Too Late For Regret: The Assistant's Revenge
For three years, Christina was Jackson Booker’s flawless executive assistant by day and his secret lover by night.
That was until she overheard him planning his high-profile marriage to heiress Carson Wall, casually telling his partners that Christina would be easily disposed of.
"Once the merger is finalized, I'll cut her a severance check. It's a non-issue."
When she tried to resign, Jackson tore up her letter, forcefully assaulted her in his private elevator, and declared she was his property.
The nightmare only escalated. At a corporate gala, Jackson literally handed her over to a sleazy, violent client just to secure a logistics contract.
"Mr. Boggs is a VIP guest, Christina. Don't disappoint him."
While Jackson walked away, the client dragged her into a hotel room and attempted to assault her. She barely escaped with her life, saved only by Jackson's powerful rival, Gaston Carter.
But the ultimate humiliation came the next morning. Jackson's new fiancée, Carson, cornered Christina in the office. Carson knew everything. She deliberately pressed her manicured fingers into the fresh, dark bruises on Christina's shoulder, smiling sweetly.
"You are a stress-relief toy, Christina. A dirty little secret he keeps on the payroll. And now that I am here, your playtime is over."
Christina couldn't understand how the man she loved could treat her like a disposable animal, allowing his bride to torture her for sport.
As she sat on the cold floor, her phone buzzed with a text from Gaston.
"Let me know when you are ready to stop being a victim."
The crushing despair in her chest ignited into a hot, burning fury. She picked up her phone and typed back.
"I'm ready. Where do we meet?"
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Chapter 4
The St. Regis ballroom was a sea of black tuxedos and glittering diamonds. The air was thick with the smell of expensive champagne, roasted truffles, and the predatory scent of Wall Street sharks circling a fresh kill.
Christina stood half a step behind Jackson's right shoulder. She wore a modest, floor-length black gown. It was elegant, but designed to make her blend into the shadows.
She held a sleek tablet, tracking the names and affiliations of everyone who approached him. Her feet ached in her heels, but her posture remained flawlessly straight.
"Jack, my boy!" a loud, booming voice cut through the chatter.
Christina's stomach instantly tightened.
Mickey Boggs pushed his way through the crowd. He was a heavy-set man in his fifties, his face flushed with alcohol, his tuxedo jacket straining at the buttons. He was the CEO of a logistics firm crucial to the upcoming merger.
Mickey smelled strongly of stale cigar smoke and cheap cologne.
"Mickey," Jackson said, his tone perfectly neutral. He didn't offer his hand.
Mickey didn't seem to care. He held two crystal glasses filled with dark amber liquid. He shoved one toward Jackson.
"Drink with me, Jack. To the merger!" Mickey slurred slightly.
Jackson looked at the glass. He held up his own glass of sparkling water. "I'm pacing myself tonight, Mickey. Early board meeting tomorrow."
Mickey's face fell, a flash of ugly annoyance crossing his features. He looked past Jackson and his eyes landed on Christina. His gaze dragged slowly down her body, making her skin crawl.
"Well, if Mr. Booker is too good for my scotch," Mickey said, a sleazy smile spreading across his face, "why doesn't your pretty little assistant drink it for him?"
He shoved the glass directly into Christina's face. The smell of the raw alcohol made her throat close up.
Christina took a half-step back, her eyes darting to Jackson. Tell him no, she pleaded silently. Tell him I'm working.
Jackson didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on Mickey.
"Mr. Boggs is a VIP guest, Christina," Jackson said, his voice smooth and utterly devoid of emotion. "Don't disappoint him."
The words were a physical blow. Christina felt the blood drain from her face. Her fingertips went completely numb.
He was throwing her to the wolves. For a logistics contract.
Mickey laughed, a wet, guttural sound. "Hear that, sweetheart? Drink up."
Christina's hand shook as she reached out and took the glass. The crystal was heavy. She brought it to her lips and tipped it back.
The scotch was cheap and burned like battery acid. It scorched her throat and hit her empty stomach like a lit match. She clamped her mouth shut, forcing herself not to cough, her eyes watering from the burn.
"Good girl," Mickey cheered. He immediately signaled a passing waiter and grabbed another glass, shoving it into her hand. "Another one!"
Christina looked at Jackson again. He was checking his phone, completely ignoring her humiliation.
She drank the second glass. Then a third.
By the fourth glass, the ballroom began to spin. Her stomach cramped violently, a sharp, twisting pain that made her want to double over. The edges of her vision blurred.
Mickey stepped closer. His sweaty, thick hand clamped down on her waist, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress.
"You know, Jack," Mickey said, leaning in so close Christina could smell the rotting food on his breath. "You've got a real talent for picking them."
Christina tried to pull away, but her legs felt like lead. She pushed weakly at Mickey's chest. "Please, don't."
Jackson's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, and his jaw tightened.
"Excuse me, Mickey. I need to take this," Jackson said.
He turned and walked toward the terrace doors, disappearing into the night air. He didn't even glance back. As she watched his retreating figure, Christina's peripheral vision caught another movement. The gentleman from Boston, Gaston Carter, was quietly excusing himself from the crowd and heading toward the hotel's private elevator banks. But the fleeting distraction was instantly shattered.
The moment Jackson was gone, Mickey's grip on her waist tightened painfully. He pulled her flush against his sweaty body.
"Looks like he left you to me," Mickey whispered, his wet lips brushing her ear.
Panic, cold and sharp, sliced through the alcohol haze. Christina shoved him with both hands, using all her remaining strength. Mickey stumbled back a step, surprised.
"I need to use the restroom," Christina gasped, turning and practically running through the crowd.
She bumped into shoulders and spilled drinks, ignoring the annoyed glares. She pushed through the heavy doors of the women's lounge and stumbled toward the sinks.
She gripped the marble counter, her knuckles white. She leaned over the sink, dry heaving. Her stomach violently rejected the alcohol, but nothing came up but bitter acid.
Tears streamed down her face. She looked at her reflection. Her makeup was smeared, her eyes bloodshot. She looked like exactly what Jackson treated her as-trash.
The door to the lounge opened.
The sharp, rhythmic click of expensive heels echoed on the marble floor.
Christina quickly turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face, trying to hide her breakdown.
A woman stepped up to the sink next to hers. The air instantly filled with the scent of a custom, incredibly expensive floral perfume.
Christina glanced over.
The woman was stunning. She wore a white silk gown that draped perfectly over her slender figure. Her blonde hair was styled in flawless waves.
It was Carson Wall.
Christina's breath hitched. She froze, the water running over her hands.
Carson opened her white crocodile Hermes clutch. She pulled out a pristine linen handkerchief and held it out to Christina.
"Had a bit too much?" Carson asked. Her voice was soft, melodic, dripping with sympathy. "Wall Street parties are always so brutal on women. They expect us to keep up with the boys."
Christina stared at the handkerchief. She slowly reached out and took it. "Thank you."
"I'm Carson, by the way," she said, offering a warm, perfect smile.
"Christina," she replied, her voice raspy. She wiped her face, her heart hammering against her ribs. Did Carson know who she was?
Carson turned to the water dispenser in the corner. She filled a crystal glass with ice water and walked back, pressing it into Christina's hand.
"Drink this. It'll help settle your stomach," Carson said gently.
Christina took a sip. The cold water felt like heaven on her scorched throat. "Thank you. You're very kind."
Carson leaned against the counter, crossing her ankles. She looked at Christina, her blue eyes scanning her face with a slow, deliberate intensity.
"You came with Jackson, didn't you?" Carson asked casually. "I saw you standing behind him earlier. He seemed... distracted tonight."
Christina's grip on the glass tightened. The alcohol made her sluggish, but her survival instincts flared.
"I'm just his assistant," Christina said carefully. "I don't really know his moods."
Carson smiled. It was a beautiful smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Of course," Carson said. She pulled a tube of Tom Ford lipstick from her clutch and perfectly reapplied it, pressing her lips together. "Assistants never know anything, do they?"
She snapped her clutch shut.
"Feel better, Christina," Carson said, turning and walking out of the lounge.
Christina stood alone in the quiet bathroom. She looked down at the glass of water in her hand.
Suddenly, the water didn't feel soothing anymore. It felt cold, heavy, and deeply unsettling. Carson's eyes hadn't held sympathy. They had held the calculating look of a predator sizing up its prey.
Christina poured the rest of the water down the drain.
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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.
7.2
Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor.
When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself.
Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets.
When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.
8.3
Half a month into our cold war, I, Claire Parker, found an abortion procedure slip tucked inside Daniel Carter's suit pocket.
The patient's name belonged to the fragile little childhood sweetheart he had always protected so fiercely-Sophie Bennett.
I folded the paper calmly and slipped it back where I had found it.
Daniel noticed the movement immediately. His eyes flicked toward me through the rearview mirror, resignation coloring his voice.
"What are you overthinking now? Sophie was just keeping a friend company at the hospital. She accidentally left it there."
I turned toward the window and said nothing.
This was Sophie declaring war on me, yet the man who could crush competitors without mercy in the business world believed her completely.
The silence inside the car grew suffocating until Daniel finally stopped outside an upscale jewelry boutique.
He reached over and ruffled my hair with easy familiarity, his tone indulgent and affectionate.
"Come on. Pick out a ring. Your birthday's next month anyway, so we might as well register our marriage too."
I bit down hard on my lip as tears fell soundlessly onto the back of my hand.
What he still didn't know was that I wouldn't live long enough to see next month.
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
8.1
Red Moon
8.1
Blood Moon – Story Description
Blood Moon is a dark, thrilling tale of forbidden attraction, supernatural rivalry, and the fine line between predator and prey. Set in the seemingly ordinary Silver Hollow College, the story unfolds in a world where vampires and werewolves secretly coexist alongside humans, each hiding their true powers while battling their own instincts, rival clans, and the pressures of legacy. In this shadowed world, every glance can hide a threat, every conversation can carry hidden meaning, and every full moon can unleash the beast within.
At the heart of the story are Catrine Nella, a powerful young vampire, and Edwardo Zee, a disciplined yet conflicted werewolf. Catrine is sharp, cunning, and deadly, raised under the constant pressure of her ambitious step-sister who insists she feed on human blood to grow stronger. Catrine's natural talents in both magic and combat make her a force to be reckoned with, yet she struggles with morality, identity, and her own desire for control. Edwardo, on the other hand, is torn between his instincts as a wolf and the manipulations of his ruthless step-brother, who demands that he become a killer to claim alpha status. Edwardo wants to be a true alpha, not through bloodshed, but by protecting others and leading with honor-an ambition that sets him apart from his family and makes him both a target and a misfit among his kind.
The story begins with a violent, electrifying encounter between Catrine and Edwardo in the forest during the full moon. Both are drawn by their own impulses-Catrine performing a vampire ritual, Edwardo struggling to control the wolf within-and the resulting clash is fierce, brutal, and unforgettable. This first meeting ignites a dangerous rivalry, with each recognizing the other's extraordinary abilities while also sensing something forbidden and magnetic between them. Though enemies by instinct and heritage, the connection they forge amidst conflict sets the stage for a tension-filled enemies-to-lovers narrative that drives the series forward.
As the story unfolds, Silver Hollow College becomes a battlefield not just of physical strength but of intellect, cunning, and emotional power. Catrine and Edwardo test one another constantly-through subtle glances in class, tense encounters in crowded hallways, and increasingly dangerous confrontations in the forest. Each battle pushes them further, revealing vulnerabilities and strengths, and slowly transforms their relationship from animosity into fascination, grudging respect, and eventually, desire. Amidst this, both characters are confronted with the pressures of their families. Catrine's step-sister threatens her with weakness if she does not feed on human blood, while Edwardo's step-brother pressures him toward ruthless dominance, creating a constant tension that challenges their morality and tests the limits of their powers.
At its core, Blood Moon is a story about choice and identity. It explores the struggle between instinct and conscience, power and restraint, hatred and attraction. It examines what it means to be strong-not just physically, but emotionally and morally-in a world where strength often comes at the cost of humanity. Through fast-paced action, supernatural intrigue, and the slow-burning, dangerous pull between Catrine and Edwardo, the story blends romance, suspense, and fantasy into a gripping narrative. It is a saga of blood and moonlight, of predators and secrets, of rivalry and passion, and of two young supernatural beings whose lives are forever intertwined by fate, desire, and the power of the Blood Moon.
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.