9968 Book(s) Related to the hockey alpha s rejected omega fake dating the ice king for revenge

For twenty years, Lyra Solis was the perfect daughter, the perfect socialite, and the perfect fiancée. But the moment the Solis family’s biological daughter, Seraphina, returned from the Outer Rim, Lyra’s life became an expired contract.
The betrayal was total: her parents turned their backs, and her fiancé—the man she was supposed to spend her life with—spent his sacred Alpha rut in the arms of her sister.
To seal Lyra’s fate, Seraphina committed the ultimate crime: she hacked Lyra’s terminal to submit a Genetic Pairing Application. Under Alpha Prime Interstellar Law, the match is permanent. The bond is unbreakable. And the recipient is random.
Lyra didn't cry. She didn't beg. She simply walked away from the only home she ever knew to meet the stranger the system had chained her to.
She expected a commoner. She expected a life of obscurity.
Instead, she found Valerius Thorne.
He is a vision of lethal beauty: ink-black hair, violet eyes, and nine shimmering silver tails that speak of a lineage long thought extinct. Trapped in a violent, drug-induced rut and hunted by assassins, the Nine-Tailed Prince of the Empire is at his most vulnerable. When he clings to Lyra, whispering, "My star, did you come to take me home?" Lyra says yes.
What Lyra doesn't know is that she is a Null-Frequency, the only genotype in the galaxy capable of taming the most powerful Alpha in existence.
The Solis family thinks they threw her to the wolves. They have no idea she’s coming back at the side of a God.

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

"Shit! I want her under me."
Alex couldn't take it anymore. He moved her hand to touch Irene's thick, full lips until Irene woke up and opened her eyes. Somewhat surprised, he managed to control her. They teased each other with their gazes.

Alex Matthew was a boss of all kinds of big business, one of which was dangerous narcotics. The police struggled to catch him and hired a spy from a secret agent. She is a female spy with a good reputation. Irene is her name.
Irene uses her psychometric abilities to find out Alex's loopholes. However, for the first time, she fails and gets into a heated relationship with the dealer while Irene is married to a police detective.
Infidelity and psychometry become a demonic circle.
Will Irene be able to get out of the hot relationship and return to her husband? Or is it the other way around?

“Where did you hide the body?”

That was the first thing he asked me. Not my name. Not why I was kneeling in the snow beside the grave.

Two years ago, I falsified a DNA report to protect my father. The mistake buried a woman’s justice—and raised a man’s revenge.

Vale Creed, the billionaire who built his empire on truth, doesn’t believe in forgiveness. He believes in leverage.

Now, he knows what I did.

His sister’s death, my father’s secret, one impossible lie.

And his proposal? Not love.

A contract. A punishment. A marriage.

Christmas is coming, and I’m trapped in his glass mansion—where every room hides a memory, every kiss feels like evidence, and every heartbeat sounds like a confession.

But the deeper I fall, the closer the truth gets to killing us both.

"Mr. Wolfe's daughter needs a live-in caretaker. You will handle her meals, her studies and her daily supervision."
"Wait… a nanny?"
"Not just a nanny. A live-in housekeeper and companion. Full access. Housing, transport and excellent pay."
I blinked. "How excellent?"
"Six figures annually," Dana replied.
Rennie Brooks was not looking for a miracle. She only wanted to survive. With one hundred and two dollars in her account, an empty fridge and no one left to rely on, she never expected a desperate phone call to lead her into the estate of billionaire Shawn Wolfe. He is powerful, distant and impossible to read. Years of heartbreak and a toxic past with his ex-wife have turned him into a man who trusts no one. His daughter, Diane, is known for chasing away every nanny who steps through the door.
Until Rennie arrives.
From the moment she enters the Wolfe mansion, everything begins to shift. The cold silence softens. Diane attaches herself to Rennie with surprising devotion. The staff breathe easier. And Shawn, who once believed his heart was permanently locked, starts to feel something he has not felt in years.
To everyone else, Rennie is simply the hired help.
Behind closed doors, the truth is very different. Their connection grows in quiet moments and lingering glances. It is forbidden, risky and too intense to ignore.
He is her employer.
She lives under his roof.
No one, not even his daughter, can know what is happening between them.
But some feelings refuse to stay hidden.
They rise, they consume and they change the course of every life they touch.
Sometimes love does not wait for permission.
Sometimes it enters without warning and refuses to leave.

Evelyn Mitchell thought love meant sacrifice—until the man she married turned her into a ghost in her own home. Married for three years, ignored, humiliated, and blamed for a tragedy she didn’t cause, Evelyn is shattered when she learns she's pregnant with Fabian's child—the same man who loves her sister, Gina.
As secrets unravel and betrayal cuts deeper, Evelyn must decide: stay silent and disappear, or fight for the child she never thought she'd have… and the dignity she refuses to lose.
In a world where loyalty is twisted and love is weaponized, how far will one forgotten wife go to protect what's hers?

The door wasn't closed properly, and I overheard the truth that had been thirteen years in the making.

She called me a simp, said she never submitted an MBA application, and said her whole family was just waiting to live off my trust fund.

I didn't rush in at that moment—only a fool would give the other side a chance to perform.

I simply pressed the elevator button, got back into my car, and deleted all contact information within three seconds.

Then I began the liquidation: assets, contracts, guarantee agreements, cutting them off cleanly one by one.

Thirteen years is enough to feed a liar.

Next, she needs to know that the Grant family never does business at a loss.

Claire Bennett built her marriage the way she built her fortune: with clear eyes, sharp numbers, and no illusions about love. So when her husband, Ethan, announces that he is pretending to be poor for a younger woman, Claire is less offended by the affair than by the insultingly low breakup fee he plans to offer.

Then the game turns expensive. The young woman knows more than Ethan thinks, and the elite attorney hired to tear apart Claire's finances is Adrian Shaw, the broke student Claire once deceived, desired, and abandoned with two million dollars. To survive the divorce, Claire must outplay a husband who wants devotion without sacrifice, face the man who once offered her everything he had, and decide whether money can still buy the only thing she actually regrets losing.

My husband, Ethan Cole, had found a young woman to play poor with. He shared her rented apartment, wore matching outfits bought on clearance, and hunted down takeout deals. He called it getting back to his roots.

We'd had even less when we started out. A leaking basement. Cheap noodles because delivery cost too much. Now that we were rich, he missed being broke.

"It's just for fun. We're not sleeping together," he told me. "When I get bored, I'll give her two hundred thousand dollars to move on. You won't have to deal with her."

I didn't cry. I didn't throw anything.

After a moment, I asked, "Two hundred thousand? Isn't that a little cheap?"

Years earlier, I'd played the same game with a broke young man.

When I left him, I'd paid two million.

In the bridal suite of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Kian and Kael stood before me. Two identical faces, two identical groom suits.
"Renata, can you tell which one is me?"
In my past life, I instantly pointed to Kian, the arrogant Voss heir.
He smiled, took my hand, and led me to the altar, swearing his eternal love in front of New York's most powerful families.
After the wedding, he spoiled me like a true Queen. I naively thought this was my perfect happily-ever-after.
That was until his precious adopted sister, Lorelei, died in a yacht explosion.
Driven mad by grief, my "perfect" husband pushed me off our penthouse balcony.
"If you had just chosen Kael at the wedding, I could have eloped with Lorelei! She wouldn't have died! Why did you have to ruin everything, Renata?!"
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my wedding dress.
This time, without a second of hesitation, I threw myself into Kael’s chest. I hooked my finger around his tie and smiled. "I’d know you anywhere."
I heard Kian let out a heavy sigh of relief, thinking he had won his sick little bet.
But he didn't notice Kael’s arms locking around my waist like a steel trap, nor the dark, predatory hunger in his eyes that he had buried for a decade......

To buy my freedom, I made a deal with my father. I would play Lorenzo Hale’s fiancée, his shield, until he took the throne as Don. Then I’d swallow a black-market drug, fake my death.
For five years, I took bullets for Lorenzo. I tasted poison meant for him. I bled for him more times than I can count. The whole underworld said Corinne Moretti loved Lorenzo Hale so much it made her crazy.
The day he finally became Don, he married my sister Blair, declaring he would keep me as his mistress.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply started counting the days.
The drug was already in my blood. Seven days, and I’d be gone.
But by the time Lorenzo finally decided he wanted me to stay, I was already “dead.”

I died once. Madison shoved me into a zombie horde and watched them tear me apart.

She was crying, saying, "You have a duty to save everyone," and then she ran.

Now I'm back. Twenty-eight hours until the virus leaks.

She's still sitting in the front row, smiling at me: "Ethan, you're such a good person."

This time around, I decide who saves who.

This life, I'm only the Grim Reaper.

In my last life, I needed five million dollars to pay for my mother’s treatment. So I signed a three-year marriage contract with Everett and became the Mrs. Thorne everyone envied.

But throughout those three years, his heart belonged to Celeste, the woman he had never gotten over after she left for Europe.

She came back the day we buried my mother.

The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Everett snapped at me over the phone for bothering him during surgery.

And when I took my last breath in a hospital bed, he was in France attending a conference with Celeste.

Until the moment I died, he never came to see me. Not even once.

Then I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day of my mother’s funeral.

Her body had barely been laid to rest, yet that evening, Everett raised his glass at a charity gala and announced that Celeste would become the new chief of neurosurgery at Thorne Medical Group. He looked at her with a tenderness he had never shown me, and the sight of it hurt.

The entire room applauded them.

No one remembered that I had buried my mother that very day.

I picked up a glass of red wine, walked straight over, and threw it in Everett’s face.

“A bitch and a bastard. What a perfect match. Hope it lasts forever.”

I pulled off my wedding ring and tossed it into the champagne tower. As glass shattered and cameras flashed around me, I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Everett said through clenched teeth, “Without the Thorne family, you’re nothing.”

He had no idea that I would never go back to him again.

Just as my business partner called to gloat, the loan shark's hitmen were frantically hacking at my security door.

"Arthur, I've been reborn too. I embezzled that ten million in company funds to build a doomsday bunker. Enjoy taking the knife for me!"

Listening to the voice through the receiver, I simply smashed the window and vaulted from the second floor, not wasting even half a second on his bullshit.

Building a private shelter with ten million in dirty money? He had absolutely no idea just how terrifying the monsters that would rip apart the earth's crust in thirty days truly were.

Dragging my bleeding arm, I charged into an underground internet cafe and forcibly hacked into the highest early warning system of the Overseas Defense Agency.

Half a year later, the Abyss descended. His proud bunker was crushed like papier-mâché during the very first beast tide. As he scrambled for his life through the mud like a pathetic bug, he looked up—only to see a national-level steel fortress stretching for thousands of kilometers across the horizon.

And there I was, clad in a black-and-gold Supreme Commander uniform, looking down at him from hundreds of meters above.

For a whole year, my husband's childhood friend treated my high-end boutique like her personal closet.

Bags that ran a few thousand dollars, couture gowns worth tens of thousands. She took whatever she wanted and walked out, never once saying the word "money."

The store bled cash month after month. When I finally hit my limit and told her to pay up, she slapped me across the face in front of a room full of customers.

"You should be flattered I even shop here. And you've got the nerve to ask me for money?"

Garrett came rushing in with his coffee, and the first thing out of his mouth wasn't whether I was okay. He pulled her behind him and told me to apologize, then said if I didn't, he'd divorce me.

I didn't cry, didn't make a scene. I picked the bill up off the floor, turned around, walked out, and made one phone call.

Three days later, Bianca comes back with five of her socialite friends, bragging that they're going to clean out every expensive piece in the place.

I hold my coffee and smile, tell them to take their time.

What she doesn't know is that three days ago, this store already changed hands.

Lunar Depletion Syndrome. Seven days.
That was my death countdown. And my Alpha mate Kael was still threatening me, demanding I use the last of my life force to save my sister.
On our third anniversary, he had given me a surgical consent form and dissolution papers as gifts.
How laughable.
Three years ago he had said my eyes sparkled like stars. Three years later he wanted me to close them forever.
They all said I had finally matured, learned the spirit of sacrifice expected of an older sister. The joke was, I hadn't been moved by love.
I was just tired.
Why struggle when death was inevitable?
Rather than dying alone in the wilderness, it was better to die on the operating table and become the perfect sacrifice in their story.

"Give Paige the tickets. I'll buy you a new bag tomorrow."

That was Caleb's first sentence to me on our five-year anniversary. His black Maybach idled at the curb. Paige stood closely behind him, wiping her tear-stained face. She had just climbed out of his passenger seat; I was just holding the two Nova VIP passes that took a miracle to score.

"She needs a distraction," Caleb added, fully expecting my usual quiet surrender.

I looked at them. No screaming. No tears. I just placed the tickets into his hand, turned on my heel, and left.

Let them enjoy the show. There was no space for me in that crowded arena, just like there was no space left for me in his world.

A man's luxurious watch slipped out of my wife's purse. Without batting an eye, she lied, "It's a gift for your dad." Looking at the youthful, trendy style and thinking of the remote-controlled toy that had mysteriously appeared in the nightstand, I felt nothing but utter disgust.
In the surveillance footage, the domineering homewrecker not only wore my clothes but also arrogantly taunted me.
And my own flesh and blood, the son I cherished more than my own eyes, had covered for them for a few hundred dollars of pocket money!
Since everything was rotten to the core, I wouldn't even want the son anymore.
Without a word, I accepted a tenured professor position overseas, decisively gave up custody, and promptly mailed the divorce papers and the adult toy to her company.
The mistress and the homewrecker's little celebration? Let them torment each other.
This time, I'm taking my life back.

Everyone says he loved me more than anything. So I chose to answer that love with death.

Forbes cover stories, tearful speeches at charity galas, shutting down Fifth Avenue every Valentine's Day just to watch fireworks with me. They said he ruled a business empire but would kneel in front of the entire world and call me his reason to live.

I used to believe it.

Until I discovered my perfect husband had built another home with another woman. A warm one, filled with laughter and his child.

So I chose to disappear the night the storm swallowed everything.

They say he spent three days on his knees at the cliff's edge, screaming my name into the black ocean. The man worth billions couldn't even find his wife's body.

When the rescue team recovered that burned-out car, he finally opened the safe I'd left for him. Inside was a positive pregnancy test and a divorce agreement that would never be signed.

By then, nothing mattered anymore.

My name is Maya Wilson. I'm seventeen, I have 100K TikTok followers, and I just watched my dad destroy our family for a twenty-five-year-old homewrecker named Ashley.

"Ashley makes me feel alive again," he said, dismissing seventeen years of marriage like a bad business deal.

"We'll be one happy family," she smiled, standing in our kitchen like she already owned it.

That's when I knew: Mom needed my protection.

What followed was a war fought with laptops and lies, fake pregnancies and real heartbreak. A battle between a broken housewife discovering her strength, a teenage girl wielding digital weapons, and a woman who thought she could manipulate her way to victory.

Six months later, Mom would be accepting awards. Ashley would be gone. And Dad?

Dad would be begging for forgiveness he'd never get.

Kael ruined my life, drained my divine blood, and framed me for murder in my past life. Given a second chance, I reject his fake tenderness and tear down every lie he built. The almighty Dark Duke who once played with my life now craves only my mercy. He abandons his army, destroys his status, and begs for my punishment. I end his tyranny, chain him with my golden blood, and turn my worst tormentor into my most obedient hound.

My water broke in the middle of my family’s tiny clinic.
Thirty-six weeks pregnant, breech baby, emergency C-section. I only had one request: not City Center Hospital.
Because the man I had been hiding from for eight months worked in a hospital.
I told myself there were hundreds of doctors in the city. It would not be him.
Then the operating room door opened.
My ex-boyfriend walked in wearing scrubs, looked at my chart, looked at my belly, and went completely still.
He was not just the man I had left.
He was the anesthesiologist about to put a needle in my spine.
And when our daughter was born wearing his exact face, there was no hiding left.

In seven years of marriage, I miscarried five times. I nearly died on the operating table.

My husband, Lorenzo Castellano—the mafia king who controlled the entire East Coast—gripped my blood-stained hand and choked out: "It's okay. You're all I need."

I believed him.

Until our anniversary, when I smelled her perfume on his shirt and discovered the truth: his sister-in-law had given him a three-year-old son—those same deep brown eyes I'd bled five times trying to create.

The cruel irony? Just the day before, two pink lines had appeared on a pregnancy test.

That night, the explosion lit up the entire ocean, our private yacht burning like a funeral pyre.

The man who made all of New York's underworld tremble finally learned what it meant to lose.

He lost his wife.

And the child he would never know existed.

I’ve been guarding a door in the Nevada underground for a hundred years. The system marks this place "Abandoned," and the official records claim I don't exist.
When the investigation team arrived, the leader was my old signal corpsman. He pretended not to know me and ordered his guards to drag me out like a piece of dead weight.
They shoved a young lad from the Rex family into the breach as bait, and while everyone screamed in horror, no one dared to move.
So, I jumped down to fish the kid out, using a bottle of beer to force back the tentacles reaching from the dark.
Then, I pulled on that dusty old uniform and pressed my palm against the master console—all thirty-two security protocols verified instantly.
The lead technician collapsed in shock: "This clearance level is restricted to the Chief Architect only."
He was right. I am.
The thing I’ve kept locked behind that door for a century woke up, whispering: "What do you want?"
I said: "Dinner."

On our one-year anniversary, my husband Julian gifted me an antique ring.
Putting it on cost me everything.
I miscarried, grew paralyzed, and rapidly withered into a husk. And Julian? He convinced everyone that the trauma had simply driven a grieving mother insane.
Eventually, even I believed him.
It wasn’t until the moment of my murder that the truth finally clicked.
The ring wasn't a blessing; it was a parasitic siphon.
Then, I opened my eyes—
I was back at the anniversary dinner.

or fifteen years, I loved Nolan Mercer from a distance. He was golden, decent, and way out of my league. I was the tycoon’s unwanted fifth kid who learned early to take what she wanted.

Then a glowing romance system popped up and told me I was his destined love interest. So I stopped being nice.

I trapped him into marriage. I dragged him into bed every chance I got. He told me he hated me every day, and I didn’t care. Fate said he was mine.

Six shameless months later, the system came back screaming: [ERROR! You’re not the heroine. You’re a side character. Leave the male lead immediately.]

Fine. I handed my cold, miserable husband the divorce papers and wished him luck with his real love.

There was just one problem.

The man who swore he’d do anything to get rid of me suddenly won’t sign. He’s “forgetting” cuff links under my pillow, drinking himself stupid at galas, and cornering me in stairwells to beg me not to leave.

Turns out the system got a lot more wrong than just me.

Three years ago, my best friend Juliana Pierce was raped and jumped from a twelve-story building. I was there. I saw everything. I know exactly who did it.

Alexander Knight—Juliana's boyfriend, brilliant scientist, the man I've secretly loved for seven years—has spent every moment since hunting for answers. He believes I'm shielding a predator. He's dedicated his life to making mine hell.

Now I'm dying of ALS, and Alexander's dragged my broken body onto his "Memory Judgment Stage" for the world to see. His new technology can rip memories straight from my brain and broadcast them as holograms.

"Tell them who killed Juliana," he shouted.

I refuse. So he cranks up the machine, letting the neural probes tear through my dying brain. My hand shatters. My body convulses. But I won't break.

Until the memories start bleeding out anyway.

And when Alexander sees the rapist's face—Completely loses his mind.

My serpent mate has locked me in the castle, nine months pregnant. A dozen serpent guards watch me day and night. I can't even leave the room.

A month ago, his brother died in a hunting accident. He became the serpent clan leader. Then he brought back his brother's widow, the woman he grew up with. His first love.

He said he needed to take care of his brother's widow. He told me we'd all live together in the castle, nice and peaceful.

I said no.

I'm his mate. I'm a beastman. My pride won't let me accept that. And they grew up together, childhood sweethearts. How could I not think about it?

She came to him in tears, heavily pregnant. She said I poisoned her medicine, that I wanted to kill her and the baby.

He believed her.

He decided I was just some rogue beastman with no background, jealous and vicious, only after his title and money. So he locked me in this freezing castle while he camped outside her delivery room.

When labor hit, I screamed for a healer. I swore I never hurt her. I just couldn't live with her under the same roof. I only ever loved him.

He just laughed. "You're good at acting. I don't believe a word out of you. Once she delivers safely, I'll deal with you. Don't think you can trick me into coming back."

But when a trembling guard reported "Your mate and the child... they didn't make it," he lost it completely.

The Solarien family had two daughters.
Aurelia, the younger, was their pride and joy, soon to marry Duke Lysander beneath a reputation she had never earned: the so-called genius enchantress.
I, Vespera, was nothing more than the family's hidden workhorse, locked in a basement and valued only for what I could produce.
For years, I churned out enchanted gear to fund their lavish life while they used me as a stepping stone for Aurelia without a trace of guilt.
I let them bleed me dry, clinging to the faint hope that they might someday treat me like family.
Then, on the eve of my wedding, my parents stole the gown I had spent three years pouring my blood and sweat into, all so Aurelia could make a grand impression.
They threatened my fiancé's life and forced me to cut my wrist, using my blood to reverse the runes and attune the enchantment to her instead of me—even though the backlash could cripple my magic for life.
The moment I watched my blood soak into that gown, I gave up on my family for good.
For all the family pride they fought so desperately to protect, there had never been room for me.

Only after I lost the promotion did I find out that my broke boyfriend secretly owned the company I worked for.

He'd voted against me.

One of his friends asked him, “Aren't you worried Nora Bennett will find out you've been lying to her and raise hell?”

Blake Whitmore gave a casual laugh.

“Why would I be? It doesn't take much to make her happy again.”

“Chloe's different. She's been a princess her whole life. When she wants something, she has to have it. I can't stand seeing her upset.”

“It's just a director's job. If she wants it, I'll let her have her fun.”

Chloe Sinclair.

The woman they'd brought in from outside to take the position I'd worked for.

Something I'd fought so hard to earn was just a toy she could have for the asking.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes, looked down at my phone, and answered the recruiter.

“Hi. I'd like to accept the offer in Pittsburgh.”

"They said I was just a piece of trash, only fit to be a substitute bride for the lunatic Abyssal Dragon Duke." I smirked, twisting the bone bracelet that sealed my venomous power. My fake sister wept pitifully, "Visenya, at worst, I'll bear the Duke's wrath myself." Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea. When the bloodthirsty Duke finally cornered me, he didn't tear me apart. Instead, he kissed my fingertips and chuckled. "So, my little bride, shall we slaughter the Emperor and take the throne for fun?" "Deal," I smiled. "But if you drag me down, I'll kill you too."

I was born able to see threads tying certain people to one another. A thin red thread stretched right above Mom and Dad’s heads.
I hurried over to Mom at once. “Mom, why is there a red thread connecting you and Dad?”
Mom laughed when she heard me, booping my nose fondly.
“That’s proof that Daddy loves me.”
Later, at our family gathering, Aunt Celia brought me a present just like she always did.
“Luna? Come see what Auntie brought you.”
I trotted over and found a cloth doll.
Just then, Dad walked up, knelt down beside me, and stroked my head.
“Luna, what do you say?”
I glanced up at Dad, then turned to look at Aunt Celia.
Little me was filled with huge confusion.
“It’s weird. Why is there such a thick red thread connecting Dad and Celia?”

On Halloween night, a sharp stench of chlorine and cheap booze woke me up.
I opened my eyes to a man grinning at the bedroom door.
It was my husband, David, soaking wet and showing off the liquor he’d vanished hours ago to buy.
I cursed him out, called him a liar, and demanded a divorce. He just kept that idiotic smile.
Then my phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Claire, David drowned drunk in the pool!"

Five years ago, my family burned to death in an "accident."

My loving husband Clifford signed the papers himself—shipped me off to a mental institution without a second thought.

Inside, Becky carved up my face with shattered glass. The same orphan I'd put through school. Then she rebuilt herself to match my features and stole my life—my husband, my son, everything.

Now she marched into the clinic where I scrub floors, dragging my biological child behind her, demanding I apologize to him like some servant.

She has no idea what kind of monster she created.

I’ve had a lot of things stolen from me by my stepsister, Paloma Thorne.
My father, my boyfriend, my baby, my thesis, my future...
When I was twenty-two, I walked into the university lab and caught Paloma and my boyfriend, Milo, tangled naked together. I miscarried on the spot. Later, as I lay in the hospital bed, Paloma used a secretly recorded sex tape of Milo and me as blackmail, sealing off my last possible way out. I didn't scream or cry. I just signed the papers, grabbed my suitcase, and left.
In Calder City, I met the mafia don, Darius Harlow. He was calm, dominant, and gave me a sense of security so overwhelming it was almost suffocating. So, I married him.
It wasn't until four years later, when I returned to Ellsworth for Paloma's wedding, that the illusion shattered.
The night before the wedding, standing outside a closed door, I heard her voice.
"Darius, I was the one who let go seven years ago. Let me make it up to you tonight. Please?"
The next second, I heard my husband's heavy breathing.
Only then did I realize that for the past four years, I was nothing but Paloma's stand-in.

I'm a forensic audio specialist. I make a living digging up the truths people deliberately erase from static and noise.
My 19-year-old brother was accused of pushing a billionaire's bride to her death at her wedding.
The police presented their "smoking gun" recording. I heard exactly twelve seconds missing from it.
Those twelve seconds hold the truth about how the bride really died—and the billionaire family's dark secret that will get both me and my brother killed.
They smashed my equipment, threatened my life, bribed the cops, and tried to bury the truth forever.
But what they don't know is—
Some voices refuse to stay silent. Even when they're cut out.

I chased after my first love, Joe, for years and finally worked up the courage to confess—only to overhear him plotting to get me drunk as a plaything.
Just when I was in utter despair, his mafia brother, David, showed up and saved me from deep sorrow. He treated me gently like I was made of glass, gifted me a private estate, got down on one knee and proposed, saying he'd had a crush on me for years.
I thought I'd finally escaped hell and found my one true love—until his “lover” Ann came back with a boy who looked exactly like him and stole every bit of his attention.
David swore Ann was just my stand-in, but he kept leaving me for her again and again, even throwing himself in front of bullets for her in a shootout, saying, “For you, I can risk my life.”

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.

"'You shattered my heart into a million pieces, and now you're asking me to pick them up? You crushed my trust, and now you want me to hand it back to you? I'm still finding pieces of myself in the ruins you left behind. How can I give you another chance when I'm still rebuilding myself from the last one? I'd rather drown in my tears than drown in your love.” Amy Snapped at Ryan.

Cheated upon by her fiancee with her step sister, heartbroken Amy Carter found herself in a club where she drank herself into a stupor, leading to a one night stand with an unknown stranger. Pregnant and chased out of the house with nowhere to go, her life went downhill. Amy left the country to avoid further humiliation, promising to do just anything to nurture the kid in her stomach.

However, she came back with her twin after six years. Finally, Billionaire Redford who had been in search of her, his one next stand from years ago, saw his chance to be with her and claim his children.

Will Amy agree to the rekindling
and find happiness from the one night of mistake and settle for the stranger she had one night stand with?

Or do you think her ex boyfriend will win her over again after betraying her with her step sister?

Sabrina devoted seven years of her life to a marriage built on hope, sacrifice, and repeated heartbreak.
But just when she discovers she is pregnant again, her husband Leon shatters her world with one sentence: "She's carrying a healthy baby, Sabrina… and she deserves to be with the father of her child." Thrown aside for Zara—his first love, now heavily pregnant with his child—Sabrina spirals into a life-threatening tragedy the moment Leon turns his back.
As she fights for her life in the hospital, the only man who runs to her side is Cole, Leon's best friend… the man who has silently loved her for years. While Leon builds a new family with Zara, Cole bleeds, fights, and risks everything to keep Sabrina alive.
Betrayed and broken, she finds unexpected solace in Cole Lander—her husband's best friend. Will Sabrina find the strength to start over, or will her pain consume her?

Warning: This novel have matured contents +18

Me and you. Come on let's play. "She said".

Um, okay, sure," I said, "but what do we do if one of us refuses to answer truth, or do a dare?"

"Then," smiled vicky, "A different truth or dare is given, and that one has to be done, no matter what."

"Ok Deal," I said.

"Truth or Dare?" she asked.

"Truth," I said.

"What's your honest opinion of those pics you saw, of me?" She gave me a look of pure curiosity, which only made me laugh a little.

"They were very hot," I said. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," she said, smiling at my comment.

"Is it just me, or are you not wearing panties?" I said, more to tease her about it, than I was curious.

"Yeah, I'm not," she said. "Actually, I'm surprised you noticed. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," I said.

"I dare you to take off your shirt," she said.

So, thats how it started. I don't know why, but her mission is to find any means to have me for herself not minding what it will result to. Though she later had me and even got pregnant for me., but what happened after that is was you won't expect.

"You ruined my life… you were the one my stepsister used to ruin it, right? I know you're both devils!" Amy cried, collapsing to the ground as her heart shattered into pieces.

"I was at the bar that night… I didn't intend for anything to happen. I'm sorry. We have to be together for the sake of our kids," Redford said, pleading on his knees.

"Be together? I can never be with a man like you. My children aren't yours. Give me my kids, and let's part as if we never met," Amy's eyes were fixed on the floor, her tone steady.

Cheated on and humiliated, Amy spiraled into despair, leading to a reckless one-night stand with a stranger. Pregnant and abandoned, she fled the country to protect her child, vowing to survive at all costs.

Five years later, Amy returns with her twin, only to find that the stranger from that night is none other than billionaire Redford—now searching for her… and for the children he never knew he would claim.

Relentless, unpredictable, and impossible to resist, Redford will stop at nothing to make Amy his. But with her ex-fiancé still in the picture, Amy must decide: can she trust the love born from one reckless night… or will the past destroy her chance at happiness?

All she yearns for was her father's dick buried deep inside her wet vagina, she would always get mad each time she caught a glimpse of any lady chatting with her dad. This feeling had to stop; she was lusting after her dad. There are many guys out there, trying their logical best to seize her attention for she was a beauty to behold, but all she wanted was her dad, her dad only. She always wished for her mom to always be on business trips, so she would have all the time with her hottie Dad.

It started as a mere attraction, a mere attraction from a daughter to her dad, but what started as a mere attraction became lust, pure lust.

Daniella is the only child of her parents, her mom was always on business trips, so she hardly took care of her only child. This made her grow fond of her young and super hot Dad. While growing up, both father and daughter fell in love with each other, but each of them tried to conceal their feelings for one another.

But such feelings of lust couldn't be hidden for long, such feelings of cravings couldn't be held back.

Would Daniella and her dad get to stop the taboo they were about to engage in?

Would the lust between them turn to love?

Read! To get all the answers.

Sabrina Daniels has spent years quietly pining for her older brother’s closest friend—the star forward and team captain, Ronan Dickson. When her parents leave the country for several months, she’s more than happy to move into the house her brother shares with Ronan… until the night she finally confesses how she feels and he turns her down.

Shattered and embarrassed, Sabrina does her best to stay out of his way. But living under the same roof—and the undeniable pull that still crackles between them—makes distance almost impossible.

Ronan may have rejected her, yet he never pulls away when she tests the boundary again. What begins as stolen, secret kisses quickly deepens into something far more intense and forbidden.

Ronan, however, is carrying more than unresolved feelings. He’s still haunted by the unsolved killing of his mother years ago. When Sabrina insists on helping him dig for the truth, the evidence points somewhere neither of them ever expected—straight to her own father.

As long-buried secrets surface and loyalties shatter, one question hangs over them:
Can their relationship survive when the truth threatens to destroy everything they know?

A madman attacked the concert hall. I threw myself over my son, taking every blow meant for him. My spine shattered in three places.

My husband Arthur subdued the attacker and rushed us to the hospital—the picture of a devoted, loving spouse.

It was only after hearing his conversation with the doctor that I finally saw his true colors.

My crippling injury was merely collateral damage. My son Ethan? Nothing but a living cornea donor for Mia—the cherished daughter he had with his first love.

He treated my child like spare parts, never knowing Mia isn't even his blood.

My mother gave me her kidney. The price was my husband.
As the orderlies wheeled me toward surgery, Mom gripped my hand and begged through her tears: “Promise me you'll divorce Ansel. Your sister needs him.”
My husband had already signed the papers. “Give me one year,” he said. “Once Tam's back on her feet, we'll get remarried.”
I survived the operation. I signed away my marriage. Then I vanished to London without a word.
Four years later, I walk into my old tailor's shop in Chicago and run straight into the happy family: my ex, my parents, and my very pregnant little sister. They're sure I've come crawling back. They're sure I'm still bitter, still alone, still desperate for the man they handed to her.
So when I tell them I'm married now, they laugh. When I tell them my husband and daughter just landed at O'Hare, they call me a liar.
And when they decide to lock me away “for my own good,” they're about to find out exactly whose family they just declared war on.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, inside the sealed cabin of a commercial airliner, my five-year-old daughter vanished into thin air while I took a thirty-minute nap.
I tore through the lavatories, the galleys, and every overhead bin. The only thing I found was her stuffed bunny, the one she never let out of her sight.
What was even more terrifying was the crew and the passengers. As if perfectly rehearsed, they all insisted I had boarded the plane alone. They even gaslit me in front of everyone, claiming I was mentally unstable and had hallucinated a daughter.
They took turns pushing me, trying to force me into self-doubt and submission. Not a single person offered to help me look. The entire plane was covering up a sinister crime.
If this plane was going to hide my child and protect the guilty, then I would tear this hypocritical aircraft apart with my bare hands.

My stepmother married my father because she mistakenly believed he was an Alpha, and that was the beginning of my tragedy.
In my past life, I was falsely accused by my stepmother, betrayed by my mate, and abandoned by my father, who refused to believe me and sold me to an elderly Omega. In the end, I died with injustice in my heart.
But heaven has granted me a second chance. I have returned to the very day my stepmother framed me for her miscarriage.
This time, I won’t let them have their way.
I have gathered my entire pack to make meatballs together, waiting to put on a spectacular show—exposing the scandal of my stepmother, Odessa, and my mate, Beta Peregrine.

To save my grandmother from the agony of silver poisoning, I signed a mate contract with Frost Pack’s Alpha Charles—trading eight years as Luna in exchange for her medical treatment.
But what was claimed to be a bond of “mutual help” was a carefully crafted lie from the start.
Charles used her life-sustaining potion to force my silence while he betrayed me over and over, parading one female wolf after another through our home.
He stood by as Thalia drove straight into my heavily pregnant body and said coldly, “You're just a surrogate anyway.”
I lay in a pool of blood, watching him walk away with her in his arms, while our Alpha pup suffocated inside me.
And then… my grandmother died too.
When the ashes of that contract scattered before her grave, and my wolf soul Chloe let out a howl that tore through my chest, I finally removed the moonphase pendant that marked me as Luna.
“Charles,” I said, voice steady with fury, “what you owe me is more than eight years of my life.”

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.