7318 Book(s) Related to the rejected heiress claimed by three

To the rest of the world, I was just a blue-collar "oil rig worker" battling the sun and storms at sea year-round.

But my true service record is locked deep in the Pentagon’s top-secret archives. Codename: "Ghost"—a specialist handling the military's deadliest black ops overseas.

The day my final mission ended, I pushed open my front door filled with anticipation, only to be greeted by a floor pooled with blood and smashed furniture.

An untouchable syndicate had beaten my wife black and blue and abducted my seven-year-old son, threatening to harvest him for the black-market organ trade.

Right now, safely holed up in a subterranean fortress, the arrogant syndicate boss is hiding behind multi-ton blast doors and dozens of hired guns, scoffing at the "cowardly" husband who only knew how to cry to the cops.

What they don't know is that, just a few minutes ago, I permanently shredded that disguise.

Let the hunt begin...

Several days after being locked in the dungeon, my wife married my own identical twin brother.
Rose petals rained from the sky; the entire city celebrated the new marriage of the crime family's matriarch.
She thought I would weep in despair in the dark dungeon, admitting my mistakes to her.
Little did she know, I was currently being held in the arms of another, even more powerful figure whom she herself feared, watching this farce with cold eyes.
In my past life, I gave her my heart, only to be betrayed and abandoned in return.
Living a second time, I will not serve her anymore.
She thought she could tame me using my brother's injury as an excuse, not knowing I had already tricked her into signing our divorce agreement days ago.
When she finally checked the surveillance and learned the truth, kicking down the dungeon door in a frantic plea for my forgiveness, all that remained was a pool of my blood...

As the undisputed queen of the CS department, my world used to consist of nothing but the absolute rationality of zeros and ones.
Until Corbin Hawke, hockey captain with his star-athlete entitlement, bulldozed past my firewall with his Academy Award-worthy act and a "love algorithm" he supposedly pulled all-nighters to write.
I naively believed it was the upgrade I'd been waiting for.
Until this moment.
The shower ran in the bathroom, his carefree humming drifting out, while my iPad lit up beside me. Thirsty texts from some cheerleader flashed across the screen, followed by him running his mouth in the team group chat:
"Easy, fellas. Dumping this frigid nerd at the championship party tomorrow and collecting that five-hundred-dollar bet. That script I copied off Stack Overflow for 200 bucks? She ate that shit up."
Staring at those vile messages, whatever naive warmth I'd stupidly let myself feel got deleted from my system in one clean swipe, leaving nothing but cold, pure logic.
Pissing off a top-tier hacker would be the most catastrophic mistake he'd ever executed.

With a 28.6-second prediction ability, Kane Voss hides as an ordinary shop owner. His cold lawyer wife holds a buried family crime secret. Assets wars, deadly ambushes, and underworld battles break out. He unfolds his god of war aura, crushes all enemies, and tears down every hidden dark truth.

Three years ago, Marco Ferraro stepped over the corpses of the Vancetti family to claim his throne, delivering my sentence with cold indifference: "Don't take it personally, Noelle. It's just business."
Three years later, he is the untouchable new Godfather of New York, while I am nothing but a ghost in a threadbare coat.
His classless fiancée didn’t just buy my mother’s legacy—she took that rare pink diamond and dropped it, right in front of everyone, into a glass of whiskey thick with spit.
"Thirsty, fallen princess?"
She kicked the backs of my knees hard, forcing me onto the glass-strewn floor. Her sharp stiletto heel ground into my knuckles. "Drink it, or die."
Marco stood to the side, lighting a cigar, his eyes filled with nothing but boredom.
I tightened my grip on the shard of glass hidden in my palm, ready to drag us all down to hell.
But before I could strike, the deafening roar of rotor blades tore through the dome of the auction house. A pitch-black military helicopter hovered just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the violent rotor wash instantly shattering every champagne tower in the room.
A voice that made the entire underworld tremble boomed through the speakers:
"Which one of you suicidal bastards touched my woman?"
A dozen crimson laser dots instantly painted a target on Marco’s forehead.
Rafael, "The Phantom," had arrived.
Tonight, no one makes it out of here alive—except me.

Three years ago, in that deadly barrier, I carved out half my progenitor heart and dragged Theron back from death's door. The wound on my back has never healed.
I thought it was a soul blood pact—bound in life and death. Then Samaela appeared, that fragile human with barely a century to live, and it all became a joke.
He believed her lies. Swallowed every word about how I'd murdered her parents in cold blood.
For that pathetic creature who couldn't even bear sunlight, my carefully groomed blood vassal sawed off my pureblooded wings, ripped out my progenitor fangs with his bare hands, and threw me into the Silver Cathedral.
Three years. Nailed to a cross with pure silver chains, I endured concentrated UV rays and holy water burning through me day and night.
Everyone waited for me to go mad, to beg, or turn to ash. I didn't.
Listening to their wedding bells toll outside, I simply watched—in the silence of my flesh charring and regenerating—as the silver light on my chains fractured inch by inch.
Then I tore out the silver spikes embedded in my rotting flesh, dragged my bleeding wreck of a body forward, and kicked open the doors to the Crimson Blood Moon Gala's hall.
Theron had forgotten one forbidden clause in the blood pact: The oathbreaker's life belongs not to the gods, but to me.

The day the butler of Sterling family came to claim me, the folks back in my dusty hometown lined the streets with tears in their eyes, waving goodbye like I was headed somewhere better.
The moment I stepped into that mansion, armed guards pinned me down in the first-floor medical suite, demanding I donate bone marrow to their precious adopted daughter, Celeste.
I responded by ripping out Celeste's dialysis machine.
My biological parents, Richard and Eleanor, went ballistic. They locked me in the attic storage room to "reflect on my behavior."
That night, while the house slept, I crept down to the basement and twisted open the main gas line valve.
I was halfway through rigging a candle delay fuse when the thermal imaging system caught me. Armed security tackled me before I could finish the job.
They'd had enough. They blindfolded me, tossed me onto a private jet like garbage, and flew me overnight to the most notorious hellhole in America—Deadwater, Texas.
The car had barely stopped in front of the bullet-riddled town sign when Richard leaned in with a cold warning:
"Listen to me. These people don't show mercy. An ungrateful brat like you? Three days, tops, before they pick your bones clean."
Eleanor stood beside him, dripping with fake concern:
"Willa, just agree to donate your marrow to Celeste, and you'll still be a Sterling. Stay here in this godforsaken wasteland, and you're dead."
I spat blood at her shoes. Eleanor's mask shattered. She ripped off my hood and shoved me hard into the dust.
I pushed myself up slightly, staring coldly at the yellow sand beneath my hands, and shook my head.
I squinted up at the familiar landscape—the rusted water tower, the butcher shop with skinned hogs hanging in the window, the faint smell of gunpowder in the air.
Funny. Nobody ever told me that the place I'd spent twenty years calling home was what rich people called "Deadwater."
Well. Since I'm here anyway.
Nobody's leaving this town alive today.

They all thought I was just a rogue soldier who had crawled back from the border, covered in gunpowder and looking for revenge for my family's old debts.
Everyone was guessing which building I would blow up next. Julian, as I expected, panicked.
He recalled all his elite personnel to the Vientiane Building, activated top-level security, practically turning the entire office building into an impenetrable fortress, and sealed off assets globally to prevent my "illegal theft."
But he made a mistake.
When he personally pressed the reset lock, attempting to regain control of the system through manual verification, he didn't hear the prompt of command execution, but rather the hydraulic hum emanating from the building's load-bearing walls—it was the "self-destruct program" he had personally signed, running as scheduled under the guise of my privileges.

We were ambushed by rogue wolves and chased all the way to the cliff's edge.
Caleb—my mate, Alpha of Ravenrock Pack—was covered in blood, barely strong enough to carry one person across the chasm.
Forced by the alliance marriage between our packs, he ultimately chose me.
Laura was left behind. The feral rogues tore her apart, piece by piece. They didn't even leave a body.
Three days later, Caleb acted as if nothing had happened and completed our mating ceremony on schedule.
After the wedding, he stripped me of every dignity of my position as Luna. He treated me like a prisoner, a punching bag for his rage, making me pay for Laura's brutal death.
When I learned that my entire pack had been slaughtered, I was locked in a freezing dungeon, wanting nothing more than release.
I used the last of my strength to rip apart our mate bond. But Caleb, driven completely mad, tore me to pieces with his own hands.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the rogue attack.
This time, I chose to step back and give the one he truly loved a chance to survive.

When he was alive, Owen loved me so much he’d give his life for me. Yet, as for his death, I was as cold as a mere bystander.
At the funeral, his family slapped me, clawed at my throat, called me a man-eating black widow. Every last one of them turned on me, eyes red, demanding the same thing: Who killed Owen?
I didn't say a word.
My ten-year-old son went into cardiac arrest right there and was rushed to the ER — and still I said nothing.
Not until that voice cut through the crowd.
"I killed Owen."
I slowly raised my eyes.
After staying silent for so long… maybe it was finally time to tell the truth.

I am Mandy Langley, 42 years old, CEO of Sterling International. In Manhattan's cutthroat business world, I'd earned the name "Ice Queen."
Five years divorced, my ex-husband's parting words still stung—he'd called me cold as stone, said I was nothing but a dictator even in bed.
He had no idea my frost was a facade, hiding an emptiness and a craving no one could touch.
I controlled billions in assets, yet I lay awake every night, consumed by a single thought: I wanted a man to make me let go, to force me to surrender completely.
That man walked into my office three years ago, and I'd been drowning ever since.
Allen Thorne, my chief assistant, 28 years old—too young, shamefully young, and yet I couldn't resist him.
A year ago, I discovered the truth: he was the CEO of Vortex Capital, my rival, planted here to destroy me.
I should've fired him on the spot. Instead, I kept him close, pretending it was to watch him, when really, I just couldn't let him go.
Dangerous, magnetic, ruthlessly in control—he was everything I shouldn't want. I never exposed him. I fell harder instead.
I buried this forbidden desire, but every day he was there, right in front of me, taunting me.
What was I supposed to do? Cut him loose—or let him claim me?

At 2:17 AM, six weeks postpartum, new mom Harper thought she was just responding to her baby's crying. Instead, she discovered her husband Kieran and their live-in nanny Anya in the most intimate embrace—right beside her daughter's crib.
In her most vulnerable moment, in what should have been the safest space in her home, the two people she trusted most were betraying everything sacred about motherhood and marriage. Worse yet, they thought she was just another "baby-brained" mom who would never catch on.

They seriously underestimated what a mother is capable of.

When Harper finds that mysterious $300 Victoria's Secret charge on their shared account, when she discovers Kieran's handwritten love notes hidden in Anya's room, when she overhears them mocking her "annoying" middle-of-the-night feedings—she realizes it's time to show them what a real "burning sensation" feels like.

So the next time they tried to sneak around, Harper secretly swapped out their lube for her own special blend.

If you want to play with fire, let me show you what burning really feels like.

In my past life, just one day before the national evaluation camp that would make or break his career, my hockey-prodigy best friend faked an illness. He was ready to throw away his entire future just to go party in Chicago with a cheerleader.

Thinking I was doing him a favor, I stepped in. I tipped off his coach, saved his career.

Years later, he became a multimillion-dollar superstar. His way of thanking me? Framing me with doctored charity records and sending me to federal prison. He even smiled as he delivered the final, crushing blow:

"I planned that crash on the icy road, Kassia. Your parents' lives were just the price you had to pay for sticking your nose where it didn't belong."

Now, my eyes snap open to the deafening cheers of our high school hockey arena.

Sitting right next to me, that same cheerleader is eagerly plotting how to corner him after the game.

Growing up, my parents and brother favored only me, treating my sister Della like a burden. They locked her in the basement and fled overnight with me to Aldermere.
Twenty years later, for the sake of my upcoming wedding, they brought me back to that old house to erase the last traces of her existence.
But none of us expected that Della wasn't dead. Decades had passed, yet she still looked exactly as she did back then. She even followed us to our new home—and right now, she’s sitting quietly on our living room sofa, slowly turning her head to smile at us...

The night I was reborn, my adoptive brother—Viktor Konstantin, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—was poisoned during a negotiation.

In my past life, I loved him desperately. So when the aphrodisiac took hold and he gasped for me to call Liliya, I made a selfish choice. I stayed. I gave myself to him.

She arrived too late. When she saw us together, she ran. Her plane crashed over the Atlantic that same night.

Viktor married me without a word of blame. Until a turf war when our enemies captured me—seven months pregnant, chained up, beaten bloody. I called him, begging for help through my tears.

His answer shattered me: "You want to live? After killing Liliya? You and that bastard don't deserve to breathe. Go to hell, Eve."

I died in that cell. Our daughter died with me.

Now I'm staring into those same drugged eyes again.

This time, I'm making the call.

The bite mark on the silver chain can never be copied, and it’s the only proof separating truth from fraud. My roommate leaked my secret to her boyfriend, who wore a counterfeit chain to play my long-lost savior. They nearly drained all my money before an anonymous text alerted me to their scheme. I exposed their fraud in public, and finally reunited with the real boy who hid beside me all along.

After being reborn, my cousin and I swapped mates.
Last life, she married Kaelen Thornfield — the coldest Alpha in the West. Fifty years together and he never marked her. Not once. His childhood "friend," an Omega with a PhD in crying on command, made sure of that. My cousin faded into nothing. Unmarked. Unloved. Invisible.
Me? I married a man who couldn't stand the sound of my voice. Eleven months. Done.
This time, I took the western contract. Drove three days across the country in a beat-up truck, blew a radiator in the middle of nowhere, and rolled into his pack's territory covered in engine grease and smelling like a gas station.
His little Omega took one look at me and wrinkled her nose.
She has no idea what's coming.
I don't do tears. I don't do subtle. And when some girl sobbed at my mating ceremony about how jealous she was of me — I grabbed my Alpha by the collar and sank my teeth into his neck.
In front of the entire pack.
Without asking.

I died on the day my fiancé Song Jinnian got engaged to his white moonlight, Shen Zhiyi.

Shen Zhiyi wore the evening dress designed by Song Jinnian himself, smiling sweetly as she linked her arm through his, accepting blessings from every guest in the hall.

I was at the scene of a car crash on Highway 23, half a steel rebar piercing straight through my chest. Warm blood trickled down the cold metal, pooling into a stark, glaring red pool beneath me.

I called Song Jinnian seventeen times.

He hung up instantly on the first sixteen.

On the seventeenth ring, he finally answered.

The melodic music of the banquet hall hummed in the background. His voice was low, laced with unbridled impatience: “What’s your problem now? How many times do I have to say it—marrying Zhiyi is just a formality. Can’t you act your age and quit this nonsense?”

I tried to speak, but blood froth surged up my throat, stealing my ability to form a full sentence. All I heard was the busy tone as he hung up without a second thought, echoing in the empty car, one beep at a time, shattering my last shred of hope.

Song Jinnian would never know that the girl he dismissed as a spoiled, tantrum-throwing lady was pinned to the driver’s seat by that steel rebar.

Beneath my slightly bulging abdomen lay our two-month-old unborn child.

Trembling, I let go of the phone soaked in blood. With my final ounce of strength, I dialed the funeral home.

“Hello. Near Highway 23… please come collect a body from a car crash.”

A pause came from the other end, followed by the routine question:

“Who are you to the deceased?”

All around me, only the rain hammered against the car windows, and my breath grew fainter and fainter. I forced out my last words:

“I am… the deceased herself.”

I died once.

Spent seventy years as a housewife the first time around. Biggest regret? Never felt my heart race.

Met her in this life, and that's when I learned what being alive actually meant. In this world where assassins pay in gold coins and seek sanctuary at Continental hotels, we became a duo called "Swans," hunting down the man who destroyed her family. Every single day, dancing on a razor's edge.

Two years ago, the explosion killed Raven Hayes right in front of me.

To survive, I married a naive tech heir, slipped into silk dresses and started doing the charity gala circuit, tried to convince myself this was the peace I wanted.

Until that enemy became a High Table member and announced a hundred-million-dollar bounty on me to the world.

I used to be scared. Used to run. Used to ask why it had to be me.

But sitting at my vanity, staring at this stranger's face in the mirror, all done up like some socialite, I suddenly realized none of it mattered anymore.

I'm going to die eventually anyway. Might as well die looking like myself.

When my roommate Sutton woke up from a wet dream, she was literally glowing. She claimed it was the most mind-blowing romantic experience of her life—the man’s silhouette, his scent, his body heat felt impossibly real.
Even crazier? When she checked her phone, there was a strange new number saved in her contacts. It belonged to the man from her dream.
While the rest of us shrieked about destiny, our moody roommate Jessamine just stared at the screen and dropped a chilling warning: "Things that come looking for you in dreams should stay buried."
We all wrote her off as a jealous freak.
That is, until I started noticing Sutton’s face growing more haggard by the day—and the fact that her "perfect boyfriend" refused to speak a single word to her.

Sophia and I fought over who would wear that emerald ring to change our fate.
In my first life, I claimed the emerald ring, thinking I would become a billionaire heiress.
That was until late at night, when I accidentally opened that underground iron door and he strangled me to death with a piano wire: "Your pathetic wailing isn't her at all."
Given a second chance, I backed away and let Sophia take it.
A few days later, she died in the ice cellar with her tongue severed. Right before she died, she let out a blood-curdling whimper: "A true devil is hiding behind that door!"
Waking up for the third time, we trembled in sheer terror as the ring was offered to us once again.
Just who exactly is the daughter he is looking for?

After my miscarriage, my psychiatrist husband offered to erase the painful memories to help me forget them.

During the three months I was dumped in a rehab facility, he took our daughter and his cousin on a European vacation.

Now that they're back, he assumes I’ll go right back to being that meticulous, perfect wife.

But I didn't.

He deliberately provokes me, thinking my coldness is just me playing hard to get.

He has no idea that the brainwashing procedure didn't just wash away my pain—it completely severed my love for him.

Here is the translation, adapted into the explosive, high-stakes style of a bestselling American domestic thriller. The pacing is sharp, and the emotional transition from shock to cold vengeance is deeply amplified:

For five years, I honestly believed I was the happiest woman alive.

Until today. The day I came home early and stood frozen just outside the balcony, listening to his phone call.

"What? Shuying, you're pregnant?" Tingshen's voice was laced with a raw, unbridled euphoria I had never once heard before. "I knew getting rid of Jiang Wan's baby back then was the right move."

My knuckles turned stark white as I death-gripped the ultrasound report in my hand.

Qin Shuying. My absolute worst rival. They had been sleeping together.

"Tingshen, are you sure she won't find out?" Shuying's sickeningly sweet voice drifted through the phone's speaker, piercing my eardrums. "If Jiang Wan ever realizes you were the one who killed her baby, she's going to raise hell."

"Relax." Tingshen laughed, his tone dripping with the kind of casual contempt reserved for swatting a fly. "She's so clueless. She honestly believes it was her own failing body. The stupid bitch even cried and apologized to me. She'd never in a million years suspect I drugged her."

My nails drove so brutally into my palms that they broke the skin.

"Besides, I finally got my hands on her core design drafts. Consider them a welcome gift for our baby. As for her shares in the company..." He paused, savoring his own smugness. "She's about to sign them all over to me anyway. So what if her old man built an empire? It's all dropping right into my lap."

The world tilted violently on its axis.

I was carrying his child again.

Just five minutes ago, before I overheard this monstrous phone call, I had been acting like a giddy fool, planning the perfect way to surprise him with the news.

My trembling hand drifted down to my lower stomach. My chest cracked open, a visceral, violent tearing of my own heart. The baby I had desperately longed for and mourned... chemically aborted by their own father, all to keep his mistress happy.

My sweet babies, I thought, the devastating sorrow rapidly freezing into sheer, icy rage. Mommy is going to make them pay for every drop of blood.

An hour ago, at the company’s press conference, I had just helped my husband Carlisle quell the ninety-ninth scandal of his affair.
Now, he has my assistant Russell pinned against my office desk, kissing him, his hand slipping under Russell’s miniskirt and groping wildly.
In that moment, I’ve already planned the publicity spin for the hundredth time.
But I’m not sure if my dear husband Carlisle and his lover will make it that far.
Because the revenge banquet I’ve been preparing for three years is about to begin.

As the only daughter of a mafia family, I learned early that trust doesn't come cheap. When my father got sick, he gave me an ultimatum: if I want to take over the family, I have to get married first.

Everyone assumed I'd pick my childhood friend, Vincent Moretti—son of my father's right-hand man. Hell, even I thought so. Until my last life, when he left me to burn.

Father died in an ambush. I was trapped in a metal cage at an abandoned dock warehouse while flames swallowed everything. I begged Vincent for help. He stood thirty feet away, the cage key right by his feet.

"Cat, as long as your father's alive, he'll never give me the family. This isn't personal. It's business."

Sophia was wrapped around him—my so-called best friend. She smiled at me and said she'd take good care of everything.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw a figure in black charging into the flames—Elijah, the bodyguard I'd called "trash" and "a dog."

Then I opened my eyes and woke up a month before my birthday party. This time, I'm giving that position to someone who actually deserves it.

But why is Vincent on his knees at my engagement party, crying and begging me to marry him?

I accompanied my husband, Kieran, down to the Antarctic station’s underground quarantine zone to rescue an ice-bacteria sample at negative forty degrees. Halfway there, he asked me to fetch some data. I was gone for exactly three minutes. When I came back, he had vanished.
The institute staff told me I had gone insane, wandering the halls searching for a husband who had been dead for three years.
They called Kieran’s mentor, Dr. Reiner. Through the phone, the old man wept, swearing that Kieran had fallen into the deepest ice rift in Antarctica three years ago. Not even his bones were recovered.
Branded a lunatic, I was thrown into a sealed bio-containment pod twenty miles away. I became a human guinea pig. Under endless rounds of experimental drugs, my organs failed one by one until I died on that cold metal table.
Then, I blinked. Kieran was standing right in front of me, rushing me to the lab...

I'm a figure skating prodigy from one of the wealthiest families in the country. I'm also an idiot.

I believed that if I was kind enough, people would be kind in return. So I sponsored Haley Dunning, a scholarship skater on our team, and treated her like my own little sister.

The day before the NCAA qualifier, she came up to me with a sports drink, said she wanted to help keep my energy up.

I drank it. Went down on the ice with a broken leg. Drug test came back positive for banned stimulants.

Overnight, I went from the queen of the rink to the face of a scandal no one could stop talking about.

Expelled from school. Torn apart on social media. Calloway Corporation's stock in freefall.

Haley stood in front of the cameras, tears in her eyes: "Piper just wanted to win so badly. I never thought she'd go this far..."

I fell into a depression. Couldn't sleep without medication.

Then one day, she showed up at my hospital room with my boyfriend, bearing "comfort": a cup of water and a few pills: "Piper, take your meds, okay? This is all my fault for being so stupid..."

Three minutes later, I'm coughing up blood, convulsing on the floor.

Right before I died, I caught the look on her face. That sweet, innocent face. A slow, vicious smile spreading across it.

She knocked over the pill bottle and started screaming: "I grabbed the wrong ones! I mixed up her antidepressants with some old person's heart meds! I'm so stupid!"

My boyfriend pulled her into his arms. Didn't even glance at me dying on the floor: "She meant well. Piper just had bad luck."

I was poisoned to death in that hospital room.

Then I opened my eyes, and it was the day before the qualifier.

My neighbor Beck Morrow was the best high school point guard this state had seen in years.
The night before the state championship—three college scouts in the stands—he decided to stay home with his girlfriend instead. She wasn't feeling well.
I called his coach.
He played. He got the scholarship. He built a company worth eight figures before he turned thirty, and I spent five years writing every algorithm that company ran on.
He repaid me by throwing a ball at my head during a training session. Then his lawyers sent a letter explaining that I had no legal claim to any intellectual property developed under my employment contract, effective immediately, and that my position was being terminated.
Then I woke up. It was the first week of senior year again.

My head throbbed painfully, and every inch of my body felt as if it was being torn apart. The man I spent the night with was a force of nature, an absolute beast in bed. Glancing at the scattered condoms around, I estimated we’d gone at it five or six times last night. I sighed, convincing myself it was just a one-time fling, a steamy memory I’d cherish. After all, I didn’t even know his name, and I was sure we’d never cross paths again.​

But fate had a twisted sense of humor. The moment I stepped into Silver Moon Pack as a newly - signed actress, I froze. There he was—the Alpha whose eyes held me captive, the same man I’d shared that wild night with. I’d dreamed of this moment, thinking it was my ticket to stardom. Little did I know, this Alpha was infamous as the “Demon Alpha.” Now, I couldn’t help but wonder: Would I survive his clutches?

My new book, Cage of Thorns: The Assassin's Redemption, is now available. All readers are welcome to check it out!

It was a rainy night, and I was running wildly down the road, that man chasing relentlessly behind me, a malicious grin carved into his face. Desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—safe, the brightly lit bookstore not far ahead became my only glimmer of hope.

Then I tripped.

I struggled to scramble back to my feet, but the rain and slick pavement betrayed me, sending me crashing down once more. A sharp pain tore through my knees as the sound of footsteps behind me grew louder, closer. Panic surged. I clawed at the gravel submerged in muddy water, my fingertips just brushing against a sharp-edged stone when a low sigh breathed against my ear.

“You can’t run away.”

I turned my head.

He was already standing before me, rainwater streaming down his twisted face, his eyes gleaming with a crazed, cruel light. Slowly, he knelt down. One hand clamped around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. A blood-curdling laugh slipped from his lips.

“I’ve finally got you tonight,” he said. “You’ll be mine forever.”

Will Claire survive? Will she escape her attacker’s assault?

This is a novel of extraordinary imagination—step inside and uncover the thrill… and the answer.

"You abandoned her five years ago. You don't get to take her back now."

Dante Moretti's icy voice silenced the entire room.

My ex-fiancé stared at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Mia... come home with me."

Dante wrapped an arm around my waist.

"She's already home."

Five years ago, Mia Hayes was publicly abandoned by her fiancé, humiliated by New York's most powerful mafia family, and forced to disappear with her sick mother.

Now she's back—not by choice.

Her mother's life depends on the ruthless billionaire Dante Moretti, the man everyone fears... and the uncle of the man who once broke her heart.

Dante offers her a deal she can't refuse:
Stay in his mansion for three months, and he'll save her mother.

But living under the same roof means discovering the truth.

Why did Dante secretly keep every sketch she ever drew?

Why has he been protecting her from the shadows for five years?

Why does every member of the Moretti family fear the way he looks at her?

When her ex-fiancé begs for a second chance, Dante simply pulls her into his arms in front of everyone.

"She's mine."

But what happens when Mia uncovers the devastating secret behind the broken engagement...

And realizes the man she fears most may have loved her all along?

"She saved me, Vivian. Not you."

Those words shattered Vivian's heart.

For three years, she endured her husband's coldness and his secretary's endless provocations.

She never knew that the woman he trusted most had stolen her identity.

Or that the man she loved had secretly loved her all along.

When the truth finally came out, it was already too late.

Vivian had divorced him.

She had disappeared with his unborn child.

And she had no intention of coming back.

Five years later, the former ballerina returned as the sole heiress of a powerful family.

Standing beside her was a little girl with eyes identical to Caden Lux's.

The billionaire who once ignored her had gone mad.

He blocked her in the dressing room, knelt before her, and even accepted the possibility that another man had taken his place.

Because losing his pride was nothing.

Losing Vivian had nearly killed him.

But after everything he had done…

Could she ever forgive the man who chose another woman over his own wife?

"I hate you."

Those were the last words my Alpha whispered before he severed our bond.

I believed our marriage was over.

I was wrong.

For two years, I thought Alpha Michael never loved me.

Every misunderstanding pushed us farther apart.

Every silence broke another piece of my heart.

While another woman slowly took my place.

But everything changed after the death of the Grand Alpha.

My mate began watching me.

Protecting me.

Holding me whenever I fell.

Looking at me like he was terrified of losing me.

If he hated me...

Why did he keep risking everything for me?

And why did everyone panic the moment I finally chose another future?

The room went deadly silent. Christopher, the CEO of Sullivan Group, looked at me with pure disgust. "Get this crazy girl out of here! My grandfather is dying, and you're playing sick games?"

But the old man on the bed... his eyes flew open. He stared at me—not at my young, beautiful face, but into my soul. He saw the sketch in my hand. A secret only a mother and her six-year-old son would know.

"Jimmy," I said softly, using the nickname no one had spoken in decades. "Do you remember the thunderstorms?"

Tears streamed down the old man's wrinkled cheeks. The most powerful man in Boston, reached out his frail hand to grasp mine. "Mama?" he choked out, his voice breaking like a small child's. "You came back?"

Christopher froze. The doctors froze. I climbed onto the bed and pulled my 80-year-old son into my arms. "I'm here, baby. Mommy's home."

What do you owe the people who saved your life—even if they're slowly destroying it?

Kira Vance has no past. No family. No name that's truly hers. Adopted at twelve by tennis royalty, she's spent five years as the invisible girl behind their golden boy, Ethan—the practice partner who makes him shine, the adopted daughter who never complains.

She's so good at disappearing, even she's forgotten who she used to be.

Then Adrian Cole walks into her life—a fallen legend who sees the player she's buried beneath years of obedience. He offers her something dangerous: choice. The choice to stop serving others and start fighting for herself.

But every serve she hits in her own name is an act of rebellion. Every win pulls her further from the only family she's known—and closer to Ethan, whose sudden confession forces her to confront feelings she's spent years avoiding.

In a game where love and loyalty are weapons, Kira must decide: Is freedom worth the price of everything she's ever known?

Ethan cheated on me.
Humiliated me.
Treated my love like a joke.

So I should have hated the Archer family.

Instead, I fell for the one man I could never resist—Julian Hall.

His father.

The powerful billionaire who rescued me at my lowest point.
The man whose hands felt sinful on my skin.
The man who looked at me like I belonged beside him.

Falling in love with Julian was already dangerous.

But becoming his wife?

That turned Ethan’s entire world into hell.

"Do you want this?" He asked against my lips. I nodded and slid my hands under his shirt. I ran my

hands up his muscled back, then over to his chest. I hummed as I gently moved my hands to his

shoulders and down his stomach to the top of his jeans.

"I never stopped wanting you." I wispered.


I am Joselyn Carter, an abused woman, will escape my husband's fury with the help of my best

friend.
My friend's husband refers me to a security company in Sweet Haven, New York-which

coincidently is owned by my high school love, Oliver Toller.

I will have to decide if I can accept the help of the man who broke my heart and open my heart to

another man, or if I will take my chances on my own and keep running.

Betrayed to death by my own brother, I was reborn before the apocalypse descended.
He rushed to seize the god-tier [Copy] talent first, leaving the trash [Purification] talent for me.
He thought that with this talent, he'd have no worries and reign supreme in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, I quietly closed the last door of my fortress.
He didn't know that his prized copying ability had a fatal flaw.

On the night of my 28th birthday, my husband was stuck in the OR.
The man sitting across from me at dinner was his best friend, Ronan.
I got drunk. Half-asleep, I pulled a man who smelled exactly like Nate into my bed.
When morning broke, the truth did too—the man pinning me down was Ronan. He’d used my husband’s cologne.
"From the first time I saw you, I wanted to steal you from him."
Crying, I confessed everything to Nate over the phone. Dead silence for three seconds, then he hung up.
By the time I rushed home, Ronan was dragging two suspiciously heavy black suitcases out the door. And my husband... vanished off the face of the earth.

“One million dollars!”. A deep voice bid making everywhere to go silent.


Just a day after Ashley turned eighteen, her parents sold her off to a gangster in order to pay their debt. The gangster decided to resell her in an audition where she was brought for a million dollars.

Ashley was brought by Xander Cage the don of the biggest mafia organization in the state. Xander needed a wife in order to present himself as a responsible man to him big time client.

Ashely found herself thrown into the ruthless world of the mafia where love is impossible. Will she be able to fit into the world or will she run done the hills. Find out more as you read.

Dear readers, this novel is coming to an end soon. I highly recommend another fantastic story of the same genre:


I’d appreciate all your support, thank you so much!
From first crush to wedding vows, George Capulet and I had been inseparable. But in our seventh year of marriage, he began an affair with his secretary.

On my birthday, he took her on vacation. On our anniversary, he brought her to our home and made love to her in our bed...

Heartbroken, I tricked him into signing divorce papers.

George remained unconcerned, convinced I would never leave him.

His deceptions continued until the day the divorce was finalized. I threw the papers in his face: "George Capulet, from this moment on, get out of my life!"

Only then did panic flood his eyes as he begged me to stay.

When his calls bombarded my phone later that night, it wasn't me who answered, but my new boyfriend Julian.

"Don't you know," Julian chuckled into the receiver, "that a proper ex-boyfriend should be as quiet as the dead?"

George seethed through gritted teeth: "Put her on the phone!"

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

Julian dropped a gentle kiss on my sleeping form nestled against him. "She's exhausted. She just fell asleep."

Emma Anderson has everything in her life worked out. She has her perfect job in a Manhattan empire allowing her to live a quiet and organised safe existence. A necessity to her, after a childhood filled with bad memories, abuse, and a mother who was less than useless. But, with it comes a problem, one that could derail everything she thought she needed in her life. Her promotion sends her straight into the close employment of young, gorgeous, playboy billionaire, Jacob Carrero with his formidable reputation for being a player. Stuck as his right-hand man, every waking moment of every single day, she realises he is exactly the type of person who could drive her crazy, and not in a good way. Like chalk and cheese, he is everything she's not. Compulsive, confident, laid back, dominant and fun, with a seriously laid back attitude to casual sex and dating. Jake is the only one with an ability to steamroll over her manicured ice maiden exterior, who is not phased by the closed in demeanour and cool manners, but as much as she wants to, letting him in is another thing entirely. A past that made her man wary and no desire to ever let one close enough to hurt her again, Jacob Carrero has his work cut out. He is not someone who takes NO for an answer and will have to learn how to break through if he wants more than the mask she shows the world. Jake needs to show her that even some one like him can change when that one girl that matters breaks through. Love-able sexy characters and deep emotional topics.

In everyone's eyes, Bertha and Derek had the wrong marriage. Married for three years, Bertha thought she would melt Derek's icy heart but she was wrong. Derek's heart only goes out to Laura - his ex-girlfriend. Derek treats Bertha poorly. One day, she saw her husband having an affair with Laura. Unable to continue anymore, she decided to divorce Derek. She will not waste her youth on a heartless man, someone who has trampled on her heart many times. After the divorce, Bertha returned to her parents' home, becoming the heir to the fortune left by her parents. No one knows her true identity. A life like a queen awaits her. As for Derek, he thought that Bertha's life would be miserable after the divorce until one day, he found Bertha and said. “I want to remarry with you. What are conditions?" Hearing Derek's words, Bertha just smirked, looking at him with disdain.

He was powerful.
He was terrifying.
He was huge.
He had the whole world under his feet, the whole world within his grasp—but to him, she was his world, she meant everything.
He was feared by all, but it only mattered that she was scared of him.
He was worshipped by billions, yet he worshipped the very ground she walked on.
His calloused hands were capable of ripping people apart, yet they only held her with tenderness and possessiveness.
His claws ripped out throats, yet they only extended towards her to play with her curls.
"For there will be one born from chaos, forged from the ruins and the ashes of the ages. He will be the chosen one, the one to host the darkness. He will be engraved with the lines of the goddesses' touch and the fates will bow to him. But he will be the one to bring forth the carnage, that will end the world's that began under his feet. His light, her darkness. Every darkness needs a light but his will be lost in the times. Betrothed to the darkness, one with it. The cycle will go on till the darkness finds the light, to be one eclipse. For at the end, blood will flow."

He rejected and humiliated her for being a nobody - not knowing he would soon be begging her for mercy.
Suddenly she becomes royalty - the Lost princess found.

Sebastian rejected Cindy and cast aside their fated bond, choosing another to be his Luna.But then fate had other things for him. The man who once held all the power, is brought to his knees.With his life and his wolf hanging by a thread, fate turns cruelly ironic. The very woman he broke now holds the power to save him.

Sebastian’s voice trembled as he reached for her.
“Please… Cindy…Lisa,” he begged. “You have to help me. I’m your mate.”
Her gaze remained steady, unyielding.
“You will address me properly,” she replied calmly.
“I am Your Highness to you. Only those who stood by me when I was nothing earn the right to call me by my name.”

Will Cindy offer mercy to the man who denied her worth?

"Margaret..."
Robert groaned my sister's name as he finished inside me.
For three years, I'd lived like a pathetic shadow of Margaret.
He shredded my college acceptance letter. Forced me into the silk dresses Margaret wore before she died. Shoved birth control pills down my throat while I choked on tears.
Everyone said the same thing: "Sophia, you killed Margaret. You owe her your life."
Even my own parents spat the words: "Why wasn't it you who died?"
I swallowed every humiliation, convinced that if I just endured long enough, the truth would surface.convinced that if I just endured long enough, I could finally pay my debt.
Until that rainy night when I heard her voice—Margaret's voice—dripping with casual amusement through a phone call:
"Oh, darling, it was just a joke. Who knew they'd actually fall for it? Watching Sophia crawl at Robert's feet like a dog, wearing my clothes, playing the replacement... honestly, it's the best entertainment I've had in years."
My entire world shattered.
My suffering had been nothing but her twisted game. The man I loved, my own family—they'd all conspired to destroy me, just to make her smile.
I shoved open the private room door. In front of everyone, I slapped Margaret across the face.
"You want to play games? Fine. Let's play."
I spun around and threw the pregnancy test results at Robert, who looked ready to lose his mind trying to keep me there.
"Robert, you don't deserve to be my child's father. Find yourself another replacement—I'm done."
Continuously updating, with 3 chapters added daily.

Scarlett Taylor looked at the test report saying she had a last-stage cancer, and the news of her husband, Everett Robinson, and his ex-girlfriend Amelia Martin getting married soon, and her world crumbled.
At that moment, she realized that her three years of marriage and love for Everett were nothing more than a joke.
Clenching the test reports in her hand, Scarlett decided to give up on this loveless marriage and live the remaining days of her life for herself.
At the gate of the divorce office, Everett sneered, "Scarlett Taylor, I am waiting for the day when you regret this!"
Scarlett looked at him and smiled mockingly, "The only thing I will regret is marrying you!" and left.
Two months later when Scarlett came back, Everett kneel in front of him, begging, "Scarlett, I regret it, Please forgive me and let's get back together."
Scarlett looked at him and sneered, "Get lost! I don't know you!"

She was an S-rank spy — cold, brilliant, unstoppable. Then her own people betrayed her, and she died.
She woke up as the family idiot everyone laughed at.
Scarred face. Malnourished. Dead last in school. Abused by her stepmother, framed by her sister, mocked by the entire campus.
The original owner of this body could take it. She couldn't.
Call her ugly? She formulates her own skincare remedy — and stuns the room.
Call her stupid? Top university presidents come knocking at her door. Legendary doctors beg for her secret formulas. Global superstars chase her down for a collaboration.
All she wanted was a quiet, ordinary life this time around.
Instead, her covers keep blowing, and without even trying, she's climbed back to the top of the world.
Meanwhile, the most mysterious young lord in the city opens her classified file from her past life. A slow smile crosses his face.
"This so-called idiot… is rather interesting."

Everyone at Ravencrest High knows one rule: stay away from Ryder Aldrich Steinmann. He’s the school’s most feared bad boy—cold, reckless, and completely untouchable. So when a vicious rumor threatens to destroy Raisa Tyla Petrova’s reputation, the quiet honor student does the unthinkable—she asks him to be her fake boyfriend.

What starts as a simple deal quickly turns into the biggest scandal on campus. Stolen glances become lingering touches, and fake kisses begin to feel dangerously real. But Raisa doesn’t know the truth—Ryder never agreed to help her out of kindness. He agreed because he’s been secretly in love with her for years… and now that she’s finally his, even if it’s just pretend, he has no intention of letting her go.

When the truth finally comes out, everything they’ve built begins to crack. 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗥𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗮 𝗿𝘂𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀, 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿?

For fifteen years, Anastasia Stafford lived a life defined by a single, cruel purpose: to serve as a living blood bank for her adopted sister.

She gave everything—her health, her talent, and her dignity—only to be discarded and betrayed by the very family she tried so hard to please.

Her first life ended in tragedy, falling from a building with nothing but regret.

But fate has granted her a second chance.

Waking up on her twenty-third birthday, Anastasia decides she is done being the silent victim.

She steps away from the toxic Stafford Family and turns to the one thing they could never take from her: her extraordinary talent for design.

She catches the eye of Richard Roosevelt , a powerful CEO who offers her a partnership rather than pity.

Anastasia is no longer just surviving;

she is systematically dismantling the family that ruined her ，and hunting for the truth behind her mother’s death.