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 3

Ayla needed air. She needed to scream.

"Excuse me," she murmured, pushing back her chair. "I need to check on the dessert."

Spencer didn't even look up from his conversation with Chloe. "Don't be long."

Ayla walked out of the dining room, keeping her head high until the double doors swung shut behind her. Then she slumped, gasping for breath. The hallway was empty. The staff was busy in the main kitchen.

She ducked into the butler's pantry, a narrow, walk-in storage room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves of silver platters and crystal glassware. It smelled of silver polish and dried lavender. It was quiet. Dark.

Ayla leaned against the cool metal shelving, pressing her forehead against the wire rack. Just breathe. Just survive tonight.

The door handle clicked.

She spun around. "Henderson, I was just-"

It wasn't Henderson.

Julian slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked with a sound that echoed like a gunshot in the small space.

"Julian," Ayla hissed. "You can't be here."

"Neither can you," he said. He moved forward, crowding her. The pantry was tiny. There was nowhere to go. Her back hit the shelves, the crystal glasses rattling ominously.

"If Spencer sees you-"

"Spencer is too busy staring down his mistress's dress to notice I'm gone," Julian said. His voice was hard, angry.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and sharp. Ayla's disposable scalpel, glinting in the sliver of light from under the door.

He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. "You forgot this."

Ayla reached for it. "Give it to me."

He pulled his hand back, lifting it high above his head. He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him through his tuxedo.

"Why do you stay?" he demanded. "Was this meant to be a message? A surgeon's warning? I watched them tonight. They treat you like a dog. Worse."

"It's complicated," she whispered, staring at his tie knot because she couldn't look him in the eye.

"It's money," he corrected. "It's always money. How much is he paying you to take that abuse?"

"It's for my mother," she snapped, tears pricking her eyes. "He pays her medical bills. She has cancer. Without his specialists, she dies. Is that simple enough for you?"

Julian went still. The anger in his eyes shifted, replaced by something darker, something unreadable.

"So you sold yourself," he said softly. "To save her."

"I did what I had to do."

"And last night?" he asked. He lowered his hand, but he didn't give her the scalpel. He placed his palm flat against the shelf next to her head, boxing her in. "Was that part of the sale?"

"No," she breathed. "Last night was... a mistake."

"Liar." He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She shivered violently. "Last night was the only honest thing you've done in years."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. The heavy tread of the butler. Voices.

Ayla froze. Julian didn't move. He just watched her, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness.

"Mr. Sterling?" Henderson's voice called out from the other side of the door.

Ayla held her breath, her heart hammering so hard she thought it would crack her ribs. If they were found...

Julian waited a beat. Then another. Torturing her.

Then, he leaned back slightly. "I'm in here," he called out, his voice calm. "Looking for the restroom. Took a wrong turn."

"Ah," Henderson said. "The restroom is down the hall to the left, sir."

"Thank you."

The footsteps faded.

Ayla's knees gave out. She sagged against the shelf. Julian caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her up. His grip was iron.

"You enjoy this," she accused, pushing at his chest. "You enjoy terrifying me."

"I enjoy making you feel something other than misery," he countered. He grabbed her hand and slapped the scalpel into her palm. His fingers lingered, squeezing hers.

"Get out," she whispered.

"I'm leaving," he said. "But this isn't over, Ayla. I don't like sharing my things."

"I'm not a thing. And I'm certainly not yours."

He smirked. "We'll see."

He unlocked the door and slipped out.

Ayla waited five minutes, counting to three hundred, before she dared to leave. She checked her reflection in a silver platter. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips looked swollen.

She walked back into the dining room. Dessert was being served.

Spencer glared at her as she sat down. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Bathroom," she muttered.

"You missed the toast," Chloe said, licking chocolate mousse off her spoon. "Julian had to leave early. Said he had an urgent matter to attend to."

"Probably bored," Spencer said dismissively. "He's a busy man."

The dinner dragged on for another hour. By the time the last guest left, Ayla's feet were throbbing and her head was pounding.

She walked toward the stairs, desperate for sleep.

"Ayla," Spencer called out from the living room.

She stopped, hand on the railing. "Yes?"

He was pouring a brandy. Chloe was sitting on the sofa, her shoes kicked off, her legs curled under her. She looked at home.

"Sleep in the guest room tonight," Spencer said, not looking at Ayla. "Chloe had too much to drink. She can't drive back to the city."

The air left the room.

"You want me to sleep in the guest room," Ayla said slowly, "so your mistress can sleep in our bed?"

Spencer turned, his face cold. "It's my bed, Ayla. My house. You just live here. Now go."

Chloe giggled.

Ayla looked at them. The hatred she felt was so pure, so sharp, it almost frightened her.

"Fine," she said.

She turned and walked up the stairs. She didn't cry. She was done crying.

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 3

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