4555 Book(s) Related to too late my ex husband

I gave up five years of my marriage for nothing.

My son is dead. He died on his fifth birthday, waiting for his father to come home. But instead of his dad, a car accident took him. And his father? He was a thousand miles away, with another woman.

For five years, I put up with my husband's coldness and his family's constant humiliation. I thought having a child would melt his icy heart. I was wrong—so terribly, laughably wrong.

He couldn't even focus at our son's funeral—his eyes were only for his old flame, his "true love." It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that he finally shed those fake tears of regret. But it was too late. My child was gone. My love had died. And soon, I would be gone too.

This marriage, this whole life—it's all been one big joke. I just want to find my son as soon as I can. To tell him that his mother never gave up on him. To promise him that in another world, we'll never be apart again.

When Claire lost their unborn child, Ethan was in Finland—with another woman.
He didn’t ask why she had gone to the hospital. He only demanded that she visit his mother, surrender their bedroom to his beautiful colleague, and stop “making a scene.”
Then he destroyed the last piece of art Claire’s mother had left behind and locked Claire in a room while she begged him to take her to the hospital.
So Claire left her engagement ring on the counter and disappeared.
By the time Ethan learned the truth, she had already built a new life beneath the northern lights.
Now he is ready to sacrifice everything to win her back.
But some apologies arrive after love is already gone.

On my first day back in the country after studying abroad, my mother sent me to my fiancé’s company. I was to work low-profile as a secretary, just to slowly cultivate our relationship.
The moment I stepped into the office, a domineering woman started ordering me around, demanding I fetch her coffee.
I endured it.
That was until she deliberately spilled the coffee all over me. Only then did I realize that this woman—running amok in my fiancé’s company and treated like a queen by everyone—was his mistress.

"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage.
We had been married for exactly three years—three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment.
For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage.
Today, I finally received his message:
"I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport."
When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined—he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend.
In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air.
Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken—to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again.
He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end—almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be.
"Aurora, come back. I regret everything!"
Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me—only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

He left without breathing a word of it to you, and you still believe he's gonna come back? How sure are you?"

I didn't speak, cause I'm not sure..

"What if he doesn't come back until your baby is born? Let's say two years later?"

"I don't know" I shook my head.

Arthur sighed.

"I spoke with my dad before coming here, he said it'll be dangerous for you if you keep it"

Doctor Morris is his dad, I forgot to mention that.

"It's better you abort now, it might cost your life..you know about your cervical condition"

I blinked and looked away from him, my gaze focused on the rain.

"That's all the more reason I shouldn't abort it. Who knows if I'll ever be able to conceive again?"

He didn't say anything after I said those words.. he sighed.

"I told you not to trust college boys, but you paid no attention.. now you've been played" he grumbled.

He opened an umbrella, which I didn't know he was holding.. then led me to his car.

He opened the door for me and I slide into the passenger door, he rushed to the driver's side as I was fastening my seatbelt.

"Whatever your decision is, I'll stand by you!" He said.

After ten years together, Ethan Caldwell, head of New York's Caldwell crime family, finally proposed.

Then, a week before the wedding, my eighteen-year-old self traveled ten years into the future and met the woman I'd become.

Still wearing her school sweatshirt, she beamed at me. “Claire Bennett! Are you and Ethan married already?”

She walked through the foyer, looking around the three-story house that was supposed to become our marital home. Outside the window, two guards in dark suits stood beside the iron gates.

“So you went back to the Caldwell family with him after all?”

I didn't answer. Still holding on to a little hope, she continued farther into the house.

“Three stories. Good. Just what I wanted.”

“And there's a garden. Not bad. But why are there roses instead of sunflowers? I don't like roses.”

The farther she went, the more she frowned.

“Didn't I say I wanted a movie room where I could curl up and watch films?”

“And didn't Ethan promise he'd be home with me by ten every night? It's ten thirty. Where is he?”

Everyone thinks I'm the wild child of the family, the one who won't fall in line.

Blake's the young king of the business world—rational, cold, always in those perfectly cut suits.

But every night, he's got me pinned underneath him, breathing my name.

He said I was his, but never let me see daylight. Until she came back—my father's mistress's daughter, in her white dress, smiling like an angel.

On my birthday, he went to pick her up from the airport. When the chandelier crashed down, he carried her to the hospital and left me bleeding on the floor. When she smashed my mother's heirloom, he made me apologize on my knees. He said she was fragile, needed care; said I was strong enough to understand.

Then I heard them on my bed, her moaning his name.

So I left. Married a man who truly loved me. And he went insane.

He kidnapped me, forced a wedding, announced to the world I was his wife.

But this time, I just smiled and shook my head.

"Let go. It's too late."

A loving sister, a talented dancer, a loyal lover—I was once all of these. Until a fatal night turned my family and fiancé against me. Framed for a murder I never committed, I spent six hellish years in prison, crippled and terminally ill, while my stepsister stole my life, my love, and my glory. After I escaped to live out my final days in peace, my betrayers hunted me down to trample on my last hope. No longer the gentle girl they abandoned, I will drag every hidden crime into the light and destroy the perfect lives they built on my suffering.

I died on the day I was supposed to marry Grayson.
Because my sister Delilah had her heart "broken," my family decided to bring her to our farm in Ashwood to heal through horseback riding. The wedding was postponed.
I lay in the stable at the Clarke family farm, dialing my mother's number with blood-covered fingers.
All she said was: "What kind of game are you playing now? You think if you act pitiful we'll come running? Vivienne, enough!"
My fiancé Grayson was even more brutal: "It's just a postponement, not a cancellation. If you can't handle that, then let's just call the whole thing off—I'll marry Delilah instead."
This was the last time they would disappoint me.
And the last time I would call for help.
I lay in my own pool of blood, already without breath. They thought I was just throwing a tantrum, hiding somewhere to sulk. They thought if they ignored me long enough, I'd come crawling back to apologize.
But they didn't know.
I was already dead.

What if the man who once risked his life to save yours became the one who destroyed it?
When billionaire heiress Victoria Hale is saved from a brutal attack by ambitious executive Ethan Cole, gratitude blossoms into a whirlwind romance. Against their families' wishes, they marry, believing love can overcome every obstacle.
Three years later, their dream life is crumbling. Infertility strains their marriage, Ethan's company teeters on the edge of bankruptcy, and a dangerous business deal binds him to another woman.
Just when Victoria discovers she's carrying the child they had prayed for, a devastating accident changes everything. Betrayed by the man she trusted most and framed for a crime she never committed, she loses not only her marriage but also the life she thought she knew.
Forced to disappear, Victoria begins again under a new identity, unaware that an even darker secret has tied her fate to the people who ruined her. As buried lies, blood ties, and long-hidden betrayals begin to unravel, those who conspired against her discover that some truths can never stay buried.
But when the past finally catches up with them, will Ethan uncover the truth before he loses Victoria forever... or has fate already written an ending that no amount of regret can change?

Ava Davis's POV:

I had just walked out of the abortion clinic when I got a call from John Williams' assistant.

"Ms. Davis, we've got a problem. Mr. Williams was photographed with four women at the same time, and the pictures are all over the internet. Reporters have blocked the company entrance."

I closed my eyes, feeling utterly exhausted.

My lower abdomen still ached, like something had been carved out of my body, but what hurt more was my heart—already battered and bruised by this marriage.

"Got it. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

After hanging up, I stuffed the medical records into my bag and walked out of the hospital. The sun outside was so bright I could barely open my eyes.

I raised my hand to shield them, suddenly remembering the first time I met John—the sun had been just as harsh that day.

I was only eighteen then, still a student, handing out flyers on the street when I got heatstroke. I was dizzy and about to collapse when John happened to pass by and caught me.

I remember his eyes—clear as lake water. His high cheekbones, thin lips pressed together with a hint of careless detachment.

In that moment, I fell. Like something had struck my heart, and from then on, there was no turning back.

Looking back now, I was pathetically stupid.

I'd been John's secretary for three years, helping him handle countless scandals. Few people knew that I'd actually been married to him for three years.

In our first year of marriage, he brought a female celebrity home for the night.

I remember sitting in the living room that night, waiting until 3 AM, hearing laughter from the bedroom.

I didn't push the door open. I just sat on the couch all night.

After that, it happened more and more, until I went numb.

Fiona Harper devoted her entire youth to loving Carlos Morton, but Carlos hated her, loathing her heartlessness for refusing to donate a deceased person's heart.
He said, "Since you refuse to let Debbie Harper regain her health, everything I want to give her, you shall bear!"
Until the bloody truth was laid bare before his eyes, he realized that the love he intended to give her could never return to what it once was...

On the day Carter and I remarried, our son Finn had been in the hospital for forty days.

The line at City Hall was long. Carter spent the whole time with his head down, texting, wearing a smile I hadn't seen on him in years.

The person on the other end was Wren Dalton, an art student getting by on a scholarship and part-time jobs. She'd turned Carter down three times. When he sent her a full set of art supplies, she shipped it back untouched with a note: Leave me alone.

Carter said nobody had ever treated him like that before.

The look in his eyes when he said it was the same look he used to give me, back when he was trying to win me over more than ten years ago.

I didn't call him out on it. The last time we divorced, I fought with everything I had and still walked away without a dime or a job. I walked out on him, and he still found a way to drag me back.

After City Hall, Carter dropped me off at the hospital and said he wouldn't be home that night. I nodded and watched his car pull away.

Around midnight, our housekeeper sent me a video. It was from our house: Carter carrying Wren up the stairs toward the bedroom, and her laughing, bright and happy.

Everyone was waiting for me to cry. But this time, I just pushed my ring down to the base of my finger so it wouldn't slip off.

What they didn't know was that this remarriage was an act. Sooner or later, I'd be the one to take that ring off.

The mild concussion from my car accident had left me with a splitting headache.
I lay in my hospital bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever before finally picking up my phone and texting my boyfriend, Rowan.
"Can you come to the hospital and keep me company for a while today?"
Half an hour later, he replied.
"I'm busy right now."
Rowan was New York's hottest rising avant-garde photographer. Outsiders marveled at his uncanny ability to capture the human soul, but as his girlfriend, I only ever felt suffocated.
He was always complaining that my emotions were too intense and would contaminate his inspiration.
That was why, for three whole years, I had never been allowed to set foot inside his red-brick photography studio in Brooklyn.
To avoid disturbing his precious "creative flow," I had even called myself a cab to the emergency room when my fever once spiked to 104 degrees Fahrenheit.
Not once had I dared to bother him.
It wasn't until after I was discharged that I finally worked up the courage to visit his studio.
The door was slightly ajar.
A woman was reclining on the sofa, posing for a photograph.
Rowan stood in front of her, camera raised, capturing every angle.
I stepped closer for a better look, only to realize who she was.
His ex-girlfriend, Vivian Hart.

"We can't," I gasped, even as my body arched into his. "Finnegan, we—"
"Shut up," he growled against my skin, recapturing my lips. This kiss was slower, deeper, weighted with all the words we couldn't say.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. My lips were swollen, and my usually immaculate hair was disheveled. I was trapped between his body and the desk as I knew he was unwilling to let this moment end just yet.
"This changes nothing," I whispered, but my voice lacked conviction.
He smiled against my temple, a cold, knowing smile. "It changes everything, Ophelia. You just don't know it yet."

Ophelia tried every way to keep her distance from her boss as well as her ex-boyfriend while keeping her daughter a secret from him. Finnegan Shaw, being Ophelia's mysterious husband, had fallen in love again with Ophelia while refusing to let her off so easily after her betrayal six years ago.

When they face their true feelings, how would they choose? What awaits them is a wonderful yet unknown journey back to love.

I crawled out of a mental hospital in the middle of the night—bleeding, broken, and desperate to see my husband.

Instead, I found him toasting champagne with the sister who put me there.

My daughter was starved in an orphanage. My father died alone, his grave unmarked.

And my husband? He threw me back into the snow to die.

A stranger pulled me from the cold. He didn’t offer comfort. He offered a choice.

“Do you want to make them pay?”

Now the man who buried me is begging on his knees. But hell taught me one thing:

Some sins don’t deserve forgiveness.

I was accused of cheating the moment I became pregnant.
My husband, Ryan Xavier, had been diagnosed infertile, yet he believed the child was not his. He divorced me without hesitation and destroyed my reputation, even though I had never betrayed him. The truth surfaced too late. The doctor admitted he had made a serious mistake and implanted the wrong embryo. The baby I was carrying belonged to Kian Xavier, Ryan's identical twin and the most feared billionaire in the city.
With no way out, I accepted Kian's offer of a one-year contract marriage meant only to protect the child. There was supposed to be no love and no intimacy, but feelings were never part of the plan. When Ryan learned the truth, the man who once abandoned me became obsessed with taking me back and tearing my new life apart. Then came the final truth. I was carrying twins conceived from the same accident, but with different fathers. One child belonged to Kian, the other to Ryan. Trapped between two brothers, I had no escape and no easy choice.

Lucia Balstone thought she had chosen the right man to spend the rest of her life with, but he was the one who ended her life. Their ten-year marriage seemed like a joke when her husband stabbed her with a dagger.
Fortunately, God is never blind to people's tears.
Lucia got a second chance. She was reborn at the age of 22, before all the terrible things had happened.
This time, she was determined to avenge herself and let those who hurt her pay!
She made an elaborate list of her goals, and the first thing on her list was to marry her ex-husband's enemy, Alonso Callen!

My whole body began to quiver as I looked up at Ryan who wore a smug or was it? I couldn't tell as my vision was blurred with tears.

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?!.

"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"

"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired. It was as if I didn't want to believe what the paper read until Ryan says it with his own mouth.

A part of me still wanted to fight for whatever we still have left; still wanted to protect our marriage.

But then he'd said it. Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded," I want a divorce, Ciara"


Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.

Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.

But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.

What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

Find out in this long rollacoaster ride!

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?
"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"
"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired.
Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded,"I want a divorce, Ciara"
Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.
Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5 years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.
But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.
What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

Five years ago, Magnus Ashford shattered Vivienne Marlowe’s world, throwing her out with nothing but divorce papers on their anniversary. The love they once shared was destroyed by betrayal, and Vivienne vowed never to look back—especially with the secret she carried: their twin sons. Now, a renowned neurosurgeon, Vivienne has rebuilt her life, raising her children alone.

But fate has a way of forcing the past to resurface. Magnus’s beloved grandmother suffers a life-threatening stroke, and the only surgeon who can save her is none other than Vivienne. When their worlds collide once again, old wounds are reopened, and Magnus is determined to make things right.

"You have no idea how much I regret what I did," Magnus confesses, his voice thick with remorse. "But I swear, I'll do anything to make it right."

Vivienne meets his gaze, her heart heavy with a truth she's kept buried for too long. "Some things can never be fixed, Magnus."

But there’s one thing he doesn't know… their sons his sons are right under his nose. And Vivienne is about to make a choice that will change everything.

Will Magnus uncover the truth before it’s too late, or will his regrets be buried forever?

I thought the orchestrated assault was the most profound betrayal of my life. Then, from the shadows of the wine cellar, I heard my husband and his brothers toasting to their success.
"The slow-motion capture of her climax, paired with those broken whimpers... it was cinematic perfection."
"She played her part beautifully. After all, she’s just a Valenti."
I learned the devastating truth: my agony was their scripted entertainment. My husband. The director.
He married me to claim his inheritance.
He branded me to mark his property.
He caused my miscarriage in that dungeon, coldly calling it "tidying up loose ends."
But they overlooked one ancient law—the Moretti blood oath: should the Don betray his vows, everything becomes his wife's.
Now, I stand in the penthouse of his casino.
My fingers trace the scar on my shoulder—now transformed into a dagger.
"Darling, you celebrated the anniversary of your production. My gift to you is a lifetime behind bars."
Now, the final cut is mine.

I was snatched at three.
By fourteen, I was missing both legs, half-deaf, and half-blind.
When my billionaire blood family finally brought me to their Texas ranch, the fake heiress cornered me.
"Try any tricks to steal my place," she sneered, "and I’ll break your legs."
I just unhooked my prosthetics and let them drop to the floor.
When my biological brother grabbed my shoulder, hissing a warning in my ear to stay in line, I tapped my skull and yelled, "What?! This ear is entirely dead! I can't hear you!"
They both backed away, looking at me like they’d seen a ghost.
A few days later, the fake heiress threw herself down a staircase to frame me—and accidentally tore my shirt open.
The whole party froze. My back was a horrific map of trafficker brands and whip scars.
My parents pulled me into their arms, trembling violently. "Who did this to you?!"
"It wasn't me! Don't try to pin that on me!" the fake daughter shrieked in panic.
I nodded slowly. She was right. The traffickers did it.
I was the only kid who crawled out of their hellfire alive.
And I promised the kids who burned that I would make our monsters pay.

Blood pooled beneath Eloise's head just moments after she discovered the truth about her husband. The man she built her world around wanted nothing more than to destroy her. He stole everything, her company, her pride, her future, and left her to die. But as the darkness closed in on her, fate offered a second chance.

**

Now she is back, with bloodstained memories and a thirst for revenge. Desperate and broken, she made a deal with the devil, a man powerful enough to hand her the weapons.

But his help comes at a price.

To be owned by him. For four months. A strict deal with no strings or feelings attached. But nothing about him is simple. He's infuriating, intoxicating, and every second with him chips away at her control.

What starts as business quickly spirals into a dangerous game of possession, secrets, and desire. And when hearts get involved, the real cost becomes something more than she bargained for.

He’s the last man she should trust… and the only one who makes her lose control.

My husband hasn't touched me in five years. He claims he has a rare, violent allergy to women.
So when I was slipping off a cliff, he let me fall into a freezing river rather than grab my bare hand.
I lost our baby.
Three days later, I caught him rubbing another woman's ankle with his bare hands. His eyes were full of love.
So much for the rare allergy. It only applies to the woman you don’t love.
I dropped the divorce papers on his desk. "I want out."
He thought I was bluffing. But what happens when the "chaste" billionaire realizes the wife he threw away is the one who found for many years?

Three years ago, billionaire Theodore Chambers handed Victoria Ellis divorce papers with cold eyes and colder words—all for the sake of his first love, Isabella Waters.
Victoria didn't cry. She didn't beg.
She simply signed her name, walked out of that golden cage, and disappeared from the world of the rich.
What the world didn't expect…
Was for the discarded ex-wife to rise from the ashes—not as a socialite, but as the world's most sought-after reconstructive mortician. Behind every high-profile crime scene and closed casket, she was the one restoring dignity to the dead—and building a name powerful enough to shake law enforcement and the elite alike.
Now, at a funeral of all places, their paths cross again.
She stands beside another man, radiant, untouchable.
He watches in disbelief—his ex-wife, no longer his.
"You handle corpses every day. Aren't you afraid of bad luck?" he growls, grabbing her wrist.
She smiles coldly.
"In my heart, the grass over your grave has already grown two meters tall."
But fate has one final card to play.
When Victoria finds Theodore lying in a pool of blood, clutching an old photo of her, everything unravels.
Was it too late after all?
Or is love just another body she's not willing to reconstruct?

[Divorce + Empowered Female Lead + Hidden Identity + Regretful Ex]
After the divorce, Alexander Brooks regretted it so much he could barely stand it!
How did his formerly dull and uninteresting ex-wife unexpectedly become so impressive?
The nation's top actor treats her like his sister, powerful elites can't stop thinking about her, and rising tech stars call her their mentor...
Not only that, but the miracle doctor, top-tier hacker, and world-class pianist he'd spent years searching for?
All her.
Alexander rekindles his determination and embarks on the long road to win back his ex-wife.
To his relentless persistence, Eira Johnson responds:
Him? Too broke for me. Not my type anymore.

"She doesn't even have a place to stay. She’d never dare to divorce me," my husband sneered, reassuring his mistress.

On the day of the horrific car crash, I was trapped inside a burning vehicle, screaming for help. My husband ignored my cries, picked up his mistress, and walked away without looking back.

That was the moment my heart died. I signed the divorce papers and vanished from his life.

But a month later, the very man who had treated me with absolute coldness was on his knees before me, his eyes bloodshot with tears.

This time, it’s his turn to beg.

He made me wait ten minutes. My mother died in those ten minutes.
For eight years, I gave Damien Cross everything. My career. My paycheck. Every deal I ever closed, signed in his favor. I chased him through college and followed him to Chicago. In thirty days, I was supposed to become Mrs. Cross.
That same day, he left me waiting at my desk to drive his best friend’s little sister to the doctor. All for a cough. He thought I’d still walk down the aisle. He’d always thought I’d show up, no matter what.
So the day before our wedding, I boarded a plane. And I left him a gift—one he would open in front of four hundred guests.
Two years later, his empire is on the auction block. And the woman sent to buy it is me. Now he’s on his knees, begging for a second chance. Too bad I’m already wearing someone else’s ring.

Word spreads all across the underworld, a running joke everyone whispers: Wanna take down Don Dante?
Don’t waste your time digging up dirt on him—come straight for me instead. But good luck pulling it off.
First you’d have to cut through three layers of snipers posted at my side, blast your way past five full squads of close-quarters bodyguards, and dodge the armed attack helicopter circling overhead 24/7.
Once, I only got a tiny bug bite from a mosquito. That very night, three district capos vanished off the face of the earth without a trace.
And yet this man who’d burn the whole world down to keep me safe shoved me away on our wedding night.
He brought another woman into our elaborately decorated bridal suite and spent the whole night tangled up with her.
For every single minute they spent tangled together inside, I slammed my fists against that door right outside.
I stared at that face etched deep into my bones, watched him speak words that sounded totally foreign, hold another woman close—and I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it.
Where’d the man who once jumped in front of a bullet to shield me go?

I died the night I refused to postpone the engagement party.

The morning after my death, my parents were still having breakfast with my sister Blair, excitedly planning her award ceremony.

Before I died, the only person who answered my desperate call was my mother. I was being chased by kidnappers at the time, and I begged her to save me, telling her I was dying. But she said, "Stop being so dramatic! You're just trying to get our attention. If you want to die so badly, then go ahead and die."

That was my last call for help before the line went dead, and then I was struck by a car.

I lay on that dark road, bleeding profusely. They thought I was just sulking, hiding away to get attention. They thought if they ignored me, I would come back and apologize to them.

They didn't know I was already dead.

When that dealer tortured me, my dad, a narcotics cop, and my mom, the city’s chief medical examiner, were busy celebrating my sister’s win in the volleyball semifinals. To get back at my dad for destroying his drug network three years earlier, that man cut my throat. Right before I died, I called my dad. Before I hung up, he said, “Cut it out. Serena’s game is what mattered most right now.”

As the last stroke of the New Year bell rang,
I suddenly received a message from eight years ago:

“This is my first New Year with Zhou Guming!”
“I want to be with Zhou Guming forever!”
“I will play the piano for my whole life!”

At the same time, the news on TV was reporting:
On New Year’s Day,
my husband Zhou Guming was attending my best friend’s piano recital.

I looked down at my deformed fingers, bound by chains.
After cutting my wrist with a piece of iron I’d hidden for a long time,
I struggled to type one line:

“Lili, keep going forward. Don’t look back.”

Returned to my biological family, I didn’t find a home. I became a living blood bag for my adopted sister.

On the night of our shared eighteenth birthday gala, I weakly tugged at my mother's dress. "Mom, please... no needles just for tonight. I only want to stand in the corner and watch the cake being cut."

"Elena is suffocating in agony, and all you care about is a slice of cake?"

Disgusted, my mother ordered my brother to lock me in the attic with heavy silver chains.

When the fire broke out, completely paralyzed by the toxic silver and severe blood loss, I burned alive in the dark.

Now a phantom, I drifted down to the glittering ballroom, only to overhear my mother's cold laugh.

"Elena's condition was cured three years ago. We kept draining her just to break her spirit," she sneered. "Did that street rat really think blood ties meant she could steal Elena's place?"

My sister was never dying. My years of living hell, my agonizing death... it was all just a brutal, calculated punishment for daring to exist.

Eighty-eight times.
That was how many times I had put on a white dress, or packed my ID, heading to the registry office to marry Harrison Churchill. And eighty-eight times, I ended up in an ambulance.
The first time, it was a street drive-by. A bullet tore through my shoulder just two blocks from City Hall.
The fifteenth time, a car bomb shattered three of my ribs.
The forty-second time, a steel frame plummeted from a construction site, cracking my skull.
......And this time?
The eighty-eighth time. A massive cargo container "accidentally" slipped from a crane at the docks, crushing my car.
Maybe, it’s time to say goodbye.

Trixie had never doubted Daryl's love to her until she found a hickey on his shirt.

Adrian was a four-hundred-year-old vampire, and also my boss.

He always thought time was the cheapest commodity he had.

So he had no qualms about keeping me hidden in the dark for five years, no qualms about destroying my promotion in the name of "protecting" me, and no qualms about favoring a young girl who looked just like me.

He thought that as long as the danger passed, as long as he was willing to hand out a little compensation, I would stay right where I was and wait for him forever.

That is, until I cleared out my apartment overnight, cut off all contact, and completely vanished from his world.

He panicked.

He spent two years clearing every obstacle, surrendering all his power and wealth, just begging for me to spare him a single glance.

Beneath the New Year's Eve fireworks, he pleaded humbly, "I can wait. Ten years, twenty years, as long as you need..."

I took a step back, putting distance between us. "I used to love you very much, but love is not an exemption from consequences."

At that moment, he finally understood: for an immortal like him, his long life had, for the very first time, become the cruelest punishment of all.

"You were, are and will be fucking mine. Whoever will dare to mess with you, they will be buried 6ft deep in the ground." He said with possessiveness and I gasped at his tone.

"But I hate you, Zen Warner." I said through the gritted teeth.

He smirked sinesterly and ran the pad of his thumb on my lower lip, "It's alright. I can work with hate."


Marriage was not on my bingo list. However, life doesn’t go as you plan. Out of nowhere I was forced to marry a man, I knew nothing about, well, except his name. Moreover, just like I got married, I was forced to divorce him. I thought life cannot get messier but I was proved wrong when I had a terrible accident.

Finally, when I was sure that my life was on track and I would be able to accomplish my dream of an actress… he reappeared in my life, turning it upside down.


Berielle Wang is a 22 years old girl. She is an aspiring actress. Beautiful, kind, polite and well-mannered. There is nothing bad about her. But she had to pay a price for this kindness.

Zen Warner is a 30 years CEO. He married a girl just to fulfill the wish of his grandpa. However, who knew that within days that girl would be the center of his universe? In order to protect her, he could go to any length. Even if it means letting go of her.

Mira had received an unexpected message from her husband to meet him at a hotel so they could rekindle their love, which she was happy about, but somehow she ended up in another stranger's bed, leading her to cheat on her husband.

Mira goes back home to meet a divorce, and not only that, but she also discovers her husband has been cheating on her with her step-sister, and they both tricked her into signing her inheritance over to them.

She was humiliated and thrown out of the house only for her to be saved, but her savior turned out to be the man she had a nightstand with, and he was proposing to her a contract marriage and a chance to get revenge on all those who hurt her.

Should she accept it? Could she trust him?

5 years later, she returned to New York City with her little Triplets kids for some business deals and to finish all that her ex-husband started.

EXCEPT.

"What the fuck were you doing with my brother you slut!" Ken yells, fury obvious through his orbs as he clenches his hand into a fist, veins almost bulging out of his forehead.

"Isn't it obvious?" I throw back his question, my lips curling into a smile.

"Dear Ex-husband, Why Don't You Call Me Sister-in-law?"

For five years, Vivian sacrificed her brilliant scientific career to be the perfect wife to billionaire Dylan Hudson and a devoted mother to their son, Allen. Her reward? Her husband's cold indifference and her son's cruel rejection, both secretly manipulated by Dylan’s two-faced assistant, Hazel.

When her five-year-old son screams, "You're not my real mom! I want Hazel!", Vivian's heart finally shatters. She signs the divorce papers and walks away without looking back.

But Vivian isn't just a desperate housewife. She is the hidden heiress to the powerful Wilson family and a genius scientist. As she reclaims her empire and catches the eye of a devoted, even wealthier single father, Dylan realizes the massive mistake he made.

Now, her billionaire ex-husband and the son who pushed her away are on their knees, desperate to win her back. But Vivian only has one cold answer: "It's too late."

I thought I had married a man who truly loved me.

But three years into our marriage, I discovered the horrifying truth—our marriage certificate was fake, and my husband had already gotten his young stepmother pregnant.

Abandoned by the man I loved, I was suddenly told that I was the long-lost heiress of a powerful billionaire family.

And the father of my husband—the untouchable trillionaire at the top of the world—offered to become my protector.

He was older, dangerous, wealthy, and powerful. He taught me how to become the heiress I was born to be.

I always saw him as nothing more than an elder.

Until one night, he leaned close and whispered,

“Forget my son. From now on, you’re the one who belongs to me.”

The day my mother succumbed to complications during childbirth, her younger sister, Vanessa, wed my father.

Fifteen years later, I beheld my husband accompanying Vanessa as she tried on seductive lingerie.

In that moment, I understood—what she truly coveted was never my father, but rather all that my mother and I shared.

My mother perished during childbirth, a casualty of an illicit affair.

I vowed not to repeat that tragic cycle.

Then I returned home, removed my wedding ring, and left behind the divorce papers.

My husband Dante's best friend Luigi died three months ago, and with his last breath, he made Dante promise to take care of his pregnant widow, Maggie. From that moment, Maggie invaded our lives, and I was only four months pregnant at the time.

Then Maggie got caught in a gang shootout. She needed an emergency blood transfusion, and she had this rare blood type—Rhnull. Turns out, I'm Rhnull too.

To save Maggie and her baby, Dante forced me to abort mine.

That December night, his first love and I were both rushed to the ER.
Two pregnant women. One operating room.
My doctor husband took three seconds to decide.
"She's an athlete. She can handle it," he told the nurse, then wheeled Sienna into surgery.
Leaving me—eight months pregnant with his baby—bleeding alone in the hallway.
When the nurse called begging him to come back, he said: "I'm at the pharmacy getting supplies for Sienna. Twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes later, I'm still alive.
He wishes I wasn't.

“I’m close!" “oh---please fuck me harder! Cum inside of me!"
On our third wedding anniversary, when I pushed open the door to my home, I found my husband fucking a woman hard, they were supposed to have broken up three years ago, why!
To make my heart break even more, this woman is pregnant with my husband's child and I can't have children! My husband keeps putting me on the pill to avoid pregnancy. He told me he didn't want kids.
I came to the realization that he just didn't want me to have his child and that he never loved me. I want to divorce him.
This BITCH deliberately fell in front of me and I was pushed down the stairs by my angry husband.
I was reborn two years ago, when our marriage first started and I vowed to stay away from him, but he suddenly fell in love with me and forced me to not let me leave, meanwhile, another mysterious CEO, wanted me too!
Should I give my husband a second chance or accept the man who claims to have loved me for ten years?

Dedicated three years to marriage, I shed the aura of the genius venture queen, pouring all my connections and resources into helping Simon Coldridge, who had nothing, ascend to the position of CEO. I thought this was a testament to our love, until that stormy night when he hung up on my call for help, yet gently opened the car door and styled the hair of the poor student I had funded.
When I confronted him, he disdainfully said, “You’re Mrs. Coldridge. Don’t take her seriously.” He might have thought I would continue to tolerate it like before. When I threw my ten-carat wedding ring into the trash and withdrew funding from the project he valued most, he finally understood that the Aurora Montague who loved him to the point of losing herself was already dead.

“I want out of this marriage.”

The words were cold… ironic coming from the man who betrayed her five years ago.

But the broken woman he once discarded no longer exists.

She has rebuilt herself from the ashes… stronger, sharper, and untouchable. Now a powerful CEO and a devoted mother, she has no interest in reopening old wounds or letting the past back into her carefully rebuilt life.

Unfortunately, fate has other plans.

When the man who shattered her heart is suddenly thrown back into her world, buried emotions resurface… along with a secret powerful enough to change everything.

Because the little boy she fiercely protects may be his son.

Just when the past begins clawing its way back, another threat rises.

The woman currently by his side is not the type to walk away quietly. Ruthless, manipulative, and dangerously obsessed, she will stop at nothing to keep the man she claims as hers… even if it means destroying the woman he once lost and tearing apart the life she fought so hard to build.

This time, the stakes are higher.

And walking away may no longer be an option.

Being married to Gabriel Bowen for two years, Nicole never faced a problem for being a plus sized woman. He always made her understand he liked his women thick.

Until one evening she decides to surprise him early from work. But as she steps into their apartment, she notices something’s off.

Gabriel is home, but he isn’t alone. She walks up to the bedroom where she finds her husband’s head buried between the legs of a red haired woman who is nothing close to being thick.

Unapologetic about it, he straight up asks for a divorce . After the divorce shatters her, she disappears… only to return a year later with a transformed body, sharpened confidence, and a legal mind ready for war.