The Prince's Mistress
To defend the stolen goods, Elena jumped off a tall building.
But it was surprisingly, he went into the other world and lost his loot stone.
Turns out there, the great thief must compete with the harem and try to recover the stone, to return to the world.
Will she be queen of the prince and find a ruby stone? Is it what Elena would choose, to defend her life now or return to her world?
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Chapter 2
"What a pitiful woman," someone said, which made Elena turn her head to see who said something that made her heart feel sad and humiliated.
"Me? Pathetic?" Elena boldly asked something that made the male guard chuckle. There was a laugh that was disgusting to Elena. He had never been humiliated like that by someone in his life, let alone just a lowly bodyguard like the man in front of him.
"Get up quickly!" the man grabbed Elena's arm roughly, ignoring the moans that escaped those thin, sensual lips.
The woman staggered almost toppled over because of how rude the male guard had treated her. Dunno what was going on, Elena was still in a daze. His body felt weak and helpless, where did all the martial arts and acrobatics he had before go.
The male guard kicked the door hard enough to make a sound enough to make people tiptoe. Then, Elena was dragged somewhere, she only found a dark alley. A few meters later, there were people in the room with the barred door.
Elena looked around every street she passed. His eyes widened, he didn't get it wrong. It seemed what he saw was a dungeon. However, something made him feel strange, why the people inside were dressed so old-fashioned.
"Slow bastard!" The male guard jerked his hand away. Elena could only obey, without being able to fight back.
'You lack root! You'll see, I'll pay you back later,' Elena thought while glaring furiously at the male guard.
They came out of the dungeon area, up the stairs which were quite steep with the size that only fit two people crammed into it. Elena could only surrender, following where the guard took her. A few moments later, they were already out of the iron door that connected the outer corridor with the dungeon.
Elena gasped, she could barely contain herself as she looked along the hallway that looked more like a palace. Corridor with buildings made of gray andesite stone. Salmon-colored curtains decorated every corridor of the palace.
"Wait! Where are we going?" Elena braced herself when her arm was already feeling hot from the grip of the haughty male guard earlier.
"You shut up!" snapped the guard who was still dragging him roughly. "Your place is in the harem as a slave!"
"Hah! Slaves! I'm not a slave!" Elena shouted while glaring in annoyance at the guard. He tried to struggle to get out of the grip of the proud male guard's hand, but somehow he still couldn't use his strength.
The two of them had entered the passageway on the inside. There were several guards who looked more like royal soldiers standing around the passage.
"Let go!" Elena started to struggle vigorously, the guard was getting overwhelmed. Elena had almost escaped the guard's grip.
"Insolent you, Slave!" The guard raised his palm up, almost landing it right on Elena's right cheek. However, the guard froze. He couldn't move his hands.
"Don't ever try to slap me!" Elena's voice coldly gripped the guard's hand which was about to slap him.
"Da-dare you!" growled the guard.
"I will do much more than this, if you continue to mistreat me." Elena's teeth were chattering with anger. He slapped the guard's hand. "You don't have to push me to walk, I can walk on my own!"
The guard gasped, only this time he met the slave's pathetic resistance. An innocent and beautiful face, it's just that Ayla is known to be weak. His fellow harems were always torturing him and trying to get rid of him and make him look like an ugly person. So that the princes never glance at her beauty.
The guard gripped Elena's arm again, but more gently than before. Inside, the guard felt strange, the look in the weak girl's eyes seemed to be different. Sharp and piercing, unlike the moment before entering the dungeon, the look in his eyes was full of fear and almost death from being beaten by one of the palace's special harems.
They had arrived at the end of the hall, greeted by two people, a middle-aged man and woman. Standing right in front of the half-oval shaped iron door. Elena's eyes stared at the two people in front of her. A man wearing a brown fur vest, while a woman covers her head like a veil, her face is sinister.
"A very lucky girl. At that time you were on the verge of death," said the woman with a cynical face. Then he grabbed Elena's wrist and led her inside.
When the door opened, Elena's gaze instantly wandered in all directions. He saw a very large room. The dominance of beige color with white and pink curtains.
There are steps like a stage on each right and left, which turns out to be useful as a bed. Seen from the pedestal that lined the head there.
"Hey, look who's coming back to this room!" A loud feminine voice caused Elena to instantly lift her head, because it was coming from above. More specifically, the second floor. A woman with shining blonde hair.
Seen some beautiful women in beautiful silk dresses, as well as colorful headdresses.
"Why is that pathetic slave still alive?" asked the other woman with dark brown hair.
Elena was silent holding back anger, she could only purse her lips and stare intently at the woman with shining blonde hair coming down the stairs. Followed by two women who look the same, beautiful, beautifully dressed with a headdress like a tiara.
"Why? Don't accept?" The woman with her rosy white face leaned right in front of Elena's. "Even though I confirmed yesterday that you died after beating you!"
"But you still see me alive, right?" Elena smiled sarcastically at the girl. "You will never succeed in killing me!"
The girl's blue irises gleamed, holding back the raging rage.
"You! Don't you dare go against me!" The woman roughly grabbed Elena's chin. "Look at the wounds on your face! Indicates how pathetic your life is!"
Elena widened her eyes in surprise, what was wrong with her face. Was it that bad the wound that cut it? Even when he first woke up, he saw many bruises and cuts on his hands.
Elena ignored the words of the woman in front of her. He just laughed out loud, attacking the enemy's mental back.
"You are crazy!" The woman brushed Elena's sharp chin roughly and looked disgusted.
"You're the one with respect!" Elena snapped, lifting her chin. As if challenging the woman in front of him.
"You insolent!" There was a loud sound of a beautiful woman's palm with blue irises pressed against Elena's left cheek, so that Elena's head tilted in the opposite direction. Pain and heat, that's how Elena felt.
Elena couldn't help the rumbling in her chest. While rubbing his cheeks that felt hot, even a thick red liquid appeared from the corners of his lips. Elena stared intently at the beautiful woman with blue irises with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce the heart.
PLAQUE!!
The sound of a slap back from Elena's palm made the woman in front of her almost fall backwards.
"Damaris, are you all right?" The noise from the room began to attract the attention of the guards outside. It turned out that the beautiful woman with blonde hair was named Damaris.
"You insolent woman!" Damaris' voice made several harems who were looking for her face come and grabbed Elena's hands. Some just watched where he was, not daring to fight the existence of Damaris who was the second prince's special harem. Damaris looked almost ready with her palms flying.
"Stop it!" The loud baritone voice broke the commotion in the room called the Harem.
All bowed, no one even dared to look up. Elena turned around, she saw the appearance of a man who was so manly, tall, even his broad chest could be seen even though he was hidden in an all-black outfit. Elena's gaze was unblinking, the man had a firm jaw with eagle-like eyes. Her thick hair made Elena seem trapped in the darkness.
"Ayla! Down!" I don't know whose voice it was, but it seems that the man in front of him is not a random man.
"Who is this disrespectful Harem!" The man's baritone voice boomed, instantly making Elena flinch and look down.
"Sorry Your Majesty, he's new." A feminine voice could be heard defending him.
"NEVER COMPETE IN THE HAREM!" His voice warned again. "OR I BURN ALL OF YOU!" After saying that, the mysterious dashing man left the room just like that.
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9.2
My world shattered twice. First, the ocean claimed my son. Then, the mountain road took another, a direct sacrifice to the man I loved and the woman he chose. In the hospital, beeps marked the emptiness where my second son used to be, echoing the first loss, both involving Holden and Giana.
During the car crash, I was pinned, bleeding, and trapped. Holden, my partner, looked me in the eyes, then chose to save Giana, abandoning me and our unborn child.
Soon, I overheard Holden praising Giana for turning our tragedy into a PR win. His hollow apologies and focus on Giana’s "miracle work" reignited the brutal memory of her push and his past denials.
A decade of sacrificing my life and two children for a man who saw me as a liability left a bitter taste. His choice was clear; only profound abandonment remained.
But this time, I was choosing me. From my profound loss, a dangerous spark ignited: I would not just survive; I would find freedom and make him pay.
7.2
He was my first love. My first everything.
Now he's my stepson.
One night changed everything. Ten years couldn't make us forget. But loving him now could destroy us all.
Ethan Cole was the boy who held my heart. My first kiss. My first time. My first real love. We planned a future together, whispered forever, believed nothing could tear us apart.
Then prom night happened.
I woke up alone in a hotel room with no memory of how I got there, and Ethan was gone. Vanished. The rumors said he got what he wanted and got tired of me. I spent a decade believing I wasn't enough.
So I moved on. I built walls. I found Harrison to be kind, stable, and safe, and I said yes when he asked me to marry him.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Because Harrison's son? The one living in the guest house? The one I'll see at family dinners and weddings, and holidays for the rest of my life?
It's Ethan.
My Ethan.
The boy who broke me. The man I never stopped loving. And when I look into his whiskey-colored eyes, I see the same hunger, the same pain, the same unanswered questions burning in me.
He says he never left me. He says prom night was a setup. He says he's loved me every single day for the past ten years.
And God help me... I believe him.
But how do I choose between the man who gave me a future and the man who still owns my past?
How do I resist the only love that ever felt like home?
And how do I survive when my heart is tearing me in two?
9.0
To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé.
She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark.
The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team.
But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
"You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks."
He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house.
Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell.
She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her.
But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage.
Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen.
He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.
8.9
Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot.
He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage.
My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind.
To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied.
"I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia.
I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me.
But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty.
Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start."
He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him.
He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name.
I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave.
Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost.
He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate.
He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness.
But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile.
"She waited for you every single day," he spat.
"And you killed her."
7.6
I pulled the perfectly baked Beef Wellington from the oven, its rich scent filling our Manhattan penthouse. For five years, I’d crafted this perfect life, but tonight, I’d discover my entire existence was a cruel, silent lie. The man I loved had built it all on betrayal.
Preparing our anniversary dinner, I reflected on five years of building a flawless home for Blake, a dream I’d never known.
Searching for a pen, I found a hidden compartment in Blake’s desk containing a cheap black USB drive—a significant secret for a man who despised anything less than perfect.
His MacBook unlocked with his birthday, not ours. The USB, after a near-data-wipe, revealed "The Archives": hundreds of photos of Blake with his college girlfriend, Isabelle, passionate love letters, and a wardrobe chosen to mirror hers. My name yielded "0 results found," while millions were wired to Isabelle.
I was a meticulously funded stand-in, a ghost he dressed up to play house. My non-existence in his world and his financial betrayal ignited a cold, burning rage.
Blake returned, dismissive, offering a delayed anniversary gift. I confronted him; he ripped the USB, snapped it, and stated, "Nothing changes, as long as you know your place." My obedience shattered: "I want a divorce," I declared, then destroyed dinner and packed my own bag.
8.9
I spent five years protecting Grafton Mcleod, the ruthless King of Chicago. Not because I loved him, but because I swore a blood oath to his dying brother to keep him alive.
On the day my contract ended, I placed my resignation on his desk.
Grafton didn't just refuse it; he laughed.
"You don't resign, Cayla. You belong to me."
He thought I was a jealous, obsessed assistant in love with him. He let his cruel fiancée, Cherrelle, torment me daily.
He forced me to drain my own blood to save her after she faked an accident.
He threw me into a freezing fountain when she lied about me pushing her.
But the final straw came when he dragged me to a syndicate gala. He didn't take me as a guest. He put me on stage, in a silk dress and a collar, and sold me to his enemy for five million dollars.
"This is what happens to property that misbehaves," he sneered as the gavel came down.
I escaped that night, but I didn't run away. I drove to the bridge where his brother died.
I left my phone on the railing and let the icy water take me, finally free of my debt.
It was only when Grafton stood on that bridge, holding my cracked phone, that he learned the truth.
He unlocked it and saw my wallpaper. It wasn't him. It was his dead brother.
And the diary inside revealed that the woman he was about to marry was the one who had ordered the hit that killed him.