His Sweet Betrayal, Her Cold Vengeance

Clifton, the god of esports, was secretly battling a career-ending wrist injury to protect his team. A year ago, he kissed his duo partner, Justice, only to be met with violent disgust. Justice shoved him away and dry-heaved in the rain, looking at him like a monster. Humiliated by the straight man's raw revulsion, Clifton cut him out of his life. But now, Justice suddenly appeared at Clifton's club as a rookie tryout. Instead of an ambitious climber, Justice played the perfect, pathetic victim. He cowered, trembled, and acted terrified whenever Clifton was near. He even signed a bloodsucking contract with a toxic teammate, sparking rumors he was brought in to replace Clifton as captain. During a scrimmage, Clifton hesitated to shoot because he remembered Justice had just severely burned his hand. Justice showed no mercy. He ruthlessly gunned Clifton down, humiliating the captain in front of the entire coaching staff. Clifton was consumed by blinding rage and betrayal. If Justice was so disgusted by him, why did he fake his devotion for six months just to use him? Why was he acting like helpless prey now, after trampling all over Clifton's pride? Determined to rip off the liar's disguise, Clifton dragged Justice into a live stream in front of sixty thousand viewers. "He's asking if you are in love with me." Clifton smiled cruelly, waiting for the public execution. But just as the trap snapped shut, a choked, terrified gasp came through the headset.

Two minutes before midnight on the eve of my wedding, my phone buzzed. I expected a sweet text from my groom, Liam. Instead, I received a photo of him with his lips inches from another woman's neck. The caption read: "He's celebrating his last night of freedom. Are you sure you want to be the jailer?" I didn't scream. I didn't cancel the wedding. I walked down the aisle the next morning and looked at his handsome face. I saw the scratch on his wrist—a souvenir from his mistress, Ava. Later, I overheard him tell his best man that I was just the "safe bet," a boring broodmare to provide an heir while he had fun with her. He thought I was a naive girl who believed in fairy tales. He thought he had secured his perfect life when I said, "I do." But he was wrong. When I discovered I was pregnant a few days later, I didn't celebrate. I realized this baby wasn't a blessing; it was a lock on my cage. Liam wanted a dynasty? He wanted a legacy? I looked at the positive test in my hand and made a cold, hard choice. I wasn't going to just leave him. I was going to destroy him. I wiped my tears, packed my documents, and prepared to burn his entire world to ash. The war had just begun.

I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash. Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive. Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes. "The Ruiz family sends their regards." Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated. My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends. The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood. Until her last breath, she didn't understand. Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her? Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference. I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel. Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust. Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in. Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.

When Alma's father stood in front of the bulldozers to protest, the energy company's thugs beat him half to death in the mud. Instead of arresting the attackers, the police handcuffed her bleeding father and threw him into a cruiser. "Stay back, kid," the officer barked, shoving Alma away. Her father was denied bail and framed for assaulting an officer. The corrupt mayor just smiled and told her not to cause a scene. Meanwhile, the company mailed her weeping mother a severance check that barely covered a month of groceries. Alma was forced to watch her family be completely destroyed by men with money and power. Kneeling in the cold dirt where her father's blood had spilled, she didn't shed a single tear. The panic in her chest died, replaced by a cold, absolute hatred. She realized that crying wouldn't do anything. In this world, justice didn't exist for the weak. Years later, Alma stepped onto a prestigious Ivy League campus, her cheap backpack slung over her shoulder. She was surrounded by the arrogant children of the very executives who ruined her life. She lowered her head, hiding her dead eyes, and put on the perfect mask of a timid, helpless charity case. Undergrad was just a training ground, and these elite kids were just her practice dummies. The hunt was officially on.

In a world of shifting power, Luna stands as a beacon of defiance against the reckless ambition of an arrogant Alpha. As his poor choices threaten to tear their pack apart, Luna must harness her inner strength and strategic mind to prevent total annihilation. This fantasy epic follows her journey through brutal combat and political intrigue as she challenges a legacy of folly to secure a future where her people can finally thrive in peace.

My father was dying in the ICU, and our family company, the Martin Group, was on the verge of total collapse. While I was desperately trying to sign the consent form for his life-saving surgery, my fiancé, Eston, sent me a text. "I told you not to be stubborn. The company is mine by Friday. Beg me, and I might pay for the funeral." He had been secretly looting my family's assets from the inside, waiting for me to break so he could steal everything. He thought I would crawl back to him in absolute despair, surrendering my father's legacy just to survive. The sheer weight of my helplessness crushed my chest as the heart monitor next to my father's bed let out a frantic, high-pitched scream. The betrayal tore through me, but the despair quickly hardened into a cold, sharp stone. Why should I let the man who ruined me dance on my family's grave? Why should I let him walk away with everything while I lost the only family I had left? I wiped away my tears and blocked his number permanently. Then, I stepped out into the freezing Manhattan rain and went straight to the top floor of the Maxwell building. I threw my remaining shares onto the desk of Ellwood Maxwell—the apex predator of Wall Street, and Eston's untouchable, ruthless uncle. "I want you to marry me," Ellwood said, pushing a marriage contract toward me. "That is the only way your company survives." I picked up the pen. If Eston wanted to destroy my life, I would become his aunt and make him bow.