Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon's Comeback
I was just a struggling actress in Hollywood, desperate for a chance to prove myself.
But the people I trusted most pushed me into hell. My boyfriend, Kole, and my best friend, Brittny, drugged me and handed my hotel room key to an abusive, greasy producer.
They traded my body just so Kole could secure a movie role.
As the producer pinned me to the bed and tore at my clothes, the original me died of sheer, paralyzing terror.
I saw the text message on his phone, a gloating confirmation of my ruin.
"She's all mine. You'll get your part."
I realized the two people I loved most had treated me like a cheap bargaining chip. While I was being assaulted, they were probably celebrating, building their future fame on my absolute destruction.
I didn't understand why they would do this. I gave them all my love and loyalty, only to be betrayed and discarded like trash.
The sickening mix of love, betrayal, and paralyzing fear should have been the end of my pathetic, helpless life.
But instead of breaking, a cold, calculating consciousness awakened inside me.
The soul of "Reaper," a legendary underground doctor and ruthless operative, took over this fragile body.
I snapped the producer's wrist, collected my blackmail evidence, and walked out into the cold Los Angeles night.
This new life is a war, and it's time to make them pay.
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Chapter 5
The security team, though hesitant, couldn't argue with the master of the house. They retreated to their posts, leaving a thick cloud of tension behind. Isadora stood guard by the door to the sickroom, her arms crossed, her eyes shooting daggers at Arely.
Arely sat on a plush sofa, a world away from the chaos. Elsworth sat opposite her, the space between them charged with a silent, heavy energy.
"How did you know?" Elsworth finally asked, his voice low. "That seizure... the flatline. You weren't scared."
Arely picked up a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. She took a sip. "Do you believe in miracles, Mr. Hall?"
Before he could answer, a commotion came from upstairs. It was Alfred's voice, filled with a joy that cracked his usual composure.
"Sir! Her fingers! Mrs. Hall moved her fingers!"
Elsworth shot up from his chair and took the stairs two at a time. Arely remained seated, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
In the bedroom, Eleanor Hall's eyes were open. They were cloudy and weak, but they were open. She looked at her grandson, and her lips moved, forming his name. "Elsworth..."
Isadora stared, her jaw slack. She performed a quick neurological check, testing pupil response, reflex. The recovery was medically impossible.
Elsworth gripped his grandmother's hand, his own eyes misty. He turned and saw Arely leaning against the doorframe.
"Day one," she said quietly. "She's awake. But she's not cured."
"It's post-mortem reflex! A temporary surge!" Isadora insisted, her voice shrill with denial. "Your methods are barbaric!"
Arely walked to the bedside table and placed a handwritten sheet of paper on it. It was a detailed post-op care plan, including a list of oral medications.
She looked at Elsworth, her gaze hard. "If you want her to live, get this woman out of your medical team. Now."
Isadora lunged for the paper, but Arely's stare stopped her cold.
Elsworth looked from his recovering grandmother to his hysterical cousin. He made his choice. "Alfred, please escort Ms. Hall from the premises."
"Elsworth, you can't!" Isadora cried, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down her face. "I was only trying to protect her!"
He turned his back on her. Security guards gently but firmly took her by the arms and led her, sobbing and screaming, out of the room.
The room was finally quiet.
"What's your fee for the next stage of treatment?" Elsworth asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Arely held out her hand. "Fifteen million. Now. The rest when she's fully recovered."
He didn't even blink. He made a call, and minutes later, Alfred returned with a cashier's check from a Swiss bank.
Arely took it, glanced at the number of zeros, and folded it into the pocket of her trench coat as if it were a grocery receipt.
She turned to leave.
"Wait," Elsworth called out. "Your name. Not your call sign. Your real name."
She paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
"Arely Wallace," she said. "That actress from Hollywood. The one with the terrible reputation."
The color drained from Elsworth's face. He stared, utterly speechless. The legendary surgeon who had just performed a medical miracle... was the tabloid fodder he'd seen plastered all over the internet?
Arely didn't give him time to process. She walked out of the mansion, into the bright, unforgiving sunlight.
She took a deep breath. Money in hand. Now, the real work could begin.
As she reached the grand entrance, Alfred was waiting. "Mr. Hall has arranged a car for you, miss. It will take you wherever you need to go." She gave the driver a new address, one for a high-end real estate agency in Malibu.
On the ride, she took out a burner phone. She composed an anonymous email to a notorious gossip blogger. Attached was the first file. A small taste of Kole Bowman's dirty secrets.
She hit send.
Looking out the window at the passing scenery, she whispered to herself, "Kole. Brittny. Showtime."
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9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
8.9
Seventeen-year-old Nina Storm has spent her life running from her tragic past, her dormant wolf, and the dreams of a mysterious man she can't escape.
Raised by her protective father after her mother's death, she has never stayed in one place long enough to call it home. But everything changed when they return to their home, the Moonlight Pack.
Nina discovers that her mate is Zane, the pack's Alpha... a bond that defies werewolf laws and the pack's expectations. Their undeniable attraction is dangerous, and their bond threatens to disrupt the fragile balance of power within the pack.
When an attack on the pack shatters her world, Nina loses everything, including her life. But death isn't the end.
Reborn, her dormant wolf awakens giving her a newfound strength and powers, Nina must navigate a world of betrayal, love, and vengeance as she unravels the truth about her family, her mate bond, and the danger threatening to destroy everything she holds dear.
7.5
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash.
Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive.
Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes.
"The Ruiz family sends their regards."
Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated.
My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends.
The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand.
Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her?
Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference.
I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel.
Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust.
Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in.
Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.
9.2
For four years, I was the Silvercrest Pack's biggest joke—a scentless, wolfless Omega who somehow became the Alpha's Luna.
I thought I was just naturally defective, until our fourth anniversary, when I overheard my husband Adrian talking to his Beta.
"I’ve been having the kitchens slip a silver-based compound into her meals since the day I marked her."
He confessed the poison was meant to suppress my inner wolf and keep my womb permanently barren. He only married me as a power play to make his highborn mistress, Seraphina, jealous. While I wept over my empty cradle and apologized to his family for my broken body, he was using pack funds to buy her custom luxury goods, tossing me the leftover wrapping paper. When I finally confronted him about the silver and tried to leave, he flew into a feral rage. He violently smashed my head against the marble vanity, leaving me bleeding on the floor, and locked the bedroom door behind him.
I lay there in the cold, staring at the pool of my own blood. My entire life, my endless pain, and my unborn pups were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke to the man who was supposed to be my Mate.
But Adrian didn't know I wasn't just a brainless Omega.
I wiped the blood from my face, climbed down the balcony trellis into the freezing rain, and pulled out an encrypted burner phone.
"The cage is broken. Initiate Phase Two."
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.
9.3
"She's mine tonight, asshole, you had her last week." Zack, taller and broader, with those piercing blue eyes, shoved him back hard. "Fuck off, Zade. Her tight little pussy belongs wrapped around my dick." And then there was Mark, my stepdad, looming in the doorway like a goddamn predator, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Both of you back the fuck off. I'm the man of the house and that sweet ass is mine to pound whenever I want."
❤️❤️❤️
Dive into this sizzling erotica collection of taboo tropes where forbidden flames erupt in shadows of power and secrecy. Stepfamily sparks fly between a seductive step sis and stepbrothers under one tense roof. Mythical beasts knot with innocent human girls in primal forest trysts. A mafia kingpin claims a pure-hearted nun in a ruthless game of dominance. Captor hunts prey in a thrilling chase of possession. "Dad's Best Friend" awakens cravings in his ally's daughter, shattering loyalty. "Boss x Stripper" ignites when an executive ensnares his hypnotic dancer in high-stakes control. "Professor X Student," where forbidden mentorship spirals into obsessive bonds in lecture halls after dark. "Coach x Cheerleader," rigorous drills turn into steamy locker room rituals after hours. "Priest x Parishioner," sacred confessions unravel into sinful midnight vows.
Read if you're ready for some heat.