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To save my grandmother, I married a man who hated me. He never knew I was the one who secretly saved his life with a bone marrow donation. And when my grandmother lay dying, he refused to pay for the surgery that would have saved her. He called it another one of my "dramas," laughing as my last hope died. But he didn't just kill my grandmother. He killed our child, too. I was secretly pregnant, part of a billion-dollar surrogacy deal to get the money for her care. When I begged him, showing him the ultrasound, his reply was cold. "Get rid of it." With my grandmother dead and my heart destroyed, I finally gave up. He would always believe the lies of his mistress-my sister-who had stolen the credit for saving him. So I terminated the pregnancy, signed the divorce papers, and paid a doctor to erase every memory of him. Now, he stands before me, a broken man begging for forgiveness, but I can only look into his tear-filled eyes and ask, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

My wealthy fiancé was kidnapped, and I poured everything into finding him. I fought tooth and nail to restore him to his rightful place in high society, to help him track down the real culprits. In return, he honored the engagement between our families and eventually married me. Yet he hated every single day of that gilded life—and he hated me even more, the one who had dragged him back into it. His heart had always belonged to that girl from the small town, his “white moonlight,” Joyce. Then came the day the traffickers returned for revenge. He rushed out and took a fatal knife meant for my father. With his last breath, he gathered every ounce of strength to whisper, “Ashley, in the next life… don’t come looking for me. Let me and Joyce live a peaceful life in Clearwater Town.” Now he was finally free. I couldn’t shed a tear; I only nodded, my voice a hoarse rasp. “All right. I promise you.” If there is a next life, Alan… I’ll let you have it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I went to Clearwater Town to find him.

The radiator in our cramped Queens apartment hissed like a cornered snake, drowning out the subtle click of the front door latch. I should have noticed the silence. I should have known that a six-year-old boy is never quiet unless he is plotting something entirely reckless. But the morning was its usual chaos. Margaret was barking about the weeping kitchen faucet, her arthritic knuckles white as she wrestled mercilessly with a wrench. "Adalyn, this pipe is crying like a widow! Call the super before we float down the avenue," she snapped, her harsh tone masking the fact that she had been up since dawn trying to fix it herself to save us fifty bucks. Distracted, I was frantically scrubbing a coffee stain from the lapel of my only professional blazer. I thought Sonny was in his bedroom, building a fortress out of pillows. I didn’t know he had already packed his favorite plastic T-Rex, a crumpled subway map, and the worn, folded letter Zain had left for him under his pillow.

The boat smelled like cedar and expensive whiskey and the particular kind of ambition that makes a room feel smaller than it is. I stood near the stern railing with a glass of sparkling water I hadn't touched, watching Joel laugh at something Brielle Hoffman said. She had her hand on his arm. He let her keep it there. The Pacific wind off the Sound pulled at her dark hair and she tilted her face up toward him like a flower tracking sunlight, and Joel — my Joel, the man I had spent five years quietly keeping alive — smiled down at her like she was the answer to a question he'd been asking his whole life. I looked away. The Puget Sound stretched gray and wide around us, the Seattle skyline already shrinking behind the stern. The chartered vessel was big enough to feel like a statement — Reid Hoffman's money, everyone understood, even if no one said it out loud. This joint gathering between Silverfang and Black Ridge was dressed up as a celebration of deepening alliance, but what it really was, was a preview. Joel auditioning for a future.

On my birthday, my mate marked the "one who got away" at the hotel we had chosen, wearing the suit I had picked for him. Alpha Daniel Olson, leader of the Crimson Fang Pack, stood there, his broad shoulders and commanding presence filling the space. Beside him was Luna Cataleya Ruiz from the Shadow Claw Pack, her beauty radiating like a cruel moon. Their marking ceremony was captured and shared by Daniel’s brother, Gerardo Olson, a Delta in their pack, who declared them destined for each other. I couldn’t resist adding my own bitter words to the sea of congratulations flooding the social media feed: "May your home be filled with pups." Not long after, my phone buzzed with a call from Alpha Daniel. Frustration laced his deep voice: "Kensley, can we stop this already? This is the last time. Once I fulfill this final promise, I’ll come back to you." I had discovered the marking ceremony through my pack’s network. Gerardo’s post showed Alpha Daniel in the suit I had chosen, his Alpha aura undeniable, while Luna Cataleya clung to his arm with a radiant smile. They walked step by step toward the ceremonial altar, their bond sealed under the gaze of the Moon Goddess.

My father gave me to Tom Cotillard for profit, but cheated on me with my sister I fled to City B, where I met my CEO chubby, but my ex Tom Cotillard,did not gave up he used my father to threaten me with my mother's life, to allure me to flatter the riches man group's president. luckily, no one knows that the real identity of riches man's group is...

I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray's text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

This is my story of how to lose a mob boss in ten days. I have a I've been arranged to marry a monster. Run away? Good idea. Tried that. Didn't work. Because in my family, my father makes the rules. And he says this wedding is happening . But he still has a soft spot for me, his last remaining daughter. So he offers me a deal. Take ten days. Get to know Sasha. See if you change your mind. Yeah, right. Sasha Ozerov is a beast in Brioni. He's ruthless, flawless, utterly unconcerned with mortals like me. All he wants is what our marriage would bring My family's power and the city in the palm of his hand. But maybe, if I can make him back out of the deal... I'll keep my freedom. So I set out to do everything I can to drive him crazy. I have ten days to make my husband hate me. What happens if I start to love him instead?

Blurb Lawrence Knights was forced to take the hardest decision of killing his baby, canceling his marriage and breaking off his relationship with his lover and mate Camilla just to protect her after the pack elders that threatened to kill her if he didn't accept their choice of Luna. After meeting Camilla who served him as his personal doctor in the hospital when he had an accident, he decided to mend things with her, and also choose to live up to his responsibility of Protecting his family when he found out Camilla never killed their baby as he had asked. He helped save Camilla from Raymond, her fiance from abroad who was a con artist. He also protected his family from his pack members and saves his son, George who was diagnosed with leukemia by donating his bone marrow. Camilla Wilmer was brutally rejected by her mate, Lawrence who asked her to abort their baby and relocate abroad. She begged the doctor that was to carry out the abortion to spare the baby's life, promising to keep the baby a secret and never allow Lawrence know about his/her existence. After returning back to California, she decided to keep her babies a secret from Lawrence who she thought would harm them since he never wanted them. She saved Lawrence’s life, accepted Lawrence back, and also saved her son George when he nearly died while undergoing the bone marrow transplant.

They called me Luna, which wasn’t enough. The night my mate left me for my fake princess twin, I swore I’d never crawl back. Three years later, I’m no longer the shy plus-size girl hiding behind my sister’s shadow. I’m the CEO of Moonveil Couture, the fashion company he once tried to destroy and a single mother to a little boy with silver eyes that match his. Now the Mafia Alpha who left me for another woman is back not as my husband, but as my protection. He doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know about our kid. He doesn’t know I’m the real princess, the one switched at birth, the one his world tried to erase. And when the guns start flying, and the dogs start hunting, neither do I know if I can keep my secret or my heart from the man who destroyed both. Because beneath all the rage and lust, there’s still that risky spark between us… The kind that could burn the entire Alpha Syndicate to dust. I was once his Luna. Now I’m his enemy. And this time, he’ll have to chase me. Until I decide whether I want revenge… or his love again.

I sacrificed my dream career for my fiancé, only to find him cheating with his older investor-a betrayal that led to my mother's death. He reached a new level of cruelty when he dumped my mother's ashes in the trash and conspired to have my wedding dress disintegrate off my body at the altar. I vanished for five years, building a new life with a new family, but now he's found us-and just saved my daughter's life to force his way back in.

I was the wife of Callan Drake, the man who conquered death to save me. Our love was a modern myth, and for five years, I was his most prized possession, living in a gilded cage everyone envied. But on our fifth anniversary, I discovered his perfect devotion was a lie. He was cheating on me with his mistress, Ericka. I followed them to a crumbling shack and heard her cruel words slice through the air. "She's a broken toy," she whispered to him. "A barren queen who can't give you an heir." Then I watched as he pulled her into his arms, their silhouettes twisting together in a sickening dance of betrayal. The man who had moved heaven and earth for me was giving himself to another woman. Everything I believed in was a carefully constructed illusion. He had saved my body, but he had just killed my soul. So that night, I gave him one last gift. While he was distracted at our anniversary gala, I left the dissolution papers on our bed and walked away forever. By midnight, I was gone.

The chandeliers of the Grand Hyatt ballroom cast a golden glow over San Francisco's tech elite. I smoothed down my navy dress—the most expensive one I owned, yet still modest compared to the designer gowns floating around me. Nine years with Jason, and I still felt like an outsider at these events. "There she is," someone whispered as I passed. "The girlfriend." Not fiancée. Never fiancée. Just the girlfriend who'd been there since the UCLA dorm rooms, before FordTech was anything but scribbles on napkins and late-night dreams. I scanned the crowd for Jason, spotting him near the stage in deep conversation with investors. His assistant, Lily Hart, stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She turned her unfocused gaze in my general direction, the picture of dignified blindness.

On the day of the company’s annual meeting, my husband, Holden, unexpectedly sent me on a business trip. As my plane touched down, my phone buzzed with a call from his assistant, Nori. Before I could say anything, I overheard her ask, "Holden, did you send Maren away just so you could see me?" In a voice oozing with affection, he replied, "What do you think, darling?" "Then tonight, let's spice things up. I promise you won't be disappointed..." The call ended with a flirtatious laugh. I swallowed the pain and repeatedly tried to call Holden. From being cut off to finding his phone switched off, he didn’t answer once. Resigned, I tucked my phone away, deciding from that moment on to stop caring about him. Yet later, it was Holden who pleaded with me to give him another chance to be loved. --- Standing at the blustery curb outside the airport, I dialed Holden Johnson over and over. I desperately hoped he would pick up and tell me it was all a misunderstanding, that the call had been just a silly game at the annual meeting.

The referee's voice echoed through the underground arena as I stepped into the ring, my hands trembling slightly beneath the taped fists. Two months pregnant—a secret I'd guarded desperately for weeks. The morning sickness had been manageable, but the exhaustion was becoming impossible to hide. George hadn't noticed yet. Or so I thought. "Lucille." George's voice cut through the pre-fight chaos as he approached the corner. My heart leapt at his rare use of my full name. "The Volkov deal hinges on this match. You understand what's at stake." I nodded, swallowing hard. "George, I need to tell you something important—" "Not now." He waved dismissively, his attention already drifting across the room.

The charity gala had ended two hours early, a small mercy I hadn’t expected. I clutched my clutch bag tighter, my knuckles turning white as I ascended the grand staircase of the Pack House. For five years, I had walked these halls as Luna of the Blood Moon Pack, yet the walls felt colder every day. My wolf, usually a source of comfort, paced anxiously in the back of my mind, scratching at my consciousness with a low, mournful whine. “Nicholas?” I called out softly as I pushed open the double doors to the Alpha suite. Silence greeted me, heavy and suffocating. The room was dark, save for a sliver of light spilling from under the bathroom door. The sound of running water cut through the quiet, accompanied by a scent that made my stomach churn—thick, heavy musk. It was the smell of an Alpha in the throes of deep arousal. My heart hammered against my ribs.

The mind-link hit me like a physical blow while I was organizing medical supplies in the pack clinic. *Kiana! Northern border—under attack—need you—* Christopher's voice crackled with what sounded like panic, then cut off abruptly. My wolf, Luna, surged forward instantly, her golden eyes flashing in my mind. *Our mate needs us!* I didn't think. I just ran. The northern border was a fifteen-minute drive, but I made it in eight, my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. My heart hammered against my ribs as I scanned the tree line for signs of battle—broken branches, disturbed earth, the metallic tang of blood. Nothing. The abandoned cabin came into view, its windows dark except for a faint glow from inside.

My husband Elliott and I were expecting our first child. Then his ex, Kenya, showed up, claiming she was dying and had his secret son. He chose her. I watched him play happy family with her while I sat alone at our baby' s ultrasound. Later, her son pushed me so hard I nearly miscarried. In the hospital, she sent me a picture of my late father' s locket, shattered, with a text saying Elliott called it "junk." When I confronted her, Elliott violently threw me out of her room. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared. "She' s fragile!" He was protecting the woman who tried to kill our baby, and calling me the monster. He held me prisoner in our home, parading his new family in public while I was erased. He thought I was too weak to leave, that I' d just accept my new place. The night of their lavish "Welcome Home" party, while the city celebrated his touching love story, I walked out the front door and never looked back.

My husband, the ruthless Underboss of the Ewing crime family, was terrified of one thing: his dead fiancée’s memory. Or rather, her living sister, Ivana, who used that memory to turn my life into a living hell. To "apologize" for humiliating me at a gala, Corbett brought me a peace offering: a green macaron. "Pistachio," he promised. "Your favorite." I took one bite, and my throat instantly seized. It felt like barbed wire tightening around my windpipe. It wasn't pistachio. It was almond paste. Corbett knew I was deadly allergic. He used to carry my EpiPen on our first dates. As I collapsed to the floor, wheezing and clawing at my neck, a scream ripped from the guest wing. "Corbett! Help! They're posting mean comments about me again!" Ivana. Corbett looked down at me, his dying wife, and then looked toward the hallway where Ivana was crying over Instagram. He hesitated for only a second. Then he pulled his leg away from my grasping hand. "I'll be right back," he said, turning his back on me. "Just... use your pen." He ran to comfort a healthy woman while I crawled across the carpet, vision tunneling, forcing the needle into my own thigh to restart my heart. As I lay there shaking, listening to him soothe her, the last thread of love snapped. I didn't call an ambulance. I pulled a burner phone from behind the vanity mirror and texted the one man Corbett feared more than death—his rival, Don Kain Solomon. "I accept. Get me out."

For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference. Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous. When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped. During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs. Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had. But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door. "It changes nothing." He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility. "It was probably for the best." He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence. He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love. What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire. Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card. It was time to show him who really held the strings.

La familia Zhao era la dueña indiscutible de casi todo el oriente, su clan, el tigre blanco, manejaba todo dentro del país, aunque no siempre fue así, antes, casi 20 años atrás, existió otro clan igual de poderoso, el dragón rojo, pero dicho clan encontró su fin por ir tras lo prohibido, ahora la suerte le sonreía al tigre blanco o al menos eso pensaban, hasta que su líder, Loan Zhao, decidió que era tiempo de retirarse y acudió a los monjes para que vieran su tatuaje, ese que los más ancianos le hacen en la espalda cuando asumen como líder y que solo puede ser descifrado, cuando se retiran de su lugar, y así pudieran decir cuál de sus hijos seria la nueva cabeza del tigre. Lo que menos espero escuchar, era que el futuro de sus hijos estaría regido por amores prohibidos, esos que pueden llegar a matarte, por destino o casualidad, el pasado se uniría con el presente, dejando solo dos caminos, la unión con familias poderosas a través de lazos indestructibles, o el dolor y la agonía de arder en amores prohibidos.

Sloane Everhart maps souls for a living. As one of the rare few with vivid past-life residue, she knows things no one should — including the fact that her previous incarnation’s love affair ended in catastrophic destruction. She’s spent nine years burying those memories. Then Callum Voss walks into her Savannah office for a routine soulprint reading, and every wall she’s built starts to crack. He doesn’t remember her. His soul does. When an anomaly resurfaces — the same echo pattern that preceded the disaster she relives in her dreams — Sloane realizes the past isn’t just haunting her. It’s reloading. Stopping it means working with the one person she swore to stay away from. And the cost of rewriting fate? Sacrificing the only gift that makes her who she is. Some loves are worth dying for. But is this one worth forgetting?

As Landon, the Lycan Prince, and I stood at the altar of the Silver Moon Pack’s grand hall, the moment came for the groom to kiss the bride. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of rosemary and pine filling the space as the pack elders and warriors watched. Suddenly, Landon pushed me aside, his towering frame casting a shadow over me, and kissed Jasmine, the Omega bridesmaid standing behind me. After a deep, fervent kiss, he turned back to me, his golden eyes gleaming with a casual arrogance. "Penelope," he said, his voice smooth but dismissive, "Jasmine has decided she never wants to mate but wanted to experience what a marking ceremony feels like. We agreed she could share in ours. Let’s carry on with the ceremony." I glanced around the hall, the guests whispering amongst themselves, their scents mingling with unease. Jasmine’s satisfied expression, her lips curled into a smirk, made my stomach churn. The pack’s hierarchy was on full display—Landon’s Lycan status commanding their attention, my Gamma rank rendering me almost invisible in comparison. With a smile that masked the storm brewing inside me, I replied, "If she’s 'borrowing' our marking ceremony, let this ceremony be yours instead." Landon feigned hesitation, his broad shoulders shrugging as if this were a minor inconvenience.