2634 Book(s) Related to my incubus stalker

In this prestigious North American university, I was just a lowly physical education teacher, working long hours and being bossed around.
No one knew that two years ago, I was a special forces legend, codenamed "Tyrant," who climbed to the top of the dark web, stepping over the corpses of countless enemies in the abyss of hell.
I thought I had washed the blood off my hands.
Until that day, the only ordinary female student I cared about was lured into a black market industrial park on the Balkan border, facing a butcher's chainsaw.
For five million dollars to save my life, I was willing to swallow all my pride and bow to the school's richest family.
But what I got in return was public humiliation and a beating from the powerful.
They laughed at me, calling me a weakling, saying my life was less than that of a lowly dog.
Watching the video showing only five hours left of life and death, I snapped the spine of the richest man's bodyguard with my bare hands, tearing apart the docile mask I had worn for two years.
Crossing half the globe to storm into a heavily guarded, lawless land?
It had been a long time since I'd stretched my muscles.
It seems the world has forgotten why this dark jungle, filled with warlords and evil, still cannot bear to hear my name!

For my fiancée’s career, I was willing to be the ghost designer behind her for five years.

Until the day of the key bid, she stole the blueprint I had spent two sleepless years perfecting and signed it with the name of her useless first love.

The drawings are gone You can draw them again He needs this project to survive Be sensible she said, impatient when I confronted her

I did not argue My heart went cold I calmly left my engagement ring and my resignation letter and went to Europe

In just three months, without me, she became disgraced and buried in debt While I won Europe’s highest architectural gold award

I watched the once proud her soak in icy water for five hours just to earn a trace of my sympathy

I handed her a basic junior interview form with indifference Want to start over Report to the front desk Start with errands and work your way up

I spent sixteen years bleeding to protect my family, only for them to harvest my power to keep my sister alive.
My sister wanted my fiancé, so my family gave him to her.
My sister wanted my magic, so they pinned me down and carved the dragon scale straight out of my chest.
When she wanted the ultimate power of the Dragon Priestess, they framed me for a crime I didn't commit and chained me in a lightless dungeon so she could take my place to be Crimson Dragon Priestess.
But on the night of the coronation, the legendary Dragon Gate didn't descend upon the royal altar.
It crashed straight through the roof of my prison cell.
And the Dragon God only answers to blood.

I was reborn.
In my past life, for the sake of my childhood sweetheart Chiara, I rushed into a sea of fire to save her lover, but I was disfigured by strong acid. In return, I was rejected and abandoned by her, and ultimately died tragically on the street.
Reborn before the narcotics factory explosion, I coldly turned away from Chiara's pleas for help: "If it's true love, go in and die with her."
This time, I'm not a sycophant anymore; I'm going to make all those who betrayed me pay a bloody price.

During the Yearbook photoshoot, the photographer smiled and gestured for the couples to move closer together.
But Daniel pressed his hand against my shoulder and pushed me straight to the edge of the group, then turned and pulled Harper to his side.
"Harper and I are this year's Valedictorian and Salutatorian. It makes sense for us to stand together—it'll look better for the Yearbook spread."
This wasn't the first time he'd pushed me away.
When I brought him my AP Calculus mistakes, he barely glanced at them before saying my foundation was too weak—don't waste his time.
But when Harper, ranked second in our class, brought him basic algebra questions and played dumb, he didn't notice a thing.
He'd even FaceTime with her until two in the morning, patiently breaking down every single step.
When I wanted to study with him at the library, he'd frown and say I was breaking his focus.
But when Harper dropped just two points on a quiz, he'd skip track practice entirely to take her to the beach and cheer her up.
Right before the photographer pressed the shutter, he couldn't help teasing, "You two are a couple, right? You look like prom king and queen material!"
Daniel looked at Harper, his smile proud and tender. "We're always on the same wavelength."
Harper blushed and ducked her head as the guys from the team whistled and hollered around them.
I stood outside the noise, gripping my phone so hard my knuckles went white. The camera app I'd opened hours ago had already timed out.
The dark screen reflected the dress I'd tried on for hours last night, and the curls I'd ironed over and over again.
God, how stupid of me.
The spot beside him was never meant for me.
And now? I don't want it anymore.

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

Three months after being reunited with the Harrington family, I won £5 million in the lottery.

Then, they kicked me out of the house.

My father, my mother, and that imposter brother—three swindlers—fabricated an apocalyptic lie and used a so-called "heirloom" to steal my lottery ticket.

They didn't know that the end times really were coming.

Unbeknownst to them, the true power of that wristband was—item duplication.

Little did they know, I was the one who had truly been reborn from the apocalypse.

In my past life, they used me as bait, letting me be torn to pieces by the infected.

In this life, 5 million pounds? Go ahead and squander it.

I want to watch them struggle in despair and die in fear.

And I will have unlimited resources at my disposal, on this wasteland—

My aunt publicly shamed me in our family's group chat.
She posted a scandalous tabloid photo of a pregnancy rune, screaming that I was knocked up by a 48-year-old, heavily indebted, curse-infected former goblin hunter.
"You've ruined our family's honor, Seraphina! Marry Silas today and sign the soul-binding contract, or you'll be disowned!" she demanded.
Instantly, the group chat exploded with relatives cursing my name.
They thought I was ruined. My aunt thought her master plan to steal my high-paying bank salary to cover this old creep's gambling debts had finally worked.
What she didn't know? I never drank her tea laced with an illegal Love Bond. I never wore the cursed dress laced with an Obedience Charm.
I sent her own precious, supposedly innocent 20-year-old daughter, Chloe, to the blind date instead.
I calmly saved the photo, zoomed in on the magical signature glowing on the pregnancy rune, drew a bright red circle around it, and hit 'send' to the entire family.
"@Agatha," I typed. "Before you force me into a wedding dress, you might want to read the name on that Foul Fetus. Congratulations, Auntie... you're going to be a grandmother."
The chat went dead silent. Then, my phone rang with Aunt Agatha's hysterical, blood-curdling scream. But the real nightmare for her? This was only step one of my revenge.

I was three months pregnant when I found out my husband had been cheating with the cousin I had kindly taken in.

My son said he wanted her to be his mom, then shoved me down the stairs and caused me to miscarry.

The day I lost the baby, my husband sat beside my bed. His voice was gentle, soft enough to lull someone to sleep.

“Relax,” he said. “You’ll forget all this pain.”

I closed my eyes and let him plant layer after layer of hypnotic commands in my ear.

“When you wake up, you’ll be an obedient wife.”

Now I watch them living happily ever after as a family of three.

They think I’m nothing but an empty shell.

They have no idea that I’ve already posted this plea for help online:

[HELP] My cousin is wearing my sexy nightgown to seduce my husband, I caught them cheating, and my son calls her “Mom.” But I just feel numb. What am I supposed to do?

I died on the operating table—my heart cut out, my unborn child destroyed, my identity stolen by the woman who replaced me.
Now I'm back. At the exact moment they're celebrating my replacement's victory, I step out of the shadows and into the light of my own funeral.
Tonight, I will not beg. I will not cry. I will not give them the satisfaction of watching me break.
Tonight, I become the nightmare they've been running from. For twenty years, they treated me like I was invisible. Let me show them what happens when you ignore the one person who could destroy everything you built.
I am Serena Astor.
The rightful heir.
And I will have my revenge.

When the bridal bouquet landed directly in my arms, the entire reception erupted.
All eyes shifted to Elias, the man I had loved for seven years.
"Propose! Put a ring on it!" the crowd chanted, pushing him toward me.
My heart raced. I thought my endless waiting was finally over.
Instead, Elias stepped up, smiled... and pulled the flowers right out of my hands.
He turned around and shoved them into the arms of his twenty-five-year-old assistant.
"Don't be greedy, Kalinda. Let Mia have the luck today," he chuckled, patting my hair like a pet. "We've got plenty of time. Next time, I promise."
I watched his assistant bury her face in the white peonies, shooting me a triumphant smirk.
I just smiled back.
There isn't going to be a "next time."
My wedding is coming. But he isn't the groom.

"Abort it," my husband said, his voice completely dead.
This was the man who had just fought off the guards to save me. The man who swore to protect me. But after one single croak from that cursed one-eyed raven, he condemned our third child to death.
My in-laws held me down. My own parents watched in cold silence.
As the abortion poison tore through my body and my blood stained the carpet, they all let out a sigh of relief.
Why? Why was this entire family so obsessed with my womb? Why did everyone obey a bird over a doctor?
I thought I had married into a prestigious noble family. I thought I was just a victim of their twisted traditions.
Until midnight, when I dragged my broken body past the study and saw it through the cracked door:
Black candles. A bloody pentagram. And my mother-in-law kneeling before the portrait of a man.
I finally understood the terrifying truth...

On our tenth anniversary, a doctor told me I had three months left.
I called Graham five times before he picked up. He was at a restaurant downtown, cutting the steak on his ex-girlfriend's plate, and he told me to stop acting like a paranoid wife.
So I never told him.
I folded the diagnosis into my coat pocket, went home, and rinsed the blood out of the sink before he walked in. Then I signed away the house, the cars, every share of the firm I helped him build. I left his ring on the coffee table, canceled the number I'd had for ten years, and checked into a hospice with nobody's name on my emergency contact line.
He thought I was throwing a tantrum. He thought I'd come crawling back the second the money ran out.
He didn't find the diagnosis until it was too late to matter.

The day the IVF succeeded was when I realized Michael had deceived me all along.
He had only used me as a surrogate for my sister.
When I confronted him, he tested me, forcing me to kill someone. "Afraid to pull the trigger? Doesn't seem like my kind of woman," he sneered.
I tried to run, but he caught me.
He kept me locked away, forced me to eat foods I was allergic to until I needed my stomach pumped, and chained me to the bed while he went off with her.
I cried until I had no tears left—and finally learned how to hold a gun.

My son Emery scored a perfect SAT and got early admission to MIT Physics. Eighteen years old. His future was limitless.

My billionaire husband Reid's assistant—his mistress in everything but name—suggested Emery attend some garbage local business school instead. Inherit the empire. Fall in line.

Emery said no. Reid exploded.

He locked my son in the lumber yard and ordered him to split five tons of oak. "No water until he's done. That'll teach him respect."

The sun was brutal. My son's asthma attacked. I knelt before Reid's mistress and begged for his inhaler while Reid crushed my right hand—my surgeon's hand.

I got the inhaler and ran back as fast as I could.

But I was too late. My son was already dead.

My daughter has passed away, and my ex-husband abandoned us.

In my darkest hour, my first love, Lysander, reappeared; he covered the medical expenses, married me, and provided me with a home.

For five years, I believed I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Until that fateful day, four months into my pregnancy, when I overheard his conversation with a friend—

“To save Celeste, I thought... who knew it would lead to the death of Seraphina’s daughter?”

“As for Seraphina, she is a good wife, but alas... I do not love her.”

It turned out that my daughter’s death was no accident.

It was revealed that these five years of marriage were merely his quest for atonement.

The one he had always truly loved was Celeste—my ex-husband’s current wife.

As I lay on the operating table, I made a decision—

Since he had taken my daughter’s kidney, I would seize everything from him.

Including what he believed he would never lose: me.

My husband is an angel on an earthly trial. Every time he feels something for me, he endures divine punishment — like his chest is being ripped open from the inside.

But he told me he'd take that pain gladly, as long as it was for me.

He left a mark on my collarbone. Activate it when you're in danger, he said, and I'll rip through anything to get to you.

I believed him.

Then came a mission where I got grabbed by an armed fugitive gang and held in an abandoned warehouse for three straight days of torture and abuse.

No water. No sleep. The tendons in my hands and feet cut one by one.

Half-dead, I used the last of my strength to activate the mark.

And I heard him talking to his angel companion.

"Beckett, why did you give those people Demi's location? You know what they'll do to her."

He didn't even flinch. "She'll be fine. She's the Chosen One — she can't die. They were going after Macie. I didn't have a choice. Once this mission's over, I can petition to stay on earth. I'll make it up to Demi. She gets it."

So that's the price of being understanding. Dying inside a trap he built for me.

My heart just shatters. And I stop fighting.

To help his life-saving benefactor, he personally pressed a pregnant me on the operating table to draw bone marrow.
I cried and begged him, "James, I'm pregnant. It's your child. Don't do this to me..."
But he had a look of disgust in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you'd lie about something like that just to get out of helping Mandy?"
Until there was a river of blood in the operating room and that unformed child turned into a pool of bloody water, he finally panicked.
Later, when he knew that the person who saved him in the fire ten years ago was actually me, he held my ashes and knelt outside the operating room for a full three days.

Five years into our relationship, a floating panel appeared just above Julian’s head, visible only to me: the [Life Priority Meter].
For the longest time, my name securely held the number one spot. That is, until recently, when it plummeted to second place.
The person who knocked me down to claim first? Harper—my best friend of over a decade.
Staring at the stack of wedding invitations on the table, bearing both our names, I knew it was time to wake up from this five-year long dream.

At the engagement party, Julian tore up our agreement on the spot, selling me for a single dollar to Callum, a man rumored to be a bloodthirsty, crippled psychopath.

Our mutual friend frowned.

"Are you out of your mind? Sylvia stayed by your side through your hardest three years, and you're really going to send her off to be tortured by a freak like Callum?"

Julian casually swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"It's just a little punishment. Rosie is carrying my child and needs a title, but Sylvia is too damn proud. Not only did she refuse to step down, but she also upset Rosie and affected her pregnancy."

"Callum is a twisted cripple. Give it three hours, and she'll break down completely. By then, she'll obediently accept Rosie's existence and even willingly stay as my hidden mistress."

The friend looked at my retreating back and couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you afraid you'll push her too far, that she'd rather stay with that psycho than come back to you?"

Julian let out a light scoff.

"Absolutely impossible. She loves me so much she'd give her life for me. Even if she takes a trip to hell, she'll only beg me to be her savior."

I picked up that one-dollar coin from the floor, without a single tear or tantrum.

Later, Julian broke into Callum's estate like a madman, begging me to go back with him.

But the disabled man from the rumors simply stood up, pulled me securely behind him, and sneered, "My wife. Is she someone you are even fit to touch?"

They thought that by forcing me to my death, they could devour everything.

My father jumped off a building, and I became a destitute young master whom everyone could bully. To pay off debts, I married into the Hawthorne family and became their sharpest knife.

After my father-in-law died suddenly, my wife immediately brought her childhood sweetheart into the house and forced me to divorce him.

My resistance resulted in a murder plotted by 928 × 213.

When I opened my eyes again, Chloe, who had been watching over me for three days and three nights, was beside me.

She said, "I'll take you away."

Three years later, I returned as a mysterious investor. The first thing I did was to buy the family's bankrupt old factory for 1.5 billion.

My ex-wife and I bumped into each other on the street; it was like seeing a ghost.

I smiled and stuck a 30 million yuan check on her forehead: "This is to repay the divorce fee you gave me back then. Keep the change."

The real revenge has only just begun.

My brother Miles blames me for our parents' deaths.
So he chose to adopt the deaf Vivian instead of keeping me.
Later, I met Sullivan.
He gave me a grand confession. He chose me, resolutely.
He also said I hired someone to assault Vivian—that I didn't deserve sympathy.
Five years after being cast out of my family, a dismembered female body was found inside a carnival mascot costume.
Miles, now a police officer, led the investigation. Sullivan, now a forensic pathologist, performed the autopsy.
They saw the bloodstained hearing aid and immediately called Vivian.
"I'm fine. I just saw the news—some big case. Should we tell Sis to be careful too? What if something happens to her?"
They refused, almost in unison.
"The moment she killed our parents, she stopped being my sister."
"She was jealous of you. She did too many terrible things. If she's dead, she had it coming."
My soul hovered in the air, watching them. I laughed until I cried.
But when they found out the victim was me—
Why did they both go mad?

My mother-in-law was a spoiled and soft woman.
Fifty years old and she couldn't book a rideshare. Couldn't pick up a package. When the breaker tripped, she cried into a video call to her husband and her son.
The whole family agreed on it. Her only skills were clinging and being adorable.
Then I bled at nine weeks and took myself to the ER.
The OB who picked up my chart was my husband's best female friend. Sable.
She saw me, photographed my chart into their med-school group chat, and hit record.
"Come look, everybody. Dog's wife. Pregnant five minutes and already bleeding from bed."
"Twenty-eight and she's already a geriatric pregnancy. You've got to pace yourself, honey."
The whole room laughed and looked at my stomach.
My face burned white. My nails went numb in my palm.
Thirty minutes later the door hit the wall.
My mother-in-law, the woman who covered her ears in her husband's arms over a tripped fuse, walked in on four-inch heels.
Behind her: hospital administration, the compliance office, and the sitting Chief of Obstetrics.
She pulled the chart out of my hand without lifting her eyes.
"Twenty-eight is advanced maternal age? Normal physiologic fluid, and you called it too much sex?"
"Dr. Smith, is your mouth that filthy because your brain's been marinating in locker-room jokes, or did your ethics get eaten by a dog?"

I've been able to see clocks above people's heads since the day I was born. As long as the hands keep moving, the bond between us is still alive.

Once the hands spin backward and stop at zero, that bond is finished.

When I was seven, the clock over my best friend's head just stopped one day. She drowned in the reservoir the next morning.

When I was fifteen, my grandfather's clock started ticking backward, slower and slower, until it stopped completely. He died peacefully in his sleep that same night.

When I was eighteen, my father, a drunk who lied about everything, slammed the door on his way out. I watched his clock vanish completely and knew right then he was never coming back.

Ever since, clocks scare me. I'm always afraid of watching someone I love get taken away from me.

So I keep my head down, holding on tight to the quiet, stable life I've fought so hard for.

Then tonight, I watch the clock above Marcus Hargrove's head start spinning backward.

What scares me even more is Willow's clock doing the same thing.

While I'm still trying to figure out why, the storm hits that night. He walks out on his daughter while she's burning up with fever and having convulsions, and runs straight to another woman.

His clock jumps back another notch.

Every time my husband’s adopted sister, Avey, had a tennis match, he would force a dark green concoction down my throat. As soon as it kicked in, my entire body would turn weak and aching.
He claimed it was a folk remedy, and I believed him.
In half a year, I lost twenty pounds, half my hair fell out, and I lost our four-month-old baby.
Until the night I overheard them whispering behind a cracked door—they had sought out a witch and cast a dark curse.
My forced standstill was the price for her endless stamina. All her fatigue and sports injuries were being directly transferred to me.
Late that night, listening to them plot to drain the life out of me, I made a choice. On the very night Avey won her championship, I climbed into a deep hibernation pod. I traded thirty days of absolute physical stasis to ensure she could never stop.

The man I marry will become the future leader of the company.
In my previous life, without a second thought, I chose to marry the eldest son
whom I had always liked.
But shortly after our wedding, he came stepsister,
and even took out his frustration of not getting her on me,
going so far as to poison and kill me.
This time around,
I chose his younger brother.
I'll see for myself
if he can spend his life with my sister without me standing in their way. me.
This time around,
I chose his younger brother.
I'll see for myself
if he can spend his life with my sister without me standing in their way.

Sofia married into a brutal mafia clan, trapped in a hollow marriage to distant crime lord Edward. For three years, she's fought a shameful, burning craving for his eighteen-year-old son Ryan—a brooding werewolf heir with golden beast eyes and primal hunger simmering beneath his quiet coldness.
When a risky highway escape forces her onto Ryan's lap, repressed longing erupts into forbidden friction.
Hidden from Edward's line of sight, Ryan marks her, staking primal claim to the woman who should only be his stepmother.
Torn between crippling guilt and addictive obsession, Sofia surrenders to his feral passion.
Until one day, the door swung open...
The taboo stepmother-stepson forbidden love was exposed.

My fiancée, with whom I've been in a relationship for three years, has threatened to break off our engagement for the hundredth time, forcing me to donate a kidney to her adopted brother, who's faking illness and acting like a hypocrite.

My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"

They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.

Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.

"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."

Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.

But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.

The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.

She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.

Asher and Aspen the billionaire twins need a new submissive.
They finally found one who happens to be their new personal assistant Lisa. Since they don’t want to scare her away by coming on her, they decided to seduce her into accepting to be their sub.

The first time they met, Jace looked her in the eye and said, "I don't sleep with virgins. Too much trouble. No satisfaction."
The second time, desire betrayed his rules. "Walk away, Nerissa. Or I'll stop pretending I can resist you."
The 99th time, everything changed. "I don't want to be your lover anymore. I want to be your husband."

To save her father's life, Nerissa offered the only thing she had left — her first night. The buyer? Dr. Jace Whitmore. Cold, powerful, and dangerously untouchable.

For Nerissa, it was supposed to end when the debt was paid.
For Jace, it was just lust. He thought once he tired of Nerissa's body, letting her go would be easy.
But neither of them expected to fall — hard.

As desire deepens into something dangerously close to love, their fragile bond is tested by ruthless enemies, haunting secrets, and the brutal reality of their worlds: hers, humble and struggling; his, ruthless and elite.

Can a relationship born of desperation and desire survive the storm — and turn into something real?

ADRIAN Cole had it all. Wealth, power, a beautiful wife, and a daughter who adored him. But one mistake… one affair… and one phone call from his mistress was enough to shatter the perfect life he thought he controlled.

When Amelia walked away, she didn’t just leave her husband behind, she carried a secret of her own, a secret that would change everything.

Now Adrian is left chasing shadows of the woman who once loved him, realizing too late that money and pride can’t heal the wounds of betrayal. But the road back to Amelia’s heart isn’t just blocked by her pain, it’s poisoned by the jealousy of her own sister, whose hidden hatred runs deeper than anyone could imagine.

Caught between regret, family betrayal, and the fight for the woman he once took for granted, Adrian must prove that his love is real this time. But what if Amelia’s forgiveness is the one thing he can never buy back?

A story of betrayal, heartbreak, and redemption. Will love survive when it’s already too late for sorry?

When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.

My name is Mira. I am the princess of the Nightwood Pack, yet I live like a slave.

Everyone believes I am the cause of my mother’s death. My father, the Alpha, hates me for it. While my twin sister is loved, cherished, and treated like a princess, I am punished, humiliated, and forced to suffer in my own father’s house.

On the night of our eighteenth birthday, Alphas from different packs arrived to celebrate the Blood Moon Festival. That was the night I found my mate, Ashur, the strongest Alpha ever known. I was finally happy. I believed my suffering was over.

That same night, I gave myself to him, and we shared a one-night bond.

But by morning, everything changed.

After my father filled Asher’s ears with lies, calling me a curse, Asher rejected me publicly before the entire pack. As if that pain wasn’t enough, he chose my twin sister as his Luna and left me shattered.

Weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant with Asher’s child.

Then an old wizard appeared with a terrifying prophecy:
The child growing inside me would one day kill my sister, and to stop the prophecy from coming true, I must be killed.

Rule number one: Never fall for the Hockey Alpha.

That was the plan.

Ninety days.
One fake relationship.
No feelings.

I’m a fallen Crescent Moon princess turned scholarship boxer, fighting to save my sick brother while uncovering the truth behind my father’s disappearance.

Luca Silver is the hockey captain, the future Alpha, and the heir to the family I’ve spent years blaming for my downfall.

When a scandal threatens his reputation, he needs a fake girlfriend. I need money and answers.

So we make a deal.

No real kisses.
No emotions.
No falling in love.

Except Luca isn’t just my fake boyfriend.

He’s my roommate.
My enemy.
And my fated mate.

When our bond awakens, the lines between hate and desire begin to blur. But as dark secrets from the past resurface and rival packs close in, I discover my father’s disappearance was never an accident.

The Silver family may not be my enemy.

And falling for my enemy might be the choice that starts a war.

My mother was a lot of things but I never knew she would dare leave her Billionaire husband on the Alter stranded.

My soon to be step-father was a lot of things, but he wasn't one to accept humiliation. And for that reason he made me Amelia, the daughter of my runaway mother to take her place on the alter.

Rachel Green thought she had left her tumultuous past behind. After a bitter divorce from her billionaire husband, Alexander Sterling, she moved to a small town, where she rebuilt her life with her young son, Odegaard—a child Alexander doesn’t know exists. For years, Rachel has lived peacefully, focusing on her son and her career, until fate pulls her back into Alexander’s orbit.

Alexander’s empire is crumbling. His once-thriving marriage to his new wife, Victoria, is on the verge of collapse. Desperate to salvage his failing business, he discovers a shocking secret: Rachel’s new start was funded by a rival CEO, Daniel Kane, Alexander’s sworn enemy.

When Alexander confronts Rachel, his initial anger turns into confusion as buried feelings resurface. He’s determined to win her back, but Rachel is no longer the woman he once knew. Stronger and wiser, she has no intention of being hurt again.

As the sparks between them reignite, Rachel’s secret threatens to unravel everything. Odegaard is Alexander’s son, and Victoria is not willing to let Alexander go without a fight. Meanwhile, Daniel sees Rachel as more than just an ally—he’s fallen for her and is ready to do whatever it takes to keep her by his side.

In a zombie apocalypse, survivors build a fortress-like base. My girlfriend and I are its lead researchers, racing to create the serum that could end the world’s collapse.

On a sampling run outside the walls, she chooses to save the “genius” colleague she just brought back—and leaves me behind to be swallowed by a horde.

With no way out, I inject myself with an unfinished prototype. I survive… but I come back as a zombie.

The difference is: I don’t lose my mind. I keep my human intelligence—and I can command other zombies. They bow instinctively, as if they’ve sensed a king.

Inside the base, that so-called genius is working with raiders beyond the walls, pushing a fake serum to control the troops and selling the defenses piece by piece to the enemy.

As the base collapses, the drugged soldiers turn on each other atop the ramparts. The chain of command snaps. Everyone is waiting to die.

Then—at the moment the walls give way and screams drown out gunfire—I stand on the ruins outside, raise my hand, and sweep it forward.

The horde behind me doesn’t attack the survivors. Like a disciplined army, it bypasses them and surgically crushes every invader.

Only then does the woman who abandoned me realize what she destroyed.

But I don’t need her regret anymore.

Four years ago, I left on a top-secret mission, and everyone assumed I was dead.

Four years later, I returned expecting a joyful homecoming, only to be struck by a devastating nightmare: three years ago, a local cartel hanged my wife from the rafters, and my ten-year-old son was locked in a cellar, suffering unimaginable abuse.

Right now, in a local dive bar, my enemies have a gun pressed to my head. They’re laughing, mocking me, thinking I'm just some washed-up, helpless veteran they can easily crush.

But what they don't know is that just ten minutes ago, I severed the only fiber-optic cable connecting this town to the outside world.

The hunt has officially begun...

The day I achieved telepathic breakthrough, I heard my fiancée's inner voice telling me to "get lost."
In the restaurant, she abandoned me as I coughed up blood to embrace another man.
I signed the death contract for the meat grinder frontline, determined to die, but when bone spikes pierced through my chest, my telepathy revealed the truth—she pushed me away not because she didn't love me, but because she had been bitten by a zombie three years ago.

On the third day after the Ice Age began on Earth, the temperature plummeted to minus fifty degrees Celsius, and human civilization disintegrated in the extreme cold.

My name is Anson, an ordinary convenience store clerk. After the apocalypse broke out, I risked my life to drive to pick up my mother-in-law Martha and her family and take them to a shelter.

Along the way, I unexpectedly discovered a large supermarket with abundant supplies, and I collected supplies with my wife Erin, mother-in-law Martha, father-in-law George, and brother-in-law Tom.

Just as we were about to leave with two trucks full of life-saving supplies, my mother-in-law, Martha, tricked me into going deep into the warehouse to move some goods. Then they locked the iron gate and drove away, leaving me to die in the supermarket surrounded by icy beasts.

In that moment of despair and waiting for death, the [Ice Fishing System] activated in my mind...

Six months ago, a yacht explosion consumed everyone I loved: my husband Leonard, my parents, and my brother.
I escaped only because of stomach pain that kept me from boarding. My adopted sister Claire became the sole survivor.
Since then, I've become an empty shell.
Even after being diagnosed with terminal uterine cancer, even while carrying my late husband's child, I've endured the agony of chemotherapy alone, exhausting what little strength remains to scrape together money for Claire—who hides away in a private care facility, claiming severe PTSD.
Until this winter day, with a blizzard approaching.
Dragging my dying body to my husband's memorial to pay respects, I discovered a credit card statement—charges made three months after his death.
Following the address on that receipt, I pushed open the door of a luxurious suburban villa.
Inside, it was warm as spring. My parents and brother, who should have been at the bottom of the ocean, stood there perfectly alive.
At the center of the room, my husband—the man I'd grieved for day and night—was kissing my adopted sister, his lips tender against hers.
The whole family was celebrating, raising glasses to toast the infant cradled in Claire's arms—barely a month old.
There had never been any disaster at sea.
It was all a meticulously planned hoax—their twisted way to erase me from their lives forever.

In order to prolong the life of my supposedly sick "white moonlight" (my love interest), my wife forced me onto the operating table and removed my kidney while I was still alive.

To force me to leave with nothing, she even cut off my mother's medication, coldly declaring, "Your mother is just a liability that deserves to be optimized."

She thought I would wag my tail and beg for mercy like a stray dog.

Little did she know, suffering from single kidney failure, I transformed myself into the deadliest viral code before my death, dragging her business empire and that male mistress into an inescapable hell.

On the day the truth came to light, the once-powerful tech queen went completely mad. She squandered her fortune, kneeling in the frost of the morgue, kowtowing and weeping blood, begging me to look at her one last time. But she couldn't find a single hair of mine.

Because I had already made a will, ordering my remains to be cremated as high-risk medical waste.

She treated me like dirt when she was alive, and after she died, I found her disgusting and didn't even bother to leave her a handful of ashes.

I died on the barren wasteland in a raging blizzard.
Before my death, many from the pack came to say goodbye.
Even Seraphina, my lifelong rival, came.
Only Kael, my Alpha mate of five years, was absent.
He was with that rogue Jennifer, watching the moon's reflection in Silver Moon Falls.
In my final moments, I received his mind-link.
"When the Moon Goddess guided me to find you as my fated mate, you were just a Beta. To inherit the Alpha position, I had no choice but to choose you. All these years I've been giving you suppressants, forbidding you from getting pregnant, and you agreed to it all. You've been a competent Luna."
"If there's a next life, I'll still choose you. In this life, rest in peace. I'll personally arrange your funeral."
Sensing this mind-link, my rival Seraphina sneered mockingly: "Karolyn, you really weren't cut out to be a Luna."
"In the next life, don't compete with me anymore."
Her words proved prophetic. When I opened my eyes again, we had both returned to the day of the Darkwood family's mate selection ceremony.
Kael said coldly: "Karolyn, the Moon Goddess has chosen you as my fated mate. You will be Darkwood's Luna."
Without hesitation, I stepped back and pointed to Seraphina.
"I think the Luna position is better suited for Seraphina."

"Call me brother," he whispered, pressing me against the wall, his erection hard against my stomach.
For twelve years, we played this dangerous game. By day, I was his obedient foster sister. By night, I was his obsession.
He never went all the way—saving me for marriage, he claimed—but he did everything else. His fingers knew every wet corner of my body. His mouth had tasted my pleasure a thousand times. He groomed me to be the perfect toy for his bed.
"You're mine, Julie. Only mine."
But then Lena came back.
Suddenly, the bedroom door was locked. Suddenly, I heard her screams of pleasure instead of mine.
He didn't touch me anymore. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, "You're just a sister. Stop acting like a jealous lover."
He threw away twelve years of intimacy for a fresh body.
I packed my bags, leaving behind the lingerie he bought me, the toys we used.
When he finally realized Lena was a fake, he came running back, eyes wild, wanting to claim what he thought was still his property.
"Spread your legs for me, Julie," he begged, reaching for me.
I slapped his hand away. "Go fuck your sister, Daniel. I'm done."

My best friend Bella had a cluster of mushrooms growing on her back, every color you could imagine.

They throbbed like something alive, and the smell coming off them was like nothing I'd ever smelled.

She called it Moonlight Bloom, a gift straight from Viscount Lucas himself.

If she kept that thing on her body for forty days, not one more, not one less, until it bloomed its brightest spores, the viscount would marry her and take her into his estate.

So she refused to shower. Wouldn't let a drop of water touch her.

Everyone in the pack knew me as the one who always looked out for people, and I figured she'd been cursed with dark magic. So one night while she slept, I grabbed a bucket of soapy water and a stiff brush and scrubbed that thing clean off her back.

The next morning, she ran her hand over the raw patch of skin where it used to be, grabbed a silver dagger, and drove it straight through my heart.

"You jealous bitch! You just ruined my whole future!"

Bleeding out on the floor, that's when it hit me. She never cared how disgusting that thing was, or what it was doing to her body. All she cared about was marrying into money and status.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back in time.

This time around, I decided I wasn't going to stick my nose where it didn't belong. I was going to sit back and watch that mushroom grow.

I was a billionaire's canary. Never asked for it — but every time I slept with him, he paid another chunk of my mom's medical bills. Later he made me his secretary, and stupidly, I thought we'd built something real. Turns out I was wrong. He drained my entire savings to buy his mistress a $500K necklace. "What do you mean, your money?" he sneered. "Every penny came from me." I begged. He laughed. Then the hospital called: Mom didn't make it. That's when I stopped being anyone's canary — and started billing him back, in full.

I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was ten years old.
At first, my parents were terrified. They watched me closely, rushed me to the hospital over every bruise, every nosebleed. I was the fragile one—the child who needed saving.

Then years passed.
They got used to it.
They got tired.

By the time my twin sister was graduating and my family was finally breathing again, I was about to turn eighteen.
And that night, while everyone believed I’d be fine like always, I bled to death.

Everyone says I'm lucky— a noble lady from the Miller family, doors open for me when I walk out, heads bow when I come home.
But deep down, I know the truth. I live like a “spare”: covering for my father’s mistakes, taking the fall for my stepsister.
Even the bodyguard I thought I could rely on is only here for Emma.
I caught him using Emma's photo to relieve himself, heard his Underboss mock him for acting as a bodyguard to me, just to make Emma feel his heart.
He was my bodyguard, yet when danger struck, he shielded Emma.
When I lashed out at him, punishing him for Emma’s faults, he secretly returned the favor, giving me ninety-nine lashes in retaliation.
Finally, I agreed to marry into the Jones Family and became the “vegetative Don’s” wife.
I took the money, moved to Manhattan, and became the most dignified Mrs. Jones: keeping watch over a mute husband, at least no longer having to worry about a knife in my heart.

Before the wedding, my fiancé, Alpha Kendrick, stood in front of me. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, but so did hope.
“Can you give me a month?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
A month. Time to see if he could patch things up with Elena Manwaring—his ex-girlfriend. His fated mate.
“If it works out,” he continued, the words deliberate, like he was convincing himself as much as me, “then it’s the Moon Goddess’s blessing. But if it doesn’t… I’ll come back. I’ll marry you. And I’ll leave her behind—forever.”
He meant it. He truly believed this was the honorable thing to do.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile tug at my lips.
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “Give it a try. Life’s too short for regrets, right?”
Relief broke over his face like a wave, as though I’d just untangled him from a chain he hadn’t known how to break. That night, he drove off, lighter than I’d seen him in months.