9031 Book(s) Related to the dark moon s chosen mate

47 deaths.
48 iterations.
He sold his brother a death trap and called it a farm.
When the dead rose, the experiment began—and the only way out was through.

"If I didn't have to bring you home, Chloe wouldn't have died. Eve... I regret everything."

Those were my fiancé Lucas's final words as we lay dying beneath the crushed concrete.

I blinked, and suddenly my lungs were full of air.

I had returned to the exact day my billionaire biological family came to claim me.

I stared at their forced, plastic smiles.
I watched the imposter daughter eyeing me like a threat.
Without a second thought, I ripped the paternity test in half.

I didn't want their money.
Instead, I walked away and joined the FBI's deadliest bomb squad.

If I was your biggest regret, fine.
This time around, I'll make sure I'm completely erased from your world.

But when a blast finally reduced me to ash in a blinding flash of fire...

The very family who once treated me like dirt tore through the police tape.
They were clawing desperately at the blazing ruins with bare, bleeding hands.
Screaming my name, begging my ashes to come back to life.

I met my future husband from thirty years later in a late-night diner. He knows every hidden habit and secret of mine. Mistaking the star quarterback for my destined love, I endured endless ambiguity and humiliation from him and his stepsister. But when he abandoned me in front of the whole school, I finally learned the truth — the man meant to love me for a lifetime was never him.

"$500,000 for her virginity."

That was the winning bid my fiancé just placed. The item? His female best friend.

"Don't be so petty, Sylvie," he laughed, pulling her close in front of the whole gala. "I'm just saving her from some old creep. We’re basically bros."

She giggled against his chest. "Yeah, don't be a buzzkill, honey."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply smiled and raised my glass. "I won't."

I let him think he got away with it. Over the next month, I secretly sold our marital home and took a one-way flight to Paris.

Everett didn't realize I was gone until our wedding day, standing alone at the altar, watching the video I sent him.

"You're too brilliant, Lyra. It makes me sick. I had to ruin MIT for you, just so you'd never leave me."

I died in a puddle of my own blood on a rainy night, watching the boy I’d known for eighteen years walk away with Alice, the varsity cheerleader. No ambulance. Just taillights disappearing into the dark.

But instead of fading to black, I blink and find myself staring at my Common App dashboard. Three hours left until submission closes.

The MIT Aerospace Engineering major I bled for is gone, secretly replaced by some trash-tier community college. This time, I don’t scream or throw a fit. I just fix the application and hit save.

Keep that garbage school, Will. Let's see if they still accept you from behind bars.

I made Joren Calder an Alpha.
I took the weakest of Rohan Calder’s sons—the one nobody bet on—and built him a throne on the backs of the Prehnite Pack, simply because the Moon Goddess bound him to me.
On the night of his Ascension, he humiliated me by choosing an omega named Myrna Croft. When I exposed her as a rogue spy, she drank wolfsbane rather than face justice. Joren had smiled at me across the hall and said, "Good thing you caught it in time."
Ten years later, he accused me of treason. He had my wolf torn from me, chained me to a stake with silver, and burned me alive. Then he poisoned the Prehnite wells with wolfsbane. Five thousand wolves. Not one survived.
When I opened my eyes, the smoke of my execution was gone, replaced by the suffocating scent of roasted meat and spilled wine.
It was the night of his Ascension. Again.
This time, let’s see if he and his omega get their happily ever after.

Oak Creek thinks my brother, Cole, is a saint. He saved the family legacy and adopted the orphaned daughter of a killer out of the goodness of his heart.
What they don’t know is the price of his halo: Me.
To keep his 'good guy' image, he sacrificed his real sister. He gave her my bed, my home, and my parents.
When I was driven out of town, sleeping in a vandalized trailer, he left me a note: Come home and apologize.
I did come back. But not to apologize.
I'm holding the microphone at the town's biggest festival, looking down at the two thousand people who threw trash at me.
I have a stack of receipts, an unedited tape, and the truth about how my parents really died.
Are you ready to meet the real Hale family?

I knew my "clinically asexual" husband was obsessed with his young apprentice the night I caught him touching himself to her photo.

When her reckless surgical stunt left my mother paralyzed, I gave him a ruthless ultimatum: put her in prison, or I file for divorce.

He handed over the evidence, and for three years, he played the perfect, devoted husband.

Until tonight. I sneaked into his elite medical gala to surprise him with my pregnancy, only to stop dead in my tracks.

Standing on the lit podium, proudly holding a trophy, was the woman who was supposed to be rotting in a prison cell.

Five years ago, on our wedding day, my fiancée Vivian was in the bridal suite fucking my best man.
Five years later, I returned to New York with my wife—the most powerful Mafia matriarch in Naples. At Atelier Milano, Brandon, the same "best man" who betrayed me, fawned over my custom-tailored suit, groveling to the staff about how desperately he wanted to meet the legendary Mr. Salvatore.
He had no idea...
The man he'd once written off as a pathetic loser was the very person he was now begging to impress.

In this house, there was an unspoken rule: every time my adopted sister, Sloane, fed her gambling addiction at the casino, I was the one who had to take the punishment.

When Sloane racked up five thousand dollars in gambling debt, I was locked inside a sub-zero freezer overnight.

When Sloane stole and sold the family jewelry, my parents pinned my shoulders down while my husband ruined my face with a red-hot branding iron.

They claimed that only by seeing me suffer would Sloane feel guilty enough to finally quit gambling.

Until, in a desperate attempt to teach Sloane one final lesson, they hired someone to stage a fake mobster debt collection.

What they didn't know was that the prop gun bought off the black market was loaded with a real bullet.

And as the bullet ripped through my heart, my husband simply kicked my twitching body, laughing as he complimented how realistic my blood pack looked.

Warm blood clogged my windpipe. I lay paralyzed on the floor, my consciousness fading away.

This time, the chip wagered on Sloane's behalf was my life.

I married a rapist.
After the wedding, I played the perfect wife. I always took off my makeup after he fell asleep, and reapplied it before he woke up.
My husband loved showing off on his livestream, bragging that women should know their place.
One viewer sent a warning in the chat:
[Run, man. Only vengeful spirits do their makeup in the middle of the night—when their resentment is strongest, the makeup lasts longer!]
I covered my face and grinned wickedly.
Oops, forgot concealer. My corpse marks are showing.

The day after Lucian was titled Duke, he locked down the estate to find the woman who climbed into his bed.
In my first life, I claimed the honor. He grabbed my hand and sneered, "That woman has a scar."
I froze to death in the ice cellar.
In my second life, Martha slashed her own hand and stepped forward. He ripped her collar open. "She has a cross tattoo on her chest. Do you?"
His hounds tore her throat out in the snow.
Now we're in our third life. The Duke just issued a three-day ultimatum, dead certain that the woman is hiding in the Duchess's wing.
Martha and I stared at each other. We're the only two maids serving the Duchess.

I ripped out half my heart for him.

Literally.

Six years ago, Draco—the Black Dragon Lord—was dying on the battlefield, enemy claws buried in his chest. So I tore myself open and shoved half my witch's heart into his body to save his life.

After that, I lived with constant pain, my magic drained to nothing. I fought his wars, nearly died a dozen times, all while waiting for him to keep his promise—that he'd make me his queen after the coronation.

But on coronation day, Draco brought back the half-elf Ivy and told me to give up my crown.

Why? Ivy stayed with him in the Abyss for three years. And now she was pregnant with his child.

It destroyed me. So I drank the Oblivion Potion—the one thing that could strip away every ounce of love I had for him.

And in three days, I'm leaving for the polar regions to marry into the Silver Wolf Clan.

The adoptive brother I'd been secretly in love with for a decade took my virginity on the night of my twentieth birthday, fueled by alcohol.

I thought I had finally found love.

Until I stood outside his half-open apartment door and heard his teammates mocking me.

"Damn, Dax, you actually slept with Elara? That boring good girl?"

My hand froze mid-air above the doorknob.

Dax's tone was dripping with contempt. "Look closely at her face. It's exactly like Cassandra's, isn't it?"

"It's no big deal. She revolves around me every single day. All it took was crooking a finger."

"With Cassandra gone, she's the perfect stand-in to kill time."

The room instantly erupted into a fit of unbridled, mocking laughter.

I dug my nails fiercely into my palms, opened my phone, and found the email I had deliberately ignored for a month.

[Florence Academy of Fine Arts — Exchange Program Confirmation]

My parents ruined my wedding six times.

Every single time, right at the moment the ring was about to slip onto my finger—the first time, Mom knocked over the champagne tower. The second time, Dad drove his pickup truck straight through the floral arch... Either the groom wasn't good enough, or the wedding was too cheap. Each time was more batshit crazy than the last. The sixth time, Mom even held a knife to her own throat, threatening me not to put on the ring.

It made no sense to me—why push me to get married while doing everything to stop me from wearing that ring?

So for the seventh wedding, I chose a small chapel in a remote mountain area, went completely off-grid, dead certain they'd never track me down.

Just as Ethan was about to slide the ring onto my finger—

The chapel doors burst open.

Two figures stumbled in, gasping for air, faces streaked with tears.

My parents.

On our seventh anniversary, Jeffrey brought his mistress home for dinner.

Calla wore my dead mother's necklace and called me a "boring housewife" while I cooked for them. Jeffrey laughed, saying I was lucky he kept me around since I'd never contributed anything to our marriage.

What he didn't know? I'd given up my six-figure tech career to nurse him back from his car accident. Sacrificed everything while he treated me like his personal servant.

For seven years, I endured his cheating and cruelty, thinking love meant sacrifice.

I was wrong.

When I left him the divorce papers, Jeffrey screamed that I'd come crawling back within a week.

But when I never came back, he was the one who lost his mind.

In my last life, Natalie insisted on stepping out of the car to feed a wild grizzly.

I tried to stop her. Daniel shoved me into the bear's path instead — to save her.

The grizzly's teeth tore through my throat. My blood sprayed hot across the snow.

And there was Daniel, my boyfriend of three years, holding Natalie close. Not a scratch on her.

He even raised his phone to film me being ripped apart, then posted it on TikTok with the caption: "She gave her life to protect us." The donations poured in for weeks.

Now my eyes are open again. Natalie's pushing the car door open, sandwich in hand, ready to hand-feed the cubs.

This time, I don't scream. I don't stop her.

I just watch her lean halfway out the door — and lock it behind her.

My husband locked our fouryearold son in a 20°C wine cellar for his mistress. Our boy froze to death.
Lawyers silenced me. I was cast aside.
Three years later, I returned.
At a glittering New York gala, I tore apart every lie Liam and Mia had built. Liam begged for my forgiveness—but I had a solid anchor by my side, and I would never forgive him.

At the charity gala, one of Lucien’s men, eager to curry favor, led in ninety-nine women. Every one of them looked a little like me—the eyes, the hair, even the figure.
“Mrs. Sterling’s health is delicate, and she can’t carry a child. These girls are all built for babies. Let them have yours, and Mrs. Sterling can raise them.”
Lucien pulled me against his side and spoke to the whole room, in a voice that left no room for argument.
“Elena is the only woman I will ever love. I won’t lay a finger on anyone else.”
For the next seven years, I poured more of the Lorenzo family’s resources into him than I could count. I got blood on my hands more than once. And I made sure his seat as CEO of Sterling Group never so much as wobbled.
Then, in the seventh year, a fair-skinned, full-figured woman knocked on my door with seven little boys in tow.
I recognized her. Out of those ninety-nine women, she was the one who looked the most like me.
Right there in front of me, she pulled up her top and nursed the youngest, looking very pleased with herself.
“Seven years, seven sons for Mr. Sterling. He says the stock price keeps climbing because my little lucky charms brought Sterling Group good fortune.
“You’re a hen that can’t even lay an egg. What makes you think you get to be Mrs. Sterling?”
I lit a menthol cigarette, looked her over from head to toe, and had her shipped off to a black-market auction.

At my seventh wedding, they replaced me.

The Oracle pointed at me and screamed one word: "CURSED."

Father's hand cracked across my face. Mother tore the wedding dress off my body and shoved my cousin Seraphine into it.

"She'll marry him instead," Father said. "You'll destroy us all."

What they didn't know? A thousand years ago, our family made a blood pact with the Shadow Lord himself: if the eldest Ashford daughter remained unmarried on her twenty-sixth birthday, she belonged to HIM.

Today was my twenty-sixth birthday.

I begged Julian to run. "Please. We have until sunset."

He laughed. "The Shadow Lord's a fairy tale, Anna. Seraphine's just going through the motions. You're being dramatic."

Then he told my parents everything.

They locked me in the tower.

But the Shadow High Priest's warning was clear—at sunset, the Shadow Lord would come. And when he did, I'd drink the Potion of Forgetting and lose everything.

My memories. My name. My soul.

The clock struck five.

He was coming.

My fiancé was going to humiliate me at our own wedding.

I know because I heard him think it.

I'm Isabella Rossi — mafia heiress, future bride to Lorenzo Falcone, the golden boy of New York's underworld. Our marriage was supposed to unite two empires.

I also have a secret. I can read minds. But only when people want to use me, hurt me, or destroy me.

Lorenzo's thoughts had been silent for three years. I thought that meant he loved me.

The night before the wedding, I finally heard him. The mistress he'd planted in the crowd. The fake pregnancy reveal. The plan to humiliate me at the altar so he could play the victim — and steal my family's power in the chaos.

Landon Rhodes and I grew up together, both dreaming of becoming top chefs. But I knew he was the one with a palate kissed by God.

So when Rowan Stone, this street-rat punk, got her claws into him, I took the drinks, the smoke, the slaps for him. When he wanted to skip the National Young Chefs Competition to stay with her drunk ass, I dragged him back to the culinary lab.

He won the championship, got recruited by a three-star Michelin restaurant, graduated and made millions. I became the most invisible prep cook in his kitchen.

Until Rowan wrapped her car around a pole during one of her episodes, and he lured me into a basement.

"This is all your fault! If you'd minded your own damn business, she'd still be alive!"

His foot came down on my right hand. Bones cracking. My fingers ground to pulp.

All those 5 AM trips to the fish market for him. All those nights watching stock simmer for forty-eight hours straight. All the praise he soaked up at final practicals. My sacrifices, and all I got in return was his hatred.

"These worthless hands that can only cut vegetables deserve to rot in the ground with her."

The pain swallowed me whole.

When I wake up again, I'm back to that afternoon when he said he was going to the bar to find her.

This time, I won't stop him.

At seven years old, he pulled me from the rapids—and for the eleven years that followed, I loved this man I called "Uncle."

Then Sophia appeared. She accused me of pushing her down the stairs, and Michael didn't spare me so much as a glance before throwing me out into the storm. I knocked until my hands were raw and bleeding. He never opened the door.

Three years later, he showed up at my workplace, demanding I "come home" with him. His pregnant girlfriend flaunted a twelve-week ultrasound, cooing about how the baby already "looked just like him"—then staged yet another fall, told yet another lie, let out yet another shriek, casting me once more as the heartless monster.

But this time, I won't beg.

This time, I know secrets they don't.

Because that miscarriage three years ago? That baby? That ultrasound?

None of it was real.

The question is—how much has Michael already lost, and can he see the truth before the one person who ever truly loved him is gone for good?

That was supposed to be one of the most anticipated days of my life—the wedding of my best friend, Sarah.
But when I put on my bridesmaid dress, she called me a bitch.
"Get out." Sarah looked at me like I was trash.
"I don't want to see you at my wedding."
I stood frozen in place, staring down at the broken Cartier bracelet she had given me, now lying scattered on the floor.

When I ended up in the hospital, Declan was in the middle of giving me the silent treatment over his ex-girlfriend.

At the height of our worst fight, he’d looked down at me, his voice thick with contempt:

“Nora, if I actually wanted something to happen with Serena, you wouldn’t even be wearing that ring right now.”

After that, I became extremely “understanding.”

I stopped checking up on him. I stopped asking questions. I couldn’t even be bothered to notice the perfume on his clothes.

Declan seemed to sense something unsettling in that dead calm.

Out of some belated urge to make amends, he started trying to smooth things over.

On my birthday, he walked away from a merger at his European branch and took a red-eye back to New York.

He even set up a birthday surprise for me in that cold penthouse of ours, just the two of us.

But all I felt was awkward. Cornered. Suffocated.

I couldn’t help ducking behind the kitchen island to send my best friend a voice memo.

“We’re about to get divorced. Why is he even bothering with all this?”

She laughed. “Sure, he’s a total jerk. But he’s the richest jerk in Manhattan. Are you really sure about this? You’re giving up a black card with no limit. You won’t regret it?”

I thought about it, then said, “We’re not right for each other. If we actually get divorced, all I’ll feel is relief.”

Behind me came the dull clink of glass against glass.

I spun around. Declan was standing a few feet away, and the color was slowly draining from his face.

I was a scholarship student with thirty extra pounds. Del Ashford had two hundred thousand followers and her family's supplement brand on every wall of the athletic center. First week of school, she decided we were going to be best friends.
She said she wanted to help me get in shape. What that actually looked like: I carried her product shipments up three flights of stairs, drafted her emails, and picked up her lunch from the place across campus that didn't deliver.
My roommates started calling me her errand girl behind my back. I let them.
She also introduced me to Beckett Hale. After that, things went the way they went.
She knocked my protein shake over and said I'd burned her. She planted her limited-edition earphones in my bag and told everyone I'd stolen them. The school opened a conduct review. My roommates stopped talking to me.

Beckett said I was the kind of girl who got a little attention and started thinking she deserved more of it.
I couldn't prove any of it. By spring, I was gone.
Some people just aren't built for this, Wren. You know that, right?
Del hadn't even been looking at me when she said it.
Then I opened my eyes and I was back at the party. The night she introduced me to Beckett.

After the apocalypse began, my husband's female assistant stole my viral experiment data for the ninth time. I couldn't take it anymore and confronted her publicly.
My husband said I was just jealous of her, punished me by making me apologize to her in front of everyone, and demoted me.
Later, he sweet-talked me, promising compensation.
The next day, his true love showed up at the lab wearing his family heirloom necklace.
"François felt so bad about me being falsely accused yesterday that he gave me his family necklace."
"I heard this necklace is supposed to go to his wife. Oh, Andrea, you're not mad, are you?"
I just smiled. "Not mad at all. Trash belongs with trash—you two are perfect for each other."
François immediately snapped, "It's just a necklace. No need to be so nasty about it."
"Apologize to Caro right now, or I'll kick you out of the lab and divorce you!"
Watching François defend Caro, I didn't get angry at all.
Once I'm gone, his zombie virus research won't get anywhere.

I was once “The BOSS’ wife” of the Moscato family of the Paris Mafia, the one everyone addressed with fear as Donna. Until that night, when iron lamps roared in the warehouse and scalding oil rolled—my own younger brother was hung over a vat of boiling oil, and my husband, the cold-faced Don Lydon, pushed me into hell with one sentence: “Have you learned your lesson?”
More absurd still, the two sons I had raised with my own hands stood by, helping his first love, Agnes, testify against me. In that instant I understood: my marriage, my family affection, my kindness—they had stomped all of it into the oil and fried it to shreds.
I was suppressed when I called the police, refused when I begged for a doctor, mocked when I sought a divorce—yet I still slapped the divorce certificate down on his coffee table: I’m leaving. I don’t want any of you.

My name is Daisy Webster. Eight years ago, I witnessed my sister being pushed down the stairs, and the murderer was the man I once loved Eric Lawsky.

“Daisy Webster, either you sign this agreement and care for Peter Lawsky without any compensation for eight years, or he will be sent to an orphanage.”

I trembled as I signed my name on the agreement, not knowing that this was a cruel trap.

I became the free nanny for the Lawsky family, and the “nephew” I cared for with all my heart was not even my sister’s child.

Today, the eight-year agreement expires.

As I left the Lawsky family mansion with my luggage and got into the discreet Rolls-Royce, no one knew that the “Nyx,” the name that made countless financial tycoons tremble, was me.

The revenge has just begun.

After being forced to inherit two family lines, Alpha Lucas gave me his love but dedicated his person to Bianca, the Luna of his late brother Ross.
He claimed the eldest sister-in-law must not bear the stigma of "killing her husband," so he pretended the deceased Ross still "accompanied" Bianca.
Thereafter, fearing to upset Bianca, he only slept with me three times a month.
I was his true Luna, yet I became the "despicable she-wolf" in everyone’s eyes for "stealing" Bianca’s man.
My own son, Noah, disgustedly declared I was unworthy to be his mother, then smiled and rushed into Bianca’s arms as she clung to Lucas.
I died of sheer rage.
When I woke, I’d returned to the year Lucas first "gifted" Noah to Bianca.
This time, I severed our bond decisively and formed a pact with Charles, the most eminent Alpha in the Northern Territory.

I was only two months pregnant when Alpha Neil ordered me to donate blood to his childhood sweetheart, the Omega Fawn.
“Kay, just a small extraction. Our pup… isn’t as fragile as you think.”

But the truth was, before my little wolf pup could even bask in the moonlight once, it had already faded into a silent sigh.

“Can’t you let her be? Fawn is as innocent as a pup—she needs protection. Besides…” His palm rubbed gently, “we’ll soon have our own pup. Once I’ve taken care of Fawn, I’ll give you the grandest pack ceremony—under the full moon, I’ll declare to everyone that you are my one Luna. Don’t sulk, okay?”

“Oh? So the mighty Alpha still remembers I was carrying your pup?”

What he didn’t know was that our little one was already gone.

When Alpha Neil saw the “Mate Bond Dissolution Agreement” bearing his own signature, he was stunned—unaware that he had signed it carelessly while tending to Fawn.

I placed the removed ring, the signed dissolution agreement, and the cold certificate

Alpha Leo’s voice was ice. “If you don’t save Samuel today, I’ll make sure Nina is buried with him.”
His ruthless words crashed over me like freezing water. But… if I save him, you’ll die… The rest of my plea never left my lips.
His lover, Sandra, collapsed in tears when Samuel died because of me, and Leo looked at me as if he wanted to tear me apart.
In the end, I chose not to save Samuel. He never knew Samuel was her secret lover. When she died, Leo nailed my little girl alive inside a coffin and offered her to the dark river as a sacrifice.
But fate gave me another chance. This time, I will never be chained by love again. My only obsession is to protect my daughter—and myself.

For seven years, I was the Luna who stood by my Alpha. Until the night I discovered he had bonded with another.
On a full moon, I slipped into the Silver Moon Pack’s camp, hoping to surprise my beloved Ethan. Instead, I stumbled upon his bonding ceremony with Beta Olivia.
Hidden in the shadows, I heard his voice: “If I don’t marry her, she’ll be forced to the old Alpha. I want to protect her. As for my fated mate—she’s been with me seven years. She won’t ever leave.”
So that’s all I was to him. Not love—just a habit.
After that, he missed promise after promise. Even the dagger he once swore on for me was carved with Olivia’s name.
That night I let go. I agreed to become the Frost Moon Pack’s Luna, to bond with Lucas.
When the ceremony began, Ethan stormed in, bloodied and desperate, begging me not to leave him. But I only said, “Your love never reached me. I am already Lucas’s Luna.”

The day I died, my sister wore the wedding dress I had always dreamed of, and married my boyfriend.
My family felt no sorrow over my disappearance.
My brother suspected I deliberately avoided blessing my sister.
My silent father believed I was malicious, unwilling to see my sister surpass me.
My mother called me ungrateful and demanded I apologize to my sister.
They didn't care if I was alive.
They were only worried that my absence would sadden my sister by denying her my blessing.

“Do I really deserve this?”
Dr. Xavier Brown asked the void after the woman he loved smiled and shoved him off a rooftop.

He died a brilliant, betrayed genius… only to wake up as the worthless secondary character in a trashy web novel.

The pathetic live-in son-in-law.
The disposable husband.
The man scripted to be humiliated, divorced, and killed so the protagonists could shine.

Died once.
Refused to die again.

Armed with every humiliating page of his own doom, Xavier signs the divorce papers with a smirk, takes the money, and kicks the first death flag into the dirt.

But the story doesn’t let go so easily.

When he saves the mother of Isabella Voss, the novel’s ice-cold villainess, using medicine this world has never seen, she doesn’t destroy him.
She builds him a kingdom: a hospital with top-notch facilities, an empire of shadows, and a love that feels dangerously real.

Then the truth rips the script apart.

He isn’t Alexander Rodriguez.
He is Alexander Winchester, erased heir to a hidden mafia family, legendary assassin king, memory wiped and chained as a live-in dog by the very people who now call themselves heroes.

Six deadly sisters descend to reclaim him.
A ruthless CEO. A ghost hacker, an assassin trainer, a pharmaceutical prodigy, a public opinion goddess, and the youngest who sees what’s coming before it breathes.

With a system that evolves from cold machine to snarky partner in crime, Xavier walks two paths at once:

The Healer who rewrites life, and the Ruler who burns false fates to ash.

But Karma never dies, Damien and Sophie met with their consequences

Every betrayal returns.
Every death flag screams.

“Do I really deserve this?”

Xavier smiles, scalpel in one hand, shadow in the other.

This time the answer is yes.

At the family dinner, a Wall Street rising star flaunted his power in front of me, boasting that he was the chief agent of the "Godfather of the Underworld."
My ex-wife's family fawned over me like dogs, pointing their fingers at me and taunting, "You spineless, gigolo trash, you're not even worthy to carry Mr. Victor's shoes!"
Victor, even more smug, turned on speakerphone, trying to use my privileges to curry favor with my wife.
I stood silently in the corner, coldly pressing a blood-red command: [Permanently Delete Account].
The next second, the system's cold pronouncement came through his phone: "Warning, you have overstepped your authority and have been banned across the entire network!"
The room fell silent instantly.
They had no idea that I was the true Godfather, the one who controlled a multi-billion dollar empire and ruled the Western underworld!

I died, but my body lay unclaimed in the police station.
The police officer investigating my death was my biological father.
Just on the day I was recognized as his daughter, my fake sister fell to her death off a cliff.
They blamed everything on me.
Even when the kidnapper called,
they thought it was just a ploy of mine to get their attention.
They wished I had died in place of their daughter.
Now, I really am dead,
and their beloved daughter has returned, pregnant.

In my past life, I died in a freezing, damp basement.
The person who destroyed me was Evelina, the daughter of my father’s mistress. She set a trap at a charity gala, dragged my reputation through the mud, and forced me into a hellish marriage—all so she could strip away everything that rightfully belonged to me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was twenty-two. The gala that sealed my fate was happening tonight.
Before the banquet officially began, I seamlessly swapped two champagne flutes, handing her meticulously woven trap right back to her. When the scandal detonated, sending shockwaves through the ballroom, my eyes landed on Killian—the Vance family's notoriously cold-blooded illegitimate son.
The trust fund my mother left me was still firmly under my control. I walked straight up to him and laid my chips on the table.
My enemies had retreated to the shadows, waiting to strike back. But I was going to use their own conspiracies as stepping stones, clawing back everything I owned, one piece at a time.

My brother chose my enemy, and the man I loved joined forces with her to sell me into a club.
Pregnancy, miscarriage, imprisonment, beatings—every cry for help I made was dismissed as "just an act."
It wasn't until I was truly dead that they lost their minds, dropping to their knees at my grave and sobbing that they were sorry.
But by then, I could no longer hear them.

Sofia is an eighteen-year-old who has been bullied and tortured her whole life. When she realized that her only hope of going through school was to attend a school only for boys, she took a bold step and cut her hair to look like a boy and got into Blairwood Academy.

She has to try her best to make sure nobody finds out her real identity, or she would be kicked out. But it's difficult to hide it, especially from her roommate, Scott Blackwood, an icy nineteen-year-old who she always managed to get on his bad side.

I was reborn, back to the moment before I was dragged to death by motorcycles in the wasteland.

In my previous life, I listened to the moral blackmail of the saintly female lead Daisy and used my abilities to desperately save a motorcycle gang surrounded by zombies.

As a result, I was severely injured from ability overexertion, and these ungrateful wolves used me as a tool to establish dominance, dragging me to death with motorcycles across the wasteland.

Before I died, Daisy was still there crying: "We tried our best, this isn't our fault."

Now that I have a second chance, she stands before me again shouting:

"Cole! What are you standing there for? Go save them! Those people are going to die! You have abilities, you must save them!"

Looking at her hypocritical saintly face, rage burned in my chest.

Why should my abilities save ungrateful wolves? Why should my life be a stepping stone for others?

The kindness of fools is worthless!

So I threw her out to feed the zombies!

On the execution platform, my noble and beautiful wife used her dagger to carve open my chest.
My nominal adopted son pressed a red-hot iron into my skin, branding me with the "F"-class mark of the lowest outcast, draining my transcendent bloodline dry.
"The Storm Kingdom has no use for a cripple with zero beast-spirit affinity. You belong rotting in the abyss!"
They cut the chains and kicked me into the Black Abyss—a place from which no one returns—then turned to carve up my throne.
They thought I was as good as dead.
They had no idea that the deepest darkness of that abyss harbored the most terrifying ancient demon in existence.
Two weeks later, as they raised their glasses to toast the new king's coronation, I kicked down the castle gates, wielding the ember-fire of annihilation and a tide of ten thousand beasts.
Looking down at the woman who once stood so high above me, now groveling in the mud and begging for mercy, I tossed the bloodstained broken blade onto the hem of her dress:
"Remember this forever—it was you who took a nobody you crushed beneath your feet and turned him into a king you'll kneel before and never win back. Now, hand over your lives."

EJ Hollen and Zenia Blackman were friends before deciding on having things get more serious between them. All EJ wanted was to be loved for who he is but Zenia was bended on true love doesn't exist and was more keen on living in the moment. She was also harboring a dark secret from EJ and when he found out, all things fell apart, including their relationship.
Would they ever love each other again?

Emily Hollen and Sebastian were high school sweethearts but a lie created by a vicious ex-girlfriend drove a wedge between the couple causing an end to their relationship.
It's now years later and they're adults. Emily is a hotelier with a passion for traveling and establishing hotels around the world. Her next destination took her to a country she wasn't familiar with and it was governed by a monarchy. What a surprise it was for Emily when she learnt the soon-to-be-king was Sebastian and he was looking for a bride to rule at his side.

Evan Hollen had it all. The looks, the charm, the girls and the CEO job position at his father's company. Jasmine Blackman was the ordinary assistant with a crush on her boss. Her day-dreaming and fantasies eventually escalated when the two shared drinks and ended up in bed together, and just when she thought she should open up to him about the way she, Evan rejected her. But Evan was only fooling himself. His feelings grew towards Jasmine but she was already looking in the direction of another man.

I received a pornographic video.
"Do you like this?"
The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts.
"Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response.
"You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!"
The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed.
I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella.


“I want to get a divorce, Mark,” I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time—even though I knew he'd heard me clearly.
He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!"
The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him.
"I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster.
He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table.
I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

All Emma ever wanted was to feel like she belonged. Put up for adoption as a child and quitting her first job because of her boss, she was desperate to navigate her young adult life.
Luckily for her, she landed a job as a live-in maid to the rich and powerful Ethan Hollen. Emma was in charge of preparing Ethan's coffee every morning and soon enough, more things started heating up between the two but there's just one problem. Ethan is engage to another woman.

Sacha Rish is a young African American woman with a little sister to care and provide for. When their parents tragically passed away, Sacha is left all alone to care for Judy so that she doesn't end up in foster care, but Sacha's life is rough. After losing her job and her apartment, she's desperate more than ever to make ends meet and just when she was on the brink of 'rock bottom'... She meets multi millionaire Christian Alexander who gave her an offer she couldn't refuse. This offer came with activities Sacha had no experience in. And things became heated when she fell for Christian.

"Marry me and give me an heirs, but not with love! I'll give you 500,000 dollars as compensation or more." Allan Watson

Evelyn Adam is a beautiful 19-20 year old girl who has always had misfortune.

Her parents had just passed away in a plane crash. Evicted by his evil uncle from their home and seized his entire inheritance.
Living on the streets without a penny in his hand.
Worst of all, finds out that his only sister has cancer and needs a lot of money.

She needs one hundred thousand dollars to pay for her sister's illness in two days!

A desperate Evelyn Adams is forced to accept a one-year contract marriage proposal and produce Heirs for a handsome 28-year-old Billionaire named Allan Watson. The sole heir to the Watson empire that controls businesses across most of Wellington County.

Will Evelyn be able to accept?

Is Evelyn ready to be the wife of a Billionaire and give him an heir? Without love between them?

Can they fall in love with each other?

What happens when the Billionaire's ex-fiancee comes back into their lives?

What happened when Eve found out she was pregnant?

‘PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.’
“And where exactly would you go after the divorce?” Felix scorned.
“Have you forgotten you had nothing when grandma took you in?” He added, giving her a dismissive once-over.
There was no hint of surprise on his face regarding the divorce news, which all the more showed how much he disliked her.
Wren has spent three years of her life trying to be the perfect housewife to an unloving man. But when she’s pushed to the wall, she’s forced to retaliate.
However she has no idea what is waiting for her on the other side. Happiness at last or worse chaos?