274 Book(s) Related to harder daddy

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

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

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

I snapped photos of pale yellow baby clothes I’d bought at Target, posted them on Instagram captioned “Juno's wardrobe.”
Right after I put my phone away, my mother-in-law Genevieve called and berated me. She claimed I’d lost my mind after our stillbirth, insisted I wasn’t pregnant, and demanded I delete the post.
As soon as we hung up, my water broke.
Six hours later, I woke up worn out on a hospital delivery bed at Devereux Memorial Hospital. No baby cried anywhere.
My husband Elias sat beside me with bloodshot eyes. He pulled a lifelike silicone fake pregnancy belly out and set it on my lap, begging me to accept I wasn’t actually carrying a child. I screamed that I’d given birth and demanded to know where my baby Juno was.
Dr. Beckett and a team of doctors walked in, diagnosing me with pseudocyesis—phantom pregnancy. They said I’d only worn a silicone pad to fake a belly. My parents stood nearby, staring at me with shameful pity.
They forced me onto a psychiatric ambulance. I was locked in a windowless ward, drugged nonstop, tormented by the loss of my daughter, until every ounce of my will faded away...

My wife and my best friend had been sleeping together behind my back for a long time. Once the apocalypse hit, they completely dropped the act. While I was still stressing over how we would survive, they threw me straight into a zombie horde—just to buy themselves a few seconds to escape.
Given a second chance at life, I chose to report the impending zombie outbreak to the government, securing my place as a top-tier protected asset for the nation.
But what I didn't expect was... my wife and best friend were reborn too.

After Grandpa passed away, he left two inheritances behind.
One was an underground shelter costing over a hundred million yuan.
The other was a crumbling old house on the brink of collapse in the village.
My younger sister Su Rou rushed to pick the underground shelter first, so I settled for the old house.
No one expected an extreme cold apocalypse to descend just days later.
Su Rou moved into the shelter with her boyfriend.
But her boyfriend leaked the gate password, attracting a mob of thugs.
Su Rou was reduced to their plaything, trapped in a fate worse than death.
As for me, I discovered the old house’s cellar connected to a natural underground hot spring. I managed to survive by sheer luck.
When Su Rou heard the news, she was consumed by envy. She led the thugs straight to me, forcing me to take her place.
"Sister, you’ve always been the nicest to me since we were kids. You’ll save me, right? You take my place and serve them instead."
I could no longer endure the humiliation. I set fire to the place and died alongside them all.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the very moment we chose the inheritances.
Seeing Su Rou pick the run-down old house without the slightest hesitation, I knew she had also been reborn.
I bowed my head to hide all my emotions, then silently chose the underground shelter.
My dear sister… that drafty, ramshackle old house is nowhere near as wonderful as you think it is.

Five years of cold marriage turned me into a stranger in my own home.
Ignored, unloved, I finally ran—taking the child he never knew about.
I thought he would forget me.
Instead, the moment I left, the ruthless CEO lost his mind… and started hunting me down.

Three months. That’s all I have left.
For years, I was nothing more than his invisible wife—cleaning up his messes, enduring his coldness, watching him love someone else.
Now I want freedom, not him.
But suddenly, he’s holding on… remembering my favorite meals, guarding me like I’m his last treasure, whispering for me to stay.
Too late. My heart has been shattered beyond repair.
And with the clock running out, love might not be enough to save me.

I’m Molly Johnson. At my own engagement party, I witnessed my fiancé’s betrayal with my stepsister right before my eyes. Devastated, I turned around and married Edward Howard—a wealthy heir rumored to be terminally ill, with not much time left to live.
Everyone laughed, saying I was in a hurry to become a widow. But little did they know, I leaned close to his ear, my breath warm and teasing: “Since you don’t have much time left, why not play a little game with me?”
I flirted with him, tempted him, watched as his indifference slowly melted into a blush at the tips of his ears.
Until one day, he cornered me against the wall, his eyes burning with longing. “Molly… tease me again. Please.”

For three years, I was his hidden wife. His secretary by day, his wife by night. No ring, no ceremony, no recognition. I gave up my medical career to save his dying company.
Then she came back. His first love. He announced her as his fiancée at his victory party. Right in front of me.
He asked for a divorce. I signed.
But he never knew the truth. That I was once the top student of a medical legend. That the secret drawing he found—the one he thought was another man—was actually him. That the woman he discarded is about to become the one he can never reach again.
Now? It's my turn to rise.

Five years. That's what I gave him. And what did I get? Another woman. And divorce papers he never believed I'd sign.

My husband, Zachary Francis, built his empire on my work—then handed my studio to his mistress and told me I wasn't good enough. On my birthday, he pushed me aside to rescue her from a fire she started herself. The day I finally signed? He laughed. He was sure I'd come crawling back.

But Jonathan Morris saw what my husband never did. He sees my talent. He sees me. A man who treats me like something precious, not a tool—he's offering me everything I once thought I'd lost forever.

Now Zachary watches me leave him behind. His company is falling apart. And the woman who replaced me? She's slowly turning into me.

And him?

He said I couldn't survive without him. Now he's the one begging. But I'm already gone.

For five years, I loved Daniel Wilson with everything I had—only to watch him kiss his new secretary at our celebration dinner. That was the moment I finally woke up.
Disillusioned with love, I agreed to a marriage of convenience. I thought I was marrying the notorious playboy, Ethan Williams. But when we signed the papers, the name on the marriage certificate was Benjamin Williams—the ruthless business king everyone calls the “King of Hell.”
He showered me with priceless jewelry, wiped out my enemies, and shielded me from every storm. But he never once said he loved me.
Until one night, he pinned me against the wall, his breath hot against my skin, and whispered,
“Sophia, how much longer do you want me to wait?”
Turns out, this marriage was never an accident. It was his plan from the very beginning.

Five years of marriage, and he never once looked at me with love. He called me a gold digger. He forced me to take birth control. And on our last night together, he moaned another woman's name in my ear.
I left with nothing but my dignity—and a secret I didn't even know I was carrying.
Six years later, I'm back. Not as the doormat wife he discarded, but as an award-winning scientist with a five-year-old son and a powerful family behind me. He's still engaged to his precious first love. And neither of them knows that the little boy calling me "Mommy" has his eyes.
He wants me back. He says he regrets everything.
But regret doesn't undo the past. And this time, I'm playing by my own rules.

I was once a brilliant researcher, but I gave up my career for my family. Everything changed during a camping trip—my husband abandoned me in the wilderness, and my son called another woman “Mom.” My husband openly favored his mistress, neglecting both me and our daughter. Heartbroken, I decided to divorce him and take my daughter with me, determined to reclaim my career and my life.

He thought I was just being petty, convinced that I’d have nothing once I left him.

But one day, when he showed up with our son and saw me and our daughter happily by another man’s side, he finally panicked…

I'm Sophia. After three years of marriage, my husband abandoned me for his first love, leaving me in danger and at the mercy of a stranger.
Desperate and pregnant, he accused me of cheating and even tried to harm our unborn child.
Five years later, I return with twins. With tears in his eyes, he demands, “Whose children are they? Who did you cheat on me with?”

I was declared dead in a car accident—while my husband was desperately trying to save the woman he truly loved.
Five years later, I return with top medical skills and two adorable children. Now, the world knows me as the renowned “Dr. Green.”
With red-rimmed eyes, Charles Windsor corners me and chokes out, “Diana, our children… are they still alive?”

That night, I thought I was just doing the decent thing—getting a drugged man back to his room.
The moment the door shut, the air turned white-hot. He caught my wrist and pinned me against the door, his breath scorching, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. “Don’t go.”
I should’ve walked away. Instead, his trembling fingers and the kiss that felt like a plea knocked every thought out of my head.
Fabric slipped, heartbeats slammed, sheets twisted into a mess. In the dark, I heard my own breath come undone—and I heard him call for me again and again, unable to say my name.
By morning, he remembered nothing.
He hadn’t seen my face, couldn’t trace who I was. But I knew exactly who he was—and how dangerous he’d be once he sobered up.
So I buried that night in silence, played stranger, didn’t let my eyes linger.
Because I knew—if he ever caught me, I wouldn’t get away.

Five years ago, at the engagement party, Alice was schemed against by her malicious sister Nova and was cast out of the family. Nova seized their mother's only inheritance.
Pregnant and unwed, Alice didn't know who the father was.
Five years later, Alice returned with her three children, determined to reclaim everything that belonged to her. To her astonishment, she discovered that the father of her children was none other than her fiancé from five years ago.
Mr. Hall: "You gave birth to my three children. Why won't you accept me?"
Alice: "I need love."
Mr. Hall: "I will make you feel my deep love!"
Alice: "You womanizer, always flirting around!"
Mr. Hall: "Baby, my heart has always belonged to you!"
（2/Day）

Wearing a straw hat and marked by dermal nevuses, Chloe Davis, an unattractive country bumpkin, is about to choose her husband from three dazzling heirs.
Scorned by Michael, mocked by Liam, and eyed strangely by the rest of the Martin family, Chloe is determined to change her fate.
After shedding her disguise and revealing her true beauty, Chloe captured the hearts of the three heirs of the Martin family.
She is the mischievous sweetheart in Grant's eyes, the princess he wants to protect.
She is the perfect on-screen partner in Michael's eyes, the future star of the fashion world.
She is the most stylish motorcycle goddess in Liam's eyes, the elusive figure he can never catch up to.
Let's guess, who will Chloe ultimately choose to spend the night with and share her life with?

“Jaxon,” she moans, her fingers twisting in my hair.
I reach her center, my fingers tracing the inside of her thighs. She’s soaked, and I know it has nothing to do with her shower. I can feel her clit throbbing, begging for attention. And God I'm going to give into it.


Jaxon raised by the Black Vipers since he was three, to those who know him, he’s nothing but a weapon—cold, untouchable, soulless. Across the city, Paige Taylor is the prized “Silk Tongue” of the Crimson Circle. Though innocent at heart, she has been trained from childhood to be the perfect translator and negotiato. Their paths collide during a high-stakes meeting that goes horribly wrong.

After three years of a cold, contractual marriage, Leon Cooper heartlessly divorced Tiffany Grey after a single night of passion. Realizing she had always been the villain in his eyes, Tiffany left, only to discover she was pregnant with triplets. However, after their birth, the mysterious disappearance of her second son left an indelible scar.
Five years later, Tiffany returned with her children, only to encounter Leon again. Her eldest son, Sam, recognized the little guy next to Leon as his missing brother. The two boys, united by their blood, swapped identities and devised a plan to make their proud CEO father win back their mother’s love.
The book is being serialized continuously.
（2/Day）

After reuniting with her biological parents, Zoey became a well-known failure. She sucked up in college, picked up fights, and skipped classes daily. Moreover, her engagement with the Scotts was called off due to her chaotic private life! Everyone was expecting her self-destruction. But unexpectedly, she slapped them in the face! She had a Ph.D. and was a renowned scientist. She was a national chess champion, a genius investor, a martial arts legend... As these undeniable achievements were uncovered one by one, countless people pursued her.
Meanwhile, Mr. Phillips, the business legend who once treated her with disdain, panicked: That's my wife! Get out of the way!
Thank you to the readers for your ongoing support.
The book will soon usher in a wave of updates.

When the world fell to monsters, Avery was just a girl with nothing but a name.

Now she's hunted by ancient Titans—creatures from myth that should never have been real—and saved by three deadly brothers bound in blood, magic, and secrets. Damien is cold and cruel, convinced she’s hiding something. Ezra is her reluctant protector, willing to defy his own blood for her. And Rowan… wears a muzzle for a reason.

They say she’s marked. Chosen. That the Titans want her for what she is, or what she’s becoming.

She says she just wants to go home.

But love in the ruins is dangerous, and Avery is about to learn:
you don’t survive the end of the world without breaking—or being claimed.

Riley leans in, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. Sofia responds, her lips parting as she deepens the kiss. Danny and Leo watch for a moment, then join in, their hands roaming over Sofia’s body as they kiss her neck and shoulder.

I watch, my own body reacting to the sight of my girl being kissed by my best friends. I would lie if I said I wouldn't rather take her all to myself, but I know they care for her and like her so damn much, just the way I do, and I can't help but feel warm at the thought of her getting this much love for once in her life.


To everyone else, Sofia looks like a quiet, shy girl who loves books more than people. Some even wonder if she lives in the library. But there’s a reason why she’s scared to go home; she overheard her parents planning to sell her to some rich mafia man so they could become rich themselves. Trying her best to avoid her house, she gets kidnapped by four men who planned to use her to hurt her husband-to-be. But the more time they spend with her, the more they fall in love, yes, all four of them.

Will they push their feelings aside to take down the mafia leader, or will they keep her to themselves?"

Mia Brooke saw a murder she was never supposed to survive.

Now the threats are coming, and her family has hired Callum Townes to keep her alive.

Cold, tattooed, and dangerously controlled, Callum thinks Mia is just another privileged girl who needs protection from a world she does not understand. Mia thinks he is arrogant, impossible, and the last thing she wants shadowing her every move.

But forced together by danger, the distance between them starts to disappear.

He notices every tremble she tries to hide. She sees the heat beneath his restraint. And when the threats close in, protection begins to feel like possession.

Callum was hired to guard her body.

He was never supposed to want it.

In the ashes of a fallen empire, fire is forbidden and those born with it are hunted.

For twenty-one-year-old Kaelin Dravyr, survival means hiding her emberfire beneath scars and silence. Once a smuggler of dragon relics, now a fugitive, she’s spent her life outrunning the Crown that burned her kind to extinction. But when a duel in the undercity ignites the flame within her for all to see, Kaelin’s secret shatters and the realm’s deadliest heir takes notice.

Prince Ardyn Varell, the empire’s young regent, offers Kaelin a single, ruthless choice: execution, or service. Sent to infiltrate a rebel faction rumored to protect the last living dragon, Kaelin accepts but the deeper she goes, the more she learns that the true monster might sit upon the throne.

As whispers of prophecy stir and a dragon’s heartbeat echoes in her chest, Kaelin’s fire awakens an ancient bond that could either save the world or burn it down.

Torn between a rebellion’s trust, a prince’s obsession, and the inferno rising within, Kaelin must decide what kind of flame she’ll become: weapon, savior, or sovereign.

【If this is your first time opening this book, welcome to Ella's world.

But I must tell you—you've missed something.

Where did the scars on Ella's body come from? Why would Julian do anything to protect her? What exactly happened between Victoria and Kane that drove a woman to the point of no return? And why did Xavier, the man everyone called the "Crimson Flame War God," vanish without a trace when his family needed him most?

The answers to these questions lie in Volumes One and Two.

That's the story of how Ella walked out of Blood River's cage, step by step. It's the story of how Julian chose to believe in love amid the cold calculations of power. It's the story of how Kane tried to find himself again through loss and betrayal. Without those wounds, she wouldn't be who she is now. Without that darkness, you can't understand this light.

The fires of war in Volume Three have already been lit. But if you want to truly understand why these people are willing to die for each other—

**Please go back and start from Captive of the Ice and Flame Wolves.**】
Ella and Julian embark on their honeymoon, arriving at the legendary Free Haven.

Here, there is no Alpha rule, no hierarchy of oppression, yet a mysterious goddess who can prophesy storms guards the life and death of all.

Until the Orta Crown vanishes from the villa overnight.

The one who steals the Crown is Jax, Free Haven's most skilled thief. When he scales into the forbidden Wind Lighthouse with his prize, he witnesses the legendary goddess Celeste tending to whip scars on her body—this city's faith is built upon a girl's blood and tears. A bottle of cheap rum, a bag of fried fish—for the first time, the caged bird tastes what it means to be human.

But the moment the Crown touches Celeste, the dormant emerald suddenly glows—resonating with the earring left by Jax's father.

Years ago, an expedition ship named "The Albatross" salvaged some ancient power from the deep sea, then mysteriously sank in a storm. The captain and first mate, Celeste's father and Jax's father—what exactly did they discover in the depths?

When Blood River warships appear on the horizon, Alpha Louis wields a bone spear carved with runes, Victoria stands at the bow. Of the five elements, he has already mastered one. And Free Haven is merely a piece on his board, waiting to be overturned.

Order sustained by lies will burn in truth. When crown, bone spear, and storm awaken in the same night—some will become gods, some will become ash.

When the shootout broke out and Marco chose to protect Isabella instead of me, I didn't scream or cry hysterically.
Instead, I just stood there silently watching my fiancé carry his mistress to safety.
In the weapons room downstairs, Victor—my fiancé’s head of security—stood behind me teaching me how to fire a gun. His solid chest pressed against my back; warm breath brushed my ear. I let my hips intentionally brush against him — felt that hard ridge that made my face flush and pulse race.
His large hands covered mine on the weapon, then slid unmistakably downward to grip my hips tightly. My nipples hardened under this thin bra; heat pooled low between my legs.
"What happens if I pull this trigger?"
I whispered softly, aiming steadily at Marco and Isabella wrapped in an intimate embrace nearby.
"It'll be quiet," His voice velvet-smooth like lethal temptation slipped through gritted teeth,"Real quiet."
Lost in dangerous thrill,I couldn't help thinking: No wonder people love playing with fire.

Madeline Quinn was supposed to spend the summer tracking whales—not falling for the two rugged, infuriating brothers who run the research boat.

Jake is steady and silent. Reid is sharp and impossible. They’re both off-limits.

And yet… the deeper she goes, the harder it is to come up for air.


“You should’ve stayed on the boat,” Jake said, voice quiet but firm.

“I’m not made of glass,” she snapped.

Reid pushed off the wall with one boot. “No, you’re made of trouble.”

“Reid—” Jake warned without looking at him.

“What?” Reid said with a shrug, moving a step closer. “Look at her. She knows what she’s doing.”

Madeline lifted her chin. “And what exactly am I doing?”

“Turning this into something dangerous,” Reid said, almost too calmly. His eyes didn’t waver.

Jake finally looked at her. “It already is.”

She swallowed. Her pulse thudded in her throat.

“You think I don’t feel it too?”

Reid’s lips twitched like he almost smiled. “Oh, she feels it.”
He stepped closer—just enough to make her catch her breath.
“But I don’t think she knows what to do with it.”

Jake stood now, his movements slower, more deliberate. “That’s enough.”

“No,” Madeline said, softer now. “He’s right. I don’t know what this is. With either of you.”

Reid’s voice dropped. “Then let us show you.”

A long silence. The kind that doesn’t feel empty—just heavy.

Jake’s gaze didn’t waver. “Together.”

Her breath hitched. Rain hit the windows. Her towel slipped an inch lower on her shoulder.

“God help me,” she whispered.

Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother.

"What is wrong with me?

Why does being near him make my skin feel too tight, like I’m wearing a sweater two sizes too small?

It’s just newness, I tell myself firmly.

He’s my boyfirend’s brother.

This is Tyler’s family.

I’m not going to let one cold stare undo that.

**

As a ballet dancer, My life looks perfect—scholarship, starring role, sweet boyfriend Tyler. Until Tyler shows his true colors and his older brother, Asher, comes home.

Asher is a Navy veteran with battle scars and zero patience. He calls me "princess" like it's an insult. I can't stand him.

When My ankle injury forces her to recover at the family lake house, I‘m stuck with both brothers. What starts as mutual hatred slowly turns into something forbidden.

I'm falling for my boyfriend's brother.

**

I hate girls like her.

Entitled.

Delicate.

And still—

Still.

The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.

Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.

I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.

It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.

I’m not here to rescue anyone.

Especially not her.

Especially not someone like her.

She’s not my problem.

And I’ll make damn sure she never becomes one.

But when my eyes fell on her lips, I wanted her to be mine.

【This book is expected to be divided into two parts, comprising four volumes, telling a fantasy story about the struggle for the power of the five primordial elements on the Werewolf Continent. Many strong, resilient, and charismatic characters will appear.

Volume 1: Captive of the Ice and Flame Wolves (Completed)
Volume 2: The Price of Thunder (Completed)
Volume 3: Free Haven (ToIn Be WrittenProgress)
Volume 4: Children of the Earth (To Be Written)

Tip：
Volume 3 will meet readers in early April. At that time, you can search for "Free Haven" within this APP to read the new book.】

"You're just a lowly Omega!"

The moment Kane spoke those words, the last shred of hope in Ella's heart shattered. She had once believed that in the ten-year hell of the Blood River Pack, he was her only light. She had taken whippings for him, cooked his meals, held him close through frozen nights. He had promised to mark her, promised to give her a home. But after returning to the Silver Moon Pack, he married a noble Beta's daughter, poisoned their four-month-old child with wolfsbane, and coldly told her when she begged, "That child should never have come into this world."

When she pressed a glass shard to her own throat in a desperate stand, when she took a silver arrow meant for Alpha heir Julian just for a chance to escape her past, when she wore Luna's gown standing before the cage that once held her—Kane finally panicked.

But she was no longer the Omega who would cry for him.

She would survive, even if it meant becoming a blade in another man's hand.

Boomer’s story is about a boy split into three lives — before, during, and after Penelope Vales. Before her, he was just a kid running from a broken past, enlisting in the army to prove himself and earning his nickname through failure, grit, and loyalty. During her, he fell quietly, painfully, for the girl he could never have, standing beside her boyfriend and forcing himself to swallow what he felt while still protecting her in every way he could. After her, and after things crumbled with Mila, he’s left adrift — no uniform, no love, no clear identity — and has to learn how to rebuild himself piece by piece, to stop defining his worth by battles or by people he couldn’t keep, and finally figure out who he is when all that’s left is him.

Four months pregnant, I was full of joy and wanted to tell my gang-boss boyfriend.
He had sworn that if we had a child, he'd stay away from the underworld, and live a normal life with me.
But when I appeared at his stronghold holding a first aid kit, I was treated as a bitch who wanted to seduce the boss and suffered cruel abuse.
The most ironic thing was that my husband and I were only separated by a wall, but his subordinates told him "another slut is pestering you", making him miss the moment when I needed him most.
When I woke his memory with a lullaby, it was all too late—our child had...
The good news had become a dirge. Having lost everything, I understood a truth:
Real revenge is not taking away life, but making the enemy fall into the abyss when they are happiest.

The day my daughter was declared brain dead, my billionaire wife was busy making soup for her first love, who was suffering from heart failure.
To fund a heart transplant for her first love , she made a phone call and injected our biological daughter with a large dose of nerve-blocking agents, taking her life .
The night before the burial, I begged her like a dog to come and see our daughter off one last time, but she impatiently scolded me on the phone: "Don't bother me with dead people all the time; the dead can't be brought back to life."
Later, on our sixth wedding anniversary, in front of all the wealthy and powerful in New York, she offered me a top-quality frozen fertilized egg as compensation, promising to give me a "new child."
However, when she opened the high-end gift box I gave her with a smile—
there was no so-called "new life" inside, only a completely drained bankruptcy liquidation document for a conglomerate, a waste receipt for the fertilized egg that had been flushed down the drain, and a high-definition video of her first love laughing at her in a club, saying she was "so easy to fool."

I was reborn. My younger brother stole the woman who had lost her leg and was blind, thinking he had seized the throne of the apocalypse.
He didn't know that her power in her past life stemmed from the pendant on my chest—which contained a fountain of life.
This time, I'm not a savior. I'm handing the spring over to the nation.
The Pentagon has given me a new designation: National Assets.
While the younger brother was being beaten up by his neighbor for a half-empty can of cola, the National Guard's superhumans had already begun clearing out the infected.
He called, his voice hoarse: "Her superpower is only enough to chill a glass of cola... You tricked me?"
I hung up the phone and went into the lab.
"What's the extraction rate of the spiritual spring water today?"

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

My fiancée and best friend, whom I risked my life to protect, sold me to the brutal "Blood Blade Gang . "
They laughed as they watched me being kicked into a pool of radioactive waste like a dog, waiting for me to turn into a pile of bones.
But they didn't know that the deadly radiation not only failed to melt me, but also forcibly ruptured my genetic lock, awakening the [Nuclear Fury].
I rode back to the old camp in her heavily armored vehicle.
Those two scoundrels were still arrogantly bullying me: "I have the Blood Blade Gang backing me! The big shots are coming soon, you're dead!"
I sneered and slapped them away.
Idiots, look back! Your so-called powerful backer is kneeling in the vehicle, lighting my cigarette.

They all thought I was just a rogue soldier who had crawled back from the border, covered in gunpowder and looking for revenge for my family's old debts.
Everyone was guessing which building I would blow up next. Julian, as I expected, panicked.
He recalled all his elite personnel to the Vientiane Building, activated top-level security, practically turning the entire office building into an impenetrable fortress, and sealed off assets globally to prevent my "illegal theft."
But he made a mistake.
When he personally pressed the reset lock, attempting to regain control of the system through manual verification, he didn't hear the prompt of command execution, but rather the hydraulic hum emanating from the building's load-bearing walls—it was the "self-destruct program" he had personally signed, running as scheduled under the guise of my privileges.

In my previous life, I was the government-appointed hero of the apocalypse, dying on the frozen plains after the spotlight dimmed, feeding their glorious honor with my very life.
In this life, I tore up the script and rejected that performance they called "saving the world." When the so-called "hero" stands on the command deck once again, I am deep in the dark underground, clutching a scoreboard with my frostbitten hands—
After all, heroes are offerings reserved for history books; I, however, only want to ensure that this group of abandoned souls can survive through tonight.

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

I thought I was the luckiest person in the apocalypse.
My brother, a former special forces soldier, brought me supplies so I wouldn't have to face the horrors above ground.
My girlfriend comforted me over the radio, saying she'd cry in my arms once we could finally get out.
I lived underground for three years, grateful like a domesticated dog.
Until that day, when I pushed open the door, smelled fresh grass, and saw the swimming pool in the sunlight—that's when I understood that the so-called apocalypse was never outside, but behind the door they had locked me in.

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

To fulfill a dying comrade's final request, I spent twelve years living in the shadows to protect his daughter. I took bullets for her, laundered her black-market assets, and eventually handed over my entire stake in the security empire. In her eyes, I am her father’s murderer; in mine, she is a mission—the only flicker of light left in my life. Until that fateful banquet, when she personally shoved me into the sights of mercenaries. Watching my blood bloom across her dress, she hooked her arm around my nemesis and ordered coldly, "Clean it up." In that moment, twelve years of devotion collapsed, and a heart that beat only for her finally learned to freeze. This time, I’ve decided to personally destroy the monster I raised.

The global freeze descended, and the apocalypse arrived right on cue. I seized all the critical supplies and evacuated first, leaving "the perfect base" behind for the two traitors who backstabbed me. They thought it was heaven, but little did they know that the entire fortress was a precision trap constructed of deception, scarcity, and despair. As the outdoor temperature plummeted to minus eighty degrees, I sat by the window, roasting venison and watching them through high-definition infrared, coldly observing as they lost their humanity in the desperate fight for a single bowl of sawdust.

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

On our wedding day, she vanished wearing the gown I had bought for her.
I didn’t chase her. Instead, I went back to the operating table.
For three years, I had paid off her debts and filled the holes she left behind—enough for her to live a second life. My heart couldn't take it anymore; I had a stent implanted, though she never knew.
Three days later, I died in the hospital corridor. My ECG flatlined.
She didn’t know. She was still at a cocktail party in another city, clinking glasses with someone else.
A month later, she came back, kneeling before my tombstone in tears.
But it was all too late.

In this apocalyptic world of extreme heat, I fight for water in the underground black market, and I risk my life to hoard supplies.
My internet-famous roommate enjoyed my efforts while hiding in the air-conditioned room, panting softly in front of three fill lights: "We need to slow down and reconcile with nature."
Later, she stole my supplies and sold them to drug lords, causing me to be roasted alive on the riverbed.
After being reborn, I turned and left.
"Don't you like a slow-paced life? Stay here and enjoy it."
The end times have only just begun.

Betrayed by my wife on the eve of the apocalypse, they stole the shelter keys and locked me in the heart of the zombie outbreak to die.
I felt no anger.
Three minutes to blast open the blast door, ten minutes to drain the billions from that despicable couple's overseas accounts,
and then I'd buy machine guns and artillery from the black market! The couple speeding down the highway had no idea that the "top-secret key" they were protecting was actually a bomb designed to detonate the defense system.
The real wasteland survival game had only just begun.

For three whole years, as the "partner" of the bourgeois empress Victoria, I remained the most docile shadow of her business empire. Everyone thought I was a beautifully kept ornament, but only I knew that beneath this glittering facade, every shadow was a chaotic situation I had quelled with my own blood and flesh. It wasn't
until she used her daughter's final resting place as leverage to appease her lover that I realized that marriage was nothing more than a deceptive hunt.
Now, I'm going to recoup the costs.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.