2467 Book(s) Related to love me if you dare story

"What is the meaning of this?" I questioned still in disbelief. Where had it all gone wrong? We were happy, he respected me and so did I...I even fell in love with him so how could he do this to me?
"It's exactly what it says in the paper, Ciara"
"And what is that?" I stubbornly inquired.
Ryan had uttered those words I so desperately dreaded,"I want a divorce, Ciara"
Ciara is the heiress to her father's company but she left all of that to be in a contract marriage with Ryan. It was supposed to be a 'no-strings-attached' kind of feeling but, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Just when she wanted to start a clean slate on their first anniversary, she was handed a divorce paper.
Ryan is a billionaire and a man with a hardened heart. He never saw Ciara as something more than just a 'fake wife' who was willing to help him out with a case. Deciding that he had had enough, Ryan hands Ciara a divorce paper setting himself free from her but 5 years later, he seems to have a change on heart and wants to win Ciara back at all cost.
But on his way to the office of the new investor of his company he is overcomed by a welling shock that the name of his new investor was Ciara. The same Ciara he'd known and once loved.
What happens when this two dual meets for the first time since their rough divorce? Would they rekindle their feelings or would they leave it at that?
Could second chance love prevail?

"You're going to run on the count of three, Janice Cross," He whisper. "And make sure you don't let us find you."
"No… Lucian."
I moved my gaze to the men at either side of him, willing—begging them to say something.
Help me. "Calder, please… Aiden…"
Both turned their heads to the side. They couldn't even look me in the eyes as they chose their brother.
"One."
"Lucian…"
"Two."
"I didn't mean to."
"Three."


After losing the man she believed she would marry and her parents within a week, Janice just wants to care for her sick sister. She doesn't want a man. She doesn't want three men.
But one night is enough to change her life and point her in a new direction.
Aiden Grant. Calder Vaughn. Lucian Graves.
She doesn't expect the line to blur when it comes to these older men.
And when it comes to an end, she does not expect these men to continue wanting her as badly as she wants them.

Iris Quinn had a life worth having—until her father’s arrest stripped it all away.
The charges are a lie, orchestrated by the one family she’s always loathed: the Laurents. When Caesar Laurent offers a cold-blooded trade—her hand in marriage for her father's freedom, Iris realizes exactly who she’s dealing with.
The contract arrives before she's finished being angry. Two years minimum. No escape clause.
Caesar doesn't want her heart; he doesn't even pretend to. But he underestimated one thing: Iris Quinn has spent her life refusing to be controlled, and she isn't about to start now.
Caesar is used to winning. Iris is used to surviving. Neither expected the other to be quite this good at the game. She was supposed to be his prisoner—he wasn't supposed to lose sleep over her.

I once believed that if I was obedient enough, my birth family would finally love me. Instead, they gave everything to Anna, the fake heiress—my competition spot, my reputation, even my kidney.
Then I opened my eyes and returned to the year it all began.
This time, I won’t beg. I won’t yield. My achievements, my dignity, and my life belong to me.
When everyone called me vicious, Damian Sterling draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked in a low voice, “Am I an outsider?”
I leaned into him and smiled. “Of course not.”
But soon I discovered he was being slowly poisoned—and the culprit might be someone closest to him. Worse, the truth behind my death in my previous life may be darker than I ever imagined…

1

The night before the engagement, Rosaline was tricked by her cousin. She was drunk and sent to a stranger’s room. She broke free from their control, went to the next room through the window, and had a one-night stand with a mysterious man.

She didn't want to have anything to do with him, so she matched wits with him and finally escaped. The man stared at silhouette with a smile: "You will never escape from me."

It was five years later when they met again. Neither of them recognized each other, but she was stopped by him in a dramatic way,
"Sir, anything can I do for you?"
"Yes."
"So, what's the matter?"
"I need a wife." He looked at her, and his lips twitching slightly.
"Sir, I don't quite understand what you mean."
"I needed a wife, and you are just the right one for me."
"What! Why?"
"I don't like women who are too beautiful or too smart."
“...”
"I'll see you at the Bureau House at ten a.m. tomorrow."
“...”
What?Was she proposed by the richest bachelor in this City!

I am the fearsome godfather of the Mafia.
For the woman I love, I sheathed my fangs and willingly became a despised commoner son-in-law.
In the horrific car accident, I shielded her with my own flesh and blood, and steel bars pierced through my chest.
Faced with the only life-saving machine in the entire hospital, she did not hesitate to save her lightly injured "white moonlight" brother-in-law, leaving me to die in the basement.
She thought that as long as I bled to death, she could naturally embrace perfect love.
But she didn't know—
Without my protection, her proud, century-old family wouldn't even last a month ...

I remember that frost-covered train door like it was the last thing I ever saw. Because it was.
The escape spot I’d spent three years scraping together? My fiancée was sitting in it, wearing my parka. Her brother had my hiking boots on his feet. Her mother clutched the medical kit I’d carried six miles through ash-covered roads. And Caleb Frost—the ex she’d sworn was just “someone from the past”—stood in the seat that should have been mine, lifting my silver emergency flask in a toast.
While I froze out in the subzero ash storm, my lungs burning like they were filled with shards of broken glass, they turned their backs to me under the warm yellow light inside.
Then I woke up.
The calendar read May 3, 2041. Exactly one year before the Yellowstone chain eruption would turn the northern hemisphere into a frozen grave.
On the TV, experts were still downplaying the volcanic tremors, insisting there was no immediate risk to the public. My fiancée walked into the bedroom wearing one of my white shirts, carrying coffee in the blue mug she’d bought with my card. She reached for my forehead, asking if I’d had a bad dream.
None of them know I’ve already died once.
They’re still plotting how to make me pay for her brother’s failed investments, how to sneak texts to her old boyfriend, how to use me as their most obedient, most useful doormat until the world ends. I’ve sold the downtown office towers, mortgaged the lakefront house, bought the abandoned geothermal station no one wanted in the dead mountains, and signed a stack of engineering contracts they’ll never bother to read.
They still smile and thank me, tell me I’m the best fiancé in the world.
They have no idea who will be holding the key to the door, when the sky goes dark forever and the snow never stops falling.

"Abort her mutt. Liora is carrying my true pureblood heir."
My Alpha husband’s voice was ice-cold as I bled out on the delivery bed.
The woman he was protecting? My fiercely loyal best friend.
While I was screaming in pain, biting my lips bloody to birth his child, he was in the next room, making her moan.
He killed our baby.
When I returned from burying my only family in the freezing rain, his guards threw holy water in my face.
"Wash her," Lachlan ordered coldly. "The stench of death on her will harm Liora's pup."
I stared at the man who once took nine lashes of a barbed whip just to marry me.
He aborted my baby to save hers. He let my grandmother die of shock.
He tossed me a bag of gold like a beggar and told me to stop causing drama.
So, I packed my bags, and vanished into his world.

Every night, dragging noises come from the floor above.
The neighbor claims he just can’t sleep, yet he stares at my window and grins in the dead of night.
Later, he dies.
But at two in the morning, I still get a text message from him.
Someone else warns me: Don’t go to the sixth floor.
The police say this building doesn’t even have a sixth floor.
Yet I’ve seen people go up there with my own eyes.
Where exactly does this so-called sixth floor lead?
Who really died?
And who on earth is the one texting me?

Three torturous years hauling bodies on the mortuary night shift, and I'd finally scraped together the cash for my brother Charles's heart transplant.
He just waved it off.
"My heart is fine. Mom and Dad didn't die in that gang war, either. I orchestrated the hit. You were the only casualty."
Nearby, my husband, Gerald, casually lit a cigar to deliver his own confession. "I never went bankrupt. 'Laying low' was just my excuse to avoid squeezing into that dingy funeral home dorm with you. I've been at the Long Island estate."
"I was going to punish you for another three years," Charles added, "but the stench of formaldehyde on you is nauseating. We couldn't take it anymore."
I froze, still clutching the credit card. Charles plucked the plastic from my numb fingers and shoved his phone screen in my face. A banking app stared back at me.
Balance: exactly zero.
"My name is still on the joint account," he sneered, tossing the card into the trash. "I drained it this morning. That blood money you made bagging stiffs is being handed out to street junkies as we speak. We'd never touch that filth."
Before the sheer absurdity of it could suffocate me, my parents walked in. Flanked by bodyguards, they kept their distance, eyeing me like a plague rat.
"You thought being the biological daughter gave you the right to ruthlessly bully Violet. We simply wanted to put you in your place."
"Swear you'll never cross Violet again, and you can remain a Falcone," my mother added coolly. "Otherwise, you're dead to us."
In the stifling silence that followed, my phone buzzed. A text from my oncologist.
[Mrs. Castello, the results are back. It's terminal. Do you consent to initiating the hospice and DNR protocols we discussed?]

On the eve of my mating ceremony, my twin sister and I were abducted by rogues.
My Alpha fiancé and my parents drained our territory's wealth, but only bought back my sister Elara's life.
Upon her safe return, Elara seamlessly took my place, claiming my marking ceremony to become his Luna.
Meanwhile, left to rot in the rogue camp, a wolfsbane-laced blade violently carved out my wolf's essence.
Tossed into the wilderness like rotting meat, stripped of my ability to shift and bear pups, I became the Crescent Pack's ultimate disgrace.
Forsaken by my pack, Silas—Alpha of the Obsidian Pack and my childhood friend—defied the Council’s fury. Under the Moon Goddess, he publicly marked me, sheltering me like an absolute treasure.
But now, in the third year of our bond, I accidentally knocked over a half-sealed Memory crystal in his study.
It projected a hidden dark magic ritual into mid-air, tearing the lie of that kidnapping to shreds in an instant.
In the projection, Silas held my sister's hand, his eyes brimming with a sickening devotion.
"Don't be afraid, Elara. Aria's twin essence is a perfect match. With this, you'll safely carry pups with the strongest Alpha bloodline."
A heartbeat later, Silas approached my blindfolded, bound body.
With zero mercy or numbing agents, he carved out my essence with his own hands, drowning out my agonizing howls.

We’ve been married for almost a month, yet my Alpha keeps hiding in the study to avoid me.
He would rather give me a cheap vial of synthetic bonding pheromones than bare his fangs at me.
I thought I was just the unwanted substitute for my runaway sister, that he felt absolutely nothing for me.
I slammed the door and left, heading to the Moon Well to confide. But the moment my blood dripped in, the Alpha's voice echoed:
"I finally married her... but I was born with a curse. How do I mark her without hurting her the moment I bite down..."

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.

I used to be the most envied female on the continent. Three mates: werewolf Alpha Kael, vampire lord Dorian, elven ranger Seth. All of them mine.
Then a half-elf drifter named Ayla showed up, and everything I had started belonging to her instead, one piece at a time.
Kael once pulled a fang from his own mouth to make me a necklace. The day it broke, he was too busy licking another female's cut finger to notice.
Dorian spent two weeks brewing me blood wine. Then he handed the cup straight to her, because apparently I "looked healthy enough to go without."
Seth carved me a charm from sacred elven wood. I watched her face take shape under his knife instead of mine.
They kept telling me I needed to grow up. So when a beast's poison was spreading through my body, and I blew the whistle they swore would bring them running no matter what—
No one came.
Three years later, I walked back into their world on a Siren prince's arm.
This time, they're the ones begging for my forgiveness.

After the crash, my husband, Darius, lost his ability to speak. The trauma to his cervical spine left him unable to even lift a finger.
The doctors said his only remaining way to communicate was to nod, or to shake his head.
Sitting by his hospital bed, I finally asked the question that had been eating away at me for three months.
"When the crash happened... were you on your way to see your mistress?"
Darius stared dead at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

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.

My two best friends killed me over a girl who'd been dead six months.
Lila Bishop never got a single offer. So she cried and clung until Cole and Wes were ready to throw away their full rides and follow her to nowhere. I tried to stop them — they called me jealous and cut me off. So I went over their heads. I called their moms. I fixed their signing papers myself, the night before the deadline.
Six months later Lila was gone, and they blamed me. They dragged me to the roof of our gym and threw me off.
Then I opened my eyes — three months back, the day it all started.
Last time, I broke myself trying to save them.
This time, I'd let them jump.

On my twenty-fourth birthday, my grandfather dropped the bombshell: I was an orphan.
After learning about my biological family, I decided to do something nice. I bought a limited-edition sports car as a gift for the father I had never met.
But at the dealership, I was publicly humiliated by my brother's mistress.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I called my brother.
When he arrived, it was only to back her up.
"This birthmark is ugly; let me help you get rid of it."
My own brother used a cigar to burn off the birthmark behind my ear and had my suffering broadcast on the mall's LED screen.
"Listen, if anyone dares to treat this woman’s injuries, I’ll have their license revoked in this city for good!"
But he didn’t know that the grandfather who raised me was someone no one in this city could even dream of looking up to.
When my grandfather arrived with a top-notch medical team and armed mercenaries, sealing off the entire building, my arrogant brother finally realized his mistake.

In the moonlit mating gathering, Prince Lucien Kassel publicly rejects his fated mate Elara Ashwyn, declaring,
“I, Prince Lucien Kassel, take Seraphine Elvyr as my chosen mate,”
while Elara stands broken before the entire Wolf Kingdom.

Years later, after Elara has built a new life and secretly raised their daughter Mira, Lucien corners her:
“I never stopped loving you, Elara Ashwyn. I rejected you to save you from the white witches who wanted you dead.”

Elara’s furious reply cuts deep:
“You watched them brand me like livestock and call me a dark witch, Lucien Kassel. I wish I had never met you.”

$$$$

In a world where wolf shifters prize strength above all, powerless orphan Elara Ashwyn survives brutal pack abuse and public rejection by Crown Prince Lucien Kassel only to discover she carries forbidden dark witch blood and secretly bears his child, Mira. Forced apart for seven years, Elara rises as a fierce corporate lawyer while Lucien becomes king, haunted by his sacrificial choice to protect her. When their paths collide again, old wounds reopen amid royal conspiracies, white-witch covens, and a daughter with explosive powers.

This unique blend of rejected-mates angst, secret-baby redemption, and witch-shifter politics delivers raw emotion, steamy second-chance passion, and a heroine who claims her crown on her own terms.

Will Elara Ashwyn forgive the man who shattered her, or will their cursed bond destroy them both?

Lia Moreno has three serious problems: a bank account in a coma, a boss who hates her… and a mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up.

The third one turns deadly when, in the middle of the company gala, she does a “sound check” and describes the CEO as an industrial freezer… with the mic wide open in front of the city’s entire elite.

The video goes viral, the memes crown her as an anonymous heroine, and everyone bets that Adrian Vega —the legendary cold, perfect boss— will fire her at dawn.

But instead of firing her, he calls her into his office and makes her a proposal as absurd as it is dangerous:
if the world already thinks there’s something between them, why not use it to their advantage?

Now Lia, the filterless intern, has to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most intimidating man in the building.

It was supposed to be just for damage control.
It was supposed to be just a ridiculous contract.

Until the game stops feeling like a game.

A tortured moan escaped him when I ground my hips into his once more.

Fuelled by the harshness of his kisses, I reached between us and slipped my hands into his pants. His cock was hot and thick against my palm.

“Fuck..” He groaned in my ear as I began twirling my thumb around the head of his length. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside your pussy.”


Sienna Adams, an orphaned Omega accustomed to living in the shadows, has always known her place at the bottom of pack hierarchy. When mysterious changes begin to surface, she hides the truth as long as she can, until exposure forces her to flee into dangerous Lycan territory.

There she encounters King Logan Draven, her fated mate, who rejects the bond, convinced she is too fragile for his world. One passionate night changes everything, but by morning he is gone, leaving Sienna heartbroken and determined to disappear.

Five years later, fate brings them together again. Sienna is no longer the vulnerable Omega he abandoned; she has grown stronger, independent, and fiercely protective of the secret she carries, their son. With war looming and hidden enemies rising, Logan realizes the gravity of his past choices.

Determined not to repeat his mistakes, he seeks redemption and a second chance at the family he never knew he had.

As old wounds clash with undeniable destiny, Sienna must decide whether to trust the man who once shattered her heart. Between power struggles, hidden bloodlines, and a love neither can escape, both must confront the past to protect their future, before fate tears them apart forever.

Juggling her career and family, Thea fought to keep her marriage alive after her husband lost his job. She hired a nanny to help—never guessing she was welcoming her own replacement.
"The three of us look more like a family than with you, mommy."
That was the final nail.
She walked away. No custody battle. No tearful goodbyes. Just silence. And from that silence, she rose—stronger, sharper, and impossible to break.
Enter Ezra Harrington.
Billionaire. CEO. Her boss.
Cold-blooded in more ways than one.
He wants Thea—but not just in the boardroom. He's hungry for more.
Her blood sings to him.
Her strength tempts him.
Her fire threatens to consume him.
But Thea doesn't kneel.
Not for love. Not for monsters.
Not even for the devil in a custom Armani suit.
Now her past is clawing back—
A husband begging for a second chance. A child she ne er stopped loving. And a vampire boss who'd destroy the world to keep her.
T.W: Dub-con, vampirism/alpha dominance, workplace relationship, dark romance etc.

"Take your things and leave, Mira. I never want to see you again. The guard will bring the divorce papers. Sign them. I have already done my part. Now it is your turn."
Mira, a princess of the Silver Claw Pack, was labeled a weak omega and abandoned by her father when her wolf never appeared. Heartbroken and humiliated, she ran away and found love in the arms of Alpha Adrien of another pack. Their marriage fell apart when Mira could not conceive, and Adrien's betrayal cut deeper than any wound.
Framed, banished, and left to hit rock bottom, Mira's suffering awakened the powerful, long-dormant wolf within her. Now stronger, fiercer, and unrecognizable, she returns to her home pack not as a broken princess but as a force to be reckoned with.
At the homecoming celebration organized by her father, Adrien, the man who once discarded her, is stunned. The woman he betrayed now commands respect and fear as a dominant leader. He begs for her back, but Mira is no longer the woman he left behind. This time, she is taking everything he once stole from her and more.

Aubrey Carver, a young heiress of the wealthiest family in the country, left her fortune to marry her first love, Dario Fowler. To avoid overshadowing him with her wealth, she posed as a poor countryside girl. Dario, however, only married her to secure his inheritance, planning to divorce her once his true love returned.
Aubrey endured years of insults and hardships from the Fowler family, her love for Dario unwavering. But when Dario handed her divorce papers, she realized he never loved her. Heartbroken, she returned to her family, who welcomed her with open arms.
Months later, Aubrey dazzled everyone at a grand ball, hosted by her grandfather to announce her as the chairwoman of Carver's Corp. Her true identity revealed, the once poor girl was now a powerful heiress.
Dario, realizing his mistake, now faces a crumbling empire and must win Aubrey back to save his business. But will she forgive him and take him back? Or will she choose a new path? The decision is hers to make.

*******Rated 18+ (MATURE AUDIENCE) ****************
This book is for adults only: It contains explicit content, mature themes ad strong language

"My turn," he growled, voice dripping with hunger. He stroked his long, curved length, smearing the bead of precum at the tip.
Instead of guiding his cock to my mouth, Shawn pressed his tip against my tight, puckered hole. He slicked himself with my own arousal before pushing forward, breaching my ass with a firm thrust. "You can take it," he urged, sinking his thick shaft deeper into my back passage.
The overwhelming fullness of the triple penetration hit me all at once. Leo's and Axel's throbbing cocks pounded into my pussy, stretching me beyond what I thought possible, while Shawn's hard length plunged deep into my ass.

This electrifying collection brings together tangled sheets, stolen glances, and the kind of slow-burning tension that makes your skin buzz. Each story dives into a different shade of passion — from step siblings with secrets to a bride having revenge sex with her fiancé’s groomsmen.

When Scarlett Monroe entered her new house, she didn't expect a dangerously handsome stepbrother who despised her no reason and her irresistibly charming best friend who was dead set in winning her.

Asher Callahan was Scarlett's stepbrother. With arrogance, coldness and mysteries that surrounded him, Scarlett feels an unexplainable pulls towards him.

Bring in Ethan Kingsley, Asher's best-friend, the charming boy with a pleasant smile on his face. When Asher's nonchalance and coldness pushed Scarlett away, Ethan's charm pulled her closer.

Torn between choosing between illicit relationship and calmness, Scarlett must make a choice.

"Choosing you would ruin everything for me, Asher." I said, looking into his dark eyes, and he took another step forward, leaving barely any space between us.

"But losing you would ruin me far more, Scarlett." And with that, he captured my lips with his, kissing me like I had never been before.

"Speak not a word to her. Let none of you lay your hands or eyes on her. She is mine to deal with. This is my only warning. Defy it, and the consequences will make you beg for death, yet death will not come."
MIRA
When Ken hurt me, I shattered.
But I never gave in. I refused to feel. I refused to love.
Then my father, who hates me, and my mother, too afraid to protect me, send me away.
I expected peace. What I got was the White Lion.
The mafia king of the continent. A legend soaked in blood.
He claims me with no mercy. Protects me with no kindness.
Says I belong to him. Proves it with every threat and every body he leaves behind.
I swore I would never surrender.
But how do you fight a devil who looks like salvation
and kisses like sin?
SCAR
After my mother died from my father’s recklessness, I made myself a promise.
No love. No women in the mafia. No weakness.
Then I saw Mira.
Too proud to beg. Too pure to touch.
I made her a game. A test. A punishment.
But now she is the obsession I never expected.

"Siblings don't do this," he murmured, his thumb tracing my jaw. "So tell me, Nyra... does he know you the way I do? Does he know what you're capable of?"
Three years ago, I escaped the empire that raised me.
I left behind my father's world of blood, violence, and impossible choices, determined to become someone else.
Someone ordinary.
For three years, I believed I had succeeded.
Until my father was murdered.
One phone call drags me back to the compound I swore I would never see again. But grief quickly gives way to betrayal.
The man I planned to marry isn't who he claimed to be.
Old enemies are hiding in plain sight.
And everyone wants something my father left behind.
Everyone has lied to me.
Everyone... except Raze.
He was my first mistake.
My greatest weakness.
The one man I could never truly forget.
Three years ago, I walked away from him.
He waited 1,095 days.
Now, he's done waiting.
As secrets buried for years begin to surface, I'm forced to face the woman I once was, the weapon my father spent years creating.
I came back wanting answers.
Instead, I found blood, betrayal, and a man who still knows exactly how to unravel me.
Now I have only two choices:
Become the weapon I was raised to be...Or die pretending I was ever meant for a peaceful life.

Rosemary Decker, a 27-year-old marketing executive fleeing corporate burnout in Seattle, inherits her great-aunt's mysterious bookshop in Thornwick Hollow just as her life crumbles. But the inheritance comes with a chilling countdown—twenty-eight days until a crimson eclipse that occurs once per generation. Holden Ashworth, a devastatingly compelling stranger with secrets older than the mountain town itself, seems to know intimate details about her family history that she's never heard before. As Rosemary discovers the horrifying truth about an ancient covenant that has claimed six generations of women from her bloodline, she realizes Holden isn't courting her—he's preparing her for a ritual that will grant him immortality while consuming her life essence. But some family legacies are worth fighting for, and in Thornwick Hollow, the hunted might just become the hunter when the crimson eclipse rises and old debts written in blood come due.

In the apocalypse, during my escape, I awakened a useless superpower: reset .
My girlfriend, despising me as a burden who only creates junk, conspired with the mercenary captain to kick me into a horde of zombies.
She had planned everything, except for one thing.
My superpower wasn't "creating junk," but a conceptual-level divine skill !
A zombie bites my heart? Reset my body's state, instantly revived!
A rabid mutant attacks? Reset its hunger nerve, making it instantly kneel like a dog!
I single-handedly fought my way through the zombie horde and knocked on the shelter's door.
Beside the captain's shattered neck, I held my desperately begging ex-girlfriend upside down, smiling as I suspended her directly above the zombie horde.
"You were right, useless people should be zombie food. Now, it's your turn to prove your worth."
Then, I released her.

“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.

In my past life , I was delivering supplies in the scorching heat of the apocalypse , only to have my ex-wife 's lover smash my head with a stick.
daughter, whom I've spoiled for sixteen years, looked at me with disgust: "Pretending to be a good girl is disgusting. Kill him and take his supplies."
When she opened her eyes again, her daughter had been reborn.
She cried and clung to my legs, begging to be taken in, all to trick me into believing she was building a shelter.
I decided to play along, spending all my savings to build her a top-of-the-line temperature-controlled fortress, and then "meticulously" teaching her the secrets of switching on the electric grid.
As the apocalypse arrives, the ex-wife and her lover launch a night raid on the high wall.
my daughter pressed the switch, trying to let her father in and kick me out the door.
The next second, with a loud "boom," the multi-million-volt high-voltage power grid was instantly activated !
The daughter collapsed in the control room, trembling : "Why is the switch upside down?!"

Everyone says I’m crazy.
My husband, Adrien, is Ashmont College’s most esteemed professor—suave, composed, and highly logical. I, on the other hand, am an investigative journalist whose nerves are fried by looming deadlines and too much caffeine. Yet, I insist there’s a woman who shares my exact face, who crawls out of our bedroom mirror every night and slips into my husband’s bed.
Our security cameras always "happen" to glitch at the crucial moments. My son avoids me like I’m a monster, and my neighbors claim they cheerfully greeted "me" in the driveway a few days ago—even though I don't even own a vintage pink dress.
Adrien has started dropping phrases like "psych evaluation" and "sole custody." If I let this drag on any longer, he’s going to personally commit me to a psych ward.
So tonight, I lied about flying to Chicago. Instead, I’m hiding in my own study—waiting for that identical face to crawl out of the mirror one more time.

The day he proposed, Atticus knelt before me, holding the Hale family's heirloom necklace.
I thought I had finally survived the ordeal.
After eight years of unrequited love, being humiliated by his sister, nitpicked by his mother, and mocked by the city's socialites for being unworthy of the Hales... Until this very moment, when he personally fastened the heirloom around my neck. Everyone saw it. I, Clara, was finally accepted by the Hale family.
Tears in my eyes, I said yes, thinking it was the happiest moment of my life.
But just days after putting on that necklace, bizarre red rashes crawled up my neck. My pale skin rotted away piece by piece, and my internal organs went into irreversible failure.
The most absurd part? The exact same day I started rotting, his dying mother miraculously cured her terminal illness, and his sister's half-destroyed face was restored to flawless perfection.
Disfigured and barely looking human, I threw myself off the Harbour Bridge—
I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the proposal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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