7920 Book(s) Related to the day he came back

I'm two months pregnant with Tristan's baby when Brielle, the woman he'd do anything for, shoves me down the stairs.

She calls it an accident. I lose the baby.

I beg my husband to do something about it. Instead, he shields her and turns it around on me.

"Brielle saved my life in that fire. The whole Merrick family owes her. So drop it."

That debt. Always that debt.

Three years. No matter how many times Brielle humiliates me, degrades me, Tristan only ever has one answer: "I owe her my life."

But the truth about that fire? I'm the only one in the world who knows it.

I tried to tell him once. He laughed in my face. "Adeline, you're so desperate for attention you'd make up something like that?"

So I shut my mouth. Buried the truth. Buried whatever was left of my heart along with it.

The man I trusted with my life just handed my child to the woman who killed them, and called it loyalty.

I'm done.

I pull up the number I blocked three years ago and hit call.

"Dad. I'll take over the company. I'll go through with the engagement to Everett. But I have one condition. I want Tristan and Brielle ruined beyond recovery. Nothing and no one left."

The day I came home carrying the Royal Pack's highest honor, the one that names its strongest warrior, I pictured Irene's proud smile waiting for me, and Chase's arms wrapping around me.

Then I cross into Crescent Moon Pack territory and the smell hits me. Blood, thick enough to make me gag.

I claw through the scorched wreckage like something possessed, not even noticing my nails tearing, blood running down my fingers.

And then I find her. Irene, the one person who'd ever shown me real kindness, lying in the ash. Not breathing. Gone.

Three scents linger in the air, all of them familiar: Garrett. Ivy. And Chase.

I follow the scent to the lakeside lodge, and that's when I hear Chase, his voice dripping with that same gentle warmth I used to love. "Who cares about Irene, as long as you're happy."

Something in my head just snaps.

"Traitors don't get to live."

Tonight, they're all going to join Irene in death.

Intro: I spent three years as a logistics mage in the Darkmoon Pack, chasing the wolf clan's female war goddess for a full year. I repaired her armor, mixed her potions, and secretly tucked protective charms inside her gear. She never once looked me in the eye. At the bonfire banquet, after enduring humiliation, I took the initiative to sever ties and walked away. Without my help, she lost everything. When I was reborn and returned, facing the one and only chance to win me back, she finally chose to make the first move.

The craziest thing I've ever done? Agreeing to Mason's idea—sex in the middle of nowhere.
But then his first love called, and he left me stranded out there. Alone. In the dead of night.

In seven years of marriage, I miscarried five times. I nearly died on the operating table.

My husband, Lorenzo Castellano—the mafia king who controlled the entire East Coast—gripped my blood-stained hand and choked out: "It's okay. You're all I need."

I believed him.

Until our anniversary, when I smelled her perfume on his shirt and discovered the truth: his sister-in-law had given him a three-year-old son—those same deep brown eyes I'd bled five times trying to create.

The cruel irony? Just the day before, two pink lines had appeared on a pregnancy test.

That night, the explosion lit up the entire ocean, our private yacht burning like a funeral pyre.

The man who made all of New York's underworld tremble finally learned what it meant to lose.

He lost his wife.

And the child he would never know existed.

"Sign it or go to jail."
"I'm done with this marriage. I already got what I wanted, so you're no longer needed."
Dale Beldson said it calmly, without guilt, as if ending our marriage meant nothing.
In that moment, Chloe Dave finally understood the truth. To him, she had never been important.
With tears in her eyes, she signed the divorce papers and walked away from the life she once fought so hard to keep.
She left his house, his family, and the illusion of love behind.
But she made herself a promise. One day, she would come back stronger. She would become someone no one could ignore again.
Chloe once believed marrying Dale was the happiest moment of her life. He was powerful, admired, and the man she had loved for years.
That belief did not last.
Her marriage turned cold, her husband distant, and his family never accepted her. Still, she held on, hoping there was at least a small place for her in his heart.
Everything fell apart when she was framed by Nora, his closest friend. She was accused of crimes she did not commit, yet Dale chose to believe another woman over his own wife.
That was when Chloe stopped hoping.
When she returns, she will not be the same woman he cast aside.
And this time, she will be the one walking away while he watches.

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

Nora Vale inherits three million dollars and a ruined seaside motel from an aunt her family called impossible.

She tells no one. Not even Rowan, her exhausted mechanic husband, who has spent years letting his family drain him dry.

Instead, Nora tells one dangerous lie: her design studio has collapsed, and she has lost everything.

Rowan does not blame her. He does not leave. He takes her hand and says, "Then we rebuild. You and me."

But the inheritance is not just money. Harbor Mile Motel hides records of a predatory company buying coastal properties through debt, fear, and family pressure. Rowan's brother is involved. Nora's aunt may not have died as quietly as everyone believed.

Now Nora must learn that money can buy time, repairs, and lawyers, but it cannot buy trust. And Rowan must decide whether the woman who lied to test his love is still the woman he wants to build a future with.

Tessa gave up everything for her husband—her career, her family, her dignity—only to be discarded when his past walked back into his life.
Broken, she signs the divorce papers and leaves.

Years later, she returns as a woman the world kneels before and Smith realizes too late that the wife he broke has become the reckoning he cannot escape.

She's back powerful, untouchable, and unforgiving.

This time, she isn’t asking for love.
She’s collecting debts.

The day I died, my sister wore the wedding dress I had always dreamed of, and married my boyfriend.
My family felt no sorrow over my disappearance.
My brother suspected I deliberately avoided blessing my sister.
My silent father believed I was malicious, unwilling to see my sister surpass me.
My mother called me ungrateful and demanded I apologize to my sister.
They didn't care if I was alive.
They were only worried that my absence would sadden my sister by denying her my blessing.

Three years into our loveless marriage:

"Julian... what would you do if I got pregnant?" I asked, clinging to a foolish hope.

He thrust hard, his release hot between my thighs.

"You? Bear my heir?" His laugh was ice-cold. "A maid's daughter could never be worthy of Sterling blood."


I'm Elena—the maid's daughter who dared to love Julian Sterling.

He's the ruthless heir who married me for revenge.

"You're nothing but a gold-digging whore,"* he whispered. *"Did you really think I'd ever love someone like you?”

He used me. Broke me. Made me beg for scraps while he paraded his first love through our home.

That night, I stood on the bridge, staring at the dark water below.

I'd lost everything. My mother. My dignity. My will to fight.


Five years later, in a crowded shopping mall:

My daughter tugs at a stranger's sleeve.

"Mister, will you help me find my mommy? I got lost."

The man freezes, staring down at her.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" His voice sounds broken.

"Lila! What's yours, uncle?"

"Julian."

Minutes later, he's walking toward me with my daughter's hand in his, his face drained of all color.

"Elena."

My name on his lips sounds like agony.

Before I can respond, he's crossed the distance between us. His arms wrap around me with desperate strength.

"God, you're alive. I thought—" His voice cracks. "I'm so sorry—"

He leans down, his lips seeking mine.

My hand moves on instinct.

The slap echoes through the mall.

"Excuse me?" I step back, ice-cold, pulling Lila behind me. "Please control yourself, sir. Do we even know each other?"

Caroline Mercer once believed kindness could be proven by sacrifice. She took in two orphaned children, gave them schools, doctors, tutors, rooms beside her daughter's nursery, and a path into the Mercer name.

Years later, those children returned as witnesses against her. Sloane Vale smiled for the cameras while calling Caroline a monster. Nolan Vale handed federal investigators a beautiful stack of forged evidence. Caroline's husband was broken, her company was seized, and her only daughter, Evelyn, died after being traded into a marriage meant to protect everyone else's reputation.

Then Caroline opened her eyes on the morning the Vale children first arrived at her door.

This time, she would feed them. She would house them. She would educate them. She would keep every receipt, every doctor's report, every legal notice.

But she would never again give strangers the keys to her child's future.

Blake's keeping me locked up in a villa outside the city, with a dozen bodyguards watching me around the clock. They won't let me step foot outside my room.

He once promised Vanessa, the woman he never got over, that he'd give her company shares and his estate. Now she's back after her divorce, pregnant, crying to Blake that I threatened her, told her to give up what he promised, and that I wanted to hurt her and her baby.

Blake believed her.

He's convinced I'm evil and gold-digging. He locked me up here while he stays at the hospital, never leaving Vanessa's side.

I'm going into sudden labor, crying and begging him to let me go to a hospital. I swear I never wanted those things, never hurt her.

Blake just sneers. "You're such a liar. I don't believe a single word from someone as vicious as you. After Vanessa delivers, I'll get you a doctor. Stop trying to fool me."

But when he finally sees my body, he completely falls apart.

I spent ten years following Ashton around like it was my job. He said jump, I jumped. He said he was hungry, I went and made him a sandwich. His homework, his fights, his messes — I handled all of it. I thought that's what being close to someone meant.
Then at the fall pep rally, in front of two thousand people, he strapped me to a platform, blasted me with paint, and let his girlfriend laugh at me through a megaphone.
I was the punchline. I threw up on camera. The video went viral before I even hit the ground.
So I did the one thing nobody expected — I vanished. New school, new city, new number. Every trace of him, gone.
I thought that was the end of it.
But Ashton doesn't let go of what he thinks is his. And what he's willing to do to drag me back? I wasn't even close to ready for that.

At seventy-two, Richard Hayes finally asked my mother for a divorce.

He thought he was setting himself free.

He did not know Eleanor Hayes had been waiting ten years for him to say the words.

By sunset, his new woman would be calling my mother cruel.

By winter, he would be standing on her porch with two suitcases and nowhere soft to land.

And my mother, who had spent nearly half a century opening doors for him, would finally learn how peaceful a locked door could sound.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

"You were just a tool, Imogene."
Her heart stopped. "And I was foolish enough to believe you cared."
Imogene Scott had always known her place—by Damien Shaw’s side, even when his love was a distant dream. Marrying her only because of an unexpected pregnancy, Damien’s affection never blossomed. Instead, her devotion turned him from a mere sales manager into the billionaire CEO of IMU, one of Europe’s most powerful tech empires. But her sacrifices weren’t enough. After losing their baby, Damien’s coldness deepened, sealing their marriage with an unspoken “no meddling” rule.
Imogene’s reward? Watching Damien parade countless mistresses, all while she buried her own dreams to fuel his. She believed, naively, that one day he’d see her worth. But when he fell in love with her stepsister and served her with divorce papers, Imogene’s world shattered. Realizing she was nothing more than a pawn in Damien’s game, she vanished—pregnant and determined to protect her unborn child.
Three years later, Imogene returns, not as the broken woman who fled but as a renowned artist and mother to their two-year-old daughter. Now, Damien realizes what he’s lost and wants her back. But this time, Imogene is ready to fight, and she’s not making the same mistake twice.

Seventy-two hours before my wedding, I stood in front of the fitting mirror at a bridal shop.

My best friend sent me a social media post, and the red exclamation mark in the message box stung my eyes sharply.

The post’s title read: Guys, my boyfriend is getting married to his current partner. What should I do?

The comment section had already erupted into chaos.
“Dude, are you out of your mind? You’re the other woman here!”
“You’re the homewrecker and you dare post this to get roasted? Where’s your shame?”

The poster was firing back furiously, every word oozing unapologetic madness:
“We’ve been inseparable since we were kids! His first love, first kiss, first time—all mine!”
“He doesn’t even like that old hag; he’s only marrying her out of obligation!”
“Who’s the real mistress, anyway?”

I should have swiped past it like a silly joke, but my gaze was locked onto the poster’s profile picture.

It showed two hands laced together. Peeking out from the man’s wrist was a dark green watch dial—a Richard Mille Valentine’s Day limited edition. It was the seven-figure engagement gift I’d bought him by selling my mother’s last precious heirloom, the only one of its kind in the world.

My heart was squeezed tight by an icy hand, plummeting to the bottom in an instant.

I tapped into the account’s homepage. The second my finger swiped open the photo album, a dizzying, world-spinning sensation crashed over me.

In the photos, the man holding the girl closely was none other than Lu Yanchen—my fiancé, who was supposed to marry me in three days.

I stared at the screen. All the wedding hopes and love I’d saved up over three years shattered into nothing but dust at this moment.

I couldn’t believe it, yet I had to. The man who’d loved me for three years and sworn to protect me forever had been lying to me from start to finish.

I screamed as I burned to death while Julian ran past me to save Emma.

His first love. The girl he'd never let go of.

Eight years I spent being the understanding fiancée. The one who smiled through her endless crises. The one who died alone because he chose her panic over my screams.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Julian was leaning in, voice low—we needed to pause the ceremony. Emma was having a panic attack at the airport.

Last time, I'd said yes.

Not this time.

I looked at the man I'd died for and smiled.

Then I threw my bouquet at his face.

I turned and walked straight to the man who made Wall Street sweat. Julian's worst enemy.

Victor Kane.

"Go save her," I said. "I need a new groom."

As a regular student, I never expected to fit into the world of trust fund kids. But this real estate heiress reached out to me, said she'd show me how the other half lives, even promised to introduce me to New England's most powerful heir.

I thought she'd be my friend. Thought she actually cared. I even fell for him.

Until she framed me for stealing confidential school files. Until he said, "Just a scholarship kid. No one's gonna miss her." That's when I understood. I was never more than their toy.

They tore up my textbooks, stuffed dead rats in my locker, spent six months tormenting me online and off. My mother couldn't take the vicious comments. Her heart gave out. And me? After I completely broke down, they drove me to the coastal cliffs.

Ice-cold water flooded my nose and mouth. Suffocation dragged me down into despair. I hate myself for being weak. Hate them for their arrogance. Hate this rotten system that treats people like me as disposable.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night she pushed me toward him.

This time, I won't be fooled.

For six years, I was her driver, her errand boy, and her servant.
On the night of her engagement, she said, "He's just my driver."
Her fiancé ruined my company.
I sold my shares, changed my phone number, and bought a one-way ticket.
She chased me to the airport and asked me why.
I said, "Because I don't want to,"
"Waiting for someone who will never look back at me."

“Marry me, and I’ll help you destroy everyone who hurt you,” he said in a deep voice, sending chills down my spine.

Betrayed by her husband and best friend, stripped of the life she worked so hard to protect, and left for dead, Elaine Ferguson wakes up to a world turned against her.

Enter Zayn Von Richter, a ruthless and devastatingly powerful billionaire who offers her a chance at revenge on the condition that she marries him for a year.

But Zayn may not be who he appears to be, and as their connection intensifies, the lines between pretence and reality begin to fade, threatening to unravel everything Elaine has fought to reclaim.

The moment I saw my name on that wedding invitation, I was already dead.

On Highway 23, a steel rebar had pierced straight through my chest. I was two months pregnant.

I called my fiancé Michael seventeen times. The first sixteen, he hung up without a word. On the seventeenth, his voice dripped with impatience: "Marrying Sophia is just for show. Stop making a scene."

The man who once knelt outside my family's estate for three days and nights, swearing to love me for a lifetime—he wouldn't spare me a single second more.

With my last breath, I dialed the funeral home. "I'm calling... for myself."

Flames consumed my body. My soul drifted toward the engagement banquet that should have been mine. When the killer's phone lit up, the name on the screen was Sophia...

When he destroyed my entire family, he never once thought of me.

So now, let me watch with my own eyes as this wedding becomes their funeral.

Ryan loves me deeply—at least that's what everyone says. Seven years together, we look like the perfect couple to outsiders. But only I know he's betrayed me three times.

The first time was three years ago. His brother died saving him, leaving behind his widow Sophia—Ryan's unforgettable first love. He married her behind my back. When I found out, I completely fell apart. I have dignity. I refuse to be the other woman. I wanted to leave, but he begged on his knees. "This is just to take care of my sister-in-law. Once I find the truth about my brother's death, I'll divorce her. Then we can get married."

I believed him. I forgot that a man never lets go of a lost love he's gotten back.

The second time was at last year's company anniversary. In front of everyone, he introduced Sophia as his wife. I watched them on stage, a knife through my heart. That night he explained, "It's just for show. Once everything's over, we can be together."

I believed him again.

The third time was two weeks ago. Surveillance footage showed Ryan with Sophia entering a hotel room. I rushed to confront him, but heard her voice outside his office. "Ryan, I'm pregnant. It's your baby."

Through the crack in the door, I see him hesitate. In that instant I understand.

He's going to keep her.

He spots me and rushes out in a panic. "It was an accident! Let me explain! After she has the baby, I'll give her money and make her leave. She won't be in our lives anymore!"

In that moment, I finally wake up. There will be no future for us.

As a housewife, I never forgot a single milestone: every wedding anniversary, my husband’s 7th career anniversary, and the birthdays of my husband and daughter. Yet, my own birthday was always ignored. Both my husband and daughter only cared about that outsider woman. Finally, one day, I chose to walk away and revive my vintage shop business. Now... they are the ones filled with regret.

Eight years ago, I was the heir to a powerful dynasty—the man set to inherit an empire.

On the way home from a business deal, our convoy was ambushed and I was taken. My fiancée arrived with the ransom, and the kidnappers gave her a choice: save one man. She saved my closest friend—and left me bleeding in the ruins.

They thought I was dead. They went on camera, announced my “tragic death,” took my company, split my legacy, and lived on my name for eight long years.

But I didn’t die. A gray-zone mercenary unit pulled me out of a pile of bodies. I changed my name and climbed from the bottom of their world—training, bleeding, killing, leading—until I became one of their commanders.

Today, my fiancée is marrying my best friend. The invitation arrived with my name on it. I board a first-class flight under a new identity and head straight for their wedding.

Halfway through the ceremony, the priest asks if anyone objects.

I stand up. “I object.”

I didn’t come back to give my blessing. I came back to collect.

"I quit." I slammed the words onto the table like a verdict.
From my purse, I pulled out the papers I had carried for weeks, the ones I had drafted in the dead of night while he was in her bed, and slapped them in front of him.
DIVORCE.
Serena Vaughn had been invisible for too long, the discarded wife of Damien Blackwood, a billionaire who saw her as nothing more than a trophy. But when humiliation became unbearable, she walked away, ignoring the world's bets that she would crawl back.
Months later, Serena returns, but she is no longer the woman he dismissed. Now the CEO of a revolutionary tech empire, her brilliance commands respect, admiration and desire. Society that mocked her now fights for her attention: a Nobel-winning scientist, a Wall Street titan, even Hollywood's hottest star, all vying to be the man in her life.
But Damien is not ready to let go. When he confronts her, demanding to know if her child is his, Serena's icy reply cuts him deeper than any words ever could. "That's none of your business, ex-husband. Step aside."
The game has begun. Old enemies circle like vultures, but Serena is no longer prey. One by one, they fall under her power, until only one question remains: how far will a broken man go when the woman he discarded becomes the queen of his ruin?

For five years, I had turned Preston Tanner from a broke kid who could barely afford tuition into one of Silicon Valley's hottest young founders.
I thought we would do exactly what we had promised back in that garage—take our AI healthcare startup public, ring the opening bell together, and get married.
Until today.
At the product launch that would determine whether we landed our Series A, Preston stood before the press and credited the core algorithm patent I had spent seventy-two sleepless hours developing to a girl who couldn't even write Python.
"Sloane, you're already my fiancée," he said. "Willow needs this patent to strengthen her green-card application."
Staring at his utterly self-righteous face, I felt sick.
I didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, he had rotted from the inside out.
And if he was rotten, it was time to throw him away.

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

Twenty-one times.

I've signed the mate bond with Kael Nightshade, Lord of the Black Panther Clan, twenty-one times.

And dissolved it twenty-one times.

Not because we didn't love each other.

But because every few months, she comes back.

Seraphine. His first love. The angel who shattered her wings saving him, leaving her mind fractured and fragile.

"Seeing the mate mark sends her into psychotic breaks," he'd say, burning the bond from my skin. "I owe her my life."

So I'd erase the mark. Burn the contract. Pretend we were never bound.

The first time, I cried and begged. He backhanded me: "Cut the bullshit. We'll rebond once she's back in the sanatorium."

The thirteenth time, I followed them to a tavern and watched him tenderly kiss the scarred stumps where her wings used to be. When I confronted them, he knocked me down and locked me in enchanted restraints for seven days straight.

Sign. Burn. Erase. An endless cycle I couldn't escape.

Until the twenty-first time.

Fire engulfed the manor. Seraphine and I were trapped in different wings. Kael could only save one of us.

"Kael!" I collapsed at the window, smoke choking my lungs. "I'm pregnant—please—"

He shifted into his panther form and bolted toward her room.

The guards dragged me out thirty minutes later. Third-degree burns across my back, lungs filled with ash, blood pooling beneath me.

No heartbeat.

Kael stood in the safe zone, holding an unscathed Seraphine in his arms. From the moment the flames erupted until they pulled me from the rubble, he never looked back.

Not once.

The twenty-first dissolution was my choice.

There won't be a twenty-second.

Seven years ago I gave up my inheritance and went door to door with Nolan—a broke director shooting street documentaries—my belly out to here, begging investors to take a chance on him.

Everyone said I'd thrown my life away on him.

Seven years later he's a name everyone knows. And Emily, the first love who walked out when he had nothing, is back in Chicago with her daughter.

That afternoon I came home early and heard him pull five-year-old Ivy into his arms: "You can't ever tell Mom that Daddy and Emily are having a fake wedding."

"But Daddy, Mom will be so sad..."

"Say one word and Daddy won't love you anymore. Got it?"

Her little shoulders shook as she nodded, and nodded.

Out in the hallway, I couldn't even be bothered to cry.

I dialed the number I'd kept blocked for seven years. "Dad—can the family plane still come get me and Ivy?"

Nolan, what you lost wasn't a housewife you could push around. You threw away the only person who ever made you her whole world.

After the wedding, my husband moved his dead fiancée's mother into our guest room. The whole town called it the kindest thing they'd ever seen.
Every morning, Dione made me a green smoothie. Her grandmother's recipe, she said. Good for the nerves.
I never drank a single one. I poured them all into the chicken feed.
In my last life, I drank them. One a day, for thirty days.
Then I started losing time. I would blink at breakfast and come back at dinner. I found notes in my own handwriting that I never wrote.
I begged Julian to take me to a doctor. He held my shoulders and smiled. "You're just tired, baby. Drink your smoothie."
On the thirtieth night, I fell asleep in my own bed, in my own body.
I never woke up. Someone else did.
This time, every glass went to Nugget, the smallest of my backyard hens.
And one night, a hen crowed in my backyard.
Hens don't crow. And we don't have a rooster.

I was the underworld’s deadliest assassin — until my most trusted man hired hitmen and blew me up, using the parents I’d never found as bait.
I wake as Serena Sterling, nineteen, the long-lost daughter my wealthy birth parents just brought home. My siblings sneer, my classmates write me off, but my parents cherish me. So I play soft, harmless, and hide every lethal skill I own. All while hunting the traitor who killed me.
The mask slips fast. Racing, fighting, wilderness survival, half a dozen languages — my true strength bleeds through. In the shadows, I rebuild my old intelligence network.
That’s when Erebus finds me.
Ruler of Obsidian, the global assassination syndicate. The only man on the kill list who could ever go toe-to-toe with me in my last life.
He’s everywhere. Loitering by the school gates. Appearing at galas. Standing outside my bedroom window at night.
I came back for a quiet life. For the truth.
But Erebus won’t let me go. Caught between gilded high society and the brutal killer world I once ruled — will I even survive this time?

For five years of secret marriage to Sebastian Hawthorne—one of New York's most powerful attorneys—he still refused to let our son Quinn call him "Daddy" in public.
At the firm, I was his on-call senior associate, the invisible workhorse cleaning up his messes and handling his impossible cases. At home, I was the single mother who stopped waiting up for a husband who never came home for dinner.
Everyone knew the new intern, Delilah Vance, was his favorite—a federal judge's daughter, his hand-picked "rising star."
I used to believe that if I worked hard enough, if Quinn behaved perfectly, the heart beneath all that arrogance would eventually soften.
Until that rainy night when he threw his wife of five years and their son out of their own home to comfort Delilah over some fabricated stalker scare.
And while Quinn collapsed in my arms, gasping through a severe allergic reaction, Sebastian was raising champagne with that woman at an impossible-to-book French restaurant, celebrating her win in a pointless mock trial.
Watching my son's pale face and the hope slowly dying in his eyes, five years of one-sided devotion finally reached its verdict.
The case is closed, Sebastian. I'm done.

To save my wife’s family, I buried my name, wore myself down, and let a few strands of my hair turn gray while caring for her on the edge of death.

Three years later, she slipped into custom Chanel and slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me.

With her arm wrapped around a so-called old-money heir from Wall Street, she mocked me as a worthless nobody who couldn’t even afford a luxury handbag, a bottom-feeder who was never fit to stand beside her.

I signed my name without a word and watched her leave in triumph.

What she didn’t know was that the man preaching investments was nothing more than a Ponzi fraudster facing multiple charges.

And when the conference room door closed, Manhattan’s most feared ice-cold attorney bowed to me at a perfect ninety degrees and welcomed me to unlock the seventy-billion-dollar trust fund and take back control of the entire conglomerate.

A few months later, inside a women’s maximum-security prison in Brooklyn, she was dressed in a filthy, tattered prison uniform, sprawled across a floor slick with dirty water, sobbing as she was beaten and begging for my forgiveness.

I simply lifted my whiskey and calmly switched off the surveillance feed.

The second the avalanche came down, I called my mate. Karl. Captain of the Pack Guard's First Squad.

He dug me out, carried me onto the helicopter, and told the pilot to take off before the second rescue team even got there.

He didn't know Delilah was buried in the same slide. The girl he'd never gotten over.

By the time they reached her, she'd been under the snow for three hours in twenty below.

Karl stood in the morgue all night.

He came back the next day and just gave me a small smile. "It wasn't your fault. You were carrying our pup. Of course you came first."

For a month after that, he was gentler than he'd ever been. He cleared his schedule to take me to every checkup. Cooked for me himself. Put the crib together, the dresser too. Every single thing in the nursery lined up exactly right.

I thought that avalanche had finally buried Delilah. That it had given him back to me.

Until the day I went into labor.

He sent every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room. There was a silver scalpel in his hand.

The moment he cut me open, I saw the red in his eyes.

Our pup was still crying, small and weak, and he never even looked. He threw us both into the incinerator.

"If it weren't for you, Delilah would still be alive. Your life for hers."

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back at the moment the avalanche hit.

After I found out about the secret admirer he’s been talking to for the past two months the, he throws divorce papers at my face after being married for six months. He claims that his admirer would give him half of the Williamson cooperation. He thinks I’m the naive middle class woman he married but what he doesn’t know is I’m the owner of the Williamson Cooperation, the company I inherited from my father’s as his only child just before he died. Throws out of the house, I decided to reclaim my power and move back to my estate. I hosted a convention where the secret admirer would be handing him the properties and I put everyone in shock when I show up and they find out it’s me. Richard begs at my feet for mercy but I totally ignore him and choose his personal assistant who has always been good to me from the very day I stepped into Richard’s mansion as his wife

"You have two months to live." The doctor's death sentence was still ringing in my ears when I found the receipt in his pocket.

[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]

3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.

I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.

"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.

I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.

I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.

"I bought you for three years, Spring. That means 1,095 days. Your body, your soul, and every breath you take belong to me."
To the world, Spring Willow is the luckiest woman alive, married to August Harrington, the billionaire who rules the city.
But to August, she is the woman who killed the only person he ever loved. A murderer dressed in silk. A reminder of the loss he can never forget.
Their marriage is nothing but a contract. Three hundred thousand dollars a month to save her grandmother's life. One hundred rules to remind her she is his possession, not his wife. And the one rule that matters most: never expect his heart.
Spring thought she could endure his hatred. She never expected his cruelty to turn into a dangerous obsession that would bind him to her long after their contract ended.
Then Ashford appears from the shadows, offering what August never has: a choice.
The contract began with revenge and pain, but the truth will decide how it ends. When hatred turns into obsession and possession starts to feel like love, who will Spring choose? The man who owns her, or the man willing to steal her away? Or will she finally choose herself?

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

In her past life, Arabella Oberon was the lowest-ranking member of the Oberon family.

She genuinely took in Regina, the butler's daughter, only to be constantly manipulated by this cunning and manipulative woman.

Regina gradually stole the love from her three brothers.

Arabella was forced to give Regina blood transfusions time and again, her weight plummeting to a mere eighty-eight pounds.

Ultimately, under the relentless pressure from her brothers, she jumped out of a window in despair and died. Her last words were,

"What about Regina's blood transfusions?"

When she opened her eyes again, Arabella found herself reborn three years earlier—the very day Regina appeared at her doorstep crying, begging for help.

Looking at the pitiful, tearful girl before her, Arabella smiled.

No more soft-heartedness.

No more groveling.

Instead, she "kindly" arranged for Regina to move into the servants' quarters, to earn her own living through honest labor.

Faced with her brothers who sided with her, she no longer bothered to please them.

And towards her former fiancé, Theodore, whom she had once fawned over, she remained cold, distant, and indifferent.

Moreover, in this life, they would discover that her identity was far more than just the eldest daughter of the Oberon family.

She came at midnight… and destroyed everything.
Sienna Blackwood had it all — a powerful empire, a loving husband, and the control she fought so hard to earn. Until she arrived. A fragile girl with haunted eyes and a story that didn’t quite add up.
Sienna welcomed her in. Protected her. Trusted her.
But trust can be fatal.
When secrets unravel and loyalties twist, Sienna finds herself broken, betrayed, and stripped of everything she built. As her world crumbles, a darker truth emerges — Midnight marked the beginning of the end.

My husband locked our fouryearold son in a 20°C wine cellar for his mistress. Our boy froze to death.
Lawyers silenced me. I was cast aside.
Three years later, I returned.
At a glittering New York gala, I tore apart every lie Liam and Mia had built. Liam begged for my forgiveness—but I had a solid anchor by my side, and I would never forgive him.

Losing the memory of who you were growing up sucks. Trying to find a job after graduating college in a bad economy sucks even more.
For Esmeralda Griffin, being offered a job as a secretary to the CEO of the biggest company in the continent is a once in a lifetime opportunity she's going to grab with both hands even if she has never heard nothing good about him.
When the CEO turns out to be a man she has been previously seeing a younger version of in her dreams, she is confused. When he starts to claim that she's his lost fiance, things get crazy.
For the heir to the stone empire, life has no meaning since he failed in protecting his one and only love. Work, one night stands and alcohol define his very existence but when his new assistant Esmeralda comes into the picture, a new hope sets in.
Could she be the one he has been searching for for years?

"Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the game.”

I close my eyes; I am enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.
The sound of my voice echoing across the fields. Then I open my eyes; I am scared out of my mind by someone standing over me.

"Where did you come from?! You should not creep up on people!"

"I can ask you the same thing, what the hell are you doing out here?" His eyes run over my body, and I can see amusement build in his smile. "I never thought I would see the day that I find a clearly lost woman in a wedding dress in the back seat of a car singing to Britney Spears."

Tyler Moore is the Sheriff of a small town far out from the city. With a body that is carved to perfection, this soft-spoken man should not be underestimated. Even though he is elegant and yet powerful, there is far more than lives underneath the façade that he brings.

Jenna Davis, a girl that decides to leave her husband at the altar, runs away to the small little town where Tyler lives. She gets stuck on the side of the road in nothing but an empty tank, a wedding dress, and singing to Britney Spears.

Tyler is the one that finds the poor damsel on the side of the road. Even though he finds her situation amusing, he is immediately captivated by her. She pushes him to his limits and brings the danger that he craves, that he desires.

The two soon send off on a whirlwind relationship, but there is one thing that Tyler refuses to give…his heart.

Will Jenna ultimately win his heart?

My name is Jack Morris, a bottom-rung janitor on the docks.
Every day, people walk all over me, and I live on moldy bread.
Until one day, an old man I saved handed me a photograph. "This is my granddaughter. She's being held at the Black Swan Casino."
That used to be my place. Ten years ago.
Her father was a brother who died in my place.
I was once the king of the underground.
And now, at the banquet celebrating the tenth anniversary of my death, they're treating that old man's granddaughter like a toy.
If my disappearance only made those animals more brazen...
Then they can finish that drink and celebrate their own deaths next.