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Rumor has it that Edward Hawthorne, the world's wealthiest man, is engaged to a woman from an equally illustrious family. Yet those closest to him whisper about the first love he's been chasing for more than ten years. But as far as Alice Sterling is concerned, neither the fiancée nor this mysterious "first love" really matters. Her formidable boss, Edward, is already married-and completely devoted to his wife. He gifts her jewels worth millions without blinking, personally selects her presents from exclusive designer boutiques, and carefully plans intimate candlelit dinners. If that's not love, what is? Except.why do those multi-million-dollar necklaces keep finding their way to her? And why is the scarf he supposedly bought for his wife now wrapped around her neck? As the soft candlelight plays across his sharp features, something clicks inside Alice. It turns out the spoiled, pampered wife of the billionaire tycoon.has been her all along.

When her sister Jimmie is murdered on the night of her engagement, Audrey Scales is forced into an unimaginable role marrying her sister's fiancé, the obnoxious billionaire Alexander Royales. As Audrey steps into Jimmie's shoes, she must navigate a world of secrets, lies, and cold hard luxury. But revenge was her true motive until her feelings got in the way. As her heart begins to backslide her and her purpose, Audrey's moral compass is tested. Who really killed Jimmie? What is Alexander hiding? And when the truth finally surfaces, will love be enough to survive the damage betrayal has already done?

At the business dinner, my husband Aidan's business partner asked him in German, "Your mistress is two months pregnant. What are you planning to do?" Aidan smiled slightly, attentively serving me wine and food. He then replied in German, "My wife doesn't like children. I'll have Tatiana give birth and then take the child abroad to raise, just to continue the family line." I sipped my red wine, but tears quietly slipped down my cheeks. Aidan looked a bit flustered, "Why are you crying?" I forced a smile and explained, "This red wine is a bit overwhelming, it's making my eyes uncomfortable." But the wine was smooth and not very strong; the tears were because I understood German.

The scent of white lilies clung to my fingers as I arranged them in a small vase on my dresser. Three years. Three years since I'd held my daughter's hand, since I'd heard her laugh, since I'd watched her chest rise and fall with each precious breath. "It's her anniversary today," I whispered to myself, my voice catching in my throat. "She would have been six." I touched the small silver locket around my neck—the one containing a tiny portion of Lily's ashes. The weight of it against my skin was both comfort and torment. "The memorial service starts at sunset," I reminded myself, smoothing down the simple black dress I'd chosen for the occasion. "Axel promised we would do this together." My fingers traced the fading mark on my neck—once a vibrant symbol of our eternal bond, now barely visible except to my touch. The mate bond between us had weakened over the years, but surely today—on this day of all days—he would remember what mattered. I made my way through the Pack House corridors, my footsteps echoing against the marble floors.

I spent an hour on my dress that morning. It was the nicest thing I owned — a soft cream-colored wrap dress I'd found at a thrift shop in the nearest town, fourteen miles from the cottage. I'd taken in the waist myself, stitching it by hand with the same patience I used for everything out here. Three years of patience. Three years of learning to make do, make small, make quiet. I pressed it flat with a warm iron and hung it on the back of the bathroom door while I braided my hair. Then I unbraided it. Then I left it down, the way Damian used to say he liked it, loose around my shoulders, long enough to cover the mark on my neck. My wolf stirred as I pulled on my coat. Not an excited stir — something else.

My mate never lets me touch his face, and our kisses are always quick and fleeting. I’ve always wondered why, until one night when he was drunk, I discovered the secret behind it—a complete face mask hiding a stranger underneath. That night, I managed to get Caden to bed, my Beta instincts kicking in as I ensured he was safe. But as I adjusted the blanket, I noticed a strange seam where his face met his neck. Curiously, I rubbed it gently, and the seam widened as if it had been glued together. Without thinking, I gave a light tug, and suddenly, a whole face mask came off in my hand. My mind buzzed with shock, and my hands trembled uncontrollably as the mask slipped onto the bed. Panicking, I reached for my phone to call the authorities, but then I spotted the tattoo on the inside of Caden’s pinky. YQ... The initials of my name, from a tattoo we had gotten together on a trip to the Alps.

In my past life, I died alone in a sterile hospital bed while my fiancé, Dyllan, comforted his "foster sister" Heather through a fake panic attack. He missed the birth and death of our child because Heather was "too delicate" to be left alone. Even as I took my last breath, he was wiping away her crocodile tears, ignoring my desperate calls. I sacrificed my dreams, my money, and my life for him, only to be a forgotten footnote. But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the City Hall counter, the marriage license waiting. Dyllan tapped his foot impatiently, checking his phone. "Hurry up, Ivy. Heather called. She' s having an episode. She needs me." The old Ivy would have trembled and obeyed, desperate for his approval. But I just smiled, a cold, calculated expression he didn't recognize. "Go to her," I said, pushing him toward the door. "I'll handle the paperwork. Family comes first, right?" He rushed out without a backward glance, relieved to be the hero again. Left alone with the official document, I didn't write my own name on the bride's line. With a steady hand and a heart full of vengeance, I wrote Heather Rosales. Congratulations, Dyllan. You're legally married to the burden you love so much. And I am finally free.

To destroy him, I've traded my pride for a maid's uniform. My plan is simple: infiltrate his estate, seduce him into breaking his royal engagement, and lead his enemies to his doorstep. I want to see his pack burn. I want to see the light leave those storm-grey eyes as how he did to my mate

To save my husband, the crime lord of this city, I took a bullet to the gut. As I lay dying, Dante didn't even glance my way. He was too busy shielding his mistress, Camilla, checking her for scratches. When I woke in the hospital, I found out that while I was unconscious, my brother had called, screaming for help. Camilla answered my phone. She told Dante it was just a prank. The next morning, my brother was found dead in a dumpster. When I confronted Dante, he defended her innocence, told me not to make a federal case out of it. He forcibly removed my grandmother's heirloom ring from my finger and slipped it onto hers. He mocked me for being unable to bear his heir, completely disregarding the fact that I'd lost that ability five years ago, taking shrapnel for him. Camilla delivered the final cut: our marriage license was never registered. Ten years. I was never his legal wife. He thought I was trapped. He thought without the Moretti name, I was nothing. But I didn't cry. I went to the guest room and packed my knives, not my clothes. Two years later, I run the only security firm that can rival his. When a man, his face a ruin, appeared at my brother's grave begging for forgiveness, I felt neither love nor hate. "I'm free," I said.

IN LOVE WITH MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS (He Is Betrothed But He Is Mine!!) BLURB “Mr Geal, we can't please.” her voice breaks as he trailed his fingers down jaw to her lips. Her breath comes out in gasps as she tightens her legs together, “Please, you are betrothed.” she murmured. His hands move to her neck where he tightens them whispering, “It doesn't matter,” he growls, his fingers finding their way beneath my skirt. “I am yours anyway.” He doesn't give her a second before his fingers sweep her panties aside, and find their way home. “Holy hell-” the rest of the words is jumbled in her throat as he slams his lips against hers ~~~~~~ Olivia Macurry, a woman whose lifetime goal was to stop stripping. She wanted no more than a white collar job where she wouldn't have to open her legs to get paid. After getting ordered by a man who paid fifteen thousand dollars to have her for the night, she agreed but she didn't keep to the bargain. Now her new boss is the same blue eyed man that paid for a night with her, the same man she left when he was in the bathroom barely an hour after their first round. But it's too late because he wants her again. Just a taste, and he's addicted. He won't let her go, not even when he is buried six feet under. He can't stop, he must have her after all he paid for a night. Obsession turns into attraction. Attraction turns into possession. Possession turns into pure madness. He refuses to let her go yet he is betrothed to another. Secrets, lies, betrayal, and anger drives their relationship towards madness as everything is turned upside. But then Leonardo's best quality was that he thrived in chaos, and even though he is betrothed he belonged to her. Body, mind, and fucking soul.

The alarm blared at 4:00 AM, jolting me from the few precious hours of sleep I'd managed. I silenced it quickly, not wanting the sound to carry down the hallway to Evan's room. He needed his rest—or so I thought. I padded barefoot across the cold marble floor of the Porter penthouse kitchen, my fingers automatically reaching for the light switch. The sterile, high-tech kitchen gleamed under the sudden brightness—all stainless steel and polished granite, designed for a chef who never cooked. Except me, of course. "Twenty-seven layers," I whispered to myself, pulling out the ingredients. "Butter at exactly 62 degrees." My hands moved with practiced precision as I began kneading the dough. The scars on my palms—tiny cuts from years of careless handling of sharp tools—tingled slightly as they always did when I worked. I'd learned to ignore the pain.

The crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand ballroom, but nothing could warm the chill in my heart as I stood alone among the sea of dignitaries. The annual Moon Ceremony was supposed to be our pack's most sacred celebration—a time when the Alpha and Luna stood together before the Moon Goddess's blessing. Yet here I was, forcing smile after smile, explaining away Cameron's absence with practiced excuses. "Luna Brooke," Elder Morris approached with a raised glass, "another successful year for Silverclaw. Though I wonder where Alpha Cameron might be?" I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the whispers that followed me like shadows. "He's handling some urgent pack business. He'll join us shortly for the Alpha Toast." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Five years of marriage, and I still didn't know where my husband spent his evenings—only that it wasn't by my side. "Of course," Elder Morris nodded, though his eyes said he knew better. "Though it's unusual for an Alpha to miss the blessing." I nodded politely and moved on, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

After five brutal years of war between the Italian La Famiglia De Luca and the Mexican La Mano Roja, Capo Ivan De Luca seeks a desperate alliance with Russia's feared Bratva, led by the ruthless Pakhan Sergei Morozov. The Pakhan agrees-but demands a price: a marriage between his heir, Mikhail Morozov, and one of Ivan's daughters. Reluctantly, Ivan accepts, knowing the union could save his famiglia. Mikhail, a half-Russian, half-Cuban heir forged in violence, believes emotion is weakness and mercy a sin. Donatella De Luca, Ivan's sharp-tongued and fearless second daughter, is the last woman who'd bow to any man-least of all a Bratva heir. When Sergei chooses Donatella as the bride, a dangerous game of loyalty, power, and forbidden attraction begins. As war brews and alliances shift, Donatella must decide if she can survive Mikhail's cold world-or melt the heart of the devil himself.

"I will never sleep with a man like you," Selena said as she rolled her eyes at him. "We will see about that," smirked. ________________________________ Selena's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches the eye of the notorious mafia boss, Aiden Frazier. Drawn in by his charm and dangerous allure, she becomes enmeshed in his world of power, violence, and intrigue. But as she falls deeper in love with him, she begins to realize the true cost of being involved with a man like Aiden - a cost that could ultimately lead to her demise. Will their passion be enough to overcome the surrounding danger, or will their fiery romance be the downfall of them.

Odessa Sloane was an ordinary girl, trying to navigate life as an omega in a thriving pack until her mother married a billionaire and she became step-sisters to her arch enemy. To make matters worse, her fated mate appears, and he's off-limits. All Odessa wants to do is make it through college and hopefully craft a career as a physiotherapist, but that's difficult when the Pack's Alpha is hot on your back. Maverick isn't just the captain of the football team. He's the Alpha Heir. Maverick's focus was on having the best football year of his career with his two best friends, Storm and Gage, by his side, but that changed when an omega came into his life. His passion for her burns as strong as his love for the sport. As Maverick's life comes under threat because his time to become Alpha nears, he has to protect Odessa. Odessa and Maverick must navigate the dynamics of their relationships while a mystery blooms surrounding Odessa's biological father and the real reasons behind the attacks on Maverick. Will their love survive the infernos of life?

The early morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of my family's bridal chamber, casting a soft glow over the white ceremonial gown that hung waiting for me. Today was supposed to be the beginning of my forever—the day Brandon Hayes, future Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack, would officially claim me as his Luna before our pack and the Moon Goddess herself. My fingers trembled as I smoothed the delicate fabric of the dress against my body. The sweet, heady scent of rose-herb incense filled the room, the traditional fragrance meant to bless a mate bonding ceremony. I inhaled deeply, letting the aroma calm my racing heart. "Are you ready?" Silver, my wolf, whispered in my mind, her excitement palpable. "I've been ready my whole life," I murmured back, reaching for the mate mark pendant Brandon had given me six months ago when he'd asked me to be his Luna. The silver crescent moon caught the light as I fastened it around my neck, the cool metal settling against my collarbone like a promise. I studied my reflection in the mirror. The white dress hugged my curves before flowing gracefully to the floor, the traditional silver embroidery along the neckline symbolizing the eternal bond between mates.

Hello, my name is Katrina, and my family has to take me to another pack since I don't have a wolf. Whose current alpha murdered his own father to become alpha. My new life began in a foreign place, and despite initial challenges with Nina-who was emotionally invested in the alpha-I eventually triumphed. The alpha's wolf found out one day that I didn't have a wolf despite my best attempts to hide the fact. Instead of treating me with disgust, striking me, or throwing me out, Alpha Antony lavished me with love and care. After a lot of hardship, I made the transformation and became the true Luna with a wolf .

Janice had seen Karl's affection and felt his betrayal. On their anniversary, while she was in pain and bleeding, Karl left her on the street to see his lover. She bore it and tricked him into signing the divorce papers. "I want you gone!" After divorce, she reclaimed her status as a billionaire heiress, with her three brothers doting on her and making her a rich darling. When Karl saw what he'd thrown, he regretted it. He tore up the divorce papers. "I don't agree to the divorce!" Declan moved through high society as an untouchable man. Janice avoided him, but they kept meeting. At a party, her ex harassed her. Declan came and saved her. She thanked him, only for him to whisper, "Don't thank me. Marry me?" ***

Brandon Nichols broke the mate bond with me abruptly and soon mated with a younger packmate. As I approached thirty, my attempts at finding a mate through pack matchmakers continuously ended in rejection. Five years later, at a pack gathering, they appeared as a glamorous middle-class couple, arriving in a sleek Mercedes, sporting tailored Patagonia gear, and carrying Louis Vuitton bags. Meanwhile, I arrived on a bicycle and found myself feeling out of place in the corner. Someone with mischief in mind asked, “Kendra, why isn’t your mate here?” I smiled and said, “He’s busy ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange.” I first met Brandon during our first year in the Silvermoon Pack. New to the bustling city, I was stopped at the pack gates by an elderly couple asking for travel money. When I declined, they followed and berated me, “So young, yet lacking any kindness! No wolf would ever want a heartless girl like you!” Flustered, I turned red with anger. Just then, Brandon appeared with a group of friends, exuding youthful bravado. He stood out as the most handsome and confident, holding a Wilson basketball and wearing limited-edition sneakers.

From the moment I was born, I didn’t cry or make a sound. Because this was my second time living. I thought I was strange enough, but my twin sister, Alayah, was even stranger. “We’re not real sisters,” she said, her voice soft but firm. I froze, unsure how a one-year-old werewolf pup was supposed to react. She continued, “Since I’ve taken your sister’s place, I’ll take care of you.” My heart slowly settled back into place. So that’s what she meant. --- I often wondered if she could see things I couldn’t. When we were alone in our shared room, she would sometimes stare into the air, her tiny fists clenched, her eyes wild with excitement. “A huge bowl of spaghetti, I’m going to devour it,” she’d mutter.

The convoy crawled through the dense forest, sunlight filtering through the canopy in dappled patterns across the winding road. I sat in the backseat of the sleek black car, my fingers tracing the delicate silver embroidery on the ceremonial Luna wreath resting in my lap. Today was supposed to be everything I'd worked for—my mate ceremony with Evan, the unveiling of the rare healing herb I'd discovered after years of research, and my official induction as Luna of the Moonveil Pack. I pressed my fingertips together, a habit I'd developed when nervous excitement bubbled in my chest. The herb discovery was the crown jewel of my career. I'd spent countless nights in the wilderness, cataloging every plant, testing every combination, until I found it—a healing essence that could accelerate wolf regeneration by nearly forty percent. The pack elders had been impressed when I'd presented my preliminary findings. "We're almost there, Miss Davis," my driver said, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "Alpha Marcus is waiting at the Pack House." My father. The thought of his proud smile made my heart swell.

I was reviewing the laundering accounts when my husband asked for a hundred thousand dollars for the nanny. It took three seconds for me to realize the woman he was trying to pay off was wearing my missing vintage Chanel earrings. Damian looked me in the eye, using his best doctor's voice. "She is struggling, Ainsley. She has five boys to feed." When Casey walked in, she wasn't wearing a uniform. She was wearing my jewelry and looking at my husband with intimate familiarity. Instead of apologizing when I confronted them, Damian protected her. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and disgust. "She is a good mother," he sneered. "Something you wouldn't understand." He used the infertility I had spent millions trying to cure as a weapon against me. He didn't know that I had just received the investigator's file. The file that proved those five boys were his. The file that proved he had gotten a secret vasectomy six months before we started trying for a baby. He had let me endure years of painful procedures, hormones, and shame, all while funding his secret family with my father's money. I looked at the man I had shielded from the violence of my world so he could play god in a white coat. I didn't scream. I am a Pierce. We execute. I picked up my phone and dialed my enforcer. "I want him ruined. I want him to have nothing. I want him to wish he was dead."

Note that the famale lead real name is isabella,not Mirabel.It was corrected to isabella in chapter two. Love unspeakable volume one (part one). Novel synopsis Betrayed and abandoned by James, who is deceived into believing she is a prostitute, Isabella Laurent loses everything including love, trust, and family wealth. Alone and heartbroken, she meets Frederick, a billionaire scarred by betrayal, who helps her rediscover love and faith. As their bond grows, Isabella rises in Frederick's company, turning heartbreak into power, intelligence, and influence. But darkness lingers. Janet and Lydia, jealous of Isabella's strength, murdered her father and stole his fortune. Now, they fear her ascent and plot her downfall. Veronica, Frederick's cunning ex, returns with a child and falsified DNA tests, attempting to claim him. Frederick resists, but can he protect Isabella from a web of lies, deceit, and danger? Will Isabella reclaim her father's legacy? Can love survive amidst betrayal and ambition? And who truly watches from the shadows, ready to strike when least expected?

For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace. Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door. The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own. My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table. "Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered. My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate. They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal. I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for. I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods. Let them see how long they survive without my money.