293 Book(s) Related to does jack reacher die

In the year 2333, humanity has fallen and ruled by werewolves. Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion.
However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her.
He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave.
My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides.


“Yes please.” She begs.
“Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy.
It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric.
But I never claimed to be saint.
“Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.”
“Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.”
I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.”
Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.”
“Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads.
“Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.”
I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

His first love slipped off his hand and got into the hand of his brother. She was once his lover but now, his only brother's wife.
Louis and Olivia were lovers for years. He proposed marriage to her, she accepted and gave her virginity to him. When he discovered that she was pregnant, he became distraught and ended the relationship. That act became the beginning of a very long story of regret for Louis and accomplishment for Olivia because she met someone better.
Denise, Louis's cousin who was not aware of their relationship ran into her when she was at the bleak of death, saved her life and gave her shelter after he realized that she had a miscarriage. Denise and Olivia fell in love and got married after a month. She conceived immediately and when she delivered a set of twins, Louis came up to claim the children. That almost tore the family apart.
Arthur, Louis father and Denise uncle a widower of thirteen years fell in love with Nichole, Denise mother a widow. Their marriage strengthened the bond between the two families, but it brought a lot of hatred from the members of the Bailey's family, who had eyes on Nichole and wished to marry her. The female members of the society who had eyes on Arthur and wished he would be theirs also unleashed their attack on them. This led to a secret plan to eliminate him and have Nichole by his cousin, Mr. Stephen Bailey.
Louis refused to love again.
He got into an unbalanced relationship, afterwards, she opted for a divorce. After she moved out of his life and house with their only daughter, he realized that his life was empty without them. He quickly asked for a reconciliation and they lived happily together.

Laura Dickson finalized her divorce from Tim Williams, her poor husband, to chase after successful men. That same day, her boss retired and a young man was promoted to the rank of a military General. Unexpectedly, the young General was promoted to the vacant presidency. Seeing an opportunity in this sudden shift, Laura arrived at work the next day. She chose her attire carefully, aiming to project confidence and allure - determined to make an impression on the new, powerful President. But...

This story is for adults and has sex violence.
the god of resurrection kills a man about to be married on accented(supposedly)
then sends him to a magical realm where he gathers a harem of women.
18 or old contains graphic sex and little s&m

I was always the extra daughter in the Cross family.
To my parents, I was nothing more than a walking blood bank for Clara. To my husband Adrian, I was a sinner who needed to atone for her crimes.
When Adrian forced me to donate a kidney to my sister, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, I liquidated every asset I owned and transferred it all to my research lab.
They thought I was stupid, thought I was still desperate for their love.
But all I was doing was putting my affairs in order.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up blood all over the table.
Adrian sneered over the phone. "Cut the act, Evelyn. You'll do anything to dodge responsibility. You just want attention—how pathetic."
The surgery was a "success."
My sister got the kidney she'd always wanted.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated above my body as I watched Adrian walk into the hospital room, that patronizing smile on his face, ready to put on his "repentant husband" act.
"Eve, I know you've been hurt. Let's start over..."
The only answer he got was a white sheet pulled over my face.

“You are no longer Diane Morel. Your name is Lyra, and your only job is to obey.”

Betrayed by her own brother and her supposed best friend, Diane is stripped of her identity and sold into an elite Greek pleasure house. She was meant to be broken. Forgotten. A nameless commodity for the wealthy.

But they underestimated her fire.

Enter Jake Damon—a ruthless, reclusive billionaire who commands empires and terrifies enemies. When he buys her, Diane prepares for her ultimate destruction. Instead, Jake demands her silence, not her body. Behind the closed doors of his Manhattan penthouse, a dangerous game of control and defiance begins. The cold, untouchable billionaire finds himself undone by the one woman he cannot truly own.

Can Jake handle the storm brewing in his arms, or will Diane burn down both their worlds for the ultimate revenge?

Return to a hidden world and experience first kisses, exciting quests, and new adventures in this collection of short stories and retold scenes from the bestselling Creepy Hollow series!GLOW-BUG BUTTS & MAGIC CARPETSViolet is too stubborn and scared to believe that Ryn truly cares about her, but he'll do whatever it takes to prove himself. This story tells Ryn’s point of view of the magic carpet kiss from The Faerie Prince.DATE NIGHTWhen you're an overworked guardian, making time for date night is difficult. This story takes place several months after The Faerie War and alternates between Violet and Ryn as one mishap after the next gets in the way of their attempts to have a normal date night.A TOUCH OF GOLDWhen Tilly helps two strangers escape from danger, she becomes part of their quest to keep a powerful magical ability out of the wrong hands. This story was originally written for the anthology Once Upon A Quest and is set after The Faerie War.THE PROPOSALViolet has a big decision to make regarding her guardian career ... and about something else even more life-changing! This story takes place two years after The Faerie War.THE ARTISTChase is supposed to be one of the fae world's most powerful beings, but he's about to be bested by the pretty young thief he just discovered in his living room. This story retells the scene from A Faerie's Secret in which Chase and Calla first meet.I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOTThey've been friends since the day he threw a crumpled-up wad of paper at her, but he's about to discover how much more she means to him. This is the story of Gemma and Perry, two side characters from Calla’s part of the Creepy Hollow series.TREASURE HUNTCould two Griffin rebels find themselves working at a Guild again? Will a plan revolving around a bagel finally come together? And is there treasure to be found at the end of a quest? Set roughly six months after the end of Rebel Faerie, the final Creepy Hollow book, this story catches up with all your favorite characters.Note: The majority of this content is already available as individual stories for subscribers of Rachel Morgan’s newsletter. While all stories have been re-edited for this collection, they are essentially the same.

Lunar Depletion Syndrome. Seven days.
That was my death countdown. And my Alpha mate Kael was still threatening me, demanding I use the last of my life force to save my sister.
On our third anniversary, he had given me a surgical consent form and dissolution papers as gifts.
How laughable.
Three years ago he had said my eyes sparkled like stars. Three years later he wanted me to close them forever.
They all said I had finally matured, learned the spirit of sacrifice expected of an older sister. The joke was, I hadn't been moved by love.
I was just tired.
Why struggle when death was inevitable?
Rather than dying alone in the wilderness, it was better to die on the operating table and become the perfect sacrifice in their story.

That night, I was dragged into a parking lot and beaten until my hands could never hold a scalpel again.

I thought it was random. Until I heard my own brother and fiancé talking—

"Those thugs went too far, but the result works out, doesn't it? This time, the award will go to Charlotte."

Charlotte. The "poor orphan" my family adopted.

For twelve years, she stole my papers, my opportunities, my glory. And the two men I trusted most handed her everything on a silver platter.

They called me spoiled. Selfish. Difficult.

They even believed I started the fire that killed our parents twelve years ago.

But here's the truth: Charlotte started that fire. I was the one who dragged them out.

They thanked the wrong sister. For twelve years.

Now they want me dead.

Fine. Let Penelope Ashworth die.

My husband is sleeping with my own sister. Cliché, right? I drove to Black Pine Lake to catch them, but stumbled into a brilliantly twisted murder trap instead. Now, the cops think I am a jealous, psychotic killer. Declan believes he dug the perfect grave for me. But did he?

"Very entertaining. Highly recommended for the permanent library of any reader who appreciates a well-written mystery with twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!" --Books and Movie Reviews (regarding Murder in the Manor)A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER is the debut novel in a charming new cozy mystery series by bestselling author Fiona Grace, author of Murder in the Manor, a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews (and a free download)!Audrey Smart, 34, is a brilliant vet—yet fed up by her demanding clients who think they know more than her and who don’t care about their animals. Burnt-out with the endless hours, she wonders if the time has come for a new direction. And when her 15th year high school reunion (and her hopes for re-sparking on old flame) end in disaster, Audrey knows the time has come to make a change.When Audrey sees an ad for a $1 home in Sicily, it captivates her. The only catch is that the house requires renovation, something she knows little about. She wonders if it could be real—and if she may really be crazy enough to go for it. Can Audrey create a life and career—and the home of her dreams—in a beautiful Sicilian village? And perhaps even find love while she’s there?Or will an unexpected death—one that only she can solve—put an end to all of her plans?Are some dreams too good to be true?A laugh-out-loud cozy packed with mystery, intrigue, renovation, animals, food, wine—and of course, love—A VILLA IN SICILY will capture your heart and keep you glued to the very last page.“The book had heart and the entire story worked together seamlessly that didn't sacrifice either intrigue or personality. I loved the characters - so many great characters! I can't wait to read whatever Fiona Grace writes next!”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“Wow, this book takes off & never stops! I couldn't put it down! Highly recommended for those who love a great mystery with twists, turns, romance, and a long lost family member! I am reading the next book right now!” --Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)“This book is rather fast paced. It has the right blend of characters, place, and emotions. It was hard to put down and I hope to read the next book in the series.”--Amazon reviewer (regarding Murder in the Manor)Books #2 and #3 in the series—FIGS AND A CADAVER and VINO AND DEATH—are now also available!

Jess has a secret that she has been keeping from her family. She is an agent for the Department of the supernatural. She has been working for them since she was 16, but now aliens have landed, and Jess knew that they were coming, and she knows what they want. She has to get her family away from civilization and into the mountains where they will be safe. What Jess does not expect to find in the mountains is her boss Kieran, the man who broke her heart back when she first joined the department. Jess has to train her family how to fight while keeping her feeling under control as she prepares for war. She must work alongside her friends, family, Kieran and civilians to make sure that the aliens leave and that they will not or cannot come back.

Zara lived a steady life. She was a primary school teacher and loved her job. She was not a social butterfly and only had one person she considered a friend and that was her best friend, Ivy. She liked her quiet life after growing up in foster care, the quiet was nice.Until her best friend’s husband and his mistress decided to kill Ivy and frame Zara. Now she has been sent to Survival Island--a deadly prison where convicted criminals fight to the death for a chance at freedom and a $10 million prize.
Zane, a powerful vampire and the island's owner, has spent centuries unable to feel desire for any woman. But when he notices Zara's intelligence, resilience, and determination to survive, she awakens something in him that no one ever has. For the first time in his vampire life, he is interested in a female, and his member is also starting to come to life. Who is this woman and why does he suddenly crave her and not just for her blood?

Lily is a beautiful woman who was forced to divorce her husband. Ryan, her husband, wanted to marry his former lover. Because of his parents' wishes, the two of them were finally matched. But after Lily's father died, Raynold immediately filed for divorce. Unknown to him, Lily was pregnant with their child.

When the divorce had taken place, Lyly's ex-boyfriend came to propose to her. Because the father's property was still in the hands of the ex-husband, the two of them, along with Lily's biological brother, finally agreed to take revenge on Ryan's family.

On the one hand, Ryan's wife has found out about their plan to destroy Ryan's family.
Will their revenge be avenged? And does Ryan know the fate of the child who has been born?

Two worlds. One empire. And a whole lot of family drama.
From the concrete grit of an American neighborhood to the sterile glass towers of a billion-dollar security empire, The House of Charuzu was built on discipline, hustle, and community. But somewhere along the way, that soul got lost in a maze of corporate policies, luxury branding, and family scandals.
Now led by image-obsessed heirs Aoki Aalam and Cadeyrn—who’ve mastered order but not empathy the empire is powerful but hollow. Meanwhile, Joy and Lotus, granddaughters of the OG streetwise landlord Charles, are back. Armed with tech smarts, emotional scars, and prophetic warnings from neighborhood elder Mr. Pat, these women are shaking the marble floors of prestige with community-rooted truth.
Boundaries vs. belonging. Control vs. compassion.
One side must learn the power of real human connection.
The other must learn structure—or risk repeating the cycle of chaos.
Expect boardroom blowups, back-alley wisdom, emotional gut punches, and slow-burn romance as two legacies collide in a story where security ain’t just a service—it’s a soul check.

He doesn’t know I watched him for years.
Not from afar. Not casually.
Obsession isn’t casual.

I was fourteen the first time I saw him.
He was eighteen, beautiful, untouchable, everything I decided I needed.

So I made a plan.

I befriended his brother.
I won his mother’s trust.
I moved into his orbit so seamlessly, he never questioned it.

Now, I’m his wife.
He calls it fate.
He tells people we were meant to be.
But he doesn’t know the truth was designed.

He doesn’t know about the notes.
The maps.
The screenshots.
The years of silence, waiting, stalking, perfecting the version of me he would fall in love with.

But secrets don’t stay buried forever.
And the deeper you bury a lie, the louder it screams when it surfaces.

Because he just found my old phone.

And the man I stalked for a decade…
Is now stalking me.

Was it ever love, or just revenge in disguise?

Have you ever been treated like a stand-in for your dead sibling by your own mother? I have.

Have you ever been murdered by your own mother? I have.

My name is Aira, and today is my sister Lily's birthday. It's also the anniversary of my death—the day the washing machine became my coffin.

"Why couldn't it have been you who died?"

After four long years, my mom finally got her wish.

I'm the forgotten eldest son of the Cross family.
My parents see me as a walking blood bag for my brother Colin, while my wife views me as a sinner destined to spend my life atoning for my mistakes.
When Audrey pressured me to donate a kidney, I agreed.
Not only did I agree, but I also liquidated all my assets and transferred them to my lab.
They thought I was foolish, that I was still begging for their love.
In reality, I was just tying up loose ends.
The night before the surgery, I coughed up a pool of blood.
Audrey laughed coldly over the phone: "Stop the act, Evan. You just want to dodge responsibility. You'll go to any lengths for attention."
The surgery was a "success."
Colin got the kidney he'd always dreamed of.
And I died in the recovery room.
My soul floated in the air as I watched Audrey push open the hospital door, wearing a smile that dripped with pity, ready to put on a show of "redemption."
"Evan, I know you've been wronged. Let's start over..."
The only response to her was the white sheet covering my lifeless body.

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?]

My adopted sister, Adriana, hit and injured Hadley Brooks—the prized mistress of Hartwell’s mafia boss, Dario Salvatore—and fled the scene.
Don Salvatore gave us exactly three days. And so, my husband and my parents all turned their eyes to me: Go take the fall for her. You always know how to fix things.
I agreed.
What they didn't know was that on that very same day, my doctor had given me my own deadline: I had, at most, three days left to live.

I was dead, and the whole world was celebrating for my sister.

For twenty-two years, I had been the hardest-working but most invisible daughter in the Sterling family, forever living in the shadow of my gymnastics prodigy sister.

Running a high fever, I begged my family to take me to the hospital, only to hear: "Don't you DARE ruin Bella's award ceremony!"

When I was tricked into the abandoned equipment room and used my last breath to call my boyfriend while lying in a pool of blood, all I heard was: "Grace, quit the drama! Bella's accepting her award on stage!"

On stage, thunderous applause erupted as Bella lifted the "Young Gymnast of the Year" trophy.

And I drew my final breath.

When they returned home triumphant, thinking I had run away in a tantrum, they had no idea I was already dead right under their noses.

Aura Gracesyella Park, a famous soloist, is forced to lose her virginity due to a one-night stand with a handsome stranger man named Axel Xavier. In a bid to avoid scandal, Aura daringly escapes before the man beside her wakes up, hoping to never encounter him again. However, fate has other plans. Aura never anticipated that Axel would turn out to be her new bodyguard, assigned to protect her.

Eventually, Aura is compelled to share living quarters with Axel, at least until he is convinced that she is not carrying his child. How will Axel and Aura conceal their closeness to prevent public scrutiny? And what about Lionel, the man who has feelings for Aura?

His determined enough not to let her go again. So he take all his courage to say these words to her.

"Why can't it be? Why can't it be the two of us? Why can't we be lovers? Only friends?

Her psychological condition is the main reason.

Her emotion is always splitting.

The young man belongs to a wealthy clan, he is a billionaire who had a dark past unknown to the society where he belongs at present. Only the lady knew his deepest secret, his past. She played the big role in his life long time ago…

When they meet again, the memories of his past comes back to him. Then the billionaire hope that maybe at present time they can be more than just friend but then again the lady wants to say goodbye to him.

Would she stay? Or would she say goodbye?

Will can they be lovers? Or will can't be?

To the police, she’s a rogue agent. To the Mafia, she’s a dead woman walking.

Marilyn Collins took a dead woman’s name to hunt a monster. Instead, she became Lucian Volkov’s obsession. He thinks she’s the ex-lover who broke his heart. She knows he’s the man who might have killed her friends.

In the heat of his bedroom, the interrogation turns into a blood-pumping game of cat and mouse. Every kiss is a lie, and every touch is a sin.

But when the real killer emerges from the shadows of her own precinct, Marilyn must choose: the badge she once wore, or the Mafia King who would burn the world down to keep her. Two enemies, one bed, and a secret that could destroy them both.

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

Three days after I died, the morgue called my husband Sebastian to collect my ashes.
He was kissing another woman when he hit speaker, his voice cold and dismissive: "She's dead? Cremate her. Don't call me again."
And just like that, my body was wheeled into the cremation chamber.
When he finally showed up to collect my remains, he smashed the urn on the floor and ground every fragment of my ashes into the tile with his shoe.
"Playing dead? What a pathetic stunt," he sneered. "Tell her the anniversary of my mother's death is coming up. She'd better show up at the cemetery on her knees, or even if she really is dead, I'll scatter her ashes in the sewer myself."
But he didn't know—I truly was dead.
My soul was bound to him, forced to drift at his side as he planned a lavish wedding with his adopted sister Claire—his mother's true killer.
By the time he discovered the truth and exposed Claire at the altar, I had already vanished.
He lost his mind, racing to the ocean to search for my ashes.
Never knowing that the remains he'd crushed like garbage under his shoe—the "fake ashes" he'd dismissed as part of my act—
Were all that was left of me.

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.

I was taking six-year-old Arabella to fit her dress for the theater's grand opening.
As we crossed the intersection, a truck suddenly lost control and T-boned our car.
When I opened my eyes again, an agonizing pain ripped through me. I opened my mouth to call out Everett's name, only to hear his hushed voice seeping through the crack in the door—
"Staging an unavoidable accident was the only way to use the emergency room as a cover for the drug trial."
"Now that Ophelia's treatment is a success, there's naturally no need for that little bastard to live."
My Arabella. She was secretly wheeled into the operating room by him, used as a human guinea pig for his mistress Delilah's daughter, who had bone cancer. Her sweet, bell-like vocal cords were cruelly carved out and transplanted into another child's throat.
In that defining moment, I realized he had never loved my daughter.
But what he didn't know—the child he just murdered with his own hands was his one and only flesh and blood.

Three years of marriage. Three pregnancies.

Every time I confirmed I was pregnant, my sister-in-law Ophelia would walk into the chapel behind the manor.

Then my in-laws would drag me to the hospital and force me to abort the healthy baby.

The night after my third miscarriage, I dragged my weakened body to follow her into the chapel.

The moment I pushed open that door, my blood ran cold.

In that instant, I finally understood why my three children had to die.

I died on the second Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day.
My biological mother, the top neurologist in the United States, was standing in front of my corpse.
She looked at the bedsores all over my body, at the ribs that had been stomped broken, and explained coldly to hundreds of cameras:
“Trash from the bottom of society, covered in needle marks like this, doesn’t deserve to dirty my dissection table.”
She didn’t know that the “social garbage” she called a pill-seeking self-harmer was the son she had abandoned ten years ago.
When the cold scalpel cut open my chest, an old photograph stained with black blood slipped out.
The moment she saw it, the woman who had stood above everyone else—
went completely insane…

On the night my grandmother died, my husband Kael came home trailing blood.
His leather motorcycle jacket was soaked dark red, yet he flashed a savage grin: "I wiped the floor with those bastards tonight!"
For three years, he had treated our home as nothing more than a pit stop between reckless street races.
I’d finally had enough. "After the funeral, we're getting a divorce."
Before the words fully left my mouth, my phone rang. It was his riding partner, Lunn, his voice choking with sobs: "Sera... Kael drove off the cliff tonight. They only recovered bloody pieces of his helmet!"
But the "dead man" was standing right in front of me...

For six years, I wore Pack silver. I sold my blood. I scrubbed silver out of Pack den floors. I slept on a basement floor — all to pay off my mate's Pack debt and buy my brother's wolfsbane antidote.
Today, with the receipt finally signed, my brother looked at me and said:
"Seren, I was never poisoned. Our parents aren't dead either. The Rogue raid six years ago — I arranged it. The only wolf hurt that night was you."
My mate stepped up behind him: "I never lost my Pack rank either. I've been at the estate the whole time."
Then my parents — the ones I'd buried seven years ago — walked through the door.
The Pack physician had given me forty-eight hours left to live.
They were going to remember every single one.

My husband often made me suffer for the sake of my younger sister, even divorcing me because of her.
My parents gave all their love to my sister and neglected me.
My husband and parents even had my sister perform surgery on me.
But they didn't know that my sister had no idea how to perform surgery.
It didn't matter though, because I no longer cared.
On Christmas Day, when they were celebrating, they finally remembered me.
But I was already dead.

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.

The day my all-powerful wife personally handed me over to the mob's basement, she was shielding my identical twin brother, furiously accusing me of destroying his ability to carry on the family line.
To compensate for my brother's "trauma," my parents stood by and did nothing. Using her influence, my wife pressured me to take his place at a black-market clinic, testing a lethal drug.
They thought I was just going to suffer some physical hardship, that after enduring these two weeks, everything would be happily resolved.
But they didn't know I had already been poisoned by my brother. I was dying.
I died in agony on the cold operating table. As my body was being gnawed and rotted by rats, they were happily vacationing by the sea.
Only when the lies were exposed did my wife kick down the hidden door. Holding my maggot-infested, decaying flesh, she wept until she vomited blood, then went mad and swallowed a bullet. My parents watched their family shattered and wept on their knees.

My brother Soren is a figure skating prodigy. Every dollar in our house, every hour, every scrap of attention — all his.
Me? I'm the kid who doesn't need to be seen.
The night before Nationals, I told my mom my stomach hurt so bad I could barely stand. She said I was making trouble. Dad told me to take a painkiller and tough it out. Then they loaded up the car and drove two hundred miles to watch Soren skate.
They didn't come home until Sunday night. By then, I'd been dead for over a day.
I called her. Again and again. She had her phone on airplane mode.
Now I'm a ghost, drifting behind their car on the highway home. They're laughing, complaining I didn't even text Soren a congratulations.
I wonder what their faces will look like when they walk through that door.

At four, they shattered both my legs. At six, they ruptured my left eardrum. At seven, they took my right eye—said I'd earn more sympathy begging blind.
After twelve years in hell, my billionaire parents finally found me.
The girl who stole my life grabbed my wrist, nails digging into my skin. "Dare take what's mine, and I'll break whatever's left of your legs."
I smiled, unclipping both prosthetics to show empty pant legs. "I don't have legs left."
She was terrified.

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

The day I get diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, I can finally stop selling plasma.

For five years, I thought I was paying for the fire that killed my parents and son, left my brother disabled. Selling plasma, joining drug trials, doing the worst jobs imaginable, all to pay back a debt that wasn't even real.

The doctor says I have a few weeks left. I clutch the diagnosis report and head home to tell them.

The moment I push open the door, I see my parents in the kitchen, the ones who supposedly died in the fire. My brother, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair, stands there raising a glass, laughing with my husband.

My brother shrugs like it's nothing. "The broken leg was fake the whole time. You were the only one hurt in the fire. We just wanted to teach you a lesson, make you appreciate things."

"We were going to tell you eventually." My husband pats my shoulder. "Go apologize to Vanessa. Stop giving her a hard time."

"All the money you gave us went to Vanessa," Dad says. "That's what you get for throwing your bio-daughter status in her face."

I touch the diagnosis in my pocket. Everything was a lie. The only truth is that I'm dying.

After three years of agonizing IVF, I was forced into three abortions. The reason? My mafia in-laws’ pet bird stared at my belly and shrieked, "End it."
Even when I was carrying healthy twins, my own parents held me down and forced abortion pills down my throat. My husband—the man I once took a bullet for—watched coldly. "Listen to the bird. Abort."
Lying in a pool of blood, I finally discovered the horrific truth. There was no "sacred bird." My marriage, my ruined womb, and all the IVF tortures were actually part of a terrifying conspiracy.
On my fourth pregnancy, the bird finally decreed, "Keep it!"
As the whole family treated me like a queen and rejoiced to welcome their precious heir, I quietly walked into the operating room.
Armed with lethal evidence, I crashed their grand succession ceremony.
You want an heir? I’ll send you all to hell instead.

“Just because I couldn’t afford to buy a gold ring for my wife she cheated on me with her boss. Today I am the heir to the company where they work,” Jamole intoned…
Jamole was a poor janitor who adored his wife, Stella so much. When his wife wanted a gold ring for her birthday gift, he told her he was a pauper and couldn’t afford one but for her sake he was going to buy her the gold ring.
He worked harder and painstakingly spent his life savings as a janitor to buy her one.
When he visited home to give her the gold ring, he met a flamboyant man banging her in their matrimonial bed. Worst still, Stella yelled at Jamole and ordered him to go on his knees and apologize for distracting them. As though that wasn’t enough, she tossed divorce papers at him and demanded for a divorce since he wouldn’t apologize.
Jamole left the marriage heartbroken and pained. He bumped into a disable girl in a wheel chair who begged on the street and proposed marriage to her with the same ring. From that moment his financial life changed and he became the richest tycoon in Antipolo.
How did it happen?
Who is the disable girl in a wheel chair?
And what would his revenge look like?

Cara is a talented, humble, and ambitious actress who longs for success and fame in the entertainment world. Her life takes an unexpected turn when she meets Vincent, a handsome werewolf with dark secrets. Fascinated by his mysterious aura and his promise to make all her dreams come true, Cara is tempted to make a deal with the devil to sell her soul. With Vincent's supernatural power, her career takes off, but as she gains fame and fortune, she begins to realize that she has made a deal with devastating consequences. In order to save her soul and break free from Vincent's grasp, Cara must fight against the darkness that surrounds her, facing her worst fears and discovering that there are more important things in life than success and fame.

Plot Twist:
Just when Cara thinks she has found a way to break the pact and free herself from Vincent's control, she discovers that he is not really the leader of the werewolves but merely a pawn in a much larger game. It turns out that there is a Supreme Alpha in their species, who has been manipulating Vincent and others like him to achieve his malicious objectives. Now, Cara finds herself caught in a war among werewolves, where she must decide whether to join the rebel forces seeking to overthrow the Alpha or seek her own revenge against Vincent for deceiving her. In an unexpected turn of events, Cara discovers a hidden power within herself that could change the course of the battle and bring an end to the tyranny of the Supreme Alpha. On her journey for revenge, Cara becomes the last hope for her species and desperately fights to liberate the werewolves from their oppressor and reclaim her own freedom.

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

Six days after Alexander lost all contact, I navigated my way alone to the Nightfall Gala to find him.

The guard's expression twisted into something peculiar when he heard my purpose.

"You're saying you are looking for your mate, Prince Alexander? And what is your name?"

"I am Cecilia."

The guard let out a harsh, mocking snort. "Stop causing a scene! A blind beggar trying to pull a scam? Don't think you can just impersonate her just because you know the name of the Prince's mate."

"Everyone knows the Prince just gifted Cecilia the millennia-old Abyssal Night Crystal to celebrate her pregnancy! What the hell are you?"

Just then, the giant LED screen cut to the Gala's live broadcast.

"Allow me to formally introduce my partner, Cecilia. Furthermore, she is expecting. Our family is about to welcome a new heir." It was Alexander's voice.

"Thank you all. This is the greatest gift Alexander and I could ever receive."

The moment that sweet, timid voice echoed through the hall, a string violently snapped in my brain. A sharp ringing pierced my eardrums.

—It was the voice of my twin sister, Elena.

On my due date, my husband Russell locked me in an underground freezer at minus ten degrees.

The Pembroke family's unbreakable rule: the first-born male inherits the entire mafia empire. My sister-in-law Natasha and I were both pregnant, our due dates only one day apart. To ensure his brother's child was born first, Russell made this insane decision.

"My brother and Natasha's baby has to come first—this is what you owe them!" He ignored my desperate pleas and violent contractions, coldly shoving me into the freezer.

But that wasn't enough. They forcibly injected me with labor-delaying drugs. I curled up in agony on the freezing concrete floor, feeling my baby slowly slipping away, tears of despair streaming down my face.

My baby, Mommy is so sorry...

On my birthday, I was dragged up to the attic and assaulted by several men.
I called my parents, brother, and boyfriend for help, but they all thought I was seeking attention and ruining my sister Sophie's celebration.
"Mia, stop it. We're busy preparing for Sophie's party. If you want attention, find another way."
This was the hundredth time they'd let me down.
But there won't be a hundred and first.
Because I'm already dead.

My billionaire lover brought out a bespoke mermaid gown, declaring he would marry whoever could fit into it.
But in my past four lives, every woman who tried it on—whether an ambitious imposter or me, his true love—was brutally tortured and murdered by him.
In my fifth rebirth, the butler knocked on our door with a polite smile, "Mr. Voss says his true love is among you."
Since we four women would die no matter who wore it...
We exchanged a look in the dead silence, turned our heads in perfect unison, and locked our eyes onto the only man in the room.

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

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

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

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

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

I said, "Fine."

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

As the tyrant ruling the underworld, Victor was ruthless and bloodthirsty, showing no mercy to anyone.

Women who tried to climb into his bed usually didn’t even get a whole corpse, yet I was the only one he kept by his side.

I’d taken a poisoned bullet for him, and nearly bled to death on the rotting floor of a safe house giving birth to his son.

He once kissed the bullet scar on my shoulder and promised me that when he sat on the godfather’s throne, I would be his only family matriarch.

But the moment he slipped on that black onyx ring symbolizing power, he carried another woman into the master bedroom of the manor.

I burst for the door, and he ordered his bodyguards to pin me outside, forcing me to listen to their sounds of passion all night long.

I banged on the door like a madwoman, so he slammed my paintbrush-wielding right hand in the heavy oak doorframe and crushed it mercilessly.

I finally caved when he threatened to cut off my mother’s hospital treatment.