Explore All Web Novel Categories

"Sign these papers, Adam!" I yell, flinging the divorce papers across his table. But he does nothing, he just gives me that smirk, like the arrogant bastard he is. "You're gorgeous when you fight, Hermione. But you'll never stop being my wife." ~~~ He married her for revenge. He wanted to destroy her family. But Adam Hilton didn't plan to stupidly fall in love with Hermione, the woman he swore to use and ruin. To remove her from the cruel plan he made against her dad and family, he serves her divorce papers while she's still in prison. When she's finally released, Hermione finds Adam in bed with another woman. Broken, she signs the papers and disappears. But Adam finds out the truth-she isn't the real daughter of the family he wanted to destroy. Now, Adam is drowning in guilt. For eight months he searches for her. When he finally finds her, Hermione swears never to forgive him, but Adam swore to never let her go. PS: He has reckless ways of begging. As wild and consuming as his love for her.

I smoothed down the front of my dress for the fifth time, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of marriage to a man who still felt like a stranger in our bed. The dining room glowed with candlelight, casting shadows across the intimate table I'd spent hours preparing. Jasper's favorite wine breathed in crystal glasses, and the beef Wellington sat perfectly golden on fine china—his favorite, not mine. Nothing about this marriage had been about what I wanted. "Mrs. Spencer?" Our housekeeper appeared in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. "The dinner will get cold." "He'll be here," I said, more to convince myself than her. "He promised." At eight-thirty, the front door finally opened.

My husband’s friends had organized a camping trip. As night fell and everyone was thinking about settling down, someone suggested we make things more interesting. A game of drawing lots would decide who would share a tent for the night. I didn’t want to join in, but Gregory’s close friend Lena drew the number for our tent. She looked at us with a pleading expression, and Gregory quickly let go of my hand. “Are you really going to make her feel awkward now?” “Eleanora, could you stop being so uptight for once?” They climbed into the tent in front of everyone. Through the gap, I saw Gregory’s restless hand. When it was my turn to draw, Gregory laughed, saying I was too stuck in my ways to join the game. Just then, Keith Walker, the tech mogul, approached me and offered his hand. “Want to share a tent with me?” Everyone said Keith wasn’t interested in women, yet under everyone’s watchful eyes, I walked into a tent with him, leaving Gregory outside, repeatedly calling my phone.

In the second year after I was discharged from the psychiatric hospital, I attended a charity gala where I unexpectedly encountered Felix Duncan, my childhood friend. Having just assumed control of the Duncan Group, Felix made a significant gesture by donating ten million dollars. Then, in front of all the media, he dropped to one knee and proposed to me. "On graduation day, you wore a veil and said you'd be my bride. I'm here to fulfill that promise, Nora. Will you marry me?" Cameras flashed wildly as the crowd awaited my response, naturally expecting me to accept. After all, I had pursued Felix for a decade. But what no one knew was this: On my birthday five years ago, his assistant, Kyla Gardner, in a fit of anger, recklessly drove and hit a janitor, killing them instantly. Felix knew the truth but manipulated the situation, framing me as the culprit. He even bribed my defense attorney to present a forged psychological evaluation, claiming I was insane.

Justice was dragged back from the slums by her biological father, only to be sold off to the billionaire Aguirre family. Her purpose was simple: marry their comatose heir to secure a three-hundred-million-dollar lifeline for his company. Her stepmother and stepsister sneered at her cheap canvas shoes, treating her like a contagious disease. "A high school dropout from the slums marrying a billionaire? It's a miracle your trashy bloodline is getting anywhere near the estate," her stepsister Emery mocked. At the sprawling estate, the "comatose" heir, Auguste, was secretly conscious. Disgusted by his new bride, he orchestrated her enrollment at an elite prep school, hoping the ruthless rich kids would break her. On her very first day, Emery ambushed her, loudly broadcasting Justice's "dropout" status to the entire classroom and turning her into an instant social pariah. The teachers tried to humiliate her with impossible calculus, and the students treated her like garbage. They all thought she was just a pathetic, uneducated pawn they could easily crush and discard. They had no idea that her "dropout" file was a manufactured ghost, or that the Aguirre family's top intelligence network had just hit a military-grade firewall trying to look into her past. Justice didn't panic. She flawlessly solved the university-level equation on the board, then walked into the cafeteria and looked right at Emery. "She has no Barnes blood. She is a squatter living in my father's house." With three casual sentences, Justice completely incinerated her stepsister's elite life. The billionaire heir wanted to play games? She was about to show them all what a real monster looked like.

The ice in my water glass had melted three times. Each time, the waiter replaced it with a silent, practiced sympathy that stung worse than the neglect itself. Le Bernardin was a cathedral of hushed conversations and clinking silver, a stage where I had performed the role of the perfect wife for fifteen years. Tonight, however, I was the sole audience member for a play that had been cancelled hours ago. Five hours, to be exact. I touched the hollow of my collarbone, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged ridge of the scar hidden beneath my pearls. It was a nervous tic, a physical memory of the bullet I took for Samuel Harrison back when his suits were polyester and his ambition was a desperate, hungry thing. Now, he was a Senior Partner, and I was the woman checking her Patek Philippe watch while the maître d' pretended not to notice the empty chair opposite me. My phone buzzed against the white tablecloth. The screen lit up with a single, brutal line of text.

The rooftop smelled like white peonies and rain that hadn't fallen yet. I got there forty minutes early. I'd told the florist twice where the candles should go, and she'd nodded the patient nod people give brides. I wasn't a bride yet. Three years to the day, and I was about to fix that. The dress was custom. Silk so quiet it didn't even rustle. I'd had the seamstress tuck the velvet box into a hidden pocket at my hip so Caiden wouldn't see it until I wanted him to. Manhattan blinked behind me, all those gold windows like applause waiting to happen. My heels sank a little into the soft grout between the tiles.

I saw everything. My husband, his pants down to his ankles, my best friend's legs wrapped around his waist. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I went back to my table, drank until my heartbreak went numb, and made a decision. I wanted out. What I didn't want was Donovan Buford-my ex's friend, his most feared rival, the lawyer who never loses-showing up every single time my life fell apart. He caught me when I stumbled drunk. He broke down a door when Gary cornered me. He handed me a job when I had nowhere to go. I told myself he was just being decent. Then I found out that the divorce I thought I'd fought for alone? He'd been orchestrating it for years. So what exactly does Donovan Buford want from me?

My husband brought a woman home and introduced her as a "Breeder." He swore it was strictly for the pack's survival, claiming my body was too weak to carry an Alpha heir. I believed him. I swallowed my pride and accepted the humiliation because we were Fated Mates. But at the Spring Banquet, the lie crumbled. Bennett didn't just parade her around; in front of the entire pack, he sank his teeth into her neck, publicly marking her and severing our soul bond. The metaphysical backlash hit me like a physical blow. In the ensuing chaos, a massive champagne tower collapsed, slicing my skin to ribbons. While I stood there bleeding, Bennett didn't even glance at me. He tackled her to the ground to protect her from a harmless splash of water, roaring about his "precious heir." "Get her out of my sight," he snarled at me, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "She is no longer my mate." He thought I would break. He thought I would stay in the corner, a dutiful, barren Luna waiting for him to finish playing house. He was wrong. I walked into his office, shredded the documents that gave him access to my family's fortune, and booked a one-way ticket to Paris. When he finally realizes that the "Breeder" is nothing but a fraud and tries to use the Alpha Command to drag me back, he's going to find nothing but an empty room. The Luna he rejected is dead. And the woman who replaced her is never coming back.

WARNING ⚠️: This book contains sex scenes and mature contents not fit for readers below 18+. If you love steamy romances and emotional stories, this book is the one. By day, Damon follows her rules in the kitchen: chopping, kneading, burning his fingers, and surviving her sharp mouth. By night, she follows his. Damon Blackwell is a cold, dangerous billionaire who hates Christmas, women, and anything that smells like joy. Haunted by tragedy and trauma, and memories of the girl he once loved and lost, he lives like a machine: money, control, and pleasure without attachment. Then his grandparents and three ruthless brothers dare him to do the impossible: Live like a normal man for 12 days to Christmas: no staff, no luxuries, no protection, no control and no bad temper. He has to change and be easygoing with investors. Fail, and he loses the biggest business deal of his life. Indulgence is over for him. The only place Damon knows he can grab survival? A small-town Christmas cooking competition hosted by that one woman who broke his heart years ago. Merry Steele never expected to see Damon again. The man she left without a word. The man who haunted her dreams after she broke his heart back now stands in her kitchen offering a deal she can't refuse: Cook for him. Sleep with him. Pretend to be his fiancée until the end of the year. The pay is tempting. The temptation is even greater. Before Christmas, can they resist the heat, desire, and lingering love they once shared and keep it strictly business? As family obligations, enemies, and a high-profile Christmas ball close in, Damon and Merry must correct old heartbreak, passion, and dangerous feelings. Will Damon ever forgive his fuckmate? Can Merry resist the billionaire who once stole her heart... or will old flames burn hotter than ever under the snow, the lights, and the Christmas feelings?

The family of Williams are known to be strict, rigid and too controlling; they set barriers and closed edges between relations and an interloper. A family once filled with wealth and life of riches went bankrupt after it was discovered most of its stocks were poorly managed by top board members in the enterprise. Emily Williams, was born into this once prosperous family, her father Mr Williams Richard mentally broken since the huge financial loss had to change the family doctrines and conservative manners to accommodate an outsider, a Rich one to be precise. Her mother Elizabeth Williams and brother John Williams, work as a day labourer to make ends meet they find it hard to gratify the whole family needs for the pressure was hard on their neck. Since their father is unable to support the family's financial backbone he had only one idea that could take the family out of financial disgrace: His youngest child and only daughter, Emily Williams. She was later given out as an arranged marriage after she gave up her passion to become an entrepreneur She would now become a full house wife to a son of an affluent lineage in the society where she would face different adversaries and oppositions. She wasn't welcomed into the family of the Carter's; her mother in-law Sarah and her two daughters Hannah and Lucy saw her as proud, egoistic, narcissist, self-absorbed egomaniac, smug and insufferable. She only got the approval of her father in-law Mr Carter James and husband Eric Carter who helped her in times of difficulty and pains due to a held promise made by James Carter and her father Richard Williams. Read to find out if Emily would ignite her passion back when she figures she has been living a life full of lies and hatred.

Would risk it all for pleasure? Brandi and Gio were never meant to happen and should not have happened but....one fateful night it happened and for them, there was no turning back. His daughter's best friend to the woman in his bed., Giovanni will have a hard time accepting Brandi is no longer the little girl he knew.

I was reborn on the eve of my wedding to Kashton Wallace. In my previous life, I fell for him the moment I saw him and agreed to the family-arranged marriage. Yet, he left me a widow for five years, drunkenly uttering my stepsister's name each night. My stepsister later married into the Quincy family and tragically passed away within a year. On the day of her funeral, his mistress pushed me into oncoming traffic, leading to my demise. His face twisted in grief as he lamented, "If it weren't for you, Priscilla wouldn't have had to marry someone else, wouldn't have died!" He blamed me entirely for their star-crossed love being torn apart. "You wretched woman, it's all your fault!" This time, I plan to keep my distance from him and allow those star-crossed lovers to be together. I never expected him to lose his grip at my wedding. In the study, I stared at the array of marriage alliance files, pausing on Eren Cook's. My father stood behind me, his voice tinged with surprise, "Reagan, are you sure you want to choose Eren Cook?

Eliana, once a billionaire heiress, had given up everything to become the perfect ordinary wife for Dustin, meticulously erasing her elite past for him. She cooked, cleaned, and mastered the art of espresso, pouring all her energy into their quiet life. But as she brought him his coffee, she found a bottle of bright pink nail polish and a delicate shark-bone bracelet on his desk, jarringly out of place, instantly shattering her carefully constructed world. Dustin’s cold dismissal stung, yet her corporate upbringing kept her questions silent. Then, her phone buzzed with an anonymous text: "He likes my taste," followed by a photo. It was a woman's pink-nailed hand, intimately on Dustin's thigh in his car, his Patek Philippe watch with its tell-tale scratch mocking her—a watch she had nearly ruined her health to buy him. The elaborate birthday dinner she’d spent hours preparing burned, filling the kitchen with acrid smoke as her marriage turned to ash. Slumped on the freezing floor, a chilling clarity replaced her despair. She clutched the unopened pregnancy test, once a symbol of hope, now a cruel joke. Then, from Dustin's study, came a rare, indulgent laugh. He was on speakerphone with his mistress, Jami, promising her the bracelet, and then, the poisoned blade: "Her? She can't even remember what date it is. She just sits at home all day studying broken recipes." Today was Eliana's 30th birthday, forgotten and weaponized against her. The sorrow evaporated, replaced by cold, absolute resolve. Eliana stepped out from the shadows, her hand flat against the heavy wood, and shoved the mahogany door open with a resounding thud. "Is that so? I didn't realize my recipes were so boring."

The morning coffee had gone cold on my desk, forgotten amid the stack of case files that demanded my attention. Three years of running Thompson Breakup Consulting had taught me to expect the unexpected, but nothing could have prepared me for what walked through my office door at precisely 10:47 AM. She swept in like she owned the place—designer heels clicking against the polished floor, a Hermès bag swinging from her manicured fingers, and jewelry that caught the light with every calculated movement. Everything about her screamed money, from the silk blouse that probably cost more than most people's rent to the way she surveyed my office with the cool assessment of someone used to getting exactly what she wanted. "Ms. Thompson?" Her voice carried the kind of confidence that came from never hearing the word 'no.' "I need your services. Immediately." I gestured to the chair across from my desk, my professional smile sliding into place despite something unsettling about her presence. "Of course. Please, have a seat and tell me how I can help." She settled into the chair with fluid grace, crossing her legs and fixing me with a stare that felt more like a challenge than a consultation. "I need you to help a wife initiate divorce proceedings.

It was almost twelve when I carefully took out an elegant Hermès container and walked out my car—I brought Ambrose his favorite lunch, truffle risotto with wild mushrooms, the way his grandmother used to make it, paired with that rare Bordeaux he'd been saving. Yes. I was about to show up and surprise him. The Sterling Group headquarters towered over Manhattan like a glass monument to old money and new power. I'd been here countless times for galas and board meetings, but never like this—never as the devoted wife bringing lunch to her hardworking husband. The marble lobby echoed with the click of my Louboutin heels as I swept past the security desk, my Chanel coat billowing behind me. "Mrs. Sterling," the receptionist beamed, "Mr. Sterling isn't expecting you, is he?" "It's a surprise," I said, my smile radiant with anticipation. "Don't announce me." The elevator climbed fifty floors in silence, my reflection multiplied in the polished steel walls. I looked perfect—every hair in place, makeup flawless, the picture of Manhattan elegance. Good. The executive floor stretched before me in hushed luxury, all mahogany and Persian rugs. Ambrose's corner office sat at the end, its double doors slightly ajar. I could hear voices inside—his deep baritone that always attracted. Yet I also heard something strange, and I reckoned that voice.

In Two Mistresses, One Husband, betrayal erupts in glittering Manhattan ballrooms and behind the glass walls of penthouses. Follow Elena Sterling as she uncovers her husband Daniel’s web of lies, confronts his ruthless mistress Sophie, and battles his cold, calculating mother—all while protecting the unborn child that could unravel the Sterling dynasty. The first chapters pull you into a world of wealth, deceit, and shattered illusions, where loyalty is an illusion and survival demands strength.

"Touch me again, Daniel, and I'll break your jaw."Jane Riley spent eight years trying to forget the man who broke her heart. Daniel Logan was her first love, her only love-until he chose ambition over her and walked away without a single goodbye. She rebuilt herself from the pieces he left behind. A nonprofit for underprivileged children. A life of purpose. A heart locked tight where he could never reach it again. Then he walked back into her world. Older. Richer. More dangerous than she remembered. And offering to save the organization she poured her soul into-the one thing standing between her and complete ruin. Jane wants to hate him. She should hate him. But every time he steps closer, every time his voice drops low and his eyes darken with something she can't name, the walls she built start to crack. He says he's here to protect her. But secrets surround him. Her father's near-fatal accident. The threats appearing from nowhere. Daniel is hiding something that could shatter her all over again. Now she has to decide-can she survive trusting him again?

"Ahhhh," I moaned into the pillow, not wanting the neighbors to hear as they would immediately tell Mom about it. "Ahhhh," this time it came out louder as I felt a shockwave of ectasy and satisification go through my body. This was the best feeling ever. Suddenly, a gentle night breeze blew through my open window, My curtains fluttered open, and I looked up to find myself face to face with those breathtaking green eyes, they were like two emeralds glittering from his dark room, it was like they could see right through my soul, Aamon Blackwood!!! My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met across the distance. I felt a wave of panic wash over me. Had he seen everything? I tried to sit up, to cover myself, but it was too late. My bully, step brother had just seen me pleasuring myself! Gosh! * * * Haven is a simple wolf human hybrid girl living her simple life, she likes to publish erotic novel online under a hidden name. She secretly has been crushing on the ice hockey captain Ryder since they were in highschool but she has never gathered the guys to tell him. One day, her annoying stepbrother, Aamon discovers her secret and blackmails her into becoming his "servant". Will they keep their relationship strictly just slave and master? Or will they break all boundaries and fall into temptation?

"Take off your panties, princess. I want to see the pussy that's been soaking the sheets and moaning my name in her sleep every night, while wearing my son's ring." "Yes, daddy." * Reina thought marriage meant love. But for two long, aching years, all it gave her was cold nights and a husband who never touched her. She was starving. And Domenico Gravano-her devil father-in-law-was the only man who ever made her feel full. He's twice her age. Deadly. Filthy rich, and built like a god. The kind of man who doesn't ask. He takes. And when he sees the way she shivers under his stare, he doesn't hesitate. He gives her everything she's always wanted. It's forbidden. It's filthy. And it's about to become her obsession. But Domenico doesn't do soft. He doesn't do love. He does control. He does power. He does ownership. And Reina? She's about to find out what happens when a Gravano decides to make you moan... and never stop. He's her father-in-law. He's her first real pleasure. He's the man who will destroy them both... just to keep her.

Her marriage is sexless, cold, and full of humiliation. She stays in the suck marriage to collect her billionaire husband's money for build her own business, and plan her freedom. While he rides his mistress in their bed many times, she quietly turns his wealth into her weapon. Years later, the wife everyone mocked becomes the world's first female trillionaire. When her bankrupt ex-husband kneels before her, willing to lick her dirt just to have her back, she smiles from her bathtub filled with money and says, "Ex-husband, I'm going to marry the second richest man in the world."

As the New Year's dinner concluded and we prepared to leave, Miranda Wells, the manager, blocked my path and forced me to pay the bill. I firmly refused, but Miranda was tough. "I am doing you a favor by asking you to pay the bill! Who in this country would dare to defy anyone from the Harris family? Do you have a death wish?" She sneered, rolling up her sleeves and pointing at me before I spoke. "Do you know who I am? Nikolas Harris, the CEO of the Harris Group, is my husband! I am Mrs. Harris!" I was stunned. I was married to Nikolas, so why was Miranda claiming to be his wife? In the next moment, I called Nikolas at the spot. "Why am I unaware that you have another wife?"

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

Valentina Avery, the infamous Stripper Of Darknight Bar had nothing to lose in her life. Except for her part-time job and daytime studies, the world no longer mattered to her after losing her family and dignity in one night. Mystery falls into her life when she meets the mysterious, famous Ceo, Lorenzo King. Between the lines and barriers of their mysterious contract, Lorenzo became an unrestrained part of her life but a love of strippers and famous Ceo were never welcomed by society.