9137 Book(s) Related to the billionaire wins back his amnesiac wife

"I want to know," Marissa said, one hand resting on her stomach, her smile dripping with triumph, "if you'll be here to watch me give Bryce the child you never could."
Rachel's world shattered.
For three years, she had been the perfect Mrs. Voss, gentle, obedient, and endlessly devoted. She believed love could soften Bryce's cold heart... until he walked in with his pregnant mistress and erased her without a second thought.
Declared infertile. Branded a burden. Cast aside like she meant nothing.
When Bryce demanded a divorce, Rachel asked for just fourteen days. Fourteen days to hold onto the life she had built, to pretend her marriage hadn't already died.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't care.
But the moment she hit rock bottom, another man stepped in.
"A contract marriage," he said, his gaze dark with intent. "One year. You become my wife... and I'll make him beg for the woman he threw away."
Dangerous. Ruthless. A man who doesn't love, only claims.
"Unlike Bryce," he murmured, stepping closer, "I don't discard what belongs to me."
This time, Rachel won't beg to be chosen.
She'll rise. She'll take everything they stripped from her. And she'll become a woman Bryce Voss can never touch again.
So when he finally realizes the truth... when he's the one begging at her feet...
Will she walk away or make him suffer the way he made her break?

<>



Vanessa thought rock bottom was signing divorce papers with Derek Holland, a man with the emotional depth of a teaspoon. Turns out, rock bottom had a basement, and Ryker Holland was waiting for her down there with a smirk and a plan.

Ryker, Derek's older half-brother (aka the family's dirty little secret), shows up offering Vanessa a deal: help her make her ex-husband, Derek Holland, jealous enough to come crawling back. In exchange, he secures his position as CEO.

But Ryker isn't doing this out of kindness. He is petty and cruel. He would do anything to trample all over Derek, and now he has the perfect weapon. Vanessa, freshly dumped and just desperate enough to play along. And if she happens to enjoy making her ex suffer too? Well, that's just a bonus.

As Vanessa sinks deeper into Ryker's twisted world of fake romance, secrecy and family dysfunction, things start getting real. Because fake love? It's a lot easier to control than real feelings. And Ryker has no idea what to do when the game stops being a game.

Is Vanessa walking into a trap or building one of her own? Either way, the Holland brothers are going down. One's going to break, and the other's going to enjoy every second of it.

_Disclaimer:

This story contains morally complex and flawed characters, who often operate with hidden motives and questionable ethics. Themes explored include emotional manipulation, gaslighting, power imbalance, dual identities, and blurred lines between love, control, and obsession. Certain scenes may be intense or unsettling. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Accepting her fate as a slave, Danica Grimsley, the low born Omega never thought that she had to share her love not with her mate Konrad Winston only but with his enemy as well, Cassius Winston, the king of Lycans. When secrets threatened to spoil her life, Danica needed to choose between revenge and fate. Worst of all, both Alphas wanted not just her body but her soul.

I was the most envied mafia wife in Chicago, until his Tibetan Mastiff tore apart what remained of our child.
Everyone called it an accident. I knew it wasn’t.
While I was bleeding out on the operating table, my husband was in the VIP ward, personally attending to his “traumatized” adopted sister. The whole family coddled her delicate state. Only I saw the smirk she couldn’t hide behind every calculated “panic attack.”
Then the Feds gave me a choice: keep playing the perfect, miserable wife, or vanish into a classified program so secret, I’d be dead to everyone I ever knew.
I signed. I uploaded the audio proof of their affair. I watched my old life disappear.
You swore you’d protect the family above all else, darling?
How fitting. My new mission is to protect this country from all threats.
Starting with you.

Halfway through my wedding, five months pregnant in a custom gown, waiting to say "I do."
A woman stood up and stopped everything.
"I'm so moved seeing you both live in the house I designed." She raised her champagne, smiling like she owned the place. "The architecture, the interiors, the gardens—all mine."
My fiancé Dorian didn't even explain. Just helped her out, left me standing there in front of a hundred guests.
That's when it hit me: I'd been living in his ex-girlfriend's custom-built dream house for three years.
I found the blueprints later. Every page in her handwriting: "S loves morning light," "island height for S," "bathtub sized for two."
Date stamp: March 2019—a year before we met.
I confronted him. He shoved me, impatient.
I fell down the stairs. Lost the baby.
He was in the hospital hallway on his phone: "Don't worry, I'm coming over. We can't let rumors destroy Seraphina's career."
I lay there touching my empty stomach, and something clicked.
I was going to take that house back. Then tear it down myself.
Brick by brick. Smash it all.

When I accepted the Global War Photography Award at the ceremony, a reality TV crew crashed through the velvet ropes, their cameras flashing like strobes at a crime scene.
"Ms. Evelyn Vance!"
The host shoved a microphone in my face. "After twenty years of silence, are you still holding a grudge against your father? Just because he saved the neighbor's orphaned child first and left you in that burning building?"
I looked up, past the blinding lights, toward the figure at the edge of the crowd. Robert Bennett.
He pushed through and stepped forward, his calloused hands trembling as they closed around my cold fingers.
"Nora, Kayla's parents didn't make it out. Under those circumstances, I had to get that newly orphaned child to safety first."
His eyes pleaded with me. "You're my daughter. You understand, don't you?"
I stared at those hands imprisoning mine, then pulled my lips into a cold smile and wrenched free.
"You've got the wrong person," my voice was ice. "There's no Nora here. My name is Evelyn Vance."

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

Ten minutes. That was all the time I had to save my fouryearold son.
Leo hung over sharkinfested open sea, waiting for his father, Mafia Don Dante Moretti.
But Dante never came. He stayed behind to comfort Bianca, the woman he believed had saved his life. He had handed her complete control over the family’s armed forces, cutting off every possible way for me to mount a rescue.
A ghost from the past returned and exposed every buried truth.
Dante crumbled under the weight of his guilt, consumed by regret. He begged for my forgiveness. But by then, my son was all that mattered to me.

The wolf pack sneers at Selena, writing her off as her alpha’s discarded human mate. Her alpha publicly claims she abandoned their family, all while their birth daughter wastes away inside a hound cage. They believe they have her trapped, convinced her humanity is her greatest weakness. No one knows ancient royal blood slumbers beneath her skin. She will pay any price to save her child.

Three months ago, I was kidnapped. When Alexander rescued me, I woke up in a hospital bed with my clothes disheveled and bruises covering my body. What happened during those hours? I don't remember any of it.

A week ago, I found out I was pregnant. He held me as I shook and told me that it wasn't my fault. That he failed to protect me. Even if the baby wasn't his, he'd raise it. He'd still give me the perfect wedding.

But the guilt ate me alive until depression took hold.

Every night, sleep stays out of reach. Nightmares find me the moment I close my eyes. I've tried to end it. Three times now. Each time, someone found me just in time.

After the third failed attempt, I make tea and head toward his study to apologize. Voices drift through the door before I reach it.

"Are you out of your mind? Evelyn's your fiancée!" His friend sounds disbelieving. "You actually hired someone to kidnap her? Made her think she was assaulted? Just so Lily could take her place? Do you know how messed up that is? What that does to someone?"

Alexander's voice comes out calm. "Lily got sick because of me. Her dying wish is to marry me once before she goes. If I didn't push Evelyn out of the picture, her father would never let Lily take her place."

All those nights. All those nightmares. All those times I scrubbed my hands raw until they bled. It was all a lie. A setup.

For another woman.

I pull out my phone and call my father.

"Dad. I'll agree to the arrangement."

On my anniversary flight to New York, fate sat my cheating husband's mistress right beside me.

Alice spent the entire trip gushing about "her Daniel" while wearing the sapphire ring he'd called "too vulgar" for his wife—me.

"She's so pathetic," Alice laughed, describing how Daniel planned to dump his "clingy" spouse. "Good riddance!"

If only she knew his "pathetic" wife was the billionaire secretly bankrolling his success.

At JFK, Daniel threw money at my feet and told me to disappear.

I smiled, dialed my investment firm, and watched his face crumble.

"Hello, darling. Your sugar mama just quit."

Our engagement has gone unfulfilled for ten years.

My parents saved his family in that yacht accident. With their dying breath, they asked his family to look after me. In return, we go to city hall every year, trying to fulfill this obligation.

Ten attempts. Ten failures.

Elevator malfunctions, food poisoning, home invasions, car crashes... Every single time, I get hurt at the worst possible moment while he walks away without a scratch.

This makes ten. A truck slams into the passenger side, my head smashes against the window, and he's already running across the street, pulling that woman into his arms.

On my way to find him after they stitch me up, I hear his assistant's voice in the hospital corridor:

"Mr. Ashford, the truck driver's been taken care of. Money'll hit his account like we agreed... but is this really fair to Miss Bennett? It's been ten years, every single year—"

William's voice comes out low and tired. "I don't have a choice. Her parents saved me, but I'm in love with Emma."

I look down at the diagnosis. ALS. Late stage.

Turns out I've been trying to marry a lie this whole time.

The night before our engagement party, my fiancé gifted me a million-dollar yacht—with another woman's name carved on the hull.

Not mine. "Serena"—his first love, the one who got away.

Five years of patience. Five years of sacrifice. And this is what I get?

"Stop overreacting," Austin said without a hint of shame. "She's severely depressed. I'm just trying to comfort her."

Comfort her? What about me?

When Serena tried on what should've been my wedding dress, when Austin demanded I "be the bigger person" yet again—I finally snapped.

I threw the engagement ring. It cracked against his face.

Austin's hand shot up in fury.

The door exploded open.

Julian Cross—New York's most dangerous billionaire—stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm.

"You dare lay a hand on my woman?"

I grew up alongside my next-door neighbor, ice hockey prodigy Lachlan, silently paving the way for his future. In my past life, he planned to quit his crucial scout game for his girlfriend Tamsin.
Fearing he would ruin his career, I tipped off his parents to stop him. After graduation, I joined his sports agency and spent three years cleaning up his messes, clinging to the hope that my devotion would eventually win him over.
Yet after Tamsin’s death, he blamed me entirely, shattered my fingers, and drowned me in a frozen lake. Reborn back in high school, I finally woke up. I will no longer stop him from chasing his doomed fate.

When I walked out of Moon Shade’s prison, I still didn’t even know what crime I was supposed to have committed.
A black SUV idled outside the iron gate. Charles stepped out. He had once been my fiancé; now he looked like he was here to pick up trouble. “Get in.”
The second I sat on the seat; his phone lit up. On the screen, a single name popped up—Sophia.
The girl who had taken everything that used to be mine.
I stayed silent, watching the snow outside the window. Three years ago, every bit of tenderness in this world embraced me; two years later, when I finally woke up, they were suddenly all orbiting around Sophia, calling her “so pitiful,” calling me “too extreme,” saying prison would help me calm down.
I honestly believed I was still the one they cared about most—until the night I typed my own birthday into the keypad and the front door stayed locked. When I entered Sophia’s birthday instead, the door clicked open instantly.

"Tomorrow, dress formal. We're going back for the family sit-down."
"Are you going to make our relationship public?"
"Public what? You—as my Consigliere, or... as my mistress."
At the pre-engagement dinner, he picked simple Italian dishes, Black Forest cake, and pink-and-white roses for Amelie. Side by side, they smiled as they reminisced about their "fated encounters," his ears even turning red.
"We kept ‘running into’ each other in high school," she said.
I lowered my eyes with a small, bitter smile—those had all been his carefully designed coincidences.
When the accident happened, he pulled her into his arms first. "Don't be scared. Look at me." I shivered among shattered glass and the smell of blood. He never once looked at me.
Later, with the wedding was half prepared, I returned my signet ring, keys, and comm devices according to family rules, took my parents and emigrated. The sea wind shredded those passed New York nights.

They built a hundred-year name on a scholarship they stole from a dead girl.

This morning that name landed on my desk. Brooke Hale, applicant. One signature away from the federal clerkship her family has won, somehow, in every generation since 1962.

I'm the one who signs.

I wrote three words instead. Recommend denial. Then I sat with my hands flat on the file so they'd stop shaking.

The Hales think it's a cold case. A girl named Iris, ruled ineligible sixty years ago, gone quiet, gone poor, gone.

They don't know Iris was my great-grandmother.

They don't know I kept the letter.

Three years ago, the night before my wedding, I was kidnapped and nearly killed.

When I woke up, Julian was crying over me. "The kidnappers hurt you so badly, Elsie. The doctors—they had to remove your uterus to save you. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

My world shattered.

I cried for a week straight. Cried until I had no voice left, until my eyes couldn't open from the swelling. I'd lost everything—my chance at motherhood, my chance at being whole.

But Julian squeezed my hand. "I love you, Elsie. You're all I need."

He married me anyway. Against his family's wishes, he married this broken woman.

For three years, he was perfect. Gentle. Loving. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

Until today.

Today, I learned the truth—

There was no kidnapping. No random attack.

It was all planned. Orchestrated by Julian himself.

For one reason only—to give my uterus to Chloe, my sister who was born unable to have children.

1

On the morning of the entrance exams, my parents locked me inside the family freezer to keep me from outshining Ethan.
They thought they were saving him from a prophecy.
By the time they realized the prophecy was a lie, I had already frozen to death with my hand still raised against the door.

Emery’s undying love for her late mother drove her to do things only a desperate person could understand. To save her mother’s company, she agreed to marry a man twice her age. There’s no way she could escape the miserable truth, but on the day of the wedding, she married the wrong groom who turned out to be the wealthiest man in the country.
It’s like the Heavens gave her another chance and she won’t let the chance slip away. However, can she withstand the tension whenever her fake husband is near her? What if she falls for him? Will he catch her? Or she’d fall into a more complicated situation?


Every man's dream was to watch their bride walk down the aisle towards them, however, the beautiful dream turned into a nightmare when Terrence found a different woman under the veil. His bride ran away and he was forced to marry a stranger. To make everything more complicated, he just got appointed as the company President and he needs to maintain a good reputation.
Keeping his fake bride by his side is the only choice left to him. However, how can he deal with his self-control when the woman he mistakenly married is a total goddess of temptation?

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.

I am a mermaid.

To walk toward him, I swallowed a dark potion, shedding my tail for a pair of legs.
Every step felt like treading on sharp blades, yet I endured it all willingly.
He took me in, promising to protect me for the rest of my life.

Then, his ex-lover returned.

She orchestrated one accident after another to frame me—a slashed costume, a staged fall down the stairs... And every single time, convenient "eyewitnesses" immediately pointed their fingers at me.

He believed them all.

Until a falling stage light crushed her legs.
He pinned me to the operating table, personally severed my legs, and transplanted them onto that woman.

What he didn't know was that anyone who walked on these legs would have to suffer the excruciating agony of stepping on knives.
He simply told me coldly: "You ruined her ability to dance, so you will pay with your legs."

That night, alone and broken, I wheeled myself to the beach.
Using only my bare hands, I crawled across the coarse sand, into the crashing waves, and returned to my true home.

——Leaving him to stare at the security monitors, watching helplessly as I sank into the dark sea, never to surface again.

Every time my adopted sister, Ivy, and I had a disagreement, my fiancé and my brother would always call for a "democratic vote."
When choosing our marital home, I wanted the historic townhouse in Beacon Hill, close to my parents. Ivy wanted the luxury penthouse in the Seaport District because it was more vibrant.
Deadlocked, we put it to a vote.
William, my fiancé, raised his hand first. "You're too rigid, Charlotte. You don't understand how to enjoy life. I agree with Ivy."
My brother patted my head. "Don't be selfish. Seaport is closer to Ivy's office. She can easily come stay with you when she's tired."
Three to one. Once again, I was forced to compromise.
 
And when Ivy wanted the massive south-facing master suite in my new house to build her walk-in closet?
"Let's vote to keep things fair," my fiancé, William, declared.
I was a rising architect at Boston's most prestigious firm, yet I didn't even have the right to design my own marital home.
Unsurprisingly, Ivy won unanimously.
Leaving me, the bride, with a master bedroom barely half the size of my adopted sister's closet.
 
Out of more than a hundred family votes over the last ten years:
My fiancé's votes for me: Zero.
My own brother's votes for me: Zero.
Since this was a rigged game of scales that would never tip in my favor... I choose to quit.
Let them play their little voting game without me.

"Sign the Brooklyn house over to Isla. I'll cover your tuition next semester."

Gabriel didn't look up. Just sat there in his leather chair like he was doing me a favor.

My mother grabbed my sleeve. "She has depression, Rachel. She just needs a studio. Why are you making this so hard?"

I looked at her, then at him. That house was the only thing my father left me when he died. The only thing. And my stepbrother was sitting in his leather chair, offering me a trade like it was nothing.

"That house is the only thing my father left me," I said. "You know that."

Gabriel finally looked up. "I know. Sign anyway."

My mother tightened her grip on my sleeve. I shook her off.

"Give me the pen."

I signed. Grabbed my suitcase — packed for three days — and walked out.

I had nowhere to go. I didn't care.

One modern smartphone. Zero social skills. And a world of women who want his "magic."
Arthur lived seventy years as a "good man"a polite way of saying he died a virgin with a literal allergy to women. Touched by his purity, the Goddess Venus offers him a second chance in another realm of Venhus. But thanks to a divine blunder, Arthur wakes up as a 20 year old scrawny, powerless orphan in a world where women rule with magic and steel.
His only lifeline? A Spectral Smartphone that can order anything from Earth...from Glocks and Kevlar to Flamin' Hot Cheetos. The catch: the currency is Venus Points (VP), earned only through physical and romantic intimacy.
For a man who breaks out in hives during a handshake, Arthur is in a comedic hell. To survive greedy queens and demon mages, he must overcome his terror and "farm" points from the very women he’s spent a lifetime avoiding.
Building an empire is easy. Surviving the first kiss is the real boss fight.

She was spoiled and the only daughter of Italy’s most feared Mafia empire. But I was never supposed to fall for the one man paid to protect me.
Luca Bianchi. My father's most trusted bodyguard. A man with secrets darker than his tailored suits and eyes that have haunted me since I was sixteen. When threats close in and betrayal strikes from inside our mansion, my parents send me away with the one man I swore I hated.
But this isn’t just about stolen glances and red lace. Because someone is hunting me.
And Luca might be the only one who can save me.
He’s the bodyguard. I’m the heiress.
And in this deadly game of bullets and betrayal…
I might just be the one who gets claimed.

My wife is the city's renowned "Community Angel." She donates every single cent of her high salary to the poor, all to buy herself a saintly reputation.
Meanwhile, as her husband, I spend my days rolling beneath cars in a factory, covered in grease, juggling four credit cards just to keep our large family afloat.
My parents-in-law survive on the expensive, imported life-saving meds I pay for, yet they constantly mock me for being a powerless nobody;
My own children attend private schools on my dime, only to look at me with disgust and call me an embarrassment;
And my wife? Dressed in her high-end couture, she looks down at me and condescendingly urges, "For the sake of the poor children, why don't you get another part-time job and just endure it a little longer?"
Looking at this den of parasites sucking the life out of me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me.
I didn't argue. I silently put away my overdue bills, packed my bags, and completely vanished from this twisted household.
Later, at the highly anticipated Annual Charity Gala, in front of the entire city, I presented her with an ultimate "gift"—

“A dynamic story line that grips from the first chapter and doesn't let go.” --Midwest Book Review, Diane Donovan (regarding Once Gone) From #1 bestselling mystery author Blake Pierce comes a new masterpiece of psychological suspense.Homicide Detective Avery Black has been through hell. Once a top criminal defense attorney, she fell from grace when she managed to get a brilliant Harvard professor off—only to watch him kill again. She lost her husband and her daughter, and her life fell apart around her.Trying to redeem herself, Avery has turned to the other side of the law. Working her way up the ranks, she has reached Homicide Detective, to the scorn of her fellow officers, who still remember what she did, and who will always hate her.Yet even they cannot deny Avery’s brilliant mind, and when a disturbing serial killer strikes fear into the heart of Boston, killing girls from elite colleges, it is Avery that they turn to. It is Avery’s chance to prove herself, to finally find the redemption she craves. And yet, as she is soon to find out, Avery has come up against a killer as brilliant and daring as she.In this game of psychological cat and mouse, women are dying with mysterious clues, and the stakes could not be higher. A frantic race against time leads Avery through a series of shocking and unexpected twists—culminating in climax that even Avery could not imagine. A dark psychological thriller with heart-pounding suspense, CAUSE TO KILL marks the debut of a riveting new series—and a beloved new character—that will leave you turning pages late into the night. Book #2 in the Avery Black series will be available soon.“A masterpiece of thriller and mystery. Pierce did a magnificent job developing characters with a psychological side, so well described that we feel inside their minds, follow their fears and cheer for their success. The plot is very intelligent and will keep you entertained throughout the book. Full of twists, this book will keep you awake until the turn of the last page.” --Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Once Gone)

“A dynamic story line that grips from the first chapter and doesn't let go.” --Midwest Book Review, Diane Donovan (regarding Once Gone) From #1 bestselling mystery author Blake Pierce comes a new masterpiece of psychological suspense: CAUSE TO HIDE (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 3).Bodies are being found in the outskirts of Boston, their corpses burned beyond recognition, as the police realize a new serial killer is roaming the streets. As the media converges and the pressure is upped, the Boston Police Department must turn to its most brilliant—and controversial—homicide detective: Avery Black.Avery, still trying to pick up the pieces of her own life—her budding relationship with Ramirez, her reconciliation with Rose—suddenly finds herself thrown into the most challenging case of her career. With scant evidence to follow, she must enter the mind of a psychotic killer, try to understand his obsession with fire, and what clues that offers into his personality. Her trail leads her deep into Boston’s worst neighborhoods, to confrontations with its worst psychopaths—and finally, to a twist she could never possibly imagine.In a game of psychological cat and mouse, a frantic race against time, Avery is led too deep into the maze of a killer’s mind, and to places darker than she’d ever wish to see.A psychological thriller with heart-pounding suspense, CAUSE TO HIDE is book #3 of a riveting new series—with a beloved new character—that will leave you turning pages late into the night. Book #4 in the Avery Black series will be available soon. “A masterpiece of thriller and mystery. Pierce did a magnificent job developing characters with a psychological side, so well described that we feel inside their minds, follow their fears and cheer for their success. The plot is very intelligent and will keep you entertained throughout the book. Full of twists, this book will keep you awake until the turn of the last page.” --Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Once Gone)

Just imagine a woman with three hot boyfriends who want to fk each other as much as they want to fuk her. Yup, that's literally the book.... well, also with an obsessed stalker who wants her men gone so he would keep her for himself.
"If you want them, Myla—if you need what I can't give you, I won't stop you." Hayden's voice dropped, raw and quiet.
"You're my wife," he said. "But you're also a woman. And I'd rather see you touched by hands that I know love you, than watch you slowly wither waiting for something I may never give again."
When Myla's husband can't give her what he used to after he got paralyzed in an accident, he offers her something else instead: his two best friends, who also happen to be his old lovers. Now she's tangled in a world of blindfolds, whispered orders, and three men who can't stop touching her… or each other. But passion this dangerous comes with a cost. Especially when an obsessed stalker is willing to destroy everything to claim her for himself.
Expect: Steamy straight, gay, bi and every kind of sx, Messy threesomes and unapologetic foursomes, Voyeurism (because sometimes it's hotter to just watch), and bm.

"I, Alpha Devon..." he began, but I cut him off. The words I feared to hear was what he was about to say.
“You are only angry with your Bella right now, don’t say anything, we can sort this out tomorrow,” I pleaded with him. But he let out a loud hiss.
"I, Alpha Devon, reject Bella as my mate!" His voice was full of finality, leaving no room for negotiation. “Did you really think I could ever love an omega like you? It would be an insult to my position.” 
“Your time is up darling, Get out of my room!” He ordered.


Bella's life as an omega was the most perfect one ever. She was secretly dating the Alpha of her pack Alpha Devon and that brought pure joy to her heart.
Her joy knew no bounds when she found out her long time prayer had been accepted by the moon goddess, she was finally mated to the love of her life and he seemed happy and excited about it. But all hell breaks loose when Devon suddenly changes his attitude towards her the next day and rejects her without an explanation and throws her out of the pack with no reason.
Bella is left a heart broken with a lot of questions going through her mind: what suddenly went wrong? Why did Devon suddenly change? Did he even love her?
He rejected her, she returned with his heir, how will he chase her back?

Camila and Caroline are identical twin daughters of Jack, the respected warrior commander of the Moonlight Pack. Camila, kind and dutiful, is the one betrothed to Alpha Michael, chosen to be his Luna.

Caroline, bold and reckless, is often jealous of her twin’s honor.

On the night of the marking ceremony, Michael, overwhelmed with lust and intoxicated, mistakenly sleeps with Caroline, marking her instead of Camila.

The entire pack believes Caroline is his true mate. Camila is humiliated before the pack — her engagement broken, her place usurped by her twin.

Feeling betrayed and discarded, Camila flees into the forbidden forest, where she collapses from exhaustion and despair.

My husband swore I was the only woman he would ever love.
Then my half-sister handed me her ultrasound. His baby. Growing inside her.
Three years of marriage. Three years of building everything together. Gone in one moment.
I should have thrown the proof in his face.
But my doctor gave me news that made his betrayal feel like nothing.
So I did something he will never expect.
I disappeared.
Let him search. Let him lose his mind.
He will never find me.

"Stay away from my sons, Ariana. They're dangerous when they want something."
The irony wasn't lost on me. "And you're not?"
His smile was cold. "Oh, I don't lose what I want, Ariana. And right now… I'm trying not to want the wrong thing. Because I always get what I want."
He left me there, trembling and confused.
I managed to avoid everyone for the rest of the day. Took a taxi home, snuck in through the back door, locked myself in my room. Mom knocked around seven. "Honey? Are you okay? You missed dinner."
"I'm fine. Just not hungry."
"Victor's worried about you. He said something happened at school."
Of course he did. "It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding."
She lingered outside my door. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
Could I? Could I tell her that her new husband and his sons all looked at me like I was something to possess?


When my mother walked away from my cheating father and married my professor, I thought our lives were finally settling. I was wrong.
Moving into the Sterling mansion at nineteen threw me into a world I wasn't prepared for: a dangerously charismatic billionaire… and his two equally irresistible sons. Ethan. Luca. Victor Sterling. Three men. One house. And all of them looking at me like I'm something they intend to claim.
At campus, they watch me. At home, they rival for me. Their jealousy is explosive, their obsession merciless, and their desire… completely forbidden.
I should run. I should fight. Instead, I'm caught between men who are meant to protect me, not want me. But the real danger isn't their obsession. It's the secret they're all hiding. Because in the Sterling mansion… I'm not just the new bride's daughter. I'm the prize in a silent war between father and sons. And they'll burn everything, before they let anyone else have me.
This book is for readers 18+

Eveyln White was used to living a double life - college student by day at the top of her class, mousy and introverted, and a bombshell stripper by night only known as Eve. Things all come to a head when her bouncer boyfriend, Charlie, angers a patron of the club, who turns out to be one of the most dangerous men in the world, Mafia Boss Antonio Bernoti.

He called me his lucky charm. I never knew I would become the price he was willing to pay for.

Wren Kelly was never supposed to belong in Cole Ashford’s world. She was the daughter of a building manager, while he was the heir of a wealthy family and a rising tennis star.

But since childhood, Cole believed she was the secret behind every victory. Until one desperate night, Wren had no choice but to make a deal with him—four years of her life in exchange for the money that could save her mother.

She thought she was selling her freedom.

She never expected that the boy who needed her luck would one day need her heart even more.

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

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

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

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

In that moment, my heart died completely.

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

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

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

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

On the 26th of my birthday, my true love gave me divorce papers and a broken heart.
One meant to wound. One meant to finish me.

Life has a way of giving gifts that are both unexpected and profound.
If the people you love the most can hurt you this deeply, then perhaps it is only fair to return the gesture, quietly and carefully.

This is a thick and cruel world.
But I am still here.
And some gifts are returned with interest — Bianca Winter.


“Please, Bianca,” Charles Warren begged, crying on his knees. “Give me a chance. Give us another chance.”
“Dear ex,” Bianca Winter replied coldly, “I would have to be blind to walk your way again and even blindness wouldn’t excuse that mistake. You already showed me the darkness, Mr Warren, and I will not step back into the shadows.”
With no trace of remorse, Bianca turned and walked away with her head held high.

I barely escaped the Valley of the Dread Dragon, my magic completely drained. A betrothal awaited me in Winterhold. But the moment I arrived, my fiancé Arthur refused to acknowledge who I was. He stood by and watched as his socalled true love Elena stole my wand, scarred my face, and swore to strip me bare and parade me through the streets. He thought he stood above me, blind to exactly whom he was defying — I held his entire family in my power. When my brother Damian arrived, he did not merely rescue me. He gave me the chance to pay back every wound and humiliation I had suffered, one by one.

On my birthday, I lost my pup from overwork, and at the same moment, a photo popped up on social media—my boyfriend kissing another woman under fireworks.

The caption read: "Found my lost mate."

I finally understood: I was nothing more than a replacement after Kathy left, a temporary harbor while he waited for his true love.

I quietly signed my resignation letter, burned eight years of memories, and turned to leave Stone Lake Pack.

Then, I met another Alpha.

Dangerous, captivating, untouchable—yet he dropped to one knee at our first meeting: "Marry me."

I nodded yes, but my ex lost his mind.

In my past life, I was shoved into oncoming traffic by my husband's widowed cousin, Isabella.
"Why do you get the perfect husband and the Romano fortune? Go to hell!"
I died, and my unborn child died with me. Up until my last breath, I thought she killed me out of purely manic, bitter jealousy.
When I opened my eyes, I was back at that exact crosswalk, rewound to the second she was about to push me.
Only this time, I stepped aside.
And I finally learned the truth. She wasn't just an envious widow—she was my husband's secret lover. And the one who paid the million-dollar bounty for my murder to steal my mafia empire was the "flawless" man sleeping in my bed.

In my first life, blinded by greed, I claimed to be that mysterious woman. Silas glanced at my left shoulder and said coldly, "No butterfly tattoo." His bodyguards dragged me to the backyard and shattered my ribs with a baseball bat.
In my second life, Cleo learned from my mistake. She got the butterfly tattoo at an underground parlor. But Silas lifted her skirt and sneered, "No birthmark on her inner thigh." We were thrown into the frozen lake behind the mountain.
"Find her. She's in the West Wing." Silas Brennan's cold command echoed through the Brennan Estate again. Cleo and I locked eyes, terror gripping us.
We were the only maids in the West Wing.

On the third day after my death, Massimo got the call.
His arm was around another woman. He didn't even flinch.
"Dead is dead," he said. "Burn her, then call me."
He came to the crematorium two hours late. He took my ashes, dropped them on the floor, and stepped on them like they were dirt.
"Tell Tess," he said, "if she's still alive, she can crawl back and beg. If she's really dead, I'll dig her up and flog the corpse myself."
I was right there, screaming without a voice.
Later, he pulled out his phone and called my number. It went straight to voicemail.
"Tess Reinhardt," he said, his jaw tight. "If you don't pick up, you're dead to me."
He still didn't know.
I was already dead.
And he was the only one who would never believe it.

Connor Mitchell and I are the golden couple of our industry. Everyone sees him as the devoted husband, always bringing me soup when I work late into the night.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me an expensive diamond necklace and posted something sweet on Instagram. The comments were all variations of the same thing: jealousy.

I used to believe it too.

Until I cut my trip to Europe short and got into that SUV. The passenger seat was set at the wrong angle, too far forward for my height. A contact lens case fell out of the sun visor, and neither of us wears contacts.

When I had my cousin pull the dashcam footage and saw him with his arm around some petite girl getting into the car, the truth hit me. My attentive husband, the one who called me every night I was away, had been using my connections and resources to play successful mentor to a twenty-two-year-old intern.

The irony is, he thinks he's gotten away with it. He has no idea I can see right through every move he makes.

Once rot sets into a perfect marriage, no amount of perfume can hide the stench.

Seven years. Seven bonding ceremonies. Seven times a pack of feral strays charged through the territory on the full moon and tore into me before the marking could take.
I thought the Moon Goddess had cursed us.
Then I woke up in the pack hospital and heard my Alpha whispering to her — the delicate white wolf he called his "sister."
"Next time you let them in, could you tell them to go easier? I'm scared she might actually die."
Seven years of attacks. Every single one orchestrated by the man I loved, designed to break me down until I gave up the Luna title and made room for her.
So I played the recording in front of his grandmother, looked him in the eye, and ended the engagement myself.
He thought that was the worst I could do.
He had no idea what those seven years had already cost me — what was already shutting down inside my body while he stood there worrying about her.
By the time he found out, it was far too late.

I was marrying Boone Ashcroft on a Saturday morning. Before I could step out of the truck, his mother walked up with a rope and pointed at the cattle chute behind the barn.
Her terms: hands and knees through six inches of mud and manure. A metal headgate clamped around my neck at the end. That was the price of walking through her front door.
I said no.
Then forty Ashcrofts surrounded the truck. My phone had zero signal. My family was blocked behind a hay baler a quarter mile back. And the man I'd spent three years with looked me in the eye and said: "You're going through that chute today. Crawling or walking — pick one."
They cornered my best friend. Threw hog blood on the windshield. Thought nobody was coming for me.
They didn't know about the CB radio under the console — or the ten cousins listening on the other end.

The day I presented as an omega, I caught my boyfriend cheating.
Then my first heat hit early.
With no suppressants left, I had only one person to ask for help: Adrian Holt—my infuriatingly perfect alpha roommate.
“Do you have a suppressant?”
Adrian glanced at my tear-streaked face.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “I’m out.”
Desperate, I made him an offer neither of us could take back.
“Then bite me. Just a temporary mark.”
What I didn’t know was that Adrian had plenty of suppressants.
And nothing about the way he wanted me was temporary.

As the old Don’s adopted daughter, I married the old Don’s son, Luciano.
Luciano also adopted a daughter, and after the old Don died, once he became the new Don, he declared he would marry her.
“When you adopted Sara, how old was she? Now she’s just come of age and you’ve already gotten her pregnant. All these years, was I raising your mistress for you?” My voice was trembling. “And more than that, you personally wiped out her entire family back then. Does she know?”
“Do you know why I spared Sara in the first place? Because she looked like someone. Emily, now that you’re old and no longer attractive, Sara just happens to satisfy my needs. Consider it compensation for her.”
I took our only daughter, Jenny, aborted the child I had just conceived for him, and planned to disappear from his world.

"I gave you a life… and you took mine with it."

She woke up in a sterile hospital room, her body aching, her womb empty.
The child she carried—gone.
No name. No face. No goodbye.

To him, it was just a transaction. A contract. A child born of benefit.
To her, it was the beginning of everything—and the end of herself.

Years passed. Her heart hardened. But fate, cruel and poetic, dragged him back into her orbit.
Only this time, there are secrets.
And bloodlines.
And a storm of revenge, waiting to unravel them both.

In a world where love is a luxury and hatred is inherited, how do you survive the one man who cost you everything… yet still makes your heart ache?