The Ghost Surgeon's Revenge: Rising From Ashes

I was the trophy wife of Wall Street’s golden boy, Spencer Elliott. For three years, I played the part of the perfect, silent spouse, enduring his coldness and his mother’s venom. I did it all because Spencer was the only person paying for the experimental medical care keeping my dying mother alive. But during a high-society gala, the gilded cage finally broke. I overheard Spencer laughing with his mistress about the "custom cocktail" he was feeding my mother. He wasn't paying for her cure; he was paying a doctor to systematically poison her with sedatives to keep me dependent and compliant until his forty-million-dollar inheritance vested. When I tried to confront him, the mask of the perfect husband shattered. He dragged me by my hair into our bedroom and slammed me against the wall, his eyes cold and murderous. "If you ever try to leave, your mother gets an overdose. Accidentally, of course." He told me I was nothing more than a pawn for his payout. I realized then that my entire marriage was a calculated swindle, and the man I thought was my savior was actually my mother's executioner. The betrayal was so deep it turned my blood to ice. Every sacrifice I had made and every humiliation I had swallowed was built on a monstrous lie. I felt a cold, sharp rage replacing my despair, a surgeon’s focus shifting from healing to a much more dangerous kind of excision. That’s when Julian Sterling, the most feared man in the city, stepped out of the shadows to burn my world down. He rescued me from Spencer’s violence and promised me a life of freedom, but as I finally exhaled in his arms, my secret burner phone buzzed with an encrypted message. The man who originally ruined my family was back, and the last time he was seen, he was standing right next to Julian. Is my new protector my greatest ally, or the target I've been hunting all along?

Chapters

Chapter 2

The black dress was a suffocating sheath of silk that covered Ayla from collarbone to ankle. Victoria called it elegant. Ayla called it a body bag.

She descended the grand staircase, her hand gripping the banister. The house was already buzzing with the low hum of expensive conversation. Waiters with silver trays wove through the crowd of Manhattan's elite-men in tuxedos discussing mergers, women in diamonds discussing other women.

Spencer stood near the entrance, a drink in his hand. He looked up as Ayla approached, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Better," he muttered, taking her arm. His grip was tight, possessive but devoid of warmth. "Smile, Ayla. Senator Miller is here."

Ayla forced the corners of her mouth up. "Yes, Spencer."

The doorbell chimed, a rich, melodic sound that cut through the chatter. Spencer frowned. "Who is that? Everyone should be here by now."

He moved toward the door, dragging her with him. Henderson opened it.

And Ayla's world tilted on its axis.

Chloe Jennings stood there.

She was wearing red. Not just red-a screaming, vibrant crimson that looked like a fresh wound against the muted tones of the foyer. The dress was backless, plunging, and cost more than Ayla's mother's medical bills for a year.

Spencer's hand on Ayla's arm went slack. His face softened in a way she hadn't seen in years. "Chloe," he breathed.

"Spencer," she purred, stepping inside. She didn't look at him, though. She looked straight at Ayla. Her eyes were dark and mocking. "And Ayla. So lovely to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Ayla asked, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Victoria appeared at Spencer's elbow, beaming. "I invited her, of course. Chloe is the new consultant for the family foundation. She needs to meet the donors."

"Consultant," Ayla repeated, the word tasting like bile. Everyone knew. Victoria knew. The staff knew. Ayla was the only one expected to play dumb.

Chloe stepped forward, leaning in to air-kiss Ayla's cheek. Her perfume was cloying-vanilla and ambition. "I borrowed him for three years," she whispered against Ayla's ear, her voice low enough that only Ayla could hear. "About time I collected the interest, don't you think?"

Ayla jerked back, stumbling. Her heel caught on the rug. She flailed, grabbing a pedestal table to steady herself. A crystal vase wobbled dangerously.

"Ayla!" Spencer hissed, grabbing her elbow to steady her. "For God's sake, stop making a scene."

"She-"

"Enough," he snapped. "Go check on the kitchen. Make yourself useful."

He turned his back on her, offering his arm to Chloe. Chloe took it, shooting a smirk over her shoulder as they walked into the salon.

Ayla stood there, humiliated, her face burning. The guests pretended not to see, turning their backs to sip their champagne. She was the furniture. The inconvenient wife.

"Mr. Sterling has arrived," Henderson announced, his voice carrying a note of reverence Ayla had never heard before.

The room went silent. Actually silent.

Ayla froze. No. It couldn't be.

The heavy doors opened, and Julian Sterling walked in.

If Spencer was a prince of Wall Street, Julian was the king of the underworld that fed it. He wore a tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, black on black. He didn't look like he belonged in a ballroom; he looked like he should be in a boardroom dismantling companies, or in a dark alley ending lives.

He scanned the room, his gaze predatory. He wasn't smiling.

Ayla tried to shrink behind a pillar, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Please don't see me. Please don't see me.

Spencer abandoned Chloe instantly, rushing forward with a sycophantic grin Ayla despised. "Mr. Sterling! I didn't think you'd make it."

"I had business in the area," Julian said. His voice was deep, carrying effortlessly across the room.

"We are honored," Spencer gushed. "Truly. Come, let me introduce you to the Senator."

"In a moment," Julian said. He ignored Spencer's outstretched hand. His eyes continued their sweep of the room until they locked onto Ayla.

The air in Ayla's lungs turned to glass.

He started walking. Straight toward her. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea.

Spencer blinked, confused, then scrambled to catch up. "Oh, you... you know my wife?"

Julian stopped in front of Ayla. He was so tall she had to crane her neck. Up close, he was even more devastating. The harsh lights of the chandelier caught the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes.

"We've met," Julian said.

Spencer looked between them, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "Ayla? You never mentioned meeting Mr. Sterling."

"Briefly," Ayla squeaked.

"Briefly," Julian repeated. He held out his hand. "Mrs. Elliott."

Ayla had no choice. She reached out. Her hand was trembling.

His skin was warm, rougher than Spencer's manicured palms. He engulfed her hand, his grip firm. And then, with his thumb, he deliberately traced a slow, maddening circle against her sensitive palm.

It was an intimate, claiming gesture. A reminder of where those hands had been twenty-four hours ago.

She tried to pull away, but he held on for a second too long. Just enough for her to feel the calluses. Just enough to make her knees weak.

"Dinner is served," Henderson announced, saving her.

Julian released Ayla. "After you."

They moved to the dining room. The seating chart had been arranged by Victoria, placing Julian at the head of the table as the guest of honor. Ayla was seated directly across from him. Spencer was to her right, Chloe to his right.

It was a nightmare arrangement.

The first course was served-some sort of cold soup Ayla couldn't stomach.

"So, Ayla," Chloe said loudly, her voice cutting through the clinking of silverware. "I heard your mother is back in the hospital. Must be expensive. Good thing Spencer is so generous with the family charity."

The table went quiet. It was a direct hit. A reminder that Ayla was a charity case. That she came from a trailer park in Ohio, not a penthouse in Manhattan.

Ayla gripped her spoon, staring at the soup. "She's stabilizing."

"Still," Chloe pressed, smiling sweetly. "It must be hard for you to keep up with this lifestyle. Coming from... where was it? A trailer park?"

A few guests chuckled nervously. Spencer didn't defend Ayla. He took a sip of wine, looking bored.

Ayla opened her mouth to retort, but her throat was closed up with shame.

"I find Mrs. Elliott's background refreshing," a deep voice cut in.

Julian was leaning back in his chair, swirling his wine glass. He wasn't looking at Chloe. He was looking at Ayla.

"In a room full of people pretending to be something they aren't," Julian said, his eyes flicking to Spencer, then Chloe, "it's rare to find someone... authentic."

The silence that followed was heavy. Chloe's smile faltered. Spencer shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. You didn't insult Julian Sterling. You didn't disagree with him.

"She has a resilience," Julian continued, his voice dropping, intimate and dangerous. "A certain... fire. Most people would have broken by now."

He raised his glass to Ayla. "To authenticity."

Ayla's face burned, but for the first time, it wasn't from shame. It was from the electric current arcing across the table.

Spencer cleared his throat. "Yes, well. To authenticity."

He drank. Julian drank.

And under the table, Ayla's legs were shaking.

Continue to next part

Betrayed by her mate and pack, Elena is left for dead in the frozen wilderness. Driven by a burning desire for justice, she survives the impossible, honing her strength to reclaim what was stolen. As she rises from the ashes of her old life, she must navigate a world of shifting alliances and dangerous enemies. Elena is no longer a victim; she is a force of nature ready to dismantle those who wronged her and forge a new, powerful destiny.

Action Romance Werewolf

7.0

A Mirror Too Honest

7.0

‎ ‎ ‎Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything. ‎ ‎Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on. ‎ ‎So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse. ‎ ‎Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love. ‎ ‎Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run. ‎ ‎Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built. ‎ ‎Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks. ‎Arguments disguised as discussions. ‎Discussions disguised as power struggles. ‎Power struggles disguised as creative differences. ‎ ‎But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long. ‎ ‎As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills. ‎ ‎Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness. ‎ ‎Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends. ‎And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread. ‎ ‎But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something. ‎ ‎Sophia hides her fear of losing control. ‎Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt. ‎ ‎And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves. ‎ ‎Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable. ‎ ‎Until the past they both buried finds them. ‎ ‎A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly. ‎ ‎Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true. ‎ ‎Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures. ‎Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain. ‎ ‎But desire doesn't listen to logic. ‎And hearts don't obey deadlines. ‎ ‎Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words. ‎ ‎They must choose: ‎fight for the story that could define their careers... ‎or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures. ‎ ‎And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer: ‎ ‎What does love look like today- ‎and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers? ‎ ‎On the edge of losing their partnership... ‎their second chance... ‎and each other... ‎ ‎

Action Modern Romance

9.7

Flash Marriage To The Alpha Colonel

9.7

I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing. During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me. I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst. She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side. "Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house." I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip. My heart went completely dead. So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate. I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table. "I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."

Action Modern Romance

8.9

PROFESSOR SIN

8.9

"Spread your legs and use your hands, my little dove," his voice was rough, a dark whisper that curled into my skin. My body trembled, traitorous, yet I obeyed..because I never resisted him. I couldn't. Even when his words bound me tighter than any rope, even when shame burned my cheeks, my fingers still moved at his command. I'm Amara Blake. At home, I'm nothing. The unwanted daughter. The mistake forced to live in her sister's shadow. A living Donor. A spare part to my sister. Scorned by my mother, hated by my father, reminded daily that my only worth is keeping myself "pure" for Nina's sake. But with him... purity doesn't exist. Professor Black doesn't see me as a burden. He sees me as temptation. A secret waiting to be ruined. Every time I walk into his office, I feel the weight of his gaze...hungry, dangerous, claiming. I shouldn't want him. I shouldn't crave the way his voice curls against my skin like a promise of sin. But I do. And when his hands finally touch me, I realize one truth...I'm no angel. I was made to burn. MY PROFESSOR SIN

Action Modern Mystery

7.1

Reborn Heiress: The Wolf's Vengeance Deal

7.1

I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

Action Billionaire Fantasy

7.5

The Alpha Queen: Reign of Ice

7.5

In a world where wolf clans rule kingdoms of fire, shadow, and storm, one girl is forgotten... until she rises. Betrayed by her own pack and cast out into the frozen wastelands, she survives only by forging a bond with a legendary white direwolf-an ancient spirit of vengeance. Once scorned, underestimated, and left for dead, she claws her way back from Omega to Alpha, mastering frost and fury, outsmarting rival Alphas, and commanding armies with ruthless precision. But destiny isn't done testing her. The Moon Goddess binds her to three fated mates-a brooding Fire Prince, a cunning Shadow Alpha, and a loyal Iceborn warrior-each demanding her heart, each threatening her autonomy. Will she surrender to prophecy... or claim them all? Her choice will reshape kingdoms, ignite battles, and redefine what it truly means to be a Queen. This is the story of the Alpha Queen. This is the Reign of Ice.

Action Fantasy Werewolf

The Ghost Surgeon's Revenge: Rising From Ashes

Chapter 2

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