4717 Book(s) Related to my ex s mafia father wants me

1

When we moved to the estate on the hill, all the bedrooms had already been assigned.
My parents had the primary suite.
My brother, Adrian, had the east wing.
The south suite, with its view of the Hudson—the nicest room in the house—was marked Grace's Room.
There was no room with my name on it.
In the hall, a worker was fastening brass plaques to the bedroom doors.
Not one of them read Claire.
Ten years earlier, Grace's father had been my dad's underboss. He had gone into a burning warehouse to rescue Adrian from the Bellinis. He hadn't come out.
Standing over his coffin, Dad had declared that Grace would be his daughter from then on.
What the Don said was law in our family. Somehow, though, I was always the one expected to cover the cost of that promise.
I asked Mom where I would sleep.
“You're going off to grad school soon, aren't you?” she said, as if it were obvious. “What would you need a bedroom for?”
Then she turned back to the pink curtains she was choosing with Grace.
Adrian knelt on the floor, lifting different fabric swatches for them to see.
Nathan, my boyfriend of three years, was putting up Grace's paintings. He insisted on hanging each one himself; apparently the movers couldn't be trusted with them.
Sitting on a packing box, I finally got it.
Nobody had overlooked me by accident.
They thought Grace should have the room, the family, even the boyfriend I had believed was mine.
I brought up the agreement on my phone.
A federal research site in the Nevada desert. Classified work.
A five-year commitment, with no outside contact.
I added my signature.
Ten days from now, I would be out of their lives. And I wouldn't be coming back.

My boyfriend, Ethan Whitmore, has prosopagnosia. He can't remember faces unless he's looking right at them.
At our wedding send-off dinner, my roommate blindfolded him and challenged him to name three things about the woman he'd loved for four years.
"Big eyes. Small face," he said.
My heart nearly burst with happiness.
Even blindfolded, he still remembered me.
Then he smiled and added, "And there's a little mark behind her right ear. Cute."
My heart stopped.
Because I don't have a mark behind my ear.
The girl who does is Vivian Blake, the one who's been in his life for only eight months.
Four years of love, and he still couldn't remember me.
But eight months with her, and he knew every little detail.
I looked down at the promise ring spinning loosely around my finger, the tiny cartoon cat stamped into the band.
Ill-fitting. Thoughtless. Just like Ethan's love for me.
So I decided I would stop trying to leave a mark on a man who had never truly seen me.

I am Mandy Langley, 42 years old, CEO of Sterling International. In Manhattan's cutthroat business world, I'd earned the name "Ice Queen."
Five years divorced, my ex-husband's parting words still stung—he'd called me cold as stone, said I was nothing but a dictator even in bed.
He had no idea my frost was a facade, hiding an emptiness and a craving no one could touch.
I controlled billions in assets, yet I lay awake every night, consumed by a single thought: I wanted a man to make me let go, to force me to surrender completely.
That man walked into my office three years ago, and I'd been drowning ever since.
Allen Thorne, my chief assistant, 28 years old—too young, shamefully young, and yet I couldn't resist him.
A year ago, I discovered the truth: he was the CEO of Vortex Capital, my rival, planted here to destroy me.
I should've fired him on the spot. Instead, I kept him close, pretending it was to watch him, when really, I just couldn't let him go.
Dangerous, magnetic, ruthlessly in control—he was everything I shouldn't want. I never exposed him. I fell harder instead.
I buried this forbidden desire, but every day he was there, right in front of me, taunting me.
What was I supposed to do? Cut him loose—or let him claim me?

We’ve been married for almost a month, yet my Alpha keeps hiding in the study to avoid me.
He would rather give me a cheap vial of synthetic bonding pheromones than bare his fangs at me.
I thought I was just the unwanted substitute for my runaway sister, that he felt absolutely nothing for me.
I slammed the door and left, heading to the Moon Well to confide. But the moment my blood dripped in, the Alpha's voice echoed:
"I finally married her... but I was born with a curse. How do I mark her without hurting her the moment I bite down..."

In my past life , I was delivering supplies in the scorching heat of the apocalypse , only to have my ex-wife 's lover smash my head with a stick.
daughter, whom I've spoiled for sixteen years, looked at me with disgust: "Pretending to be a good girl is disgusting. Kill him and take his supplies."
When she opened her eyes again, her daughter had been reborn.
She cried and clung to my legs, begging to be taken in, all to trick me into believing she was building a shelter.
I decided to play along, spending all my savings to build her a top-of-the-line temperature-controlled fortress, and then "meticulously" teaching her the secrets of switching on the electric grid.
As the apocalypse arrives, the ex-wife and her lover launch a night raid on the high wall.
my daughter pressed the switch, trying to let her father in and kick me out the door.
The next second, with a loud "boom," the multi-million-volt high-voltage power grid was instantly activated !
The daughter collapsed in the control room, trembling : "Why is the switch upside down?!"

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

Five years into living with my stepbrother Gideon, the scholarship girl he sponsored moved into our house.
To repay his "generosity," she made a habit of slipping into his bed at night. By day, she took it upon herself to "fix" my antisocial, withdrawn personality.
Three days before St. George Prep's graduation ceremony, she brought me a glass of juice wearing that nauseating sugar-sweet smile.
"You know, Charlotte, your peanut allergy is probably psychosomatic. You just need some exposure therapy. Let me help you get over it."
That night, my throat closed completely. She'd deliberately laced my drink with concentrated peanut extract.
I convulsed on the cold hardwood floor, vision tunneling as oxygen fled my lungs.
In the last second before darkness swallowed me whole, I clawed desperately toward the half-open door.
Standing in the hallway were my boyfriend Dylan and my stepbrother Gideon.
They simply watched me suffocate. Then Gideon calmly reached out and shut the door.
I died from anaphylactic shock.
Three months later, as a ghost tethered to this world, I watched her stride onto Stanford's campus. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my acceptance letter. Burning through my trust fund.
Through the crowd, I saw Gideon—my ice-cold, unreachable stepbrother—gently cradle her face and press his lips to hers.
Then I gasped awake.
I was back. Three days before graduation.

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

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

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

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

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

My wife found a tissue in my car, blotted with another woman's lipstick.

She looked at it for one second. Then she tucked it right back where she found it.

I wasn't worried. Audrey has loved me for fourteen years. She answers my texts in under a minute. She'd never leave me over some mistress.

So I took my mistress to Key West and stretched a long weekend into eight days, just to remind my wife who runs our house.

I came home to a dark, empty house.

I found my daughter in a hospital bed, with my best friend sitting at her side.

And when I demanded to know how long Audrey had known, she didn't cry. She didn't yell.

She just pulled a folder out of her bag and smiled.

My father chose two vampires as marriage prospects for my sister and me.

One was an immensely powerful pureblood aristocrat.

The other was Cassian, crippled by a silver curse. Confined to a wheelchair, he was a laughingstock—wracked by phantom pains and constantly on the verge of madness.

In my past life, I chose Cassian.

I drained my own blood to ease his agonizing curse. I shielded him from the relentless mockery of the Vampire Court. I even gambled my life in werewolf territory to beg for his cure.

But he never seemed to get better.

I didn't care. I remember holding his hand and telling him, "It doesn't matter. No matter what happens to you, I will always stay by your side."

Until the accident. A pack of rogue werewolves ambushed us.

Cassian shoved me precisely into the path of their claws.

Just to shield my sister, Serena, from the fatal blow.

Silver claws completely shredded my throat.

Through my fading vision, I watched Cassian stand up from his wheelchair.

The terrifying aura of a Vampire Lord erupted from him, crushing the werewolves instantly. Countless night-thralls emerged from the shadows, dropping to their knees at his feet.

That was when I understood. He was never paralyzed, and he was never mad.

Because Serena hadn't chosen him, and because he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, he faked the illness to disgust me for years.

Then, he used my life to save his true love.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you. But I couldn't just watch Serena die."

"Elara... whatever I owe you, I'll repay in the next life."

In the bone-piercing cold, I took my last breath.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the exact day my father forced us to make our choice.

My husband used my cottage to cheat on me. Fine. I found out, I drove three hours, and I walked into my own house to find his mistress wearing my dead grandmother's sweater.
She told me to leave.
He showed up, kissed her in front of me, then grabbed my arm and shoved me into the door frame.
That's when I had the asthma attack. He's known about my asthma for five years.
My inhaler rolled across the porch floor. His mistress picked it up, held it out, and told me to sign a statement saying I'd caused all of this. Then she'd give it back.
He looked at me on the ground and said: She's performing.
I'm sitting on the floor of my own grandmother's house, gasping, and my husband is telling the neighbors I'm acting.
Nobody thought to ask whose family manages every property on this coastline.

I used to be the most envied female on the continent. Three mates: werewolf Alpha Kael, vampire lord Dorian, elven ranger Seth. All of them mine.
Then a half-elf drifter named Ayla showed up, and everything I had started belonging to her instead, one piece at a time.
Kael once pulled a fang from his own mouth to make me a necklace. The day it broke, he was too busy licking another female's cut finger to notice.
Dorian spent two weeks brewing me blood wine. Then he handed the cup straight to her, because apparently I "looked healthy enough to go without."
Seth carved me a charm from sacred elven wood. I watched her face take shape under his knife instead of mine.
They kept telling me I needed to grow up. So when a beast's poison was spreading through my body, and I blew the whistle they swore would bring them running no matter what—
No one came.
Three years later, I walked back into their world on a Siren prince's arm.
This time, they're the ones begging for my forgiveness.

It was my second year back in this house.
My name was Evelyn, the biological daughter who got lost in Central Park at seven.
During the ten years I stayed missing, I fed pigs on a remote farm in Eastern Europe. In weather that dropped to dozens below zero, I got beaten for working too slowly.
I did not get brought back until I was seventeen, covered in scars, returned to this so-called “home,” luxurious to the point of being blinding.
To be honest, every time I watched them sit on silk sofas and sip afternoon tea, then thought about the decade I spent crawling through hell, hatred made my teeth ache.
That hatred stood between us and made the house feel like an icebox. We lived under the same roof, yet we were not even as close as strangers.

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

"My sister threatens to take my mate. And I let her keep him."
Born without a wolf, Seraphina is the disgrace of her pack—until a drunken night leaves her pregnant and married to Kieran, the ruthless Alpha who never wanted her.
But their decade-long marriage was no fairytale.
For ten years, she endured the humiliation: No Luna title. No mating mark. Just cold sheets and colder stares.
When her perfect sister returned, Kieran filed for divorce the same night. And her family was happy to see her marriage broken.
Seraphina didn't fight but left silently. However, when danger struck, shocking truths emerged:
☽ That night wasn't an accident
☽ Her "defect" is actually a rare gift
☽ And now every Alpha—including her ex-husband—will fight to claim her
Too bad she's done being owned.


Kieran's growl vibrated through my bones as he pinned me against the wall. The heat of him seared through layers of fabric.
"You think leaving is that easy, Seraphina?" His teeth grazed the unmarked skin of my throat. "You. Are. Mine."
A hot palm slid up my thigh. "No one else will ever touch you."
"You had ten years to claim me, Alpha." I bared my teeth in a smile. "Funny how you only remember I'm yours... when I'm walking away."

Vanessa, an omega in the Blood Moon Pack, suffered a devastating blow when the Alpha's son spurned her in favor of another. Seeking solace elsewhere, she eventually returns to her pack, only to be greeted by tragedy: the untimely passing of the beloved Luna, the woman who raised her.
In the midst of grief and upheaval, Vanessa’s world is further rocked when she discovers she's been chosen as the Alpha's second chance mate. Alpha Alexander, grappling with unexpected emotions and the significant age gap between them, struggles to come to terms with this twist of fate—especially considering Vanessa was once rejected by his own son.
As tensions rise and emotions run high, Alpha Alexander’s conflicted feelings lead him to make a rash decision: to punish Vanessa for a drunken mistake made in the heat of the moment. But as the lines blur between duty, desire, and resentment, both Vanessa and Alpha Alexander find themselves on a collision course with destiny.

Vanessa, an omega in the Blood Moon Pack, suffered a devastating blow when the Alpha's son spurned her in favor of another. Seeking solace elsewhere, she eventually returns to her pack, only to be greeted by tragedy: the untimely passing of the beloved Luna, the woman who raised her.

In the midst of grief and upheaval, Vanessa’s world is further rocked when she discovers she's been chosen as the Alpha's second chance mate. Alpha Alexander, grappling with unexpected emotions and the significant age gap between them, struggles to come to terms with this twist of fate especially considering Vanessa was once rejected by his own son.

As tensions rise and emotions run high, Alpha Alexander’s conflicted feelings lead him to make a rash decision: to punish Vanessa for a drunken mistake made in the heat of the moment. But as the lines blur between duty, desire, and resentment, both Vanessa and Alpha Alexander find themselves on a collision course with destiny.

"Open wide, Golden Boy. I know you’ve been imagining sucking my cock in your head the entire practice."

​The cold floor of the locker room is bruising my knees, but it’s nothing compared to the grip Michael Rossi has on my hair.

My mouth is stretched tight around his cock, my heart hammering against my ribs in a rhythm of pure, unadulterated shame.

I’m the star defenseman for the Knights, the disciplined, untouchable Axel Thorne, and yet here I am, choking on the pride of my greatest enemy while he talks to me like I’m his favorite toy.

They call Michael Rossi the “Menace,” and for once, the media isn't exaggerating. He’s the jagged edge of the Rebels’ front line,a dirty, arrogant prick with a god complex. I’ve hated him since the night he stole my girlfriend just to prove he could.

For eighteen months, he’s dismantled my peace, chirping in my ear and checking me into the boards with a smirk.

​Now, a viral "spite kiss" has trapped us in a PR contract. To save my career, I have to be his boyfriend. I’m supposed to play along with the man who ruined my life, but the closer I get, the more I realize the rivalry was just the beginning.


​Axel Thorne is the "Golden Boy", disciplined, loved, and blissfully oblivious. He thinks I’m the villain who stole his girl; he doesn’t realize I only did it to see the look in his eyes.

This rivalry was never about the game; it was about obsession. I’ve spent every restless night imagining how it would feel to finally claim him.

​Axel thinks we’re faking it to save our career.

He’s wrong.

I’m playing a game where he only wins by losing himself to me.

Grace thought New York would be her fresh start until she loses the competition she was hoping for, and ends up in a one-night stand with a mysterious stranger who touched her like he already knew her. Like he had no intention of forgetting her.

By morning, he’s vanished without a word, leaving her with no clue of who he is and a pregnancy she had to deal with.

Years later, Grace has moved on. She’s in love again, and her boyfriend Nicholas Santos is about to propose and give her the future she’s always wanted. But when he takes her home to meet his family, her world crashes.

Because standing across the room is Nick’s older brother, the same man she swore she’d never see again. The man whose hands she still remembers, whose absence nearly broke her…The man who has no idea he’s the father of her child.

Now, caught between the man who healed her heart and the one who awakened it, Grace is pulled into a storm of buried desires, dangerous secrets, and a chemistry that refuses to stay in the past.

Because some nights aren’t meant to be forgotten… And some flames were never meant to burn out.

For five years, my husband claimed he could not understand emotion.

I believed him, excused every broken promise, and taught myself to survive on scraps of attention.

Then I went to his office with news of our unborn child and heard him laughing with the woman who had helped him deceive me.

He had married me for a pureblood heir. Once the baby was born, he planned to throw me away.

He wanted an heir from a devoted wife. Instead, I gave him a funeral.

In the end-stage of acute heart failure, the life-saving heart I had waited three grueling years for was secretly reallocated by my parents and husband to Sera, the "true" daughter of the family.

My heart turned to ash. I refused the doctor's final conservative treatment plan and injected a potent, lethal neuro-stimulant.
The price for blocking the agonizing pain of my failing heart was total cardiac collapse and death in three days.

In these three days, I gave up all arguments and resistance.
When Adrian impatiently threw down the divorce papers, I signed them without hesitation; when the daughter I raised with my own hands pushed me away in disgust, hiding in Sera’s arms and calling her "Mommy"; when I handed over the Foundation I had spent eight years building entirely to Sera—they didn't even notice my paper-white face.

They only looked at me with relief and said, "If you had been this sensible earlier, our family wouldn't have gotten so ugly."

I am very curious. When I am dead, what will they think then?

My wife said she had an important client meeting, so I attended our daughter’s awards ceremony alone.
Then a neighbor sent me a photo.
Rachel was sitting in another school’s auditorium beside her college boyfriend—smiling as his hand rested on her waist.
Before I could process what I was seeing, our fifteen-year-old daughter stepped up to the microphone.
“For fifteen years, my dad has been the one holding our home together,” Lily said.
Then she looked straight at me.
“My mother left us a long time ago.”
Three hundred people thought my wife was dead.
But Lily knew the truth.
And before the night was over, she would force me to face the betrayal I had spent years pretending not to see.

The day I discovered my husband, Vincent, was cheating on me with my younger sister, I was seven months pregnant. I drove away in a panic, only to end up in a car accident.
When I woke up in the family’s underground clinic, Vincent was pressing a gun to his own forehead, begging me to forgive him.
My father immediately ordered Elena to leave Sicily.
From that day on, Vincent took over every family affair, big or small, never allowing me to worry about a single thing.
I never heard from Elena again.
Not until our son was suddenly hospitalized with acute pneumonia.
I rushed back to the family’s private hospital in the middle of the night.
Through the half-open hospital room door, I saw my parents and Elena, who were supposed to be thousands of miles away in Siberia.
Elena was bent over the bedside, sobbing.
"Leo is my child. Why can't he even call me Mom? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
Vincent wrapped his arms around her, his face full of tenderness.
"I know you've suffered, sweetheart. But if Isabella finds out that her baby actually died in that car accident, there's no telling how many people she'll drag down with her. You know what she's capable of."
I froze outside the door.

This is not your Average romance novel. This dark romance novel contains Steamy contents capable of turning your world upside down.

One of your biggest fantasy should not be wanting your boss bending you over his table.


Never allow your boss lead you into darkness, revealing a whole new world you never knew existed.


Never allow your boss perceive your Arousal, and know what exactly you taste like.


Never allow his spanking fly faster than sparks.

Just like every worker, Rosa sees her boss as a workaholic who loves his job, invest his time into making it a profiting organization, but what she never knew was that Axel has a darker side of him he never showed to anyone, the dominating, possessive, and demonic side of him.

Her biggest fantasies were to get her boss bending her over on his table, doing those terrible things to her, exploring every inch, every curves of her body, most especially her sensitive parts.

Rosa's fantasies was becoming a reality the moment a message beep her phone.

Just because I got a B+ in physics, my father slapped me across the face and kicked me while I was down.

"If you worked even half as hard at school as we do at our jobs, you'd have straight A's!"

"Your mom and I kill ourselves every single day, and this is how you repay us?"

To make sure I couldn't argue anymore, they spent a fortune getting their hands on some kind of devil's contract.

Dad sneered: "Once this thing is signed, every hour we work, you have to study. Now that's what I call fair."

Mom nodded along: "No more complaining that we don't understand what you go through."

Looking at their smug, satisfied faces, I didn't argue. I just bit my finger and signed.

Because I knew better than anyone what their "killing ourselves" actually amounted to.

By the time the contract came due, they were on their knees begging me to cancel it.

"I'm all yours, take me," she whispered, running her finger all over the bare part of the chest, and sealing her fate with that one word.

"Once you become mine, you are mine alone!" He whispered the warning.


On that forbidden night of her eighteenth birthday, Eleanora's bond linked her to the one man she wished ill upon, the same man that had taken her innocence and disappeared without a word, the ruthless Alpha Alaric; worse still, he was the older brother to the man she secretly desired.

Torn between two brothers, one who owns her soul yet forbids her touch and the other whose forbidden touch she yearns for, Eleanora realises that there is more to her mate mark than just a claim.

She was not just a target but prey hunted by both brothers for far darker motives.

In a bid to change her fate, she journeys farther into a perilous territory; doom is now inevitable.

"Will you be my mate?"

Three days after my husband's funeral, his best friend whispered those words to me.

I told myself it was a transaction.

My freedom for his protection. My heart for my survival.


I was wrong.

Fenric Silvermane was not a man who made transactions.

He was a man who took what he wanted.

And he wanted me.

He secured my place among the nobles, learned every little thing I loved, and then—

Claimed me as his Luna before the entire kingdom, with the Alpha King as witness.

No warning.

No choice.

He wove me into his world so completely, so deliberately—

Until I had nowhere left to run.

Until I stopped reaching for the memory of the man I had once called my husband.


The day of the ceremony arrived.

The great hall doors swung open, and I saw Fenric waiting at the altar, his ice-blue eyes fixed on mine.

I took a breath.

I walked toward him.

Then the doors opened again.

And the man who was supposed to be dead and buried on a distant battlefield—

stepped inside.


Soren was alive.

And his best friend had known all along.

"Ahhhh," I moaned into the pillow, not wanting the neighbors to hear as they would immediately tell Mom about it.
"Ahhhh," this time it came out louder as I felt a shockwave of ectasy and satisification go through my body. This was the best feeling ever.
Suddenly, a gentle night breeze blew through my open window, My curtains fluttered open, and I looked up to find myself face to face with those breathtaking green eyes, they were like two emeralds glittering from his dark room, it was like they could see right through my soul, Aamon Blackwood!!!
My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met across the distance. I felt a wave of panic wash over me.
Had he seen everything? I tried to sit up, to cover myself, but it was too late.
My bully, step brother had just seen me pleasuring myself! Gosh!


Haven is a simple wolf human hybrid girl living her simple life, she likes to publish erotic novel online under a hidden name. She secretly has been crushing on the ice hockey captain Ryder since they were in highschool but she has never gathered the guys to tell him.
One day, her annoying stepbrother, Aamon discovers her secret and blackmails her into becoming his "servant". Will they keep their relationship strictly just slave and master? Or will they break all boundaries and fall into temptation?

"You took my wedding dress for my stepsister?"
My voice was ice as I stared at the man I had loved for six years—the man I had saved with my own blood, drop by drop, through years of his illness.
Atlas Brooks couldn't meet my eyes.
"She's dying, Mandy. Susie's last wish is to marry me."
Six years of devotion. Endless blood donations. And this is what I get in return?
The man I saved wants to trade me for the sister who destroyed my family.
Let him. I'm done fighting for someone who never fought for me.
But when I tried to walk away, Atlas caught my wrist.
"After she's gone," he whispered, "we can still be together. Just... let her have this."
The dress. The wedding. The man. Let her have everything.
I'm not waiting around as anyone's second choice. Not anymore.
I'm ready to say goodbye to everything.
I thought I was leaving love behind forever.
I didn't know that at my stolen wedding, I was about to find it.

My wife never knew what I really did. She only knew I was gone most of the year and money hit our account every month.

The day she cheated, she rummaged through my drawer, found an eagle-shaped brooch, and gifted it to her lover like a flashy accessory. “It’s worthless,” she said. “Perfect with a suit.” I warned her again and again to bring it back. She called me annoying, powered off her phone, and blocked me everywhere.

She didn’t know I’m a cleaner—the kind who handles quiet jobs—and that brooch isn’t jewelry. It’s an organization badge, a mark that turns you into a target the moment it appears in public.

That night, the killers came. The ballroom was sealed. She trembled under a table while her lover shoved her out to take the bullets.

When a cold gun barrel pressed to her temple and someone asked, “Who does the brooch belong to?”

Extreme cold descended suddenly, with temperatures approaching minus eighty degrees Celsius.

My girlfriend tricked me into leaving the temperature-controlled fortress I had built with all my savings. She took her whole family and her lover and took over the place, leaving me, a cripple, to be left to die in a blizzard.

They sat around my fireplace eating top-grade Wagyu beef, declaring they would watch me freeze into an ice sculpture.

But what they didn't know was that, locked out, I turned around and dialed the number of the most brutal outlaw in the apocalypse.

I don't want the billion-dollar supplies and the houses; all I want is for their whole family to be trapped in this inescapable, icy hell, unable to live or die.

I used to be the happiest food-truck girl on the streets of Brooklyn. Spencer Grant said he loved the warmth and down-to-earth spark I carried with me.
But over the six years of our marriage, he wrapped me layer by layer in Michelin-starred rules and fussy French culinary etiquette, turning me into a flawless, cold, untouchable chef.
Six years later, he asked me for a divorce because of a girl who ran a roadside taco stand.
He said my food was perfect but suffocating, while that girl made him feel alive again.
The way his eyes lit up when he talked about her was exactly how he'd looked at me when we'd first met six years ago.
In that moment, I knew our marriage was over.

In the wasteland, I earned enough military merit to be awarded two territories by the Alliance: an industrial city and an iron mine in the frozen tundra. In my previous life, my wife's younger brother threw a fit until he got the industrial city, while my wife forced me to take the frozen tundra iron mine instead. While their whole family lived easy in the industrial city, squeezing the workers dry, I was down in the frozen tunnels, struggling to dig ore day after day. Then the acid rain apocalypse came. The industrial city was corroded and brought crashing down by the acid rain, and my wife's family ended up covered in burns and open wounds. Meanwhile, I was doing just fine inside the frozen mine shafts. Out of kindness, I sent people to bring them to my side. I never expected my wife's entire family to turn on me and kill me together. Before I died, I detonated every last stick of dynamite in the mine and dragged them all to hell with me.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Alliance office where the territories were being assigned. And this time, the first thing I heard was my wife saying, "Shut up! Give the industrial city to your brother-in-law!"

She begged her mother for $50,000 to save her daughter's life.
Her mother had it—but chose to spend $300,000 on her younger sister's wedding instead.
That was the day Evelyn walked out. No more pleading. No more coming back.
Her husband sold his father's last heirloom. Their neighbors emptied their wallets. They saved her daughter and left for a new life.
A year later, her mother's money was gone. The fraud was exposed. The mansion was seized. The calls started coming—calls begging for help, for money, for forgiveness.
Evelyn listened, then hung up.
She is not going back. Not for guilt, not for blood. The family that let her daughter die does not get to ask her for anything.

I thought my friend had returned my BMW with an empty tank.
That was annoying.
Then the car started driving like it had a safe tied to the back.
My mechanic checked everything: tires, brakes, suspension, computer codes. Nothing made sense until he opened the trunk, lifted the floor panel, and found a canvas-wrapped mass jammed into the spare-tire well.
He looked once and nearly dropped his flashlight.
“Evan,” he said, “step back and call 911.”
I had lent my car for a blind date.
Somehow, I got it back with a police investigation in the trunk.

"I look better in the wedding dress. Your ugly fiancée can't compare to me, right?" "Of course, you do. You look way better."
Standing right outside the bridal fitting room, I watched my fiancé, Alexander Blackwell, hold his mistress in his arms.
The very wedding dress the woman wore was the custom-made designer gown meant for my own wedding next month.
For seven long years, I gave up my youth and poured everything into Alexander, turning him from a nobody into a tech billionaire.
He always thought I was just a helpless orphan who had nowhere else to go, blindly confident that I would never dare to leave him.
He had no idea that I was actually one of the heirs to the top-tier Sterling family in London.
When he finally realized what he had lost and desperately tried to beg for my return, I didn't look back.
Because I ran into Theodore Morrow—the city's most powerful, ruthless billionaire CEO, and the childhood fiancé whose heart I had broken when I called off our engagement years ago.

She wasn’t his weakness. She was his ruin, and he would bring the world to its knees before he let her go.


Kisarel thought she had it all figured out, until the night she caught her fiancé in bed with her cousin.
The same cousin who was engaged to her boss, the ruthless and untouchable billionaire, Mr. Oceans Stark.
Heartbroken, humiliated, and trapped on a business trip with the man her cousin was set to marry, Kisarel did the unthinkable – she begged her boss to make her forget her boyfriend's betrayal.
Oceans swore he didn’t touch his employees.
He swore his heart only belonged to a certain strange woman he'd been looking for, who saved his life so many years ago.
But the moment Kisarel kissed him, every resolution he made shattered.
And after their one sinful night together, Mr. Stark couldn't let Kisarel go. He began to do everything within his power to get her even more entangled in his web of obsession.
There were a thousand reasons she should have stayed away from him. She ignored every single one.
He knew every part of her belonged to someone else. But every part of him didn’t care.
What neither of them knows is that Kisarel was the woman he’s been searching for all along.
Now, Oceans is set to call off his wedding with Kisarel's cousin, and he expects Kisarel to also call off her wedding with her cheating fiancé.
Kisarel is now tangled in an obsession so hot that it might consume her whole. And Oceans is ready to drown his entire empire just to keep the woman he truly loves.

After the apocalypse, I built Dawnlight Base.

On an outside run, I died in an ambush—blast, fire, bullets. I watched my blood sink into the sand and thought it was over.

Then I opened my eyes five years later, living in a stranger’s body.

On a transport truck, I was locked in an iron cage with guns trained on us. The others told me who I was now: a bottom-tier gate guard, “cargo” being sold by Dawnlight to a mining camp.

They said after my death, my girlfriend took the command room, promoted her own people, broke up my old crew and stripped their weapons. Mismanagement followed. Mining rights were pawned off. Then they started selling the living.

I escaped and slipped back under the wall.

The quarantine corridor at the North Gate had collapsed and no one repaired it. A long line waited at the ration point, bowls filled with water-thin gruel.

And my girlfriend was signing papers—inviting an outside warlord into the city to “share governance.”

A week later, his convoy rolled through the gate. From the command building’s second-floor window, I flipped the signal switch.

The gate dropped behind them.

When gunfire erupted from every direction, they finally understood—

I was back.

The day before Thanksgiving, my husband, David, dragged his suitcase to the airport, claiming he was flying to Seattle to meet an important client.
My parents took my younger brother to Miami for a vacation and conveniently took my six-year-old daughter with them.
With the house empty, I picked up a last-minute catering shift that paid double the usual hourly rate. I needed the extra money to cover next month's rent and buy David a gift. So I temporarily filled in as a dinner server at a mansion in Beverly Hills.
After changing into a black-and-white uniform, I entered the employer's home through the service entrance.
The person in charge was the lady of the house—a young, beautiful blonde.
She had barely led me through the hallway toward the main room when I saw several workers hanging a massive engagement portrait on the central wall.
The man in the photograph, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, was my husband of six years.
David.
I froze where I stood, my mind going completely blank.
"Move it a little to the left. Yes, that's it. Straighten it!" the blonde girl called out to the workers.
Then she turned toward me.
"What? Can't take your eyes off it? That's my fiancé."
She looked me up and down, her voice dripping with condescending, fake sympathy.
"Working on a major holiday? I guess you're not married yet."
I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "I am. But I'll be a widow very soon."

For the top university in the North American wolf packs, transfer students aren't exactly breaking news. But this one sets the entire forum on fire.

It starts with a photo. A girl standing next to a tall, imposing man. Both faces are deliberately blurred, but that build, that presence... every wolf in North America recognizes it. The Alpha King. The caption reads: "Dad why'd you send me this 😭 I'm not ready to go public yet."

Minutes later, the post vanishes. But screenshots flood the forum.

"Moon Goddess above! Is that really the Alpha King?"

"The girl in the photo... could she be the royal princess no one's ever seen?"

The comments explode. Compliments flood in. Even my aloof boyfriend joins in.

Something feels off. I type out a comment: "The Alpha King keeps a low profile. His daughter should do the same. Posting photos like this... doesn't seem right."

Less than a minute later, the replies come.

"Who do you think you are to question her?"

"Can't stand seeing someone else do well, huh?"

My boyfriend chimes in too: "Quit it. You're embarrassing yourself."

I pick up my phone and dial a number. "Dad, since when do you have another daughter?"

My husband told me our daughter was brain-dead. He put a pen in my hand and told me to sign the organ donation form. He said it was the merciful thing to do.
I signed.
Then I watched her heart get cut out and transplanted into another child — his mistress's son.
He'd been planning it for months. The fake diagnosis, the doctor who happened to be his college girlfriend, the night his mother lured me away from the hospital so they could drug my little girl.
When I found out the truth, he killed me for it.
But somehow, I woke up back at that desk. Same pen. Same form. Same lying face waiting for my signature.
This time, I'm not signing. This time, they pay.

He grabbed my hair and dragged me downstairs. His grip on my hands and feet ached terribly. I sobbed and wept, silent tears streaming down my face. I was powerless to break free, my left hand clutching my broken right wrist.

He was a beast inhabiting this mansion, inflicting inhuman torture on my poor soul. He had created a living hell for me, this pitiful girl, within his castle.

On this cold winter night, he threw my wounded body into the icy pool, arrogantly enjoying it all, drinking and smoking expensive cigars. A satisfied, cold smile played on his lips as he reveled in my pain. His face was filled with the darkness of sin.

“How...more...am I…still…standing?” I stammered, my lips trembling.

Zain paused, thinking. Then, turning away from her, he replied:

“Until you die!”

With that, he left. As he wished. At that moment, my wish came true; I died.

But not in a frozen pool; I was struck in the head by a bullet from afar, blood splattering everywhere—that was far more gruesome.

My consciousness began to fade, but suddenly, I opened my eyes again and found myself mopping the floor in an ordinary restaurant.

I was startled: What happened? I was reborn? This is unbelievable!

"Who are you?" I came awake with a jerk, disoriented and aching all over.
A heavy male body lay beside me---we were both naked except for the sheet covering our bodies.

Embarrassment stained my skin bright red. I searched my memories of the night before, trying to figure out how I had gotten here while attempting to wrap the sheet around my body. I stopped when I realized I'd leave my bed partner totally nude.

My skin felt too hot and too tight as I tried to work out how to get myself out of the situation.
I wasn't used to being around naked men even if I was a werewolf. We cared about propriety no matter what humans thought!

I remembered myself saying over and over, "I'm your mate!"

I eased myself off the bed to look for clothes. I tried to be as quiet as I could so I didn't wake up the stranger.

I didn't take the sheet to spare his decency, instead sacrificing my own modesty: I'd rather be caught naked than have to face a naked man I'd evidently seduced with all the subtlety of a bitch in heat!

His scent was all over me, all over everything really. Rich and masculine, every time I breathed I felt as if I was being surrounded by the forest with hints of wood and a warm spice I couldn't name. I wanted to crawl back into bed beside him and never leave.

My wolf, Rayne, grumbled in my head, "We shouldn't leave! He is our mate!"

Hope Black is a Delta, a person who was born among werewolves, but does not have a wolf... Despite this, she is one of the best warriors, always being at the forefront of training.
With the chance to train in the great Lycan royal castle, Hope enlists with the hope of further improving her fighting skills, she just didn't expect to find her Destined on the first day.

Dylan Miller is an Alpha, future leader of the Blue Moon pack, he enlisted in royal training to escape a forced union, he is against the ancient rule that he needs to unite with someone of pure and ancient blood.
With this chance he hopes to find his Destined and thus be able to free himself from the forced union his father and his elders placed for him. The only thing he didn't expect was for the Moon Goddess to put him together with a Delta who doesn't want him.

"I, Madeline Clark, rejec…," I started speaking, but Alpha Dimitri stopped me by putting his hand over my mouth.
He pulled me closer to him and growled.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted. "I am not letting you do this, Maddie. I've waited for you for months and I am not going to lose you!"
His eyes held so much pain and his voice was laced with panic.
"You are mine, Maddie," he said as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss on my forehead. "You are mine, and I am not letting you go."

Madeline is a 17-year-old girl who still hasn't shifted into her wolf. Her father abandoned her mother when she was very young. She's been bullied and laughed at all the time. After she lost her mom, the person who loved her the most, Madeline is completely distraught and broken. Her father comes back to take her back to his pack. Madeline is against it, but her financial situation forces her to go with him.

Dimitri is a Lycan wolf, the Alpha of his very successful pack. He is 22 years old, and he still hasn't found his mate. When Madeline comes to his pack, he is very surprised to find out that she is his mate. He is also very frustrated because she is his stepsister who still hasn't shifted. She can't recognize him as her mate.

Madeline struggles in the new pack. She doesn't have the best relationship with her stepmother. She can't wait to turn 18 and leave.

What will happen when Madeline finds out who her mate is? What will Dimitri do after she rejects him? Will he be able to convince her to stay?

"Take me, please." This time into his ear. He sat up some and grabbed my hips pulling me on to him harder. The deeper he went the more I lost control. I could tell he was holding back. Maybe he was afraid to hurt me. The bruises, because of what he knows about my past, He thinks he has to treat me like I'm fragile. I looked straight into his eyes. "I can take it, please, I want you to make me yours." I was begging him now. I saw his face change as he sat up and pushed my legs up higher. Suddenly he was slamming into me…


When Sandra married Ryan she thought she had married her hero. A young bright police detective on his way up. It wasn't long before she realized she was wrong. A narcissistic abusive man with the support of the city and the police department. She was trapped. Caged. Until the night of her monthly trip to the movies with the friends she was allowed. The other police detective’s wives. She saw his eyes as he leaned against the wall. A tinge of recognition as she walked past him. Then everything went dark.

Ana was like every young she-wolf out there. She couldn’t wait to meet her mate. She didn’t expect the way things would go the day she finally met him or the way he would treat her once they met. Ana’s mate wants nothing to do with her but won’t let her go. Ana feels like a prisoner to her mate. Her mind is torn on what to do. She wishes her mate would love her, but he shows no hope of that happening. She wants to try and build something with him, but he makes things difficult for her. He treats her horribly, and Ana doesn’t know why. Ana wishes he would reject or let her go, but he won’t. She feels like he is determined to make her his prisoner forever.
Read and find out how Ana survives being a prisoner to her.