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Liora Jovan’s life shatters the moment she catches her boyfriend cheating, her Valentine proposal ruined. In a reckless act of humiliation and fury, she proposes to a stranger in the lobby… who turns out to be Everett Montague, her ex’s billionaire boss. Amused and dangerously charming, Everett offers a fake three-month engagement to serve his own needs—and her revenge. The rules are clear: no real feelings, separate lives, public affection only. When fake turns into something intoxicatingly real, a buried secret threatens to tear them apart.

The notification sound from my phone cut through the clinking of silverware and polite dinner conversation like a knife. Then another. And another. "Charlotte, your phone's been buzzing non-stop," my father said, his brow furrowed with concern. "Everything alright?" I reached for my phone with trembling fingers, expecting maybe a few messages from friends about the charity gala tomorrow. But what I saw made my blood freeze. "OMG did you see Charlotte Ross's Instagram live?" The message was from my friend Madison, followed by a screenshot that made my stomach lurch. There I was—or rather, images of me that should have remained private forever—being broadcast across every social media platform. My intimate photos, taken in what I thought was the safety of my own home, now displayed for the world to see. "Charlotte?" My father's voice seemed distant as I scrolled through the notifications flooding in.

The Grand Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton glittered with champagne flutes and camera flashes. I smoothed down my custom Valentino gown—a sleek ivory column with subtle crystal beading that caught the light with every movement. The engagement party I'd spent months planning was finally happening. "Ms. Rivera, the photographer from Vogue wants to know if you'd mind posing by the fountain," my assistant whispered, her eyes wide with excitement. I nodded, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction. Everything was perfect—the orchid centerpieces flown in from Thailand, the champagne tower, the guest list that read like a Who's Who of business and society. All for Castiel and me. "Five minutes until the announcement, Fiona," Marcus Rivera, my father's trusted lawyer and our family friend, appeared at my elbow. "Your father sends his regrets again—the merger talks in Tokyo couldn't be rescheduled." "He'll see the photos tomorrow," I said, twisting the diamond ring Castiel had given me three weeks ago.

I sat in the Alpha suite, convincing myself I had done the right thing. I had just rejected Alex, my fated mate. She was a weak Omega, and my pack needed a strong Luna like Iliana. But then, I overheard my twin children whispering in the backseat of the car. "My tummy hurts, Kenny," my daughter whimpered. "It's the special juice Auntie Iliana gave us. It tastes like fire." My blood ran cold. I demanded a toxicology report immediately. The results nearly brought me to my knees: Wolfsbane. The woman I had placed on a pedestal, the woman I broke my bond for, had been slowly poisoning my heirs to clear her path to power. I executed Iliana’s punishment and immediately turned the convoy around, racing toward the Silver Moon territory where Alex had taken refuge. I clutched the old silver engagement ring in my sweating palm. I was the Alpha. We were fated. I could fix this. She would forgive me once she knew the truth. But when I arrived, I didn't find a broken woman waiting for her savior. I found a Goddess. Alex stood on the dais, her skin glowing with the legendary bioluminescence of the White Wolf bloodline. Standing protectively beside her was Daniel Sosa, the most ruthless Alpha in the region. I rushed forward, falling to my knees and holding up the ring. "Alex, please! I made a mistake! Come home!" The crowd went silent. I waited for her to cry, to run into my arms. Instead, she looked at me with eyes devoid of love. "You didn't just break my heart, Gavyn," she said coldly. "You broke the sacred law." Then, she turned to Daniel. "Watch, Gavyn," she whispered, her voice carrying on the wind. "This is what real love looks like." She pulled Daniel down and kissed him, and the world exploded in silver light, sealing a new bond right before my eyes.

Ellen had spent ten years cleaning her husband's home, a quiet devotion to the man who demanded her constant labor. But while vacuuming under their bed, her world shattered with a single, horrifying discovery. Hidden away was a secret phone, revealing a life her husband had built with another woman and child for the past eight years. A decade of devoted homemaking for Adrian in their Los Angeles home was Ellen’s life. While cleaning, she found a hidden compartment and a new iPhone, which she shockingly unlocked. The wallpaper revealed Adrian with a secret family in Austin—a double life since her own pregnancy. Texts detailed a $1.2 million house and lavish expenses for “Angel.” Adrian stirred, forcing Ellen to hide the device. Her son was denied a $200 class, while her $50,000 inheritance funded Adrian’s secret family. Rage replaced her tears. Ellen photographed all incriminating details, hid the phone, and forced a submissive smile. Her quiet devotion was over; her war had just begun.

The fluorescent lights of Seattle General Hospital buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting everyone beneath them in a sickly, unforgiving glow. I stared at Mr. Harrison's perfectly knotted tie, unable to meet his eyes as his words crashed over me like icy water. "I'm afraid we need a payment of $150,000 within the week, Ms. Brooks," he said, his voice clinically detached. "Otherwise, we'll have to cancel your mother's surgery." My throat constricted. "There must be something—" "We've already extended every possible courtesy." He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, glancing at his tablet. "Your insurance coverage is exhausted, and the payment plans you've proposed don't meet our minimum requirements." I wanted to scream, to grab him by his starched collar and demand how he could reduce my mother's life to a dollar amount. Instead, I swallowed hard, nodding mechanically as he continued detailing the administrative process of canceling life-saving procedures. When he finally walked away, his leather shoes clicking efficiently down the corridor, I slumped against the wall.

The moment finally arrived at my wedding with Sylas Evans, the part where the groom is supposed to kiss the bride. Instead, Sylas shoved me aside and kissed the bridesmaid standing behind me. After the brazen display, he turned back to me nonchalantly and said, “Nellie, Autumn mentioned she'd never get married. She just wanted a taste of what a wedding feels like. This was something we agreed on before, so let’s carry on with the ceremony.” I stood there, watching the whispers among the guests and seeing the smug glint in Autumn's eyes. I smiled and said, “How about you borrow the whole wedding? Might as well take over completely.” Feigning hesitation, Sylas responded, “This doesn’t seem right, but if you insist, I won't object.” I nodded, “I don’t mind. Just make sure you cover the wedding bill.” I added, “It’s not much, just over a million dollars.” “What do you mean by that, Nellie?” Sylas's face changed dramatically. I ignored him, took the microphone from the host, and said loudly, “Dear friends and family, I apologize for the spectacle today. The wedding will proceed, but I will not be the bride.

I fled the hellish mental hospital with a dislocated shoulder, only to run into Damian-my once-love, now hating me for a lie. To keep him pure, I'd lied about Kathleen's death, letting him believe I'd chosen my life over hers. "You slut deserve to rot in the mud!" he spat, letting Brielle-my torturer-twist the truth. They broke me: beatings scarred my body, forced liver donation paralyzed me. Yet I clung to our fragments, carving his name into my flesh. In the end, fire consumed me. I couldn't run-my legs were useless. Burning, I prayed he'd find peace. Later, I heard he'd learned the truth. "Emily!" His frantic roar echoed by the sea. But I'd already turned to ash.

Twelve years of love, loyalty, and promises-shattered in one gunshot moment. Aria thought she knew what love meant: sacrifices, patience, blind faith in the man she'd called her fiancé for over a decade. But on Valentine's Day, with a gun pointed in their direction, Liam instinctively shielded his ex, Sophia-while Aria was left bleeding and invisible. "You almost died!" "And he didn't even look at me, Lili. He wrapped his arms around her like I was nothing." Torn between heartbreak and dignity, Aria makes a bold move-marrying Liam's wealthy rival, Aiden Carter, in an impulsive act of revenge. But Aiden is more than a rebound. He's powerful, possessive, and unexpectedly protective-and he plays for keeps. Now caught between a love that failed her, and a man who may demand more than she's ready to give. Aria's heart faces the ultimate reckoning. Will she finally become someone's first choice-or lose herself trying?

On my 21st birthday, my fiancé Chandler and my adoptive sister Brenda drugged me and sold my first night at a secret auction. Then they framed me for arson, and I spent the next three years in prison learning how to survive. After my release, I fought in underground clubs, bleeding for the money to buy back my family's brownstone. But Chandler found me, calling me a "common harlot" as he tried to drag me home. He offered me a "last chance" to apologize to Brenda for the crimes she committed. When I refused, he publicly announced the sale of my home. All proceeds would be donated to the "Brenda Richardson Philanthropic Foundation." He didn't just take my money; he took my soul. He took the last tangible piece of my parents, of my identity. Everything was gone. As I collapsed onto the grimy floor, my world shattered, I fumbled for my phone. There was only one name left, one last hope. "Brien," I choked out, my voice broken. "Please. I need your help. Get me out of here."

To marry the man I loved, I held a shard of glass to my wrist and threatened my guardian, Alois Wyatt. "If you don't let me marry Erick, I will die right here." The second he reluctantly agreed, the horrifying truth of my past life slammed into me. Erick, the man I’d fought to marry, had never loved me. He’d locked me in a European asylum for three years, tortured me, and left me to die in a fiery car crash. I dropped the glass and threw myself into Alois’s arms, sobbing that it was all a joke. I begged him to take me home, swearing I'd rather die than marry Erick. But my sudden change was met with cold suspicion. To him and his friends, I was a snake playing a new, pathetic game, trying to steal his corporate secrets for my pathetic lover. The most painful part was that they were right. In my past life, I had betrayed Alois, destroyed his reputation, and left him to die a broken man, all for a monster who saw me as nothing more than a tool. But now, opening my eyes again on the very night my nightmare began, I have a second chance. This time, I will cling to the only man who ever truly protected me, and I will make Erick pay for everything he did to us.

On our fourth wedding anniversary, I prepared a perfect home-cooked dinner for my husband, Carlisle. But the moment he walked in, he threw a marital settlement agreement right onto the table. "Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore." His mother and sister immediately marched in to supervise my packing, calling me a barren gold-digger and trying to smash my late mother's only keepsake. I signed the papers and walked out into the freezing night, thinking the nightmare was finally over. But the next day, a heavily edited video of a childhood friend helping me into his car went viral online. Carlisle's PR team released a public statement branding me a cheating wife, completely destroying my reputation. He let the world tear me apart, using my ruined name to play the victim and justify bringing his first love home. I had sacrificed my own dreams and endured his family's endless abuse for four years, only to be discarded like trash and framed for the exact emotional cheating he had been doing all along. Watching the vile comments flood my screen, my heartbreak hardened into pure, unbreakable ice. I calmly picked up my phone and dialed my father's number. "Dad, it's time. I want to come home and take over Mcneil Industries."

The bright lights of the television studio felt like they were burning into my skin as I sat in the audience, my fingers nervously twisting the wedding ring on my left hand. The "Perfect Pitch Challenge" logo flashed across the massive screens, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation. My husband, Leonardo Patterson, stood center stage in his perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair swept back with that familiar artistic flair that had first drawn me to him five years ago. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," the host announced with theatrical flair, "the moment we've all been waiting for! Our very own Mozart of the Modern Age will attempt to identify twenty different voices in our ultimate challenge!" I leaned forward in my seat, my heart pounding against my ribs. This was it—the moment Leonardo would show the world what I'd known since we were children: his extraordinary gift for sound. "First up," the host continued, pressing a button that triggered a recorded voice through the studio speakers, "is a voice from Hollywood!" A sultry female voice filled the room: "Hello, my darlings!" Leonardo closed his eyes, that familiar look of intense concentration settling over his features. His right hand began tapping invisible rhythms against his thigh—a habit I'd grown to love over the years. "That's Scarlett Johansson," he said confidently after just three words. "The slight rasp in her lower register is distinctive, especially on the 'r' sound." The audience erupted in applause as the host confirmed his correct answer.

The blue glow of my computer screen cast shadows across the mahogany desk as I worked through another late night. The penthouse was silent except for the occasional car horn twenty stories below and the soft tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. Michael had long since gone to bed, leaving me alone with quarterly projections and acquisition proposals—the usual Friday night for Catherine Morrison, CEO of Morrison Tech Solutions. I reached for the drawer where I kept backup files, needing the insurance documents for our latest corporate expansion. My hand brushed against a folder I didn't recognize, tucked behind the others. Curious, I pulled it out—a plain manila envelope with no label. Not my usual meticulous filing system. "What's this?" I murmured, opening it to find medical documents. Old ones, judging by the yellowing edges. The first page was a paternity test.

Brendan Cook was a renowned geologist. Eight months into my pregnancy, he gifted me a beautiful amethyst, and I thought it was a symbol of his affection. That belief was shattered on his birthday when I decided to surprise him by quietly sneaking into the trunk of his car. I overheard him speaking to his lover, whom he called his "moonbeam." “That amethyst,” he said, “I found it during a geological survey. It’s radioactive and will harm the baby.” “When the time comes, I’ll persuade her to end the pregnancy so you won’t feel envious.” I felt numb all over. Instead of making a scene, I calmly scheduled the procedure to terminate the pregnancy and sent a report to his workplace. I had just hidden in the trunk when Brendan got into the car. At the same time, Violette Martinez joined him, settling into the passenger seat. Brendan gently fastened her seatbelt and tossed out the small pillow I used for lumbar support. I froze, struggling to believe what I was seeing.

Melody Sterling was the perfect, pampered suburban wife until her husband, Julian Vance, used their fifth anniversary backyard barbecue to announce he was divorcing her for his pregnant mistress, Chloe Ashford. Locked out of her fully paid-off home and stripped of her inheritance, the sheltered good girl is left shivering in the rain. She is taken in by Kael Lawson, the neighborhood's terrifying, heavily tattooed ex-military mechanic. When Melody discovers Julian drained her parents' trust fund to pay off local loan sharks, she wipes her tears and picks up a crowbar. Traded her pastel dresses for Kael’s leather jackets, Melody learns how to fight. Together, they will tear down Julian’s pristine suburban facade and burn his life to the ground.

Dating Milana for three years, I never acknowledged our relationship publicly. As Alpha of my pack, every move I made was scrutinized, and I couldn’t risk the scandal of being tied to a Beta, no matter how brilliant she was. But when Nova came into my life, I wasted no time making her my Luna. At the pack’s gathering, I proudly introduced her, our matching mate bracelets glinting under the lights—a symbol of our bond. Nova, perched on my lap, casually scrolled through my phone, her sharp eyes catching the contact labeled “doormat.” She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Who’s this?” she asked, her voice light but laced with suspicion. I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “Oh, just someone I used to see for… specific reasons,” I said, my tone dismissive. “Nothing compared to my darling Nova.” The room erupted in laughter, the sound echoing through the grand hall. One of the pack members, a Delta, raised his glass with a grin.

I took the fall for my sister and endured three years of torment in prison. My knee was shattered, my body covered in scars, and I almost lost my life in that "accident". On the day I was released, clinging to the last shred of hope, I ran toward my fiancé Benito’s Maybach—only to hear his cold voice: "Your existence is just a nuisance."​ It turned out that the beatings and cigarette burns in prison were all arranged by him, paid for with his money. It turned out that the sister I had protected with all my heart had long been switching my medicine behind my back, hoping I would be completely crippled.​ At the family gala, they joined hands to strip me bare in front of the flashing camera lights. My father slapped me hard across the face and roared: "Why didn’t you just die in prison?"​ I smiled and tore apart my tattered dress, then dialed the number I had hidden in my heart for three years—the man who only understood blood for blood, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Turn around."​ This time, I will no longer be a toy to be manipulated. I will tear off their masks and burn the Stafford family to the ground.​ By the way, I will take back everything that belongs to me—including him, the one hiding in the shadows.

Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt. Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay. The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny. Then came the betrayal. On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack. "Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment." Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed. Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow. The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed. The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back. But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore. She's a mother with claws. A luna who learned to bite. And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees. Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet. Some bonds can't be broken. Some rejections come with claws. And some second chances are paid for in blood.

The letter arrived on a Tuesday. It came in a cream envelope with the Aldermoor Academy crest embossed in navy on the upper left corner. I recognized it immediately. I had been waiting for the enrollment confirmation for weeks — the final piece, the last formality before Lilah's future clicked into place. I set my coffee down and opened it at the kitchen table. Dear Ms. Bennett-Hawkins, We regret to inform you that the admission placement previously reserved for Lilah Hawkins has been reassigned to another applicant. We wish Lilah the very best in her academic journey. I read it once. Then I read it again.

For three years, I played the silent, deaf wife to Kade, completely oblivious to his toxic betrayal. Then my hearing returned, only for me to hear my daughter asking when his pregnant mistress was moving in. As I plotted my untraceable escape, I collided with Ryker Vance—the city’s most dangerous underground king and Kade's ultimate superior. Ryker didn’t just uncover my secret; he weaponized it. While my husband parades his mistress in the light, Ryker devours me in the shadows. Kade thinks he can betray me and keep me. But Ryker is about to show him what taking what's his truly looks like.

Upon returning to her past life, the first thing Nalani Bennett did was instruct her father to keep a close eye on Raiden Harvey, the mailman, at the entrance of the village every day. In her previous life, Eiden Parker had intercepted her college acceptance letter to give to his beloved, causing Nalani to "fail" her college entrance exams. With no resources to retake the exam, she had no choice but to honor their engagement and marry Eiden Parker. While he pursued his studies in the city, she stayed behind to care for his widowed mother. For thirty years she worked tirelessly, nurturing the elderly and raising the children, only to be rewarded with Eiden's declaration that they had nothing in common. To marry his true love, he went so far as to poison her. When Nalani opened her eyes again, she found herself back at the time of the acceptance letter distributions. This time, she vowed, he would have no chance to use her future as a stepping stone for someone else. Nalani's mind snapped back to reality, and the first thing she heard was the grating chatter of Eiden Parker in her ear, "Nalani, Mr. Gomez said they’ve started delivering the acceptance letters.

At eighteen years old, Estelle is kicked out of the only place she knew as home. With nowhere left to go, she goes toward Club Paradise, a place that offers the basic amenities she lacks: food, clothes, shelter, and a well-paying job. *** The room was thick with smoke and muted chatter, but the moment Antonio D'Amico's eyes landed on her, the world narrowed to just her. Estelle froze, heart hammering, as if some unseen force had pulled her into his gaze. He didn't move at first, simply studied her with a cold, calculating intensity that sent a shiver straight down her spine. One night with him shifts the course of her life forever. Something in him fractures; obsession blooms, dangerous, consuming and he decides to take her away, forever. *** What will happen to Estelle? Will her fortune finally turn around, or is she about to experience hell... and an unexpected, forbidden bond growing inside the darkness?

The graphite tip of my pencil snapped against the paper, a sharp *crack* that echoed in the vaulted silence of the penthouse. I didn't curse. I just stared at the notation I’d made—a complex sequence of pirouettes that would soon torture the principal dancers of *Dance Rivals*. To the world, these scribbles belonged to "S," the phantom choreographer reshaping modern ballet. To me, they were just another Tuesday morning. "Mama, look! Like a swan!" Willa spun across the polished oak floor of my private studio, her arms undulating with a grace that wasn't taught, but inherited. Seven years old, and she already possessed the arch and extension I hadn't developed until I was ten. "Beautiful, my love," I said, my voice soft. I sealed the choreography inside a plain manila envelope.