1480 Book(s) Related to can t win her back

Damian's breath fanned my ear as I felt his body press into my back. The front of his gun brushed past my shoulder, fixated on Luca, who faced us with clenched fists.
“Move, Elena,” Luca wanted to sound dominating, “he won't hurt you. I won't let him.”
I couldn't move when Damian settled his hand on my waist firmly, keeping me from moving.
“You won't let me?” Damian's tone was possessive when he leaned closer to me, speaking to Luca. “You don't give the orders here.”
Luca's jaw tightened, but he didn't move from his place.
Damian slowly pressed his finger more on the trigger, deliberately.
“You have two choices, Elena," he whispered to me. "Choose me, and he'll live, but might end up in a hospital. Choose him and he dies."


Elena knew it wasn’t a threat but a promise.

After Saffron was injured, Theodore personally sent Maeve to a psychiatric hospital.
“Take good care of her.” Those were his words before Maeve endured years of torture.
When she was finally released, her own fiancé failed to recognize her, mistaking her for a woman he could pick up at a bar.
Three years earlier, Saffron had falsely accused Maeve of trying to run her over.
Without hearing her side, her family abandoned her, and Theodore let it happen.
Now, Maeve is back, but no one believes her claims that Saffron framed her.
Theodore even demands that she accept her punishment.
Done begging for their trust, Maeve walks away forever.
Her family pushes her into a contract marriage, and just as she stops defending herself, Saffron’s deception is exposed.
Will Theodore win her back? Will her family love her again? Can Maeve finally find happiness in her contract marriage?

She showed up from a nowhere town in Texas. He runs half the city from a penthouse no one gets invited to.

First meeting: he told her to hand over the cat and the kid. She kicked his brother into a car hood.

Second meeting: he produced a travel-size hand sanitizer on a park bench. She ate a hot dog next to him without blinking.

They're locked to the same bracelet — heart rate spikes, coordinates sync, no override, no opt-out. He's precise, controlled, allergic to chaos. She keeps walking into his life like she owns the square footage. He's never once miscalculated a person. She makes him do it constantly.

He tells her he'll always know where she is. She tells him to keep his heart rate down, then.

Neither of them manages it.

He says he doesn't do feelings. She says she doesn't do roots. The bracelet doesn't care what either of them says.

It just keeps syncing.

Every time.

“Three years ago, you were the last person I wanted to see. Today, you’re the last person I should ever love.”

I thought I had buried my first love along with the girl I used to be. Three years ago, I disappeared into the sea, leaving everyone to believe I was dead. I survived—but the girl who once loved Dmitri with all her heart never came back.

Now I’m Celeste again: stronger, colder, and determined to build a life that belongs to me. I have a job to protect, a father to save, and no intention of falling for the man who once owned my heart.

Then Dmitri walks back into my life.

Powerful, unreadable, and as dangerously captivating as ever, he refuses to treat me like a stranger. He insists I work directly with him, watches every move I make, and seems determined to keep me within reach.

But he’s supposed to be marrying Marie—the woman connected to the nightmare that nearly killed me.

If Dmitri wants a second chance, he’ll have to face the truth about our past.

And when the truth finally comes out, will he be the man who saves me—or the one who destroys me all over again?

The night my childhood fiancé humiliated me in front of our entire senior class, I didn't cry.
I just went home and made two decisions.

Lose the 60 pounds.
Secretly reject my Princeton acceptance.
I erased his number, packed my bags, and vanished from his toxic orbit. Nathan thinks he won.
He thinks he finally shook off the "burden" his parents forced on him.
But what happens when the girl you spent your whole life running away from... becomes the only woman you can't live without?

Thirteen years. That's how long I loved Reid Holloway.
When he said he was being bullied, I believed him. When he kissed me on that rooftop, I thought he felt the same. When he asked me to transfer schools with him, I said yes without hesitation.
Then I heard him bragging to his friends: "She'd save her first time for me. Hell, she'd still be thinking of me on her wedding night."
The bullying was staged. The kiss meant nothing. He just wanted me gone—so his new girl could feel more comfortable.
He thought I'd beg. He thought I'd cry. He thought I'd never actually leave.
I left the country.
And ran straight into his stepbrother.

My mother rips my long-hidden Orion star chart to pieces and hurls the scraps straight into my face like garbage.
For seventeen years, I’ve been the praised straight-A good girl, my shirt collars always buttoned all the way up. I’ve lived solely for one goal: an acceptance letter from Yale, my ticket out of this suffocating cage.
But the second she locks my bedroom door from the outside, it hits me cold: blind obedience only traps you tighter.
Just as despair crashes over me, a silver lighter clatters against my windowsill. Zane—the biker delinquent everyone at school steers clear of—pries open my window and holds out his hand to me.
To hell with the Ivy League. Tonight, Aria’s jumping out of this window that’s kept me prisoner.

My daughter was choked until her face turned purple by the mistress's son, then nearly died after my ex-husband forced her to give blood.
She was beaten, cursed at, and abandoned on a bench outside the hospital.
And I could do nothing to help her.
Because I had already died eight years ago.
It wasn't until my daughter collapsed crying at my grave—and the story made the news—that my ex-husband finally learned the truth.
He had destroyed both me and the child we shared in the cruelest way possible.
And by then, there was no fixing it.

The night Claire Richards caught her husband cheating, she planned her revenge.

She transferred billions in hidden assets, gathered undeniable proof of his affair, and destroyed the mistress's reputation.

When Claire handed Lucas Bennett the divorce papers, he tore them to pieces.
"Divorce? Not a chance!" Lucas snapped.
But Claire only smiled. "The waiting period is over, Mr. Bennett. You're out."

Sharp, stunning, and done playing nice, Claire steps into a world dominated by two powerful men: her furious ex-husband and the cold, mysterious CEO feared by all. But this time, she's calling the shots.

Watch as a clear-headed woman takes control, turns heartbreak into strength, and brings the man who once cast her aside to his knees.

In a brutal betrayal, champion racer Vivian's life is destroyed by the man she loves. John, her partner and team owner, sabotages her car, causing a crash that kills their unborn child and leaves her gravely injured. He then coldly abandons her to celebrate with his true lover, Sharon—the rival he secretly engineered the accident for. As Vivian confronts the loss of her child and career, her suffering is magnified by the couple's relentless cruelty, culminating in John allowing Sharon to permanently cripple her legs. Emotionally and physically shattered, and forced into a humiliating existence, Vivian uncovers the full extent of their conspiracy. With every hope extinguished, she orchestrates a final, desperate escape from her nightmare, leaving a life of vengeance and sorrow behind.

I spent three years in the squad — three years carrying them to the top of the S-rank hero league. And their reward? They decided my B-rank rating wasn't good enough, and brought in an A-rank support to replace me. Fine. I'm done pretending. The truth is, I'm S-rank.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

For three years, she was the invisible wife in a marriage of convenience, her quiet love met only with his cold indifference. Now, with her departure date set, the photos of him with his true love are the final proof she needs to walk away forever.

Her bags are packed, her future is hers alone. She plans to vanish without a trace, leaving behind only a signed divorce paper.

He never saw her—until he found her closet empty and his world unraveling. The man who took her for granted is now in a desperate race against time, tormented by a single question: Can he undo his greatest mistake, or has he already lost the one person who truly mattered?

Her father and stepmother died, leaving her in the brutal hands of her stepbrother. Her stepbrother is heartless.
He treats her as a maid, is it a torture?
She, however, discovers that she has been sold. Sold to a Ruthless Mafia, just to serve as a settlement for her stepbrother's debt. Now she fears her life. Would her life take a turn for the worse or for the best?

Chloe wasted ten years loving arrogant Zane. To win a Porsche bet, he publicly humiliated her, taking her devotion for granted. Finally awake, she cut him off and rebuilt herself as a brilliant top-university elite.
After losing her, Zane drowned in regret, begging desperately for her forgiveness. But it was too late. Chloe met the wealthy, gentle genius Liam, who healed all her wounds. Zane gambled with her heart—and lost her forever.

At the Eternal Night Realm admission ceremony, Carly suddenly grabs my hand.

My heart pounds. I think he is going to announce our relationship to the entire continent.

Instead, he says, "Eve, thanks for everything these past five years. But Lym didn't make the cut. She's hurting right now, and I need to go back and be there for her."

He crushes the realm token right in front of thousands of people.

For five years, I hid my pureblood lord identity. I drained my magic until I literally coughed up blood, quietly paving every step of his way.

I thought we loved each other. I thought after this ceremony we would rise to the top together.

But his casual thanks for everything crushes five years of my devotion into dust.

What is even more laughable is that the moment the online backlash hits Lym, he calls me on the comms.

"Eve! You need to put out a statement to clear this up right now! As my friend, you owe me this!"

Friend?

My hand holding the crystal shakes.

I tried twenty times to finalize my betrothal with Caius for our overseas fellowship, but accidents kept hurting me. I thought it was fate’s test—until I heard him admit he planned it all. He wanted another girl, using my pain to make me quit, all to keep his reputation clean. Now awake, I ended this lie for good.

At the Met Gala, I heard my husband tell his friends in French that I'm "boring." That his 22-year-old girlfriend is "so much more exciting in bed."

He laughed when they asked if I knew. "Elle ne comprend même pas 'bonjour'." (She doesn't even understand 'bonjour'.)

What Marcus doesn't know: I spent two years at the Sorbonne.

Je comprends tout, Marcus. I understand everything.

The diamond necklace he gave me after my miscarriage suddenly feels too tight. I smile at him across the champagne and candlelight.

He has no idea what's coming.

Two years ago, my intended mate walked out of our Moon Rite, the night he was supposed to mark me, with his adopted sister in his arms. He didn't look back once.

That same night, his uncle, the Alpha King, held out his hand and asked if I'd consider a different mate.

I said yes.

Now Marcus is back, sure I've spent two years waiting for him. He laughs at the bite on my neck and calls it a sticker. He blocks my way at my own gates and orders me to apologize to his sister.

He has no idea whose house he's standing outside.

And his fragile little sister has a silver blade tucked up her sleeve.

I didn’t come from money, so Julian’s friends decided I was a gold digger.

His best friend, Sloane, was the worst. She liked to say she used to be a gold digger herself, so she knew my type.

To prove her wrong, I spent three years with Julian without accepting a single expensive gift.

Sloane had an answer for that, too: “She says she doesn’t want anything, but she’s really waiting for him to offer something bigger. It’s called playing hard to get.”

For Julian’s birthday, I spent six months saving up to buy him a watch.

But as I reached the door of the private lounge, I heard Sloane laughing.

“I told you she’d buy something expensive. Textbook gold digger. Spend a little, get a lot.”

Julian sat right beside her. He didn’t defend me.

Then he looked up and asked, “Have you been acting this whole time? Were you just waiting to cash out?”

I stood in the doorway, and the watch suddenly weighed a ton.

I didn’t answer. I just turned around and walked away.

That was the last time he would doubt my feelings.

I was taking my heart back.

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?

On our wedding day, my fiancé left me and an entire room of guests waiting for two full hours so he could go to the airport and pick up the woman he’d never gotten over.

When he finally showed up, he was standing protectively at her side. Then he told me to “be reasonable and stop making a scene.”

In that moment, the love I’d held on to for twelve years simply disappeared.

I threw down my bouquet and called off the wedding right then and there.

Furious, he demanded, “You’re doing this because I was late?”

“Yes. Because you were late.”

I found a black lace panty under my husband's car. Black lace. Definitely not mine.
Three months. That's how long he'd been telling everyone he was done with herm, telling his mom, telling our friends, telling me. I actually believed him. I thought we were finally okay.
Then I found the dash cam footage from the night before, and I heard him tell his buddy he'd never once felt anything real with me. Not in ten years. Not once.
So yeah. He came home. He just never really left her.
I didn't scream. I didn't confront him. Found her address off his phone.Brought a cake and a bottle of wine like I actually gave a damn.
Had my assistant livestream the whole thing.
The second that door opened, half a million people watched me hand him that cake.
"Surprise. Bet you weren't expecting this."

I'm dead.

Died that rainy night, desperate because I couldn't scrape together five thousand dollars to save my dog.

Liam laughed at me over the phone—my childhood friend told me to quit the sob story. His new girlfriend Sarah said I should get on my knees and beg if I wanted her to toss me some scraps. They had no idea every dollar I owed those loan sharks was to cover up Liam's hit-and-run.

My dog died. So I jumped into Black Lake.

It wasn't until they pulled my body from the water that Liam found the surveillance footage in that tin box and realized what a massive mistake he'd made. Then he snapped, dragging Sarah and everyone else who killed me down into the depths, one by one.

Too bad it was already too late.

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.

On our wedding night, my husband wanted to play a game.
Trade secrets. The kind that could destroy you if they ever got out.
He went first.
"I hurt a girl once. At a ski lodge. She shouldn't have been in that room. But she was."
He said it like a parking ticket. Then he took a sip of whiskey and moved on.
My turn.
"I killed someone," I said. "Do you believe me?"
He laughed. He thought I was joking.
He really shouldn't have kissed me after that.

The rules were supposed to keep me safe:

Rule #1: Fix my shattered swimming career.
Rule #2: Hide the crippling panic attacks drowning my future.
Rule #3: Never, ever fall for my new coach.

Too bad Liam James is also my best friend’s brother.

After a tragic accident stole my parents, the pool went from my sanctuary to my worst nightmare. Enter Liam: arrogant, devastatingly intense, and brutally demanding. He thinks I’m a lazy, washed-up athlete wasting his time. I think he’s a heartless tyrant.

But every explosive confrontation at the pool edge only fuels a suffocating, forbidden chemistry we can't ignore.

He’s completely off-limits. Breaking the rules means risking my career, his future, and my best friend’s trust. But when the world spins out of control, his arms are the only place I can finally breathe.

Can we survive the forbidden heat, or will our secrets drag us under?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” I replied, not turning around. “Leaving you.” My hand closed around the door handle.

“Not with my child.”


Married off to him to settle a debt that was never mine, I was nothing more than a contract… a means to an end.

An heir.

That was all Adrian Blackwood ever wanted from me.

Not my love. Not my heart. Not me. But still… I gave it to him anyway.

Year after year, I loved a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him. And when my time was up, when the contract ended and no child tied me to him, I walked away.

Until fate played its cruel joke.

Because just when I finally left him behind, I found out I was carrying his child.

Now the man who never wanted me… refuses to let me go.

Twenty-one-year-old Adrian Blood had nothing — no parents, no money, he was just a scholarship and a girlfriend he thought was worth saving for. Valentine's night stripped even that away. Teresa chose his bully. Ricardo's men put him in the garbage, literally.

Then a voice activated in his head.

The Chosen Heir System doesn't do sympathy — it does missions. Its first order: save the sister of the man who just destroyed him. Adrian ran through the rain, bleeding, and did it anyway.

One mission. One million dollars.

Ricardo Rodriguez has no idea what he just created. And the system is only getting started.

She was my best friend — until she used a soul-swapping potion to steal my body, my face, and my man.
In my past life, I was trapped inside her fat, ugly shell and drowned in the freezing depths of the sea.
Reborn on the day before the swap, I didn't expose her.
I smiled and drank the tea.
After she left, I picked up a knife and carved two deep gashes across my own face.
Then I threw myself from the second floor.
The next morning she woke up giddy with excitement. The moment she looked in the mirror, her screams echoed through the entire hospital.
Meanwhile, I opened my eyes in her Mafia Godfather father's estate — and walked straight into the family council.
She wanted my beauty? She could have it.
The power she was desperate to throw away? I'll take it.

I was the most revered pureblood Light heir.

In my past life, I married the Supreme Holy Knight, Arthur, only to give birth to an Ash-blood cub—the lowest of all.

In a rage, he incinerated my baby alive. He then dragged my bleeding, postpartum body into a saltwater dungeon to drain my magic, leaving me to be devoured by venomous insects.

Meanwhile, my lowly Ash-blood sister miraculously birthed a Light-blood cub. Stepping on my corpse, she became the realm's new ruler.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our Mate-Selection Ceremony. Arthur publicly rejected me and chose my sister.

Seeing his smug, calculating smirk, I knew immediately: he had been reborn, too.

But how could a parasitic knight, who survived entirely by draining his wife's magic to fake a holy bloodline, ever father a supreme dragon?

“You thought you could walk away from me, Rosella?”
He pinned her against the glass wall of his office, the city lights glittering below like witnesses to her downfall.
His fingers curled around her throat as he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“I’m going to take back what you stole, Rosella. Every night. Every moan. Every broken little plea you can’t help but make.”
“And by the time I’m done with you, you won’t remember a life that didn’t revolve around me.”
*
Rosella Summers never did reckless things.
Until one night, she fell into bed with a stranger.
Who turned out to be her ex.
Loving Thorn Rockwell was the biggest risk she ever took. The heir to the Rockwell empire. A blazing-hot racing icon. And a man born so far from her struggling world, loving him felt like trying to catch starlight with bare hands.
Six years ago, they were inseparable.
Then she left. Broke his heart. Disappeared without a trace.
She told herself it was the right thing—that walking away would save him.
But she was wrong.
Now Thorn is back. And he’s her new boss.
The soft boy she once loved is gone. In his place stands a cold, vengeful monster. A man who looks at her not with love, but with the promise of destruction.
He wants to ruin her. Humble her. Have her. Preferably beneath him.
But Thorn doesn’t know the whole truth.
Rosella isn’t just protecting her own heart anymore.
She has Thraia—her five-year-old daughter, her whole world, and a secret that could shatter everyone if Thorn ever finds out.
He wants revenge.
She needs a miracle.
And the only thing more dangerous than his hatred…
Is the love they never truly buried.

Mike Costa was supposed to be the sole heir to the Mafia, but he was betrayed and “abandoned” by his own brother Lucas in a yacht explosion, and everyone believed he was dead.
Five years later, he returns—cold-blooded, powerful, and unshakable. The entire underground world of New York is reshaped beneath him.
Just as Mike is about to settle everything once and for all, Lucas forces him into a political marriage with Chicago’s top family, using the secret of his true identity as leverage.
And when Mike first meets the woman at the top of that power hierarchy, she completely changes the rules of this marriage contract—this time, hunter and prey are no longer clearly defined.

Rhett and I hated each other for ten years.

He hated me because my father drugged his drink and arranged for me to end up in his bed.

He was forced to marry me. Kendall, the stepsister he cherished, couldn’t handle the shock and ran away. She was later kidnapped and murdered outside the city.

I hated him for blaming everything on me. He never touched me, never looked at me, and never spoke a single word to me.

Our marriage became a cold, lonely grave.

Then I was kidnapped.

He stormed into an abandoned warehouse and threw himself between me and the bomb.

Before he died, he said, “Maren, if we get another life, I hope we never meet again.”

When I open my eyes again, I’m back in that hotel room ten years earlier.

Rhett lies on the bed in a Manhattan hotel suite, his shirt hanging open, his skin flushed and his breathing ragged.

This time, I don’t go near him.

I call my father instead.

“Dad, call off the security guards. I don’t want him anymore.”

“Book me a flight out of the country. The sooner, the better.”

A mouth after my best friend Laura jumped to her death following a rape, I was dragged onto a makeshift stage in St. John's High auditorium by a mob of vengeful students.
They accused me of protecting the real rapist—of being complicit in driving Laura to suicide.
My boyfriend Zayne Spencer, also Laura's childhood friend, was coldly pressing the sensors of a "memory extractor" against my temples.
The agony from my terminal illness made me shake violently, but he didn't even flinch.
He stared down at me, his eyes ice-cold. "Helen, last chance. Either you give up that bastard yourself, or I let this machine rip it out of you."
Thousands of students were screaming for my blood.
And Zayne was about to crack open my skull in this livestreamed witch hunt to drag out the so-called culprit.
But he had no idea that when that face finally flashed across the giant screen, the first person to shatter completely would be him.

After a car accident robbed Galvin of his memory, lies twisted him into hating Ellie—the woman he once sacrificed everything to protect.
Tormented and humiliated by him daily, Ellie’s love for Galvin faded completely. He made her sleep like a dog, stripped her before men, and forced her to kneel for his stepsister who stole him from her.
Only when Ellie gave up on love and jumped into the sea did Galvin’s memory return. In the splendid capital, all witnessed a madman desperately searching for his lost wife…

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the duct tape binding my wrists, and the second was that I had been kidnapped by a billionaire mafia boss who grabbed the wrong girl.

I would like to say my first reaction was brave, but it was mostly just panic. I was shoved into a massive stone mansion—the kind with gold columns and chandeliers the size of cars. If I was going to be kidnapped, I honestly expected something a little less... expensive.

I was dragged into a room full of terrifying men in suits. That’s when he walked in. Adrian DeLuca. Tall, broad-shouldered, with intense green eyes and a calmly dangerous physique that made everyone else in the room freeze. He was the CEO of Kidnapping, and annoyingly attractive. He stared at me, his sharp jawline tight, and said calmly, "This isn’t the Viper’s daughter. Who is this?"

I exhaled. "Well, you kidnapped me by mistake. Can I go home now? I have tuition to pay."

But Adrian didn't laugh. He stepped closer, his presence suffocatingly powerful. He had run a background check. "Your mother's maiden name is Volkov," he whispered, his eyes dark with a lethal promise. "The woman we intended to kidnap is the Viper’s daughter... and so are you."

My brain stalled. My absentee father was a ruthless crime lord?

"You are useful to me now," Adrian commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You will remain in this house. You will go where I tell you, and you will do what I tell you."

I glared at him. "You don't own me!"

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. "I do now."

I smile like someone on the edge of violence. "Oh, that's what you're worried about? Relax, I planned for this. I worked overtime for months. All three jobs approved my time off. My bills are paid. My cats are fed. My soul is moisturized. I'm free, Mike."
He shakes his head slowly. "Yeah… no. I can't take you with me."
"What did you just say?" I ask, suddenly forgetting how to breathe through my nose.
"You can't come," he repeats, avoiding my eyes.
I cross my arms. "You promised, Mike. Two years ago, you said you weren't qualified. Then you got promoted, but last year, you went alone. You said you'd take me this year. You promised."
"You need to understand me, dear. I already promised to take someone else. I can't break my word."
"Oh. But you can break your word to me?"
"You're my future wife," he says, tone so rational I want to scream. "We're getting married in six months. You should be understanding, Winter. Do you really want your husband to look bad in front of people?"
I stare at him like he's grown two extra heads. "Mike. Who are you taking?"
He doesn't flinch. "Your cousin, Olivia."


Winter thought the worst thing was being replaced with her cousin… until she crashed the company's luxury retreat, almost drowned, and woke up pretending to have amnesia—right in front of the man who humiliated her.
Now she's stuck playing fake fiancée and sharing a room with a sexy stranger who clearly hates her guts… but can't stop staring at her lips like he wants to ruin her.
With an ex who suddenly cares way too much, her dream career on the line, and revenge heating up faster than the resort's hot tubs, Winter is about to turn heartbreak into the most unforgettable comeback of the year.
But there's just one twist: her fake fiancé is actually the new billionaire chairman of the company… and he's falling for her, hard.

Felicia believed her marriage to Wilson was a perfect love story—until one day everything shattered when she discovered that her husband was having an affair with another woman. Her heart broke, and her pride was deeply wounded. In anger and desperation, Felicia made a decision she had never imagined before: to repay betrayal with betrayal.
On a night filled with overwhelming emotions and alcohol, Felicia accidentally bumped into a stranger. That unexpected encounter turned into a single night that would change her life forever.
A few weeks later, Felicia was shocked to discover that she was pregnant.
But the real shock came when she learned the man’s true identity—he was the husband of the woman who had been having an affair with Wilson, her own husband.

I’m married to a stranger… and I slept with the wrong billionaire.
My name is Elara Ashford.
I’m the adopted daughter the Ashfords sacrificed to save their precious biological child.
Four years ago, the family faced ruin, on the edge of bankruptcy.
A mysterious benefactor stepped in—saving them in exchange for a contract marriage with me.
Rumors said he was hideously ugly, reclusive, too ashamed to show his face.
For four years, he never asked to meet.
I grieved the baby I lost, painted in silence, and waited for our deal to end.
Now, the final year is here.
My unknown husband demands we meet face-to-face.
But things happened earlier than expected? I crash into him at the Serpentine Gallery, paint splattering his Tom Ford suit.
He flips open my sketchbook… and freezes.
That drawing? One I had made in grief for my son, who I had lost — and yet it was identical to his son, Cassian.
The man whose child I drew from grief.
And he is my mysterious contract husband.

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...

In my previous life, on the night of our wedding anniversary, my husband Bryan brought his pregnant mistress, Victoria, into our home. Driven to the edge, I slashed my wrists to force him to kick her out.
No one could have predicted her blood sugar would suddenly crash in the freezing storm outside. She collapsed into a flooded ditch and froze to death before anyone found her.
Everyone ruled it a tragic accident, but Bryan decided her blood was on my hands.
Months later, when I went into labor, he abused his position as my doctor to deliberately delay my care. He left me to writhe through dozens of hours of agonizing contractions and severe hemorrhaging until I bled out.
When, with hands slick with my own blood, I begged him to save our baby, he calmly peeled off his soiled surgical gloves. The look in his eyes was merciless.
"Heartbroken?" he sneered. "Good. Take the brat down to hell with you to keep Victoria company."
An icy, suffocating darkness swallowed me whole.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact night of our anniversary—the very moment Bryan, bringing the freezing rain in with him, protectively guided Victoria through my front door.

My mom tricked me into a blind date on my thirtieth birthday.

I got stuck in traffic and showed up thirty minutes late, fully expecting a lecture about manners.

Instead, I heard a man's voice through the door.

"So she's thirty. And?"

"You say she's too picky. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"You don't like how much she works. Are you signing her paychecks?"

I pushed the door open.

He was in a black shirt, glass of water in hand, perfectly calm. My aunt's face had gone purple.

He saw me and stood up.

"Hi. I'm your blind date."

"I've already been through your relatives once."

"Anything you'd like to add?"

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

The Koch family is the oldest family in the Blue Star Kingdom. As the new generation heir, Chad Koch has encountered many women—some attracted to his wealth, others to his looks, but none genuinely cared for him as a person. Consequently, Chad Koch has perpetually upheld a demeanor of aloofness towards the fairer sex.
Amidst a twist of fate, Daphne emerges as the savior of Chad Koch's venerable grandfather.
Thus unfolds the tale of emotional intricacies between a haughty scion of royalty and a humble maiden of the farmlands.

At our annual family masquerade gala, my best friend, tipsy from champagne, suddenly leaned close to my ear.
"If I ever became another man's mistress, would you still want to be my best friend?"
Before I could recover from the provocative question, she swirled her champagne and continued.
"Actually, I didn't miss yesterday's family meeting because of a migraine."
"The man installed a floor-to-ceiling mirror in his private casino office. He wanted to try something a little crazy with me."
"And that trip to Las Vegas last month? I lied about inspecting the casinos. His wife is about as exciting as a block of wood, so he took me to Monaco on his yacht instead."
My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. I froze.
Then she burst out laughing and patted my shoulder.
"Oh, God, I'm kidding! You should have seen your face."
I slowly exhaled, managing a strained smile.
It wasn't until late that night that I went to the casino with an urgent port smuggling agreement in hand to find my husband.
The moment I opened his office door, I noticed that the original floor-to-ceiling windows had been replaced with a massive one-way mirror.

“Did you ever love me?” Summer Hayes asked her husband once.

Kieran Cross never answered.

For two years, Summer believed their marriage was revenge—cold touches, ruthless control, and silence sharp enough to wound. The billionaire boy she ignored in high school had finally made her pay for it.

Until the night he died saving her.

As their yacht sank beneath freezing waves, Kieran shoved her onto the rescue boat, blood on his lips, and mouthed the words he’d never said before:

“I love you.”

By the time Summer understood the truth, he was gone.

Three years later, destroyed by grief and PTSD, she crashes her car—and wakes up at sixteen.

This time, her mother is alive.
And Kieran is not the untouchable billionaire she remembers, but a poor scholarship student everyone overlooks.

Quiet. Exhausted. Starving himself to support his deaf little sister.

When no one offers him a seat, Summer does.

Because this lifetime, she’ll save the boy who died for her.

But falling for Kieran again may uncover the devastating truth behind the man he became—and why loving her always seems to end in tragedy.

Five years ago, Maya Vale came to a gala with a pregnancy test hidden in her clutch, ready to tell her billionaire husband, Adrian Cross, that they might finally have a child.

Instead, Adrian stood silent while his powerful family accused her of leaking pediatric records, stripped her of her work, and pushed her out of the marriage that should have protected her. Maya left with one secret and one rule: no one from the Cross family would ever get quiet access to her child.

Five years later, Maya returns as the founder of ValeCare and the mother of Lily, the daughter Adrian never knew existed. She did not come back to be claimed. She came back with rules, boundaries, and a life built far away from the Cross name.

But when Adrian sees Lily, the truth breaks open. His regret is immediate, but Maya refuses to let guilt become possession. As old accusations resurface and the Cross family reaches for Lily through schools, headlines, and family pressure, Maya must protect her daughter while forcing Adrian to face the truth he once refused to defend.

Can a man who erased his pregnant wife ever earn the right to stand beside her again?

For three years, I was his hidden wife. His secretary by day, his wife by night. No ring, no ceremony, no recognition. I gave up my medical career to save his dying company.
Then she came back. His first love. He announced her as his fiancée at his victory party. Right in front of me.
He asked for a divorce. I signed.
But he never knew the truth. That I was once the top student of a medical legend. That the secret drawing he found—the one he thought was another man—was actually him. That the woman he discarded is about to become the one he can never reach again.
Now? It's my turn to rise.