294 Book(s) Related to gon dad

My fiancée and best friend, whom I risked my life to protect, sold me to the brutal "Blood Blade Gang . "
They laughed as they watched me being kicked into a pool of radioactive waste like a dog, waiting for me to turn into a pile of bones.
But they didn't know that the deadly radiation not only failed to melt me, but also forcibly ruptured my genetic lock, awakening the [Nuclear Fury].
I rode back to the old camp in her heavily armored vehicle.
Those two scoundrels were still arrogantly bullying me: "I have the Blood Blade Gang backing me! The big shots are coming soon, you're dead!"
I sneered and slapped them away.
Idiots, look back! Your so-called powerful backer is kneeling in the vehicle, lighting my cigarette.

"Starting price for my wife—one dollar!" James announced, pointing at the dog cage where I lay curled up like a dying animal.

The crowd at the wedding erupted in laughter. "Five dollars!" "Ten!" They threw bids like trash, mocking the woman who used to be Mrs. Windsor. Lillian, wearing my stolen necklace, poked me through the bars with a metal rod. "Look at you, Aurora. You're nothing but filth." I closed my eyes, accepting my fate. My husband had sold me. My dignity was gone.

Suddenly, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the noise.

"Two hundred million."

Silence fell over the hall. Every head turned. Walking through the doors was a man radiating power—Louis Smith, the newly found heir to the Smith empire. The man I had pushed away ten years ago. James turned pale. "Mr. Smith... this is a joke..."

Louis didn't even look at him. He walked straight to the cage, his eyes burning with a terrifying mix of rage and tenderness. He ripped the lock off with his bare hands and pulled me into his arms. James tried to block him. "She's my wife! You can't just take her!"

Louis smirked, his voice dripping with ice. "Your wife? I just bought her. She's mine now."

A zombie outbreak occurred, and my brother and I were both reborn ten minutes before the disaster struck.
This time, he seized the initiative, stealing the two high-level god-tier abilities, [Flame] and [Hardening], and casually pushed me out of the security door, locking me in the zombie-infested corridor.
Through the security door, he arrogantly declared, "In my past life, you always stood in front of me; in this life, I'll take the mark of survival."
In his eyes, the [Tracking] and [Preset] abilities the system assigned me were nothing but useless pieces of paper.
He thought I would die a horde of zombies.
But he didn't know that in the hands of a top hunter, seemingly useless skills could weave a hellish web that made life unbearable and death unthinkable.

A red dragon heir locked me in an iron shed and scorched me with his breath for ten minutes straight.Didn't kill me.He woke a Black Dragon buried under a three-hundred-year curse.The Tri-Dragon Council tore down my home, beat my father, threw me in jail, and live-streamed it all so the whole city could laugh.What they didn't know: every ancestor's soul in the Black Dragon cemetery had fused into me.I smashed through the Council's dome and slammed the dissolution order onto the table.

At the company's annual client appreciation dinner, I was the one in charge of booking the venue.
To save the company money, I picked my aunt's upscale restaurant with a skyline view. Since we were family, she only charged us at cost. When I posted the details in our Slack channel to confirm with the team, no one had any objections—except for the intern, who slowly tagged me in the chat:
[Arthur, I don't mean anything by it.]
[I just want to ask—how big a kickback did you get for booking your family's restaurant?]
[After all, the money for this dinner is coming out of our bonus pool.]
[So you should return that money to the rest of us, right?]
The other coworkers started liking the message and chiming in to support him.
So I dropped the whole thing on the spot and handed the task over to that intern, who loved talking about "fixing workplace injustice."
Then the night of the dinner came.
From the CEO all the way down to the investors, everyone was pinned on the deck and searched by armed Coast Guard officers.
The most important client contact collapsed from a heart attack on the spot and was airlifted by helicopter straight to the ICU, costing the company a multimillion-dollar enterprise cybersecurity contract.

Six years of marriage, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, she would see me someday.
Yet she never gave me a hug, never called our son "sweetheart" once, and couldn't even stand him calling her "Mom."
She said I was calculating, that I was shameless.
I laughed. So, in her eyes, my love was a scam from the very beginning.
So, I signed the divorce papers and left town with our son.
I thought it was all over.
But then she said,
"I'm not leaving you."

They called me the kingdom’s light.

They worshipped me… until they decided I was a threat.

On the night I was meant to become queen, my sister smiled as she betrayed me.

My fiancé watched as I was condemned.

And then he threw me into the abyss. They thought I died.

But something down there was waiting for me. Now I’m back. Not as a princess.

Not as a saint. But as something far worse. I wear a servant’s face. I bow my head.

I play their game. And the man who killed me? He can’t stop watching me.

Touching me. Wanting me. If he discovers who I am, he’ll destroy me again.
But this time… I’ll destroy him first.

All nobles mocked me for rejecting the talented common mage and picking a brutal gladiator with no magic as my escort. They called him a filthy hound unworthy of serving an Oberlin lady. But only I remember—this scarred man died twice for me in my past life. Reborn before my family’s ruin, I swear bloody vengeance on Cedric and Liliana, who poisoned my father and stripped my skin. I endure searing magic backlash, fight bloody death matches, and burn all traitors alive. The shadow they sneer at will become the indestructible shield of my reign.

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?

My husband bought a necklace for the woman who killed my mother.

When I saw my foster sister Rebecca Rebecca wearing that emerald necklace with Aaron at the party, I knew history would repeat itself. Seven years ago, my mother lost everything the same way—her husband, her dignity, and finally her life.

I wouldn't follow in her footsteps.

So after slapping Rebecca across the face, I told everyone I was divorcing him and walked out with my suitcase.

Rebecca thought she'd won again. Aaron thought I was just being hysterical.

Neither of them saw it coming—

This time, I'd make them pay.

Blake's keeping me locked up in a villa outside the city, with a dozen bodyguards watching me around the clock. They won't let me step foot outside my room.

He once promised Vanessa, the woman he never got over, that he'd give her company shares and his estate. Now she's back after her divorce, pregnant, crying to Blake that I threatened her, told her to give up what he promised, and that I wanted to hurt her and her baby.

Blake believed her.

He's convinced I'm evil and gold-digging. He locked me up here while he stays at the hospital, never leaving Vanessa's side.

I'm going into sudden labor, crying and begging him to let me go to a hospital. I swear I never wanted those things, never hurt her.

Blake just sneers. "You're such a liar. I don't believe a single word from someone as vicious as you. After Vanessa delivers, I'll get you a doctor. Stop trying to fool me."

But when he finally sees my body, he completely falls apart.

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

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

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

I tried to explain. He hung up.

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

Also the last.

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

Well, now they're off the hook.

Problem solved.

Hayley Davis has everything she could ever want in life- money, a loving father and an established law career.
But there is one thing she wants that she knows she can never have- Jake Ryker, her father's best friend.

Since the first day she met him, she has wanted him and she knows he wants her too.
It is a filthy desire, one she has no business having but Hayley has never been one to take no for an answer and she will get Jake but at what cost?

NOTE: THIS BOOK IS SMUTTY, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

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.

Holly Leefe has seen it all. Being a medium keeps life interesting. Not that it needed any help. She already had a psychic for a husband and a clairsentient teenage daughter. Data analyst by day, ghost hunter by night. Unless it was football season. She did live in Texas after all.
This fall Holly and her husband Jesse are trying to help a widower and his fiancé discover why suddenly stilettos are being thrown through their TV. Plus a few other nuisance cases. As if helping the dead and raising a teenager wasn’t enough, the ghost of her grandmother won’t rest until the family home is returned to its 1980’s glory.

I’ve seen the living; I’ve seen the dead. I’ve seen angels and I’ve seen demons. No matter how many malevolent or benevolent beings I interacted with, none could terrify me as much as the spirit that walked through the door into the kitchen where I was cooking dinner. Mentally bracing myself, I stirred in chili powder to the ground beef on the stove before I acknowledged the woman that was now looking over my shoulder.
“That’s too much seasoning. It’s going to be too spicy.” I turned to face the food police. “You need to call your mother.” It was an order, not a request. I raised an eyebrow, inviting her to explain. “She won’t listen to reason.”
“Are you two still feuding?” She had been fighting with my mother for the last two and a half years. I’d inherited the “gift” from my mother who had gotten it from my grandmother and so on and so forth. They didn’t need me to pass messages back and forth. She seemed to have forgotten that I had refused to get involved.

When your bf cheated and you spent a great night with a 🔥 stranger.
You woke up and realized you're late for the online seminar of the most popular pr0fess0r.
You dashed out of the bedroom, wearing the man's t shirt,
Then the whole class saw you through the profess0r's live stream...
You😱: pr0fess0r...did we???

Due to an arranged marriage between our families, I married Damien Blackwood, heir to a business empire.

During five years of marriage, I tried hard to play the perfect wife, bore him a daughter Lily, thinking I had finally won his love.

Until his first love Serena returned from abroad, I watched him rekindle his passion for another woman, watched them rekindle their old flame.

A car accident changed everything.

I was taken to court, sentenced to three years in prison, becoming a "murderer" despised by everyone.

And he personally sent me to prison.

I'm a figure skating prodigy from one of the wealthiest families in the country. I'm also an idiot.

I believed that if I was kind enough, people would be kind in return. So I sponsored Haley Dunning, a scholarship skater on our team, and treated her like my own little sister.

The day before the NCAA qualifier, she came up to me with a sports drink, said she wanted to help keep my energy up.

I drank it. Went down on the ice with a broken leg. Drug test came back positive for banned stimulants.

Overnight, I went from the queen of the rink to the face of a scandal no one could stop talking about.

Expelled from school. Torn apart on social media. Calloway Corporation's stock in freefall.

Haley stood in front of the cameras, tears in her eyes: "Piper just wanted to win so badly. I never thought she'd go this far..."

I fell into a depression. Couldn't sleep without medication.

Then one day, she showed up at my hospital room with my boyfriend, bearing "comfort": a cup of water and a few pills: "Piper, take your meds, okay? This is all my fault for being so stupid..."

Three minutes later, I'm coughing up blood, convulsing on the floor.

Right before I died, I caught the look on her face. That sweet, innocent face. A slow, vicious smile spreading across it.

She knocked over the pill bottle and started screaming: "I grabbed the wrong ones! I mixed up her antidepressants with some old person's heart meds! I'm so stupid!"

My boyfriend pulled her into his arms. Didn't even glance at me dying on the floor: "She meant well. Piper just had bad luck."

I was poisoned to death in that hospital room.

Then I opened my eyes, and it was the day before the qualifier.

“When you think that life cannot get better, Blake Pierce comes up with another masterpiece of thriller and mystery! This book is full of twists and the end brings a surprising revelation. I strongly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that enjoys a very well written thriller.”--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Almost Gone) ALMOST DEAD is book #3 in a new psychological thriller series by USA Today bestselling author Blake Pierce, whose #1 bestseller Once Gone (Book #1) (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star reviews. After the disastrous fallout from her last placement in England, all 23-year-old Cassandra Vale wants is a chance to pick up the pieces. A high-society, divorced mother in sunny Italy seems to be the answer. But is she? With a new family come new children, new rules, and new expectations. Cassandra’s determined to make this one last - until a horrifying discovery pushes her to a breaking point. And when the unimaginable occurs, will it be too late to pull herself back from the brink? Who, she wonders, is she becoming?A riveting mystery replete with complex characters, layers of secrets, dramatic twists and turns and heart-pounding suspense, ALMOST DEAD is book #3 in a psychological suspense series that will have you turning pages late into the night. Book #4 in the series will be available soon.

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."

My stepsister and I tumbled down the stairs together. As someone with a blood clotting disorder, my spleen ruptured—I was bleeding internally, desperate for surgery to stop it.
But my mother—the renowned chief of surgery—pulled every specialist from the ER. To consult on my stepsister's condition.
All she had was a sprained ankle. Not even a scratch. Yet mom insisted on running every test in the book. And me? Left alone on that cold floor, bleeding out, half my body already soaked in blood.
I clutched at her pants, begging her to save me. But she kicked my hand away and looked at me with pure disgust.
"Lily, are you really so desperate for a man's attention that you'd pull a cheap stunt like this? Your sister's foot is swollen—and you have the nerve to fake your death here?"
In the end, I died alone in a corner of that ignored ER.
But when they wheeled my cold body out of the morgue—and they finally learned about my clotting disorder—
That mother who claimed to hate me completely lost her mind.

I was just on the phone with my husband. He was stuck in traffic, apologizing for being late to our anniversary dinner. Forty minutes later, detectives are at my door, claiming he died in a crash three days ago. If Silas is dead, who just sent me a text?

Ten years of secret love, and what did I get? Watching him fall for another woman at MY art exhibition.

The most ridiculous part? He turned to me and said, "Harper, you have to help me win her over."

I orchestrated their romantic encounters, taught him how to charm women, even told him what flowers she liked. I was the perfect wingman, watching them fall in love while I licked my wounds in the dark.

Until Dr. Avery confronted me with one devastating question: "Do you really think he doesn't know you love him?"

When I finally screamed "I've loved you for ten years!" at Mason, his response froze my blood:

"I know. I've always known."

Turns out, my ten years of devotion were nothing more than a free emotional dumping ground to him—the convenient girl who would never leave. He enjoyed my care while pretending not to see my love, because that was safest, easiest.

Pathetic, right?

A woman wastes ten years loving a man, only to end up pushing him into someone else's arms.

Until Blake appeared.......

"I want to know," Marissa said, one hand resting on her stomach, her smile dripping with triumph, "if you'll be here to watch me give Bryce the child you never could."
Rachel's world shattered.
For three years, she had been the perfect Mrs. Voss, gentle, obedient, and endlessly devoted. She believed love could soften Bryce's cold heart... until he walked in with his pregnant mistress and erased her without a second thought.
Declared infertile. Branded a burden. Cast aside like she meant nothing.
When Bryce demanded a divorce, Rachel asked for just fourteen days. Fourteen days to hold onto the life she had built, to pretend her marriage hadn't already died.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't care.
But the moment she hit rock bottom, another man stepped in.
"A contract marriage," he said, his gaze dark with intent. "One year. You become my wife... and I'll make him beg for the woman he threw away."
Dangerous. Ruthless. A man who doesn't love, only claims.
"Unlike Bryce," he murmured, stepping closer, "I don't discard what belongs to me."
This time, Rachel won't beg to be chosen.
She'll rise. She'll take everything they stripped from her. And she'll become a woman Bryce Voss can never touch again.
So when he finally realizes the truth... when he's the one begging at her feet...
Will she walk away or make him suffer the way he made her break?

It was hard for Charlotte to let go of her best friend, Dalton, the boy she fell in love with since she was nine years old, to make way for her sister, Caroline, who happens to be in love with him too. It was hard for her but in order to make someone happy, even if it meant sacrificing her own, she was willing to let go.

It all happened around her senior year, where she let go of the only thing that mattered to her and after graduation, she moved away with no intention of going back.

Four years later, on her college graduation day, her parents rather demanded her to come home with a reason that shocked her senseless.

“See? Mom warned you a long time ago—Rehn is a venomous snake to the bone.”
When a monster tore my right arm apart, and I watched my so-called best brother scoop up all the rations and run without looking back, my mother’s voice suddenly sounded inside my head.
But she’d died five years ago.
Mom told me my “good brother” hadn’t gone far at all.
He was hiding nearby, waiting for the monster to leave so he could come back and play the hero.
He would stash the ammunition, swap out my antibiotics, and in the end use me as the perfect meat shield—kicking me straight into a dead end.
To stay alive, I swallowed my blood-soaked humiliation and played along with him for a full one hundred and twenty minutes of brotherly devotion.
Until he finally tore off the mask and shoved me toward the most horrifying mutant.
I sneered and tossed away my self-defense knife.
Brother, you want to be a god of the wasteland?
Sorry. I’m going to be that god.

On college application day, my two childhood sweethearts, Blaise and Kieran, were completely bewitched by Mari. The manipulative girl talked them into abandoning their prestigious university spots to attend a small community college with her. I tried desperately to stop them, even contacting their parents to prevent them from ruining their futures.
Yet when Mari ended up dead months later, the blind boys blamed everything on me. They tricked me to the cliff and shoved me down brutally, making me pay for a crime I never committed.
Miraculously, I am reborn on this exact day. This time, I will not interfere. I will watch silently and let them bear the consequences of their own foolish choices.

I made 17 calls for help. My sister answered every one—and hung up.

For 48 hours, I lay dying in Pine Ridge Forest, texting desperate pleas to my family. They thought I ran away. The truth? My sister deleted every message while I begged for my life.

Three months dead. Zero funeral. My family didn't even notice I was gone.

Now the police have recovered my phone. Every deleted text. Every ignored call. Every lie my sister told to cover up what she did.

"Please. I can't feel my legs. I'm sorry I exist. Just don't let me die here."

They wanted me invisible. I gave them what they wanted.

Now they'll spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd answered when I called.

Two years ago, my best friend Maddie knelt in front of me, crying as she borrowed $50,000.
The very next day, she vanished off the face of the earth. No explanation, no apology, not even a single text message.
I was left carrying her toxic debt. I lost my fiancé, and I lost my ability to trust anyone.
Until one late night, a call came in from an unknown number originating in an abandoned mining district in West Virginia.
On the other end of the line, Maddie said she was getting married. She had the money ready—every last cent.
The wedding venue was a ruined church deep in the mountains, abandoned for a decade. The time: Friday, midnight.

While I bled to death locked in a storage room, my fiancé Adrian was holding my sister's hand, comforting her.

He hung up on my final call for help, leaving only a voicemail: "If anything happens to Lena, the engagement is off."

My sister once said her birthday wish had always been for me to disappear.

That night, her wish came true early.

But my soul never left.

I watched everyone gather around her, singing happy birthday.

As she blew out the candles, I whispered in her ear:

"Enjoy it while it lasts. This will be your last birthday."

My husband had been traveling a lot lately. Intuition told me he was cheating.
I kept quiet. For his birthday, I gifted him AirPods—secretly linked to my backup Apple ID.
At 10:00 p.m., his "Find My" location wasn't heading to the airport. It had stopped at a decade-abandoned lumber yard.
I floored it, obsessed with catching them in bed.
But when I arrived, I only found a corpse.

This story is about 23-year-old Lily Hills, waking up to the dead body of her one-night stand in a motel. The same man, Damien Kalashnikov, was to tie the knot the next morning, and Lily was slated to handle the magazine publishing the glamorous wedding events.

Lily who just wanted an adventurous night for once in her life, was now accused of murdering a ruthless Russian Mafia boss.

Just as all hope seems lost, Dimitri, Damien's identical twin brother and infamous "Beekeeper," saves her, he proposes a shocking solution: a contract marriage, with conditions for both parties to meet. The wedding, initially intended for Damien and his bride, will proceed as planned – with Lily as the new bride.

As Lily and Dimitri navigate their complicated relationship, he commissions her to write his biography. With each passing day, secrets unfold, and shocking truths surface. Their bond deepens, but danger lurks. With a surprise pregnancy raising stakes, it seemed Damien left a souvenir. A Russian Roulette began.

Albeit, a typical Russian will say to you: Когда река молчит, шепчет ли она секреты рыбам? (When the river's voice is silent, does it whisper secrets to the fish?)

Even in silence, hidden truths may be shared, and secrets can be revealed in unexpected ways.

Will Lily, wife to the Omertà Mafia Don ‘The Beekeeper’ eventually find out what happened that night?

I loved Callum Crane for five years. He said I didn't fit. Then he proposed — to my sister.
The same night, his brother called me with the most insane idea I've ever heard: marry him instead. Same day. Same venue. Right across the hall from my ex and my sister's ceremony.
I said yes. Not because I loved Emrys Crane. Because I'd rather set the whole thing on fire than sit in a pew and watch.
Here's the thing about revenge marriages, though. They're supposed to be fake.
Nobody told Emrys.
The man had a wrench set in his truck that only fit my grandmother's machine — bought years before I ever spoke to him. He'd been sneaking looks through my workshop window so often the stone wore down. He fixed my motorcycle three times and never mentioned it. He remembered that I stared at a piece of almond brittle for ten seconds once, and bought it for me weeks later.
Seven years. He'd been in love with me for seven years. Said nothing. Did everything.
And Callum? The man who told me I didn't fit?
He showed up at my orchard with an apology and a folder full of evidence against my sister, begging for a second chance.
I looked him in the eye and said: "Too late. Wrong harvest."
He tried five more times. It only got worse for him.

I was hospitalized with a high fever, and my boyfriend stayed by my side 24/7.
The nurses all praised him as the "perfect boyfriend," and 5 million live stream viewers were green with envy.
He looked into the camera and poured his heart out: "She's my entire world. I could never leave her, not in this lifetime."
Tears streamed down my face as I felt like the luckiest woman alive.
Until 2 AM, when his phone buzzed with a message:
"Miss you 💋"
He thought I was fast asleep.
I wished I was just dreaming.

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...

"You have two months to live." The doctor's death sentence was still ringing in my ears when I found the receipt in his pocket.

[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]

3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.

I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.

"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.

I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.

I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.

"Only one woman leaves alive. Choose, Jared."

My husband didn't even hesitate. He rushed past me, untying his weeping mistress, Natalie. "I choose her! Take Danika!" he screamed, refusing to look at me as I sat bound to the chair. He walked away, leaving me alone with the man paid to rape me. The monster laughed, unzipping his pants, thinking I was a broken doll. But he forgot I had nothing left to lose. As he forced himself on me, my hand found a pen in his pocket. I didn't beg for mercy. I plunged it straight into his eye socket.

Danika, the perfect wife of upcoming businessman Jared Fox is known to the world as a naive, beautiful wife who loves her husband to the core, however, no one knows just how dark her life is.

Enter Lysander Laurent-Ashworth, cold, disciplined, and feared across the business world for his ruthless precision. To everyone else, he is untouchable. To Danika, he is the stranger who saved her, and the man who seems determined to shield her, even from the truths she can’t remember.

Bound by a dangerous agreement neither of them fully understands, Danika finds herself drawn into Lysander's world but Lysander might just do anything to protect her. Absolutely, anything.

He was the gentlest male nurse in the hospital, and it took him three years to fall in love with a woman of exceptional talent.

She was the most dazzling female director of the cardiothoracic surgery department, and she was used to his humble flattery and took his efforts for granted.

Three years of companionship couldn't outweigh a single word: "Get lost."

When he finally left, heartbroken, she realized—

The "little nurse" she used to dislike had long since become the most important person in her life.

Some loves, once lost, are lost forever.

Some missed opportunities are regrets that can never be undone.

At a lavish dinner, a billionaire with a net worth of four billion embraced my ex-wife and slapped five thousand yuan in my face: "Kneel down, kiss her shoes, and then get out of here."
The entire audience of celebrities burst into laughter, while the ex-wife's eyes were filled with the pleasure of revenge.
Without even lifting my eyelids, I dialed a number in front of everyone: "I'm going to bankrupt one person. Execution level: nuclear bomb."
They laughed at me for pretending to be crazy.
Three minutes later, the entire nation was in an uproar. Four billion dollars in assets were frozen, the FBI broke down the door, and the once arrogant tycoon collapsed to the ground like a dog.
I endured for three years, just to save her grandfather's life. Since she's in such a hurry to break the contract, I don't need to pretend anymore.
This is not just a story about divorce; it's a countdown to the gods regaining control of the Book of Life and Death on Earth.

Kaitlyn Randall wakes up late and the first thing she does is leave her place, almost throwing her cold coffee on a cop car nearby with a handsome officer inside.

To say the least, her day isn't going very well except for the eye candy. Especially when she shows up to work extremely late and has to clear out her desk.

When she finds out later that her estranged father left her millions of dollars, she decides to go to Europe and take a well-earned vacation after quickly buying a house.

Once she is there, she realizes that it was all an elaborate scheme

and now she is stuck in Europe by herself, without a single dollar to her name.

Will a tall, dark and handsome stranger come to her rescue?

Or more importantly, what will he want in exchange?

See what this rich stranger has in store for her in A Day To Remember.

The car crash six months ago destroyed my body. I survive the agony only through the painkillers prescribed by my brother, Fletcher.
While shopping for my wedding dress, I simply swallowed a pill on schedule. My mother responded with a slap that made me spit blood. My father stormed in and kicked my ribs in without asking a single question.
I fled crying to my brother, only for him to grab me in disgust: "You are a disgrace to this family."
I called my fiancé. He rushed to the scene, took one look at the pill, and called the cops without hesitation: "The engagement is off. She makes me sick."
In just a few hours, I went from a bride-to-be to a death row inmate.
But as the gavel fell, I saw our family maid calmly swallow the exact same pill from the gallery…
I lunged at the railing, screaming at the judge. He leaned down, a chilling smile spreading across his face: "Linnea, this is all because…"

For six years, I sold my body to underground clinics as a human lab rat to cure my son's heart failure and pay off my husband's debts.

Today, my biological brother kicked away the medicine I bought with half my life.

"Lucas was never sick. We faked the medical records to teach you a lesson for upsetting Virginia."

My husband coldly chimed in:

"I never went bankrupt either."

Even the son I bled to birth stabbed my arm, screaming, "A bloody monster like you doesn't deserve to be my mom!"

I finally realized my entire life was a meticulously crafted scam.

With my organs rapidly failing and only ten days left to live, I stepped onto the edge of the balcony.

"You're right," I smiled at my husband and brother, watching the color completely drain from their faces. "Six years of my life isn't enough to apologize to her."

"So I'll pay you with my corpse."

Are you single? Or married?

I’m single ma’am

Why would a beautiful girl like you be single?

Well, I’d say it’s because I have to work hard to fend for myself so I could meet up with my bills. So I really wouldn’t have time for relationships.

Well, I want to offer you a contract.

What contract ma’am?

I want you to get married to my son and produce heirs for my family, he’s the only child I have and I wouldn’t want our name to be dragged to the mud because of his refusal to get married.

I’m a dying woman, I’m battling with cancer and I have just one year left for me and I wouldn’t want him to be unmarried while I leave this earth.

I’m ready to pay you five hundred thousand dollars monthly (500,000 USD) for staying with my son and a million dollars when you produce an heir.

What?

"What is the ultimate favoritism your partner gives you?"
On the third day after the IVF procedure, I came across this trending question on a werewolf forum.
Just as I was about to scroll past, a highly upvoted answer pierced straight through my eyes.
"I'm newly pregnant with the Alpha's cub, so I can answer this question."
"The favoritism is this: even though I’m not his official mate, he lied to the one at home—claiming she’s infertile due to health issues—just so I could conceive."
"He said: 'A human body is like a broken vessel. Only a strong she-wolf like me deserves to carry his cubs.'"
In the photo, the ruby necklace that belonged exclusively to me was hanging around her neck.
Trembling, I finished reading every word.
So this was his idea of a beautiful future—sowing his seeds in his lieutenant's bed.
So the agony of egg retrieval I endured was, in his eyes, nothing but the useless struggle of a broken vessel.
I laughed until tears fell.
Back then, I defied my father and even cut ties with my family just to marry this stray wolf.
"Ella, sooner or later, you’ll come crying back, begging for our forgiveness."
Now, it turns out I really have failed.
I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and dialed the number I’d blocked five years ago.
"In three days, I will return to the Hunters' Legion."

The moment I gave up wasn't when I found out my husband was cheating. It was when I heard my ten-year-old daughter laugh into the phone and say, "Mom's so clueless. She has no idea about Dad and Summer."

Ten years ago, I was a top biomedical researcher, making six figures. I gave it all up for his promotion and our newborn daughter. Ten years later, the perfect marriage I traded my career and youth for turned out to be nothing but an elaborate lie.

He called me his safe haven, then got in our bed with his mistress and discussed how to keep me in the dark.

This time, I'm not going to cry or make a scene. I'm going to quietly gather my evidence and call the lab director I've turned down seven times.

[WARNING 18+]
This book contains descriptive intimate and violent scenes. There could be triggering content like self-harm, drug addiction, and depression.
[TROPES]
Billionaire. Revenge. Second Chance. Escape while pregnant.

When Mellow Fanning married Zeath Lupin, the cold chairman of Lupin Group, she thought their love was forever. But everything crumbled when he introduced his pregnant mistress at a family dinner.
Angry, Mellow sought to make Zeath restless by kidnapping the mistress. However, that resulted in a tragedy that nearly claimed her life and that of the child growing inside her—a child Zeath didn’t deserve.
She faked her death and ran away, bound to return as Zeath’s only means to remain as the chairman of Lupin Group.
Would he recognize her? Would she accept his apology if he ever gave one? And what would happen when the threat she once fled from rekindled, endangering her and her child’s lives once more?











“Do you know how much I wished you wouldn’t come near me, or even... touch me?” Zeath drones on. “All those cuddles and kisses, all the affection, made my skin crawl—like a troll embracing its victim before gobbling them. One can only imagine how much it stinks. You are no different from that troll. You merely caught my attention because you were a self-absorbed twonk, and we needed to test if you even had the heart to love another.”
“We?” I croak out.
Then Zeath’s fingers trail gently along my face, his eyes glinting with pure poison, and his voice is no better.
“Poor Mellow, it is all a dare, a gratifying one. Divorce or not, it’s your choice.”