1427 Book(s) Related to finding you who abandoned me novel

In a sleek design world split between polished appearances and buried cruelty, Mara Ellison has spent years trapped behind a voice no one wanted to hear. While her family rewrites her illness and her fiancé speaks over her in the name of love, stolen records, public humiliation, and old betrayals force her to reclaim her life. Quiet but cutting, this is a story of emotional abuse, identity theft, and hard-won selfhood—framed by rain-soaked streets, hospital corridors, cold glass conference rooms, and a woman finally stepping into the light with her own voice.

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

Five years into living with my stepbrother Gideon, the scholarship girl he sponsored moved into our house.
To repay his "generosity," she made a habit of slipping into his bed at night. By day, she took it upon herself to "fix" my antisocial, withdrawn personality.
Three days before St. George Prep's graduation ceremony, she brought me a glass of juice wearing that nauseating sugar-sweet smile.
"You know, Charlotte, your peanut allergy is probably psychosomatic. You just need some exposure therapy. Let me help you get over it."
That night, my throat closed completely. She'd deliberately laced my drink with concentrated peanut extract.
I convulsed on the cold hardwood floor, vision tunneling as oxygen fled my lungs.
In the last second before darkness swallowed me whole, I clawed desperately toward the half-open door.
Standing in the hallway were my boyfriend Dylan and my stepbrother Gideon.
They simply watched me suffocate. Then Gideon calmly reached out and shut the door.
I died from anaphylactic shock.
Three months later, as a ghost tethered to this world, I watched her stride onto Stanford's campus. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my acceptance letter. Burning through my trust fund.
Through the crowd, I saw Gideon—my ice-cold, unreachable stepbrother—gently cradle her face and press his lips to hers.
Then I gasped awake.
I was back. Three days before graduation.

I was here because of missed periods and abnormal bleeding—a suspected threatened miscarriage.

When asked about our relationship, my boyfriend didn't even look at me.

"We're just classmates," he told the nurse.

He thought he was cutting ties with a worthless nobody so he could chase after a billionaire's daughter.

What he didn't know was... I was the heiress he was desperately looking for.

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

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

My husband used my cottage to cheat on me. Fine. I found out, I drove three hours, and I walked into my own house to find his mistress wearing my dead grandmother's sweater.
She told me to leave.
He showed up, kissed her in front of me, then grabbed my arm and shoved me into the door frame.
That's when I had the asthma attack. He's known about my asthma for five years.
My inhaler rolled across the porch floor. His mistress picked it up, held it out, and told me to sign a statement saying I'd caused all of this. Then she'd give it back.
He looked at me on the ground and said: She's performing.
I'm sitting on the floor of my own grandmother's house, gasping, and my husband is telling the neighbors I'm acting.
Nobody thought to ask whose family manages every property on this coastline.

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

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

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

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

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

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

Everyone thinks Nadia Hart is pure innocence—sweet, soft-spoken, and untouchable. She is the girl no one ever suspects of harboring dark, dangerous desires. Her best friend, Brielle, is the exact opposite: loud, reckless, and addicted to taking whatever—and whoever—she wants. Especially her own stepfather, Kane Vale.

Brielle treats Kane like a secret she owns. Nadia listens, pretending not to care. But behind her quiet smile lies a dirty secret: Kane isn't a stranger. Long before Brielle brought her home, Nadia shared an uninhibited night with him in the dark.

The moment Kane sees Nadia in his house, recognition burns through him. He knows exactly who she is, and he’s been waiting for her to break. What starts with a covert midnight rendezvous and a near-catch by a sleepwalking Brielle quickly spirals into a taboo dynamic. When Nadia catches Brielle and Kane in the act the next afternoon, Brielle doesn't back down—she pulls Nadia deeper into the fire, convincing her to join them in a boundary-pushing threesome......

It's fall break, and Mom and my sister Della Sinclair are visiting me at St. Julian's Academy.

The South Campus Arctic Biome is a landmark the Sinclair family funded years ago. It's filled with the rare arctic flowers Mom and Della have always loved. Every single time they visit, they have to go in.

That's when Kiley Croft, the girl Fletcher Waverly grew up with, pulls what she calls "a little prank." While no one's paying attention, she locks the door from the outside panel and pushes the temperature controls to maximum.

The people inside are trapped. They burn to death.

Kiley runs to Fletcher in tears, and instead of calling 911, he pulls her close and tells her:

"Hey. It's okay. It was an accident. This isn't on you."

He doesn't call me until the fire trucks show up.

"Blythe, the biome caught fire. Your mom and your sister are trapped inside."

I spin around.

Della is right next to me, sniffling and complaining about her cold. Mom is passing her tissues.

They're both completely fine.

Then who the hell is in there?

At night, it was already midnight when Asher came home from dinner.

He knew that Nora would come to The Howe family today. His grandpa Howard had asked Asher to meet Nora, but he refused on the grounds of work. He was not interested in this fiancee at all, and the engagement would be broken sooner or later

After returning to the room, Asher took a bath and went to sleep.

Probably because he drank a little too much tonight, Asher didn't realize there were other women in the room until he lay down.

He was slightly stunned. In the darkness, Asher could not see the woman's face. She turned over and hugged him. The girl murmured, "Good bear, don't make any noise. Just sleep."

Asher was frozen.

The woman had a very familiar smell, the same as that person...

Probably because of the alcohol, Asher didn't move, lying down with Nora and falling asleep.

"You do realize we're getting married this Friday, right?"
"It's just a contract. No feelings. No strings."
"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?"
Sienna Madsen had always played by the rules. Until life left her no choice.
With her beloved mother gone, hospital bills piling up, and rent soaring beyond reach, Sienna is desperate. Her best friend has a wild solution: marry a brooding Canadian hockey player who needs a green card. One year of fake marriage, a free apartment, and no strings attached—what could go wrong?
Enter Matt Gruber. Grumpy. Gorgeous. Guarded. He's the last person Sienna expects to share a roof with, let alone a bathroom. But what begins as a paper arrangement quickly sparks forbidden chemistry neither can deny. He cooks. She tempts. And the boundaries between pretend and passion blur dangerously fast.
Sienna promised herself she wouldn't fall. But when the season ends and the divorce papers are signed, can she really walk away from the only man who's ever made her feel at home?

A one-night stand with my handsome Alpha mate ends in disaster once he discovers I'm packless and was thrown away to fend for myself by my original pack for being a lazy stoner.

Needless to say, my mate, Wesley, rejects me on the spot. I'm not good enough for him—too bad he won't get rid of me after our night together. Not when I'm carrying his baby. Karma is a B....isn't she?

Yasmin Vaziri woke up in a hospital three years ago with no memory of who she was. Her only family, her aunt, told her to focus building a new life. So when a charming billionaire sweeps her off her feet at a party in Ibiza, she thinks her aunt's wish is finally coming true.

But Jonathan Cross is not just any billionaire. He is a man of scandal with an endless chain of children and women trailing behind him.

About to graduate from mistress to wife, Yasmin must navigate the schemes of his ruthless children and confront her forgotten past with Sebastian Cross, Jonathan's heir and the man she once loved

Young master Dominic Thales got involved in an accident that left him in a coma for three years.

His new wife, Brielle, who had been six months pregnant at the time of his accident was pampered by his family till suddenly a tragedy struck the Thales group sending their finances rock bottom.

Brielle was taken back by her family who swore that she’d never see her husband and her sons would be under their name.

Seven years later, Dominic Thales awoke but he is no longer the respected young master and his beloved wife had been taken from him.

Can he overcome and get back his wealth and wife? And was his accident a mistake or was there someone after his life?

A wedding is said to be the happiest day in a couples life but you can't say the same for Zoe Francis whose wedding was nothing short of a nightmare.
Zoe caught her supposed fiance having a threesome with her pregnant sister and her best lady.
Unfortunately, she falls into a pile of troubles which led her to have a one night stand with an handsome stranger?
When Daniel, (an handsome cold man) discovered what she had done, he vows to find the tramp that took the most important thing that belonged to him?
Will Zoe's life get any better when she's stuck with a baby she does not know the father? What happens when her daughter asks her who her father is after few years?
What happens when Daniel eventually finds her?
What eventually happens when he falls in love with her but it seems as if the world is against them? Can Zoe ever tame the heart of the cold billionaire?

At our engagement party, Eli demands I sign a hundred-thousand-dollar check to bail out his first love, Aila.

I cave, pouring everything I have into paving the way for his future.

But he pays off a nurse to slip me abortion pills, manipulates the training equipment to crush my pelvis, and causes me to hemorrhage and miscarry.

While I lie in the hospital fighting for my life, he spreads rumors about my promiscuity, burns my cherished nautical collection to ashes, and scatters them over Aila's grave.

He steps on my spine to get his acceptance letter to the top maritime academy, trading my life for his future.

After gaining power, he frames my brother, ruining his promotion to captain, and eventually tramples my entire shipping family under his feet.

I die full of resentment, only to wake up to Eli slamming his hand on the table and screaming at me. Aila is trapped in an underground club! Sign this check right now! If I don't get the money to bail her out, she's dead tonight!

A family traitor had me and my five-year-old son chained up in an abandoned shipyard.
C-4 was strapped to my boy’s chest.
With ten minutes left, the kidnapper delivered his ultimatum:
“Bring Alessandro here, or I’ll send you both home in body bags.”
I tried accessing my hidden accounts to hire an extraction team, but the passwords had been changed.
I offered everything I owned for our lives, only to learn that my husband had drained every account to pay off a beachfront estate—for another woman.
I bit my lip until I called him. More than a dozen times before he answered.
All I got was Alessandro’s cold laugh.
“You’d really fake a kidnapping for attention?”
“The helicopter isn’t coming. Vivian’s shaken up. I’m taking her to buy a new dress. I don’t have time for your theatrics.”
Vivian’s soft voice drifted through the phone.
“Sandro, the thunder… I’m scared.”
He hung up.
In the bomb’s angry red glow, something inside me went still.
I dragged my wrist across a jagged edge until it split, tore off my wedding ring, and dropped it into the blood pooling at my feet.
Alessandro. Your wife and son are done waiting.
Seconds later, the explosion tore the night apart.
Alessandro stumbled from his Maybach and fell to his knees before the flames, screaming himself hoarse.

I loved Damien for ten years. Ten years, right up until the moment he took the heart that was supposed to save our daughter and gave it to someone else's child.

Lily was only seven. She was terrified of the dark, terrified of pain. She never got that heart. She just faded, right there in that hospital bed.

And Damien was down the hall, celebrating someone else's miracle.

He had no idea what I was holding when he finally came home. He had no idea my stomach cancer had already hit the final stage.

There was nothing left in this world worth staying for.

So this time, I didn't yell. I didn't cry.

I just slid the divorce papers across the table.

He thought I was bluffing.

But this time, I had nothing left to lose.

Ethan Calloway and I had been together for eight years. Married for three—or so everyone thought.
We had the ceremony. The hospital chapel, the white dress, his boss giving a toast. But we never made it to City Hall to sign the papers. He promised we would. Eighteen times.
Every time, something came up. Or rather, someone came up—his young protégée, Chloe. She needed him at the hospital. She needed him at the conference. She needed him at dinner.
I drank on his behalf at every work function. I wrote the surgical plans he presented as his own. I waited in an empty apartment while he drove her home.
The nineteenth time he tried to reschedule, I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I just booked a one-way ticket to the one city he'd never follow me to.
He made eighteen promises. I only needed to break one.

Silver poisoning struck, and my mother's life hung by a thread.
I knelt and begged my partner Selene to use the 100,000 gold coins from our war spoils to purchase Moonlight Holy Water, but she coldly refused with a sneer: "An ordinary silver poison patient isn't worth wasting resources on." She then turned and spent 80,000 coins on a necklace for her male lover.
My mother died in my arms as I ground my teeth and swallowed my tears of blood.
But when the patrol came to collect the body, she finally discovered—the one sent to be buried deep in the mass grave wasn't my mother at all, but her own biological mother.
She had personally buried her own mom!

Five years ago, my ex-boyfriend Jason said coldly when he abandoned me: "Charlotte, you're not worthy of my dreams."

Five years later, when I saw him again, he had become Floreton's tech mogul while I remained a simple sculptor. His new fiancée—a wealthy heiress—sneered at my modest attire: "Someone like you can actually afford to book a top-tier wedding venue?"

She stole my venue, crushed my fingers, and forced me to kneel and apologize: "Say you don't belong here!"

Jason stood by watching coldly, just as indifferent as he was on that rainy night five years ago.

I desperately thought this was my fate, until that familiar, furious voice echoed throughout the entire venue:

"What bastard touched my woman!"

My Bradley had arrived.

This time, I would be the one laughing last.

A gang boss ground my treasured staff into dust with one boot. “A gutter-bred bastard from the slums, and you’re hiding something this delicate? Cripple him. Let him learn who runs this turf.”
I stared at the silver-white powder on the floor. It was the last relic my brothers left me.
I once swore these hands would be used only to save people, never to kill again.
But today, even the heavens refused to allow it.
I lifted my head slowly. The elven ears I’d kept lowered in submission rose one by one in the dark, sharp as a wolf’s.
“You’re asking me who runs this turf?”
My fist snapped out and caved in the boss’s nose.
I twisted backhanded. Three elite enforcers had their bones shattered in an instant, collapsing like sacks of rotten meat.
I grabbed the boss by the throat with one hand and hoisted his two-hundred-pound body into the air, eyes cold as if I were staring at a corpse.
“Three years ago, when I laid down the rules in this district, you didn’t even know where you were playing in the mud.”
“My things are not for you to touch.”

"Spread your legs," the cold, handsome doctor ordered.
To escape her ex-boyfriend’s wedding invitation , Alana Martin attended an elite gala, wore a borrowed gown , and ended up spending a wild night with a dangerously handsome stranger.
Panicked, she fled the next morning —only to end up in the hospital days later with severe inflammation.
But when the curtain pulled back, the "doctor" examining her intimate areas was the exact same man from that night!
Worse?
He was looking at her with a wicked smirk,
"You stole my first night, ignored my note , and now you’re playing the amnesia game? I’m the victim here, little lady. Take responsibility."

At her own birthday banquet, another woman was the star of the night.
She stood at the door and watched her husband crown his "friend" with a diamond-studded tiara — the very gift she thought was meant for her.
On the stage, he smiled tenderly. Their daughter laughed and danced. She alone was the uninvited stranger.
For six years, she gave up a brilliant research career to become his housewife — and received not a single word of gratitude.
When her heart finally went cold, she walked away, leaving nothing behind but a divorce agreement.
Then she returned to the lab — and stunned the world as a leading scientist. No more shrinking herself for anyone. She became herself again.
And the man who once treated her like air cornered her with red-rimmed eyes:
"Darling, I was wrong. Please come home."

On a rainy evening, Ophelia Taylor caught her husband Benjamin White cheating, shattering their marriage and her happy illusions completely. Plunged into despair, she found solace in Benjamin’s younger brother, William. Gentle and steady, William silently guarded her—bringing warm milk on sleepless nights, defending her from Benjamin’s coldness—slowly melting her broken heart. Unknowingly, both fell for each other, a forbidden affection blooming amid betrayal. Torn between her unfaithful husband and her off-limits brother-in-law, Ophelia stood at an emotional crossroads. Her reason screamed it was wrong, but her heart clung to William’s warmth. This tangled struggle of love and guilt had just begun.

My family let me die. My fiancé watched. My sister smiled.
I was the real daughter, dragged from the orphanage to donate my bone marrow, then thrown away like garbage. When the monsters came for the imposter, they shielded her and left me to rot.
But death wasn’t the end. It was a deal.
I woke with a system tethered to my pulse—one that trades public admiration for the power to survive.​ And behind these hands are two identities they never suspected: the legend whose music they worship, and the ghost in the machine who owns their secrets.
They think I’m back to beg for love.
They’re wrong. I’m here to collect.
This time, I won’t just take back my music and my name. I’ll make them need me—right before I watch them lose everything.
They wanted me erased.
I’m about to become the only name that matters.

I died in a rainy day. For twenty-eight years, I clung desperately to my adoptive family, craving nothing but warmth and a home. Yet all my devotion was nothing but a joke.
Everyone in the household loathed me, quick to side with my adoptive sister Isabelle over every lie she spun. I gave my whole heart to my fiancé Damien Sterling, believing he would be my salvation. But when the truth surfaced, he looked at me like I was filth beneath his shoes, his face twisted with contempt.
“You were never more than a distraction,” he snarled. “Isabelle is the only one I love. Can’t you see how tainted you are?”
Those words shattered me more than any injury. Abandoned by everyone I cared about, I had nowhere left to turn before they arranged my death.
But somehow, I’m twenty-two again—returned to that fateful year before all my nightmares unfolded.This time, I’ll burn down everyone who destroyed me.

After discovering her wolf's abnormality, Ashira went to find her mate. She was a stealer, a wolf that could provide a pup with any male, even if they were not her mate. It turned out that she was mated with Alpha Aiden! The Alpha of Prime pack, the strongest pack of the North!
She needed Aiden to claim her, to mark her! For her wolf to be accustomed to who she belongs, but Aiden doesn’t want a mate!
"Won't you claim me?" she asked.
"I'm making myself an exception to this tradition," Aiden said in a cold tone.
"You're not claiming me?!" she exclaimed.
"I'll never put my claim on you," was all he said before turning his back on her.

How will Ashira force him to mark her? Her wolf’s abnormality needed his fangs deep in her neck, and now she’s frustrated and desperate!

Read more…

This is a complete story. The first book of The Rare Wolf Series.
Each book in this series can be read as a standalone, but I highly recommend reading them in order, for the best experience.

My fiancée hates me.

She thinks I'm a criminal.

A man who spent three years behind bars.

A mistake her family forced upon her.

But every day, she tells me about another man.

A hero.

A legend.

A ghost from her past.

The man who once saved her life.

The man she still loves.

The funny thing?

That man is me.

I could tell her the truth.

I could reveal who I really am.

But after everything I've lost, I'm no longer sure I want her love.

Not until she learns to see the man standing in front of her.

Not the legend she built in her dreams.

"I want a child, not the child's mother."
These chilling words come from Toop Pasutha, the renowned actor who reluctantly married Anshan Akirah solely to meet his family’s demands rather than out of love.

Anshan does his utmost to fulfill his role as a wife, yet their physical intimacy is confined strictly to the pursuit of an heir.

The hope of earning any affection from Toop slowly fades as his actions reinforce that Anshan is nothing more than a stranger to Toop

Amid this fragile and painful union, can true love ever truly blossom?

"You abandoned her five years ago. You don't get to take her back now."

Dante Moretti's icy voice silenced the entire room.

My ex-fiancé stared at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Mia... come home with me."

Dante wrapped an arm around my waist.

"She's already home."

Five years ago, Mia Hayes was publicly abandoned by her fiancé, humiliated by New York's most powerful mafia family, and forced to disappear with her sick mother.

Now she's back—not by choice.

Her mother's life depends on the ruthless billionaire Dante Moretti, the man everyone fears... and the uncle of the man who once broke her heart.

Dante offers her a deal she can't refuse:
Stay in his mansion for three months, and he'll save her mother.

But living under the same roof means discovering the truth.

Why did Dante secretly keep every sketch she ever drew?

Why has he been protecting her from the shadows for five years?

Why does every member of the Moretti family fear the way he looks at her?

When her ex-fiancé begs for a second chance, Dante simply pulls her into his arms in front of everyone.

"She's mine."

But what happens when Mia uncovers the devastating secret behind the broken engagement...

And realizes the man she fears most may have loved her all along?

Warning: This novel have matured contents +18

Me and you. Come on let's play. "She said".

Um, okay, sure," I said, "but what do we do if one of us refuses to answer truth, or do a dare?"

"Then," smiled vicky, "A different truth or dare is given, and that one has to be done, no matter what."

"Ok Deal," I said.

"Truth or Dare?" she asked.

"Truth," I said.

"What's your honest opinion of those pics you saw, of me?" She gave me a look of pure curiosity, which only made me laugh a little.

"They were very hot," I said. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," she said, smiling at my comment.

"Is it just me, or are you not wearing panties?" I said, more to tease her about it, than I was curious.

"Yeah, I'm not," she said. "Actually, I'm surprised you noticed. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," I said.

"I dare you to take off your shirt," she said.

So, thats how it started. I don't know why, but her mission is to find any means to have me for herself not minding what it will result to. Though she later had me and even got pregnant for me., but what happened after that is was you won't expect.

When I scrolled across that photo of Tyler with his arms wrapped around Rachel at 2 AM, I nearly shattered my phone against the wall. That bastard—maintaining our "just scratching an itch" arrangement while wooing her with soulmate bullshit?

With anger burning through my veins and my skin flushing hot, I stormed off to the jazz bar determined to expose him.

But who could have guessed that in the middle of this dramatic showdown, I'd discover the truth about Seth—the one secretly marking up my sheet music, the one who decked Tyler for me?

Maybe this gut-wrenching betrayal was actually the universe's twisted way of pointing me toward something real.

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.

I stayed in this city for Dorian, pushed my way into his company, and saved every penny for three years just so we could build a home together.
But an anonymous flash drive shoved a video of him cheating in our bed right into my face. The next day, a promotion announcement handed the position I’d bled for to the very woman who seduced him.
With my dignity crushed to dust, I had only one person left to rely on—my gentle, almost obsessively devoted stepbrother, Ambrose.
He promised to make those scumbags tear each other apart. He promised Dorian would crawl back to my feet like a dog.
He offered me a "secret recipe" with immediate results.
I expected a deeply satisfying revenge. I never imagined what that so-called recipe actually was...

Three years ago, my pairs skating partner and I had a beautiful wedding surrounded by friends and family—but we never actually got around to signing the legal papers.
Over those three years, he has stood me up at City Hall exactly twenty-eight times.
One time, he stole my cab while I was burning up with a fever, leaving me shivering on the curb because his new, pampered protégée had a stomachache from drinking too much champagne.
Another time, he blew off our anniversary to rush to her side for a minor sprain.
Every single time we were supposed to finally make our marriage official, his precious junior skater somehow had a devastating emergency.
After twenty-eight broken promises, I finally stopped waiting. I dropped our partnership, shredded our application, and boarded a one-way flight to Milan.
But the moment I completely vanished from his life, the man who couldn't spare an hour to marry me suddenly lost his mind—chasing me across the globe to a city he swore he’d never return to, begging on his knees outside my door for a twenty-ninth chance.

"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.

On a full moon, every wolf has to be inside a registered shelter before moonrise. That's pack law.
So when my husband's leave finally lined up with a moon, I spent six months and eighty thousand dollars booking his whole family into a top-tier sanctuary on Silverspine Ridge. Then his first love decided she wanted to come.
Instead of telling her no, he gave her my registered bed — and sent me a queue number for the state shelter, a thirty-six-hour line for a bunk in an open ward full of rogues. I looked at his parents, his sister, waiting for one of them to object. Every single one of them took his side.
So fine. I drove the other way, and spent the next three full moons enjoying myself — alone. That's when the whole family started to panic...

When the dismissal bell rings, the night resets.
I'm Zoe, a high school sophomore living on campus, isolated by my entire family and the whole school. My "crime"? I reported my own little brother for campus violence.
The first time, I died in the dark by the track. The second time, shut inside the equipment room. But every time I opened my eyes, I was dragged back to the exact same starting point. Only the number on my arm—the countdown of how many lives I had left—dropped by one.
The man in the black mask always seemed to know exactly where I’d run and where I’d hide. But what truly sent shivers down my spine was this: every single time, my mother stood just a few steps away, quietly watching me take my last breath.
Once the number hits zero, there is no coming back. What do I have to do to survive this night?