1241 Book(s) Related to her rogue bodyguard

On the very day Charlotte Blackwood discovered she was pregnant, she walked into her bedroom expecting to surprise her billionaire husband with the happiest news of their lives.

Instead, she found him in bed with her best friend.

Branded a cheater with fabricated evidence, abandoned, and left for dead after a tragic fall, Charlotte lost everything—her marriage, her unborn child, and even her memories.

The world believed she was dead.

Three years later, she returns with a new identity, Aurora Sinclair—a powerful businesswoman with an empire of her own and only one goal: revenge.

Her ex-husband, Ethan Blackwood, is haunted by guilt the moment he sees the woman he buried standing before him, more beautiful and untouchable than ever. Desperate for a second chance, he vows to win her back, unaware that every smile she gives him is part of a carefully crafted plan to make him lose everything.

But when revenge and old feelings collide, will Aurora destroy the man who broke her... or discover that forgiveness is the hardest battle of all?

As the Chief Delta of Alpha Hunter and his secretly married wife, Kara had always hoped that her dedication would eventually win his heart.
However, everything changed when that rogue girl—Maya—appeared. She is Hunter's Fated mate.
According to their pre-marriage agreement, once Hunter finds his true mate, their marriage will be over.
Just then, Kara discovers that she's pregnant...

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

I was ranked first in my class, which made me this year's valedictorian.

Years ago, my dad served overseas, and a war correspondent wrote a story about him. He cut the article out and kept it in the inside pocket of his old jacket for twenty years.

I read it for the first time when I was twelve, and ever since then, I'd wanted to be a reporter like that.

But I almost turned down Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism for Spencer, my childhood best friend. I was going to follow him and his girlfriend, Chloe, to Stanford.

Four minutes before the Decision Day deadline, a video popped up on my phone. There was no sender.

The woman on the screen had fine lines around her eyes and a raspy voice. She had my face.

"Spencer logged into your account and switched your enrollment to the local community college. All because Chloe told him she was sick of you tagging along after him."

"After that, you fought to transfer, fought your way through grad school, and you still never got that press pass."

"Nora, you could have made it to the farthest corners of the world."

The screen went black. I ran back to my room and pulled up the applicant portal.

Right there under enrollment choice was some community college I'd never even heard of.

My hands were shaking as I switched it back to Medill. When I hit confirm, there was one minute left.

Then I realized something. As of that moment, eighteen years of friendship between Spencer and me were done.

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my grandmother in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my only family die.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

"Unless you bring 100 gold coins and the Alpha's blood, the half-breed dies in the cellar."

Those words broke what little was left of my soul. Three years ago, I was the proud Luna of the Blackwood Pack—until my fated mate, Alpha Valen, branded me a traitor, burned our sacred mark from my neck, and locked me in the Ice Crypt.

Now, I am nothing but a despised outcast. But I don't care about my pride anymore. My four-year-old daughter, Nyra, is freezing to death in a damp cage, succumbing to a fatal disease. To save her, I need the ultimate cure: Valen's Alpha blood.

The tragic irony? He refuses to claim her. Tricked by the woman who framed me, Valen believes my tiny, innocent pup is the filthy product of betrayal. He would rather watch me crawl on my hands and knees over corrosive silver powder than offer a single drop of his blood.

With my daughter's breaths fading, the woman who framed me offers a dark, irreversible trade.

I will pay the price. I will give away the last piece of myself to save my pup.

But when Valen finally discovers whose bloodline he left to die... it will be entirely too late.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

Twenty-one times.

I've signed the mate bond with Kael Nightshade, Lord of the Black Panther Clan, twenty-one times.

And dissolved it twenty-one times.

Not because we didn't love each other.

But because every few months, she comes back.

Seraphine. His first love. The angel who shattered her wings saving him, leaving her mind fractured and fragile.

"Seeing the mate mark sends her into psychotic breaks," he'd say, burning the bond from my skin. "I owe her my life."

So I'd erase the mark. Burn the contract. Pretend we were never bound.

The first time, I cried and begged. He backhanded me: "Cut the bullshit. We'll rebond once she's back in the sanatorium."

The thirteenth time, I followed them to a tavern and watched him tenderly kiss the scarred stumps where her wings used to be. When I confronted them, he knocked me down and locked me in enchanted restraints for seven days straight.

Sign. Burn. Erase. An endless cycle I couldn't escape.

Until the twenty-first time.

Fire engulfed the manor. Seraphine and I were trapped in different wings. Kael could only save one of us.

"Kael!" I collapsed at the window, smoke choking my lungs. "I'm pregnant—please—"

He shifted into his panther form and bolted toward her room.

The guards dragged me out thirty minutes later. Third-degree burns across my back, lungs filled with ash, blood pooling beneath me.

No heartbeat.

Kael stood in the safe zone, holding an unscathed Seraphine in his arms. From the moment the flames erupted until they pulled me from the rubble, he never looked back.

Not once.

The twenty-first dissolution was my choice.

There won't be a twenty-second.

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

On the day of the clan’s grand sea banquet, my mafia husband Victor took his beloved white moonlight Lilia to race jet skis in restricted sea waters without permission.
She twisted the throttle all the way open, and the jet ski crashed violently into the my luxury yacht.
The yacht quickly flooded and began sinking, yet Victor completely ignored the people screaming for help on board, only clinging tightly to the terrified Lilia and comforting her softly.
"Don’t be afraid. They trespassed into the restricted sea zone of their own accord; they deserve everything that happened to them."
Not until the entire yacht sank deep into the ocean and everyone aboard vanished without a trace did Victor dial my phone unhurriedly.
"Vera, your mom and Dante are gone in the sea."
In an instant, overwhelming terror swallowed me whole.
The very next second, I saw Mom shoving freshly cooked meat into my mouth just as she did when I was a child.
My brother hurried over with a grin to snatch a bite.
"Mom, you always favor my sister."
They are standing right beside me.
Then who on earth was trapped inside that sunken yacht?

The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.

Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.

Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.

Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."

The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.

He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."

"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."

Even my son took her side.

"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"

But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.

When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."

I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.

"I'm dying."

Seven years ago, my father, the Wolf King, listened to the slander of his new lover and personally brought a bowl of abortion poison to my mother.

My mother fought desperately to turn her head away in resistance, but he forced it down her throat anyway.

In her absolute despair, she let out a harrowing scream, vowing she would never see him again in this lifetime!

Since then, the soul bond between my parents was completely severed.

My father, however, brushed it off, dead certain that my mother was "blocking the bond" to throw a temper tantrum.

Until today, when the vampire army massed at our borders, specifically demanding a royal blood slave.

To protect his new lover's daughter, my father seized me to take her place.

He set fire to my mother's beloved sea of moonflowers, pointing at the soaring flames and roaring: "If you come out and beg me, I'll spare Aria's life!"

But even as the inferno reduced half the courtyard to ashes, the space behind that tightly shut door remained in a state of dead silence.

He didn't know—

The severed bond wasn't a tantrum.

Because of that bowl of poison seven years ago, my mother had drawn her last breath that very night.

"Economy? For me?" I stared at the boarding pass while my boyfriend's new "business partner" got first class instead. "You're just my plus-one," Cedric said. "The sponsor won't cover you." I said nothing and boarded the plane. What he didn't know was that if I wanted to, I could buy the entire airline.

This year, out of nowhere, my mate Dominic told me to take two months off and go to Ashvale with our son, Finn. Eight years, and he'd never once given me a single day off.
I thought he'd finally noticed how tired I was.
Then Maren found a letter in his study. It was from his Beta, laying out the whole plan. Move his old flame Camille and her daughter into the main house. Hold a mating ceremony the moment I was gone.
I don't know how long I stood there holding that letter before I could think straight again.
If my mate wanted to bring her home and pick up where they left off, that was his business.
I packed our son's things for Ashvale.
I just wasn't planning on coming back.

My sister ran away the night before her wedding, so I had to take her place and marry Damian Kovac, the city's most feared don.
I figured he'd throw me in the harbor out of pure rage. Instead, the man wouldn't even touch me.
A month in, still sleeping in the guest room.
I wasn't my sister's level of charming, but I wasn't hard to look at either. And this man couldn't spare me a single glance?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I grabbed the divorce papers I'd already drawn up and stormed toward his study.
Right as I raised my hand to knock, I caught his childhood friend's voice through the door.
"You moved heaven and earth to get the woman you've been hung up on, and now you're icing her out? Didn't think I'd live to see the day."
My hand froze.
The woman he'd been hung up on? Me?

Six weeks after his girlfriend had twins, my husband got himself fixed. He billed it to my insurance.
Then he spent nine years driving me to fertility clinics. Two surgeries. Four rounds of shots. He held my hand every time and told me next time.
The whole town said it was my fault. His mother asked me every Sunday if there was any news.
I died at forty-four. Three days before the end I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear them over my bed. The girl I bought a purple bicycle for called him Dad.
Then I opened my eyes and I was thirty-four again, on a gurney, waiting for them to open me up one more time.
Last time I lay back down and let them do it. I did it three more times after that.
This time he's paying me back for all nine years, one line at a time.
The nurse asked me to confirm my date of birth. I did. Then I told her I wasn't doing it.

On my husband's birthday, I took our seven-year-old son to his hotel in Italy to surprise him.

Our son never saw his father. Instead, he met Sophia, the woman who called herself the "lady of the hotel." She framed him for theft, stepped on his hand, snapped his epinephrine injector in half, and forced him to eat a hazelnut cake that could kill him.

When the doctor my father sent placed our son on a stretcher, my husband finally returned.

He did not look at the child on the stretcher. He stepped past him and pulled Sophia into his arms.

"Who hurt my woman and my baby?"

Only when he saw me standing there with my bruised face did all the color drain from his own.

They called me a hellcat. A she-wolf tyrant. The Luna who made her Alpha husband obey.
I held him together when his father died. Built his dying pack into a powerhouse while he flirted with she-wolves.
Then he brought home his "fated mate."
Everyone waited for me to explode.
Instead, I smiled. "I'll help you prepare the ceremony."
That's when my wolf—dormant for years—began to wake.

After sleeping for a thousand years, I returned to the ancestral castle that was supposed to be mine.
Only to find my throne torn down and turned into an auction block for the black market, my territory carved up clean by traitors.
And my only pureblood descendant in this world was actually being auctioned off like livestock—covered in blood, chained up with a cheap dog collar around his neck.
The entire room of nobles and elites mistook me for the lowest kind of half-blood trash, mocking me as a rat too stupid to know when he was dead.
The usurper, eager to curry favor with the Abyss, shouted that he would drain me dry and offer my blood as a tribute to the three pureblood princes deep within the Abyss.
Then the void split open, and those three supreme princes—the untouchable monsters the world worshiped—truly descended.
Under the horrified gaze of more than a thousand nobles and elites, those three ancient monsters threw themselves at my feet, scrambling and crawling, wailing in terror without even daring to raise their heads:
"Your unworthy descendants... welcome the Ancestor's return!!!"

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

Omega Lyra, once betrothed to Alpha Kyle, is forced to sew his new Luna’s wedding dress.
On the wedding eve, an out-of-control Kyle violates her; the chaos that follows kills the bride, and Lyra is falsely branded a murderer.
Kyle binds Lyra as his nominal Luna to torment her—for three years, she endures mockery and isolation, finding solace only in late-night piano playing.
His coldness and closeness to the late Luna’s sister Rhea shatter her hope.
Humiliated at Kyle’s birthday banquet, Lyra demands to end their bond.
Fleeing, she awakens hidden Alpha powers but is attacked by rogues—Beta Darren, who secretly cares for her, saves her.
Now, Lyra must evade Kyle’s family, find her lost sister, and fight for a place in the wolf world, turning her painful escape into a journey of redemption.

He filled my head with lies.
Then he set my world on fire.

Gavril Vaknin.
Richer than God.
Crueler than the devil.

And if he has his way…
My new fake husband.

A chance meeting turns into a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
The billionaire don needs a blank slate to turn into his perfect politician’s wife.
I’m homeless and desperate—what do I have to lose?

But Gavril is hiding secrets. Cloaked in lies.
Stepping into his world is a one-way ticket to a hell I won’t survive.

Did I do the right thing?
Or did I just sell my soul to a monster?

The first thing they took was my baby.

The second was my parents.

The third was my freedom, my eyes, and every reason to live.

My husband gave me to three men on our anniversary. He chained me in a doghouse while his mistress laughed. He fed me my own son’s remains and called it mercy.

He said I was dirty. He said I deserved it.

But the DNA test he trusted was a lie. The video was staged. And the woman he’s about to marry is the one who destroyed us all.

I tried to die. Four times.

Now I’m done trying.

They put a dead woman in the ground. They’re about to find out she brought hell back with her.

Ella is betrayed in her 25th birthday by her boyfriend, leading to a one-night stand at a bar. She Initially mistaking Eric for just a call boy, later, she discovers that he is actually an Alpha of a pack, leading to an unwanted pregnancy. She ran away without a trace, bearing and taking care of the twins alone. It's later turned out to be an interesting romance. What happens when Eric discover that the twins are actually his? Will Ella forgive Eric for betraying her?

When Nathan Hayes set the divorce settlement in front of me, he placed another file beside it.
A man's photograph lay on top.
Thirty-four. Single. A steady career, a home of his own, no complicated family obligations.
It was more thorough than a dating profile.
Nathan sat across from me, as calm as if we were making dinner plans.
“Evan Brooks is heading back to Charlotte next week. He's interested in getting to know you. His rehab center is hiring, too. You used to work in speech therapy. You could have a job and a place to settle down.”
I left the file untouched and picked up the divorce papers.

I was the most in-demand wedding planner in Boston. I'd run more than three hundred weddings, and not one of them had ever been off by a single second.

The only wedding I couldn't pull off was my own.

My fiancé, Graham, and I had been together for seven years, and everyone knew he was a perfectionist.

Everyone called his executive assistant, Sloane, Miss Punctual. She was also my best friend.

In Graham's eyes, Sloane was the gold standard, and I never measured up.

At our engagement party, I showed up one song late, and the first dance went to him and Sloane.

On Thanksgiving, I walked in two minutes late, and Sloane was already sitting in the seat saved for me next to his parents.

For the charter flight to Aspen, I was thirty seconds too late to board. The door closed right in my face, and Sloane flew off with her head on his shoulder.

We'd tried to get married seventeen times. Every single time, he stopped it halfway through and had Sloane stand in for me to finish the run-through.

For the eighteenth, I had all four screens in the ballroom running a synced countdown, and I'd practiced at home with a stopwatch for over two hundred nights.

But two seconds before I was supposed to say my vows, Sloane beat me to it and blurted out "I do."

Graham didn't even look at the screens. He just turned to me and said, "You're late again. The wedding's off."

That was when I finally got it. My timing had never been the problem. The problem was that the wrong woman was standing across from him.

He took Sloane's hand. "Watch closely. We'll show you one more time."

I took out the two wedding rings and slid one onto his finger and the other onto hers.

"Don't bother. Here's to your happily ever after."

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

The moment I saw my name on that wedding invitation, I was already dead.

On Highway 23, a steel rebar had pierced straight through my chest. I was two months pregnant.

I called my fiancé Michael seventeen times. The first sixteen, he hung up without a word. On the seventeenth, his voice dripped with impatience: "Marrying Sophia is just for show. Stop making a scene."

The man who once knelt outside my family's estate for three days and nights, swearing to love me for a lifetime—he wouldn't spare me a single second more.

With my last breath, I dialed the funeral home. "I'm calling... for myself."

Flames consumed my body. My soul drifted toward the engagement banquet that should have been mine. When the killer's phone lit up, the name on the screen was Sophia...

When he destroyed my entire family, he never once thought of me.

So now, let me watch with my own eyes as this wedding becomes their funeral.

I was here because of missed periods and abnormal bleeding—a suspected threatened miscarriage.

When asked about our relationship, my boyfriend didn't even look at me.

"We're just classmates," he told the nurse.

He thought he was cutting ties with a worthless nobody so he could chase after a billionaire's daughter.

What he didn't know was... I was the heiress he was desperately looking for.

After my miscarriage, my psychiatrist husband offered to erase the painful memories to help me forget them.

During the three months I was dumped in a rehab facility, he took our daughter and his cousin on a European vacation.

Now that they're back, he assumes I’ll go right back to being that meticulous, perfect wife.

But I didn't.

He deliberately provokes me, thinking my coldness is just me playing hard to get.

He has no idea that the brainwashing procedure didn't just wash away my pain—it completely severed my love for him.

To save my mother's life and pay for her experimental cancer treatment, I had to take a night shift at an exclusive private club.
That night, Elias Sinclair had been drugged. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes wild and burning, and whispered, 'Don't go.
Two months later, a constant, sickening wave of nausea confirmed my worst fear: I was pregnant.
The Sinclair family didn’t waste any time. Within days, a contract was shoved in my face. The house and millions of dollars would be mine, but the child would belong to them. The price? I could never see my baby again.
I signed the paper, took the money, and fled the country, thinking our paths would never cross again.
Five years later, I returned to Koren City, wanting nothing more than to quietly care for my ailing mother.
But the one man I swore to avoid blocked my path, smelling of whiskey and dark intent.
"Are you avoiding me, June?"

On our seventh anniversary, my fiancé left me standing outside the courthouse so he could drive another woman to the hospital. It was the ninety-ninth time he'd called off our wedding for her.
That night, he booked the restaurant where we'd had our first date. He wore the tie I'd given him. For a few minutes, I let myself believe he finally understood.
Then he asked me to eat faster. She wanted dessert.
So I stopped counting. I signed my transfer papers, packed up seven years, and boarded my flight without looking back.
By the time he realized I wasn't bluffing, I was already gone. Now he's the one left waiting, and all the roses in the world won't bring me back.

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband, Caleb, was sleeping with his student.
That night, I spiked his Pinot Noir with poison. I watched him collapse, convulse, and take his agonizing last breath. Then, I dragged his body into the basement and sealed it inside an oak wine barrel.
For five years, I raised our daughter, Nora, on my own. I thought the secret would rot in the dark forever.
Until she told me: Daddy speaks to her from under the floorboards every night. His voice sounds muffled, like he’s talking through a thick blanket...

My neighbor Beck Morrow was the best high school point guard this state had seen in years.
The night before the state championship—three college scouts in the stands—he decided to stay home with his girlfriend instead. She wasn't feeling well.
I called his coach.
He played. He got the scholarship. He built a company worth eight figures before he turned thirty, and I spent five years writing every algorithm that company ran on.
He repaid me by throwing a ball at my head during a training session. Then his lawyers sent a letter explaining that I had no legal claim to any intellectual property developed under my employment contract, effective immediately, and that my position was being terminated.
Then I woke up. It was the first week of senior year again.

I spent five years loving a man I secretly built from nothing—pulling strings, clearing obstacles, lifting him higher than he ever knew. Then one night, outside a private room, I heard him plan my future without me: a mistress's role, a generous allowance, and a smile to soften the blow. I walked away, burned every gift he'd ever given me to ash, and disappeared into three years of silence and purpose. By the time Damon Hale understood what he had thrown away, I was already someone he could never reach again.

Three years into our marriage, I believed I had married the man who loved me more than anyone in the world—until an explicit photo of a woman went viral.
The woman in the picture had my exact face.
Everyone was convinced I was the one who had cheated.
And my husband, Jarek, didn’t defend me. Instead, he pushed me straight into the court of public opinion, silently allowing everyone to believe I was the one who had betrayed our marriage.
Until I caught him with that woman in our bedroom.
Her name was Sabrina.
She was my identical twin sister.
That was when I finally realized that our entire three-year marriage had been a lie.
He had never loved me.
I was nothing more than a replacement for her—the woman he had lost and gone looking for.
And the cruelest part?
Even when I was carrying his child, even when he left me broken and bleeding, he still chose her.
I lost the baby.
And whatever love I had left for him died with it.
I filed for divorce.
He refused to let me go.

“You’re just a housewife with no job—you’d never dare divorce Dad!”
Her own son—— Sean Stuart said it.
And for seven years, Seraphine Lavien believed staying silent was love.

Once a rising star in fashion, she gave up her career to marry into wealth—to care for a demanding husband and their fragile son.
But her sacrifice earned only contempt:
Her designs stolen… and he said nothing.
Her pain ignored… while he praised another woman’s work.
Her name mocked as “the wife who doesn’t belong”… and still, he stayed silent.

Charles Stuart's silence broke her.

So she walked away—and rebuilt herself from ash to icon.

Now, as an award-winning designer commanding runways from Paris to New York,

she’s untouchable.

Until the man who let her burn alone shows up at her show, desperate:

“Please come back…”

Aurelia has spent three years in a loveless marriage, holding on to a man who was already slipping away. She thinks it can't get worse until his first love returns.
He divorces her without hesitation. He doesn't know she's pregnant. Alone, heartbroken, and with nowhere to go, Aurelia is hit by a car.
She wakes up to three powerful billionaire brothers claiming her as their long-lost sister, and they take her away from the life that broke her.
Five years later, Aurelia is no longer the woman he abandoned. She runs AURELIA, a global luxury fashion empire. Untouchable, cold, and emotionally closed off.
So when her ex-husband walks back into her life, begging for another chance, she doesn't hesitate. "Unless it's business, you don't exist to me."
And when he discovers he has a son, he tries to claim him. The child looks at him without recognition and says, "My father is dead. I only have my mummy and my uncles."
For the first time, Dominic is forced to face the full weight of what he lost. Now, the man who once threw her away is the one begging to stay. But Aurelia doesn't believe in second chances. And this time, walking away might not be his choice.

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

As if being sold as a slave wasn't enough, she has to bear the ruthless alpha king a heir which she does,but in his absence, because she had to run to save her life and that of her babies.

Years later, she returned but not as the pathetic little girl that she was. she is now a woman sort after by many alphas and he would have to fight them all to win her back.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

She woke up naked, bound, and on display in a birdcage.

Her husband sat in the front row while strangers bid on her unborn son's organs. He believed the video. The DNA test. The other woman's lies.

They took her baby. They took her mother. They tried to take her mind.

So she let them think she was broken. She smiled through the electric shocks. She bent without breaking. She counted down to the surgery that was supposed to kill her.

But she wasn't counting down to her death.

She was counting down to theirs.

They wanted her heart?

She'll give it to them—still beating, as she becomes their judge, jury, and executioner.

Dark Revenge Romance. CW: non-con, graphic violence, pregnancy loss, captivity. Read with caution.

Everyone at Crestwood High knows Jaxon Reed’s reputation.
Bad boy. Trouble. Walking red flag.

So when he asks Ellie Marrow out—quiet, rule-following, and painfully invisible—it’s obvious to everyone that it has to be a joke.

Except Ellie knows the truth.

Jaxon made a bet. A stupid, reckless one. And she’s the prize.

Instead of saying no, Ellie makes a choice no one expects: she agrees to fake date him—for her own reasons. With rules. Boundaries. And an expiration date. What starts as pretending quickly turns complicated as Ellie sees the side of Jaxon no one else does.

As rumors spread and lines blur, Ellie must decide who she wants to be when she stops playing it safe. And Jaxon has to face the truth about himself—and the damage a single lie can cause.

Because when pretending feels this real, someone is bound to get hurt.

"Siblings don't do this," he murmured, his thumb tracing my jaw. "So tell me, Nyra... does he know you the way I do? Does he know what you're capable of?"
Three years ago, I escaped the empire that raised me.
I left behind my father's world of blood, violence, and impossible choices, determined to become someone else.
Someone ordinary.
For three years, I believed I had succeeded.
Until my father was murdered.
One phone call drags me back to the compound I swore I would never see again. But grief quickly gives way to betrayal.
The man I planned to marry isn't who he claimed to be.
Old enemies are hiding in plain sight.
And everyone wants something my father left behind.
Everyone has lied to me.
Everyone... except Raze.
He was my first mistake.
My greatest weakness.
The one man I could never truly forget.
Three years ago, I walked away from him.
He waited 1,095 days.
Now, he's done waiting.
As secrets buried for years begin to surface, I'm forced to face the woman I once was, the weapon my father spent years creating.
I came back wanting answers.
Instead, I found blood, betrayal, and a man who still knows exactly how to unravel me.
Now I have only two choices:
Become the weapon I was raised to be...Or die pretending I was ever meant for a peaceful life.

Will a man learn to love me if I’m good to him long enough?

I tried for seven years to warm his heart.
I thought if I just held on a little longer, he’d finally see me.
Because I loved him so deeply.

But what did I get in return?
His endless tenderness for another woman.
I pretended I didn’t care, until pneumonia landed me in the hospital.

On the day I was discharged, I found him standing there with our daughter, his whole world focused on caring for that woman.
Even my daughter, whom I’d raised with everything I had, wished that woman was her mother.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I left the divorce papers, gave up custody, and walked back into the chemical industry.
So what if seven years of marriage had worn me down?
I was still the top genius in my field.

But the divorce I’d wanted so badly never went through.
The man who once couldn’t have been colder to me now held on to me tighter than ever.
Our daughter refused to leave my side.

When he found my divorce papers,
the always cold and arrogant man pushed me against the wall and growled:

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

My boyfriend had refused to sleep with me for years.

I thought he was shy, inexperienced, or hiding something painful.

Then I found his journal.

In it, Adrian Shaw wrote that my stepsister had warned him I would despise a virgin who didn't know how to please me.

He hated the thought of touching another woman, he said.

He loved me.

But he had decided to practice anyway—for my sake.

I still believed we could fix it, right up until I heard him agree to meet another woman in secret.

So I gave him one last chance to tell me the truth.

He lied, crossed the line he knew mattered most to me, and expected love to erase the choice.

By the time he understood what I had actually wanted, another man was already waiting at my door—a man who had heard my standard years ago and remembered every word.

I was the proudest kept woman in Chicago, and Adrian Sterling, the most powerful heir in the city, treated me like a queen.
Then a broke college girl with a sob story walked into his life.
He brought her to his grandfather's birthday dinner and ordered me to apologize to her in front of everyone.
I took off the nine-figure pink diamond he'd given me and handed it to her.
He froze my cards. He took the venue for my jewelry show and gave it to her charity auction.
When she broke the only thing my mother ever left me, he told me to get on my knees and beg her forgiveness.
That night, I left with my passport and the pieces of my mother's pendant.
Five years later, at a gala in Paris, his champagne glass hit the floor the moment I walked in.
He pushed through a room full of billionaires and grabbed my wrist.
"Evelyn. Come home with me."
I looked down at his hand.