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The man smiling in the silver frame on my vanity was the very same man who, in exactly three months, would wrap his hands around my throat. I knew this because I had already died. I had felt the freezing, silty water of the Hudson River fill my lungs while Alexander watched the life drain from my eyes, his mistress laughing in the background. I had hovered like a ghost above my own funeral, watching the betrayal continue even after my death. My mother, the perfect Mafia widow, stood stoically next to my killer, unaware she had sold her daughter to a butcher. My fiancé checked his watch, bored, waiting to liquidate my inheritance. But then I saw him. Darrian Golden. The Don of the rival clan. The enemy. He stood in the pouring rain, his expensive suit soaked through, staring at my coffin as if the world had ended. When the earth hit the wood, he didn't just cry; he roared in primal agony. My fiancé killed me, but my enemy was the only one who mourned me. "The Commission is waiting," my mother’s voice snapped the timeline back into place. She stood in my doorway, demanding I set the engagement date to secure the territory. She saw a charming Capo; I saw the rat who had cut my father's brake lines. In my first life, I was a trembling bird. In this life, I was the match that would burn the cage down. I smashed the photo frame against the marble table, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot. "Contact the Golden Clan," I commanded. My mother went pale. "He is a savage, Azalea. He butchers men for sport." "Tell Don Golden that Azalea Kidd is offering a parley," I said, looking out the window at the city that would soon be ours. "Tell him I am offering the only thing he has ever wanted: Me."

Anna Williams never imagined her life would collide with Alexander Knight-the cold, ruthless CEO feared across industries. When fate pushes her into his path, she discovers that power and wealth come with dangerous chains. Bound by a contract she can't escape, Anna must navigate his world of secrets, betrayal, and a passion that burns hotter than she ever dreamed. But behind his icy exterior lies a man scarred by trust and haunted by loss. Will she be able to melt the billionaire's heart, or will she remain just another possession... claimed by the CEO?

To save her brother's life, she signs a one-year marriage contract with a cold, powerful billionaire. No love. No intimacy. No feelings involved. At least-that was the deal. Living under the same roof with Adrian Blackwood, she slowly discovers a man who protects her in silence, shields her from his ruthless family, and watches her like she's already his world. What she doesn't know is that this marriage was never business to him. He has loved her for years-quietly, painfully-waiting for a chance that finally came disguised as a contract. When the truth is revealed and the contract ends, will love be enough to keep them together... or will she walk away from the man who loved her first? A slow-burn billionaire romance filled with fake marriage, hidden love, heartbreak, and redemption.

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear.

Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust. Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state. She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."

My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach. Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess. The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings. Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me. To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive. I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger. But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear. "Stay here and don't starve." I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.

My name is Lena, and until last week, my biggest worry was the late return fees at the library where I work. I was ordinary, invisible, and I liked it that way. Then a pack of rogue werewolves attacked me in a dark alley, and two monsters saved my life-or so I thought. The first was Caspian, a vampire prince carved from ice and centuries of solitude. His gaze held no warmth, yet when he looked at me, something ancient and hungry flickered in his eyes. The second was Kael, the Alpha of the Northern pack, all burning muscles and wild possessiveness. He took one sniff of my skin and declared me his "mate" without a second thought. Now I'm caught between a cold, opulent castle and a warm, chaotic pack territory. Caspian's touch sends shivers down my spine, while Kael's fierce protection makes me feel safe for the first time in years. They are sworn enemies, bound by a blood feud older than any city, yet both refuse to let me go. But the real danger isn't their rivalry. Strange things are happening to my body-I can hear thoughts, heal faster, and the full moon sings to my blood. I'm not just a human caught between two worlds. I am the last of the Hybrid Blood, a forgotten lineage that could either unite the species or destroy them all. And the one who controls me, controls the night.

For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit. But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear. When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out. "You're just window dressing, a liability." They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed. What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician. Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve. Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup. When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly. Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.

The clock read 11:45 PM when I finally untied my apron at Rosie's Diner. My feet throbbed in protest, and the small of my back ached from hours of carrying plates and refilling coffee cups. But there was no time to rest. Marcus needed me. "Heading out already, Sophia?" Chloe asked, concern etching her tired features as she wiped down the counter. "You look dead on your feet, honey." I forced a smile while checking my phone again. Three missed calls from Marcus, each voicemail more pitiful than the last. "*Soph, please... I'm feeling so weak today. Could you bring some of your chicken soup?

"Don’t move an inch, continue fucking her!" I screamed. "Asssshley pleassse!" He pleaded, with tears coming out of his eyes. "What’s that? No! Don’t cry, you are a guy. Don’t you want this?" I asked, glaring at him. Ashley Barbie Gates, a pimp, a sex addict, and queen of the streets, was a lover of hot guys. She had sex with all the hot guys that came her way, and even ruined her mother’s life because of it by having an affair with her stepfather. She was heartbroken when she found her best friend in bed with her boyfriend. She swore to take revenge on all men and always dump them, but she was stuck between a rock and a hard place when she was asked by her father to get married as soon as possible. Xander Aiden Carter, a police officer, found himself entangled with the mafia queen when his sister sold him to her. How will he escape from her clutches? When he is in constant torment by her. How will she let go of her hatred for men and settle down with just one man? And who will it be? Who will melt the heart of the broken queen?

The morning sun slanted through the glass tower of Archer Design, casting the interview room in honeyed light that felt too warm, too exposing. I smoothed my navy pencil skirt for the third time and tried to steady my breathing. Four months of unemployment had taught me the taste of desperation, and I wouldn't let it show today. 'Your portfolio is impressive, Ms. Carroll,' said the hiring manager, a woman with kind eyes and a stack of my work spread before her. 'The layout work for Vantage Media was particularly strong.' 'Thank you,' I replied, keeping my voice level. 'I believe in letting the design speak for itself, but not letting it scream.' She smiled, and I felt a flutter of hope. The final round interview had gone better than I'd dared to expect. As I gathered my portfolio, she extended her hand. 'We'll be in touch by tomorrow morning.' Outside, Manhattan bustled with the particular energy of a Tuesday afternoon.

Lynn York never does second nights—until a reckless encounter with golden-haired Jace Carter leaves her haunted by his touch. She walks away, leaving only cash and a cold goodbye, certain she’ll never see him again. But fate has other plans. When Jace reappears as a transfer student in her economics class, his calculated charm and relentless pursuit blur the lines between revenge and obsession. Their chemistry is undeniable, but as Jace closes in—whispering secrets, igniting sparks with every accidental touch—Lynn realizes too late that she’s the one being played. A humiliating public exposure shatters her control, revealing Jace’s true motive: payback for that night she dismissed him. But beneath his cold vengeance lies a darker truth—one tied to primal instincts, ancient bonds, and a destiny neither can escape.

I had been planning this night for four years. Not in the frantic, impulsive way of someone running on rage — though the rage was there, always, a low burn behind my sternum that never fully went out. No. I had planned this the way I planned everything since Layne Anderson looked me in the eye and chose my sister over me: carefully, quietly, and without mercy. Berkley Clark didn't scream when I took her. That surprised me. She went pale and rigid, her manicured hands gripping the door of her escort vehicle as my wolves neutralized her guards in under forty seconds. I watched her eyes find me through the chaos — wide, confused, searching for something she recognized — and I felt nothing except the clean, cold satisfaction of a first move landing exactly where I'd aimed it. "Clara," she said. Just my name.

Seven years after my mate Yosef’s death, I stood before his grave, intending to honor his memory. But as I approached, I found his tombstone missing, the earth undisturbed as if it had never existed. My heart raced, and I quickly returned to Silver Moon Pack territory, seeking Alpha Ernesto. “Alpha,” I said, my voice trembling, “Yosef’s grave is gone. Please, check the pack’s records. Where is he buried?” Alpha Ernesto looked at me with a mixture of pity and regret. “Ariella,” he said gently, “Yosef’s resting place is not where you thought. He was buried beside Lorelai Wallace, the one he truly loved.” The words hit me like a physical blow. Lorelai—the woman Yosef had always carried in his heart, even after our mate bond was formed. “Yosef once told me,” Alpha Ernesto continued, his tone heavy with sorrow, “that he wished to be laid to rest with the one he had always loved, the one who truly held his heart.” Lorelai.

He's the Alpha the pack fears. She's the Beta-in-training who fears nothing. Xander Laven, Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, is known for his strength and ruthlessness. His pack respects his power, but fear is their primary response. He attends the annual gathering expecting to secure a suitable mate to bear an heir, not to find himself drawn to a fiery she-wolf who challenges his every command. Chayse Vega, a Delta from the Amber Sky Pack, is a warrior at heart. Stubborn and independent, she'd rather train than attend frivolous gatherings. She certainly wasn't looking for a mate, especially not one as arrogant and controlling as the infamous Alpha Laven.Their first encounter is explosive, a clash of wills and personalities that sparks something neither expected. He's possessive and demanding; she's defiant and sharp-tongued. The mate bond is undeniable, but can two wolves so different navigate a connection forged in growls and witty retorts? When the feared Alpha meets the fearless Delta, their world is about to change forever.

I’m a top surgeon at Mount Sinai, but at 432 Park Avenue, I’m just the invisible "placeholder wife" of Fletcher Montgomery. After three months of silence, I didn’t hear from my husband; I found out he was back in New York via a news alert tracking his private jet. When he finally walked into our penthouse, he didn't bring a greeting—he brought the scent of another woman’s perfume and a heart full of ice. He looked at me with pure revulsion, telling me he was "tired of looking at mistakes" before slamming the bedroom door in my face. The humiliation escalated the next morning when his mother cornered me with a divorce agreement, calling our seven-year marriage a "charity project" that had run its course. She reminded me I was a "peasant" who owed the Montgomerys for saving my reputation, even as I spent my days saving lives in the OR. At a family dinner on Long Island, Fletcher turned our private struggle into a public execution. In front of his entire elite clan, he sneered that I should stop fixing other people’s hearts and figure out why my own womb was a "wasteland." When I tried to defend myself, he dragged me into his car, only to kick me out on a dark, rain-slicked street in Queens. I stood there shivering in a thin blouse, without a phone or shoes, watching his taillights disappear while a group of men whistled at me from the shadows. I couldn't understand how seven years of devotion ended with me barefoot in the mud, or why the man I once loved now treated me like a stray he regretted picking up. The injustice burned hotter than the freezing rain, fueling a cold, surgical rage I hadn't felt in years. I eventually made it back to the penthouse, but I wasn't the submissive wife anymore. I rescued my cat from the freezing terrace, fired the malicious house manager, and deadbolted the master suite from the inside. When Fletcher’s assistant called, I gave him a simple message: "Tell him the locks have changed, and the war has officially begun."

When Christina woke up in the hospital after a severe car crash, her brain didn't just recover—it mutated. She was suddenly cursed with an agonizing, high-speed hyper-memory. The first thing her new mind processed was the pristine Army uniform of her fiancé, Major Burke, and the hand of her stepsister, Corrina, casually stroking his shoulder. Every lie, every gaslighting sigh, and every secret glance between them over the past three years flashed before her eyes with merciless clarity. Christina immediately called off the engagement, demanding only one thing back: her late mother's old silver pendant. "A broken pendant? Are you really making a scene over that piece of trash?" Corrina scoffed. Burke refused to return it, letting his spoiled sister Brielle steal it to wear as a trophy. When Christina finally forced them to hand it over under the threat of a military scandal, the metal was covered in deep, ugly scratches. The arrogant Clark family treated her like a pathetic, hallucinating widow clinging to a worthless dollar-store trinket. They had no idea what they had actually been holding. Alone in her apartment, Christina pressed a drop of her blood into the pendant's scratched grooves. A blue light flared, syncing instantly with her neural implant to unlock the "Ghost Protocol"—a top-secret military archive that also held a hidden clue about her supposedly dead husband. Looking at the unimaginable power now downloaded directly into her brain, Christina knew the Clarks hadn't just thrown her away. They had handed her the world.

For three years, I was the lowest Omega in the Blackwood Pack, hopelessly devoted to my Fated Mate, Alpha Kaelen. But when I was mauled by rogues and bleeding out in the freezing forest, I desperately begged him for help through our mate link. He crushed his wolf’s instincts to save me and sent back a chilling thought before severing our connection completely. "She is a mistake. Silence." He didn't just leave me to die. The next morning, he dragged me before the entire pack, publicly rejected me, and let his people strip me of my clothes and dignity. They threw me out of the territory with nothing but a scratchy burlap sack, expecting the deadly wilderness to claim my life by nightfall. I thought my life was over, until I stumbled upon a hidden sanctuary in the woods and uncovered a horrific truth. I wasn't just a worthless Omega. I was the last surviving Matron Luna of the legendary Mooncrest Pack—a powerful pack that Kaelen's own father had brutally massacred decades ago out of pure jealousy. He thought he had discarded a piece of trash, entirely unaware of the blood feud between our families. He didn't know he had just set me free. Now, with my ancient powers awakening and my lost people gathering by my side, I am going to make the Alpha who threw me away pay for every drop of blood his family spilled.

When sarcastic, caffeine-addicted Omega River Quinn is forced to return to his hometown, Wolfwater Ridge for his brother's mating ceremony, he expects awkward family dinners and weird small-town vibes. What he doesn't expect is to be claimed as the fated mate of the new Alpha, Rowan Blackthorn his high school enemy and the same guy who once locked him in a janitor's closet for "talking too much." ‎Now, River has to navigate a mate bond he never asked for, dodge pack politics, and try not to fall for the half-naked Alpha who's suddenly very interested in "bonding rituals." But as secrets unravel and ancient magic awakens, River realizes there's more to Rowan and to himself that meets the eye. ‎And if he doesn't figure it out soon, it won't just be his heart on the line. It'll be the entire pack.

Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining. Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her. She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip. And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them. Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death. "Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free." "If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males." To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her. She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her. She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind. But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic. She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time. Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.

The morning of my fifth wedding anniversary arrived with the soft glow of early sunlight streaming through our bedroom curtains. I woke up alone, as usual. Lewis had long stopped sleeping beside me through the night. I touched the cold, empty space next to me and sighed, still clinging to the hope that today might be different. Anniversary days were special, weren't they? I found Lewis in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone with one hand while absently stirring his coffee with the other. "Good morning," I said, trying to infuse warmth into my voice. "Happy anniversary." Lewis looked up, his eyes registering mild surprise as if he'd forgotten what day it was. Then his face transformed into that practiced smile I'd come to recognize—the one that never quite reached his eyes. "Natasha!

[Warning : Mature content, this book contains explicit scenes, violence, strong language, and dark adult themes. Reader discretion is advised.] “I don’t kill women, but you’re testing how far I can bend that rule.” Bianca Williams only wanted one night to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday with drinks, laughter, and a little freedom. But the night turns dark when she stumbles into an alley and witnesses a brutal murder. She tells herself it was just the alcohol, a bad dream she’ll forget by morning. Until she wakes up to find three men standing in her bedroom, and one of them is the killer from last night. Vicenzo Vitale. The cold, enigmatic Italian Mafia don with a body carved from sin. He tells her she wasn’t supposed to see what happened, and if she doesn’t come with him, he’ll frame her for the murder… and kill her sister. Enzo claims he needs her to take care of his brother Miguel, but that’s only the story he tells. The truth is far more dangerous, Bianca is the long-lost daughter of the Russian mafia king, a secret that could burn everything Enzo has built and ignite a war that’s been waiting to start. Now, trapped in a world of lies and blood, Bianca must navigate a dangerous game where every word is a weapon and every touch feels like a sin. Because Enzo Vitale didn’t keep her to protect her, he kept her to use her. And somewhere between hate and obsession… he lost control.

“You think I wanted you?” Sebastian’s voice was cold, his blind eyes fixed on her trembling form. “You bought me,” Anastasia whispered, her heart cracking. “You married me only to punish me.” His lips curved into a cruel smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re nothing but a substitute, a stand-in for the woman I truly love.” Her hand shook as she clutched the ring he forced onto her finger. “Then why bind me to you at all?” “Because I’d rather rot in hell with a stranger than beg for scraps from the woman who betrayed me.” ****** Anastasia never dreamed her life would end up like this. Married to Sebastian, the ruthless billionaire heir whose world was ripped apart the night an accident left him blind and abandoned by his fiancée. To save her sick mother, Anastasia agreed to his cruel bargain: be his substitute wife, his shield in public, and his prisoner in private. But Sebastian is not a man who forgives and he never forgets. Every touch he denies and every word he spits is a reminder of the vow he made to destroy the woman bound to him. When the torment becomes unbearable, Anastasia makes the most painful choice of all. She divorces him and vanishes without a trace. What Sebastian never discovers is the truth she carries with her. His children. Not one, but four lives growing inside her. The quadruplets who become her greatest secret and her greatest strength. Years later, when fate forces their paths to cross again, Anastasia is no longer the weak woman he once broke. Winning her back will take more than apologies, more than confessions, and more than promises he failed to keep. But can a broken marriage and a hidden family survive the fire of betrayal? Or will the truth destroy them once more when Sebastian discovers that the children he never knew are his own?

Five days after my C-section, my husband Jason was summoned away again—this time by a call from his childhood friend, Angela. I stared at his message—*You handle the baby first, thanks for all your hard work*—and a wave of nausea heaved inside me. Later, when I saw the large, angry burn on our daughter Michelle’s calf from scalding water, he called it an “accidental slip.” But on his unlocked phone, I found Angela’s text: *Let the baby get a little burn. Then she won’t have the energy to bother you.* Beneath it, his immediate reply: *Okay.* So that was it. The child I’d risked my life to bring into the world was, in his eyes, nothing more than a tool to teach me a lesson. *** Alone in bed, I listened to our five-day-old daughter wail herself hoarse in her crib. The last of the anesthesia was wearing off, leaving my incision throbbing as if a thousand ants were gnawing at it. A cold sweat broke over my skin. Every movement threatened to tear my stitches, leaving me helpless—unable to get up, unable to hold her. My phone still glowed, open to my chat with Jason. My last message read: *Michelle won't stop crying. When are you coming home?* His reply: *Angela's place lost power. She's scared alone. I'm heading over to check. You soothe the baby first, thanks for all your hard work, honey.* Followed by a kissing emoji. That little icon made me sick. How laughable. The man who once vowed, “Just focus on giving birth, honey, I’ll handle the baby,” was now at another woman’s apartment, fixing appliances that never stayed fixed, right when I needed him most. And our daughter and I? We’d been reduced to a casual *thanks for all your hard work.* Despair and pain washed over me together. Finally, a sob tore from my throat, and the tears came—hot, helpless, unstoppable. I hated him. I hated that I’d been so blind, marrying this selfish, spineless man. But I hated myself more. Why did it take until now to finally see clearly? Before the wedding, Jason had doted on my every whim. He was the ambitious small-town boy who’d made it in the city. I was the only daughter of a well-off urban family. My parents gifted us a fully paid-off apartment, a decent car, and a substantial trust fund in my name. Everyone said I was marrying beneath me, but I was blinded by his drive and his endless consideration. He remembered all my likes and dislikes, made me ginger tea for my cramps, and picked me up no matter how late I worked. His most frequent promise: “Debra, you are my whole world. I’ll never let you suffer a single grievance in this lifetime.” I believed him. Then I got pregnant. He began using work as an excuse to come home less and less. Then came the delivery. As I lay writhing in the labor room, he got a call from Angela. Hesitating, he turned to me. “Debra, Angela... she just went through a bad breakup. She’s really unstable. I’m worried she might hurt herself...” If my mother hadn’t slapped him right then, he might have actually left me—in the throes of childbirth—to go comfort his “poor, helpless little sister.” After Michelle was born, I thought he’d finally pull himself together. I was wrong. The first day postpartum: Angela’s light bulb was out. Jason went. The second day: her sink was clogged. Jason went again. The third day, the fourth day... the excuses never stopped. Fixing her computer, helping her carry packages, even just accompanying her to take out the trash. I went from quietly enduring, to questioning him, to the numb resignation I felt now. Jason always had his reasons. “Debra, don’t overthink it. What we have is just a sibling bond. She’s struggling alone in the big city. What’s wrong with me helping her out? You never used to be this petty.” Petty?