1373 Book(s) Related to husband hates wife romance novels

The day my sister and I came back to life, we made one call: swap fiancés.

Last time, Dad burned every favor he had to lock down two marriage deals for the family. One with a mafia family that runs the West Coast. The other with a corporate CEO.

My sister married the mafia leader. She was too gentle, too kind for a world that ran on blood and backstabbing. The man had a childhood friend who played soft and helpless but was vicious as hell underneath. That woman tormented my sister for decades before finally arranging an "accident" that killed her.

And me? I got the polished CEO.

Sounds good, right? Except we tortured each other from day one. He was all rules and manners, always talking like he was giving a speech. Me? I blow up fast and if I can throw a punch, I will. Every day was the same standoff. He'd pull back, I'd push forward, and nobody gave an inch.

We spent our whole lives being polite and miserable.

Then one day, my sister and I woke up on the afternoon they announced the engagements.

At twenty-nine, Dominic Brooks owns this city's underworld.

This year, I'm pregnant again. Finally.

But on our daughter's death anniversary, he doesn't show. Five hours. Nothing.

I find him at our casino with some girl draped all over him. The same girl I pulled out of a trafficking ring two years ago.

She's laughing loud enough for everyone to hear. "His wife won't stop crying about that dead kid. God, he's so over it."

He kisses her. Right in front of me.

Three days later, he tears up our daughter's grave. His mistress wants a swimming pool.

The shovel comes down. My unborn baby goes with it.

Years ago, Dominic taught me the rules of our world. How we handle traitors.

Time for a reminder.

My serpent mate has locked me in the castle, nine months pregnant. A dozen serpent guards watch me day and night. I can't even leave the room.

A month ago, his brother died in a hunting accident. He became the serpent clan leader. Then he brought back his brother's widow, the woman he grew up with. His first love.

He said he needed to take care of his brother's widow. He told me we'd all live together in the castle, nice and peaceful.

I said no.

I'm his mate. I'm a beastman. My pride won't let me accept that. And they grew up together, childhood sweethearts. How could I not think about it?

She came to him in tears, heavily pregnant. She said I poisoned her medicine, that I wanted to kill her and the baby.

He believed her.

He decided I was just some rogue beastman with no background, jealous and vicious, only after his title and money. So he locked me in this freezing castle while he camped outside her delivery room.

When labor hit, I screamed for a healer. I swore I never hurt her. I just couldn't live with her under the same roof. I only ever loved him.

He just laughed. "You're good at acting. I don't believe a word out of you. Once she delivers safely, I'll deal with you. Don't think you can trick me into coming back."

But when a trembling guard reported "Your mate and the child... they didn't make it," he lost it completely.

The day the Gryphon army marched home in victory, my sister's husband came back safe. My husband, Tobias, died on the ice.

Everyone pitied me, and I believed them. I mourned him for years, handed over every resource the Elven Realm had to offer to Crown Prince Nathaniel, and helped him lock down his claim to the throne.

It took me years to find out the man who came back wasn't Nathaniel at all. It was my "dead" husband, Tobias.

He killed his own brother, stole his face with forbidden magic, all so he could marry my sister Sabrina and make her his queen, official and out in the open.

"Sabrina and I are the real thing. Pretending to be my brother, that was for the good of the kingdom."

They framed me for treason and threw me into the Pit of Judgment. As I burned, I watched the two of them hold each other while the kingdom cheered.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the army came home.

My sister begged me to stop grieving, tears in her eyes. "Nathaniel" swore he'd give me a life of luxury. The old king stood in front of everyone and promised to grant me anything I wanted.

This time, I didn't cry. I chose to remarry without a second thought.

Tobias thought wearing his brother's face was all it took to sit on that throne. What he didn't know was that without me, he never stood a chance of getting there at all.

I've got a reputation on campus as a doormat with zero dignity. I bring Wyatt Langley food, do his homework, act as his emotional dumping ground. Been at it for a year.

His rich friends mock my cheap clothes and say I'm reaching way out of my league. He never stops them. Sometimes he even laughs along.

Finally, he announces in front of everyone that he's breaking up with me. His first love is coming back from Europe, so I need to get lost.

Everyone's waiting to see me cry.

I glance at the five million dollars that hit my account half an hour ago and say, with complete sincerity, "Okay. Congrats."

What nobody knows is that I put up with him, tolerated his rotten temper, for one simple reason. His mom pays way too well.

Now the money's here. Time to end this arrangement.

So why, the second I walk away, does he start tearing the city apart trying to find me?

Ten years ago, my parents worked for the Bellamys. He was their driver. She ran the house.

Then came the crash. I watched them shove Nash Bellamy out of the wreck, and it killed them both.

That's where the claustrophobia came from.

He knew. He knew all of it.

Then at homecoming, I showed up in a dress that matched Camilla's. She was the girl he'd always wanted. So he shoved me into the abandoned supply closet backstage.

The lock turned. On the other side of the door, he and Camilla were laughing like it was nothing.

"I'm pretty sure she's claustrophobic."

"Two hours in there. She'll learn."

I clawed at my own hands until they bled, couldn't get any air, and ended up wetting myself in a closet a dog wouldn't sleep in.

When the door finally opened, he pinched his nose and laughed and said I was disgusting.

I pushed myself up the wall, inch by inch, and looked at the face I'd been looking at for ten years. And I didn't want to cry anymore. Not even a little.

"Nash. I'm done chasing you."

I died. At my sister's eighteenth birthday party, the moment the champagne tower came crashing down.

While she stood under the crystal chandelier in her gown, soaking up congratulations from three hundred guests, I was tied up in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The wound in my stomach was still bleeding.

I called my family. Only my brother picked up, sounding pissed off and disgusted. "What's your problem now? This is her big day. You better not ruin it."

I tried to explain. He hung up.

That was the ninety-ninth time they'd hung up on me.

Also the last.

They thought I was throwing a tantrum, deliberately skipping my sister's special moment. Called me ungrateful, said they regretted bringing me back from that backwater town two years ago.

Well, now they're off the hook.

Problem solved.

My husband Spencer quit his job to manage a rising model's career. In six months, she dropped the weight, blew up online, and turned into a supermodel — magazine covers, major runways, deal after deal.

Meanwhile, I watch myself expand by the day. Bloated. Double chin forming. Skin getting worse.

The whole world calls me greedy, lazy, out of control. Even my parents call to tell me to watch what I eat. And there's nothing I can say to make anyone understand.

Then one night, I catch them on the balcony, voices low, thinking no one can hear: "Forget about that fat cow. Once she drops dead, the house and the insurance are all ours."

That's when it finally makes sense.

Camille has a system tied to her. And it's tied to me.

Every pound I gain, she loses one.

I'm the fuel. The stepping stone. The inheritance they're waiting to collect.

She gets thin while I get fat?

So as long as I keep eating, she keeps losing weight?

Good.

I go ahead and spend a hundred grand booking a reclusive private chef for a full month. No limits on ingredients, price doesn't matter. The more extravagant, the better.

I'm going to eat whatever I want and actually enjoy my life.

Let's see how long she stays thin while I'm out here actually living my life.

As the only mute player in this horror game, I thought I was screwed.

Turns out the boss knows sign language.

Thank God! Perfect!

Then he gets everything completely wrong.

I sign "help me," he reads it as "you're hot."

I sign "danger," he thinks I'm saying "I like you."

I sign "get lost," and he goes, "You want me to come closer? Okay."

The worst part? I curse him out in sign language, calling him a psycho pervert.

He just smiles and says, "Baby, you're so good at flirting. I can't even bring myself to kill you now."

Me: ...

My teammate whispers to me, "Please stop signing. Every time you do, he stares at you even more like a psycho."

My parents raised me for twenty-four years. Then they found out I wasn't their biological daughter.

Their real daughter came home. She'd only been back two years. That's all it took to erase twenty-four.

When kidnappers grabbed us, I used my body as a shield. They beat me until something inside me ruptured. I was dying from internal bleeding, but no one could tell.

My parents wouldn't even look at me. "This is your fault! None of this would've happened if it weren't for you!"

"Get downstairs and apologize to your sister. If you can't, pack your things and get out."

They threw her a party at a downtown hotel while I died alone in my room.

I thought they'd be relieved. Maybe even glad. I thought they'd just move on like I never existed.

But when they finally learned the truth, they fell apart.

Three years ago, a private plane crash took my father, my mother, my brother Carter, and Grayson, the man I'd loved for seven years and was about to marry.

To hold onto everything they left behind, I cried until my eyes were raw, destroyed my stomach, and fought my way through boardrooms and Wall Street vultures.

On countless nights, I held their photographs and cried until I passed out.

What I never understood was why Willow, the foster sister we'd taken in, vanished without a trace after the crash.

Until today, three years later, when I drive back to the family estate with a diagnosis in my bag telling me I have three months to live.

I push open the heavy door and hear laughter. I see my family—the family that's supposed to be dead—gathered around Willow and her three-year-old son, singing happy birthday.

Turns out no one in this world ever loved me at all.

Why do they all get to live while I'm the only one who have to die?

Everyone thinks that after ten years engaged to Alpha Grayson, I'll end up as Frostpeak's Luna. Then one night at a gala, in front of the whole pack, he hands me over to the lowest rogue he can find.

Someone speaks up for me.

"Alpha Grayson, if you're done with her, just let her go. Why humiliate her like this? She dragged you through three days and nights in a blizzard ten years ago. She froze her body half to death saving you. She can't even shift anymore."

"That rogue can barely feed himself. She'll go with him and suffer for it."

Grayson just pulls the crying Omega closer, disgust all over his face.

"She saved me because she wanted the Luna title, that's all. I'm sick of her acting like I owe her something."

"Watch. Give it a few days and she'll come crawling back, begging me on her knees to change my mind."

I don't cry. I don't beg. I unclasp the engagement necklace, drop it at his feet, and walk out with the rogue.

Three days later, Grayson will show up at the Fringe with a hundred guards to drag me back, screaming that I'm heartless.

I don't realize how badly I've been wronged until they're strapping me to the gurney.

My name is Camille Brooks. I'm one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the city, and I have never lost a patient on my table.

My fiancé, Adrian Vance, is the golden boy of the entire hospital. We're supposed to get married next month.

It's a stormy night when he calls, telling me to get to the hospital right now. There's a patient bleeding out, and only I can save them.

I race through the rain, but I get stuck in traffic halfway there. By the time I push through the OR doors, the patient has no pulse.

The family points at me. They say I botched the procedure and killed him. And Adrian Vance, my own fiancé, takes the stand and shows up with "ironclad evidence" against me.

I have nothing to fight back with. I go to prison. My parents can't handle it. It destroys them both. They take their own lives.

It's only after I die that I learn who really held the scalpel that night: Daisy Whitman, the woman Adrian never got over.

I was just the fall guy.

Then I open my eyes.

I'm back. One hour before everything falls apart, riding through the rain toward the hospital.

This time, I'm going to survive.

And I'm going to watch both of you burn.

My husband's foster sister, Delilah, gets poisoned and ends up paralyzed. My husband, Grayson, the Don of this whole crime family, doesn't even bother checking the security cameras. He just throws me, two months pregnant, into the cistern where they punish traitors.

"Tessa, hand over the antidote, or die."

I kneel in the freezing swamp water and beg him. I didn't poison her.

He answers with a kick to the stomach.

For three straight days, I suffer down there. Leeches tear into my skin. My baby turns into a pool of black blood and dissolves into the filthy water. By the end, my vocal cords tear to shreds, my body goes cold, and I stop breathing.

His men get on their knees and beg him to spare me. He just sneers.

"That woman's always been good at playing the victim. No food, no medicine. Let her keep soaking."

Three days later, he finally walks into the cistern, and it's only to give me an ultimatum.

"Crawl out and apologize to Delilah on your knees. Otherwise I'll strip you of your title and sell you off to a trafficking ring. You'll wish you were dead."

No one answers him.

He has no idea. I already am.

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.

I've run a pet rescue shop for five years. I've lost count of the animals I've saved. Around the neighborhood, people call me the good Samaritan of Main Street. My husband, Adam Carter, and I have been married five years, and he's always been gentle and attentive.

It's a rainy night in late fall, and I come across an injured starling in the alley on my way home, its wing broken.

The second I scoop it into my arms, a man's voice cuts through the dark.

"Tomorrow night, eight o'clock. Whatever you do, don't go home. Your husband's going to sneak out with your best friend, and on the road, they're going to hit someone and kill them. Then they're going to run, and they're going to pin it on you."

I look down into the starling's eyes, and the color drains out of my face.

Five years of what I thought was love, and it was just a trap waiting to close in.

A talking bird. Nobody's going to believe that if I go to the cops.

I don't even think twice. I just take the bird and head downtown.

The day I closed another major deal, my fiancé, the CEO, smiles and tells me the credit and the bonus are going to the new intern.

I watch him lean in close to her, laughing, and something in me just stops caring enough to fight for it.

I sign the transfer request and ship myself off to the most useless department in the company.

What I don't expect is that a few days later, the same man who never looked twice at anyone beneath him is going to be on his knees begging me to come back.

I gave Arthur a thousand years. A thousand years to secure his throne as God-King.

And on the day of our engagement ceremony, he announced he was marrying someone else.

In my past life, I bled myself dry for him.

He told me Lilith needed Seraphim blood to live. I believed him. He bound me to the Divine Punishment Pillar and carved open my chest, one cut at a time.

He massacred my entire clan, calling it "treason."

I only learned the truth as I was dying. That pitiful "saint" was a demon from the Abyss all along.

Now that I'm reborn, watching him sit on that throne makes my skin crawl.

I destroy our engagement in front of everyone and take the entire Seraphim clan with me.

This time, I'm only here to watch him destroy himself.

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.

In the dark underworld, Matthias Sterling is a feared mob boss and the only family I had left after my parents died. I used to be the girl he cherished, until I turned eighteen and confessed my feelings to him.

From that day on, the tenderness in his eyes turned to disgust. He brought home Rose Hartley and threw me away like trash.

In my past life, someone drugged him with a powerful aphrodisiac. I gave myself to him as the cure, only for him to call me a shameless whore. But when I got pregnant, he married me anyway.

On our wedding day, Rose ran to rival territory heartbroken and ended up dead. When he heard the news, he said nothing. Just finished the ceremony.

When I went into labor, he locked me in the house and said coldly, "If it weren't for you, I would've married her. She wouldn't have run to enemy territory and died."

He blamed everything on me. In the end, I died in childbirth. He wouldn't even let anyone call a doctor.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the night that changed everything.

One of my employees went online and dragged me, claiming I'm making them sacrifice their health for a paycheck and forcing everyone to work over Thanksgiving.

Here's what actually happened. My company gives nine days off for Thanksgiving. Volunteer to work overtime, get triple pay, with a $500 daily meal stipend and a $5,000 bonus. No one gets penalized for not working.

The whole internet's tearing into me for making employees sell their lives for cash. So I give her exactly what she wants and send out a company-wide notice:

To protect employee mental health, the building gets locked and the power gets cut over Thanksgiving. No one is allowed to work for any reason. Anyone who does gets fired.

The minute that email goes out, the employees who were counting on overtime to pay their mortgages lose it. Now they're all crowded outside the building, begging me to open the doors.

Elliot Knox and I were in court fighting over custody of our daughter.

In my first life, when the judge asked who she wanted to live with, I heard her thoughts.

Mom looks so sad. Cordelia wants to stay with Mom...

My eyes welled up right there. I signed away half of everything we owned and walked away with nothing else, just to keep her with me.

Three months after I got custody, my sweet, obedient daughter handed the FBI a forged tax fraud document herself.

I spent years in prison with everyone in there gunning for me, and I died coughing up blood on a snowy winter night.

In my second life, I wasn't about to risk it again. I gave custody to Elliot instead.

A few years later, he ended up in the hospital, gravely ill. By the time I got there, he was barely hanging on. He told me:

"It was Cordelia... she's been poisoning my medication..."

I opened my eyes again and found myself back in that courtroom.

That same childish voice went off in my head right on cue, word for word identical to the last two times.

But this time, I looked up and saw Elliot across from me, clearly reborn too, his face full of the same shock and confusion.

So which one of us does she actually want?

Connor Mitchell and I are the golden couple of our industry. Everyone sees him as the devoted husband, always bringing me soup when I work late into the night.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me an expensive diamond necklace and posted something sweet on Instagram. The comments were all variations of the same thing: jealousy.

I used to believe it too.

Until I cut my trip to Europe short and got into that SUV. The passenger seat was set at the wrong angle, too far forward for my height. A contact lens case fell out of the sun visor, and neither of us wears contacts.

When I had my cousin pull the dashcam footage and saw him with his arm around some petite girl getting into the car, the truth hit me. My attentive husband, the one who called me every night I was away, had been using my connections and resources to play successful mentor to a twenty-two-year-old intern.

The irony is, he thinks he's gotten away with it. He has no idea I can see right through every move he makes.

Once rot sets into a perfect marriage, no amount of perfume can hide the stench.

I was the Sinclair family's lost daughter, missing for fifteen years. The day they found me, I thought I'd finally found the home I'd always dreamed of.

I didn't know they only brought me back to keep their other daughter alive. The one with the rare blood disease.

For three years, they drained my blood over and over. Took my bone marrow once.

My birth parents told me, "Eloise is fragile. You're the older sister. Take care of her."

My fiancé said, "You have such a good heart. You wouldn't want to see her suffer, would you?"

Today, I just gave six hundred milliliters of blood. I'm lying here weak in this hospital bed, and I hear them talking outside my door.

"Eloise is getting worse. We should take Aria's kidney now. Give it to her. We can't wait any longer."

That's when I finally understood. I was never their found daughter.

I was inventory. A blood bag. Spare parts waiting to be harvested.

If that's what their love is, I don't want it.

The Enforcement Corps hauled me out of my apartment in the middle of the night and dumped me at the Southside Precinct.

The subordinate I'd trained myself had scratch marks all over her neck and collarbone, and she was shaking so hard she could barely stay on her feet.

The second she saw me, she pointed and started screaming that my mate had raped her.

"Director Cordelia, I've always looked up to you. You can't sic your mate on me just because I disagreed with you in a meeting!"

My brain just went blank. Because I don't have a mate.

Three months after my miscarriage, at the celebration dinner he hosts for my "recovery," he tells his partners in French, "She's just a trophy wife. Doesn't understand basic business."

"What about that new assistant? The twenty-two-year-old?"

"So much smarter," he laughs. "And in bed? Way more exciting."

They think I don't understand. To everyone here, I'm just the stay-at-home wife who gave up her VP position at an investment bank to play house.

They don't know I minored in French. I spent a full year studying abroad at the Sorbonne.

As I lay in the operating room, bleeding out from the miscarriage, he was already seeing her.

Je comprends tout. I understand everything.

Over the champagne and candlelight, I smile at him.

He has no idea this is the last time he'll ever see it.

The night before the SAT, I brought homemade pastries from our bakery to share with the whole class.

The next day, over thirty students collapsed at the testing center. The exam was voided.

I became the target of everyone's rage. My family fell apart. I ended up in a detention cell.

The internet tore me apart. My classmate Lainey Prescott went on camera sobbing, saying all she wanted was for me to own up to what I did.

While I was in detention, I found out my mom had a mental breakdown and jumped off the overpass outside of town.

That same night, I went into the river too. The water was freezing.

When I open my eyes, Lainey is right there. She's holding that same sheet of paper with everyone's signatures, smiling like nothing's wrong, eyes just as calculating as I remember.

I'm back.

And this time, I'm not making anything for anyone.

I just get back from three months of hell on the northern border, dust still on my jacket, when Grandpa's calls start blowing up my phone.

"Seraphina! You need to swing by Black Ridge City and meet your fiancé!"

The old betrothal, arranged before I was even born. The guy is Derek, son of the Black Ridge Pack's Alpha.

I couldn't care less about the engagement, but I owe the elders that much respect.

So I send my unit back to base and head into the city alone, figuring I'll grab a gift and get this over with.

I find a necklace I like at Tears of the Stars, the fanciest jewelry store in town. The sales clerk looks at me like I'm trash. "That necklace runs eight million dollars. You break it, you'll be washing dishes for the rest of your life and still not pay it off."

I'm reaching for my black card when a wall of perfume hits me.

A woman dripping in jewelry storms in with a pack of bodyguards, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "What kind of gutter wolf is this? Keep talking and I'll have someone skin you and turn you into a rug. That necklace is mine. I'm Derek's girl."

I actually laugh, I'm that pissed off. Call up my dear fiancé right there on the spot.

"Derek. Your girl just told me she's going to skin me and make me into a rug."

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

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

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

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

Or so I thought.

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

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

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

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

I fell twelve stories.

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

This time, I'm not saving anyone.

"The contract marriage has expired. You're no longer useful to me," Lucas's cold voice pierced my heart. After three years of devotion, I was nothing but a disposable tool.

Then, he brought her home. Amelia, his cherished true love—and the daughter of the mafia family that slaughtered my parents. She sneered at me, flaunting my mother's stolen sapphire necklace, while Lucas ruthlessly kicked me out, calling me a mere "housekeeper."

My heart shattered entirely, but the tears finally stopped. I signed the divorce papers and walked out into the night.

He thought I was a penniless nobody who would crumble without his wealth. He didn't know my real name was Isabella Sorelli.

When I appeared at a top-tier banquet, flanked by my three wildly protective, billionaire brothers, Lucas's eyes widened in sheer shock. I am the heiress to the city's greatest empire now. You threw me away for a snake, Lucas? Watch me crush her. And when you finally realize what you lost, begging on your knees won't be enough.

On the night of my rebirth, fueled by alcohol and rage, I stumbled into the room of my fiancé’s sworn enemy—and kissed him.

Everyone thinks Atlas is a heartless playboy who toys with women.

Only I know how submissive he can be, and the filthy, dirty things he whispers when he calls me "Baby."

Outside the door, my scumbag ex-fiancé, Knox, was screaming, begging for a second chance.

Inside the door, Atlas’s wandering hands were exploring every inch of my body.

"Be a good girl," he rasped against my ear. "Moan loud enough for him to hear."

The next day, Knox pinned me against the wall, his eyes red with jealousy. "I can do better than him. Choose me, okay?"

I shoved him away coldly. "Too late."

From the moment I was reborn, my goal was to make Knox pay. Why simp for a cheater when I can make him lose his fortune, his reputation, and force him to kneel at my feet?

Atlas smirked, pulling me into his arms. "Choose me. I'll help you destroy him."

My name used to be whispered in fear by dictators. Now, it’s mocked by cheerleaders.

I am—or I was—Phantom. I killed for a living, and I was the best. But my retirement plan was cut short by a sudden darkness I never saw coming.

Fate, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor. I’ve been reincarnated into the body of Raven Martinez, a high school girl with a life so tragic it makes my old job look like a vacation.

Now I have to deal with pop quizzes, teenage hormones, and a hierarchy of bullies who think they run the world.

They pushed the old Raven to her death. But they’re about to learn a very painful lesson: You don't corner a viper unless you're ready to get bitten.

High school is hell. Lucky for me, I'm the devil.

After Alpha King Kaius publicly rejected Elowen, she left his kingdom and never looked back. She had to start over completely - no pack, no family, no one to help her. She built a new life on her own and thought she was safe. But on what should have been a peaceful birthday, she found herself captured by the King's guards and thrown into the castle dungeons. Now they think she's some kind of enemy spy, and she needs to escape before Kaius figures out who she really is and discovers all the secrets she's been hiding. The problem is, she's not the same broken girl who left four years ago, and he's not exactly the same cold bastard who rejected her either. With lives on the line and nowhere left to run, can she get out before everything falls apart?

Elara died on her knees—begging her mate to save her.

Elara, the lowly omega with a forbidden lineage, was rejected and betrayed by the one destined to love her—Alpha Kade of the Silvermoon Pack.

While he watches her being executed, she whispers before she dies. “The Moon will judge you… and I will be her hand.”

Five hundred years later, a girl named Sera was born to humans in a coastal city haunted by memories not her own. Timid, fragile, and cursed with strange dreams of stones and betrayal, she never realises she is part wolf and part witch until she meets Jade—Kade reborn and the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack.

The Moon chose her. And the moon will never forget.

Sera begins to remember everything, and her past life comes to her. She is Elara reborn—and she has returned to make him pay.

She either serves vengeance with a side dish of revenge, or the tide turns and love is given a second chance.

To save my dying sister, I provoked James Smith, the city's most dangerous Mafia Don.

I thought it was a simple transaction, but he pinned me against the wall, his fingers tracing my lips as he whispered dangerously, "Sweetie, since you call me your sugar daddy, then fulfill your obligations. Remember, your first time was mine, and you’ll never escape me in this lifetime."

I believed he was a heartless monster until, facing death, he shoved his only gun into my hands and placed his ring around my neck. "Ella, run! Hide and wait for me..."

As his black SUV drifted into the gunfire to draw them away, I was left trembling. Would he make it back alive to claim me again?

I came to Warton Academy to find my mother. I stayed for the boy who breathes fire.

He’s the school’s pariah, a Dragon shifter with a temper as hot as his flames. Everyone says he’s evil. Everyone says to stay away. But when a pack of werewolves attacks me in the dorm hallway, it’s George who saves me. It’s George who looks at me like I’m the only thing worth protecting in this cruel world.

Our romance is a secret, a spark in the dark. But someone on campus knows my secret too.

They know I’m not just a witch. They know I’m something rarer.

With George by my side, I’m ready to decode the mystery of my past and prove that even a "nobody" can tame a Dragon Prince.

Three years ago, Ye Chen was the unrivaled genius of the Azure Cloud Sect—until the woman he loved betrayed him, shattered his dantian, and stole his Spiritual Bone to climb higher. Cast into the Spirit Beast Stables as a cripple, he is beaten, starved, and forgotten.

But when his blood awakens an ancient ring, everything changes.

The Supreme Overlord System binds to his soul, repairing his body and granting him heaven-defying power. In mere breaths, he reclaims lost cultivation. In a single night, he crushes his first enemy.

The sect believes he is trash.

They are about to witness the birth of a god.

And Ye Chen has a debt to collect.

I thought ten years of childhood sweethearts could weather any storm.

Until that night when Charles rushed out after her call, leaving me alone in bed with his child growing inside me, not knowing how to tell him.

Seraphina Blackwood, tech dynasty heiress, threatened Charles with her father's billion-dollar empire to marry her. And me? Just an orphan girl who seemed to mean nothing in Silicon Valley's power games.

When I watched him remove our wedding ring, when I saw their sweet photos at the hospital, when I lay bleeding on the floor and he chose her... I finally understood that maybe love really can't survive against money.

But what I didn't know was that while I started my new life in Switzerland, there was a man secretly protecting me with his kidney, his heart, his everything...

Until his assistant appeared at my little bakery, desperation in his eyes: "Ms. Thorne, please, you have to save him!"

At the board meeting, he voted to dilute my equity.

"This is business, Elena. Not personal."

Three years of hidden marriage. I thought we were partners. But in that moment, I finally understood—I was just his technical supplier on the road to success.

What Ryan didn't know: that Technology Contribution Agreement he signed three years ago contained one clause. 70% of NexTech's core algorithm IP belongs to me. Personally.

Product launch day. Two hundred investors watching. I took the microphone.

He thought I'd present the tech specs like always.

He was wrong.

Dante Ashford is my stepbrother, and the one person I should never have fallen in love with.

When I was ten, my parents died saving his family. The Ashfords took me in. He was good to me back then. Somewhere along the way, I fell for him.

When I was eighteen, he nearly died in an ambush. I donated blood, then a kidney to save him. I was unconscious for three days. When I woke up, Vivian Ross sat by his bed—and he believed she was his savior.

After that, he pushed me away. Vivian became his fiancée.

In my past life, Vivian's crimes brought disaster to our family. Dante got on his knees and begged me to take her punishment. I refused. She died anyway. Then he pretended to love me, planned our wedding—and on that day, his assistant announced to everyone: "This wedding was a lesson to show Miss Elena Hayes what it feels like to be abandoned by the whole world."

I jumped from the church balcony.

When I opened my eyes, I was back at that moment—him on his knees, begging.

This time, I said yes.

Dante, from now on, we're done.

My father died owing the Callahan family a blood debt. His payment? Me and my sister—married off to their sons.

I woke up reborn on the night they buried him.

Standing in that funeral chamber, watching the lawyer crack open the sealed will, I discovered I could suddenly hear thoughts. My sister Vivienne's voice ripped through my head: Not marrying that butcher. No way in hell.

She lunged forward and grabbed Adrian—the refined bastard son who looked like a lawyer instead of a mobster. The same "perfect gentleman" I married in my past life.

Which left me with Dominic Callahan. The scarred heir. The Executioner.

Last time around, Vivienne married Dominic and got beaten down for years. I married Adrian and lived like a queen.

I almost laughed out loud.

Because she has no idea—this time, she's the one who grabbed the monster.

Everyone in this city knows that the king of the underworld, my husband Vincent, is crazy about me.

Three years ago, when that bullet tore through my abdomen, it took away my chance of ever being a mother. He held my blood-soaked body and swore to God he'd make the shooter's entire family pay. A month later, that family was wiped off the map in this city. No one dares speak their name anymore.

He sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand. "I don't need kids. I only need you."

I believed him.

Until six months ago, when his brother died in an accident, leaving behind his wife Serena. The family pressure came like a tidal wave. An heir. A bloodline. That's all they cared about. And that woman became everyone's golden ticket to keeping the Caruso name alive.

That's when my husband stopped coming home at night. Every night, I hear them through the wall. Sounds that used to be mine.

But today, the doctor told me my body is healing. The chances are slim, but there's hope.

I clutch the medical report and rush home, imagining Vincent's face when he sees the results. Maybe everything can go back to how it was. Maybe he'll realize he doesn't need her.

Until I stand outside our mansion and hear laughter pouring out.

"Serena's pregnant! Can you believe it? The family finally has an heir!"

"Finally. The family's saved."

I thought I'd signed up for an immersive dating show.

Turns out it was a 99.9% death rate, globally livestreamed horror game.

And me? Half-blind without my contacts, desperate to go viral, I somehow talk my way through a death game like it's a romance.

I mistook blood for ketchup, human eyeballs for sashimi, a murderous child ghost for a kid who just needed some love.

Worst part? I fell for the guy running the place, the one who could kill you without blinking, and tried to get his number within the hour.

My teammate hissed at me, shaking. "You wanna die, fine, just don't take us with you!"

I just waved him off. It's a dating show. Relax.

The day I died in a foreign country, my boyfriend was in the spotlight with another woman.

He's the man I built from nothing. Five years ago, I saved a broke orphan fresh out of college from the gutter. He said he wanted to be famous, wanted to make it to the top of the hockey world. In exchange, he became my boyfriend for five years.

I gave him the best coaching staff money could buy. Bought an entire hockey franchise and made him the centerpiece. Called in every favor I had to make him MVP.

But while he enjoyed everything I gave him, he refused to make our relationship public. Said it would "hurt his brand." He could make headlines with reporters and models, but nobody could know I existed.

He even said on national TV: "Those owners who just throw money around are pretty boring. Hockey is about skill, not money."

So why did he lose his mind when he found out I was dead?

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

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

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

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

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

Father calls me and Chloe into his study, and two documents already sit on the desk. On the left, the Whitfield family succession papers. On the right, the marriage agreement with the Sullivan family.

He lights a cigar, the smoke half hiding his face. "You two need to make a choice today. One of you takes over the Whitfield family. The other marries Derek Sullivan."

In my last life, Chloe took the succession papers.

She sat down in Father's office, put on an expensive suit, called in every department head, and announced she'd make the Whitfield family stronger. But she couldn't even read a warehouse ledger, didn't know which shipping route mattered most, couldn't tell flattery from threats in a family meeting.

Within three years, the south warehouse burned down, the north route slipped out of our hands, and cash kept bleeding out of the books like there was a hole in them.

Father died on a dark street, three bullets in his chest.

Chloe fled with whatever money was left, and I got married off to Derek instead.

After the wedding, he took my passport and locked me in the basement of the Sullivan estate. When I refused to sign the transfer documents, he had them cut off my water for three days straight. In family meetings, one wrong word out of me and he'd slap me in front of everyone. During an ambush, he shoved me right into the line of fire.

Later, Chloe found me. She pointed a gun at my chest, and there wasn't a trace of sisterly feeling left in her eyes. "This is all because you're useless. If you'd helped Derek keep the Sullivan family steady, Whitfield wouldn't have gone under."

I opened my eyes in a pool of blood and woke up back on this day.

The alliance between the Human Empire and the Wolf Empire has stood for centuries. The treaty requires the Human Empire to send a princess to the Wolf Empire every so often, to become the Wolf King's mate and strengthen the bond between our kingdoms. Now, it's time to honor that pact again.

Father is old now, ready to step down. My sister and I have to choose.

In my past life, Adelaide chose the throne. She thought power meant she could do whatever she wanted. Within three years, the Human Empire crumbled in her hands. At home, she bled the people dry, filling her own coffers while they starved. Abroad, her arrogance drove away our allies. The Dwarven Empire, the Serpent Empire, they all cut ties. In the end, the surrounding kingdoms banded together and attacked. The Human Empire fell in the war. Our parents died by enemy blades, and Adelaide had to flee.

And me? I went to the Wolf Empire, just like the treaty said.

On the surface, I was the Wolf Queen, worshipped by every wolf, living in the grand Wolf Court, attending state banquets. In reality, I was his prisoner. Forced to run as prey in the hunting ritual, slapped to the ground in front of the council, shoved forward as a hostage when conflicts arose.

At one banquet, Adelaide appeared in front of me, gripping a dagger, madness burning in her eyes. "This is your fault! If you hadn't been so useless in the Wolf Empire, we wouldn't have lost everything!"

The blade sank into my chest. I collapsed in a pool of blood.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the throne room with Father watching us.

Adelaide barely hesitates before speaking up. "I'll go to the Wolf Empire. Let Brynn take the throne."

I smile.

Foolish Adelaide. She has no idea that beneath the Queen's crown lies nothing but chains and blood.

One snide comment from my worst enemy, and I dropped eighty million gold coins on a custom golem built to look exactly like him.

My requirements were simple: same face, same body, and a personality that's submissive, obedient, and takes whatever I dish out without fighting back.

I've had that insufferable face fetching me coffee, rubbing my feet, massaging my shoulders, even wearing a maid outfit.

Watching him bow and scrape for me finally lets out most of the resentment I've been carrying.

Then tonight, the workshop sends a message out of nowhere:

[Due to a shortage of high-purity mithril, your custom golem needs another month to complete. Thank you for your patience.]

I look over at the man kneeling by the couch, rubbing my legs.

So who exactly have I been treating like a dog for the past two months?

My beast companions are in the middle of my medicinal soak when a soft, dramatic little "ow" drifts in from outside.

Vex, my wolfkin companion, drops my leg. Brom, the bearkin, jerks his hand and a fortune's worth of elixir spills into the water.

They crash through the floor-to-ceiling window and bolt outside without a single glance back — all for some ordinary girl.

I'm still staring at the broken glass when a stream of glowing blue text pops up out of nowhere.

[The main character Ivy literally fake-tripped in the garden and these two idiots jumped out a window for her!]
[Honestly, the original side character Lillia had it so rough. Backstabbed by her own companions, dies a miserable death, and they end up in Ivy's entourage…]
[And she never even figures out what's happening. Just suffers through the whole thing without a clue.]

I read through all of it, and one thought slowly rises: seriously?

If my companions won't behave, just get new ones. Simple.

I go straight to my mom, and before I've even finished talking, she's already pulling me toward the door.

"Any beast that turns on its master isn't worth keeping. Come on, baby — let's go pick you out some new ones. Mom's paying, so make it the most expensive ones they've got."

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.