524 Book(s) Related to HIS

My worthless husband murdered me in cold blood, along with our six-month-old unborn child.

Reborn at my own mating ceremony, I boldly rejected the weakling ex who couldn't even complete his wolf transformation, and shocked everyone by proposing to his powerful Alpha father!

"Alpha Dominic, make me your Luna! I'll give the Storm Pack the true Alpha heirs they deserve!"

The entire pack was stunned—a lowly Omega from nowhere just shattered centuries of tradition!

But when I conceived Alpha triplets, the werewolf world exploded. A miracle that happens once in a lifetime!

The rules of our contract marriage were simple: five years, then we're done.

Ethan's in a wheelchair, so I'm safe. He can't chase me, control me, or suffocate me.

The first night I helped him shower, his shirt slid off and I froze—perfect abs, broad shoulders, defined muscle lines.

"Upper body training," he explained. "Prevents atrophy."

Day three, I walked out in a silk slip dress to grab water. Ethan gripped his wheelchair, knuckles white, voice tight: "Just... go back to your room."

In the mirror—thin silk clinging to my body. Oh.

I started massaging his legs nightly to "stimulate nerve recovery." My hands worked across his thighs, feeling muscles that seemed impossibly solid. His breathing got heavier, fists clenching the sheets.

This went on for five months.

Until the basement door opened.

Security footage showed him standing. Running. Doing pull-ups. Every muscle working perfectly.

He turned to face me, no longer looking up. Six foot three, radiating raw masculine presence:

"Want to know how I survived five months? Every time you touched me, I felt it. Every. Single. Time."

"Now," he pressed me against the wall, "I don't have to hold back anymore."

They say love means never having to say you're sorry. But what if the man who promised to love you points a gun-wielding stranger straight at your heart?

My name is Victoria Kingsley. Three months ago, I was Orange County's perfect housewife. Then my husband chose his pregnant mistress over me at gunpoint. That's when I discovered my marriage was built on my father's suicide, stolen retirement funds, and a criminal conspiracy that made me the perfect scapegoat.

Marcus thought he married a naive housewife. He was wrong.

I spent three years chasing Caden Hartwell.

He's the future Alpha. I'm just the daughter of fallen warriors. He said I was too rough, not elegant enough, could never be Luna. For three years, I changed everything to be worthy of him—wore dresses, learned makeup, cut back on training. But our relationship stayed a secret.

Until that night when I walked into his family's study and saw him with another woman pressed against the desk, his mouth on hers.

I thought my world had ended.

But then his twin brother Cole found me crying at the training grounds. The man who'd been silently protecting me all along. The one who never asked me to change. The one who said, "Your strength makes you perfect."

One night later, everything changed.

Then came our wolf awakening. When the soul-bond pulled at me, I felt it.

The twins. Both my fated mates.

Now Caden stands before me, saying it's the Moon Goddess's will, saying he'll change, saying Autumn doesn't matter anymore. And Cole holds my hand, fear in his eyes, but he says he'll respect whatever I choose.

The mate bond is destiny's gift.

But I have the right to choose my own happiness.

"I, Skye Brennan, reject you..."

Three years of passion between the sheets, three years of sweet promises—all just foreplay to the perfect betrayal.

When Felix publicly declared Scarlett Wilson as his "artistic partner," when he said dating someone "at my level" would be "professional suicide," I finally understood—I was nothing but his stepping stone to the Wilson family fortune, a used rag to be discarded.

Even more pathetic? The bitch who stole my man wasn't satisfied with just that. She had to destroy my art career too. Plagiarism accusations, vicious smears, "accidental" artwork destruction... Scarlett Wilson used her family's power to systematically push me into the abyss, wanting to make sure I'd never hold my head up in the art world again.

Did she think I'd just take it like some pathetic victim?

Wrong.

When I played that recording of her confessing to every single crime under the Whitney Museum's spotlights; when the entire art world watched this "socialite princess" screaming hysterical denials; when Tate Modern personally invited me to exhibit and Gagosian Gallery offered me a $500K guarantee—

That's what total destruction looks like.

But the most satisfying part? Watching Felix's pathetic transformation: from the arrogant gallery owner to a broken man in wrinkled shirts, begging for my forgiveness. When he cried, "I've lost everything, please give me another chance," all I wanted to tell him was—

Fuck off. You're not worth it.

I thought I knew what betrayal felt like—until I caught my fiancé Edmund tongue-deep with his "innocent little sister" Cordelia, whispering that marrying me was just "perfect cover" for their sick, twisted affair.

The engagement ring that never quite fit? Now I know why—it was never meant for my finger.

But here's the thing about sweet, fragile Cordelia: she's been living a lie for fifteen years. Because the real Violet—Edmund's actual sister—has been rotting in her grave since Cordelia shoved her down those stairs and stole her entire fucking life.

Too bad for them, I've always been good at keeping secrets.

And even better at revenge.

Seven years of love, seven years of waiting, seven years of trust.

I thought I was the most important woman in his life, until I watched him slip a wedding dress onto another woman at the bridal expo, calling me "irrelevant" in front of everyone.

I thought those sweet words were real, until I broke into his house and found that perfect wedding plan—Groom: Cole Matthews, Bride: Blaire Watson, Wedding Date: three months away.

I thought we had a future, until they stood in front of my mother and shattered my seven-year fantasy in the cruelest way possible, until Mom collapsed from a heart attack in my arms.

That's when I finally understood—I was nothing but a pawn in their game from the very beginning. A practice dummy for love, a stepping stone for business secrets.

But Cole Matthews had no idea how dangerous a broken-hearted woman could be.

From the moment he lost his first client, from the moment the FBI knocked on his office door, from the moment Blaire tearfully distanced herself from him on live TV—it was all part of my carefully orchestrated revenge.

In the end, when he was on his knees begging for my forgiveness, I told him:

"Tomorrow you'll receive an acquisition contract. I'm buying your company."

This isn't revenge. This is debt collection.

Seven years of accounts, principal plus interest. Not a penny less.

Five years ago, I walked away pregnant and heartbroken.
He chose someone else.
He let me go without looking back.

Now I’ve returned—with a son who carries his blood
and a strength I never knew I had.

He kneels, begging for forgiveness.

I died in his fire.

Lucian Cross made me Ghost—the deadliest assassin in New York's underworld. Thirty-seven kills. Ten years of loyalty. Then he locked the cuffs himself and told me I was too soft to live.

But death gave me a second chance.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back in that warehouse. This time, I'm not crying. This time, I'm escaping. And this time, I'm taking everything he built and burning it down.

There's just one problem: Kael Vaughn, Lucian's sworn enemy, pulled me from the rubble. Now I'm hiding my identity while falling for the one man who'd kill me if he knew the truth.

Except when my secret comes out, Kael doesn't pull the trigger. He hands me a gun instead.

"I don't care who you were. I care who you choose to be now."

But Lucian never lets go of what's his.

Everyone said Harper looked just like Lexi. Same golden hair. Same blue eyes. Same smile.
Of course she did. Lexi was my surrogate. She carried Harper for me when my body couldn't. She gave me the gift of motherhood.
At least, that's what I believed.
Until I saw the DNA results. Harper shares 50% of her DNA with my husband Colton. And 50% with his stepmother Lexi.
Zero percent with me.
There was no surrogacy. No IVF clinic. No embryo transfer. Just my husband sleeping with his stepmother, and making me believe I was finally a mother.
Harper's first birthday. Sixty guests in our garden. Perfect party.
I stand up.

I am Isabella, the FBI's most distinguished undercover agent.
He is Vincent Salvatore, the most perilous crime lord in Chicago.

Mission: Infiltrate his ranks, gather evidence, and dismantle his empire.
Outcome: I became pregnant with his child.

An explosion stripped him of his memories,
and I fled with his seed.

But who could have anticipated—
that the amnesiac Vincent would fall maddeningly in love with the "stranger" that I am?

"Woman, your eyes drive me insane," he declared, gripping my waist, his gaze both perilous and passionate. "Come home with me."

Don Loves His "Male" Right-Hand
To survive, I disguised myself as a man and infiltrated the most dangerous mafia organization. Three years of bloody warfare, and I became cold-blooded boss Dante's deadliest weapon—never expected that in this deadly game, I'd accidentally conquer this devil's heart.

When my disguise was crumbling, I made the craziest choice—fake my death and vanish, completely escaping Dante's control.

Three years later, just when I thought I was finally free, fate dealt me the cruelest blow—

"I told you, if you ever dare show up in front of me again..." Dante breathed against my ear, "I'll fucking screw you to death."

I found myself trapped in his private castle with nowhere to run.

Every single day for these three years, he's been hunting down this damn liar like a madman.

This time, he won't let her get away.

My husband, Julian, had been secretly involved with my stepsister for a year.
And on the very day I finally decided to divorce him—
he got into a car accident, lost his memory,
and woke up believing he was still at the age when he loved me.
No betrayal.
No lies.
No “her.”
He held on to me the way he used to,
while my stepsister knelt at my feet, begging me to spare their “true love.”
But I’m no longer the woman who suffers in silence.

I thought I had married the love of my life, until I discovered he planned to use my womb as a sacrifice for his mistress.

For five years, I gave Dax everything—my brilliance, my body, my soul. I believed we were building a future together, trying for the baby that would complete our Silicon Valley fairy tale.

Then I overheard the conspiracy that shattered my world: defective embryos implanted in my body, followed by a hysterectomy disguised as "medical complications." All to clear the path for Ada and their "perfect heir."

In that moment, I realized I had never been his wife—I was just a disposable vessel.

But they made one fatal mistake: they underestimated the fury of a betrayed woman with an MIT degree and nothing left to lose.

Love had made me blind, but betrayal made me brilliant.

I was stitching up a shrapnel wound in South Sudan when a lawyer called to tell me my grandfather William Caldwell had died, leaving me 120 billion dollars - I didn't even know he existed. Now I'm back in New York to claim my inheritance and cancel an engagement to businessman Oliver Jennings that my grandfather had arranged. His secretary Theodore brought me straight from the airport to try on jewelry for tonight's dinner party, where he plans to reveal my identity and announce my inheritance.

Just as I was trying on the necklace, a woman arrogantly yanked it from my neck and mocked me as a nobody. I don't like to abuse my power, but she's an exception.

"Not pregnant again?"
Those three words have become more familiar than "I love you" in my marriage. For two years, I've dreaded the monthly ritual—the single line on the test, Damon's disappointed sigh, his mechanical "We'll try again."
Until yesterday.
"Congratulations, you're four weeks along," the doctor beamed, sliding the report across her desk.
I gripped that paper like a lifeline, tears streaming down my face as I touched my still-flat belly. Finally, he'll look at me the way he used to.
But some victories come with a price I never saw coming...

Selene thought she'd found true love with Alexander Morrison. She was WRONG—she was just a stand-in for Jessa, the woman he really wanted.

When Alexander and his twin brother Adrian's yacht exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, Alexander came home with Adrian's ashes, claiming to BE Adrian. His goal? To steal Adrian's wife Jessa—the woman he'd always loved.

Selene knew instantly he was lying, but when she told everyone, no one believed her. Alexander called her "crazy from trauma" and locked her away in a mental facility. She was PREGNANT.

They drugged her daily. After she gave birth, Alexander told her the baby died. She broke completely.

Three years later, dying in that white hell, Selene heard Alexander's final confession:

"I always loved Jessa. Adrian just got to her first. YOU? You were just her replacement."

"The kid's alive. I gave him to Jessa. He calls her Mom now."

Selene died full of rage—then woke up reborn, back to the moment Alexander walked in with that urn.

This time, she'd expose his lies and make him PAY.

The billionaire who'd been keeping me for five years texted at 2 AM.
Get over here. Wear the black lingerie.
I grabbed the lace and ran through the rain to his penthouse.
Candles. Champagne. Rose petals on the bed.
For one pathetic second, I thought it was for me.
Then he shoved me onto the mattress and whispered: "I found you a new sugar daddy. Go spread your legs for him next week. But tonight—you're still mine."

My husband and I've been married for three years, and he's been messing around with her the entire time.

Hugging and kissing her on set, whispering flirty lines in interviews.

Everyone online calls me a pathetic stand-in.

I never get mad. I just smile and help him smooth over every rumor.

That is, until I accidentally got pregnant and secretly had an abortion.

He was furious, his heart shattered, demanding to know why.

I cupped his face and said calmly: "Because I don't love you."

The one I truly love is his dead brother.

I heard them through the servants' stairwell.
Two new courtesans. Laughing.
"Can't believe she still buys it. Three years playing medieval whore and she thinks it's real."
My hand froze on the stone wall.
"A PhD from Columbia. Now she's on her knees for rich assholes playing dress-up."
PhD. Columbia.
Words that didn't exist in Silvermere Kingdom. Words from a life I'd been told was just a fever dream.
I pressed closer to the doorframe. Silk rustling against stone.
"These guys really know how to break someone."
"Think she'd lose it if she found out? That her precious Duke built this whole place just to fuck with her?"
Sebastian
The corridor tilted.
"Are you insane? We signed NDAs with death clauses. You want to disappear?"
Everything stopped—my heartbeat, time itself.
Actresses. Contracts. This whole world—fake.
Three fucking years.
"Morgana."
His voice. Right behind me.
"What are you doing here?"

After Nicholas got engaged, his assistant handed me a plane ticket.

"Leave. Don’t ever show your face in Silverlight City again."

"Otherwise, Mr. Jackson has more than enough ways to ruin you."

All those years I spent by his side, I was admired by everyone, living in the spotlight.

Yet when I finally left, I was reduced to a pitiful, laughable sight.

I said, "Fine."

But that very night, the flight plunged from over thirty thousand feet in the air.

I gave five years to my husband's ambition—and got betrayal in return.

Forty-three days without a break on the Imperial City project. I collapsed from exhaustion and woke up in the hospital. He never picked up the phone.

He was too busy celebrating his mistress's birthday.

The blonde hair wrapped around his jacket was like a slap to the face. I'd cut my own hair short years ago because he said long hair wasn't "professional." He just meant it wasn't professional on me.

He promised we'd move to Imperial City together once he succeeded. But he was always too busy—except when it came to touring my project sites with her.

I'd had enough.

I froze the accounts. Pulled the funding. Took back everything I'd built.

He tried to push me out of my own position, so I reclaimed the patents and withdrew my support.

He called a press conference to save face. I attended—as an executive at his largest competitor.

I watched him crumble.

For five years, I held him up. And for five years, he treated me like something disposable.

He forgot that the empire he thought he built was never his.

It was always mine.

It's raining. I can hear the droplets falling on the glass on the ceiling. But no smell of outside world. I don't even remember how it feels to be outside. Free and breathing in fresh air since he got me here. I clutched onto Ryan's little hands when I heard the beep of the door lock.
He is here .. His heavy footsteps echoed in the silent basement. I left Ryan sleeping in the room and stood in front of him. His eyes filled with lust bore into mine..


She was kidnapped, taken away from the world by a lonely crazy guy. She was his captive and had no reason to live other than her son. Will she escape or grow old or worse he kills her finding someone new??
Inspired from " Real events and news I saw in tv about a girl...

After a devastating car accident, Blair White lost her sight and everything she held dear, plunging her world into darkness.

On a snowy winter's night, with her gravely ill mother, she found herself thrown out onto the streets. In that moment of utter desperation, Harrison Ward extended his hand in apparent salvation.

She trusted him completely, marrying him without hesitation. For three years she lived within his web of lies, only to discover he hadn't led her to salvation or even purgatory - but straight into hell itself.

When Blair finally awakened to the truth and filed for divorce, Harrison merely smirked as he signed the papers, declaring with absolute certainty: "You'll come crawling back to me."

In Harrison's mind, Blair was nothing but a weak, blind woman - someone anyone could step on. Without him, she couldn't possibly survive.

He watched coldly as others tormented her, staying silent as she suffered, pushing her further and further toward the edge of despair.

One year later, at a high society gala, he stared at the stunning woman commanding everyone's attention. His eyes welled with tears as he desperately pulled her into his arms, his voice breaking with barely contained emotion: "Blair... you're alive?"

Blair gazed at the haggard, desperate man before her, her eyes filled with nothing but detachment: "Mr. Ward, please control yourself. My husband might get the wrong idea!"

The adaptation maintains the emotional core while adjusting the language and cultural context to feel natural in American English, keeping the themes of betrayal, redemption, and transformation that drive the narrative.