The Surgeon Heiress's Cold-Blooded Revenge
I woke up strapped to a cold steel operating table, the blinding light of a surgical lamp burning my retinas. I was a doctor, but I wasn't the one holding the scalpel this time.
Then I heard the voice of my stepfather, Arthur Bailey—the man who had seized my family’s entire estate after my father’s death. He wasn't there to save me; he was there to sell me. "Just get the kidney on ice for Archer," he told the butcher in scrubs. "Do whatever you want with the rest of her."
This wasn't a hospital; it was a slaughterhouse in Queens. To escape, I had to dislocate my own thumb to slip the leather cuffs and use a scalpel to slice my way out of the room. Covered in blood and grime, I crashed Arthur's high-society gala at the Plaza Hotel, only to find my family pretending to mourn my "mental breakdown" while they planned my permanent disappearance into an asylum. Even as I stood before them, dripping with sewer water and rage, they tried to have me dragged away as a lunatic.
I was a top-tier trauma surgeon, yet I was being treated like a piece of meat by the people who were supposed to be my family. The betrayal tasted like copper in my mouth, a cold, slow panic turning into a simmering, absolute fury. I didn't understand how they could look at me and see nothing but a collection of spare parts.
That's when Cedric Mullen, the billionaire I’d been legally married to while he was in a coma, stepped out of the shadows to claim me. He didn't want a wife; he wanted a legal asset to unlock his inheritance. I looked into his predator's eyes and signed his contract, trading my silence for his resources. I told him, "I want Arthur Bailey destroyed. I want him to feel what it’s like to be cut open and left for dead." I wasn't a victim anymore; I was a reckoning.
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Chapter 8
The bass from the Sterling Club rattled her teeth before she even got out of the car.
She walked past the line of people waiting behind the velvet rope. She went to the alleyway around the back. There was a camera mounted above a rusty steel door.
She held up three fingers. Then two. Then a fist.
Buzz. The lock disengaged.
Jules was waiting inside. He was wearing a purple silk suit that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it looked dangerous.
"Edythe."
They didn't hug. They bumped fists.
"You look expensive," he said, eyeing the dress.
"Camouflage," she said.
He led her through the kitchen, past the vats of grease, into a soundproof office in the back.
He poured two shots of tequila.
"Arthur," he said, sliding a flash drive across the desk. "He's broke. The company is bleeding cash. That's why he needs the Mullen merger. He's been bribing FDA officials to fast-track a new drug that doesn't work. If that comes out, he goes to federal prison."
She took the drive. "This is it. This is the nail in the coffin."
"Be careful, Edythe. Arthur is a cornered rat. Rats bite."
Suddenly, the music outside stopped.
Screams.
"Someone call 911!"
Jules cursed. "Not tonight. I have the mayor's son in the VIP booth."
She was already moving. She pushed past him, out of the office, onto the balcony overlooking the dance floor.
The strobe lights were cutting through the darkness. In the center of the floor, a circle had formed.
A man was on the ground. He was clutching his chest. His face was turning blue.
"He's overdosing!" someone yelled. "Give him Narcan!"
A bouncer was trying to do CPR. He was pushing too fast, too hard.
She looked at the man's neck. The veins were distended. His chest wasn't rising on the left side.
It wasn't an overdose. It wasn't a heart attack.
It was a tension pneumothorax. A collapsed lung. Probably from a broken rib in the mosh pit.
If the bouncer kept doing CPR, the pressure would build up and crush his heart. He would be dead in two minutes.
"Stop!" she yelled, but her voice was drowned out by the panic.
She looked at Jules. "I have to go down there."
"You can't," Jules hissed. "You're Edythe Mullen now. If you get caught on camera doing something crazy, your cover is blown."
"If I don't, he dies."
She didn't wait for permission. She grabbed a napkin from a table and tied it around her face, covering her nose and mouth.
"Kill the lights," she told Jules. "Give me strobes only."
Jules signaled the DJ booth. The house lights died. The strobes went wild, turning the room into a flickering nightmare.
She vaulted over the railing. She dropped twelve feet, landing in a crouch. Her ankles protested, but the adrenaline masked the pain.
She pushed through the crowd. She shoved the bouncer away.
"Get back!" she roared.
She knelt beside the dying man.
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8.5
Our twenty-first birthday was supposed to be the night my twin and I would never forget--the night we got our witchmarks. But something goes horribly wrong, and Angelica doesn't get hers. What should've been the best night of our lives quickly turns into one of the worst.
Soon after, things start to go wrong. Our mom, who had always loved her "little moon" (me) and her "little sun" (Angelica) equally, suddenly sides with Angelica on everything. Then, my friends start to behave oddly around me. But it gets even worse. The company we started together as sisters votes to oust me? Shocked, I go to my long--term boyfriend, Orion Locklear--the boy I have loved my whole life--for comfort, only to find him and Angelica in her room...naked.
How could she do all this to me? Not only as a sister, betraying everything we once shared....but as a powerless markless? I'm the one who got the witchmark, not her! Yet I wasn't able to stop any of this from happening. Something isn't adding up.
I refuse to sit back any longer and let her continue to ruin my life. It's time to claw my way back up to the top and reclaim everything she took from me...even if it means I have to join hands with witch-kind's historical mortal enemies: the super powerful, super rich Hunter family--yup, they used to hunt witches, and only stopped when we agreed to give up Black Magic. Oh, and of course, the guy I'm assigned to work with, Miles Hunter, has to be super hot, too. Seven Hells! Can't a girl catch a break?
9.4
Cruel Capone
9.4
Whitney Rivers, a plastic surgeon who dreams of owning her own practice, crosses paths with Casio Capone. Her life takes a turn in a way she never would have expected. What started as a chance encounter in the busy streets of New York City turns into a whirlwind connection she can't resist.
Until one day, when everything shattered.
An attempt to get to Casio, Whitney is kidnapped by his enemies as leverage. Entering the dark and violent underworld of the Mafia. Whitney comes face to face with coldblooded killers and the brutal reality of Casio's life.
Caught between danger and desire, will Casio and Whitney's connection become stronger, or will it crash and burn? Will it destroy them or make them unstoppable?
7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
8.9
Ellie Carter was already losing everything.
Seven days from eviction. No money. No safety net. Life had been unraveling for so long that survival alone felt like the only plan she had. Until she collided with Todd Blackwood-a billionaire CEO who doesn't rescue anyone. He owns outcomes, not hearts. And yet, when fate threw her into his orbit, Ellie realized she had entered a battlefield where every choice mattered-and every misstep could cost far more than she ever imagined.
What started as a contract became a war. Todd's dangerous ex-fiancée returned, armed with secrets designed to destroy them both, and the rules that were meant to protect Ellie turned into weapons against her. Survival alone was no longer enough. Ellie had to navigate power without losing herself, desire without surrendering, and trust without being destroyed.
Todd had built an empire on precision and control, but Ellie challenged him in ways that were infuriating and exhilarating. She could not be manipulated, and he could not dictate the outcome. Their connection became a dangerous dance where love and strategy collided-and where falling for each other could be the deadliest move of all.
As betrayal and temptation tested them, Ellie discovered that victory came not from submission, but from mastery. Every choice shifted alliances, every secret had consequences, and every move demanded courage. Todd was constant in ways few could be, and Ellie learned that strength could be shared without surrendering.
In a world where power and love are weapons, Ellie must decide how far she will go to protect herself, her family, and the life she has fought to reclaim. When the dust settles, only one truth remains: nothing worth having is ever given-it must be earned, defended, and chosen.
8.7
Synopsis:
She thought she could forget him by morning. She was wrong.
Catherine Moretti wanted to escape her past.
As the daughter of a powerful mafia boss, her life was full of danger, lies, and control. So she ran, hoping to start over, far from the world she was born into.
But one reckless night turned her life upside down, just to find out later she's pregnant with the hot Italian stranger's baby, the one she spent the night with!
Now, she's pulled back into the mafia world, only this time, into Nico's.
She ran from one mafia king... and ended up in the arms of his enemy
However, Nico isn't the kind of man you walk away from.
And in his world, one night can turn into forever.
7.9
What if your next filthy favorite story started with a moan... and ended with "Yes, Daddy"?
Then take a deep breath... •ON MY KNEES, DADDY• is ready to leave you soaked, breathless, and aching for more.
This is a raw, erotic collection of dominant men who don't ask-they take. And their submissives? Oh, they beg. They kneel. They come apart, over and over.
Inside, you'll find stories that cross every line: hotel-room threesomes, forbidden stepdaddy fantasies, one-night stands, rough office sex, taboo roleplay, and the kind of dirty stories that will have your thighs clenched and your fingers wandering.
Warning: These pages drip with sin. Read in private, or get caught dripping. 18+ only.