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Nadia goes to deliver a special flower bouquet order to her company in a hotel only to find that the couple is her husband and her best friend who just returned from abroad. Alpha Adams cheats on her just three days to their third anniversary and when she asks why he would do this to her, he claims that while Olga is a diplomat and doctor, she has nothing to offer and she learns that Olga is even pregnant for her husband. He's set to take her as his new Luna. Nadia is heartbroken as she recounts the great dreams she gave up just to marry Adams and make him a successful Alpha. In revenge, she engages in a one-night stand with the single Alpha triplet kings at the club. She turns out to be the mate they have been waiting for. She reports Adams to them and they return with her to deal with them where they meet Olga, they realize the traitor is their long-lost stepsister and Adam playing his cards well reveals to the triplets that Nadia is infertile, one secret she wanted to keep. With the triplets’ ex calling in to announce that same day that she's pregnant, Nadia’s seemingly perfect ending crumbles before her. She's left to the fate of the triplets’ decision. Will they let love and lust cloud their judgment or will they go after who can keep them on the throne for a long time? Nadia is exposed to a world of deeper secrets and conspiracies against her, will she turn this discovery to her good and win over the triplets?

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister’s engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton’s shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton’s fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

For three years, I scrubbed tables as a "wolfless runt," hiding my identity as the Lycan King's daughter. It was a test for my fiancé, Alpha Connor. I wanted to see if he loved the girl, or just the crown. He failed spectacularly tonight. His mistress, Jaden, deliberately knocked a tray of drinks onto me during the dinner rush. The liquid wasn't alcohol. It was concentrated silver. My flesh hissed and bubbled as the poison ate through my skin, blocking any ability to heal. I fell to the floor, clutching my melting hand, while Jaden faked tears and claimed I attacked her. When Connor finally answered the video call, he saw my mangled hand. He smelled the burning flesh. He knew it was silver. But he didn't help me. He looked at his watch, annoyed that I was interrupting his business meeting with investors. "Apologize to Jaden," he ordered, using his Alpha Command to crush me into submission. "On your knees. Now." The pain was blinding, but the betrayal cut deeper. He was forcing his Fated Mate to bow to the woman who tried to maim her. My knees bent under the pressure, but my Royal blood refused to break. I looked straight into the camera lens. "No," I whispered. I reached into my apron, bypassing the notepad, and pulled out a black satellite phone I hadn't touched in years. "Code Black," I said to the King on the other end. "Send the Guard." Connor thought he was disciplining a waitress. He didn't know he just declared war on the Royal Family.

They called her cursed. A slave. The daughter of a traitor. Stripped of everything after her father's execution, Elara never imagined the ruthless Alpha King would see her as anything more than broken. But when their eyes meet, he recognizes what no one else can,she's his fated mate. And she's far more dangerous than anyone knows. Ancient prophecy demands her death. The pack fears her power. Even the man who loves her is told he must kill her to save them all. But when Elara is dragged to a sacred temple to be sacrificed, and a blade pierces her heart, a legend thought dead for decades emerges from the shadows, the missing Lycan King. And he's not there to let his daughter die. Betrayed by those she trusted. Hunted by those who fear her. Loved by an Alpha who'll burn the world to keep her safe. Now Elara must decide: will she be the destruction they fear, or the queen they never saw coming?

The blue glow of my phone illuminated the darkness of our bedroom as I scrolled mindlessly through social media. Ethan had texted earlier that he'd be working late again—the third time this week. I'd stopped waiting up for him months ago, when his late nights became more frequent than his early returns. A notification banner slid down from the top of my screen. Unknown number. *He says I wear it better than you ever did.* I frowned, tapping on the message. A photo loaded—a close-up of a woman's bare waist with a small heart-shaped tattoo on her hip bone. Identical to mine. In the exact same spot. My breath caught in my throat.

After two years of severed mate bonds with Daniel Washington, the former Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack, we crossed paths at a pack gathering held in a grand Victorian-style hall. By now, he had a new mate, Catalina Parker, and whispers of her pregnancy were already circulating among the pack. As the wine flowed and inhibitions lowered, the atmosphere turned playful, and we found ourselves caught in a game of truth or dare. Daniel, clearly having indulged too much, looked at me with a slight redness in his eyes, his once-commanding aura now tinged with recklessness. "Two years ago," he confessed, his voice just above a whisper but carrying the weight of an alpha tone, "I tampered with our mate bond rituals to ensure we could never produce offspring." The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, the pack members’ eyes darting between us. I lifted my glass of Pinot Noir, my hand steady despite the storm brewing inside me. "In fact," I replied, my voice calm and measured, "I’ve since examined your fertility. It’s practically non-existent. In layman's terms, you're hardly capable of siring a pup." The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sharp intake of breath from Catalina. Her expression transformed right before my eyes, disbelief and anxiety twisting her features.

My mate got into Oxford, but he decided to repeat a year of high school instead. As an Alpha, Luca Stone had the privilege to choose his path, but I encouraged him to pursue his studies at Oxford. Later, we both went abroad for our master's degrees and returned to lead a successful and fulfilling life within our packs. But then, after his high school sweetheart, Adrianna Sullivan, was beaten to death by her husband, he ended up killing me. "It's all your fault, Gabrielle, for pushing me to go to Oxford," he growled, his Alpha tone cutting through the air like a blade. "If I had stayed back with Adrianna, she would have marked me, and she wouldn’t have suffered from the abuse." So, she was his true mate all along. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the time right after the college entrance exams, my memories intact but my heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. "Gabrielle, I'm thinking about repeating the year," Luca said, his deep voice carrying the weight of his Alpha authority, though he tried to soften it for me. "Go ahead," I replied, my tone steady despite the turmoil inside me. My wolf stirred faintly, a quiet whisper of unease, but I pushed it aside.

For three years, I made my husband, Kane Chandler's, life a living hell. The day my family went bankrupt, he became a billionaire and handed me divorce papers. "My true love has returned," he said coldly. "I have no more use for you." To save my desperate family, I was forced to accept his cruel offer: become his live-in mistress. I had to serve him and his perfect new girlfriend, Astrid, in the penthouse that was once my home, enduring his cold, calculated revenge every single day. But then I stumbled upon a devastating secret. His "true love" Astrid was secretly plotting with his brother, Cade-the man I once adored-to destroy him from the inside. Astrid begged me to steal a file from Kane's safe, claiming it was the only way to save him from blackmail. I agreed, ready to sacrifice myself to set him free. I never imagined this was the final move in a twisted, three-year-long test of love he had designed just for me.

I caught the white roses at my best friend’s wedding. Everyone expected Nero, the Mafia Underboss I’d loved for eight years, to drop to one knee and propose. Instead, he ripped the bouquet from my hands and gave it to his secretary. “Next time, Siena,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Let Valentina have her moment in the spotlight.” In front of every Capo and soldier in the city, he stripped me of my dignity just to please a girl who played at being a mobster’s muse. To him, I was merely an entry in a ledger—forever pending, never prioritized. I quietly sold our penthouse, packed my bags, and walked away. In seven days, I would no longer be his shadow. I planned to marry his rival Don.

Dumped at the altar, she shocks everyone by marrying her ex-fiancé's father on the spot. Now she's trapped in a scandalous marriage with a ruthless billionaire, while her ex becomes obsessed with winning her back. But the biggest danger isn't the forbidden love... It's the secrets her new husband is hiding.

For thirty years, I loved Javen Sullivan. Our engagement was the perfect merger of two corporate empires, and I thought my lifelong dream of being with him had finally come true. But at our party, I overheard him talking to his best man. Our entire relationship was a lie, a "business deal" to make his parents happy and protect his real girlfriend, Keely. He said my love was just a childish crush he was indulging. That I was too familiar, too stable, and he could never fall in love with me. The worst part was the car crash three years ago. The one that caused my miscarriage and left me barren. He had always called it a tragic accident. But a video played during a party game revealed the truth. He crashed because he swerved to save her when she ran into the road to confront him. He sacrificed our baby to protect his affair. As the room fell silent, I picked up the bottle for the next round. "My turn," I said, my voice like ice. The game had just begun.

The day before the wedding with my childhood betrothed, I hid in the bridal suite, hoping to surprise him. Instead, I was the one taken aback by the news of his marriage. "Three days ago, I went to the courthouse and got a marriage license with Birdie Garcia," Eli boasted. His friends praised his audacity, "Eli, you rogue, making decisions on your own. Why even bother with the wedding? Does Arabella know about this?" Eli adjusted his watch with an air of disdain. "Even if she does, what difference does it make? She practically begged for this wedding." "I've made an arrangement with Birdie. Arabella can have a title in public, but at home, she'll be our maid, catering to both of us," he said smugly. "After all, one can't be too greedy." Outside the room, my hands shook slightly as I held the glass of sparkling water.

In this life Alyssa only ever knew how to love Travis, from afar, being his wife, bearing his child, even though she knew his heart belonged to someone else. But can you bind your love to someone if they feel suffocated? Sometimes resentment lets you do stupid things and the fates play with your life. Do they really feel suffocated? Or was it Luna’s plan all along after all Wolves are supposed to mate for life

For three years, I was the wife of Don Dante Moretti. But our marriage was a transaction, and my heart was the price. I kept a ledger, deducting points for every time he chose her—his first love, Isabella—over me. When the score reached zero, I would be free. After he abandoned me on a roadside to rush to Isabella's side, I was hit by a car. I woke up in the ER, bleeding, only to hear a nurse shout that I was two months pregnant. A tiny, impossible hope flared in my chest. But as the doctors scrambled to save me, they patched my husband through on speakerphone. His voice was cold and absolute. “Isabella’s condition is critical,” he ordered. “Not one drop of the reserve blood is to be touched until she is safe. I don't care who else needs it.” I lost the baby. Our child, sacrificed by its own father. I later learned Isabella had only suffered a minor cut. The blood was just a “precautionary measure.” The tiny flicker of hope was extinguished, and something inside me snapped, clean and final. The debt was paid. Alone in the silence, I made the last entry in my ledger, bringing the score to zero. I signed the divorce papers I had already prepared, left them on his desk, and walked out of his life forever.

When Ayla is dragged from her school into the heart of a strange wolf territory, she expects torture-or death. Instead, she meets Alpha Kael: a man as dangerous as he is breathtaking, and a secret buried beneath his skin. His blood awakened an ancient orb-and in one night, Kael became the vessel of a living curse. Now the orb stirs again, its power latching onto Ayla. The mark she wears, her mother's ring, links her to the prophecy whispered by the Moon goddess messenger: "When the moon bleeds and the cursed wolf kneels, love shall either heal the wound... or end the world." As darkness spreads through the pack and the curse consumes Kael's soul, Ayla must decide whether to save him-or destroy him before the prophecy destroys them both. But fate has a cruel sense of humor... Because to break the curse, the moon goddess demands the one thing neither of them is willing to give up. Their hearts.

I loved Frank, but his twisted obsession with his adopted sister Alice destroyed us. After I stood up to Alice at the hospital, Frank retaliated by leaking my private videos. At that horrific werewolf ball, I was publicly humiliated-degraded while he watched. Shattered, I fled to my family and cut him out of my life. Years later, he found me, begging for forgiveness, but I had already moved on with Nick. Consumed by rage, Frank burned our past to ashes-literally-with Alice trapped inside.

Ninety-nine days. That was exactly how long it had been since my husband, Dante, traded my life to a Russian cartel just to save his mistress from a panic attack. I walked onto the grounds of the Vitiello estate only to find him caressing her six-month-pregnant belly at my own funeral. He didn't look like a grieving widower; he looked like a man who had finally buried his mistake. When I revealed I was alive, Dante didn't fall to his knees in relief. Instead, he protected Lucia. He believed her lies that I was insane, that I was a threat to his "heir." To prove his loyalty to her, he stood by while my father whipped me in the family chapel until my back was in shreds. Then, he dragged me to the roof and threw me into a freezing pool, watching me drown simply because Lucia claimed I pushed her. He didn't know Lucia was faking the pregnancy. He didn't know she was the one selling secrets to the Bratva. He broke his loyal wife to protect a traitor. Now, six months later, he stands in the rain holding the Vitiello diamond necklace, begging me to come home. He thinks he can buy forgiveness. But he doesn't see the man standing in the shadows behind me—the enforcer who took a bullet for me when Dante was busy breaking my bones. I looked at the diamonds, then at my husband. "I don't want a King," I whispered. "I chose the soldier."

I took a silver bullet for my fated mate, Derek, and fell into a coma for five years. When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn't greeted as a hero. I was handed a deportation order. Because I had burned out my wolf spirit to save his life, I was now "human" and useless to the pack. My marriage had been annulled years ago without my consent. I dragged my atrophied body to our home, only to find Derek with Anjelica, a woman I once called a friend. She was wearing my jewelry and carrying his heir. But the knife in my heart wasn't seeing them together. It was my son. My five-year-old boy, Errol, didn't run to me. He screamed in terror and sprayed me with a bottle of liquid he had been hiding. It hissed against my skin. Wolfsbane. "Go away, monster!" he sobbed, pointing the bottle at me like a weapon. "Mommy Anjelica said this burns the bad things!" I had lost my wolf, my husband, and my child. But they weren't done taking from me. When Anjelica faked a medical emergency, Derek signed a general proxy form. I was dragged into surgery, not as a patient, but as a harvest. I heard the doctor whisper, "She wants her dry." They thought draining my blood would kill me. They didn't know that my "human" shell was just a cocoon for something ancient. I escaped the hospital that night. Standing by the ocean, I threw my wedding ring into the waves. "I, Catherine, reject the bond." Miles away, Derek fell to his knees, vomiting blood as the connection snapped. He thought I was dead. He didn't know the White Wolf had just awakened.

In the world of the ultra-elite, everything has a price-but Abigail Sterling just discovered she is the currency. When her father's desperate embezzlement is unearthed by Adam Thorne, a verified billionaire with a reputation for cold-blooded acquisitions, the police aren't called. Instead, a black car arrives to collect Abigail. She is brought to a glass-and-steel fortress where a hundred-page document awaits her signature. To save her family from total ruin, she must become Adam's Private Collateral. This isn't a romance; it's a high-stakes transaction. Under the terms of the Indemnity Contract, Abigail Sterling is no longer a person, she is a fixed asset. Her schedule, her movements, and her very body are governed by clauses designed to strip away her autonomy. Adam is obsessive and possessive, using his limitless wealth to isolate her until his penthouse is the only world she knows. He doesn't want her heart; he wants her total submission to the debt. As the days turn into a psychological siege, the tension between them becomes a volatile force. Every "instruction" Adam gives is a power play; every response Abigail provides is a gamble for her soul. The air between them crackles with a raw, intense heat born of friction and dominance, moving far beyond the boardroom. The line between the captor and the captive blurs as Adam tightens his grip, proving that he doesn't just want to own her father's debt-he wants to own the woman paying it. The numbers on the ledger are shrinking, but the cost of her freedom is rising. In a game where love was never part of the contract, the only thing more dangerous than the debt is the man collecting it. When the final payment is made and the contract expires, will Abigail Sterling truly be free-or has Adam ensured she no longer knows how to exist without his shadow over her?

I was just a urologist trying to survive my first solo VIP consult. The patient was an arrogant, terrifying man who refused a basic exam. But an hour later, I was in the ER, watching his seven-year-old son bleed out on the operating table. The boy had the rarest blood type in the world—Rh-null. And so did I. I gave my blood to save the kid, thinking that would be the end of it. I was completely wrong. The terrifying VIP was Auguste Raymond, the President of the United States. Because the traumatized First Son woke up crying for me, the White House didn't just thank me. They took me. My own mentor blackmailed me with my mother's nursing home fees, threatening to cut off her medical funding if I didn't comply. The Secret Service shoved me into a black SUV, confiscated my phone, and forced me to sign a strict NDA. I was stripped of my medical career and locked inside the West Wing. I gave my blood to save his only son, and in return, the President made me his prisoner. Standing in the Oval Office, facing the most powerful man in the free world, I realized my normal life was over. "Your medical duties are suspended indefinitely. You are nothing but a nanny now," he ordered coldly. I looked at the encrypted burner phone they handed me, typed a single text, and accepted my golden cage. "I'm in."

Young, wild, and alluring, that's how everyone viewed Scarlett Morris. Most women hated her appearance because she possessed those qualities that drew men's attention towards her. Social media posts often defame and humiliate her personality, but she only shrugs her shoulders at it. Her main focus was to earn more money to support her needs and her twin brother's education. No matter how hard life threw at her, she rose above it and ignored gossip and humiliation, but people around her were vicious as their jealousy consumed their minds. She often ran into trouble, and someone out of her league became her savior. It was none other than the business mogul - Francis Sandler. Francis Sandler built a legendary empire with his business talent and extraordinary networking skills– he handled with absolute perfection both gangs and the government. He came from the wealthiest Sandler family of Irving City- and he's the CEO of T.B.S Empire. His deep secret was buried as danger evolved around it. He was accustomed that most women were crawling into his bed to warm his night. From his perspective, Scarlett was another young and wild woman who aimed for his fortune. Their destiny collided when, several times, Francis became Scarlett's savior. That moment Scarlett's enchanting beauty caught his attention, yet his painful and failed marriage reminded him that a beautiful woman is only a trophy to display. He offered her a tempting business transaction, giving her everything life has to offer and becoming his hidden woman.

The heavy mahogany door of the Plaza Hotel’s bridal suite clicked shut behind me. The sound was too loud, too final. I reached for the brass handle, my fingers slipping against the polished metal. Locked. From the outside. "Ridge?" I called out, my voice trembling against the suffocating silence of the room. The cloying scent of white lilies and expensive champagne suddenly turned my stomach. A shadow shifted in the corner. My breath hitched, the boning of my custom Vera Wang gown digging mercilessly into my ribs. Sitting in a velvet armchair, clutching a crystal tumbler with both hands, was Damian.

The club smelled like money and sweat and something darker I couldn't name. I balanced the tray on my hip and moved through the crowd, keeping my left side angled toward the speakers. The bass thrummed through the floor, and I let it guide me. As long as I could feel the vibration, I could fake the rest. Bottle service paid better than anything else I could get without references or a degree I never finished. The uniform was simple—black skirt, black top, heels that made my calves ache. I'd learned to smile with my mouth and keep my eyes empty. Most wolves didn't look past the tray anyway. I set down a bottle of Grey Goose at table six, poured three glasses without being asked, and collected the empties. A hand brushed my waist.

For three years, Alessia had been my mate, yet she always kept her distance. Her excuse? She was scared, not ready. The night before my birthday, she promised a big surprise. I thought she was finally ready, so I booked the finest suite at the Moonlit Haven, a luxurious hotel known for its privacy and elegance. I decorated it to her taste, ensuring every detail was perfect. But as the evening wore on, she didn’t show. Instead, I stumbled upon a post from Ozzy Jones, a rogue werewolf and her childhood friend. "In this vast world, having two hearts warm each other is the greatest happiness," the caption read. The photo was intimate—Alessia and Ozzy on a lavish hotel bed, her skin marked with unmistakable love bites.