8705 Book(s) Related to desolate island i am the only man

“Lucy stole my fiancé.”

My best friend stared at me.

“So?”

I smiled.

“So I'm going to marry her uncle.”

I never planned to become Manhattan's biggest scandal.

But after my fiancé, Kyle, cheated on me with Lucy—and I discovered that I was drugged, left in a stranger's bed, and pregnant with a baby whose father I couldn't remember—I was done being the woman everyone could betray.

Lucy stole my man?

Fine.

I'd become her family.

I walked into billionaire Adrian Wells's office, claimed he was the father of my unborn baby, and proposed a contract marriage.

One year. One billionaire husband. One unborn heir.

It was supposed to be the perfect revenge.

Then Kyle wanted me back. Lucy tried to destroy me. My coworkers came after my career.

And Adrian—the ruthless man I thought I could use—turned out to be the most dangerous temptation of all.

I married him to punish the people who betrayed me. But what will happen when they expose the one lie that could make my husband betray me too?

As a wife and mother, she came home one day to find another woman in her place.
That was when she knew. This marriage was beyond saving.
The lies and deception were just a thin veil no one bothered to see through. The favoritism. The blame. Year after year, cutting into her like glass.
When the birthday cake she had fought so hard to get ended up in the trash, she swallowed her tears along with the bitterness.
Giving up became inevitable. So did the divorce.
It wasn't until dust settled on her vanity table that her husband and children finally realized—home had become a cold, empty coffin.

Three years of their contract marriage, Kathryn Alberto got tired of how unfair her husband treats her and requested to have a divorce. Lyon Alberto is a very busy man that he hardly remembers he’s married and it almost seemed as if he was forced into the marriage. Lyon rejected Kathryn request for he’s running for the presidency election and needs his wife till it’s over. Lyon offer her a contract to stay for 3months till the election is over. Kathryn accept but on a condition and that’s if Lyon stays with her 24hours. The Table turned! Things are about to get spicy! Now that Lyon finds his wife more attractive and his dirty past!!

Avery Brown always dreamed of a perfect life with her husband, Scott Brandon. Everything seemed to be falling into place, and soon she was expecting a baby.
But everything changed the day she came home from the hospital, ready to share her happy news. Instead, she found another woman in her husband's arms. As if that betrayal wasn't enough, Scott handed her divorce papers and cast her aside as if she meant nothing.
Five years later, Avery returns to the city with her daughter and a new strength. She is no longer the woman who once begged for love.
What she never expected was her ex-husband's desperate attempt to win her back.
Will Avery give him another chance or will she walk away for good?

She has loved him all her life, she married him to save him from his vicious girlfriend but all she got in return was hatred and mistreatment from him and his girlfriend, when she couldn't endure anymore she did what he has always wanted, she signed the divorce papers

Two years later, she's back with three gorgeous sons and was now a Zillionaire, her husband knelt before her at the airport

"Please forgive me wifey"

"Ex.." She remarked.

For Renata, the world of the rich is a place where she will never belong, as everyone, without exception, as self-centered, mean, rude, overbearing, cheating and wicked.
When she leaves the country, she starts working for one of the biggest companies in the world, and although she hates herself for feeling this, she can't keep the bold Italian out of her thoughts, she can't control her heartbeat let alone the butterflies in her stomach every time he's around.
She tries not to want him for 3 reasons:
1 - He is rich.
2 - He is her boss, and
3 - She finds the behavior of this Italian tycoon very suspicious.
The more she tries to stay away, the more he insists on getting closer.
Between them, which will speak louder: love or reason?

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't fuck your brains out right now?" he ask and I shudder.
"Nnn... Nooo! I don't have a reason," I stutter.
"Good! I am about to forget you are my princess and fuck you like a slut," he promises as he fucks me.
"I am a slut, only for you," I murmur.


I have always had a crush on my dad's best friend but Jack never saw me as a woman and rather he always referred to me as a child and treated me just like one. Just that, something ws soff in the eau he looked at me and spoke to me from time to time. I could feel the need in his voice and fire in his eyes.

So when my parents had to leave for some days and he was asked to take care of me I knew that was the only chance I will ever get at making my feelings known to him and to know whether or not what I saw was real ot if I wasn't Hallucinating. The first few nights were tough and he kept off saying I was off limits to him, but what if I am not and he is only trying to send me away bechause of the lady I saw him kissing the other night?

Synopsis

Nineteen-year-old orphan Ethan built everything from nothing — three years of pizza deliveries, a cheap suit, and one promotion away from a decent life. Then his girlfriend chose his childhood bully over him, a bullet ended up in his chest, and he was dumped on the pavement like garbage.

He should have died.

Instead, he woke up with a system that turns real money into power, dungeons into opportunity, and patience into revenge.

Lawrence Luther doesn't know what's coming and nobody else does too.

But Ethan has always been good at building things quietly — and this time, he's building something that cannot be taken from him.

I thought I was the happiest woman in the world... until I clicked on that video.

The moment the screen lit up, my entire world came crashing down.

The woman on the bed was Calista - that girl who grew up with us since we were kids. And that hand caressing her skin was wearing the wedding ring I had personally put on Matteo's finger.

"I've missed you so much..."
"You drive me crazy, baby..."

Those sweet words I knew so well completely destroyed me.

Everyone said we were the perfect couple, but who knew this marriage was built on nothing but lies?

Since he's so good at acting, I guess it's time I gave him a show of my own. I'm going to make sure everyone sees what this "perfect husband" really is...

I married my abuser by choice.
To everyone’s confusion, I stay by his side silently, tolerating his endless humiliation and public degradation in front of tens of thousands of livestream viewers. I never cry, never resist, always flawless and docile.
No one notices I’ve kept a perfect physical form, hiding a terrible secret beneath my makeup.
When a strange superchat tears through the live stream and reveals my true identity, my husband is terrified yet obsessed with viral fame. He plans to test my truth tonight.
The meek wife act is over. My quiet, deadly revenge is finally coming true.

On the live gala broadcast, everyone called Vanessa Hart “Mrs. Caldwell.” And the real Mrs. Caldwell — me — sat at home, watching him let it all happen.
I have loved Ethan for more than a decade, only to get a marriage built on a deal. He married me to save my family. He kept me around because I was still useful. What he never realized was that I had a heart, and it could break beyond repair.
When I finally turned and walked away, he discovered the woman who had always waited for him was gone.
Now he drowns in regret. But will I ever go back to him?

The day my sister and I came back to life, we made one call: swap fiancés.

Last time, Dad burned every favor he had to lock down two marriage deals for the family. One with a mafia family that runs the West Coast. The other with a corporate CEO.

My sister married the mafia leader. She was too gentle, too kind for a world that ran on blood and backstabbing. The man had a childhood friend who played soft and helpless but was vicious as hell underneath. That woman tormented my sister for decades before finally arranging an "accident" that killed her.

And me? I got the polished CEO.

Sounds good, right? Except we tortured each other from day one. He was all rules and manners, always talking like he was giving a speech. Me? I blow up fast and if I can throw a punch, I will. Every day was the same standoff. He'd pull back, I'd push forward, and nobody gave an inch.

We spent our whole lives being polite and miserable.

Then one day, my sister and I woke up on the afternoon they announced the engagements.

For two years, I was his secret.
On the court, Jace Calloway, the star shooting guard of Northgate University’s Division I team, treated me like a stranger. Off it, I was his girlfriend. He said hiding us was for my own good. I believed him.
Then, in my senior year, he threw the drink I bought him in the trash, in front of the whole team. He hinted I might have spiked it. And he handed my job as team manager to the girl he couldn’t stop smiling at.
They left me on the curb. They called me a bully. They clapped while I was replaced.
So I sent him one text: We’re over.
He thinks I’ll cool off. I always do.
But Jace never asked who paid for the team’s dream trip. He never asked what I gave up to stand on his sideline. He never really knew me at all.
By the time he figures it out, I’ll be on the other side of the ocean.

My husband Spencer quit his job to manage a rising model's career. In six months, she dropped the weight, blew up online, and turned into a supermodel — magazine covers, major runways, deal after deal.

Meanwhile, I watch myself expand by the day. Bloated. Double chin forming. Skin getting worse.

The whole world calls me greedy, lazy, out of control. Even my parents call to tell me to watch what I eat. And there's nothing I can say to make anyone understand.

Then one night, I catch them on the balcony, voices low, thinking no one can hear: "Forget about that fat cow. Once she drops dead, the house and the insurance are all ours."

That's when it finally makes sense.

Camille has a system tied to her. And it's tied to me.

Every pound I gain, she loses one.

I'm the fuel. The stepping stone. The inheritance they're waiting to collect.

She gets thin while I get fat?

So as long as I keep eating, she keeps losing weight?

Good.

I go ahead and spend a hundred grand booking a reclusive private chef for a full month. No limits on ingredients, price doesn't matter. The more extravagant, the better.

I'm going to eat whatever I want and actually enjoy my life.

Let's see how long she stays thin while I'm out here actually living my life.

At the company gala, in front of everyone, the man I'd been with for ten years asked me if he could have the first dance with the new intern.

I didn't argue.

I didn't make a scene.

I stepped aside, turned around, and walked out.

For ten years I'd been there.

The tiny apartment with no heat. The credit card debt I helped him pay off. Every rung of the ladder he climbed to get where he is.

I put up with his arrogance. I put up with being talked down to. Because once upon a time, he'd said he would love me for the rest of his life.

I knew him too well.

To him, my silence was just a sulk.

He was sure I couldn't leave him. Sure that, like every other time in the last ten years, I'd swallow it and come back around.

He was planning to propose on our tenth anniversary. Down on one knee, in front of all our family and friends.

He thought one diamond ring would make me forget every humiliation and bring me home.

What I never told him was that the night of the gala, I packed ten years of memories into a cardboard box and threw it in the trash.

On the day of our anniversary, when I still hadn't shown up, he had someone call to ask where I was.

I was at the airport, waiting to board a flight to the West Coast.

"Please tell him happy anniversary," I said evenly. "And tell him there won't be any more."

My birthday was never truly mine.

Everyone was busy making sure she was comfortable, happy, and protected.
When she deliberately handed me chamomile tea—knowing I was allergic—they told me not to hurt my sister’s good intentions and forced me to drink it.

My brother accused me of being jealous and locked me in the basement.

They all forgot about me to celebrate her birthday, even my fiancé.

Lying there, I realized something worse than pain—I was replaceable.

That was the day I understood the truth about my family.
I was dying on “my” birthday, and no one chose me.

To everyone in town, I was just a sixty-five-year-old retired man.
I lived in an old house, drove an old car, and showed up at the same diner every night to eat the cheapest meal on the menu in my usual corner.

Then one night, the waitress who always refilled my coffee sat across from me after closing, eyes red, and told me her boyfriend had disappeared.
People were watching her, pressuring her to hand over a “ledger” she had never even seen.

I wanted no part of it.
I had left that kind of life behind a long time ago, and I had sworn never to use my hands for anyone again.

But the next day, she didn’t show up for work.
Her phone was dead. She was gone.

I went into their territory alone.
They thought they were dealing with nothing more than a nosy old man.
By the time I started moving, they realized they had picked the wrong target.

They built a hundred-year name on a scholarship they stole from a dead girl.

This morning that name landed on my desk. Brooke Hale, applicant. One signature away from the federal clerkship her family has won, somehow, in every generation since 1962.

I'm the one who signs.

I wrote three words instead. Recommend denial. Then I sat with my hands flat on the file so they'd stop shaking.

The Hales think it's a cold case. A girl named Iris, ruled ineligible sixty years ago, gone quiet, gone poor, gone.

They don't know Iris was my great-grandmother.

They don't know I kept the letter.

In my first life, Alpha Damon Hawthorne rescued me, made me his mate, and poisoned me.

When I woke in the forest years earlier, I remembered enough to change one thing: this time, I would get my friend Selene to safety, let him find her, and leave.

He chose her. I asked for my freedom.

Then he broke my betrothal to another man and told me I had always been his.

Three years ago, the night before my wedding, I was kidnapped and nearly killed.

When I woke up, Julian was crying over me. "The kidnappers hurt you so badly, Elsie. The doctors—they had to remove your uterus to save you. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

My world shattered.

I cried for a week straight. Cried until I had no voice left, until my eyes couldn't open from the swelling. I'd lost everything—my chance at motherhood, my chance at being whole.

But Julian squeezed my hand. "I love you, Elsie. You're all I need."

He married me anyway. Against his family's wishes, he married this broken woman.

For three years, he was perfect. Gentle. Loving. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

Until today.

Today, I learned the truth—

There was no kidnapping. No random attack.

It was all planned. Orchestrated by Julian himself.

For one reason only—to give my uterus to Chloe, my sister who was born unable to have children.

On my first day at St. Clair University, my roommate Lysandra laughed at me in French.

Wrapped in designer logos, she called me a nobody who did not even recognize luxury perfume.

She thought I could not understand her.

She was wrong. French was my first language.

I was also Iris Russell, the hidden heir to the Russell Group.

But I kept that to myself.

Then Lysandra set me up at a Michelin-starred restaurant. With the manager's help, she placed a fake $450,000 bill in front of me and demanded humiliating photos to erase the debt.

They expected me to break.

Instead, I opened my phone and started a livestream.

By the time Lysandra learned who I was, the whole internet had seen her trap.

On the morning of the entrance exams, my parents locked me inside the family freezer to keep me from outshining Ethan.
They thought they were saving him from a prophecy.
By the time they realized the prophecy was a lie, I had already frozen to death with my hand still raised against the door.

All of a sudden there was a growl that ripped through the room and the band stopped playing and I heard something smash. Like it was a wooden chair or something.
Everyone looked in that direction and there was a man standing there that I had never noticed before. He would have been in his early 20's, brown hair to his shoulders, a brown goatee, 6-foot 6 at least and very defined muscles that were now tense as his intense gaze was staring directly at me and Mason.
But I didn't know who he was. I was frozen in the spot and this man was just staring at us with pure hatred in his eyes. But then I realized that the hatred was for Mason. Not me.
"Mine." He demanded.

Everyone thinks Nadia Hart is pure innocence—sweet, soft-spoken, and untouchable. She is the girl no one ever suspects of harboring dark, dangerous desires. Her best friend, Brielle, is the exact opposite: loud, reckless, and addicted to taking whatever—and whoever—she wants. Especially her own stepfather, Kane Vale.

Brielle treats Kane like a secret she owns. Nadia listens, pretending not to care. But behind her quiet smile lies a dirty secret: Kane isn't a stranger. Long before Brielle brought her home, Nadia shared an uninhibited night with him in the dark.

The moment Kane sees Nadia in his house, recognition burns through him. He knows exactly who she is, and he’s been waiting for her to break. What starts with a covert midnight rendezvous and a near-catch by a sleepwalking Brielle quickly spirals into a taboo dynamic. When Nadia catches Brielle and Kane in the act the next afternoon, Brielle doesn't back down—she pulls Nadia deeper into the fire, convincing her to join them in a boundary-pushing threesome......

Warning Matured Content [Rated +18]

Randall lifted the veil I was wearing and gently pressed his soft lips against mine. I closed my eyes.

“I am so pleased to present the newlyweds, Randall Adams and Winter Harris Adams!”

I yearn after I open my eyes. It is just a dream. But that didn't happen because rising my eyes, only the click, the light of the camera, and the applause of the people popped into my depressed eyes.

Randall, the handsome billionaire, stands beside me, claiming that we have been a pair of lovers for so long.

But I don't recognize him.

Because I lost my memory.

The third girl knelt between his legs, planting slow, teasing kisses across his abs, their warm breath mixing with the haze of smoke in the room.

The dim, colored lights bathed their bodies in a sultry glow, and the pounding music created a rhythmic beat to their movements.

Damian’s head lolled back lazily as he took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling seductively around him. He exhaled slowly, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure and disinterest, as if none of this was new to him.

The door suddenly creaked open.

"Ugh, what the hell is this?!" a startled female voice pierced through the music.

I used to be the Rosewood family's most beloved youngest daughter, until they took in Sabrina as their adopted daughter and everything changed.
My family said Sabrina's father saved my life, that I owed her everything. They forced me to donate blood for Sabrina until I was drained dry, demanded I give her my heart, and I died a miserable death on Christmas Eve.
As I lay dying, I could still hear them discussing how to throw Sabrina 'a unique Christmas party' to celebrate her recovery.
When I opened my eyes again, I'd been reborn, sent back to the day they first forced me to donate blood years ago.
This time, I yanked out the needle myself and slammed the family severance papers at their shocked faces. "The papers are signed. From now on, I have nothing to do with the Rosewoods."
Later, I became Nicholas Harrington's bride, taking on the surname that commanded worldwide respect. My designs swept across the globe, my name shining on the international stage, while the Rosewood family went bankrupt. My brothers knelt outside the Harrington estate, sobbing and begging for my forgiveness.
I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching coldly. Nicholas wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting gently against my hair, and murmured adoringly, "My princess, I've acquired the Rosewood family. It's yours now."

I've buried three fiancés in six months.

What's one more, right?

Killing him should have been easy.

I've had a gun to his head. A knife to his throat. I've watched him sleep and pictured every way I could end it.

But every single time, he looks at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. And smiles anyway.

Raffaele Fierro is either the bravest man I've ever met or the most dangerous. I'm starting to think he's both.

What I didn't count on was him knowing my darkest secret — and using it to own me.
He knows I killed his brothers. All three of them.

And he still wants me.

What kind of man does that?

And now, I can't decide which one I want more — to finally pull the trigger.
Or to let him ruin me completely.

Incubi were all the rage these days.
I couldn't afford one, so I picked one up off the street instead.
Unfortunately, mine seemed to be defective.
He had a terrible attitude, showed absolutely no interest in me, and would rather starve than feed on magical energy the way a proper incubus was supposed to.
Eventually, I gave up trying to figure him out myself.
I took a picture of the glowing sigil on his lower abdomen and sent it to an online seller who specialized in magical familiars.
The seller nearly lost her mind.
[MA'AM, PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE JOKING! THAT IS NOT AN INCUBUS!]
[THAT'S A DEMON. AND NOT JUST ANY DEMON. THAT'S ONE OF THE WORST KINDS!]

Everyone knew my twin sister wouldn't live past eighteen. So they gave her all the love, leaving me to survive in the shadows.
When I suffered a asthma attack on our birthday, my mother locked me in the basement.
"Stop faking it. Don't ruin your sister's last birthday," my mother hissed.
She thought I was throwing a tantrum for attention.
She was wrong.
I died on the cold concrete floor while they sang Happy Birthday upstairs.
Now, I am just a ghost floating in our living room. I watch my parents complain about my selfishness. I watch them make empty promises to treat me better tomorrow.
They don't know there is no tomorrow for me...

"First, unlimited funds. Second, you clean up every mess I make. Third, keep out of my private life."
Those were the arrogant demands my student laid out when I, the top art professor in New York, offered to make him my exclusive protégé.
The entire faculty gasped. No one dared speak to a Voss heiress like that.
Instead, looking at his face, I gave a slow, quiet nod.
"Agreed," I whispered. "Just make sure you never ruin that face."
He thought I was just another rich, desperate woman blinded by love. He spent my money, flaunted his little girlfriend in my face, and trampled all over my dignity, thinking I would never let him go.
He forgot one crucial detail about being a substitute.
The moment the original returns... the fake becomes worthless.

Rule #1 of cheating: Always turn off your personal hotspot!
Text from Jaxon (7:00 PM): “Coach is killing us tonight. Stuck at practice. Wish I was at the concert with you, future wifey. 🥺”
My iPhone (8:30 PM): Connected to Jaxon’s Personal Hotspot.
My heart flatlined.
As fate would have it, the stage spotlight hit my face. The singer handed me a mic.
Instead of playing the lucky fan, I turned the concert into a massive manhunt.
The jumbotron found him in Section 104.
He wasn't alone.
When the cameras exposed his panicked face and the blonde in his arms, I gave him the ultimate send-off in front of a live audience:
"I'm officially dropping you. You two deserve each other. Match made in hell. "

Eight years ago, I formed a mate bond with Alpha Lucian Blackwood, ruler of the Silver Fang Pack, and became his Luna.
I thought it was a blessing from the Moon Goddess.
Only when he brought home that sick she-wolf, Jasmine Moon, did I finally understand.
I was nothing but a substitute.
A tool meant to take care of him and his son.
And now, they wanted me to hand over even the last of my dignity.

Have you ever been treated like a stand-in for your dead sibling by your own mother? I have.

Have you ever been murdered by your own mother? I have.

My name is Aira, and today is my sister Lily's birthday. It's also the anniversary of my death—the day the washing machine became my coffin.

"Why couldn't it have been you who died?"

After four long years, my mom finally got her wish.

After my eighth trip to the psychiatric ward, I finally became the perfect, obedient wife my husband always wanted—even when I caught his childhood friend giving him a handjob in our living room.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Eric snapped, his eyes dark with irritation. "If those hands are useless, might as well chop them off." Without a word, I grabbed a kitchen knife and raised it toward my wrist. He kicked it away, screaming at me to stop being dramatic. So, I turned and charged headfirst toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

When I woke up, I heard him laughing with her. "She's fine. Just another attention stunt." He didn't know that the "treatment" he authorized had broken my mind into a million jagged pieces. He didn't know about the shock collars, the waterboarding, the dark cells. He thought I was finally "cured" of my jealousy.

It wasn't until a rafting trip, when his friend pushed me into the rapids and my prosthetic eye popped out and rolled across the deck, that his world shattered. As he stared at the empty black socket where my left eye used to be, he finally realized what those facilities had done to me. He dropped to his knees, screaming my name, but the woman who loved him was already dead.

Will his tears be enough to bring back the wife he destroyed, or is this just the beginning of his hell?

Six months after our breakup, I ran into my ex-boyfriend, Arlo, at the Beach Club's VIP party.
His new girlfriend, Calliope, tapped her champagne flute to demand everyone's attention.
"Let’s propose a toast to Arlo, who finally crawled out of his pathetic past."
Arlo wrapped his arm around Calliope and threw a mocking glance at my dress.
"The smartest thing I ever did was letting that charity case pay off my fifty-grand car loan."
"Once I got my Varsity jacket, I dumped her for my actual queen."
A collective gasp ripped through the room.
Everyone thought I would storm out in tears, but I just smiled and signaled for the show to go on.
"What exactly are you raising a glass to, Juno?"
I leaned back in my chair and looked at her calmly.
"I’m just celebrating that you guys are having fun on my turf."
"YOUR turf?"

The winter I was eight, I found my own face in a trash can.
It was on a missing-child flyer. The girl on it had been gone five years. She had a birthmark on the back of her neck.
So did I.
There was a reward. A number with a long row of zeros. I didn't want it.
I was cold. I hadn't eaten since yesterday.
I just wanted a mom.
So that night, with a stranger's coins, I called the number at the bottom.
A woman answered on the first ring and screamed a name at me like it was mine.
She got to say it three times.
Then a hand came out of the dark behind me and hung up the phone for me.

My husband is sleeping with my own sister. Cliché, right? I drove to Black Pine Lake to catch them, but stumbled into a brilliantly twisted murder trap instead. Now, the cops think I am a jealous, psychotic killer. Declan believes he dug the perfect grave for me. But did he?

Three months after my miscarriage, at the celebration dinner he hosts for my "recovery," he tells his partners in French, "She's just a trophy wife. Doesn't understand basic business."

"What about that new assistant? The twenty-two-year-old?"

"So much smarter," he laughs. "And in bed? Way more exciting."

They think I don't understand. To everyone here, I'm just the stay-at-home wife who gave up her VP position at an investment bank to play house.

They don't know I minored in French. I spent a full year studying abroad at the Sorbonne.

As I lay in the operating room, bleeding out from the miscarriage, he was already seeing her.

Je comprends tout. I understand everything.

Over the champagne and candlelight, I smile at him.

He has no idea this is the last time he'll ever see it.

I have been the Donna of the Smith family for nine years-all in name. I took my deceased twin sister Lily's place, caring for her daughter Emma, and living with a husband, David, who doesn't love me.

Over these nine years, I treated Emma like my own daughter, but she always saw me as the murderer who killed her mother, not knowing that it was her mother who took my marriage and my husband.

She shoved me publicly, calling me a murderer, even using the gun I gave her to shoot my only solace—a little bird.

But David, the man I loved, also favors Lily and her child. Every time he looks at me, it's with coldness and distance.

For Joey, I shouldered the blame for a commercial crime and survived five years behind bars—alone, even through a miscarriage.

With only five days left on my sentence, his secretary flaunted a “bonus” transfer from him—521,314—and when I left one mild comment, she blocked me.

I got released early on Christmas, wanting to surprise my husband. Instead, I pushed open our bedroom door and found Joey and Betty in our marital bed, deep in their sick little games.

And then I overheard a phone call that shattered everything: my little sister, Sansa, hadn’t died from a surgical “accident” at all. Joey had bribed the surgeon and had her heart cut out—so his mistress could gain a werewolf’s healing ability and keep having some perverted sex on bed.

He lied to me, used me, murdered my sister—and still mocked me for I was nothing without him.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m the daughter of an Alpha. I cut my family off for him once. Now I’m taking everything back—divorce,

Kael Varez spent his entire life being treated like dirt, mocked for being poor, humiliated for being fatherless and discarded by the woman he loved the moment a richer man appeared.

But on the night his dying mother whispers a terrifying secret, Kael’s world changes forever because the assassins hunting him believed that he is the missing heir to a brutal underground empire built on blood, power and fear.

Now, trapped in a deadly world where loyalty is bought and betrayal hides behind every smile, Kael must survive ruthless enemies, dangerous alliances and a family that wants him erased before he can uncover the truth about who he really is but the deeper he falls into the darkness, the more he begins to change.

So when the bastard everyone once despised finally rises, will he destroy the empire or become something even worse than the men hunting him?

In a world ruled by powerful werewolf bloodlines, one name was never meant to exist again.

Elias Ashford.

Born during the terrifying Blood Moon Eclipse, Elias was feared from the moment he took his first breath. Whispers followed him his entire life cursed child, monster, omen of destruction. Even his own father, the ruthless Alpha Darius Ashford, hid dark secrets about the night Elias was born.

But everything changes when Elias meets Vivienne Silvercrest the daughter of a rival bloodline and the girl tied to him by a forbidden bond older than history itself What begins as a dangerous mate connection soon awakens something ancient buried deep beneath the werewolf world.

An ancient kingdom erased from history A forgotten throne A power capable of destroying gods As mysterious enemies known as the Black Moon Order rise from the shadows, Elias discovers the horrifying truth:

He is not just a cursed Alpha.

He is the reincarnation of the First Alpha the legendary King of the Void, a being so powerful the Moon Goddess herself betrayed and sealed him centuries ago Now the seals are breaking Monsters buried beneath the earth are awakening Ancient prophecies are coming alive.

And Vivienne may be the only person capable of either saving Elias or destroying him forever.

Bound by love, hunted by fate, and surrounded by betrayal, Elias and Vivienne must uncover the truth behind the curse before the world falls into darkness again.

But some curses were never meant to be broken.

And some kings were never meant to return.

My grandfather was a thief.

He did not steal money.

He stole my grandmother's name, her return papers, and the life that should have carried her out of the mountains.

Fifty years later, his granddaughter sat across from me in a law firm interview and smiled like the world already belonged to her.

I opened her file, saw the family name, and closed the folder.

"You didn't pass."

Aria lost her ten fingers and her entire future to a pair of fake lovers in her past life. Reborn before the crucial music competition, she abandons her role as a shadow pianist and picks up her abandoned violin again. With bleeding fingers and a death wish for revenge, she teams up with Adrian, the ruthless piano tyrant of Juilliard Prep. They burn down the perfect reputation of the hypocritical genius who once ruined her. Broken strings can be re-tuned. Broken talent always plays louder than lies.

When Daniel and Melissa's marriage imploded, Grace and I were ten.

They fought wildly in family court for Grace, screaming until they were blue in the face. Then, the judge looked down from the bench and asked about my custody.

Crickets. Total, suffocating silence.

They eventually agreed to split time. In a thirty-one-day month, they meticulously counted hours, practically drawing blood to see who got Grace for the 31st day. I was just the invisible ghost taking up space in the backseat.

Now that we are eighteen, I've secured a full scholarship to Harvard. While they toast to Grace's adulthood in a room full of guests, my bag is packed.

My flight to Boston leaves in two hours. It's a one-way ticket.

Lena was once the child everyone protected. Then one accident turned her into the villain of her own family. When her sister’s celebration leaves her alone, poisoned, and accused again, Lena makes a quiet decision: ten days, ten marks, and she will disappear before they ever realize what they lost.

Every time my adopted sister, Ivy, and I had a disagreement, my fiancé and my brother would always call for a "democratic vote."
When choosing our marital home, I wanted the historic townhouse in Beacon Hill, close to my parents. Ivy wanted the luxury penthouse in the Seaport District because it was more vibrant.
Deadlocked, we put it to a vote.
William, my fiancé, raised his hand first. "You're too rigid, Charlotte. You don't understand how to enjoy life. I agree with Ivy."
My brother patted my head. "Don't be selfish. Seaport is closer to Ivy's office. She can easily come stay with you when she's tired."
Three to one. Once again, I was forced to compromise.
 
And when Ivy wanted the massive south-facing master suite in my new house to build her walk-in closet?
"Let's vote to keep things fair," my fiancé, William, declared.
I was a rising architect at Boston's most prestigious firm, yet I didn't even have the right to design my own marital home.
Unsurprisingly, Ivy won unanimously.
Leaving me, the bride, with a master bedroom barely half the size of my adopted sister's closet.
 
Out of more than a hundred family votes over the last ten years:
My fiancé's votes for me: Zero.
My own brother's votes for me: Zero.
Since this was a rigged game of scales that would never tip in my favor... I choose to quit.
Let them play their little voting game without me.

"Sign the Brooklyn house over to Isla. I'll cover your tuition next semester."

Gabriel didn't look up. Just sat there in his leather chair like he was doing me a favor.

My mother grabbed my sleeve. "She has depression, Rachel. She just needs a studio. Why are you making this so hard?"

I looked at her, then at him. That house was the only thing my father left me when he died. The only thing. And my stepbrother was sitting in his leather chair, offering me a trade like it was nothing.

"That house is the only thing my father left me," I said. "You know that."

Gabriel finally looked up. "I know. Sign anyway."

My mother tightened her grip on my sleeve. I shook her off.

"Give me the pen."

I signed. Grabbed my suitcase — packed for three days — and walked out.

I had nowhere to go. I didn't care.

EXCERPT:
"You are mine!", he screamed at me with a scowl on his handsome face,
"I wasn't yours when you rejected me that morning", I tried my best to mirror his features but I failed miserably. He placed a small smirk on his face, his scowl leaving as he closed the gap between us and placed his hand on my waist, making a shiver run up my spine,
"You were always mine, Brea", he pulled me closer to him and buried his head in my neck, inhaling my scent and defying my personal space, "And you will always be mine". I felt his teeth scraping my shoulder blade- he was going to mark me and I didn't have the willpower to stop him...
"Mummy!", my son's voice snapped me out of my intoxicated trance and I took a quick step away from the man who had always been a stranger to me. I gathered my boy into my hands and placed him on my hip before looking towards the man again. He had shock written all over his face as he blinked vigorously,
"Is that...", he drew off,
"Ours? Yes", I wanted to lie to him, tell him the child in my arms wasn't his, maybe he would feel the same pain I felt the day he rejected me...


Brea Adler, rejected by her mate and her entire pack is forced to leave after she could not put up with it anymore. She ends up in another pack with an Alpha, Brennon Kane who treats her like a queen and they instantly fall in love.

What happens five years later when her mate and former Alpha, Jax Montero visits her new pack to discuss pack issues? What happens when he finds out she has a child for him?