Cheater Exposed
On the company outing bus, a video message from my rival unexpectedly blared through the speakers. Dakari, our no-nonsense boss, snapped, "Turn around. I'm a boxing champ."
Santiago from the legal team chimed in, "Prenups are my specialty."
Alondra, our financial guru, eagerly added, "No one can beat me in a financial duel."
Kamryn from PR took out her streaming gear, "Sweethearts, we'll trash their reputation right here."
Even Noa, our receptionist, was eager, "Sis, bring me along! I'm the hype master. The moment they speak, I'll drown them out!"
---
At the end of the year, our company planned a team-building retreat. As the event planner, I got up early to organize everything. Just as I was about to leave, Alan Carlson, smelling of alcohol, stumbled into me as I opened the door. "Hon, where are you off to with that luggage?" he mumbled, confused. I replied sharply, "I've told you a dozen times, my company retreat is happening now!"
Upon hearing this, Alan's expression softened. "Oh, that small-time company of yours...
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Chapter 4
As I pressed the button to close the elevator doors, Fletcher squeezed in at the last second, bringing a few others with him. He caught my frosty gaze and seemed a bit uncomfortable.
"Come on, what's with the attitude? I had to organize everything down to the last detail," he said with an awkward chuckle.
I kept my eyes on the elevator buttons, ignoring him. Our colleagues, those chosen for this 'mission,' looked excited and eager.
The elevator ascended slowly, the silence almost tangible.
Trying to break the tension, Fletcher fiddled with his nose and pulled something out of his pocket. "Carly, maybe you should tie your hair back."
I glanced over, curious. In his palm was a floral hair tie.
Seeing my interest, Fletcher animatedly explained, "You know, we might get into some scrapes up there. Long hair can be an easy target. I've seen videos where it becomes a problem."
That actually made some sense. I took the hair tie and secured my hair into a bun.
Suddenly, it dawned on me. "Hold on, how did my hair tie end up in your pocket?"
Caught off guard, Fletcher stammered, a suspicious blush creeping onto his cheeks.
"I, uh, well, you see..."
Our colleagues, sensing a whiff of gossip, turned their curious eyes toward Fletcher.
"Ding—"
The elevator doors opened right then.
We had arrived at the 32nd floor.
Fletcher seized the moment, gesturing grandly, his voice filled with a sense of purpose: "Alright, everyone, enough with the distractions. For Carly's sake, let's move!"
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8.5
The encrypted message arrived on the eve of my father's fifth death anniversary. I was sitting alone in my private study, a glass of untouched wine beside me, when my secure tablet chimed with an incoming transmission. My heart stuttered—that particular tone belonged to my father's old military communication network, a channel I thought had been shut down years ago. My fingers trembled as I entered the authentication codes. The message was brief, containing only a single photograph and a few lines of text. The image showed classified documents with my father's distinctive handwriting in the margins—the same documents that had "proven" his treason. But something was wrong. The attached handwriting analysis clearly showed the forgery. "General Nelson's genuine signature exhibits a characteristic pressure variation that these documents lack. The forgery is sophisticated but detectable under spectral analysis."
The message was signed simply: "A friend who knew the truth."
I pressed my palm against my mouth, stifling a gasp.
7.5
My husband left me to die in a fire, choosing to save his mistress while I lost our baby in the flames.
But my suffering had only just begun. He and his lover then tried to poison me, swapping my life-saving medication for tranquilizers.
When that didn't work, he orchestrated a car crash that shattered my legs, leaving me crippled and helpless.
His final act of cruelty was on his yacht. He watched as his mistress framed me, then locked me in a room with a group of thugs who left me for dead.
I threw myself into the ocean that night, choosing the cold, dark water over the monsters on that boat.
I survived. I rebuilt my life, found a man who cherished my broken pieces, and was about to get married.
Then, August crashed my engagement party. He told me he'd destroyed his mistress and was giving me his entire fortune. He thought he could buy his way back into my life.
He was about to learn that some things can't be fixed with money.
9.2
Greg Hartman is a brilliant but notorious novelist, known as much for his bestselling books as for the scandals that seem to follow him. Chaotic, charming, and unapologetically reckless, he thrives on breaking rules - both on the page and off it.
Debbie Lawson is the opposite: a meticulous, no-nonsense editor who values professionalism above all else. She doesn't bend the rules, doesn't entertain drama, and certainly doesn't mix business with pleasure - especially not with a client like Greg.
Assigned to oversee Greg's next novel, Debbie expects long nights of tense revisions, endless debates over plot points, and navigating his notorious temper. What she doesn't expect is the slow-burning, undeniable chemistry that simmers between them, turning each critique, glance, and accidental touch into a dangerous spark.
8.5
I crossed the Silverclaw territory line just after midnight, my wolf form still humming with battle energy. Five years. Five years of blood and dirt and Rogue teeth snapping at my throat, all so Livia and the pack could sleep safe. My fur was matted with scars now, silver-tipped black coat dulled by war, but my Alpha blood burned hotter than ever. I'd led the final charge that broke the Rogue coalition at the eastern borders. We'd won. I shifted back to human form at the tree line, pulling on the spare clothes I'd stashed years ago. They hung loose on my frame—I'd lost weight, gained muscle in all the wrong places. The kind that came from survival, not vanity. But none of that mattered.
8.8
"Fuck...please..."
He risks a nibble, sending shockwaves to my core. My back arches off the wall with a sharp moan.
His hand slides between my legs, cupping my soaking panties.
"Look how wet you are," he whispers, "...shaking, and I haven't even fucked you yet."
He strokes my clit gently first, then harder. My toes curl, hair spilling into my sweaty face.
He's breaking me, ruining me with just his tongue and fingers. I can't speak. I can't think. I just tremble in his arms.
*********
The night I caught my fiancé cheating, something in me broke.
I cried.
I screamed.
I drove - into the rain, into nowhere, into him.
Cassian Cross.
A stranger with gray eyes, a sinful mouth, and hands that made me forget my name.
One night was all it took. One reckless mistake to burn away my heartbreak.
Until he showed up at my mom's wedding...
As my new stepbrother.
Now, Cassian won't stop.
He corners me in hallways, whispers filth at the altar, and looks at me like he still owns my body.
But there's one thing he didn't tell me-
He already belongs to someone else.
A fiancée bound to him by a contract... and a secret that could destroy us both.
He's dangerous.
He's forbidden.
He's promised to another.
And God help me, I still can't stop wanting him.
7.8
Growing up as the maid's daughter in the glittering, suffocating Collins mansion, Nora Macie has perfected the art of being invisible. Enter Asher Collins. Rich, ruthless, and infuriatingly untouchable, unfortunately for Nora, her stepbrother has always had the power to ruin her with a single word.
The moment a private video she never intended anyone to see is accidentally sent straight to Asher Collins. Except Asher doesn't expose her. He becomes curious... and dangerously invested.
He will remake her. Not just into someone noticed, but into someone unforgettable, someone who commands attention the moment she walks into a room.
Suddenly, the boys who never knew her name are watching her. Through it all, Asher remains in control... or at least he should be.
Because the closer Nora gets to becoming everything he designed, the harder it becomes for him to remember that she was never meant to be his.
*
His fingers lifted, brushing lightly along the side of her throat. "I think you've been lying to yourself," he said. "Because your body already knows what it wants."
Her breath faltered. "I swear, I'll kill you if you don't back the hell up."
And then, without giving her the chance to retreat, he closed the final inch between them. "I would much rather you kiss me."