884 Book(s) Related to penalty for possession

I am the Don Dante's wife, but my life runs through my husband's underboss who always seduce my husband, Elena.
I can't wear a coat without Elena's passcode.
My cards are monitored. My cash is approved. Dante calls it protocol. He calls it protection. He never asks why I wear the same faded sweater in winter.
I swallowed every humiliation because my mother's ventilator depended on his signature.
But Elena intentionally delayed funds for my mother’s medical treatment.
The brutal clash made me miscarry.
My mother died alone without timely treatment. I stopped filing all daily spending applications for three days straight.
Today he calls, calm and condescending, telling me the medical accounts are restored.
He thinks I'll fall back into line.
He doesn't know the only thing I'm requesting now is a signature—his, on the divorce papers.

On my birthday, my husband hands me a snow-white hamster with a smile and says keeping it in the house will bring us good luck.

My seven-year-old son names it Snow.

But the second I see its red eyes, my blood runs cold.

Because in my last life, I got the exact same gift on this exact same day.

Back then I treated it like something precious. I fed it the best food, bought it the biggest cage, cleaned out the shavings every single day.

And every night it burrowed into my blankets, bit through the skin at my wrist and my throat, and drank my blood a little at a time until there was almost none left.

I begged my husband to get rid of it. All he said was that I was paranoid, that I was faking being sick to get attention.

My son planted himself in front of the cage and screamed that Snow was better behaved than me.

Then, on our wedding anniversary, I collapsed in the bathroom and never woke up.

My spirit drifted near the ceiling, and only then did I finally see it.

That hamster climbed down off my body and turned into a woman in a white dress, and threw herself into my husband's arms.

His eyes went red and he said now that she'd drained me dry, she could finally take her real shape again.

My son ran to her and sweetly called her "Hamster Mommy."

It turned out the thing was my husband's old love, the one who'd died young. He'd used black magic to hide her inside a pet's body.

And I was nothing but a container. A blood supply.

Now my eyes are open again, and the cut on my finger is still warm.

This time, I won't let a single one of them get away.

In my last life, my mother-in-law locked me in the attic, and my wife openly cheated on me with the neighbor. Even when I was dying of terminal cancer, they bled me dry until my very last breath! Now that I've been reborn, the extreme-heat apocalypse is just around the corner. In this life, I'm living for myself. I spend every last cent of my savings stockpiling three years' worth of supplies and building a heat-proof survival villa! Now I can sit back and watch my mother-in-law's family struggle to survive in the deadly heat. Beg on their knees for my forgiveness? No! I will never forgive them!

I made 17 calls for help. My sister answered every one—and hung up.

For 48 hours, I lay dying in Pine Ridge Forest, texting desperate pleas to my family. They thought I ran away. The truth? My sister deleted every message while I begged for my life.

Three months dead. Zero funeral. My family didn't even notice I was gone.

Now the police have recovered my phone. Every deleted text. Every ignored call. Every lie my sister told to cover up what she did.

"Please. I can't feel my legs. I'm sorry I exist. Just don't let me die here."

They wanted me invisible. I gave them what they wanted.

Now they'll spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd answered when I called.

My downstairs neighbor tagged me in the building group chat at ten p.m.
His wife just had a pup, he said. Pups need moonlight, he said. So starting tonight, my private moon terrace belongs to his family.
He'd even pay me rent. Ten dollars a month.
For the terrace of a three-million-dollar penthouse.
When I said no, he reminded me he wasn't just my neighbor. He's my supervisor at the Calloway Group, and my probation review sits in his hands. Hand over the door code, or I'd never survive at that company.
He kept saying it. I can crush you at the Calloway Group.
Funny.
My mother owns the Calloway Group.
I was going to let him dig his own grave quietly. Then his family broke into my home, walked up to the one thing on that terrace worth half a million dollars—
And smashed it.

My world began to crumble the day my adopted sister, Opal, forced her way back into my life with a fatherless daughter in her arms.
My eldest son, Finn, was strapped to an operating table and used for live experiments until he was tortured to death. His remains were tossed into Death Valley.
For her, my husband struck me, costing me my second unborn child.
For her, my own brother locked me in a freezing dungeon. And my late father? He had been a slave to her charms long before he died.
While they threw a lavish birthday party for Opal’s daughter in the brightly lit banquet hall, I was pinned down by dungeon guards, my clothes being ripped off, inch by inch...

"Are you out of your mind?"

"The scouts are coming tomorrow, and you want to ditch the regional finals just to take care of her after a botched cosmetic procedure?"

I tipped off the school board to stop him from ruining his life.

Because of me, he won the championship and secured his draft pick. But because he stood her up, his girlfriend dumped him.

Years later, he sat at the top of a billion-dollar sports enterprise, while I was a researcher working for him.

Out of nowhere, he brought a carbon-fiber hockey stick down on my hands, crushing my finger bones to splintered dust

"Maeve, you cold, calculating machine," he spat. "This is your karma."

When I opened my eyes again, the agonizing pain was gone.

I had just been given a second chance.

A hormonal condition pushed my weight to two hundred pounds, and for three years, this boarding school made sure I never forgot it.

The ringleader was the guy every girl worshipped.

And beside him stood his girlfriend, the one who always stepped in at my worst moments with a soft voice and a sympathetic look, like she was doing me a favor.

Everyone called her an angel. Only I knew the truth: every time she "helped," things got worse.

One day, she handed me a candy in front of everyone. "Here. Something sweet always helps."

I didn't feel like I had a choice.

That night, a demon showed up at the foot of my bed.

"Congratulations. You ate the pact candy. I'll grant you three wishes — money, beauty, lifespan. You name it, I'll make it happen."

My whole body shook. Three years of humiliation, and finally there was a way out. Wealth, beauty, revenge. All I had to do was ask.

Then the demon's expression shifted, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"There's a catch, though. The real pact-holder is someone else. Whatever you wish for, the one who gave you that candy gets double."

The words I was about to say died in my throat.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

Double?

That's way more interesting than three wishes.

My dad made me a smoothie every morning for six months. I thought it was love.
It was a muscle relaxant.
He'd been slipping just enough into my drink to make my fingers tremble at full draw — just enough to cost me first place at every major competition. Not enough to kill me. Just enough to let Laurel beat me.
Laurel. His mistress's daughter. The girl he bought custom diamond jewelry while giving me clearance-rack gear for my birthday. The girl he wanted to drop into my family, my home, and my spot on the podium.
I found the proof. Stopped drinking his smoothies. Clawed my way back to number one.
Then, two days before the National Youth Archery Trials — the one competition that decides everything — he picked up a steel rod and swung it at my right arm.
My drawing arm.
The bone cracked. Doctors said three months minimum. My coach couldn't look me in the eye. Every scout, every scholarship, every dream I'd bled for over three years — gone in one swing from the man who was supposed to protect me.
Trials start tomorrow morning. And I can't hold a bow.

23-year-old Wren Vessylia, a fox shifter, has only known pain all her life. Hunted, sold, beaten, and tortured. So, when one day she is sold to an Alpha who uses her as leverage for the powerful Alpha Cassian Knight, Wren realizes her life is about to change drastically when Alpha Cassian Knight claims her as his.

Foxes and wolves are never meant to mix; their union is seen as unholy and impure. A forbidden attraction blooms between Cassian and Wren, one that only spells doom.

———————————————————————
"That's the problem, Wren. You don’t listen. You don’t go around chasing rogue wolves. You’re reckless and stubborn.”

I took a step closer, something in his tone igniting a spark of defiance in me. "And you hate that, don't you?"

"I don't hate it." His voice was lower now, rough. "It just scares me."

The honesty in his words caught me off guard. My heart pounded.

My fingers twitched at my sides, aching to touch him, to close the space between us.

Cassian exhaled sharply. "You drive me insane, Wren. I can't explain it."

And before I could stop myself, before I could think better of it, I surged forward and kissed him.

Cassian froze for half a second before he responded, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me against him. I pressed my hands on his rock-hard chest.

I slid my hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle, the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. Cassian's breath hitched, his grip on me tightening.

"Wren," he murmured against my lips, his voice strained.

I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to think. I didn't care if it was right or wrong.

But Cassian pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath coming fast. "We need to slow down."

I met his gaze, my own breath just as unsteady. "Do we?"

His fingers brushed against my jaw, a soft contrast to the heat between us. "Yes." He exhaled. "Because when I finally have you, Wren, I'm not stopping."

A shiver ran down my spine at the promise in his voice.

"I don't want you to stop, Cassian."

Seraphina already knew what pleasure felt like, a secret she shared with her mother’s old friend.
Now, that secret is always with her. When her mother moves in with a new fiancé, Seraphina has to go with them to his large house. But she does not expect to meet a charming stepbrother, who quietly watches over her. A dangerous sexy eyes that want her in ways she cannot ignore. Seraphina tries to forget her past, but her sexual hormones kept failing her. How long will she hold herself?.......Sexual emotion know no boundaries....

"Run, mi amor, run, while I watch."
"I feel his eyes everywhere, always watching!"
Ever heard of a hunter becoming the hunted?
That is what happened to Victoria Alexander.
After years of getting betrayed by her husband and best friend, Victoria returns to the city, stronger and more determined to ruin his seemingly happy home.
But things turns out sour for her as her mission for revenge turns into a game in a serial murder case.
While hunting her ex-husband's happiness and an unknown serial killer, Victoria suddenly becomes the hunted.
The thrilling part is that she isn't hunted by just anyone but a powerful shadow, hidden in the dark, watching. Always watching with nothing but a single phrase that leaves chills in her.

When Alexander Carter, the ruthless and irresistibly charming CEO of one of the country’s largest corporations, walked into my office, I thought he was there to terminate my contract. After all, I had just lost everything in a project sabotaged by his company. But instead, he made me an offer that would change my life: marry him for one year.

Sounds crazy? Maybe. But with my younger sister depending on me and the bills piling up, refusing wasn’t an option. In return, he offered enough money to rebuild my career and a contract to lead a project I had always dreamed of.

There was just one rule: don’t fall in love.

Simple, right? Or so I thought. Until I realized that behind his cold demeanor and flawless suits was a man full of secrets. A man who started to unravel me with every touch, every whispered word, every lingering glance.

Now, as I fight to keep up the façade of the perfect wife and uncover the conspiracies within his world, one question remains: when all this ends, will I be able to walk away unscathed?

After 3 years of bloody battles, the War King returns, only to hear his fiancée Elena “fell to her death”. But he finds she’s alive, pregnant, and imprisoned. He swears to slaughter all enemies and protect his woman and unborn child.

The multi-million-dollar deal I worked my ass off to win back was handed over by my boss to a clueless new hire who could barely even read the material codes. And that same rookie had the nerve to mock me in public, saying I was nothing but his errand girl.
My boss went even further, tore up every rule in the book, and shoved a termination agreement right at me.
I didn't argue. I didn't make a scene. I took the severance and walked away.
Because I knew one thing better than anyone: without me, they wouldn't even make it through the manufacturers' front doors.
Sure enough, just days after I left, the entire supply chain fell apart, and the company's cash flow completely collapsed.
And when they started scrambling in desperation, running all over New York begging investment executives to save them, they walked straight onto my mother's turf.

"Riccardo, please! I beg you!"
My water broke ten minutes ago. Warm liquid streamed down my legs and slowly froze into ice on the ground beneath me.
He stood on the other side of the bulletproof glass. In his eyes, there was not a trace left of the man I had once loved with all my heart.
In the Bellanona Mafia family, bloodline surpasses everything, and the hierarchy of age is an unyielding iron rule: the firstborn son shall inherit the entire underworld empire.
My sister-in-law Sofia and I were both pregnant, our due dates merely one day apart.
To make sure his elder brother’s child seized the succession right first, my husband coldly chose to sacrifice our own flesh and blood.
"My brother’s child must be born first." Riccardo’s voice came over the intercom, colder and more piercing than bitter winter wind. "This is what you owe them."
He had not only locked me inside this icy cellar. Just moments ago, his men pinned me down ruthlessly and injected a dose of medicine into my vein, solely to forcefully halt my labor.
Writhing in agony, I hugged my heavily pregnant belly tightly with both arms.
I could distinctly feel the little life inside me, once kicking and struggling relentlessly, growing fainter and fainter.
I’m sorry, my baby… Mommy is so sorry for you.

One month before the SATs, I saw my predicted score floating right above my head.
But every time I finished a practice test, the score automatically dropped by 20 points.
And if I skipped class to party for a day, it went up by 20 points.
In my past life, I partied for a whole month, and the score above my head reached a perfect 1600.
But when the results finally came out, I only scored a 400.
And my sister Seraphina got a 1600!
My father, Richard Vanderbilt, was absolutely furious.
My mother, Eleanor Vanderbilt, fueled the fire beside him.
She convinced my father to send me to a troubled teen boarding school.
They cut off my funds and threw me out of the mansion.
That very night, I was cornered by a group of street thugs in a dark alley and beaten to death.
As I lay dying, I heard Seraphina's voice.
"You always played the untouchable genius, Rhea. But you still got fooled by the score above your head."
That was when I finally realized the truth.
My SAT score had been completely controlled and siphoned by my sister.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to exactly one month before the exam.

My husband's first love was in trouble.
When the news came, I was lying on the operating table.
Dr. Miller put down his scalpel and said to Dr. Johnson, "I'll leave my wife's surgery to you."

"If I don’t go now, I might regret it for the rest of my life."

With that, he turned and walked away.
Watching my husband's retreating figure, I couldn't hold back—tears fell.
The next second, the cold blade of a scalpel touched my skin.

Dr. Johnson spoke calmly, "Why the tears? With me here, you'll be fine."

In my past life, I spent everything loving Ronald Wright, only to watch him chase after his first love and marry her in the end. I died alone and sick in a hospital, forgotten.

After being reborn, I gave up. On our wedding anniversary, I asked for a divorce. I walked away from being a full-time housewife and became the youngest rising star in the design world.

But something changed. The husband who once ignored me suddenly cared. He came home every day, afraid I might cheat on him.
I sneered, “One day, you’ll be the one begging for a divorce.” He laughed, “Keep dreaming.”

I waited for him to realize, just like in the past, that he still loved the other woman and would force me to leave, giving me millions in return.

But this time, he pulled me into his arms and said, “What’s money after a divorce? I’m worth billions. It’s all yours. But you—you’re mine.”

"You are like a father to me, I can't marry you."
"If you can't, then I guess you prefer to be an orphan if your mother dies."
Juliet Jones, was torned in between saving her mother's precious life, and getting into a contract marriage with her father's closest friend, George Watson.
And when she was left with no better choice, and the time is ticking faster on her mother, she got married to Mr George, to save her mother's life.
But unfortunately it was too late, and her mother died, after she had already signed a contract agreement with Mr George.

Emery’s undying love for her late mother drove her to do things only a desperate person could understand. To save her mother’s company, she agreed to marry a man twice her age. There’s no way she could escape the miserable truth, but on the day of the wedding, she married the wrong groom who turned out to be the wealthiest man in the country.
It’s like the Heavens gave her another chance and she won’t let the chance slip away. However, can she withstand the tension whenever her fake husband is near her? What if she falls for him? Will he catch her? Or she’d fall into a more complicated situation?


Every man's dream was to watch their bride walk down the aisle towards them, however, the beautiful dream turned into a nightmare when Terrence found a different woman under the veil. His bride ran away and he was forced to marry a stranger. To make everything more complicated, he just got appointed as the company President and he needs to maintain a good reputation.
Keeping his fake bride by his side is the only choice left to him. However, how can he deal with his self-control when the woman he mistakenly married is a total goddess of temptation?

Catherina Hanshaw Dalton has spent six years believing she lived a fairytale, married to billionaire Xavier Dalton, cherished by him, and building a life rooted in devotion, even amid one heartbreak she cannot control: their inability to have a child. Though Xavier assures her she is enough, Catherine senses his quiet disappointment, a wound deepened by the venomous hostility of his mother, Lydia Dalton. Lydia never misses a chance to insult Catherine’s infertility, idolize Xavier’s sister Mia and her children, or imply Xavier married beneath his status. Catherine endures it all, clinging to the one constant comfort, Xavier always defends her. Or so she believes.
This Christmas, however, Catherine’s dread of another humiliating Dalton family gathering turns into confusion. Lydia is gracious….kind, even. The manor is full of relatives, business partners, and esteemed guests, including Hunter Powell, Xavier’s ruthless business rival. The brief moment when Cathy’s eyes meet Hunter unsettles her, but nothing prepares her for Lydia’s “special Christmas gift.”
During the toast, Lydia presents Caroline Turner…a beautiful young woman who is allegedly four months pregnant through surrogacy…with Xavier’s child.

“You’re not dating anyone without my permission.”
Josh Evans has always been Eva’s biggest problem.
Not because he’s her brother’s best friend.
Not because he’s one of the most popular hockey players at school.
But because he’s been her crush for years—and the one guy her brother has made completely off-limits.
So when Josh finds out about the guy she’s been dating, he decides no one gets to date Eva without his approval.
For Eva, following the rule should be easy. She’s always known who she truly wants, even if she knows she can never have him.
But Josh has his own problem.
He knows Eva is off-limits. He knows she’s Peter’s little sister. He knows crossing that line could cost him his best friend.
So why does every guy she dates bother him?
Why does seeing her with someone else make him jealous?
And how long can he keep pretending his protectiveness is the only reason he can't stay away from her?

Marriage is meant to be a dream come true, but Isolde Conklin’s marriage is the complete opposite. Sold to a cruel Alpha by her parents, she endures three agonizing years of constant assault.

During one cold night, she’s had enough of the humiliation and constant harassment. So she does something insane—she kills her own husband.

Soaked in his blood, she runs as bullets fly over her head, but she’s eventually saved by Alpha Ryder of the Redblood pack.

But Ryder didn’t save her because he cares. He saved her because he wants to avenge his mother’s death. Now trapped in a pack full of secrets, enemies, and men who would do anything to claim her, Isolde must survive or risk losing everything…..including her life.

Noah, usually inseparable from his father, had spent the entire week insisting that only I take him camping. His declared mission: mastering "real survival skills"—a not-so-subtle jab at his dad's preference for cushy glamping.
Liam played along, hamming it up as he swung our son goodbye. But beneath the teasing jealousy, something felt off. He packed the trunk too fast. Checked the gas without being asked. Almost assembly-line efficiency.
And that line about a last-minute client flying in from Chicago? Didn't sound like bad luck. Sounded like an excuse.
All week, he never pushed back. Just quietly, almost eagerly, waited for us to leave.
I figured he wanted the house to himself: scotch, cigars, silence.
Then the call came—and I got it.
He hadn’t cleared the house for peace and quiet.
He’d cleared it for her.

At my boss's mother's funeral, I couldn't hold back my laughter, and as a result, I was treated as a lunatic, stuffed into a garbage cannon, and launched naked into an apocalyptic forest full of zombies. Everyone thought I was doomed, but they didn't know—I had been reborn 1,001 times. Unarmed and surrounded by the zombie horde, about to be torn to shreds, in desperation I clung to the last clue... When I finally uncovered the truth that could overturn everything, I laughed from the bottom of my heart. This time, I would personally end this greatest lie.

Betrayed and killed by the wolf king in my past life, I came back from hell. On the wedding day, I turned down his proposal without hesitation. I made a blood pact with his greatest enemy—the vampire king. Together, we avenged my child and family, and built a new future in the dark.

My daughter Lily was shot dead while she was performing on her own stage.
I rushed forward to shield her, and a speaker crashed down onto my right shoulder. The bone shattered.
My husband, Vincent, “shot the gunman dead” at once and sealed off the entire opera house.
When I woke up in the hospital room, the pain almost suffocated me. My right shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and when I tried to raise my arm, all I felt was a numb.
“…This isn’t what we agreed on.” The doctor’s voice was low and unsteady. “We only needed her blood sample for matching. Why did it have to go this far?”
“Lily’s blood type is a perfect match. This is the best possible outcome,” Vincent said. “I married Elena for this moment. I’ve been waiting for it.”
The doctor was silent for a few seconds. “But she’s your daughter… There’s no need to sacrifice a life, even if she is a Salaceno.”
Vincent cut him off. “You know how long an artificial heart can last. Camila’s daughter won’t hold out for long. I can’t put her through another surgery.”
“Camila’s child is the one I should cherish.”
At that moment, my blood ran cold. In his eyes, my daughter was nothing but an organ container.
He had no idea. All that talk about protecting his precious daughter—she wasn't even his.

I bought a handsome, aloof incubus from a clearance sale online to be my live-in maid.
For a week, he was perfect. Then he started fainting, his skin burning with a fever no amount of rest could fix. Panicked that I’d somehow overworked my best employee, I called the 24/7 Aphrodisiac (companyI bought him from) helpline.

Ma’am, our incubus models have a demonic lineage and you have got a high-output model. They have near-infinite stamina. They don't get 'feverish' from vacuuming. But... why did you have him doing 'housework'?"
"Because the house was dirty?"
The agent suddenly chuckled. "Ah, I see. Everyone has their own fantasies and kinks. Roleplay is very popular. But tell me, according to the log, when was the last time Xanthos received physical intimacy?"
"Huh?"
"Physical intimacy," the agent repeated. "Love, spoiling, skin-to-skin contact. If a male incubus doesn't get intimacy, his internal energy stagnates. They fall sick. Male models are much higher maintenance than females; they need constant affection to stay healthy."
My blood ran cold. "Affection? I bought him to mop the floors!"
"Ma'am," the agent's voice dropped. "You are on Aphrodisiac. We are the world's leading provider of supernatural escorts. Did you... did you not read the site description?"

Turns out, I hadn’t bought a demonic domestic servant.
I’d accidentally purchased a high-maintenance supernatural escort.
And apparently, if I didn’t start showing my “maid” some affection soon, he would die and I would be jailed for abusing my maid.

To help his life-saving benefactor, he personally pressed a pregnant me on the operating table to draw bone marrow.
I cried and begged him, "James, I'm pregnant. It's your child. Don't do this to me..."
But he had a look of disgust in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you'd lie about something like that just to get out of helping Mandy?"
Until there was a river of blood in the operating room and that unformed child turned into a pool of bloody water, he finally panicked.
Later, when he knew that the person who saved him in the fire ten years ago was actually me, he held my ashes and knelt outside the operating room for a full three days.

My adopted sister, Cordelia, conspired with her biological mother to harvest my organs alive, yet she had the audacity to claim I paid thugs to rape her.
My biological parents didn't bother to ask for the truth. They cursed me, calling me a vicious bastard, and threatened to break my legs.
My fiancé, Caspian, coldly announced the cancellation of our engagement, declaring he would marry the very murderer who killed me.
I had been dead for exactly three days. No one cared. My body was rotting back in a moldy storage room.
Through it all, my soul was trapped in the manor, forced to witness this absurd farce.
But what they didn't expect was that when they finally learned of my death—
Everyone went completely insane.

At the engagement party, Julian tore up our agreement on the spot, selling me for a single dollar to Callum, a man rumored to be a bloodthirsty, crippled psychopath.

Our mutual friend frowned.

"Are you out of your mind? Sylvia stayed by your side through your hardest three years, and you're really going to send her off to be tortured by a freak like Callum?"

Julian casually swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"It's just a little punishment. Rosie is carrying my child and needs a title, but Sylvia is too damn proud. Not only did she refuse to step down, but she also upset Rosie and affected her pregnancy."

"Callum is a twisted cripple. Give it three hours, and she'll break down completely. By then, she'll obediently accept Rosie's existence and even willingly stay as my hidden mistress."

The friend looked at my retreating back and couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you afraid you'll push her too far, that she'd rather stay with that psycho than come back to you?"

Julian let out a light scoff.

"Absolutely impossible. She loves me so much she'd give her life for me. Even if she takes a trip to hell, she'll only beg me to be her savior."

I picked up that one-dollar coin from the floor, without a single tear or tantrum.

Later, Julian broke into Callum's estate like a madman, begging me to go back with him.

But the disabled man from the rumors simply stood up, pulled me securely behind him, and sneered, "My wife. Is she someone you are even fit to touch?"

For the top university in the North American wolf packs, transfer students aren't exactly breaking news. But this one sets the entire forum on fire.

It starts with a photo. A girl standing next to a tall, imposing man. Both faces are deliberately blurred, but that build, that presence... every wolf in North America recognizes it. The Alpha King. The caption reads: "Dad why'd you send me this 😭 I'm not ready to go public yet."

Minutes later, the post vanishes. But screenshots flood the forum.

"Moon Goddess above! Is that really the Alpha King?"

"The girl in the photo... could she be the royal princess no one's ever seen?"

The comments explode. Compliments flood in. Even my aloof boyfriend joins in.

Something feels off. I type out a comment: "The Alpha King keeps a low profile. His daughter should do the same. Posting photos like this... doesn't seem right."

Less than a minute later, the replies come.

"Who do you think you are to question her?"

"Can't stand seeing someone else do well, huh?"

My boyfriend chimes in too: "Quit it. You're embarrassing yourself."

I pick up my phone and dial a number. "Dad, since when do you have another daughter?"

I was their real daughter.

The lost princess they found, brought home, and promised to protect.

But every time she cried, I was the one punished.

Every time she bled, I was the one accused.

When she disappeared, they said it was my fault. They tore my memories apart to prove it.

Fine , only if they stand where I stood, feel what I felt, will they ever know my pain.

To give my daughter, Lily, a childhood connected to nature, I put on worn-out overalls and carved out a small vegetable patch at the edge of the estate.
That was until today, when a vicious dog lunged without warning, sinking its teeth into Lily's calf. Blood instantly stained the dirt.
I threw myself over my daughter like a madwoman to protect her, only to be viciously whipped across the face with a diamond-studded leash.
"Where did this lowly gardener come from! You hurt my dog—can your two worthless lives afford to pay for it?"
A young woman in a haute couture white dress, her pregnant belly protruding, sneered and waved her hand. "Where is security? Beat this crazy, pathetic woman and her little thief of a bastard to death, and throw them out of the estate!"
Holding my convulsing daughter, I said, "Beat us to death? Have you asked the master of the estate?"
The woman giggled coquettishly.
"My boyfriend is the master of this estate! With just one word from him, he could crush you like an ant!"
What a coincidence.
The "masters of the estate" she spoke of... I know them both.
One is my husband.
And the other... is my son.

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

Evelyn Mitchell died at the hands of betrayal, pushed off a cliff by the very people she trusted most. But fate gives her a second chance. She wakes up three months before her tragic end, armed with the truth and a heart full of vengeance.

In her past life, Evelyn was blind to deception. She lost her family, her future, and the man who loved her most—Alexander Gray, the cold and powerful heir who jumped with her into death. This time, she's done playing the fool.

Reborn as the fierce and fearless heiress of the Mitchell family, Evelyn is ready to destroy her bestie who stabbed her in the back and crush the scumbag she once loved. But when it comes to Alexander, things are different. She's not running anymore. She's chasing him.

Everyone in the capital fears Alexander's icy heart, but only Evelyn knows the fire he hides beneath. Revenge is sweet—but love might be even sweeter.

“You’re dripping,” he groaned. “You hear that? You’re making a mess all over me.”


He's the school's willful billionaire bad boy— hot, tall, handsome who made her fall and loosen herself for him just to find out it was all a lie.

A bet.

Well, two can dance a tango, right?

A comeback is all she needs. One that would make the so-called dangerous bad boy fall to his knees.

It wasn't just a game to him.

What if there's something more…

A facade he's hiding behind?

WARNING: Contains strong vulgar languages, sexual scenes, erotic contents, triggering situations, and lots more.

When Iris went to prison for her boyfriend, she discovered that he was about to marry Alpha's daughter.
It turned out that he had been using her all along and then abandoned her...
Iris fell into despair, but unexpectedly, she crossed paths with Marcus, Alpha's son and her former patient.
She became her ex's brother-in-law's wedding companion?! The most notorious playboy in the Pack?

“Don’t move.” His voice is low, commanding, and my body obeys before my mind can even process it.
I'm pressed against the cold marble wall of the palace, his hands traces my thigh, my body heated up in desire or fear, I can’t tell.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, pressing his hardened cock against my pulsing center,
“Tell me you crave me Aria,” his lips brushes my ears.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you till the entire of Olympus hear you moan my name.” he nibbles on my ear.
I bite back a gasp, because yes, I want him. I want him in ways I shouldn't, in ways that terrify me.

Aria Hale was never meant for the underworld and she hated the king of the underworld more than anything.
After Aria is betrayed by her sister and fiance, She finds herself in the underworld and soul-bound to Hades… the god of death, danger and impossible desire. He's commanding, possessive and devastatingly handsome, with powers that makes her ache and his dominance that ignites a sudden fire inside of her that she can’t seem to control.
Although enemies at first sight, they are forced into a marriage that pushes her limit and in turn she challenges the control of Hades. In those stolen electric moments, their desire becomes impossible to resist.
But Aria is not done. Thrust back into earth by a mysterious shadow that she strikes a blood oath with. She comes back to earth for revenge against those who betrayed her and stop their plans before it happens.
But the underworld is bubbling and she is more dangerous than Hades expected….Far more dangerous.
Will Aria give into the passionate love between her and Hades or will she risk everything for her revenge and power?

"Don't test me, Stone; your family has always thought that it was untouchable... Felt on top of the world, didn't you? You didn't care about who you needed to stomp down to get there?"

His fingers hung dangerously over the trigger; I shook as far as my binds would let me, tears rolling down to the gag in my mouth… that muffled my cries.

But even as I had the gun pointed at my head, my husband was not looking at me; his eyes were purely placed on Liliana.

“Talk to me, you bastard!.. You have to choose between your wife or your first love.”

On her wedding day, Aurora chased after her runaway groom who went to console his first love, only to be kidnapped along with that woman and tortured for 3 days straight until she was met with the ultimate pain; her fiancée, who she thought would turn to her forever, choosing another woman over her and not only that but confessing that his first love was carrying his child too. Just like she was, except he would never find out. At least not in that life; she took a bullet to the head and was reborn on the day of her wedding. When he runs off to meet his first love and console her again, she doesn't foolishly chase after him; rather, she walks towards his brother, the most desirable bachelor in the city, and says, “Will you marry me instead?"

Mandy's emotions ignite when she meets Jason, her brother-in-law. Amid a whirlwind of feelings, she finds herself trapped in an emotional dilemma, forced to choose between love and the burning desire that consumes her.

In his past life, Ethan was thrown straight to the flesh-eating horde by his bitter rival, Ryan.
Reborn days before the outbreak, he liquidates every asset he owns to build an impenetrable fortress—trading useless paper wealth for heavy steel plates, industrial deadbolts, and hard inventory numbers.
Ten days later, hell opens up, and the suburbs turn into a lawless, blood-soaked meat grinder.
Then comes a frantic knock on his heavy security door.
It’s Mara—Ryan’s drop-dead gorgeous, curvaceous wife—soaked to the bone, desperate, and begging for shelter.
Behind his wall of monitors, Ethan looks down at the security feed with absolute, icy detachment.
"My fortress. My rules. Out here, I call the shots."

On the morning before Christmas Eve, I was polishing my shoes in my apartment, preparing to meet my girlfriend Camilla's parents, who lived in the uptown, the next day to discuss marriage.
Through years of hard work, I finally bought a house in the city.
I suddenly had a splitting headache, and a blue system interface appeared on my retina, telling me that the sea level would rise by 8,000 meters in 24 hours and that a deep-sea mutated tide would submerge the world.
To survive, I must get 10 people to each transfer $ 5,000 to me before the countdown ends , and I will receive an asylum spot for each transfer I receive.

Eight years ago, I was the heir to a powerful dynasty—the man set to inherit an empire.

On the way home from a business deal, our convoy was ambushed and I was taken. My fiancée arrived with the ransom, and the kidnappers gave her a choice: save one man. She saved my closest friend—and left me bleeding in the ruins.

They thought I was dead. They went on camera, announced my “tragic death,” took my company, split my legacy, and lived on my name for eight long years.

But I didn’t die. A gray-zone mercenary unit pulled me out of a pile of bodies. I changed my name and climbed from the bottom of their world—training, bleeding, killing, leading—until I became one of their commanders.

Today, my fiancée is marrying my best friend. The invitation arrived with my name on it. I board a first-class flight under a new identity and head straight for their wedding.

Halfway through the ceremony, the priest asks if anyone objects.

I stand up. “I object.”

I didn’t come back to give my blessing. I came back to collect.

To win a smile from my icy wife, I stood for four hours in a London blizzard, only to be greeted by her returning hand-in-hand with her childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from abroad.

For three years of marriage, I had concealed all my sharp edges, solely to warm her heart.
Until company secrets were leaked, and she unquestioningly believed her childhood sweetheart's framing, locking me, who suffered from severe claustrophobia, in a dark, abandoned wine cellar for a full forty-eight hours.

Watching her arrogantly slam the "Clean Break Agreement" onto my bleeding face, I smiled.
The moment I signed my name, the humble Arthur who loved her died utterly in the abyss.

That night, my yacht ran aground and exploded.
And the first heir of the Vance conglomerate, missing for three years, officially took control of the global technology lifeline.

Six months later, betrayed and facing bankruptcy, she clung to my trousers like a dead dog on the red carpet of a top-tier banquet, weeping and begging me to start over.
I was arm in arm with a true socialite, and I didn't even lift an eyelid as I looked at the woman covered in mud on the floor:
"Security, throw this crazy woman who's dirtied the carpet away. Don't spoil my fun."

For four years, I tolerated Grayson’s blatant favoritism. He spoiled my roommate Mia with exquisite breakfasts every day, while leaving me with plain biscuits and bitter black coffee. I swallowed every unfair slight, hoping for true love. Yet he finally humiliated me thoroughly by choosing Mia over me for the elite corporate event, sneering that I was unworthy of high society. Hiding my identity as the university’s secret heiress, I stopped my father from ruining his career on impulse. I will let them attend the glamorous party—not out of mercy, but to deliver my quiet, devastating revenge. Now I only need time to decide my next move, and whether to accept my arranged engagement.

My name is Megan, and I am the Queen of the Star Fae.
Sixteen years ago, I left my Mate — Orlando, Alpha of the Darkmoon Pack — and the daughter we had just brought into the world, to hold back an invasion of Abyssal demons.
Sixteen years of war in the Void — and at last, the Abyss was sealed.
I came home crowned in glory, my mastery over the Source of Starlight absolute. I expected my husband's arms and my daughter's smile waiting for me.
I never imagined that setting foot on Darkmoon land again would mean no flowers, no cheering — only the sound of my own child screaming for help from inside a filthy dungeon.

I thought I'd signed up for an immersive dating show.

Turns out it was a 99.9% death rate, globally livestreamed horror game.

And me? Half-blind without my contacts, desperate to go viral, I somehow talk my way through a death game like it's a romance.

I mistook blood for ketchup, human eyeballs for sashimi, a murderous child ghost for a kid who just needed some love.

Worst part? I fell for the guy running the place, the one who could kill you without blinking, and tried to get his number within the hour.

My teammate hissed at me, shaking. "You wanna die, fine, just don't take us with you!"

I just waved him off. It's a dating show. Relax.

They told me the baby was gone, but they didn't tell me my heart was being carved out, too.

I woke up on the operating table, paralyzed. Through my blurred vision, I saw my beloved husband, Marco, trembling with excitement as he held my medical chart.

"Her blood is perfect," he whispered. "It is a perfect match for Isabella. We can proceed with the transplant now."

"Finally. It wasn't in vain that I brought her back." My revered father let out a sigh of relief. "If it weren't for this day, how would someone who wandered outside for so many years be qualified to step into this house again?"

When my husband said "I love you," he actually meant "Your heart is perfect for the woman I truly love."

I couldn't scream; I couldn't move.

I could only watch helplessly as the silver scalpel pierced toward my chest, while my sister, Isabella, lay on the operating table next to me, smiling in her sleep.

I was never a long-lost daughter, nor was I a beloved wife.

I was just a mobile blood bank waiting to be slaughtered.