, went traveling together, and even stole my unlimited black card, they had barely left before their wild spending drew the attention of an enemy pack and got them kidnapped.
The news that Cedric had spent fifty million to ransom the two women was exposed, turning the Blackwood family into a laughingstock across the werewolf world.
The elders were furious and demanded that the matter be dealt with severely.
Cedric's face darkened. Then he turned around and ordered someone to tie me up.
"You knew they were young, naive, and easy to deceive, yet you deliberately gave them the black card. Weren't you trying to attract the enemy pack's attention so they would get rid of the thorns in your side?"
"A vicious, jealous she-wolf like you deserves to taste what it feels like to be kidnapped and tortured!"
But he did not know that on the first night after I was taken away, I was tortured to death.

After Martina Martinez and Benjamin Walker's breakup, paparazzi captured photos of the business tycoon entering the Walker family mansion with a mysterious woman late at night.

This caused a stir, and this wealthy family was bombarded by various media outlets.

During a phone interview, the gossip reporter asked, "Miss Martinez, how do you feel now that Mr. Walker has a new girlfriend?"

Martina held her painful forehead and looked towards Benjamin, who was adjusting his suit by the floor-to-ceiling window. He gestured for her to come over and help him with his tie.

Holding her phone, Martina responded, "It's... complicated!"

The reporter's heart leaped with joy and asked, "Is it heartbroken?!"

Martina was about to nod, but Benjamin raised his eyebrows and took her phone away.

His deep and alluring voice was heard on the other end of the line, "New girlfriend? Whose?"

Harper spent ten years as Joel's perfect girlfriend... until he dumped her to boost his brand. Now Joel's getting married, and Harper's crashing his wedding on the arm of Crew Lawson, the one player Joel hates most. It's supposed to be fake: three months of PR revenge. But Crew's hiding a dangerous addiction, Harper's hiding real feelings, and Joel's hiding the truth about why he really left. Some fake relationships burn too hot to stay pretending.

He grabbed my hair and dragged me downstairs. His grip on my hands and feet ached terribly. I sobbed and wept, silent tears streaming down my face. I was powerless to break free, my left hand clutching my broken right wrist.

He was a beast inhabiting this mansion, inflicting inhuman torture on my poor soul. He had created a living hell for me, this pitiful girl, within his castle.

On this cold winter night, he threw my wounded body into the icy pool, arrogantly enjoying it all, drinking and smoking expensive cigars. A satisfied, cold smile played on his lips as he reveled in my pain. His face was filled with the darkness of sin.

“How...more...am I…still…standing?” I stammered, my lips trembling.

Zain paused, thinking. Then, turning away from her, he replied:

“Until you die!”

With that, he left. As he wished. At that moment, my wish came true; I died.

But not in a frozen pool; I was struck in the head by a bullet from afar, blood splattering everywhere—that was far more gruesome.

My consciousness began to fade, but suddenly, I opened my eyes again and found myself mopping the floor in an ordinary restaurant.

I was startled: What happened? I was reborn? This is unbelievable!

At thirty-five, I finally die— only to wake up as Isabella Montague, the stunning heroine of a fantasy novel I wrote as a stupid teen.

My plan? A world-class retirement involving heavy naps and bottomless snacks.

But the 'perfect' men I created are ruining the plan.

The brooding Northern Duke won't stop watching me. The Golden Prince is convinced my disinterest is actually a challenge. My knight—and best friend—is ready to burn the world down if I so much as yawn. And a certain Elven noble who swore off humans keeps finding excuses to be near my tea.

They want my heart. I just want my pillow.

Too bad the world is cursed, the Queen wants me dead, and everyone keeps trying to put me on a throne I never asked for.

Can't a girl just chill?

Lydia's POV

"The patient in Bed 7 has been here three months now, right? Not a single family visit."

"Her husband just pays the bills and leaves. Doesn't even look at her. Poor thing."

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to two nurses whispering outside my door. My fingers rested weakly against the edge of the mattress.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.

My husband, Sebastian Carter, came once. He stood in the doorway—didn't step inside—signed the papers with a blank expression, and never came back.

Sebastian was a writer. He locked himself in his study all day, leaving me to spend night after night alone in the living room. We lived under the same roof like strangers from different worlds.

I'd grown used to this hollow marriage. I didn't even bother calling him anymore.

Footsteps echoed outside.

I turned my head toward the door. Sebastian stood there in his familiar charcoal coat, his face expressionless.

"You came." I was surprised. I forced myself to sit up, my body weak and trembling.

Sebastian didn't answer. He walked straight to the bedside and set a document on the nightstand. "Sign it."

I picked it up. The words at the top read: 'Divorce Agreement.'

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

"Enough, Serafina! The thing rigged to the parasail is just a mannequin. It's not your mother! Cut the damn act!"

I watched helplessly as my severely ill mother plummeted from hundreds of feet in the air, smashing into the bone-chilling ocean.

My husband was holding my stepsister, a doting smile playing on his lips.

My own biological son clapped his hands in glee—because he was the one who had blindly pushed the release button.

They all said I was faking it. They said I was vicious, toxic, and jealous.

It wasn't until I erased every last trace of my existence and vanished entirely from their lives that they dug through the wreckage of our past like madmen, desperate to find me.

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

Three years ago, billionaire Theodore Chambers handed Victoria Ellis divorce papers with cold eyes and colder words—all for the sake of his first love, Isabella Waters.
Victoria didn't cry. She didn't beg.
She simply signed her name, walked out of that golden cage, and disappeared from the world of the rich.
What the world didn't expect…
Was for the discarded ex-wife to rise from the ashes—not as a socialite, but as the world's most sought-after reconstructive mortician. Behind every high-profile crime scene and closed casket, she was the one restoring dignity to the dead—and building a name powerful enough to shake law enforcement and the elite alike.
Now, at a funeral of all places, their paths cross again.
She stands beside another man, radiant, untouchable.
He watches in disbelief—his ex-wife, no longer his.
"You handle corpses every day. Aren't you afraid of bad luck?" he growls, grabbing her wrist.
She smiles coldly.
"In my heart, the grass over your grave has already grown two meters tall."
But fate has one final card to play.
When Victoria finds Theodore lying in a pool of blood, clutching an old photo of her, everything unravels.
Was it too late after all?
Or is love just another body she's not willing to reconstruct?

Last time, she chased the “true love” a corporate spy sold her—publicly branded me controlling, stole my core tech, and helped him shove me off a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t expose her, didn’t confront her, and didn’t beg her to stay. I set the trap—watched her come close again, test my limits, and steal the “core technology”…

Until the stolen code blew up the rival company, until she was unmasked in front of the cameras and taken away in handcuffs.

Through tears, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner he was a corporate spy?”

I answered only, “I did. Last life.”

"You're pathetic." Sophia's manicured nails dug into my shoulder. "A wolfless freak who thinks she can fight back?"

The storage room door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

My inhaler was in my locker. My lungs seized. Darkness crept in.

"Help..." I wheezed. "Please..."

But they were already walking away, laughing.

Lynette, the most feared Alpha in the Canadian territories who ruled through blood and ice, dies in an ambush—only to wake up as Elara Grey, a seventeen-year-old wolfless Omega who just suffocated to death from bullying.

The original Elara's life was pure torment. Humiliated by golden boy Blythe Harrison and his girlfriend Sophia Reign, then left to die gasping in a locked room. But that's not the worst part her family faces:

"Your adorable little family," the scarred mercenary held up their photo. "The black market's offering a million for you, Lynette. But them? They're just a bonus. I'll make sure they suffer as well."

Now Lynette's lethal instincts awaken in this fragile, asthmatic body.

She'll protect this family and destroy everyone who dared to hurt them—one brutal lesson at a time.

Katia was the pack's shadow. Overlooked, neglected, and crushed beneath her elder sister's prophecy-blessed glory. Wrongfully accused of pushing her sister off a cliff, she became the pack's most hated sinner.
Tormented by her cruel father and bullied by her own brother, she endured endless beatings and humiliation. She decided to flee from the hellish territory, desperate to grasp a slim chance of freedom.
Her escape ended in failure. She was dragged back cruelly, demoted to an omega, disowned by her family, and trapped in endless suffering. To make matters worse, she was bound to Alpha Xandar. He rejected her as his fated mate, and the agony of rejection caused her to lose her wolf.
Trapped in endless darkness and brutal oppression, she fell into complete despair, waiting to be sent to the Mad King's brutal fighting pits to end her miserable life.
Yet fate wove an irreversible cruel destiny for her.
When the terrifying bloodthirsty Mad King Cahir arrived to attend the grand ceremony, the man who was once her sister's fiancé instantly sensed Katia as his fated mate.
Cold-blooded, domineering and possessive, King Cahir branded his mark on her neck in everyone, binding the broken omega to his side.
Between the ex-mate who abused her relentlessly and the tyrant king who loves her madly, Katia is stuck in a dangerous emotional vortex.
Old grievances, pack conflicts, border disputes and the hidden truth behind her sister's fall gradually surface.
Power once lost begins to revive quietly inside her, and hidden secrets buried by the whole pack are about to see the light of day.
Rejected. Wronged. Abused. Favored by a tyrant king.
Can Katia break away from the fate arranged by others and avenge her grievances?
Most importantly, can she walk out of the shadow of pain, stand firmly beside the Mad King, and rewrite the destiny belonging only to herself?

Louis and Olivia were lovers for years. He proposed marriage to her, and she accepted and gave her virginity to him. When he discovered that she was pregnant, he became distraught and ended the relationship.
Afterward, Louis regretted and Olivia met someone better - Denise, Louis's brother.. Denise and Olivia fell in love and got married after a month. She conceived immediately and when she delivered a set of twins. Then, Louis came up to claim the children.
Arthur, Louis' father and Denise's uncle, a widower of thirteen years fell in love with Nichole, Denise's mother, and a widow. Their marriage strengthened the bond between the two families, but it brought a lot of hatred from the members of Bailey's family, who had eyes on Nichole and wished to marry her. This led to a secret plan to eliminate him and have Nichole by his cousin, Mr. Stephen Bailey.
Louis refused to love again. He opted for surgery for memory erasure, which failed. Cassandra, who loved him unconditionally, accepted to marry him but conceived through IVF because he would not sleep with her. She named the child Olivia to make him happy, but he was not. When she got tired of the unbalanced relationship, she opted for a divorce. Would Louis' life be empty because of one wrong step?

"And now, he's certain your life is over because he kicked you out. They're probably already placing bets on how long it will take for you to bow and beg at their feet to take you back. But..." He said coldly.

"But..." I breathed.

"Imagine suddenly returning with a husband so wealthy he makes them look like paupers. Not only is he filthy rich, but he's hopelessly in love with you, spoiling you rotten. Imagine their shock, their anger, and your satisfaction that you have exceeded their expectations. Won't that be fulfilling?"

"And... who would that husband be?" I whispered.

"Me." He grinned as he caressed my cheek. "Let's get married, my dear Iris."

••~•

After being humiliated and disowned on her wedding day, Iris is suddenly approached by Gordon Graff, the enigmatic and highly controversial billionaire and also her ex's uncle, who asks for her hand in marriage.

His goal: make her family and ex pay for everything they've done to her.

But what happens when the line between pretence and true love begins to blur, and dangerous secrets begin to unfold?

Will the man who has promised to protect her be her doom? And will she be a casualty in his dangerous game of revenge?

To help her husband build his business empire, Veyra worked two jobs, skipped meals, and sacrificed everything she had. When her mother desperately needed life-saving treatment, she couldn't even scrape together the money.
Then, on a New Year's Eve flight, fate seated her beside her husband's mistress. That's when she discovered the cruel truth.
Her husband had secretly amassed millions long ago. The wedding ring that belonged to Veyra now glittered on another woman's finger. The $500,000 that could have saved her mother's life had been spent instead on luxury gifts and pocket money for his lover.
She lost her baby. She lost her mother. And finally, she lost every illusion about the man she'd loved for years.
After leaving the airport, Veyra walked into a bar, kissed the most dangerous-looking stranger she could find, and spent one reckless night in his arms. By sunrise, she disappeared without leaving so much as her name. She thought it was nothing more than a farewell to her broken past.
She was wrong.
The stranger was Dorian—the most powerful, mysterious billionaire in the business world.
Meanwhile, her cheating husband finally realized what he had thrown away. He begged on his knees, signed a postnuptial agreement worth billions, and swore he would give up everything if she would come back.
But just as Veyra began plotting to reclaim everything that had been stolen from her, a mysterious car accident brought Dorian back into her life.
Only then did she learn the truth. He wasn't a stranger at all. He was her ex-husband's older stepbrother.
Now two powerful men are fighting for the same woman—one consumed by regret, the other determined to make her his.
Sorry, cheating ex... I choose your brother.

After three years of a secret marriage, my husband refused to pay for a life-saving surgery—
yet spent a fortune on another woman.

I filed for divorce.

He thought I would come back, broken and begging.

Instead, I picked up my scalpel again.

While my ex-husband looked down on me, I saved countless lives.

When my breakthrough medicine won an international award,
and the world’s richest man proposed to me,
my ex-husband finally lost his mind—
showing up at my proposal ceremony too late to stop anything.

“You can stand there and deny it all you want,” he said huskily in my ear. “But I know how drenched you were that night. Your tight little p*ssy? It was calling my name, baby.”

“You’re insane! I never wanted you!” I gritted out, hating how weak I sounded. Hating how my arms suddenly didn’t have the strength to push him away.

How there was a part of me that truly wanted him, despite everything.

“Keep denying it,” he murmured, eyes darkening. “It just makes me more eager to bend you over my desk and f*ck that attitude right out of you.”


When executive assistant Alice Rhodes sent her arrogant and insufferable boss, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne, a sext during the company’s New Year’s party, her life turned completely upside down.

She lost everything: her fiancé, her family, and her best friend, all because of one embarrassing mistake. To make matters worse, Theodore seemed incapable of staying away from her, and Alice was horrified to realize that the feeling was slowly starting to become mutual.

But this attraction between them came at a price. Alice and Theodore came from two completely different worlds. Their attraction was forbidden and frowned upon by everyone around them. Would their love survive vengeful exes, juicy scandals, hidden secrets, and unexpected surprises?

After years of marriage, my husband and son never once treated me like I mattered.
In their eyes, there was only another woman.
When I heard them talking about abandoning me again, I finally hit my limit.
So I asked for a divorce.
From that day on, I lived for myself—and myself alone.