260 Book(s) Related to he jiaying

Evelyn Vale plans weddings, memorials, and private family ceremonies for people who care too much about how grief looks on camera. She knows lighting, timing, guest flow, and the hidden machinery behind a perfect public moment.

Then one night, while sitting beside the husband who kisses her goodnight, she sees a livestream event scheduled for tomorrow: her own memorial service.

The cover uses her mourning portrait. Grant, her husband, is posed as the devastated widower. Serena, her half sister, stands beside him like a woman already rehearsing the role of replacement wife.

At first Evelyn wants it to be a mistake. Then the invoices appear. The funeral campaign is paid for. The backend record existed. Someone with internal clearance created it, deleted it, and expected Evelyn to die before the broadcast.

Julian Cross, a former livestream safety investigator disgraced by an old death case, is the first person who treats Evelyn's fear as evidence. Together they follow the countdown through funeral contracts, planted comments, medical manipulation, board pressure, platform corruption, and a hidden operator using public grief as a business model.

But Evelyn is not waiting to be rescued. She knows how to build an event. She knows where witnesses should stand, when a microphone should stay open, and how a lie collapses when the room sees the right proof at the right time.

Grant scheduled the funeral.

Evelyn hosts it better.

After three years of marriage, the first thing my husband did upon waking from his vegetative state was to humiliate me for my stepsister. I once thought that my three years of devoted care would earn me a shred of his affection, only to discover that he had always loved the woman who stole everything from me including my identity. For her sake, he forced me to leave with nothing and had me blacklisted throughout the city.

But what they didn't know was that the woman they discarded like a piece of trash would shed her apron and become a legendary racer who struck fear into the hearts of the entire racing world. When my husband's archrival extended an olive branch to me, this game of revenge began—who will ultimately be the winner?

Everyone at Crestwood High knows Jaxon Reed’s reputation.
Bad boy. Trouble. Walking red flag.

So when he asks Ellie Marrow out—quiet, rule-following, and painfully invisible—it’s obvious to everyone that it has to be a joke.

Except Ellie knows the truth.

Jaxon made a bet. A stupid, reckless one. And she’s the prize.

Instead of saying no, Ellie makes a choice no one expects: she agrees to fake date him—for her own reasons. With rules. Boundaries. And an expiration date. What starts as pretending quickly turns complicated as Ellie sees the side of Jaxon no one else does.

As rumors spread and lines blur, Ellie must decide who she wants to be when she stops playing it safe. And Jaxon has to face the truth about himself—and the damage a single lie can cause.

Because when pretending feels this real, someone is bound to get hurt.

Ella is betrayed in her 25th birthday by her boyfriend, leading to a one-night stand at a bar. She Initially mistaking Eric for just a call boy, later, she discovers that he is actually an Alpha of a pack, leading to an unwanted pregnancy. She ran away without a trace, bearing and taking care of the twins alone. It's later turned out to be an interesting romance. What happens when Eric discover that the twins are actually his? Will Ella forgive Eric for betraying her?

Lydia has been abused by her foster parents, but the wolves of the pack are deceived by the hypocritical pair, believing that Lydia is a bad girl who does not know how to repay her kindness.
Just when Lydia was about to be given to the pack elders by her foster mother, she found out that Elvis, the next Alpha of the pack, was actually her mate.But unfortunately, Elvis disliked and rejected her to be his mate.
Desperate Lydia jumped off the cliff, but was saved by her own mother, the Alpha of Glory Pack, and the other party wanted her to become the wolf pack's heir....... At this time, Elvis, who rejected her, also came looking for her and wanted to take her away. How would Lydia choose?

As the Chief Delta of Alpha Hunter and his secretly married wife, Kara had always hoped that her dedication would eventually win his heart.
However, everything changed when that rogue girl—Maya—appeared. She is Hunter's Fated mate.
According to their pre-marriage agreement, once Hunter finds his true mate, their marriage will be over.
Just then, Kara discovers that she's pregnant...

Sienna Cole has the perfect life.

She is the girl everyone watches and nobody really knows and she has worked very hard to keep it that way.

Until Jax Reeves walks into Westfield High, He doesn't talk much neither does he even try to impress anyone. And he looks at Sienna like he can see every single thing she is hiding behind her perfect smile.

She is not interested. She says so loudly. Multiple times. To anyone who will listen.

So when her best friend Chloe asks permission to pursue him, Sienna says yes without blinking.

It is the worst decision she has ever made.

Because the moment she watches Jax look at Chloe the way Sienna secretly wanted him to look at her, something inside her snaps clean in half. Now she is lying to her boyfriend, sabotaging her best friend's relationship, and slowly falling apart in front of the only six people in the world she truly loves.

The question is will Sienna finally tell the truth before she loses everything?

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

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.

After my miscarriage, my psychiatrist husband offered to erase the painful memories to help me forget them.

During the three months I was dumped in a rehab facility, he took our daughter and his cousin on a European vacation.

Now that they're back, he assumes I’ll go right back to being that meticulous, perfect wife.

But I didn't.

He deliberately provokes me, thinking my coldness is just me playing hard to get.

He has no idea that the brainwashing procedure didn't just wash away my pain—it completely severed my love for him.

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 loved Julian for ten years, carving every sweat-stained day into my love for him.
He once said I shined brighter than any gold medal.
Yet in five short minutes, he handed my dream, my glory, and my whole world to a scheming transfer girl.
Betrayed, discarded, and broken on the fencing strip, I lost my first love and everything I fought for.
Until the retired cold Olympic champion stepped out of the dark midnight shadows.
He offered me hellish training and a sharp blade of revenge.
I buried my soft heart, handed over my soul, and vowed to make every traitor pay.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband, Caleb, was sleeping with his student.
That night, I spiked his Pinot Noir with poison. I watched him collapse, convulse, and take his agonizing last breath. Then, I dragged his body into the basement and sealed it inside an oak wine barrel.
For five years, I raised our daughter, Nora, on my own. I thought the secret would rot in the dark forever.
Until she told me: Daddy speaks to her from under the floorboards every night. His voice sounds muffled, like he’s talking through a thick blanket...

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!"

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

“How cruel of you! You were the one who left when I was ready to fight for you. I searched the world for you, and now that I found you, you were betrothed to another man. Tell me how! How do I unlove you?”
Tears fall from both our eyes and the next thing we know, we are kissing each other, deeply and passionately, as if the two years of longingness for each other has finally been released.
_
Avery Anderson called "Ava" who is still a virgin in her early thirties is a career-oriented woman. She puts up her own business through her hard work and is envied by a lot of women because of her seven-year-long relationship with Seigfried Cohen, a hot bachelor in an accounting firm. Their relationship starts to fall apart as they get into a heated argument because of Ava's unfathomable sexual drive.
Determined to lose her virginity, she travels to Austria to unwind and get laid to whoever finds her attractive. There, she encounters a guy named Dmitri, a gorgeous sexy billionaire: an encounter that shouldn't have happened in the first place.
She will then, know a world, that she never expects to get addicted to.

Aurelia has spent three years in a loveless marriage, holding on to a man who was already slipping away. She thinks it can't get worse until his first love returns.
He divorces her without hesitation. He doesn't know she's pregnant. Alone, heartbroken, and with nowhere to go, Aurelia is hit by a car.
She wakes up to three powerful billionaire brothers claiming her as their long-lost sister, and they take her away from the life that broke her.
Five years later, Aurelia is no longer the woman he abandoned. She runs AURELIA, a global luxury fashion empire. Untouchable, cold, and emotionally closed off.
So when her ex-husband walks back into her life, begging for another chance, she doesn't hesitate. "Unless it's business, you don't exist to me."
And when he discovers he has a son, he tries to claim him. The child looks at him without recognition and says, "My father is dead. I only have my mummy and my uncles."
For the first time, Dominic is forced to face the full weight of what he lost. Now, the man who once threw her away is the one begging to stay. But Aurelia doesn't believe in second chances. And this time, walking away might not be his choice.

My husband handed me divorce papers at 2 AM—right after he'd had his way with me. Three years of marriage, and he never once believed I was anything but a scheming woman who trapped him. He said he wanted his real love back. I said I wanted our daughter.
He laughed and told me I couldn't afford to raise her alone.
He was right about one thing: I needed money. So I took the only job that could change everything. He showed up at the presentation as the client. When he saw my work, his face went pale. He accused me of plagiarizing a famous designer—the very genius who had saved his company years ago.
He has no idea.
That genius is me.
And he's about to find out exactly who he just let go.

Will a man learn to love me if I’m good to him long enough?

I tried for seven years to warm his heart.
I thought if I just held on a little longer, he’d finally see me.
Because I loved him so deeply.

But what did I get in return?
His endless tenderness for another woman.
I pretended I didn’t care, until pneumonia landed me in the hospital.

On the day I was discharged, I found him standing there with our daughter, his whole world focused on caring for that woman.
Even my daughter, whom I’d raised with everything I had, wished that woman was her mother.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I left the divorce papers, gave up custody, and walked back into the chemical industry.
So what if seven years of marriage had worn me down?
I was still the top genius in my field.

But the divorce I’d wanted so badly never went through.
The man who once couldn’t have been colder to me now held on to me tighter than ever.
Our daughter refused to leave my side.

When he found my divorce papers,
the always cold and arrogant man pushed me against the wall and growled:

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

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

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

My neighbor Beck Morrow was the best high school point guard this state had seen in years.
The night before the state championship—three college scouts in the stands—he decided to stay home with his girlfriend instead. She wasn't feeling well.
I called his coach.
He played. He got the scholarship. He built a company worth eight figures before he turned thirty, and I spent five years writing every algorithm that company ran on.
He repaid me by throwing a ball at my head during a training session. Then his lawyers sent a letter explaining that I had no legal claim to any intellectual property developed under my employment contract, effective immediately, and that my position was being terminated.
Then I woke up. It was the first week of senior year again.

I was dying — and he was loving someone else.
I left.
Now he wants me back… but will I let him?

Omega Lyra, once betrothed to Alpha Kyle, is forced to sew his new Luna’s wedding dress.
On the wedding eve, an out-of-control Kyle violates her; the chaos that follows kills the bride, and Lyra is falsely branded a murderer.
Kyle binds Lyra as his nominal Luna to torment her—for three years, she endures mockery and isolation, finding solace only in late-night piano playing.
His coldness and closeness to the late Luna’s sister Rhea shatter her hope.
Humiliated at Kyle’s birthday banquet, Lyra demands to end their bond.
Fleeing, she awakens hidden Alpha powers but is attacked by rogues—Beta Darren, who secretly cares for her, saves her.
Now, Lyra must evade Kyle’s family, find her lost sister, and fight for a place in the wolf world, turning her painful escape into a journey of redemption.

He filled my head with lies.
Then he set my world on fire.

Gavril Vaknin.
Richer than God.
Crueler than the devil.

And if he has his way…
My new fake husband.

A chance meeting turns into a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
The billionaire don needs a blank slate to turn into his perfect politician’s wife.
I’m homeless and desperate—what do I have to lose?

But Gavril is hiding secrets. Cloaked in lies.
Stepping into his world is a one-way ticket to a hell I won’t survive.

Did I do the right thing?
Or did I just sell my soul to a monster?

On the anniversary of my mother's death, Thomas promised he'd come pay his respects with me. I waited at the cemetery all day, only to see media reports of him vacationing with his first love.

Everyone assumed Thomas had a secret child with her. That they were about to get married.

And me? His actual wife?

I went home, left the divorce papers on the table, and burned our marriage certificate.

The first thing they took was my baby.

The second was my parents.

The third was my freedom, my eyes, and every reason to live.

My husband gave me to three men on our anniversary. He chained me in a doghouse while his mistress laughed. He fed me my own son’s remains and called it mercy.

He said I was dirty. He said I deserved it.

But the DNA test he trusted was a lie. The video was staged. And the woman he’s about to marry is the one who destroyed us all.

I tried to die. Four times.

Now I’m done trying.

They put a dead woman in the ground. They’re about to find out she brought hell back with her.

She woke up naked, bound, and on display in a birdcage.

Her husband sat in the front row while strangers bid on her unborn son's organs. He believed the video. The DNA test. The other woman's lies.

They took her baby. They took her mother. They tried to take her mind.

So she let them think she was broken. She smiled through the electric shocks. She bent without breaking. She counted down to the surgery that was supposed to kill her.

But she wasn't counting down to her death.

She was counting down to theirs.

They wanted her heart?

She'll give it to them—still beating, as she becomes their judge, jury, and executioner.

Dark Revenge Romance. CW: non-con, graphic violence, pregnancy loss, captivity. Read with caution.

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

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

Twenty-one times.

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

And dissolved it twenty-one times.

Not because we didn't love each other.

But because every few months, she comes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until the twenty-first time.

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

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

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

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

No heartbeat.

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

Not once.

The twenty-first dissolution was my choice.

There won't be a twenty-second.

I died on the day my fiancé Song Jinnian got engaged to his white moonlight, Shen Zhiyi.

Shen Zhiyi wore the evening dress designed by Song Jinnian himself, smiling sweetly as she linked her arm through his, accepting blessings from every guest in the hall.

I was at the scene of a car crash on Highway 23, half a steel rebar piercing straight through my chest. Warm blood trickled down the cold metal, pooling into a stark, glaring red pool beneath me.

I called Song Jinnian seventeen times.

He hung up instantly on the first sixteen.

On the seventeenth ring, he finally answered.

The melodic music of the banquet hall hummed in the background. His voice was low, laced with unbridled impatience: “What’s your problem now? How many times do I have to say it—marrying Zhiyi is just a formality. Can’t you act your age and quit this nonsense?”

I tried to speak, but blood froth surged up my throat, stealing my ability to form a full sentence. All I heard was the busy tone as he hung up without a second thought, echoing in the empty car, one beep at a time, shattering my last shred of hope.

Song Jinnian would never know that the girl he dismissed as a spoiled, tantrum-throwing lady was pinned to the driver’s seat by that steel rebar.

Beneath my slightly bulging abdomen lay our two-month-old unborn child.

Trembling, I let go of the phone soaked in blood. With my final ounce of strength, I dialed the funeral home.

“Hello. Near Highway 23… please come collect a body from a car crash.”

A pause came from the other end, followed by the routine question:

“Who are you to the deceased?”

All around me, only the rain hammered against the car windows, and my breath grew fainter and fainter. I forced out my last words:

“I am… the deceased herself.”

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.

The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.

Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.

Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.

Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."

The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.

He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."

"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."

Even my son took her side.

"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"

But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.

When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."

I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.

"I'm dying."

In my past life, I exposed my cousin Isolde's deadly secret just to save Darius from absolute ruin, binding myself to him in a Soul Pact instead.

My reward?

At three months pregnant, Darius chained me to a water dungeon altar, carved my stomach open alive, and smashed our unborn child to pieces right in front of my eyes—all as a twisted sacrifice to my cousin who supposedly "died for love."

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the Pact Selection Ceremony.

Watching him pull her into his arms like some priceless treasure, I simply smiled and took a tactful step back.

In this life, I am going to sit back and watch the two of them burn in hell together.

For years, I believed a rival family had stolen my children. Four of them — two baby boys, then my newborn twins. Every time, my husband wept. He swore revenge. He held me while I screamed myself sick.
Tonight I went down to the basement looking for him. The door was open a crack. He was kissing another woman.
"I threw both incubators off the cliff myself," he laughed. "Didn't even blink."
He killed all four. To clear a path for his mistress's son.
He runs the family now. He thinks grief has broken me — that I'll spend the rest of my life crying in the bed we shared.
He forgot one thing. I'm the old don's daughter. This family was never his.
It's mine.

They called me a hellcat. A she-wolf tyrant. The Luna who made her Alpha husband obey.
I held him together when his father died. Built his dying pack into a powerhouse while he flirted with she-wolves.
Then he brought home his "fated mate."
Everyone waited for me to explode.
Instead, I smiled. "I'll help you prepare the ceremony."
That's when my wolf—dormant for years—began to wake.

Five years of a marriage forced by family convenience end in the cruelest way possible: with a request for divorce on the same day they would celebrate their anniversary. Lilian, devastated by Ethan's rejection—the man she learned to love despite the circumstances—sees her life fall apart. In her darkest hour, when the pain seems unbearable, Lilian is saved by Daniel Spector, a longtime friend and silent confidant who has always loved her. At the hospital, news changes everything: Lilian is two months pregnant. But there is another woman, Joana Mercadante — rich, famous, and supposedly also expecting Ethan's child. With her heart broken and her soul on fire, Lilian decides to leave. She flees to France and, far from the eyes of the world, gives birth to her son and builds an empire. Five years later, she returns as a powerful woman, determined to face her demons... and she finds Ethan again. He never stopped looking for her, never forgot the love he destroyed with his own hands. Now he must fight not only for forgiveness, but for a second chance—with her and with the son he never knew. But will regret be enough to rebuild a love that was betrayed? Especially when Daniel, Ethan's new rival, is ready to build the life Lilian always dreamed of... and is already the father in her son's heart?

Elsie Clarke spent three years in a secret marriage, and just as long in cold, silent separation. As their third anniversary approached, she still held on, foolishly hoping her love could melt her husband's frozen heart.

But all she received was a call from his private club. His voice was indifferent. “You wanted to see me? Bring a condom.”

That was the moment everything shattered. The marriage she had clung to was nothing but an empty shell, and she was finally ready to let it go.

But just as she turned away, he began to chase her with reckless desperation. The man who once ignored her now couldn’t bear to let her go.

Five years ago, Rebecca Percy gave up everything to marry into the powerful Spencer Family.

She spent five years as a devoted wife and mother, only for her husband to sacrifice her to a financial tycoon for a business contract, leaving her to be abused and broken. Her heart turned to ash.

"Rebecca, you are nothing but a breeding machine. Without the Spencer Family, you are nobody! You want a divorce? Fine. But don't you dare regret it!"

But outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the ex-husband who had just threatened her watched in shock.

He saw her holding the divorce certificate, embraced by another man, and felt a burning jealousy—and a sudden, hollow emptiness in his heart.

Rebecca swore that from now on, she would focus only on her career, not love.

Yet, she found herself pinned on a vanity table by the young Master Whitaker.

As he relentlessly claimed her, he demanded:

"So, Rebecca... you think I'm just a fuck buddy, is that it?"

"...I gave your wedding dress to Elise." Julian said.
"What...Did you say?" I asked, just to be sure I didn't hear wrong.
"Elise," he said again, "I gave her the dress."
"And why would you even do that?" I snapped in anger.
"We've been talking, okay?" He rubbed his temples, trying to explain "She told me she wants her last wish to be getting married before she passes to me. So...I thought this, as the right thing to do."
The words exploded out of me like a volcano.
"How could you do something like this without asking me first? That's my dress, Julian! For our wedding, that's in two days!"


For many years I gave up my dreams and my youth to bring Julian back from the edge of death. We were legally bound in a secret ceremony, waiting for the day he could finally stand beside me at the altar.
But on the day of our wedding, the dress I made for myself was on my stepsister, and the man I called my husband was leading her to the priest.
With nothing left but a broken heart, I made a deal with the one man Julian feared, Sebastian Hale.
He is cold, dangerous, and the most powerful billionaire in the city. He offers me protection, wealth, and revenge, but in his world nothing is free.

Isadora Bellini spent her entire life living in the shadow of her twin sister, Giulia—but nothing hurt more than the moment their childhood best friend and her fated mate, Capo Lorenzo, chose Giulia over her. Shattered and humiliated, Isadora disappeared from the Luna Nera Clan, carving out a quiet life among humans. Eight years later, she’s dragged back to the one place she promised never to return—for Giulia’s funeral. What begins as a painful farewell quickly spirals into a storm of secrets, guilt, and dangerously unresolved emotions.
Lorenzo isn’t the same confident Capo who once broke her heart—he’s grieving, broken, and searching for answers. But so is Isadora. As truths begin to unravel—about Giulia’s betrayal, Lorenzo’s rejection, and a past that refuses to stay buried—Isadora finds herself caught between the scars of yesterday and the pull of a bond she tried to erase.
In a world where fate is sealed by blood and moonlight, and love can be the sharpest weapon of all… will Isadora risk everything to uncover the truth, or let her pain write the ending for her?
When love feels like betrayal, how do you trust what your heart still wants?

“Go find one of those perfect little she-wolves lined up to mate you. Play your Alpha card on them. I’m sure they’ll beg to be marked..maybe they’ll even let you f—”

“Seliene!” he snapped, his voice a roar as he grabbed my wrist.

“Stop touching me!” I shoved at his chest, voice rising despite the sting in my throat. “Stop acting like you care when all you've ever done is hate me!”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “There are plenty of men who would take me to bed without second-guessing it. Maybe I should let them. Maybe I should—”

His hand tangled in my hair so fast I gasped, and the next thing I knew, my back was against the wall.

Ronan’s eyes were glowing now—not just anger, but something else. Something deeper. His wolf was there, right under the surface, growling low and dangerous.

“Oh?” I taunted, my body betraying me with a subtle tremble of arousal. “What is this? You don’t want me, but no one else should touch me either?”

His growl deepened, vibrating between us, and then his mouth crashed down on mine.

I moaned before I could stop myself, and that only seemed to provoke him further. He pressed harder, his body pinning mine, every inch of him demanding, claiming.

He groaned into my mouth, his thigh sliding between mine and pressing upward. I gasped, my head hitting the wall as pleasure sparked through me.

“Don’t want to touch you?” he growled against my lips. “I want you with every damn breath.”


Seliene, a fierce half-breed hiding heartbreak behind a defiant tongue, and Ronan, the brooding Alpha who once rejected her, ignite in a moment of raw passion and buried longing. Bound by a mate bond they both try to resist, their chemistry is undeniable, dangerous, explosive, and edged with the pain of a love neither dares to admit.

At first, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world, at least maybe the sacrifices I had made over the past five years would pay off.
But I was wrong. I was just a replacement for Luna, whom no one ever wanted.
I was abandoned by Alpha, my husband, on our fifth wedding anniversary, for the woman who had left him.
What hurt even more was that the child I had raised with all my heart and soul ran into the arms of her biological mother, as if I had never meant anything to his.
Rejected, discarded, and cast out-all of it destroyed me. It felt as if the whole world had rejected me.
But just when I was about to disappear, fate brought me to the beginning of a resurrection I never imagined.

I kept a list. Ninety-eight times my husband chose another woman over me.

Missed birthdays, ruined anniversaries, broken promises—all for his "patient" Sophia, who seemed to have a medical emergency every time we had plans.

"It's just my job, Emma," he would say. "You understand."

Ryan thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He was wrong.

After an incident, I was determined to leave him, and before I left, I gave him an unforgettable "gift."

I had a childhood arranged marriage with the Mu family. My unreliable dad just tossed me a New York address and told me to go inherit the company there.

They only broke the news to me after my plane touched down in New York: I could take over the family business only if I went through with the marriage.

I followed the address, only to be led winding through the streets by the men at the gate and taken to an abandoned construction site.

Along the way, the man guiding me feigned sympathy: “The Mu Group went bankrupt two years ago. They sold their house and company to pay off debts, yet still owe a fortune in loan sharks. Debt collectors hound him every day, and he always brings them here to talk. He works an office job by day and fights in underground boxing matches for cash by night—his life is nothing short of miserable.”

Hardly had he finished speaking when I heard the harsh clanging of steel pipes. A devastatingly handsome man was grappling with a dozen men, a steel pipe gripped in his hand.

His features were sharp, his jaw clenched tight. Blood trickled down his cheek from his temple, mixing with dust, carving out an air of broken ferocity about him.

Hell no—they’re picking on my future husband right in front of me?

The guide tried to say more, but I, a die-hard sucker for good looks, grabbed a steel bar beside me and charged straight in.

The brawlers froze for a split second at my sudden appearance, then plunged back into the fight.

Mu Qingye threw every punch with reckless brutality, and I, a multiple-time taekwondo champion, was no pushover either.

Once we’d chased the debt collectors off, I tossed the steel bar aside and watched Mu Qingye lean against the wall, gasping for breath.

His clothes were frayed and faded, and the bandage on his right leg was soaked through with blood, a glaring, vivid red.

He sat on the ground, lifted his eyelids to glance at me sideways, his eyes as cold as ice.

I stared at his outrageously handsome face, my heart racing wildly: “I’m Meng Shixia. Do you remember me? I—”

“I don’t know you.” He cut me off abruptly, staggered to his feet by leaning on the wall, and shot me another cold glance. “Stay out of my business.”

Ten years loving Liam Rockefeller cost me everything.

He said the football team jumped him—so I charged in and took the punches. He sobbed that his stepbrother would destroy him at Yale—so I ripped up my acceptance letter. He held me at midnight whispering "I'm so lucky to have you"—and I thought that meant forever.

Three months later, I heard him laughing in the locker room—laughing about me.

"Iris is like a fucking puppy, so easy to fool. Now that the Yale spot's open, Emily can go with me."

The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces—just tools to control me while he fucked his side piece.

He thought I'd still stand in front of him even with a broken nose. He thought I'd never wise up.

I wised up.

In his stepbrother Sebastian's bed.

Three years ago, I took a bullet for Damon Kingsley. It came within half an inch of my heart.

He looked me in the eyes, his own red, and swore he'd love me for the rest of his life. So I married into this century-old Italian-American Mafia dynasty.

But on our wedding night, the moment he touched me, he convulsed, coughed up blood, and collapsed.

The second time, an old condition flared up and kept him flat on his back for a month.

The third time, he nearly bled out.

Every time after that, the same thing.

The whole family called me a curse. Marked. Bad luck. The kind of woman who brings death to whoever gets close.

The Godmother gave me an ultimatum: get pregnant within a month, or sign the divorce papers and be shipped off to Chicago to marry the devil himself.

I was carrying a fertility tonic to his study, ready to beg him one more time, when I heard voices through the door.

"Mr. Kingsley, please, you gotta stop. Every time you don't wanna go near her, you shoot yourself up with that stuff. You're gonna kill yourself."

Damon was quiet for a long moment. Then, calm and flat: "Aurora is the only woman I love. I'd take the pain any day over touching her."

All this time, while the whole family called me a curse, the one who actually put it on me was the man I almost died for.

Damon Kingsley. After today, we're done. In this life or the next, don't ever cross my path again.