The Groom Who Wasn't Invited

After being banished abroad on her wedding night, Cierra returns three years later only to be met with a cold divorce agreement. While high society eagerly anticipates her ruin, expecting her to crawl back to the Boyle family and desperately pester her ex-husband, Draven Trevino, she refuses to play the victim. Instead of witnessing her downfall, onlookers are shocked to find a desperate Draven begging Cierra for a second chance at marriage.

I discovered I was pregnant with twins from my marriage to Ell Steele, the ruthless CEO of the Steele Group. But he saw me as a gold-digging nobody, unworthy of his heir. He stormed into our penthouse with his lawyer, slamming down abortion consent forms and a divorce NDA, offering five million to terminate and vanish. "You're not fit to carry my child," he spat, gripping my jaw. I refused the abortion, signed the zero-payout divorce to keep my company insurance for my dying mom's ICU bills, but stayed on as an admin assistant. Brittany, his mistress, spilled coffee on my reports, got me demoted to the dusty sub-basement sorting old files. She framed me for attacking her, security dragged me out, slamming me into doorframes that cramped my belly. Trapped in a sabotaged freight elevator, I nearly miscarried in the dark, gasping for air while Ell rescued me—only to find my prenatal pills and rage. At the gala, I warned Brittany the Angel's Tears necklace—Georgina's flawed design—was cracking. She accused me of theft; Ell ordered me stripped and searched publicly. It snapped anyway, shattering the diamond, but he blamed me, firing and blacklisting me on the spot. Beaten down, humiliated, body aching from their cruelty—how could my husband, who I once loved, destroy me without a shred of doubt? What made him so blind to my pain? Dragged from our home in the rain, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up. The butler bowed: "Madame Aura, your suite awaits." As Ell watched from his Maybach, I initiated the hostile takeover—time to bankrupt them all.

Trigger Warning: This book is extremely dark, containing themes of obsession, strong sexual content, abuse, and psychological manipulation. Read at your own risk. "I'll delete the pictures depending on how obedient you are. You have to do everything I say. If I want you to become a dog, you get on your knees and bark. Do we have a deal?" Pierce leans down to Malakai's height, his lips brushing the shell of his ear, close enough to taste his fear. "You don't want her to know what a dirty little creep you are, do you?" Malakai Kreston is the preacher's perfect son. Quiet. Obedient. The kind of boy no one looks at twice. But Malakai has a filthy secret. And he'll do anything-anything-to keep it buried. Enter Pierce Masterson. Wealthy. Attractive. Pierce doesn't just want Malakai's secret. He wants Malakai. All of him. His fear. His obedience. His body. His mind. Pierce wants to own it, and lock it away where no one else can ever touch it. Kai has always been the hunter-watching from the shadows, obsessing in silence, taking what doesn't belong to him. Now someone is hunting him. And Pierce doesn't play fair. He plays dirty. How far can you run when the devil already knows every dark corner of your soul? In a game of predator and prey, the lines blur. The roles reverse. And the most dangerous thing isn't the boy who holds the blackmail- It's the moment Malakai stops wanting to be free.

For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future. Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city." Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed. The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence. Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."

A torrential downpour in Midtown ruins her gallery plans, forcing her back to the Cunningham penthouse far sooner than planned. Dripping wet and laden with bags, she steps straight from the elevator into the dim foyer, wishing she had called ahead. Instead, drawn toward the warm light spilling from beneath the door of Rhodes's private study, she is entirely unprepared for the silent, devastating betrayal waiting for her inside.

Chloe's ghost hovers over her Hollywood funeral, watching best friend Sabrina confess to the acid attack and rooftop murder that stole her life—and her fiancé, billionaire Adrian. But when Adrian storms in, he has already unraveled the entire conspiracy. He doesn't call the police; he drags Sabrina into the basement and exacts brutal vengeance. Then, broken, he returns to Chloe's casket, whispers that a world without her isn't worth living, and pulls the trigger. Chloe's soul shatters with regret—she was blind to Sabrina's venom and Adrian's profound love. Suddenly, she wakes on an operating table, strapped beneath a surgical lamp, the antiseptic sharp in her nose. She is reborn on the exact day Sabrina plans to destroy her face forever.