3902 Book(s) Related to rejected ex luna come back to me

In my past life, I was ruined by the transfer student at the werewolf academy. My fated mates were the triplets, the most popular figures at school, yet they all stood by her side.

The eldest of the triplets, Kai, my combat instructor who had always guided and cared for me, shielded her behind him.

The middle one was Jack, the campus heartthrob. We used to be inseparable, but now he ran errands for her.

The youngest was Leo, a musical prodigy who had been pursuing me, now obeying her every command.

Three men who once favored me above all else forced me to kneel and apologize for that transfer student.

Unable to defend myself, I was locked in an abandoned training room to reflect, and ultimately pushed off a cliff by the transfer student to my death.

Reborn, I vowed to stay far away from them and never participate in this ridiculous game again.

But when they learned I was about to transfer to the top-tier "Silver Moon Academy" for advanced studies, all three men panicked.

The acrid smell of the bullet piercing my skull hadn't even dissipated when I came back to life.

I was reborn back to the third week of the apocalypse. At this time, the tyrant of the fifth checkpoint was stripping me of my right to pass and kicking me into a horde of thousands of zombies.

In my past life, I also died here. But until the moment of my death, these fools didn't know that—within the skulls of those terrifying zombies lay divine crystal cores capable of "freezing time"!

Having been given a second chance at life, I did not run away.

I calmly snapped the neck of the first monster and pried the glowing key out of the rotten flesh.

The instant I forcibly froze the torrential, highly corrosive acid rain in mid-air, I knew that this apocalyptic hunting game... had shifted in power dynamics.

On the first day of college, most freshmen worry about making new friends. I had to figure out how to pay my own parents for a plate of lunch.
With every penny of my tuition and living expenses strictly controlled by them, I stood empty-handed in front of their campus Gospel food truck. But my mother didn't want cash.
She wanted a public spectacle to cure my "sinful depression."
My younger sister bought her lunch with a simple kiss on the cheek. But for me?
My mother pointed to the growing crowd of students and delivered her ultimatum: sing the toddler nursery rhyme 'My Mommy Is the Best' at the top of my lungs, or starve.
I chose to put the food down and walk away.
But my mother rushed out of the truck. Her fingernails dug violently into my wrist, dragging me back into her nightmare. "You're not leaving until you sing."

I've always been a little slower than everyone else.

Ethan Walker used to promise he'd wait for me. We'd been best friends since we were four.

Then Madison Reed came along, and he stopped keeping that promise.

At dinner, they'd leave before I finished eating. At the beach, they disappeared while I was still struggling to swim back to shore.

I kept making excuses for him.

Until the night I arrived late to a party and heard one of his friends ask, "Where's Alice? Thought she was coming with you."

Ethan let out an annoyed sigh.

"She's probably still getting ready. You know how slow she is."

"Why didn't you wait?"

"Because it's exhausting. Everything takes twice as long with her around. I'm not spending my whole life waiting for her."

I stood outside the door, unable to move.

I'd spent years trying to catch up to him.

I never realized he'd been counting the minutes until he could leave me behind.

Ethan and Madison had been planning to attend UCLA together for months. They'd already made it clear that they expected me to go with them, too.

He assumed I'd follow, just like always.

But I quietly accepted my offer from the University of Washington instead.

Ethan was right about one thing.

He shouldn't have to spend his life waiting for me.

So this time, I chose Seattle.

And I gave him a future without me.

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my grandmother in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my only family die.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

I longed for family affection and true love all my life. I tried my best to get along with my stepbrother Karen, and wholeheartedly loved his friend Nolan. However, my sincerity was trampled into the mud. They conspired to hurt me, spread indecent content to ruin my life, and even broke the last relic left by my grandmother. I suffered countless humiliations and injuries, then chose to leave without saying goodbye. Years later, the two men were trapped in endless regret, but I had already walked out of the shadow of the past. Trust is gone, and so is my tenderness for them.

One hundred years married to Everett, and I've learned one thing: whenever he wants to push me into a corner, he throws the mate bond dissolution agreement in my face. Whenever my parents want me to cave, they hold the family name over my head.

They've always wanted the same thing — for me to hand over everything I have to my twin sister Rosalie, who's been sick her whole life.

I've fought it. I've grieved over it.

But when the doctor slid the diagnosis across the desk — Blood Depletion Syndrome, late stage, less than two weeks left — something in me just went quiet.

What's the point of fighting when you're already dead?

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

Six months ago, my parents started fostering a girl named Lila Mercer.
Six months ago, Mom repainted the guest room and strung fairy lights over the bed. My room still has the same furniture I've had since I was twelve.
Six months ago, Dad started coming home for Sunday dinner. Not for me. I'd been eating alone at the counter for years by then.
Six months ago, Mom posted a photo of the two of them at the farmers market. Caption: our family is growing. I saw it during third period and locked my phone hard enough to crack the case.
So when I picked up the family iPad tonight and a notification popped up from an app I didn't recognize, I wasn't shocked. Just tired of being right.
The app was called Beacon.

I waited five years for a heart transplant.
My mother—the Luna of our Pack, the healer everyone worships—gave it to someone else.
An orphan girl she took in. A girl who now calls her "Mom."
Ivy got my heart. She got a wolf. She got a mate and a wedding so grand the whole Pack attended.
Me? I watched from the corner, still dying, while my mother smiled for the cameras and accepted praise for her "selfless sacrifice."
When I finally snapped at the ceremony, she slapped me. Told me to apologize. Said I was embarrassing the family.
I'm her actual daughter. I'm the one who can't shift, can't feel a mate bond, can't survive another six months.
But sure. I'm the problem.
They wanted me to stay quiet and die gracefully.
I chose to make sure everyone sees who their perfect Luna really is.

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.
In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.
Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.
This time, I said: "Take Niamh."
The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.
He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.
I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

My uncle cut off my allowance the moment he spotted my new tongue piercing. That night, I found a stranger online asking how to make his friend’s “gold-digging girlfriend” leave him. I told him to send her money. Minutes later, $8,888 landed in my account—from my uncle’s best friend, Adrian Foster, the handsome, buttoned-up man who thought my uncle was my boyfriend. The stranger was him. The gold-digging girlfriend was me. And the man he thought was my boyfriend? My uncle.

On the night of my 28th birthday, my husband was stuck in the OR.
The man sitting across from me at dinner was his best friend, Ronan.
I got drunk. Half-asleep, I pulled a man who smelled exactly like Nate into my bed.
When morning broke, the truth did too—the man pinning me down was Ronan. He’d used my husband’s cologne.
"From the first time I saw you, I wanted to steal you from him."
Crying, I confessed everything to Nate over the phone. Dead silence for three seconds, then he hung up.
By the time I rushed home, Ronan was dragging two suspiciously heavy black suitcases out the door. And my husband... vanished off the face of the earth.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.

After I took in my first love, she promised she'd always be good to me.
But after my mother died in a car accident, I found her in our home—with another man.
She told everyone Colin was her true love, that I was just a little brother she never wanted, and that I was the one who couldn't let go.
Everyone turned against me. My father had a stroke from the rage. Colin even had someone run me over—cost me an eye.
Seven years later.
I stood outside a convenience store holding flowers when I saw them.
Audrey's daughter looked at me with pity. "Mom, that man only has one eye... Is he selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

My brother Adrian said I was the one person who could make him drop everything.
I believed him—until his girlfriend came to our house.
She waited for Adrian to leave the room. Then she grabbed my chin, accused me of stealing her boyfriend, and slapped me across the face.
I was only three. She still warned me not to tell.
When Adrian returned, she smiled and said I had fallen.
But the red fingerprints on my cheek told a different story.
So did the camera above us.

To Alpha Damien, Sophia was never a Luna—merely a breathing womb.
For years, she bore the weight of his cold indifference, trapped in a marriage where he only touched her on the "fertility days" his mother decreed.
While he flaunted his mistress Tiffany through the kingdom, Sophia was given a brutal ultimatum--
Return only when you carry a son.
She nearly lost her life giving birth to their daughter. But her suffering meant nothing—not to Damien, not to his vicious mother, and certainly not to a pack that saw her as nothing more than disposable breeding stock.
Now, pregnant again, Sophia overhears Damien's callous words:
She can handle the risks better than Tiffany.
In that moment, something in her snaps.
She's done being the obedient Luna.
Done enduring endless humiliation.
Done watching Tiffany poison their daughter's mind and steal the motherhood that should have been hers.
But escaping an Alpha is no easy feat—not when their bond refuses to break… and dark enemies lie in wait, hungry to seize control of her unborn heir.
Will Sophia reclaim her life, her daughter, and the wolf that’s been dormant inside her for far too long?
Or will the man she once loved burn every last thing she holds dear to the ground?

Three months before I marry billionaire Adrian Vale, I receive a text from an unknown number.

DON’T MARRY MY HUSBAND.

The sender claims to be Celeste Vale—Adrian’s first wife.

There’s only one problem.

Celeste has been dead for four years.

I assume someone is playing a sick joke until the messages reveal secrets no stranger should know. Details about Adrian’s body. His first marriage. The night Celeste died.

Then one message warns me not to eat a box of chocolates arriving at my office.

The chocolates are poisoned.

Suddenly, Adrian’s protection becomes suffocating. Security follows me everywhere. I’m moved into the sprawling estate where Celeste once lived. Doors are locked. Cameras fail. Someone enters my bedroom while I sleep.

And the dead woman keeps texting me.

But the most terrifying discovery isn’t that someone wants me dead.

It’s an old photograph hidden among Celeste’s belongings.

A photograph of me taken eight years before I ever met Adrian.

Adrian recognizes it.

Because our first meeting wasn’t an accident.

Now I don’t know who to trust—the dead woman warning me away from my fiancé, or the dangerously powerful man who admits he searched for me long before I knew his name.

Adrian swears he didn’t kill Celeste.

I want to believe him.

But the deeper I dig into his family’s past, the more women I find who vanished, died, or were silenced after learning secrets they were never meant to know.

And Celeste may have died trying to make sure I wasn’t next.

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

It was a rainy night, and I was running wildly down the road, with that man behind me chasing relentlessly, a malicious grin on his face. Desperately searching for a safe haven, the lit-up bookstore not far ahead seemed to be my only glimmer of hope.
But I tripped. I tried to scramble back to my feet quickly, yet the rain and the slippery ground sent me crashing down again. A sharp pain shot through my knees, while the sound of footsteps behind me grew louder and louder. I frantically reached out to grab the gravel in the muddy water; my fingertips had just brushed against a sharp-edged stone when a low sigh echoed in my ear: "You can't run away."
I turned my head to look. He was already standing right in front of me, rainwater dripping down his distorted face, his eyes glinting with a crazy and cruel light. He slowly knelt down, one hand clamping my chin tightly to force me to meet his gaze, and a blood-curdling laugh escaped his lips: "I've finally got you tonight. You will be mine forever."
Will Claire survive? And will she successfully escape the attacker's assault?
This is a novel of extraordinary imagination—step in and seek the thrill and the answer.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

"The clocks stopped at 12:01 AM and a burning sigil carved itself into my spine. That's when they came for me."

Thalira Moonwhisper thought she was ordinary—until her seventeenth birthday, when two men in dark cloaks appeared at her door.

"It's time. You're coming with us."

At Duskmoor Academy, four impossibly beautiful boys claim they've been waiting fifty years for her return.

"You've died four times and each time we failed to save you."

But Thalira doesn't remember dying. She doesn't remember them. Doesn't remember the ancient power inside her that can bend time itself.

Then her twin sister Luna arrives with a desperate warning:

"A serial killer is hunting our pack and he's been watching us since we were children."

The killer knows what Thalira really is. And he's not working alone.

"I've been waiting for you little phoenix. Your father sends his regards."

Four deaths. Four soul-bound boys. One twin she never knew. And an ancient prophecy that says the Moonwhisper sisters will either save the world or watch it burn.

"You're not just a Phoenix Soul Thalira. You're the weapon that ends everything."

Sometimes the person you're destined to save is yourself.

A tortured moan escaped him when I ground my hips into his once more.

Fuelled by the harshness of his kisses, I reached between us and slipped my hands into his pants. His cock was hot and thick against my palm.

“Fuck..” He groaned in my ear as I began twirling my thumb around the head of his length. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside your pussy.”


Sienna Adams, an orphaned Omega accustomed to living in the shadows, has always known her place at the bottom of pack hierarchy. When mysterious changes begin to surface, she hides the truth as long as she can, until exposure forces her to flee into dangerous Lycan territory.

There she encounters King Logan Draven, her fated mate, who rejects the bond, convinced she is too fragile for his world. One passionate night changes everything, but by morning he is gone, leaving Sienna heartbroken and determined to disappear.

Five years later, fate brings them together again. Sienna is no longer the vulnerable Omega he abandoned; she has grown stronger, independent, and fiercely protective of the secret she carries, their son. With war looming and hidden enemies rising, Logan realizes the gravity of his past choices.

Determined not to repeat his mistakes, he seeks redemption and a second chance at the family he never knew he had.

As old wounds clash with undeniable destiny, Sienna must decide whether to trust the man who once shattered her heart. Between power struggles, hidden bloodlines, and a love neither can escape, both must confront the past to protect their future, before fate tears them apart forever.

Temptation has a way of slipping past every boundary and challenging even the strongest resolve. What appears controlled, familiar, and respectable on the surface often hides emotions that are far more complicated beneath. Hearts are drawn toward connections they know they should resist. Unexpected. Irresistible. Forbidden.
Inside this collection, you will find stories like these:
A lonely wife finding comfort in the one man she was never meant to fall for... her bodyguard.
A woman torn between loyalty and unexpected feelings for her husband's quiet, brooding brother.
A young employee caught in a life-changing connection with her powerful CEO.
A student navigating an undeniable attraction to a professor twice her age.
And many more stories where boundaries are tested and forbidden feelings refuse to fade.
Every story explores love, temptation, and impossible choices.
Emotional. Addictive. Impossible to forget.
Several forbidden romances.
One unforgettable collection.
Will you dare to turn the page?

Ice Meets Fire.

On the ice, dating or fucking a teammate is forbidden. At home, Tanakorn’s father has even crueler rules. Never date a man. Win every game. Show no weakness. Replace his dead brother, the perfect hockey star, or be disowned.
As the ice-cold captain of the Vanguard Tigers, Tanakorn follows every rule without fail. Until the arrogant new rookie Krittanai is assigned to him for personal training. What starts as pure hatred ignites into a dangerous all consuming desire neither can control.
Stolen locker room touches. Heated nights that break every rule. A reckless 14-day challenge that risks everything.
But others also want Tanakorn too, and jealousy is only the beginning. When violence erupts and Tanakorn’s traumatic past resurfaces, he finally lowers his walls for the one man who risked it all to protect him.
Until the devastating truth crashes down: the person he trusted most has been his enemy from the very first day.
Now, with his career, his team, his family, and his shattered heart on the line, Tanakorn must decide. Will this obsessive love break him for good, or destroy them both?
A dark MM enemies to lovers hockey romance packed with possessive passion, forbidden heat, and a love intense enough to burn everything down.

18+ (Mature content: explicit scenes, rough physicality, emotional manipulation, psychological tension, angst, sensitive topics including rape trauma by brother’s lover, survivor’s guilt, family neglect/abuse, death of a loved one, coming out trauma—reader discretion strongly advised

"I've always thought the human mind is its own heaven, and it's own hell. Until the day she came into my life. She is the precise point where my sanity fractures, and God help me, I never wanted to fall into the abyss more."

AN ISOLATED ISLAND. AN INCOMING WORLD WAR. AND TWO MONSTERS TIED TO THE SAME LEASH.

Miles away from human civilisation lies Sector 9—The White Room. It isn't a facility; it's a subterranean graveyard for the most dangerous anomalies on the planet. The apex killers. The unhinged. The biological nightmares too lethal for regular prisons. Here, the world's worst aren't just contained, they are brocken, experimented on, and forged into soulless weapons for the impending World War III.

Cleo is a ghost of a girl drowning in her own trauma, fighting every single day just to keep her internal demons at bay. Then she's tethered at the neck of Kenji Sato—the Island's infuriating class clown who could walk off the Island anytime he pleases, but chooses to stay. While Cleo fights to quiet the madness in her head, Kenji wants to meet her demons. He doesn't want her body or trust—he wants to rule her mind, and he'll tear everything apart just to kneel for her in her dark space.

[Stand Alone Book: I Dare You sequel]
( DISCLAIMER‼️: Not your regular Romance!!! 🔞 proceed with caution <3
You do not need to read book one to read this book but I advice you start with book 1 in order to understand the narrative better.)

“If another man dares to glance your way, Annaliese, I’ll blind him. If he dares to speak your name, I’ll cut his throat. You are not for the world to see, not for anyone else to want. You are mine to look at, mine to take, mine to own , and no one… I mean no one else gets a single piece of you.” Cassian heaved, resting his entire face against the crook of my neck. “Do you hear me?”

———————-

To be an omega is to be invisible. To be a wolfless omega is to be prey.

Annaliese had survived years of hell in the Silverpine Pack but nothing could have prepared her for the agony of finding her fated mate in Alpha Cassian Blackthorn, the ruthless and most powerful Alpha in the north. The man who disliked weakness and weak people, the man that looks at her with disgust.

Annaliese had thought that was over until she realizes Cassian’s obsession now borders on madness.

Cassian won’t let her leave the pack house. Won’t let other wolves near her. Won’t stop appearing whenever she goes with wild eyes and clenched fists as if the rejection broke something inside him instead of her.

He doesn’t want her but he can’t let her go.

When Alpha Ronan Visits and shows interest in the worthless Omega everyone else ignores, the fragile control Cassian’s bee clinging to snapped.

Suddenly Annaliese is caught in a deadly game between two Alphas, and she doesn’t know the rules.

But the more she searches for answers, the more she realizes that some truths are buried in blood.

And digging them up might cost her everything.

Being a Cinderella, I was forced to marry a rich man who was crippled. But I was shocked when I met him. He made me realize that I deserved nothing but him. Now I don't care about his health situation. All I want is him by my side.
That's all, I felt when I fall in love with him slowly, desperately and hopelessly. Until on the honeymoon, I finally found out, my husband who loves me dearly , met his first love who supposed to be dead. Will he leave me for her?

She was the fastest woman in America until one race with him destroyed everything she built. Now the only path back to the Olympics forces her to train, run and win beside the man she has hated for three years. But the closer they get, the more she realizes the crash that ruined her life was never an accident..

When her father's corpse is found deep inside a river, Camellia Adams believes he was murdered and is determined to find her father's killer.

The police wouldn't investigate the case, so she's all alone. Still, she refuses to give up.

She does thorough research, and all clues about her father's death point to the most notorious and ruthless man that everyone dreads: The Viper.

He owns the ‘Faceless Brothers’ mafia organization, and no one knows exactly what he looks like.

Camellia enters the organization and starts working in one of their nightclubs as a waitress, hoping to get more information about the man and why he killed her father.

But she doesn't know he's been waiting for her to come to him.

He's been impatiently waiting since the first day he set his eyes on her. So it's about time their paths cross.

To her, it's revenge. To him, it's fate. He's always believed they were meant to be together. Even though he'd preferred lurking in the dark and watching her.

Camellia believes he's the Devil. And maybe he is. Or maybe he's not. Maybe he's just a menace who can't get over his obsession with her.

"You're adopted, you know. Mom and Dad got you out of foster care."

My sister said that to me during a fight when I was eight.

I ran to my parents in tears, needing them to tell me it wasn't true. Instead, they pulled her into their arms and nodded at me.

"It's true. Your real parents didn't want you."

For the next fifteen years, I lived like a package that could be returned to sender at any moment.

I never fought with my sister and never asked for anything. I rushed to finish every chore and came in first on every test, all so they'd feel like keeping me was worth it.

This October, I flew home a few days early so I could stay a little longer.

My hand had barely touched the doorknob when I heard my sister's voice coming from the living room. She was telling a room full of relatives a funny story.

"My sister is honestly hilarious. We got into a fight when we were kids, and I just said she was adopted. And she believed me."

"Still believes it, actually. Best part is, it turned her into our very own little maid."

"You never told her?" one of the relatives asked, stunned.

It was Mom who answered, as casually as if she were talking about the weather.

"Why would we? Ever since she bought it, she's been an angel. She jumps on every chore before anyone even has to ask."

"Honestly, best joke we ever made. It's paid off big time."

A chill ran through me, and I froze outside the door.

So fifteen years of walking on eggshells was just a punchline to them.

I didn't storm in and demand an explanation. I stood right where I was, pulled out my phone, and signed the contract for a five-year assignment in Sweden.

If they loved this joke so much, fine. I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

The "outsider" would walk out of their lives for good.

At the quarterly all-hands, during the raffle, my boyfriend won the company's two-person trip to Santorini.
The whole room was hooting, asking who he'd take.
I stood in the crowd, heart hammering.
The night before, in bed, I'd told him I was so tired, that I wanted to see the sea. He said once this busy stretch was over, he'd take me.
The old employee handbook said anyone dating someone from their own department had to report it to HR, and one of them had to transfer out. Neither of us wanted to leave, so we never went public.
So I said nothing. I just looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
He glanced in my direction.
Then he looked at someone else.
"Sophie. She really came through on that last project — I promised her a trip and never made good on it."
The hooting exploded.
Sophie got pushed into the middle by colleagues, blushing and laughing.
I stood where I was, mind a total blank.
All the way until after it broke up, when he chased me into the fire stairwell to explain.
"Listen to me. Her father is our biggest client. I'm right in the middle of my promotion review. I can't afford to offend her."
I turned and looked at him.
"Then go be with her. You two are a better fit."

My boyfriend had refused to sleep with me for years.

I thought he was shy, inexperienced, or hiding something painful.

Then I found his journal.

In it, Adrian Shaw wrote that my stepsister had warned him I would despise a virgin who didn't know how to please me.

He hated the thought of touching another woman, he said.

He loved me.

But he had decided to practice anyway—for my sake.

I still believed we could fix it, right up until I heard him agree to meet another woman in secret.

So I gave him one last chance to tell me the truth.

He lied, crossed the line he knew mattered most to me, and expected love to erase the choice.

By the time he understood what I had actually wanted, another man was already waiting at my door—a man who had heard my standard years ago and remembered every word.

I am the fearsome godfather of the Mafia.
For the woman I love, I sheathed my fangs and willingly became a despised commoner son-in-law.
In the horrific car accident, I shielded her with my own flesh and blood, and steel bars pierced through my chest.
Faced with the only life-saving machine in the entire hospital, she did not hesitate to save her lightly injured "white moonlight" brother-in-law, leaving me to die in the basement.
She thought that as long as I bled to death, she could naturally embrace perfect love.
But she didn't know—
Without my protection, her proud, century-old family wouldn't even last a month ...

In the apocalypse, during my escape, I awakened a useless superpower: reset .
My girlfriend, despising me as a burden who only creates junk, conspired with the mercenary captain to kick me into a horde of zombies.
She had planned everything, except for one thing.
My superpower wasn't "creating junk," but a conceptual-level divine skill !
A zombie bites my heart? Reset my body's state, instantly revived!
A rabid mutant attacks? Reset its hunger nerve, making it instantly kneel like a dog!
I single-handedly fought my way through the zombie horde and knocked on the shelter's door.
Beside the captain's shattered neck, I held my desperately begging ex-girlfriend upside down, smiling as I suspended her directly above the zombie horde.
"You were right, useless people should be zombie food. Now, it's your turn to prove your worth."
Then, I released her.

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

The day college decisions came out, my parents bought my twin sister a Porsche.
It was my eighteenth birthday too. Nobody brought it up. I stood in the doorway in my diner uniform while the whole room sang her name.
That night the four of them went out to dinner to celebrate her. The car only sat four, so my father handed me a hundred dollars and told me to order myself something at home.
Four days later, six thousand four hundred dollars vanished from my account. Two years of washing dishes, gone to her sorority dues. My mother's name was on the account, so it wasn't even illegal.
I didn't scream and I didn't beg. I went upstairs and clicked Accept on the full ride to MIT that had been sitting in my inbox for three days.
Nobody in that house ever wanted me. So I booked a one-way ticket, cut myself out of the family photo, and left my key on the shoe rack.
I wasn't coming back. Not for graduation. Not for any of them.

My childhood sweetheart, Henry, gave me a glass of milk the night before my Harvard interview.
I thought he cared.
Until I woke up with my waist-length hair hacked off and my brain drowning in sedatives.
Later, I found him at a cafe, laughing with the prettiest girl, Madison, in our class.
"You actually cut her hair? You're insane, Henry!" she giggled.
"Truth or dare, babe," I heard him. "She's fat anyway. But you need that Harvard spot, Madison."
The boy who promised to marry me traded my dream to impress someone else.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
Let him have his joke. I'm taking my life back.

"I agree." I signed away my life to save the girl who framed me. My mate didn't even look up from her tears to notice I was dying. "Stop pretending. This much blood loss won't kill you," he said, storming out with her in his arms. What he didn't know? That contract wasn't a healing pact—it was an execution order. And I'd just started my 72-hour countdown to burn his entire kingdom down with me.

The day college applications were due, Fern Whitmore wouldn't stop crying — and my two childhood best friends were completely wrapped around her finger.

They actually threatened to give up their Ivy League spots to follow her to community college.

I tried everything to talk them out of it. Nothing worked. So I went behind their backs and called both their parents.

Their parents showed up that same night and put a stop to it. Applications corrected, crisis averted, everyone back on track.

Or so I thought.

Fern lost her two personal ATMs, and one night she posted a goodbye message on social media and swallowed a bottle of pills.

Nash and Declan didn't blame her for it. They blamed me.

They lured me up to the roof. Both of them shoved their hands against my chest.

"Maren." Declan's voice was ice. "You ruined Fern's future. Go apologize to her in hell."

I fell twelve stories.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at the beginning.

This time, I'm not saving anyone.

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

On my twenty-fourth birthday, my grandfather dropped the bombshell: I was an orphan.
After learning about my biological family, I decided to do something nice. I bought a limited-edition sports car as a gift for the father I had never met.
But at the dealership, I was publicly humiliated by my brother's mistress.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I called my brother.
When he arrived, it was only to back her up.
"This birthmark is ugly; let me help you get rid of it."
My own brother used a cigar to burn off the birthmark behind my ear and had my suffering broadcast on the mall's LED screen.
"Listen, if anyone dares to treat this woman’s injuries, I’ll have their license revoked in this city for good!"
But he didn’t know that the grandfather who raised me was someone no one in this city could even dream of looking up to.
When my grandfather arrived with a top-notch medical team and armed mercenaries, sealing off the entire building, my arrogant brother finally realized his mistake.