4222 Book(s) Related to for my abandoned love novel spoiler

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.”

I never thought my own Fated Mate—Nico Smith—would sit right in front of me and casually talk in German about all the intimate details between him and his foster sister. He really thought I couldn’t understand German.
That night was supposed to be a celebration of his victory at the werewolf training camp. I stood by his side, smiling. Then I heard him joking with his buddies about what he and Nora did in bed, his tone relaxed, unashamed. I was sitting right next to him, and he still kept talking, lips brushing mine like nothing was wrong.
At that moment I finally realized: the man I married—the one who promised he would belong to me and only me—had been using our marriage as a cover, while hiding a forbidden relationship with his foster sister behind my back.
I used to think I knew Nico. But the side of him I saw that night was a stranger.

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.”

Three years ago, I exhausted everything I had in the Abyss Game to save my critically ill wife.
Three years later, my wife and her lover became an inseparable pair in the Abyss Game. To save their own lives, they used my only sister as a substitute, sending her to a dangerous situation where she was devoured by ghouls.
They thought I had lost everything and could be humiliated at will.
But when I chose to accept becoming the master of the Abyss Game, why did they suddenly kneel down and beg for mercy?

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

I’m the CEO of a tech company—and the creator of our bionic human project.

Three years ago, my wife was dying after a car crash. She begged me to “save” her with my technology. I said yes.

I poured over a hundred million into R&D and built her a bionic body that could last for decades. I covered every checkup, every calibration, every outrageous repair bill.

What I got back was her contempt, her affair, and her reckless abuse of the body I gave her.

I warned her again and again to protect it. She called it control—and called another man freedom.

She even slammed my head into a coffee table to shield him.

That was the moment I decided: no more repairs, no more payments.

She chose her path. She pays for it.

To pay off my father’s debt, I married a wheelchair-bound vampire duke’s heir.
He couldn’t hear me or answer, so I told him everything—my heartbreaks, humiliations, and deepest secrets.
I thought no one would ever know.
Then one morning, he regained his hearing and asked, “Who did you say you had a crush on last night? Say it again.”

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

“Sheridan, Link gave me hope to live this past year. I’m pregnant with his child now. He’s been malnourished since he was a baby. Could you be a little more generous and give him half of your food?”

"To quell the rumors, give him the commander's authority as well! Consider it proof of your tolerance, and that way everyone will accept our family of three!"

Looking at my fiancée, who was heavily pregnant and had a saintly glow on her face, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

Five years of entrusting each other with life and death have resulted in this scene.

Alright, I'll grant your wish.

Without arguing or making a scene, I readily signed the power transfer agreement, removed my epaulets, and walked without looking back into the underground forbidden zone that everyone feared.

There, a crazy witch with a morbid possessiveness toward me is imprisoned.

Sylvia thought that after I relinquished power, I would only be able to kneel in the mud like a stray dog and watch them be affectionate.

But she had no idea that I was the one who had the safety net for her throughout the entire city!

After losing my protection, the system completely crashed within a few days.

That freeloader completely dropped his pretense, not only beating her half to death with domestic violence, but also attempting to invade her private space.

When she crawled to the gate of the restricted area covered in blood, crying and begging me for forgiveness and to save her life.

I was being held in the arms of that aloof witch, watching the pretty boy who had come looking for me:

"The experiment actually spoke, darling..."

Beta Malcolm and I were at the Civil Affairs Bureau, ready to register our marriage. We were just waiting to take the final photo when he got a phone call and left.
He abandoned me right there at the marriage registration office, leaving me stuck in an impossible situation.
I called him—no answer.
I messaged him—no reply.
In the end, I had no choice but to call his childhood sweetheart’s number. Beta Malcolm answered.
“Rowena, can you stop being so annoying? Queenie twisted her ankle—I need to take care of her today. Stop calling and waking her up. We’ll reschedule the registration.”
I bit my lip and murmured into the phone,
“This makes it the seventh time we’ve rescheduled.”
“So what? The Civil Affairs Bureau isn’t going anywhere—it’s not like it’s going to disappear!”
My face was blank, but it felt like my heart was being carved open.
A staff member looked at me with pity and asked,
“Alpha Rowena, are we still doing this?”
I gave a small nod.
“Yes. Let’s go through with it.”

On our twentieth wedding anniversary, I caught my husband, Carter, cheating with our adopted daughter, Ava. My mother threw herself in front of me, and died under Carter's gun.
I had my anterior temporal lobe removed by Carter and lost my memory, then I was framed as the murderer who shot my mother and was wrongly imprisoned for four years.
I clung to his 'affection and loyalty' like it was salvation.
After I got out, I lived in hell-guilt for 'killing' my mother. I suffered severe depression and became addicted to self-harm, yet never realized it was all his design.
By the third year after my release, I overheard Carter and my therapist talking; I knew the truth:
he erased my memory and used drugs and hypnosis to trap me in pain.
It was only because he fell in love with our 16-year-old adopted daughter at the age of 40 that he would stop at nothing to cover up his crime.
Under hypnosis, I finally saw it clearly: the person who pulled the trigger that night was Ava.

With her husband feeling more like a distant roommate, Nikki, an ex-college soccer player, knows there's more out there for her but scared to leave the comfort of her normal, usual, secure life. One night, during a massive storm, lightening strikes as a new player, Shane, joins her team. The second their eyes meet, time stops. She knows this person has always lived in her heart and soul. What is this feeling? It's illogical, it's fantasy, it's supported by all of the physical evidence you could throw in front of her. What the hell even is a soul mate, anyways? There's only one way to find out without actually having to interact with the dark haired stranger in real life...inviting him to dream with her. Will he join her?

I was frozen for 100 years due to illness.
One hundred years later, the whole world was ravaged by strange phenomena, and humanity was huddled together in a few small places to survive.
I was awakened from my slumber by the investigation team. I thought I would be killed by the monster as soon as I woke up, but I found that the monster here was my good brother from college.
Besides him, the eerie owner of the barbecue restaurant, the matchmaking ghost who likes to harm people through blind dates, the S-class monstrous ghost in the cemetery... they are all my old friends...
The world a hundred years from now feels strangely familiar...

My fiancée and best friend, whom I risked my life to protect, sold me to the brutal "Blood Blade Gang . "
They laughed as they watched me being kicked into a pool of radioactive waste like a dog, waiting for me to turn into a pile of bones.
But they didn't know that the deadly radiation not only failed to melt me, but also forcibly ruptured my genetic lock, awakening the [Nuclear Fury].
I rode back to the old camp in her heavily armored vehicle.
Those two scoundrels were still arrogantly bullying me: "I have the Blood Blade Gang backing me! The big shots are coming soon, you're dead!"
I sneered and slapped them away.
Idiots, look back! Your so-called powerful backer is kneeling in the vehicle, lighting my cigarette.

Before the apocalypse hit, my ex-girlfriend called me, laughing like a maniac: "Jack, you pathetic loser—still playing that stupid farming game? Gonna whack zombies with a hoe? Open the door right now, get on your knees, and beg us, and maybe we'll throw you some table scraps."
I listened to the faint scrape of a tactical knife being drawn on the other end of the line, and silently glanced at my computer screen—at the maxed-out Greenfield Manor game, with its gold cap glowing at [999,999,999] .
"You misheard." I dropped my voice, lacing it with just the right amount of embarrassment. "I was checking the weather forecast."
The other end erupted in unrestrained laughter: "Then forecast this—how you're gonna die today!"
I hung up without changing my expression, flipped open the system, and spent a million on the [Absolute Defense Shield] —then brought out a steaming plate of roasted meat.
Forecast?
I forecast that tonight, you'll be gnawed down to bare bones by zombies.

In my previous life, an extreme cold apocalypse descended.

I risked my life nine times over to evolve into a high-tier Ice Plains Wolf, and just to find a piece of meat to keep my fiancée alive, I frantically tore apart wild beasts in the snow. Yet I was betrayed by her and her lover—they cut out my heart with an ice blade!

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn half a month before the apocalypse!

Time was running out. To awaken the highest tier of beast-human form, I needed an enormous amount of meat to provide energy.

Sports cars? Ocean-view villas? Billions in assets? I wanted none of it!

I immediately dumped my manipulative fiancée, liquidated all my assets into cash, bought a fully enclosed fortified meat processing plant, and frantically stockpiled hundreds of thousands of tons of high-calorie raw meat!

The extreme cold arrived as expected, turning the entire city into a frozen hellscape.

The scumbag pair who betrayed me in my previous life now knelt outside my impregnable airlock door, crying pitifully and begging me for scraps.

I stepped out of my fortress and looked down at them with claws sharp enough to tear through steel:

"Want meat? Go to hell and eat dirt!"

At the Moonshadow Council, my fiancé knelt before the throne with his new lover and asked permission to marry her—while keeping me as his nameless second mate.

He mocked me for having no parents and no family, claiming that if I left the Silver Fir Pack, I would not even have a place to sleep.

I removed my engagement ring and looked toward the throne. No one knew that the Lycan King seated above us was my own brother—the brother who had entered this world with me.

And my brother had already set down his goblet.

“Are you certain you want to treat her this way?”

I was never supposed to exist in the Blood Moon Pack, low-born, no surname, no family to shield me.
Yet the Alpha chose me and called me “his one and only mate for this lifetime”.
He said he loved me.
So I endured. I stepped back. I forgave him again and again.
Until the day I was pushed down the stairs, dragged into the punishment grounds, strapped to an electric restraint bed, and heard them calmly discussing how far they should go this time; what kind of punishment would finally make the “real family” feel at ease?
That was when I understood in their world, I wasn’t a mate. I wasn’t family. I wasn’t even seen as a person. I was just a bargaining chip, but something disposable, something meant to be sacrificed when convenient.
So I learned to stay quiet, to remember everything, and to wait.
They thought I died in that fire.
But when I stepped back into the moonlight, I was no longer an Omega.

My mate—Alpha Jasper—knelt on one knee, proposing to me at my birthday party when Sienna Burrows suddenly appeared.
She was his fated mate once. His first love.
Dressed in the exact same backless red gown I was wearing, she stood there like a queen, regal and untouchable.
She let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Hah. Alpha Jasper, no matter how perfect a copy may be, it will never be me."
Alpha Jasper didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he turned to me, gently taking my left hand in his. His voice was deep, filled with emotion.
"Cynthia, will you marry me?"

I’m Leona, and I’ve hidden a forbidden love under the moonlight of the werewolf world for nine long years—an unspoken bond with my brother’s closest friend, Alpha Nick.
When he looked at me and said, “I’ll find someone better for you,” there was a flicker in his eyes I couldn’t read. But when he turned away, it was to chase after his ex-girlfriend, Selene, crashing through the forest branches like gravity itself answered her call. “His wolf never resonated with ours.” Aris, my wolf, howled inside me.“You’ve spent years trying to spark fire in frozen stone.”
And yet, I was the fool who mistook the instinct for fated love.
In my past life, when I was seven months pregnant and trapped beneath an avalanche during a winter patrol, he was tucked in a border cave listening to Selene sing ballads under moonlit stalactites.
When I was curled in pain from stomach ulcers, he was busy tuning her purification crystals.

She never saw it coming. After five years of marriage, it took a DNA test to blow everything up.

The son she raised from birth? Her husband's kid with his ex. And somehow, both of them knew the whole time and said nothing.

It gets worse. She overheard her husband's actual plan: wait for the ex to come back, then push her out of the company "nicely" and hand her five million as a goodbye gift.

Five million? She single-handedly kept that company alive, pouring in her own money and connections to clean up his messes. And that's all she's worth?

She was done. She wanted everything back that was hers.

The ungrateful kid? She's over it. The husband chasing his first love? Good riddance.

But the moment she walked away for real, both of them came running back.

"Baby, please. Just give me one more chance."

She didn't even look up.

“No. Mabel, I cannot lose you again. Since you’re back now, there is no need for me to marry her and I have to make sure you stay by my side at all times. I never loved her. I was only using her to grow this company. The vice president position of this company is yet to be filled. If you’re be my woman again, I’ll give it to you. Together, we can run this company. Together, we’ll be inseparable.” These were the words Daphne heard clearly from her soon-to-be husband. She had been stood up at the bridal shop only to watch her fiancé cradling another woman in his arms and professing his undying love for her. Devastated but strong-willed, she chose to move on but having the formidable heir, Marco King all over her wasn’t on her bingo card. Like they say, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

I was married to Vera for three years.

In those three years, every time we fought, I was the one who backed down first. She got used to being indulged, and she got used to using the silent treatment to make me fold.

Then a blizzard grounded my flight. I didn’t make it back for her birthday. She filed for divorce out of spite and left the country.

Three years ended without dignity.

A year after the divorce, Vera returned with a new jewelry brand and a high-profile comeback. Everyone assumed I was still waiting for her—she assumed it too.

At dinners, she hinted at reconciliation, using our old story to build hype for her brand. The circle started whispering that I’d end up back by her side.

I corrected it, again and again. She ignored every word.

What she didn’t know was that I already had someone new—and we were preparing to get engaged.

When she saw the engagement planning booklet, she convinced herself it was my signal to take her back.

I explained. She insisted.

Until the day of the engagement, when she stormed into the venue…

On our first wedding anniversary, I walked into my husband's office and found him having sex with my best friend.

He didn't even apologize. Instead, claiming he was disgusted that I hadn't produced an heir in a year of marriage, he threw divorce papers in my face.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my new husband—Cassian Vitiello, the Godfather of the North American underworld.

Vincent ran into me at the docks. He handed me a business card, offering me a job as a nanny for his mistress's son.

What he didn't know was that the woman he was mocking was now the Donna—the woman the entire East Coast underground feared.

My wife was forced to don a wedding dress to marry my sworn enemy, while my three-year-old daughter was locked in an iron cage suspended above the raging sea.

And I, the dignified Commander-in-Chief of the Blackwater Fleet, was forced to wear a dog collar, kneeling on broken glass and licking up red wine like a crippled stray dog.
All because embedded in their necks were biological bombs, the detonator held in the hands of my enemy.

The elites of the entire island ruthlessly mocked my cowardice, trampling me underfoot in ultimate humiliation.

That was until the climax of the maritime wedding, when my enemy smugly pressed the detonator, only for the collars to flash a safe green light—the full-frequency signal decryption was complete.
Amidst the dead silence of the crowd, I snapped the forged steel chains binding me and slowly stood tall.

The next second, ten nuclear-powered submarines violently breached the ocean surface, and tens of thousands of heavily armored death squads descended from the sky.

Looking at my enemy, now terrified to the point of incontinence and shattering his own knees to frantically kowtow and beg for mercy, I picked up that very dog chain and slipped it around his neck.

A zombie outbreak occurred, and my brother and I were both reborn ten minutes before the disaster struck.
This time, he seized the initiative, stealing the two high-level god-tier abilities, [Flame] and [Hardening], and casually pushed me out of the security door, locking me in the zombie-infested corridor.
Through the security door, he arrogantly declared, "In my past life, you always stood in front of me; in this life, I'll take the mark of survival."
In his eyes, the [Tracking] and [Preset] abilities the system assigned me were nothing but useless pieces of paper.
He thought I would die a horde of zombies.
But he didn't know that in the hands of a top hunter, seemingly useless skills could weave a hellish web that made life unbearable and death unthinkable.

On our wedding day, my fiancé gave the wedding dress I had made by hand to his sick sister—and let her marry into the DeLuca family in my place.
Everyone told me to give in because she was fragile, while I was strong enough to endure it.
That night, I walked away, revoked my access to the family, and left my mother’s atelier.
Later, his sister’s fake illness was exposed, and my fiancé got down on his knees, begging me to come back.
But I was no longer the woman who would sacrifice everything for them.

My wife is upstairs with another man—her first love.
But I don't want to fight about it.
I'm not staying here because of her.
Her father once saved my father's life. I'm here to repay that debt.
So they pushed even further.
She wants me to give way to her first love.
Give up my seat at dinner, my trust fund eligibility, my position as family consigliere, even our couple's travel tickets.
Fine. Have it your way.
I'm leaving to go back to being the Don I was meant to be.
Hope your family can survive the mafia wars without me.

"So, are you ready?" Lucia asked with a bright smile, her tone almost too cheerful.
"You remember everything, right? Isaac's favorite meal, Elias's schedule—"
"Yes, Maria, I remember everything," she cut in, rolling her eyes. "I stayed up all night memorizing and practicing it all."
The final toast was coming. After that, Lucia would take her place in the car…and Maria would disappear.
He runs a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing on his shoulders.
"You think I married you out of pity? You think I hate your silence? No. I hate that your silence keeps me locked out. That I love you… and you'll never hear it."
To the world, Maria is the perfect silent wife—beautiful, obedient, and deaf.
But behind closed doors, she hears everything, including the love her cold billionaire husband swears he'll never confess.
When she secretly trades places with her troubled twin, a web of lies, danger, and forbidden truths unravels.
He thinks he's lost the only woman he's ever loved.
She may never make it back to him alive.
A marriage built on silence.
A love louder than words.
And a secret that could destroy them both.

She built a quiet life from the wreckage of a marriage that nearly swallowed her whole. A bakery. A hidden talent for art. And a son she loves more than breathing. At forty, Corinna Adler is composed, grounded, but devastatingly unsated, starved and untouched.

One night was supposed to fix that.

One anonymous night at Obscura, the city's most secretive underground club with a man whose hands knew things about her body she had forgotten were possible. Young, commanding, and patient. The kind of man Corinna would unfortunately, never forget.

Because the morning after, he re-introduces himself into her reality in a way she never sees coming.

Do all men lose interest in their wives after marriage?

We’ve been married for five years, and he never touched me.

At first he said he wasn’t well, so I was understanding. Later he recovered, but still kept me far away.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my sister came in for a check-up, clearly pregnant with his child.

The truth hit me hard: he wasn’t incapable. He was just incapable with me.

I drew up the divorce papers, ready to end this empty marriage.

On the reason for divorce, I wrote with my own hand:

“Male sexual dysfunction; no marital relations in five years.”

He only smiled coldly when he saw it.

A week later, in the urology clinic.

I put on my medical gloves, looked at him, and said calmly:

“Sir, will you undress yourself, or shall I help you?”

His disapproval didn’t take away my confidence.

I still embraced better things in my career and love life!

But his life started to be filled with one accident after another.

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

Reborn seven days before the zombie siege, Shen Lie returns to the day he was tricked into a deadly dark web live stream. Betrayed by his wife and trapped as prey for global wealthy viewers, he uses his stunt skills to layout a counter-kill plan, turning every hunter into the hunted and exposing the bloody evil behind the apocalypse game.

My ex and I used to live inside a romance movie.

She was the heroine’s best friend. I was the hero’s loyal sidekick. When the leads got their happy ending, we—the two “extras”—ended up together like an afterthought.

Then the credits rolled, and real life didn’t. The heroine died in a car crash, the hero fell apart, and my girlfriend chose that moment to leave me.

She said she was done being a supporting role. She wanted the spotlight—she wanted the heroine’s place.

I didn’t beg. I left the city alone and started over from nothing.

Five years later, I returned with my own company group—and ran into her again at a charity gala.

She still looked flawless, moving through the room of power and money, keeping up the image of success. She assumed I was still the same guy trailing behind someone else, and she spoke to me with that familiar, pitying superiority—offering to “help” me back into the circle.

Until the lights dimmed, and the host read my name with respectful clarity, inviting me to the stage.

That was when she realized the gala’s biggest sponsor was me—and the “sidekick” she thought she’d left behind was now someone she could never reach again.

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

After being reborn,
I immediately rushed to my adoptive mother who was conducting an experiment,
bit a piece of flesh off her,
and then turned to my younger sister standing beside her,
splashing her face with foul-smelling dog urine.
After being restrained,
I listened to them screaming that I had gone mad with rabies.
I pretended to be insane on the surface,
just to be smoothly sent to a rehabilitation center.
In my previous life, just as my experiment was about to succeed,
the laboratory exploded.
My adoptive mother and younger sister shifted all the blame onto me,
causing me to be killed by enraged family members.
This time,
with no one to take the fall for them,
I'll see how they manage to get away with it.

What is fate? Waking up three days after you rejected your fated mates in front of the entire school, with the memories of your husband's betrayal still burning in your chest? Or finding out that the only way to save your empire is to compete for love on national television—against the man who murdered you?

Make your pick.

Odessa Montgomery died at thirty—cheated on, poisoned, and blown to pieces by the husband she trusted. Then she opened her eyes at twenty-one, three days after the mating gala where she publicly rejected the De Luca triplets. The rejection is still fresh. The whole school is still talking. And Damien Gracias, her charming hockey-star boyfriend, has no idea she remembers every lie he ever told her.

She dumps him. Publicly. Brutally. But freedom comes at a cost. Her grandfather's will is clear: find a mate or lose the Montgomery empire. With Damien out and the De Luca triplets—her humiliated fated mates—lurking in her past, her options are nothing.

Then comes Moonlit Bonds, a televised competition where unmated shifters compete for love and a life-changing prize. Win, and her inheritance is hers. Lose, and lose everything.

There's just one problem. Damien and his true mate, Sarah, have joined the show, hoping to legitimize their bond on camera. And the De Luca triplets are also contestants—three alphas she rejected, two who bullied her, and one who has never stopped watching.

Now Odessa is trapped in a villa with cameras in every corner, a public audience that votes on her fate, and enemies who want her dead.

She came to win.

She might just find revenge.

But falling for the enemy? That was never part of the plan.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

The End Times Came, and I Awakened the Ability to Grow Vegetables

Every time I catalyzed a vegetable, it drained my stamina and life force.

But my sister Lucy needs to eat, and everyone in the camp needs to eat.

So I gave my life to the soil, exchanging life for food again and again.

Cult leader Silas patted my shoulder and said I was God's gardener, that Eden was born because of me.

I thought I had found a home.

I distributed the vegetables I grew to everyone in the camp.

Until I discovered the blue-green veins on my sister's arm.

Until I discovered that the bottle of "holy water" I fed her every day wasn't medicine at all.

Until I discovered that my sister had been sent to their altar.

I am a hero. The saint's husband.
A country boy chosen by the temple.
I fight, I fight, I fight.
All for the saint, for the temple.
But it wasn't until I was drained of blood and dying on the altar that I finally heard clearly what the saint and her childhood sweetheart were saying:
"If you become a hero and marry the saint, you'll have to surrender your soul to the temple. I don't want you to lose your soul."
"Then let's just find some country boy to be the hero. It won't matter if he dies."
Oh, so that's how it is.
You should have said so earlier.
I can defeat the Demon Lord just fine without the saint.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the wedding ceremony.
This time, someone else should be on the altar.

At the parents' meeting, the daughter's diary was read aloud: "My father is the Grand Duke of the Night."
The room erupted in laughter.
The mentor, disregarding her daughter's dignity, tore up her diary, while the nouveau riche woman advised me , a liar, to "get out of this neighborhood."
I didn't say anything, I just stood up. Then, their knees were all shattered.

I have guarded the Abyss on the Ashen Plains for a thousand years.

My daily routine: chewing rock-hard rye bread, single-handedly crushing the skulls of trespassing demons, wiping their slime off on a ragged surcoat, and leaning against a bronze pillar to catch the wind.

Today, a dying girl stumbled into the wasteland. Her fingers were locked in a death grip around the bloodstained iron crest I had left behind a millennium ago. Up on the ridge, three hundred heavy cavalrymen of the Alliance drew their lances, forming a wall of steel as they closed in.

I stared at the blood on the ground. I didn't make a sound.

I just brushed the biscuit crumbs off my lap and stretched my stiff neck. Turning around, my fingers hooked onto the hilt of a rust-eaten battleaxe resting beneath the bronze pillar. I dragged it along with casual ease.

"Troublesome."

I muttered that single word, and walked alone toward the formation of steel.

"We are denying coverage for your father's surgery. You can either pay the $240,000 out of pocket, or wait for him to be paralyzed for the rest of his life."
My father was critically injured, the insurance company denied the claim, and the regional director arrogantly threw the denial letter in my face.
I gave a cold sneer and backhandedly slapped my Juris Doctor (JD) dissertation on his desk.

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...