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I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip. Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes. His pale chest was torn open to the bone. I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop. He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel. And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain. A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days. My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid. "Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume." If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed. But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap. How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself? I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive. Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face. "Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire." This time, I will rewrite my own fate.

Nelson Smith has been struggling for survival due to kidney failure. Without a transplant, he has less than four months to live. No one in his family matched after tests were done. Not even his siblings, parents or cousins, except for one person, Janice Capuno, his wife. Janice used to be the darling of a wealthy Dynasty, until she hid her identity and married the man she loves, Nelson Smith, against her parent's wishes. Instead of getting love, she was treated like a servant by her mother-in-law, mocked as a gold-digger by her sister in-law, but for her husband, his love towards her remained unshakable. He'd never ceased defending and protecting her from his family, that's why when the doctors confirmed her to be a match, she didn't hesitate to get herself cut open to save Nelson's life. **** There was barely thirty minutes to the surgery, and Janice was already in her hospital gown, waiting to get cut and her kidney given out to save her husband's life, when the reality of everything she had believed in came changing in her eyes. "Babe....my phone...switch it off...battery." Nelson pointed to his bag weakly before the sedative took full action on him. Just before she'll put the phone off, a WhatsApp notification suddenly popped up. It was from Tricia, his University ex-girlfriend. "Baby, has the fool gone into the theatre yet? I can't wait for this to be over. Once you get the kidney, we're done with her." The message read.

Jolie transmigrated into a high-tech universe ruled by beast-shifting Primals, only to wake up in the body of a "defective" female. With a Genetic Compatibility Index of zero, she was publicly discarded by her mandated military partner. Before she could even adapt, her stepmother drugged her with an illegal aphrodisiac and locked her in a pitch-black suite with that same ex-fiancé—now a feral, maddened beast. The family wanted her torn apart to permanently erase their embarrassment. But instead of dying, Jolie awakened a rare plant-manipulation power. She bound the raging General, drained his energy, robbed him blind, and fled to a remote farming planet. Just as she thought she was free, the Commonwealth system flashed a new mandate. They assigned her a new husband: Keanu Robertson, a psychotic assassin who had murdered his last three wives. The system wasn't giving her a partner; it was handing her a death warrant. Keanu despised females, especially a "useless" zero-GCI burden. He tracked her forged alias across the galaxy, descending upon her barren farm in the dead of night with pure murderous intent. How could a discarded, defective girl survive the most feared apex predator in the Shadow Sector? But as the legendary assassin stepped onto her property to finish the job, a mutated, neurotoxic vine whipped out and completely paralyzed him. Watching the massive killer crash face-first into the dirt, Jolie lowered her rifle and smiled. "Welcome home, husband."

My phone rang just as I was finishing a report for next week's board meeting. The number wasn't saved in my contacts, but I recognized the area code—the hospital near my father's office. "Claire Wright?" The voice was clinical, detached. "Yes, this is she." My pen hovered over the signature line as I waited for whatever routine inquiry this call might bring. "Ms. Wright, this is Mercy General Hospital. Your father has suffered a massive cardiac event. He's in critical condition. You should come immediately." The pen slipped from my fingers, splattering ink across the pristine document. "What?

The key slid into the lock with a familiar click, but something felt off as I stepped into my own home. After three weeks of back-to-back federal assignments, all I wanted was to sink into my couch, breathe in the scent of my grandfather's old leather chair, and feel like Evie Washington again—not just Agent Washington or Officer Washington. I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for the study. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, marking time as it had since I was a child. Everything seemed in place, yet something wasn't right. My fingers traced the edge of my desk drawer—the one with the secure lock that held my most precious documents. The lock was intact, but when I opened it, my stomach dropped. "My authorization," I whispered, flipping through the folder where my special government-issued travel authorization should have been. "It's gone." That piece of paper wasn't just government stationery. It was my promise to my grandfather—the promise I'd made at his graveside in that small French cemetery where he'd lain since 1944.

I was seven months pregnant and suddenly found myself doubled over in pain in the middle of the night. But my husband, claiming it was because of his status as a public figure, refused to take me to the hospital. “You know my career is unique,” he snapped. “Are you trying to get me caught by paparazzi and ruin my reputation?” Blood was trickling down my legs, and I could only plead with him for help. “Honey, I'm bleeding. This is your child too…” His irritation was clear as he finally got out of bed. I thought he would take me to the hospital, but instead, he slammed the door and walked out. “Stop acting. Don’t think I’m unaware of your real motives,” he shouted. “I told you, those other women are just a part of my public image.

Lilliana's mom always thinks about herself, never her own daughter. So, when she gets married and moves them again to a new town, Lilliana never expects she will become happier than she has been in years. Her new stepbrother Ryder can't stand seeing Lilly with her five new 'boyfriends." Ryder makes her his. Then the other two stepbrothers come home for Christmas break and things get even hotter. How is she going to handle being with three guys, when she has never even had a real boyfriend? Only thing she knows for sure is she loves Being Their's!

I stared at the silver envelope on my small wooden desk, my fingers trembling as I traced the elegant cursive of my name. Today was my twenty-fourth birthday, and this was the only card I'd received. Three years ago, birthdays meant pancakes with extra blueberries and Alex's warm arms wrapped around me as we watched the sunrise from our little cottage porch. Now, they were just another day of scrubbing floors and avoiding Victoria's cruel gaze. Something about the envelope felt wrong. The Sterling family crest pressed into the wax seal seemed to mock me. I broke it open, expecting perhaps a formal acknowledgment from Alexander—something cold but proper. What fell out stole the breath from my lungs. Photographs. Glossy, professional shots of Alexander and Victoria in ceremonial white robes, standing beneath an arch of moonflowers—my moonflowers, the ones I'd cultivated for years.

Nora is a stranger in her own pack. Bullied by her cousins and orphaned at six, she clings to the small kindness her uncle shows her. But tragedy strikes again on the day she shifts for the first time. Trapped in her wolf form, Nora is forced to wander the woods, lost and alone. Until an encounter with her destined mate, Jack Steven, brings her back to her humanity. Just when she begins to believe in love and belonging, the truth shatters her. Realizing the person she trusted most was behind the death of her parents. Now, Nora must choose between surrendering to fate. Or seeking the vengeance that burns in her blood.

For years, I was the perfect, quiet wife to Dante Moretti, the most feared Mafia Don in New York. I mistook his lavish gifts for affection and his cold protection for care. The ninety-ninth time I asked for a divorce, he laughed. An hour later, his mistress, Isabella, called him. "Get out," he ordered, leaving me on a dark street corner in the pouring rain so he could rush to her side. As I watched his armored car vanish, I finally understood the truth. Our marriage was a transaction, a pact made to settle my father's debts. I was just a placeholder, a substitute living a life designed for Isabella. Every gift, every gesture, was an echo of her tastes. He never saw me. To him, I wasn't his wife; I was a possession. An obligation he could discard at will. He thought I was too weak, too dependent to ever fight back. He believed I couldn't survive without him. He thought I would just run and hide. He was wrong. You don't escape a man like Dante Moretti. He would hunt you to the ends of the earth, not out of love, but out of pride. To break a pact with a Don, you can't just run. You have to be prepared for war. And standing there, drenched and abandoned, I made a new vow: I wouldn't just leave him. I would burn his entire world to ash.

For seven years, I was a prisoner in a wheelchair, and my husband, Carter, was my devoted savior. After the accident that stole my legs, he fed me, bathed me, and carried me. He was my entire world. Then I discovered his secret: he was having an affair with Jade, the daughter of the man who crippled me. My "recovery" smoothies weren't for healing; they were laced with sedatives to keep me weak and dependent. When I confronted them, Jade pushed me down the stairs. As I lay bleeding on the cold marble floor, I felt a sharp, agonizing pain. I was losing our baby. Carter looked down at me with disgust. "You're pathetic, Alayna. Stay here and rot." He walked out, leaving me to die. But I didn't die. My family found me. And as I slowly, miraculously, learned to walk again, the broken wife he knew was gone. They took my legs, my child, and my trust. Now, I would take everything from them.

For nine years, I was the "Wolfless Wonder," the shame of the Reyes Pack. I swallowed bitter suppressants every morning to hide my identity as a rare White Wolf, enduring my husband’s coldness just to stay by his side. But tonight, Alpha Dominick shattered whatever bond we had left. He walked into the Annual Gathering with his mistress, Chastity, clinging to his arm, pregnant and smug. When Chastity staged a miscarriage and blamed me, Dominick didn't ask for the truth. He dragged me to the hospital. "She needs blood," he snarled. "O-Negative. Like yours." He used the Alpha Command to force me onto the table. He watched as they drained me dry to save the woman destroying my life. "Alpha, her heart rate is dropping!" the doctor warned. "It will kill her!" Dominick didn't even flinch. "Keep going," he ordered. "Take what you need until Chastity is safe." As the machine beeped and darkness took me, the submissive wife died. I woke up in the morgue holding cell and made a choice. I signed the divorce papers, set the penthouse on fire, and vanished into the night. He thought I burned to death. He didn't know I escaped. Months later, he tracked a ghost to a vineyard in London. But he didn't find the broken girl he sacrificed. He found the White Wolf, glowing with silver magic, standing beside a new mate who actually cherished me. Dominick fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Annis, come home. I command you." I looked down at him and smiled. "Your voice doesn't work on me anymore, Alpha. You killed the part of me that listened."

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

I was a Vampire Princess, mated and married to an Alpha werewolf. But our child was neither vampire nor werewolf; he was nothing but a scrawny, feral mutt. In a fit of rage, Kaelen killed him and banished me. To save my baby, I drained every drop of my magic and died completely. Five hundred years after my death, Kaelen came seeking my heart to ensure his new Luna could bear an heir. "Five hundred years... has she learned her lesson? Tell her to offer up her heart, and I might just forgive her this once." But when he finally learned of my death, he fell to his knees before my grave, weeping and begging for forgiveness.

I am the Fated Mate of Alpha Damien Blackwood, but because I was born a wolfless Omega, I was kept as his dirty little secret. The constant rejection from my mate was literally killing me. The Pack Healer handed me my death sentence: Terminal Soul Wither. My life was ticking down to its final months. While I sat in the dark, dying and gasping for air, Damien threw a twenty-million-dollar fireworks festival for his chosen future Luna, Isabelle. When he finally came home, reeking of her perfume, he only looked at me with eyes as cold as winter ice. "It's your ovulation window. Let's get this over with." He only wanted to use me to breed a powerful heir. He threatened to exile my only remaining family if I didn't comply, and even ordered me to draft a legal petition to invalidate my own existence so Isabelle could take my place. Even my adopted brother Jax, whom I suffered for years to protect, publicly threw me to the dirt just to ally with a powerful Pack. I sacrificed my brilliant future as a top strategist to marry Damien, enduring three years of abuse and isolation. Why did I have to rot away in agony while they celebrated my replacement on glossy magazines? I wouldn't let them watch me die in their golden cage. I signed the ancient Rejection petition, dropped the manor keys, and walked out into the freezing night. This time, I chose to sever the bond myself.

Julia was anchored to the freezing concrete floor, forced to watch the man beside her get his head blown off. The mechanical system in her head announced she had transmigrated into the apocalyptic novel Wasteland Frenzy—right at the villain's execution phase. A tall figure in an immaculate black suit stepped through the blood. Byron Serrano, the man the original host had tormented for years, grabbed her jaw with an ice-cold leather glove. "My dear fiancée, now, it is your turn." His henchman pulled out a rusted skinning knife, aiming the serrated edge directly at Julia's right eye. The system blared a fatal crisis warning. She was going to be brutally tortured, skinned, and murdered to pay for the sadistic games of the body's previous owner. The agonizing phantom pain and the suffocating stench of rotting meat paralyzed her. She screamed internally, cursing the chains and the unfairness of it all. Why did she have to die for a vicious persona she never chose? Just as the blade touched her skin, the system triggered a time rewind. Julia gasped, waking up in a luxurious bed exactly three months before the apocalypse outbreak. The system immediately ordered her to take a bloody whip and punish the heavily injured Byron downstairs to maintain the plot. Julia coldly refused. Instead, she sold her fifty-million-dollar inheritance for five million in immediate cash, bought an underground doomsday bunker, and secretly bandaged the bleeding villain's wounds in the dead of night. This time, she would survive her own way.

I used to believe love meant sacrifice. For ten years, I gave everything to my husband, Julian Prescott — a billionaire genius whose world ran on rigid routines, perfect order, and emotional distance. I became the invisible system holding our family together, managing every detail of his Asperger’s needs while protecting our brilliant son, Lucas, from a world that overwhelmed him. Then Julian chose another woman. The day I walked away from our marriage, my son screamed for me, my husband called me selfish, and I thought my heart would never recover. But they never realized the truth: I wasn’t just a wife. I was the architect of their entire lives. Now I’m back where I belong — at Vanguard Corp, the tech empire my family built, reclaiming the future I abandoned for love. As Julian’s perfect world begins to collapse without me, he finally sees the cost of taking me for granted. But while my ex-husband fights desperately to win me back, someone else quietly enters my life. Alex Milton doesn’t ask me to disappear for him. He sees me — my mind, my ambition, my pain. For the first time in years, I’m forced to ask myself a dangerous question: What happens when the woman who held everyone else together finally chooses herself?

The silence in the penthouse was wrong. It wasn’t the peaceful hush of a well-staffed Manhattan home; it was a vacuum, heavy and suffocating. My heels clicked sharply against the marble foyer, the sound echoing too loudly as I dropped my valise. Three days in Tokyo negotiating with tech giants, and all I wanted was the humid, earthy scent of the solarium. I needed to see Atlas. For twenty-six years, that three-hundred-year-old tortoise had been my anchor, a living, breathing connection to the Kennedy legacy that predated even the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I walked straight past the living room toward the glass-walled enclosure on the terrace level. Empty. The heat lamps were off. The custom-blended soil had been scoured away, replaced by pristine, lifeless white tiles.

I should have knocked. That thought came to me later — much later, when I was sitting on the floor of my room with my back against the door and my hands pressed flat against the cold wood, trying to remember how to breathe. I should have knocked. I should have waited. I should have done a hundred things differently. But I didn't knock. I just opened the door. The fresh change of clothes was folded over my arm — Kingsley's gray training shirt, the one he'd asked me to bring up before the afternoon session. A small thing. An errand.

Lawson and I found a rogue werewolf caught in a hunter's trap. As we carefully removed the steel jaws from her leg, a strange thought growled from my wolf, Alex: 【You shouldn’t have saved her. She’s dangerous. She’ll take your mate from you.】 My hands froze mid-motion. ============================== I hesitated for a moment, then tilted the rogue’s face toward me, letting my wolf senses take in her scent—a faint mix of wild forest and something sharp, almost metallic. Lawson’s voice cut through the silence, his alpha aura pressing lightly against me. "Mazie, what are you doing?" The rogue stirred, her amber eyes fluttering open. They were striking, almost unnaturally so, and her gaze locked onto mine, intense and searching. She smiled weakly, her voice soft but carrying the faint growl of her wolf. "Thank you for saving me.

Kael seeing her stormy grey eyes whirling around and planning a come back smiled deviously, "It seems like you don't believe me. I'll make you believe me." And before Seren could tell him that she did believe him, Kael grabbed the back of the neck and pulled her closer to him then his lips were on hers and she instinctively closed her eyes. Kael's lips were softer than she remembered and she felt a part of her she didn't know existed growl within her. That was her wolf. That bitch didn't make her presence known normally but chose to appear when Kael kissed her. And honestly, she was enjoying the kiss. She felt her legs grow weak and threaten to give away beneath her, so she held onto Kael's coat. It seemed to please him because he let out a satisfied hum and deepened the kiss. His hand weaved through her hair making her let out a moan. Soon her hands were around his neck and one was weaving this his hair. His lips were so soft. She felt like she was in heaven. She didn't want the kiss to stop. Not long after she came to that conclusion, Kael pulled out leaving a trail of saliva between their lips. She opened her eyes and was immediately sucked in by Kael's lust filled ones. Kael rested his forehead against hers for a while breathing softly, his voice filled with barely concealed lust, "You see the connection between us, don't you Seren?" Seren Han was just another broke student eating instant noodles and mocking bad romance webnovels online-until a ridiculous accident killed her mid-rant. When she wakes up, it's inside the very story she was criticizing. Worse, she's not the heroine destined for love, but Seren Nightwind, the villainess omega fated for rejection and disgrace at the Mate Ceremony. And then comes the System. Quests. Penalties. Ridiculous missions like "Laugh at the heroine" and "Seduce the Alpha." Every command pushes her closer to ruin, but refusing carries consequences she can't ignore. Trapped between the Moon Goddess's script and the System's threats, Seren has only one question: How do you survive when the story itself wants you to lose?

My husband, Keaton, and my adopted sister, Kaylene, betrayed me. I discovered Kaylene was pregnant with his child, a calculated move to secure an heir for the shipping empire my family built and he now controlled. He painted me as a cold, career-obsessed wife who couldn't give him a child, turning our mutual decision to wait into a weapon against me. When I confronted them, Keaton promised to handle it, but it was just another lie. His deception ran deeper than I ever imagined. When a violent figure from Keaton' s past emerged, revealing he had used stolen money to marry into my family, Keaton chose to protect his pregnant mistress over me, leaving me to be attacked and seriously injured. He left me bleeding on the floor of an art gallery, choosing to shield the woman carrying his child-a child that, I would later discover, wasn't even his. I faked my own death, escaping to Ireland to start a new life, free from his web of lies. But Keaton, consumed by a twisted obsession after learning the truth, hunted me down. He found me, desperate to reclaim what he had destroyed. "You're mine, Blair," he growled, his eyes filled with a possessive fire. "Always have been, always will be."

Alina rejects Alpha Zach as her mate for the sake of her father but when she realizes she can't do without him, she hurries back into his arms, marrying him but things don't go as she hopes it would as Zach's feelings towards her changes. She ends up leaving the marriage at his behest. When Zach realizes Alina is carrying his child, he goes after her but this time things are different as he tries his best to have her back at all cost.

Title- A Name Without A Past Author- Abraham Tejiri Onojighofia Genre: Psychological Suspense Romance / Crime Thriller Tagline: Memory lies. Danger doesn't.. Larry awakens in an abandoned hospital with no name, no past, and no memories-except one. A woman's face. Her voice. Her presence. The single image floating in the hollow wreckage of his mind is so sharp, so undeniable, that he knows she matters. He doesn't know who he is, but he knows he must find her. Moments after he escapes the hospital, someone tries to kill him. Driven by instinct and the one memory he trusts, Larry follows the fragment of recognition until it leads him to Ella Morgan, a composed and fiercely intelligent homicide detective. But instead of relief, he's met with confusion. Ella has never seen him before. According to her, he is a stranger. But danger arrives before either of them can walk away. A sudden attack convinces Ella that Larry is not lying-someone wants him dead. And the attempt on his life mirrors the recent string of unsolved murders she is investigating. Against policy and against her better judgment, Ella takes him under temporary protection. Immediately, unsettling cracks begin to appear in her certainty. Larry recognizes places connected to the case. He reacts to threats with a trained instinct he can't explain. And his fragmented flashbacks seem tied to secrets Ella wasn't supposed to uncover. As they race to piece together his missing identity, a darker truth begins to emerge. Larry's amnesia is no accident. Evidence points to a covert operation, a covered-up crime, and powerful enemies determined to bury the truth permanently. His erased memory may hold the key to a conspiracy that reaches into the police force, the city's elite-and Ella's own past. With each step closer to the truth, the connection between them deepens. Larry feels drawn to her with an unshakable certainty that defies logic, while Ella fights the pull of a man who may be the missing link to her most dangerous case yet. But as Larry's memories begin to return, so does a chilling realization: Ella wasn't just a face in his mind. She was the last person he tried to protect before everything went dark. Now, the enemies hunting Larry have turned their sights on her. In a deadly race against a faceless adversary, Larry and Ella must unravel the past he's forgotten before it destroys them both. Because the silence Larry woke up with isn't empty-it's hiding a witness, a secret, and a truth someone is willing to kill to keep buried. And the closer the truth gets, the more dangerous remembering becomes.