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When I uncovered Brody’s betrayal, I wasn’t shocked. What floored me was that his mistress was his own aunt, Gwendolyn. I stubbed out my cigarette and said coolly, "How about we dissolve the mate bond, then you can be with her?" His eyes filled with tears, and he dropped to his knees, swearing they were just close and promising to cut ties with her. I believed him and decided to give him another shot. That lasted until the pack gathering at his father’s territory, when Gwendolyn walked in carrying a child. "Alpha Brody, can you really stand to abandon your son and me?" His grip tightened on my wrist, his face a mix of turmoil and struggle. I forced a smile, peeling his fingers off one by one, and advised calmly, "Go on, nobody’s stopping you from being both uncle and father." "Lilly, the baby’s cries are breaking my heart. I’ll go check on him first; we’ll sort this out later." And with that, Brody ignored my feelings and, in front of the entire pack, went over to the mother and child. Gwendolyn even secretly pinched the child to make him cry louder. His father, Alpha Abraham, saw my reaction and quickly covered it with a cautious smile.

She was freed from death, only to become a servant in the King’s castle. Until one man saw her for who she truly was. Abbie never wanted to be saved. Because sometimes, survival feels like another kind of prison. When King Kyson intervened on the day of her execution, she was given a choice—become a servant in the Valkyrie Kingdom or be left to die at the hands of her alpha. She chose to live. But living has never felt so empty. Trapped in a castle that will never truly be her home, Abbie is haunted by her past, her trauma, and the scars no one else can see. Until Gannon—the King’s Gamma—sees her. Gannon is cold, unreadable, and terrifying. He is everything Abbie should fear. And yet, in his presence, she feels something she hasn’t in years. Safe. But safety is an illusion. Because when Abbie’s fated mate appears—a man who will stop at nothing to claim her—she must decide: Trust the man who terrifies her? Or submit to the one who swears she belongs to him? Sometimes, the worst mistake is choosing wrong.

The forest air carried the scent of blood and something else—something wrong. I stood frozen at the edge of the cliff, staring down at my sister's broken body. Winter lay twisted among the rocks below, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. My wolf clawed at my insides, howling that this wasn't right. "Accidental fall," Charles declared, his Alpha voice cutting through the murmurs of the pack gathered around us. "The hunt was dangerous. She must have lost her footing." But Winter was our best tracker. She knew these woods better than anyone. "Let me see her," I whispered, moving toward the edge where the pack healer was examining her body. "There's nothing to see, Luna." Charles's hand clamped around my upper arm, pulling me back.

To help my fiancé's tech startup, I poured my entire inheritance into his dream and even underwent ninety-nine humiliating hymen reconstruction surgeries to satisfy his bizarre fetish. But just one procedure away from our wedding, I overheard the truth. He called me his "cash cow" and the surgeries were just "pure theater" to lure in investors with a virgin fetish. He never loved me. He never even touched me. Instead, he drugged me with "protein shakes" to keep me compliant and paraded me in front of old perverts. His plan was to publicly humiliate me at the altar, expose my most private medical secrets, and then marry his childhood sweetheart, Kimberli. He was going to destroy me, dance on the ashes of my dignity, and leave me with nothing. But if he wanted a show, he was going to get one. Just not the one he planned. I picked up my phone and texted the one man I had blacklisted, the ruthless East Coast magnate Constantine Russell: "Crash my wedding. I need you."

, I am Colleen Hoover, and I am ready to write. This story will be an emotional surgery, raw and direct, for the American woman who craves that gut-wrenching, heart-healing journey. Let's begin. I married a man haunted by the ghost of his dead son. I gave him a new son, Leo, and foolishly believed our love could heal his shattered past. But then the ghost came back to life. His ex-wife, Georgia, returned with wide, innocent eyes and a diagnosis of trauma-induced amnesia. Suddenly, my husband was walking on eggshells around the woman who broke him, while our son and I became background noise in her twisted play. The day he chose her was the day he destroyed us. After Georgia framed our five-year-old for desecrating his dead brother's memorial, my husband, Calvin, snapped. He grabbed Leo's arm and twisted it until I heard a sickening pop. As I lay on the floor bleeding, I watched him cradle Georgia, whispering comforts while our son screamed in agony. Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine, filled not with confusion, but with pure, triumphant malice. He had made his choice. Now, I would make mine. My fingers, sticky with my own blood, dialed 911. "I need an ambulance," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "And I need the police."

I was just the decoration at the gala, the dutiful wife of Chicago's Underboss, Dante Moretti. Then my phone buzzed with a photo of his hand on another woman's thigh, taken inside the venue just minutes ago. I finally snapped, leaking the photo to the press to shame him. Dante dragged me home, pinned me to the sofa, and carved a thin line into my collarbone with a switchblade. "You don't get to leave until I say you're done," he warned. But the real devastation came later. An anonymous video file revealed the truth about my mother's "suicide" ten years ago. She didn't jump. My sister, Sofia, pushed her. And Dante? He didn't marry me for power. He brokered a deal with my father to cover up the murder and took me as hush money. I crashed Sofia's birthday party to expose them, but my father slapped me in front of everyone. Dante grabbed my fresh wound and forced me to my knees. "Apologize to your sister," he threatened, "or I bulldoze your mother's grave right now." I swallowed my pride, bowed my head, and apologized. But Sofia just laughed, pulled out a detonator, and pressed the button anyway. "Oops," she giggled as the explosion rocked the ground. "Happy birthday to me." Watching the smoke rise from my mother's destroyed mausoleum, the old Elena died. I vanished into the night, leaving behind signed divorce papers and my bloodied dress. When Dante finally tracked me down, I wasn't hiding in fear. I was standing next to his mortal enemy, Luca Rossi, wearing a massive diamond ring. I handed Dante a cream-colored envelope. "What is this?" he asked, his hands trembling. "An invitation," I said, my voice ice-cold. "To the wedding of Don Luca Rossi and Elena Vitiello."

Lyra gave her heart to the wrong man and her empire with it.As the founder of a top law firm, she trusted her husband with everything: her love, her company, and her future. But the man she built her world around betrayed her in the cruelest way, stealing her firm, framing her for fraud, and shattering her life with the woman she once called a friend.Just when she thought the worst was over, Lyra dies under suspicious circumstances, only to awaken one year before the betrayal.But this time, she is not the same woman.She is colder. Sharper. Unforgiving.And she is not alone.Three powerful billionaires enter her life. Vincent, a real estate mogul who has always loved her. Louis, a quiet tech genius with secrets of his own. And Christian, a charming hotel magnate with revenge in his eyes.They all want a piece of her.Three billionaires.Three offers.One woman who refuses to be the victim this time.Lyra was reborn not for mercy but for revenge.And now, it is her turn to decide who lives, who pays, and who gets close enough to love her.

'Spread those legs wide for me princess. I want to see that juicy hole of yours. I want to suck on this dripping pussy and I want to fuck you hard till you no longer feel your legs. This book contains high sexual content, it is not for readers younger than🔞. Clogged in the web of dissatisfaction I had always thought that I had a problem with being sexually satisfied, until I met the very man who I should never think of moaning to, he is my acting father Mr. Ignazio Vecenzo, Thompson. A sex machine who knew how to please my body and when exactly to stop. I had many plans for the day and none included moaning to the man I should call father, after bumping into him with his miraculous member sliding in and out of his hand, I found myself wishing to have him for just a day, however, my mind wind off to having him forever as his deft fingers found my clit, ripping moans off my throat, as no one has ever done. As lines fell pleasantly for me, I found myself moaning to him every single day taking his sexual command, being daddy's good girl, and wishing for nothing other than to have him buried deep inside of me. Navigating my way through so many obstacles, I realized that my lust for him had whirled into love and I was determined to keep him even if it meant going against the entire world. However he was not the good man I fell for, he was the monster I never knew existed, a killer Machine and a man who has so many darksides yet I crave him gravier than any other.. Again, this book contains high sexual content. Recommended for readers older than 18.

Mariana Pérez was married to Diego Rivas, the Alpha of one of the strongest packs in the area. He gave her everything she could ever want. But when Diego goes back to his ex, her perfect life is over and she is all alone. Mariana is having Diego's kids, which is a huge betrayal that hurts her very much. She only has her pride and a terrible secret left. Diego is surprised when his old girlfriend comes back into his life. He is a famous Alpha and business tycoon. He makes the biggest mistake by leaving Mariana and their possible future behind because of old feelings and a desire to go back to an old love. He doesn't know that his own family's history will make him think about Mariana's leaving for a long time. Diego's life changes completely when he finds out about the kids he never knew about years later. This news shakes up his family, his pack, and his own heart. Can he make up for the harm his proud decisions have caused? Is it too late for him to win back the woman's heart after he said no? Diego wants to get back what he lost, but Mariana has to decide whether to forgive the man who hurt her or keep the walls she has built around herself. Is it still possible to love and trust again, or has the betrayal gone too far? Diego and Mariana need to deal with their past before it destroys everything they've ever known. This intense, emotional roller coaster of love, betrayal, and rescue shows that.

Everyone whispered about how Alexander's aunt had forced him into marrying Freya. When the old woman passed and his former love drifted back into town, people watched closely and expected Freya to be brushed aside. Freya shrugged. "Truth be told, I am eager for that day to come." They mocked her for it. Yet everything flipped when Alexander posted something that spread like wildfire. "For everyone asking, I am not ending this marriage. Not now, not ever." Freya stared at the screen, puzzled. What was he trying to pull now?

For eight years, Riana Regalia played the perfect Luna. Loyal wife. Elegant hostess. The silent shadow behind the powerful Alpha Wesley Winters. When she walked down the aisle, it was for duty, not love. Her husband gave his heart to another, his fated mate, and her half-sister. Her own daughter grew to adore the woman who stole her place. *** The day she signed our divorce papers, she stopped hiding. The struggling fashion label he mocked? Now a global empire. The lonely Luna he had ignored became his most powerful rival. Alpha Wesley thought he was freeing himself from a gold-digger. He never imagined she'd become the number one threat to his empire. *** Now, he wants a second chance. His pack is in chaos. And his so-called fated mate is scrambling to salvage his reputation. But this Luna doesn't answer his calls anymore. She's too busy counting her billions. He underestimated the quiet wolf. Now the world will learn who the true Queen is.

Millie-Rose lost everything she'd worked for since the age of four in a single day; her career, her reputation, and the life she was about to marry into, when a test revealed she was pregnant... despite never being touched all her life. Scandal followed. Betrayal cut deep. And running became her only chance at survival. But there's one truth she can't outrun: the child she carries belongs to Alpha Braham, a werewolf king with power, patience, and a claim she never agreed to. She escaped the world. She rebuilt her life. But how will she escape him?

I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears. When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me. Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead. I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind. But I was completely wrong. My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron. My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman. My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density. They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me.

Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own. But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin. Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore. The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership. Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child. But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer. She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast. She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated. They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life. But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave. She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised. Estrella's soul had survived the abyss. "You're going to pay for every drop of blood." She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.

The stadium lights blazed like a thousand suns, and I stood in the VIP box with my hands gripped so tightly on the railing that my knuckles turned white. Ten years. Ten cities. Ten concerts. And tonight—the final show of Lane's "Decade Global Tour"—I'd told myself things would be different. Below me, eighty thousand fans screamed Lane's name, their voices merging into a deafening roar that vibrated through my chest. The stage glittered with pyrotechnics, and there he was—my husband, Lane Tucker—bathed in golden light, his voice soaring through the opening notes of "Endless." Our anniversary song. My throat tightened. I'd worn the burgundy dress he once said made me look like starlight. I'd arrived early, checked the setlist three times, coordinated with his team to ensure everything ran smoothly.

Greyson Hunt had just been promoted to Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. Instead of celebrating with me, his mate, he rushed back to our hometown, claiming he wanted to take me to the city to start a new life. But I knew better. He had something far more sinister in mind. The moon hung high in the sky as he led me to the edge of a roaring river, its waters dark and merciless. My hand instinctively went to my swollen belly, where our child rested. I took a step back, but there was nowhere to go—only the churning river behind me. "Kya," Greyson’s voice was cold, his eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. "This pup… it wasn’t meant to be." I stared at him, my heart pounding. "You’re right," I said softly, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my chest.

The camera flashes were blinding, a relentless storm of lightning that left spots dancing in my vision. I forced the corners of my mouth upward, plastering on the smile I had practiced in the mirror a thousand times. It was the smile of a future Luna—perfect, poised, and completely hollow. "Closer," a photographer shouted from the press pit. Alpha Adrian Hayes tightened his grip on my waist. To the world, it looked like a possessive, loving embrace. To me, it was a vice. His fingers dug into the silk of my dress, bruising the skin beneath. "Smile brighter, Haisley," he hissed in my ear, his voice a low growl only I could hear. "You look like a corpse.

“Get away from her!” The voice behind us hit like a bullet. We both froze. I turned slowly, and there he was—Castillo “What did you do?” he growled. “I bonded,” I said calmly. “With him?” he roared, stepping closer. “You think he’s worthy of what runs through your blood? Of you?” Aether stepped in front of me. “She chose me,” he said firmly. “You lost her the moment you turned your back, the moment you abandoned her due to greed and uncertainty.” I was supposed to be Luna by mate bond but Alpha Castillo broke me with a harsh rejection. To him I wasn’t worthy to be his Luna, but now after discovering that I’m not just Maybel the pack apprentice healer, but the last Vessel of the moon goddess he wouldn’t let me be with Alpha Aether; my new mated bond. Struggling with Alpha Aether’s hunting past, battling with Castillo’s new Luna who wouldn’t rest until she steals my power, and upholding my new identity as the goddess vessel, I’m wondering how I would cope with these burdens bestowed on me. Find out how May navigates through Fate and destiny, and how she copes with two Alpha fighting for her love.

For five years, I was my boss's secret wife, the mother of his son, and the backbone of his company. But on our son Leo's fifth birthday, he chose to spend the evening with his new protégé, Chelsi. That night, he missed Leo's party. Then he asked me and our son to move out of our home so Chelsi could stay there after her apartment flooded. "It's just a temporary arrangement," he said, as if asking me to move a plant. "She's a colleague, and she's in a difficult situation. What do you expect me to do?" The next day, he tried to make up for it with a birthday gift for Leo-a toy snake. He didn't remember that our son is deathly allergic to the peanut shells it was filled with. Leo looked at his father, his heart breaking. "You don't know my allergy, Daddy?" That was the moment I knew it was over. I had already filed for divorce, but this was the final confirmation. I took our son and walked away from our house, our life, and the man who never truly saw us. As we drove to the airport, I blocked his number. This wasn't just a separation; it was an erasure.

My husband, Cole, collapsed on our kitchen floor, gasping that he was in agony. But I told him to stop being so dramatic. My toxic ex, Bryant, was drunk and whining about a sprained arm, and I chose to rush him to a private clinic instead. I left Cole to die alone on the cold tiles. He had to call 911 himself. When I finally saw him in the hospital, the adoration he'd held for me for five years was gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness. "You left me to die, Emily," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You chose him. Again." I had taken the kindest, most devoted man I'd ever known for granted, treating him as a placeholder for the man who constantly broke my heart. In one single, cruel moment, I had finally killed his love for me. Now, the divorce papers are on my desk. He's in Paris, thriving with a new restaurant and a new love who appreciates him. And I am left with nothing but the ashes of my mistakes, beginning a life of lonely, agonizing penance.

I stared at the manila envelope in Connor's hands, my fingers trembling slightly as I reached for it. Ninety-nine days. Just ninety-nine days since we'd exchanged vows, since I'd promised to love this man through sickness and health, till death do us part. "What is this?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears, hollow and small in our suddenly too-large living room. Connor's face was a mask of clinical detachment, his blue eyes—the same eyes that had looked at me with such tenderness on our wedding day—now cold and distant. He adjusted his tie, a nervous habit I'd once found endearing. "Divorce papers," he said flatly. "I need you to sign them." The envelope slipped from my fingers, landing with a soft thud on our marble coffee table. "Is this a joke?" "I wish it were." Connor ran a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. "Lyla Collins has returned." Lyla Collins.

"You’re late again." The words left my mouth before I could soften them. Not accusing, not yet—but sharper than I'd meant. Ferdinand froze in the doorway, one hand still on the keys dangling from the lock. His coat hung awkwardly on his frame, the collar askew, like he’d thrown it on in a rush. His smile flickered. “Traffic was a nightmare,” he said, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. “I came straight from the office.” The lie was subtle, expertly delivered. He didn’t know I noticed how his shoes were dry—bone dry—on a rainy day. I turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce so fiercely it splattered red across the tile. “I made your favorite. Marinara with the San Marzanos you like.” Behind me, the sound of him setting his keys in the ceramic dish. The clink was louder than usual. "You didn’t have to do all this," he said. I always do, I wanted to say. Every year, every Friday, every time you forget the little things, I’m here making up the difference. But I only smiled, the tight-lipped kind that didn't reach my eyes. He crossed the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me. His touch was warm but weightless, as if he were already halfway somewhere else. “You’re tense,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple. "You’re checking your phone a lot tonight." I kept my tone easy, like I hadn’t counted. Three times in five minutes. "Collins is blowing up the group thread again. The man's a lunatic before presentations." He laughed—too loud, too forced. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, fingers tapping out a jittery rhythm. He kissed my cheek. It landed flat. “We still good for tomorrow?” I asked, ladling sauce over steaming pasta. “Maison, seven o’clock.” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He smiled too hard, too fast. The kind of smile that says look at me, not look at us. "Alright. I'm gonna shower before dinner," he added quickly, grabbing his phone again on the way out. The bathroom door shut with a muffled click. I set down the spoon and leaned heavily against the counter, my breath catching. For a second, the only sound was the soft bubble of the sauce on the stove and the distant hiss of water from the pipes. It’s fine, I told myself. He’s planning something. That’s all. He’s distracted because he’s organizing some surprise. That’s what this is. But then the scent hit me again—perfume. Not mine. Subtle, floral, unfamiliar. And far too expensive for someone who “just worked late.” I stared at the closed bathroom door. He’s hiding something. And worse, he thinks I’m too naïve to see it.

The blue light of my phone illuminated the dark bedroom as I scrolled mindlessly through the WolfWhistle app. Another sleepless night in my third trimester, the baby's kicks making it impossible to find comfort in any position. Anders had left hours ago for what he called "emergency border patrol training," but his absence felt heavier tonight. I scrolled past pack announcements and werewolf memes until a thread titled "Alpha Confessions" caught my eye. The anonymous poster claimed to be an Alpha sharing his "greatest achievements in deception." "My heavily nesting mate thinks I'm out protecting our territory," the post began. "Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my chosen lover who doesn't have pregnancy hormones making her impossible." My finger froze above the screen. Nesting mate. That could be any pregnant Luna. "But the best part?" the poster continued. "She's so focused on preparing for our pup that she never questions my nightly border patrols at North Ridge." North Ridge.

The ceremonial chalice felt heavier than usual in my hands as I moved through the pack hall, its ancient silver surface reflecting the warm glow of the birthday candles that decorated Oscar's celebration. Three years of marriage, and I still felt a flutter of pride watching my Alpha command the room with his natural charisma. Pack members from across our territory had gathered to honor him, their voices rising in traditional birthday songs that echoed off the stone walls. I smiled as I approached the head table, carrying the chalice filled with blessed wine—a Luna's sacred duty during ceremonial feasts. Oscar caught my eye and winked, that boyish grin that had first captured my heart when I was nothing more than an Omega desperate to prove my worth. The memory should have warmed me, but something felt different tonight. A tension I couldn't quite place. *Luna Remi.* The mind-link hit me like a physical blow, Dr. Sarah Mitchell's voice urgent and strained in my consciousness. *I need to speak with you immediately.