Shattered Vows: The Genius Doctor's Revenge
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As the fetal monitor screamed in the delivery room, Danae begged the nurses to call her billionaire husband to save their dying baby.
Instead of Adrian, his chief lawyer arrived with a chilling directive: all emergency interventions were explicitly denied.
While security guards pinned her arms to the mattress, Danae was forced to listen to her baby's heartbeat flatline. The lawyer simply dropped divorce papers on her bed and walked out. A sympathetic doctor helped Danae fake her own death to escape the family. Stripped of her assets and kicked out into the freezing rain, she tried to drown herself with her child's ashes, only to be saved by a mysterious benefactor.
Three years later, Danae returned as a top medical researcher. But at a high-profile symposium, she crossed paths with Adrian and his new fiancée—a cheap lookalike of Danae. The woman maliciously staged a bloody miscarriage using a restricted chemical, perfectly framing Danae's lab for the crime.
Adrian pinned Danae against the wall, his eyes black with rage, vowing to make her beg for death. Three years ago, he let their real child die without even answering the phone. Now, he was ready to destroy her over a fake pregnancy.
Just as Adrian's private guards dragged her away to be locked up, the hospital doors were violently kicked open. A rival billionaire stepped in with a team of ruthless lawyers, shielding Danae behind his back and declaring war.
Shattered Vows: The Genius Doctor's Revenge Chapter 1
The fetal monitor did not just beep; it screamed.
The shrill, mechanical alarm pierced the sterile air of the Manhattan private delivery room. Danae's spine arched off the mattress. Her fingers curled into the crisp white hospital sheets, tearing at the fabric as another premature contraction ripped through her abdomen.
"Heart rate is dropping rapidly," the attending physician announced, his forehead slick with sweat.
A nurse shoved an ultrasound cart to the side of the bed. She pressed the cold transducer hard into Danae's swollen belly.
Danae bit down on her lower lip until the metallic taste of copper flooded her mouth. She grabbed the nurse's wrist.
"Call Adrian," Danae gasped, her chest heaving. "Call him right now."
The nurse pulled a cell phone from her scrubs and dialed. A heavy second passed.
"It's going straight to voicemail," the nurse whispered, her eyes darting to the floor.
The heavy double doors of the delivery room slammed open.
Adrian's chief legal counsel stepped into the room. He wore a charcoal bespoke suit, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the linoleum. He didn't bother with a sterile gown or mask.
He walked straight to the foot of Danae's bed and unrolled a thick parchment document stamped with the Rosario family crest.
"As of this moment," the lawyer stated, his voice devoid of any human inflection, "Mr. Rosario explicitly denies the authorization of any non-standard emergency interventions for the mother or the fetus."
The doctor froze. The ultrasound wand slipped from his hand. "Are you insane? If we don't intervene, the fetus will die."
The lawyer didn't flinch. "My instructions are explicit and came directly from the family." He did not say from Adrian. He said family. The distinction was lost on everyone in the chaos, drowned under the shrieking monitor and Danae's screams.
The lawyer reached into his leather briefcase. He pulled out a sealed letter from the hospital's board of directors and shoved it into the doctor's chest.
"Step back, Doctor," the lawyer ordered.
Danae's vision blurred with tears. She lunged forward, her bloodied fingers desperately reaching for the hem of the lawyer's suit jacket.
"Please," she sobbed, the sound tearing up her throat. "Save my baby. Please!"
Two massive men in black suits stepped through the doorway. They flanked the bed, their heavy hands clamping down on Danae's shoulders, forcing her violently back against the mattress.
She thrashed. She kicked. She screamed until her vocal cords shredded.
Through the chaos, the rhythmic thumping of the fetal heartbeat on the amplifier began to slow. It dragged. It faded.
And then, it flatlined.
A single, continuous, ear-splitting tone filled the room.
Danae let out a guttural, animalistic shriek. Her head fell back against the pillow, hot tears instantly soaking the cotton. The fight drained from her muscles, leaving nothing but a hollow, freezing void in her chest.
The doctor lowered his head. He looked at the clock on the wall. "Time of death, eleven-forty."
The lawyer neatly folded the document. He placed a crisp, white divorce agreement on the rolling tray next to the bed. He turned on his heel and walked out.
The bodyguards released her and followed him, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them.
The room fell into a suffocating silence, broken only by Danae's jagged, wet gasps.
The door clicked open again. Dr. Evelyn Reed slipped inside, pushing a metal medical cart covered with a white sheet.
Evelyn locked the deadbolt. She rushed to the bed and clamped her gloved hand hard over Danae's mouth.
"I am getting you out of here before his men come back to finish the job," Evelyn hissed, her eyes wide with panic. "Your father paid for my medical school, Danae. I owe him my life, and I won't let Adrian Rosario destroy yours."
Danae stared at her. The absolute devastation in her eyes hardened, crystallizing into a pure, venomous hatred for Adrian. She gave a single, stiff nod.
Evelyn turned to the computer terminal and began typing frantically.
Evelyn grabbed a thick stack of gauze and pressed it into Danae's hands. "You are hemorrhaging. Keep pressure on it."
Danae clutched her empty, aching stomach. Her fingernails dug into her own flesh, scraping white lines across her pale skin. "My baby..." she choked out, her voice broken.
"He's gone, Danae," Evelyn whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. But you have to survive."
Evelyn ripped the plastic ID bracelet off Danae's wrist and tossed it into the biohazard bin. She threw a folded pile of dark blue fabric onto the bed.
"Janitor's uniform," Evelyn said. "Put it on."
Pain radiated from Danae's pelvis with every movement. She gritted her teeth, stripping off the bloody hospital gown and pulling the coarse blue pants up her legs. She shoved her tangled hair under a faded baseball cap.
Evelyn cracked open the heavy metal door leading to the soiled linen chute at the back of the room. She peeked out, checking the blind spot of the security cameras.
"Go," Evelyn whispered.
Danae hugged her empty, bleeding abdomen tight against her ribs. She kept her head down, stepping out of the bright room and plunging into the dim, foul-smelling darkness of the maintenance corridor.
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Shattered Vows: The Genius Doctor's Revenge of Contents
New Release Novels
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
7.2
Stepping out of the women's correctional center, Karli took her first breath of freedom in three years.
But the luxury SUV waiting for her didn't bring her home. Instead, her adoptive parents tossed a prenuptial agreement onto her lap.
They demanded she marry a violently unhinged, disfigured man so their company could secure a massive commercial deal.
When she refused, her adoptive mother slapped her hard across the face.
The blow brought back the suffocating nightmare from three years ago—how they had drugged her, framed her for a crime she didn't commit, and sent her to prison just so her stepsister could steal her fiancé.
Now, to break her again, her adoptive father ordered his bodyguards to drag her into the estate's freezing, pitch-black basement.
"You can rot in the dark without food or water until you sign that paper!"
Sitting on the damp cement, bleeding and shivering, a white-hot fury burned away Karli's panic.
They had stolen her youth, her reputation, and her grandfather's inheritance. She would rather die than be their sacrificial lamb again.
She smashed the basement window with a hammer, dragged her bleeding body through the shattered glass, and sprinted blindly into the stormy night.
Under the flickering neon sign of a convenience store, she grabbed the sleeve of a terrifyingly cold stranger.
"Are you single? Marry me right now."
She just needed a legal marriage to escape her family, entirely unaware she had just proposed to the most ruthless billionaire in Chicago.
9.7
I am the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, but my Alpha mate, Ryker, has spent the last six years treating me like a placeholder while publicly pining for his ex, Faye.
When Faye's friends cornered my wolfless daughter and called her a defective embarrassment, I finally used my Luna authority to kick them out.
But instead of defending our child, Ryker stormed in and used his Alpha Command on me.
He forced me to my knees with his raw power, ordering me to apologize to the bullies who had just humiliated our daughter.
When I fought his crushing command and refused, his retaliation was swift and brutal.
He and his mother stripped me of my family's sacred heritage, the Moonpetal Grove, and gifted it to Faye as a reward.
They even tried to force a quack doctor on my daughter, telling me to just accept that she was broken.
The entire pack watched me lose everything, mocking me as the useless, rejected mate.
I had endured his coldness for years, but watching him sacrifice our daughter's safety and my family's legacy for his mistress was the final straw.
How could the Moon Goddess tie me to a man who would so easily destroy his own flesh and blood?
Instead of crying, I pulled out my mother's ancient grimoire and drafted a formal rejection of our mate bond.
And when a terrifyingly powerful, cloaked stranger suddenly appeared to save my daughter's life, carrying a familiar scent of ancient power, I knew my fate was changing.
This time, I wouldn't just walk away. I was going to burn their world to the ground.
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.
