4003 Book(s) Related to my football star ex begs me back

Violet loses her parents as a young child and is brought up by an elderly aunt. As she approaches her 17th birthday her life is turned upside down when her Aunt tells her that the life she has built with her must end - she has to go and learn about the background of her father. Secrets have been kept and those secrets turn Violet's life on it's head!

Not only does she have to accept that her father wasn't who she thought he was, but she too, is something she didn't even realise existed! It seems a whole plan had been in place for if something happened to her parents, including learning of her heritage and all it means.
So, Violet is sent to Autumn Moon Pack, where an elderly relative of her father's still lives to give Violet chance to be surrounded by others like her. In truth, she plans to learn what she needs to learn what she needs to and leave to live alone like her father before her.
But will meeting the handsome Beta, who seems quite taken with her, change her mind? And could there be yet more secrets to be revealed?

My ears were ringing in the sudden blast. Both me and James were utterly shocked. We looked at each other with widened eyes. In the meantime a few more guys entered the cafe. Each one of them had guns in their hands. If this isn't a crime movie scene that I'm probably dreaming of right now, please save me God!

'EVERYONE OUT!! one of the gun holding men shouted from behind. The remaining customers ran outside. A proper moment of chaos.

Just when i was trying to get out that boy from earlier grabbed my wrist. Didn't they mean everyone?. A sudden rush of terror flashes over me.

"Where are you going dollface?" I can see his lips twitching up in a smirk. A devilish smirk. I feel my heart just dropped to the ground.

"Meet Isabella Grace, a college student who just wants a peaceful life. But her fate changes drastically in a single night when she meets Toby, the Mafia boss. Will she give in to him, or resist his flames?"

Roxanne thought the worst part of her life was moving.
She was wrong.
On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, the truth unravels—her life has been nothing but a carefully crafted lie. The woman she called mother was never hers. The town she trusted hides things that shouldn’t exist. And the enemies chasing her have been watching for far longer than she realizes.
Because Roxanne carries something rare.
Something deadly.
Something the world believed was extinct.
A bloodline powerful enough to control any Alpha.
Any… except one.
Thrown into a world of hidden packs, ancient secrets, and ruthless enemies, Roxanne must learn to survive before her power awakens fully. But when fate ties her to the one man she cannot dominate—and cannot escape—the line between survival and destruction begins to blur.
Bound by a mate bond that could either save them… or destroy them both, Roxanne is forced to confront the one truth she can’t outrun:
In this world, love is just as deadly as power.

“Hide! Hide!” I yelled, striking Greg violently in the butt. I sensed his astonishment but I didn’t give a damn. If he loved me, he'd understand I was in a precarious situation. “What the hell's happening?!” Greg screamed but I still pushed him into my wardrobe anyway as Fred's voice echoed through the house. I can't imagine the torment I'd face if I was caught in a relationship with a man. 7 years ago, I worked for the Richardson family with my mother and when I lost her to cancer, I decided to drop out of school. However, luck was on my side or so I thought. The Richardson adopted me as their own but when I thought my life was starting to get better, Fred the true son of the family came into my life. It went downhill from there. I became a sex toy for him and it even got worse when my adoptive father joined his son to make my life a misery. I became traumatic. Not even the sweetest prince charming could woo me into liking him. To hell with every man! I hated them all until Greg came along. He loved me more than I loved myself but what could I do? Both father and son of the Richardson family had issued me a stern warning to shut every man out – I was an exclusive property. Would I ever get a shot at true love when my life’s a living hell?

I kept a list. Ninety-eight times my husband chose another woman over me.

Missed birthdays, ruined anniversaries, broken promises—all for his "patient" Sophia, who seemed to have a medical emergency every time we had plans.

"It's just my job, Emma," he would say. "You understand."

Ryan thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He was wrong.

After an incident, I was determined to leave him, and before I left, I gave him an unforgettable "gift."

The day I found out I was carrying twins, my husband offered me $13.5 million for a divorce.

After two and a half years on a $500 monthly allowance, I had one urgent question:

Where did I sign?

Ethan and his girlfriend thought I was hiding my heartbreak.

I was hiding an ultrasound picture—and trying to leave before he changed his mind.

Three-year-old Mia arrived at the Bennett mansion in the rain, carrying a broken stuffed rabbit and an unpaid hospital bill.
“Are you Adrian Bennett?” she asked.
When the coldest billionaire in the city said yes, she held out the bill.
“Good. Dad, you owe me three years of formula.”
Mia came for food—not the Bennett fortune. But hidden inside her rabbit was the dying testimony of the mother the Bennetts had branded a liar.
Now Adrian must prove Mia is his daughter, clear her mother’s name, and uncover who erased their existence three years ago.

For seventeen years, Chloe was the Whitmores’ hidden spare daughter. They harvested her marrow, liver and cornea, then plotted to take her heart for their beloved adopted daughter. Fleeing death through a storm, she is rescued by ruthless power broker Victoria Kane. A faint crescent scar unearths a secret: Chloe is Victoria’s long-lost birth daughter. Together, they will destroy the greedy family that fed on her

I sacrificed ten years of my life in prison for Alaric. I burned my hand in a raging fire, just to save our four-year-old son.
Yet the family I saved abandoned me. My husband favored his scheming stepmother. My own son called me dirty, rejecting his birth mother. To humiliate me, Alaric even bet half a million on my dignity.
Tired of endless humiliation, I chose to leave the cold father and son who broke me completely.
Just as I fell into despair, my childhood sweetheart—now a powerful CEO—returned. He swore to guard me closely, making up for all the warmth I had lost.

"Ivory's six months pregnant. She needs to get back more than you do."

When my husband Donovan said those words at a South African mining disaster site, I knew my marriage was over. Two helicopter seats, three British nationals. He chose to save his mistress instead of his pregnant wife.

"I'm pregnant too," I told him, my voice shaking.

"I know," he replied without emotion. "You're only three months along. You'll manage."

He knew. He knew I was carrying his child, and he was still choosing her over me. Over us.

"You'll manage. You're stronger than anyone," he told me as he left me in a war zone, helping his precious Ivory onto the helicopter like she might break.

Three months pregnant and abandoned, the stress nearly killed me. I had no choice but to terminate the pregnancy – the last tie connecting me to the man who betrayed me.

But I discovered something deeper than just adultery. Something that would destroy them both.

A childhood engagement, two decades in the making. I crossed an ocean for the sole purpose of marrying the heir to the Russell family.

But they led me to an abandoned construction site—where a blood-soaked man was swinging a steel pipe, fighting off ten attackers at once. This, they told me, was "my fiancé."

Bankrupt. Drowning in debt. Scraping by in underground fighting pits. They said he was living like a dog.

Meanwhile, the real heir had his arm around another woman, sneering at me from across the room. "Some gold-digging country girl thinks she deserves me? Find a nobody with the same last name—that's the best she'll ever get."

They made us into a joke—the washed-up loser paired with the clueless village hick.

What they didn't know was that I held several championship belts.

What they also didn't know was that this little "con" of theirs had already begun to unravel the moment I set foot in this city.

He said, "I don't know you. Mind your own business."

Too bad. I'd already made it mine.

This marriage? I was locking it down.

A billionaire offered me $1.5 million a year to marry him and raise his three kids.

He flew overseas the afternoon we signed.

His youngest told the butler to throw me out. His daughter flipped me off. His oldest smiled and asked what he should call me.

I held up the marriage certificate. "Call me Mom."

Two weeks later, his daughter crouched on her bedroom windowsill and swore she'd jump unless I let her go.

I walked over and planted my foot on her shoulder.

My name is Evelyn. I grew up in the slums. Now, I'm the wife of Victor De Luca, head of New York's most feared mafia family.
Outsiders say I left him for money when he had nothing, then shamelessly came crawling back once he rose to power.
Only Victor and I know the truth. He paid five million dollars to drag me back, chain me here like a dog, and lock me away.
He married me, trapped me in this estate, and found new ways to break me every day.
He brought his mistress into our bed. He used his power to grind what was left of my dignity into dust.
But there's one thing he doesn't know.
I'm dying.
I have an inherited bone marrow failure disorder. The same disease that drained my mother dry. Now it's my turn.
Five years ago, I took the money and walked away. I let everyone call me every name they wanted because I couldn't make him watch me waste away.
I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of pain.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
This long, slow torture is almost over.

The day I get diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, I can finally stop selling plasma.

For five years, I thought I was paying for the fire that killed my parents and son, left my brother disabled. Selling plasma, joining drug trials, doing the worst jobs imaginable, all to pay back a debt that wasn't even real.

The doctor says I have a few weeks left. I clutch the diagnosis report and head home to tell them.

The moment I push open the door, I see my parents in the kitchen, the ones who supposedly died in the fire. My brother, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair, stands there raising a glass, laughing with my husband.

My brother shrugs like it's nothing. "The broken leg was fake the whole time. You were the only one hurt in the fire. We just wanted to teach you a lesson, make you appreciate things."

"We were going to tell you eventually." My husband pats my shoulder. "Go apologize to Vanessa. Stop giving her a hard time."

"All the money you gave us went to Vanessa," Dad says. "That's what you get for throwing your bio-daughter status in her face."

I touch the diagnosis in my pocket. Everything was a lie. The only truth is that I'm dying.

"Only one life jacket left!" a crewman shouted as the cruise ship sank.
My husband, Captain Harrison, looked torn between me—his pregnant wife—and Emma, his first love.
Last time, he gave me the jacket, intending to die with Emma. But he survived, and she drowned. To avenge her, he smothered our newborn. "You stole her life," he snarled. I killed him for my baby, bleeding out beside him.
Waking to the deafening sirens, I realize I’ve been reborn. This time, who will get that final life jacket?

I made 17 calls for help. My sister answered every one—and hung up.

For 48 hours, I lay dying in Pine Ridge Forest, texting desperate pleas to my family. They thought I ran away. The truth? My sister deleted every message while I begged for my life.

Three months dead. Zero funeral. My family didn't even notice I was gone.

Now the police have recovered my phone. Every deleted text. Every ignored call. Every lie my sister told to cover up what she did.

"Please. I can't feel my legs. I'm sorry I exist. Just don't let me die here."

They wanted me invisible. I gave them what they wanted.

Now they'll spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd answered when I called.

I was once the beloved daughter of the powerful Alpha and Luna of The Blue Moon Pack. I thought I had everything—a loving family, a protective brother, and a perfect fated mate—Egbert Dolton, the strongest Beta of The Blue Moon Pack and the man I had loved for eighteen years.
But when I turned eighteen, my world shattered.
I discovered that I had been switched at birth and that Audrey was the true heir of the pack.
In an instant, I became the most awkward existence within The Blue Moon Pack.
Though my parents promised I would always be their daughter, when Audrey offended The Rogue King, they didn’t hesitate to make me take the blame and threw me into the infamous rogue den.
I endured torture from silver chains and wolfsbane, my body covered in scars, becoming the lowest slave in the rogue den.
It wasn’t until the fifth year that my brother-Alpha Damon and my former fiancé- Egbert, came to the rogue den to take me back to The Blue Moon Pack.

I, Seren Ashwyn, was Alpha Caius's obedient fiancée--until my sister ran away on the night of his Luna coronation.
He locked silver chains around my limbs, wrapped his hand around my throat, and roared before the entire pack:
"I, Caius Blackstone, reject you as my mate!"
For two years, he whispered like a curse: "You will never escape me, Seren."
But at his grand enthronement, the wolf inside me--silent for twenty years--finally woke.
Not for Caius. For him.
Alpha Thorne Calderis. The ruthless Mad King watching from the VIP gallery.
In one breathless moment, Thorne flipped his table, tore through Caius's guards, and dragged me into his burning arms.
His fangs sank into my neck, branding me with his mark. He looked straight at Caius and growled:
"She is mine. Who dares touch her?"
I watched Caius's eyes turn red with jealousy and regret. Then Thorne carried me away.
But freedom is a lie.
Thorne didn't take me out of love--he took me as a punishment for a betrayal I didn't commit. Will it already be too late to claim the Luna he destroyed?

The day before the wedding, Aurelie learned that her fiancé had cheated on her with her half-sister and devised a strategy to get rid of her.
Wolfless and blind, Aurelie was never considered, even worthy of being eliminated.
Her fiancé handed her over to the most feared and hated Alpha in town, because of his cruel nature, a sadistic Casanova, to pay his gambling debts.
Aurelie did not protest or defend herself, she played along with the game of those who wanted to get rid of her and accepted the wrong groom as her husband.
However, who knows what will happen to the wolfless and blind Omega, when the cruel Alpha decides to take advantage of her, who turns out to have a useful advantage for him.
Will Aurelie survive, or will she die in the Alpha's bed, like the other women he has dated.
"These... handcuffs? And... rope?"
"Don't ask what they're for. You probably don't want to hear it. Now, get on your knees and open your mouth wide!"

You will serve us tonight Avyaane. First with your mouth and then with your pussy. When you're done you can descend to hell and never return!”


Avyaane, an omega with a debt–ridden father, discovers she's mated to the Quads Alphas of her pack – Chad, Logan, Killian and Blair on her nineteenth birthday

But the thing is, she can't fall in love with them, definitely not the very sets of persons who made her life a living hell at Whiston’s College. Especially her ex–boyfriend, Chad, who hates her just as much as she does for a crime she was forced into.

However, things take a drastic turn when a crisis forces Avyaan to live with all four alphas. She finds something shocking about the alpha princes. Something far beyond the princely facade each of them had on.

And when secrets and lies begin to unravel, she realizes that the very ones who tormented her may not be the monsters she thought they were. Can she trust her heart to see beyond the facade? Or let the alpha princes do that for her?

After discovering her wolf's abnormality, Ashira went to find her mate. She was a stealer, a wolf that could provide a pup with any male, even if they were not her mate. It turned out that she was mated with Alpha Aiden! The Alpha of Prime pack, the strongest pack of the North!
She needed Aiden to claim her, to mark her! For her wolf to be accustomed to who she belongs, but Aiden doesn’t want a mate!
"Won't you claim me?" she asked.
"I'm making myself an exception to this tradition," Aiden said in a cold tone.
"You're not claiming me?!" she exclaimed.
"I'll never put my claim on you," was all he said before turning his back on her.

How will Ashira force him to mark her? Her wolf’s abnormality needed his fangs deep in her neck, and now she’s frustrated and desperate!

Read more…

This is a complete story. The first book of The Rare Wolf Series.
Each book in this series can be read as a standalone, but I highly recommend reading them in order, for the best experience.

WARNING!! MATURED CONTENT!!

The heart craves for whatever it wants, Good or bad—

Tiffany had a long time secret Crush on her uncle, who looked more manly and handsome than all the guys she met.

She vows to make him her man, hook or crook. Opportunity presents itself, as her parents suddenly had an urgent business outside the country, and had to travel, leaving her in her uncle's house, for a month.

Things get intense, as her uncle turns out to enjoy her advances towards him, but can't let things go further, because of their relationship.

Will Tiffany be able to finally conquer him or will their relationship be a barrier??

And other Erotica collections.

Isadora Bellini spent her entire life living in the shadow of her twin sister, Giulia—but nothing hurt more than the moment their childhood best friend and her fated mate, Capo Lorenzo, chose Giulia over her. Shattered and humiliated, Isadora disappeared from the Luna Nera Clan, carving out a quiet life among humans. Eight years later, she’s dragged back to the one place she promised never to return—for Giulia’s funeral. What begins as a painful farewell quickly spirals into a storm of secrets, guilt, and dangerously unresolved emotions.
Lorenzo isn’t the same confident Capo who once broke her heart—he’s grieving, broken, and searching for answers. But so is Isadora. As truths begin to unravel—about Giulia’s betrayal, Lorenzo’s rejection, and a past that refuses to stay buried—Isadora finds herself caught between the scars of yesterday and the pull of a bond she tried to erase.
In a world where fate is sealed by blood and moonlight, and love can be the sharpest weapon of all… will Isadora risk everything to uncover the truth, or let her pain write the ending for her?
When love feels like betrayal, how do you trust what your heart still wants?

【This story contains explicit adult (R18) content and BDSM elements. It is strictly for mature readers.】
——
After my family went bankrupt, I was handed over to the mob boss Nathaniel to be his lover. He chained my neck and made me kneel naked by the bed.
"Be a good little canary for me."
Little did I know, my ex-boyfriend was Nathaniel's niece's fiancé, and his nephew had a habit of stealing Nathaniel's favorite women. 
I was forced into affairs with several men until Nathaniel found out. He yanked my hair and thrust into me forcefully. "Tell me, who do you belong to?"
A gunshot rang out, glass shattered, and several men burst into the room. "Nathaniel, you can't keep her all to yourself!"
In this dangerous game of cat and mouse, I became stronger. This time, I would make them kneel at my feet, one by one.
——
Nathaniel's fingers were already coated in slickness as they pumped in and out. Victoria writhed in discomfort. "Not enough... need something... bigger..."
A wicked gleam flashed in Nathaniel's eyes as he reached behind his back and pulled out a small handgun, pressing it against her wet entrance, slowly pushing it in.
"Ah! Mr. Cross, it hurts, I'm gonna break..."

(She's my niece. I know this is a line I should never cross.)

The first time we met was at her grandfather's funeral. She was trembling in black lace, and all I wanted was to pull her close and never let go.
The second time, she showed up at my door soaking wet, the night her fiancé shattered her. I peeled the wet clothes from her skin and told myself I was just being a good uncle.
I lied.
The third time, she whispered we shouldn't. I swallowed every word right off her tongue.
The fourth time, she stopped pretending she wanted to leave.
What she doesn't know is that every favor had a price. Every touch in the dark was a thread, pulling tighter. Every rescue, another lock on the cage I built just for her.
When she uncovers the truth between her fiancé and her stepsister, something clicks.
The obsession. The possession. The way he owns her and calls it love.

She's felt this before.
Because the man who swore to protect her plays the very same game — only he plays it in her bed, and he's far, far better at it.

The System begged me to be an angst heroine. Nothing gets to me, it said.

It offered a hundred million dollars. I asked for one thing: every bit of physical pain goes to the sweet first love my husband can't get over.

So the tearjerker went a little differently.

When he forced me to give her my blood, she screamed and fainted. I finished and went out for pizza.

When she dragged me into the pool, she was the one choking. I was coughing up water and craving a seafood boil.

When he left me with the kidnappers to stay by her side, I took every hit without a sound. She rolled on the floor over a cut on her finger.

In the end, he held me and sobbed as the poison took me.

And across town, the woman every doctor swore was perfectly healthy clawed at her own throat, screaming, "I can't breathe!"

I killed myself because I couldn't survive another day inside Adrian Vale's hatred.

At the funeral home, he took my urn, smiled and said I didn't deserve a grave, or a headstone, or a single person standing over me pretending I'd been worth something.

Then he opened his hand and let me fall. He walked through my ashes without looking back.

Less than a week later, the same man would return to that funeral home in tears and demand that they give me back.

In the third year of my marriage to Damian Spencer, I accidentally scratched his first love.
For that insignificant little scratch, on the evening of my birthday, he personally brought his bodyguards and cornered me in a damp, cold alley.
Without flinching, he had them crush my right hand—the one that held my bow—bone by bone.
He looked down at me coldly as I slumped in the mud, his voice devoid of any warmth: "Just be a good Mrs. Spencer. You don't need this anymore."
Yet later, this same man caged me in his arms like someone possessed, begging again and again—pleading with me not to forget what we'd been.
But all that met him was my empty gaze—hollow, confused, as if he were no one to me.

My family's company went bankrupt, and my father was critically ill.

I dropped out of school and worked multiple jobs every day.

Debt collectors beat me and broke my ribs, but I couldn't afford painkillers.

Every penny I earned went to expensive medicine, all to save my father.

Until I saw my father, who should have been bedridden on oxygen, holding a champagne glass at a hotel banquet hall.

His words pierced through, "Five years, the punishment she earned."

The bankruptcy was fiction. The illness, theater.

All orchestrated because his stepdaughter suffered from depression, and I was her entertainment.

When the doctor finally spoke to me, "Days. You have only days."

I laughed.

The dying one had never been my father.

It had always been me.

Three years ago, my pairs skating partner and I had a beautiful wedding surrounded by friends and family—but we never actually got around to signing the legal papers.
Over those three years, he has stood me up at City Hall exactly twenty-eight times.
One time, he stole my cab while I was burning up with a fever, leaving me shivering on the curb because his new, pampered protégée had a stomachache from drinking too much champagne.
Another time, he blew off our anniversary to rush to her side for a minor sprain.
Every single time we were supposed to finally make our marriage official, his precious junior skater somehow had a devastating emergency.
After twenty-eight broken promises, I finally stopped waiting. I dropped our partnership, shredded our application, and boarded a one-way flight to Milan.
But the moment I completely vanished from his life, the man who couldn't spare an hour to marry me suddenly lost his mind—chasing me across the globe to a city he swore he’d never return to, begging on his knees outside my door for a twenty-ninth chance.

Six years of marriage, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, she would see me someday.
Yet she never gave me a hug, never called our son "sweetheart" once, and couldn't even stand him calling her "Mom."
She said I was calculating, that I was shameless.
I laughed. So, in her eyes, my love was a scam from the very beginning.
So, I signed the divorce papers and left town with our son.
I thought it was all over.
But then she said,
"I'm not leaving you."

Wearing a plain black velvet dress and zero jewelry, I sat quietly in the back row of the Royal Charity, completely invisible among London’s glittering elite.
My only goal tonight? Winning an 1890 Victorian pink diamond for my engagement ring. My family in the Scottish Highlands had just arranged my marriage to Phil Graham, London’s hottest real estate heir.
"Starting at £8,000," the auctioneer announced. I raised my paddle.
Instantly, a flashy woman behind me sneered and raised hers. "Are they letting just anyone into charity galas now?" she loudly mocked to her friends. "Dressed like a department store clerk, and she thinks she can bid on antique jewelry?"
I ignored her, calmly raising my paddle again: "£15,000."
Furious, the woman stood up, her voice echoing across the silent ballroom. "£20,000! I suggest you back off, poor girl. My brother is Phil Graham, CEO of Graham Real Estate. This necklace is mine."
I slowly looked up at her. "Graham Real Estate? What a coincidence. ”
I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé right in front of her.
“Phil?” I said lightly. “It seems your little pet sister is trying to hijack my engagement diamond. How exactly do you want to explain this to me? Should we cancel the wedding?”

Three years ago, I caught Kael holding Layla in his arms.
Layla was pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist.
Kael saw me. His arms stiffened for an instant, but he didn't let go.
"Aurelia, listen to me."
I didn't give him the chance. That night, I picked up our son, Milo, and left the wolf den where I had lived for five years.
But when I woke up, my arms were empty.
I was about to go after my son when my mom Morgaine's talisman lit up.
"There was an avalanche on Dusk Moon Ridge last night. Kael and Layla followed your trail up the mountain and were buried in the snow. The pack searched all night and found nothing."
"Where's Milo?"
Morgaine went quiet for a moment before telling me a band of black wolf marauders had spotted Milo on the mountain path.
Three people. Gone in a single night.
And they all blamed it on me.

Three years ago, I took a bullet for Damon Kingsley. It came within half an inch of my heart.

He looked me in the eyes, his own red, and swore he'd love me for the rest of his life. So I married into this century-old Italian-American Mafia dynasty.

But on our wedding night, the moment he touched me, he convulsed, coughed up blood, and collapsed.

The second time, an old condition flared up and kept him flat on his back for a month.

The third time, he nearly bled out.

Every time after that, the same thing.

The whole family called me a curse. Marked. Bad luck. The kind of woman who brings death to whoever gets close.

The Godmother gave me an ultimatum: get pregnant within a month, or sign the divorce papers and be shipped off to Chicago to marry the devil himself.

I was carrying a fertility tonic to his study, ready to beg him one more time, when I heard voices through the door.

"Mr. Kingsley, please, you gotta stop. Every time you don't wanna go near her, you shoot yourself up with that stuff. You're gonna kill yourself."

Damon was quiet for a long moment. Then, calm and flat: "Aurora is the only woman I love. I'd take the pain any day over touching her."

All this time, while the whole family called me a curse, the one who actually put it on me was the man I almost died for.

Damon Kingsley. After today, we're done. In this life or the next, don't ever cross my path again.

Xie Yijin hated me more than anyone in this world.

He called me vicious as a scorpion, said I schemed about everything, stole all that belonged to Lin Wanwan, and destroyed the one he held dearest.

Xie Yijin shielded Lin Wanwan tightly behind him.
The eyes that once looked at me with such tenderness were now frozen over with unmelting ice.
He pointed straight at me, every word cutting like a blade:

"Shen Zhiyi, why don’t you just die?!"

I froze in place, my fingertips ice-cold.
Unconsciously, I still clutched that crumpled, yellowed candy wrapper.

He had given it to me when he was seven years old,
saying that when I grew up, he would marry me
and buy me candies for the rest of my life.

But now…
he only wanted me dead.

For three years, the man I met online has called me Mistress. I've never seen his face.

Tonight, a bullet tears through my shoulder at my mafia family's welcome dinner. I hide in a linen closet, but the hitman follows me. A silver tag slips from under his shirt: Vee's Good Boy. I gave it to him. He doesn't know the woman behind the door is the one he's been begging to meet.

I text him an order. His gun vanishes from the doorway. Then his footsteps come back.

Following Aunt Helen’s sudden death and the exhausting funeral arrangements, strange things began happening at home.
A lingering warmth on an empty sofa. Faint footsteps echoing in the hallway late at night.
I couldn't shake the creeping certainty that a third person was hiding in the house with my husband and me.
My husband brushed it off, insisting it was nothing more than grief and severe insomnia playing tricks on my mind, and told me not to overthink it.
Then, one morning, he walked through the front door, briefcase in hand, his eyes heavy from an obvious all-nighter. "The institute's data was a total disaster," he explained with a tired sigh. "I was stuck at the lab all night."
I froze, completely at a loss.
"But you came home last night," I stared at him, my voice trembling. "We were in bed, making love for half the night."
He frowned, looking at me with the cold, clinical detachment of a doctor examining a patient. "Maeve, I didn't set foot in this house last night. You need to stop imagining things..."

I got paid to test-sleep an heiress's fiancé.
One problem: he's my boss.
Bigger problem: I've been catfishing him online for six months—as his fiancée.
Now I'm pregnant. And he just called my real name.

My father is the youngest chief of cardiac surgery in the country, the ace of his field.
His hands were the best in the business. Yet on the day my mother had a sudden heart attack and needed an emergency transfer, he turned her away, claiming every operating room was full.
Later, someone photographed him on a sunlit lawn at a country club on the edge of town, showering another woman's daughter with rose petals for her birthday.
My mother died on a gurney, waiting to be saved.
He never showed his face, not even at the burial.
For twenty years, my uncle drove a night-shift cab to put me through medical school.
The day I became the youngest Chief Credentialing Examiner in the history of the State Department of Health, the hospital group sent over a promotion file for a genius young surgeon.
The group's CEO vouched for her personally, his tone unusually low.
"Examiner Lane, this girl is extraordinarily gifted. One signature from you and she becomes the youngest woman ever named Division Chief of Surgery!"
I flipped through her résumé.
When I reached the section for family and emergency contacts, I froze.
I stared at the girl's photo for a long time.
Then I closed the file and said quietly,
"I'm sorry. I won't sign off on her review."

When Fairview University abruptly cuts the women’s hockey program, Ava Hale’s Olympic dreams are practically dead. Her only shot at staying on the ice is taking an unprecedented walk-on tryout for the brutal, championship-hungry men’s Division 1 team.
Walking into an all-male locker room is bad enough. Dealing with Liam Reed, the arrogant 6’2” captain determined to run her off the ice, makes it worse.
But Liam isn’t the real danger.
The real danger is the new head coach, Dominic Carter. Brooding, ruthless, and an ex-hockey prodigy whose NHL career was ended by a severe knee injury, Dominic rules the rink with an iron fist.
He also happens to be Ava’s brand-new stepbrother.
With their newlywed parents away on a four-month European honeymoon, Ava and Dominic are left completely alone in the same house.
At the rink, he treats her like a stranger to keep their secret safe. But late at night behind closed doors, the forbidden heat between them threatens to destroy his career, her roster spot, and both of their lives.

"You're using the embryo that you and Serena made and letting Wendy think that the children she's carrying are hers! Damn, man.I can't believe that you could do something like that to your wife." Adrian's friend said, sounding shocked.
"She deserves it," Adrian replied, followed by his friend's laughter. "She's the reason why Serena broke up with me back then."
What would you do if your husband used your womb to have children with his ex?
Wendy sacrificed everything for her marriage. She endured endless hormone shots, cruel whispers, and quiet humiliation, all to give her husband the children he wanted. When the IVF finally succeeded, she believed she had saved her marriage.
Until the day she overheard the truth. The twins she had fought so hard to carry were never meant to be hers. Her husband never wanted a child with her. She was nothing more than a surrogate in her own marriage.
Determined to find answers, Wendy stormed into the hospital. Fate delivered a twist no one could have seen coming: her husband was severely infertile. The IVF had failed. The babies growing inside her belonged to another man.
Wendy walked away with no tears and no second chances.
But Adrian, the man who once betrayed her, came begging for reconciliation.
"Wendy, we can fix this. We can start over."
Too late.
Because somewhere in the same city, Julian Harrington, the untouchable, relentless, and enigmatic CEO who rules the city's business empire, is searching for the mother of his twins.

On a stormy night, a horrific crash unfolded on the overpass. The victim was brought to the city forensic center.
My husband, Ethan, slipped on his gloves and expertly examined my shattered body, his voice detached. "Record this: Female, approximately twenty-five years old, suffered severe trauma before death."
His assistant sighed. "That's rough. Not a single family member showed up."
Just then, the assistant slid a misshapen silver band off my mud-streaked finger.
"Sir, this ring... isn't it identical to the one you keep in your desk drawer?"
With a sharp clatter, the scalpel slipped from Ethan's hand and hit the floor.

All because I was unaware that Sophia had followed me on the mission, leaving her stranded in the chaotic dockyard.
My husband, Dante, was furious. He ordered his bodyguards to throw me into a seafood transfer warehouse.
“Cool off in the cold storage. Maybe then you’ll understand how helpless Sophia felt trapped in that container.”
It was a refrigeration unit for seafood, kept at a constant zero degrees, the air thick with the smell of fish.
I pounded on the door, pleading for help, but only Dante’s icy voice came through the intercom:
“Stop the act. The temperature in there won’t kill you. Stay inside and reflect until you learn your lesson.”
He cut the internal communication.
The temperature in the cold room kept dropping—someone had switched on the deep-freeze mode!
Shivering uncontrollably, I beat against the door until my nails left bloody scratches on the wall.
In agony, I curled into a ball. My consciousness faded, and my body grew stiff.
On the third day, Dante finally remembered me while celebrating the takeover of new territory.
In a rare show of mercy, he decided to have someone let me out.
But what he didn’t know was that my heart had already stopped beating from hypothermia long before.

The elite circles all whisper that David Ashcroft is the ideal fiancé—cold, untouchable, repulsed by even a woman's fingertips.

Yet when my most intimate photos, leaked by his own hands, flood the internet, I'm left curled on the bathroom floor retching in agony—while my so-called "gynophobic" fiancé toasts with his white moonlight, Celia Davis, at their private club.

My phone lights up with his icy message: ["Remember—never dare to touch me again."]

Then Celia's text stabs through: ["Thanks for the 'portfolio,' dear fiancée. My boyfriend's skills are far more impressive than you imagined~"]

The attached screenshot freezes my blood—David's chat logs, where my photos are auctioned with the caption: ["Just a plaything. Highest bidder wins."]

So this is the truth behind his "disgust for women"—a carefully crafted mask for this long-planned humiliation.

My wife, Vanessa, believed her lover when he said I had hidden his daughter.
So she dragged my parents into a basement, tied them to a support column, and pointed a fake bomb at them over video call.
She wanted me to confess.
But I had nothing to confess.
When the explosion tore through the building, she still thought I was the one who had ruined everything. She came home the next day, blamed me for my mother’s death, then forced me to give blood to the child she thought I had hurt.
By the time Vanessa learned who had truly taken the girl, who had switched the device, and who had destroyed our family, I had already signed the divorce papers.
Some apologies arrive too late to open a closed door.

“Ever since Nora turned thirty-two, her scent’s changed... It’s faded.”
Eight years ago, I found him soaking wet on my doorstep: a nineteen-year-old rogue cast out by his own pack. I took him in. I made him my mate. I gave him my pack, my wealth, everything I owned.
Now my fated mate says I smell old. And that sweet peach scent clinging to his skin? It belongs to a twenty-year-old Omega who calls him “my Alpha.”
He expects me to cry. He expects me to beg.
He forgot who the real Alpha is.
I, Nora Evers, Alpha of the Silver Creek Pack, reject you, Leon Cross, as my mate.
A woman of thirty-two has money, time, and nothing left to prove. She can afford to play. And she can damn well afford to lose.

"Let Aria have the Stanford recommendation. Quinn owes her."
I stared at the family group chat—the one I wasn't in—and let out a cold laugh.
In my past life, I went completely hysterical over this, only to earn my family's disgust and a miserable death.
Now, reborn and given a second chance, I looked at the room full of guests celebrating My success, and walked straight to the microphone.
"Everyone, the party is over. I'm turning down the Stanford spot."
Under my family's stunned gazes, I dumped my champagne into the trash bin.
This rotten family? I'm done with them.

Revenge brought her back. His unwavering love made her stay.

Paisley Hughes opens her eyes three years in the past, at the start of her gilded cage marriage to tycoon Clive Harrington. Haunted by the memory of her tragic end, she is a storm of vengeance, ready to expose the betrayal that awaits. Yet she swiftly uncovers a stunning truth: her powerful, enigmatic husband has loved her silently but fiercely all along.

Thrust into the heart of his family's ruthless succession war, Paisley discovers that Clive's devotion is her greatest weapon. Together, they battle hidden enemies and poisonous alliances. This time, she fights not just to settle scores, but to claim the powerful love and the true family that were always her destiny.

They bred me to be sold--a doll, a bargain, a tool with a crown.
When they gave me to Alric, the werewolf Alpha every soldier fears, I expected chains.
Instead, he saw me. Chose me. Made me feel, for the first time in twenty years, like I was worth something more than my price.
Then my father showed me what he truly is--eyes burning red, hands that can stop a heart between one breath and the next.
Savage. Inhuman. Utterly beyond anything I was ever prepared for.
He saved me. I don't doubt that.
But he is a wolf. I am human.
No amount of tenderness changes what lives underneath his skin--or the fact that the moon goddess never made us for each other.
He reaches for me like I'm something worth keeping.
I'm just not sure I'm brave enough to believe it.
Because what do you do when the only person who ever made you feel alive is the one person you were never meant to love?