3193 Book(s) Related to to lukov with love

I was the last of the Holy Bloodline. To the Nocturne Clan, I wasn't a Princess—I was a walking incubator, a terrified blood slave bound by the lowest pact to breed their pureblood heirs.
"I promise you... the next child you bear, I will let you raise yourself," my husband,the Vampire Prince, whispered, holding our newborn son wrapped in his sister-in-law's blanket.
He used my body as a shield against silver blades to protect his sister-in-law.
For nine years, I endured the silver whips, the boiling sunlight, and the agony of watching my babies handed over to another woman.
But when I discovered my husband was the very monster who slaughtered my families, I shattered heart turns to ash.
So, I give him exactly what he deserves—a pile of scorched ashes in a dark prison cell.
By the time the Vampire Prince realizes he cannot live without his wife, I am already “dead”.

I was the undefeated queen of the underground octagon—a body held together by broken bones and spilled blood, all to build Dorian's fighting empire from the ground up.
But when he'd made it to the top in his tailored suits and polished shoes, suddenly my scars made me too crude, too ugly to stand beside him.
He ordered me to throw my title defense—told me to take a dive for some rich girl whose daddy bought her a spot in the cage. And when that woman shattered both my legs with an illegal knee strike, he just stood there and watched.
I clawed my way out of that wreckage—barely breathing. Left him a blood-stained divorce decree and vanished.
While he mourned over what he thought were my ashes, I was already training alongside the legendary king of the octagon, rebuilding myself from the ground up.
Now I'm back—stronger than ever.
This time, I'm going to break that princess's pretty face and crush his pathetic ego underfoot.

Five years into our relationship, a floating panel appeared just above Julian’s head, visible only to me: the [Life Priority Meter].
For the longest time, my name securely held the number one spot. That is, until recently, when it plummeted to second place.
The person who knocked me down to claim first? Harper—my best friend of over a decade.
Staring at the stack of wedding invitations on the table, bearing both our names, I knew it was time to wake up from this five-year long dream.

In the delivery room, my husband Ronan fumed that having a male doctor was a disgrace. My mother-in-law Coralie griped about the hospital bill. His sister Ophelia clung to his arm, pinching her nose and mocking the smell of the room.
In my previous life, today was the day the doctor ordered an extra blood test due to my in-laws' history of blood disorders. Two Type-O parents had somehow produced a Type-B daughter.
Coralie pointed at my nose, calling me a whore. Ophelia fueled the fire, sneering, "Just admit it, Sabine." Ronan slapped me off the delivery bed, demanding the name of my "lover."
I died having no way to prove my innocence, losing both my life and my daughter, Sorrel.
It wasn't until moments before my death, when I pushed open the master bedroom door, that I finally understood: the two people tangled naked in my marital bed were my husband and his own sister.
I opened my eyes. I was back to the morning after giving birth to my daughter.

I woke up on the same morning I was about to send another payment for my daughter's education.
In my last life, I paid for everything. Every year, without missing a payment.
Tuition. AP tutoring. Summer program deposits. Medical bills. Birthday gifts. The education fund.
Not one payment late. Not one skipped.
I only found out the truth after I died. My daughter wore a blazer that hung off her like a hand-me-down. She glued her shoes back together instead of throwing them out. She got mocked in front of her whole class for owing a two-thousand-dollar activity fee she should never have had to worry about.
She hated me for it.
She said, "You say you love me. So why was there never any money for me?"
I understood the truth only when it was too late to matter. It was never that I hadn't given enough.
It was that my husband had been siphoning it out from under me the whole time, spending it on another woman's family.
This time, I didn't wait to find out.

My younger sister, Freya, was preparing for her advanced training in New York the following week, so she dragged me to the dance studio to help her correct her movements. I put on my dance shoes as usual and stood in the center of the floor, ready to demonstrate a turn.

The moment my foot slipped, I didn't even have time to react.

My body hit the ground hard, and the sharp pain from the back of my head nearly made me lose consciousness. I lay on the cold floor, my throat tight, unable to even cry out for help.

When Mother rushed in, she didn't spare me a glance.

She immediately helped Freya up and took her to the hospital. I missed the critical window for treatment and died on the way to the hospital.

On the way to the hospital to deliver my baby, rain was coming down in sheets.
Suddenly, my husband slammed on the brakes. He'd spotted his ex-girlfriend standing in the downpour with her child.
"She's struggling as a single mom. I'm just going to help her carry those groceries upstairs. Ten minutes, tops."
Clutching my belly through the contractions, I begged him, "But I'm about to give birth. I'm in so much pain."
He just locked the car doors with a click, his voice sharp with annoyance.
"Sarah, can you try to be a little more empathetic? She's soaking wet."
In those ten minutes, my water broke. Desperate to survive, blood on my hands, I crawled out through the back hatch.
While I was fighting for my life in the ER—
His ex posted a snapshot.
In the video, my husband was gently toweling off her hair. The caption read:
[So glad you're here.]

We had earned countless merits in war.

I could crush refined steel with my bare hands. My comrades could manipulate metal, hack electronic devices, and phase through concrete walls.

But what was the price?

Bone calcification, organ failure, every breath feeling like swallowing razor blades.

Ever since we broke into that laboratory,

For seventy years, we've been hiding in the gutters like rats, barely surviving.

Until my comrade was strapped to an experiment table once again.

I'm sixty years old. My husband Marcus just whipped me with his belt — for burning an egg. My face is bruised, my hair is gray, and I gave up a full ride to Stanford for this man over forty years ago.
Then the phone rings.
The voice on the other end is mine — my eighteen-year-old self, calling on her birthday, gushing about how Marcus is out buying her a cake, how they're running away to Nashville together tomorrow.
She asks if I'm happy.
I tell her the truth: her boyfriend is in a cheap motel right now, in bed with her best friend. And those pretty promises about Nashville? He's planning to use her up and throw her away.
She doesn't believe me. Of course she doesn't.
But I know the motel. I know the room number. And I know what's behind that door.
If she walks away from him tonight, everything changes — for both of us.

My sister climbed out her window the night before her wedding. So my family pinned her veil over my face and sent me in her place.
I'd been her stand-in my whole life — same face, same hair, the daughter they could afford to lose. Nobody looks twice at a bride behind a veil.
The Falcones figured out I was a fake before the vows. They broke my hand for the insult. And the don himself — the man this whole city only says quietly — took one look at the mess they'd made of me and told them to throw me out with the trash.
Then his eyes dropped to the locket my dead mother left me, lying on his marble floor.
And the most feared man in the city went very, very still.
He had no business knowing my mother's name. So why did he say it like a prayer?

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

I don’t believe for a second that Roman’s so-called “protection” is really for my sake. He keeps warning me about danger and enemies, trying to scare me off, but I refuse to back down. The pull between us is undeniable—intense, electric. I’d rather walk into the fire than let him go. Still, jealousy twists inside me whenever I think about Regina. I can’t help but wonder if Roman truly cares for me, or if I’m just another casualty in his chaotic world. The harder he pushes me away, the more determined I am to stay. Even if I’m scared, I have to take the risk—to see if I really matter to him.


"I'm sorry, for everything." His voice was sincere and his intoxicating breath brushed against my face and I staggered back a step. "I know I hurt you, though, that certainly wasn't my intention but I'm trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" I hissed.
"Me." He said coldly. He glared back. Finally provoked.
Are you kidding me? This was his excuse? Really? I rolled my eyes and stood up, my jaw clenched tight. "Can you at least try to be original?"
"Nuru, I can't be with you, not only is it not safe for you because in my job I piss a lot of people off," he insisted, speaking slowly. He sounded annoyed."...a third of those people want me dead, half of those would do anything to get to me — even go as far as hurt the people I care about." He shook his head with a grimace.
I wondered if I shouldn't be scared that people would want to hurt me if I continued to be in Roman's presence; instead I felt uncomfortable, the thought of staying away from him would hurt me more. The idea of abandoning Roman for a lifetime without him was repulsive to me. It made me sick. There was a connection between us I was sure only came once in a lifetime. I wouldn't leave him for anything. So why should this be any different? And a smile curved my lips. He'd admitted he cared about me — not in so many words, but still I felt a surge of pleasure.
"You had no problem with being with that stupid girl, Regina," I mumbled, wondering how much of my anxiety he could read. How much of my jealousy.
His face turned cold, expressionless. "You can't seriously compare this, us... to what I shared with"

For seven years, I told myself James wasn't cold; he simply loved quietly. Then my car died after midnight, and he told me to call a cab. When I earned the promotion I had chased for two years, he forgot my message. But when his ex said she felt sick, he left work with medicine in one hand and her exact coffee order in the other. That was when I understood: my husband knew how to care. He had simply never chosen to care for me. By our anniversary, I would stop waiting, leave his gift on the table, and move out. Only then would James begin to love me—and by then, it would be too late.

Fourteen years I gave him.
Every storm I shielded him from.
Every mess I cleaned up for him.
I made him a king of Manhattan.
On my forty-second birthday, he brought my enemy's daughter to my party.
He forged my medical records.
He tried to strip me of my trust.
He thought I was done.
He forgot one thing: I made him.
And I have a son he never knew existed.

"Someone is right behind you."
It's the most common comment I get in the chat during my late-night streams.
But when that exact phrase abruptly hijacked my screen, spammed in bold, blood-red letters, my blood ran completely cold.
Because deep down, I knew. This time, they weren't joking.
It was real.

In my last life, I was the one who stopped it.
The second I recognized what was in that cup—a cold medicine loaded with compounds that end any pilot's career on contact with a drug screening—I knocked it out of Ivy's hands. Reid shoved me so hard I hit the coffee table. He got his four stripes anyway. Then he publicly destroyed my reputation, stood by while his fans harassed me off the internet, and smiled when I was pushed down a flight of stairs.
I died knowing he never looked back.
This time, I come back as myself: senior aviation medical officer, five years into a relationship with a man I now see clearly. When Ivy holds out that same cup with that same bright smile, I already know exactly what's in it.
I take a step back.
"Drink it while it's hot," I tell him. "Don't leave a drop."
I spent one lifetime being everyone's safety net. Not this time.

A hormonal condition pushed my weight to two hundred pounds, and for three years, this boarding school made sure I never forgot it.

The ringleader was the guy every girl worshipped.

And beside him stood his girlfriend, the one who always stepped in at my worst moments with a soft voice and a sympathetic look, like she was doing me a favor.

Everyone called her an angel. Only I knew the truth: every time she "helped," things got worse.

One day, she handed me a candy in front of everyone. "Here. Something sweet always helps."

I didn't feel like I had a choice.

That night, a demon showed up at the foot of my bed.

"Congratulations. You ate the pact candy. I'll grant you three wishes — money, beauty, lifespan. You name it, I'll make it happen."

My whole body shook. Three years of humiliation, and finally there was a way out. Wealth, beauty, revenge. All I had to do was ask.

Then the demon's expression shifted, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"There's a catch, though. The real pact-holder is someone else. Whatever you wish for, the one who gave you that candy gets double."

The words I was about to say died in my throat.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

Double?

That's way more interesting than three wishes.

The luxury cruise ship in the high seas had become a floating steel coffin for the beautiful CEO and me.
Just a door away, the corridor was teeming with slithering, tentacled Mimics. The wet, crunching sounds of them chewing on raw flesh were enough to make anyone’s scalp go numb.
Inside the pitch-black storage cabin—measuring barely three square meters—the usually aloof and untouchable Ice Queen of the corporate world was so terrified she had her flawless body pressed desperately against my chest.
In this extreme claustrophobia, her scalding body heat generated a fierce friction against me in the face of absolute despair.
"Keep me alive. Everything I have... is yours."

If a zombie opens its bloody maw at you — not to eat you, but to trade for a steak —

Do you take the deal?

I opened a wasteland exchange with a hundred thousand tons of frozen meat, priced everything with a barcode scanner, and used the Law of the Abyss as my guarantee.

When the mechanical army surrounded my cold storage, I hit the citywide broadcast:

"Big order, open to all — whoever tears apart the man on that heavy truck eats as much meat as they want."

For Joey, I shouldered the blame for a commercial crime and survived five years behind bars—alone, even through a miscarriage.

With only five days left on my sentence, his secretary flaunted a “bonus” transfer from him—521,314—and when I left one mild comment, she blocked me.

I got released early on Christmas, wanting to surprise my husband. Instead, I pushed open our bedroom door and found Joey and Betty in our marital bed, deep in their sick little games.

And then I overheard a phone call that shattered everything: my little sister, Sansa, hadn’t died from a surgical “accident” at all. Joey had bribed the surgeon and had her heart cut out—so his mistress could gain a werewolf’s healing ability and keep having some perverted sex on bed.

He lied to me, used me, murdered my sister—and still mocked me for I was nothing without him.

What he doesn’t know is that I’m the daughter of an Alpha. I cut my family off for him once. Now I’m taking everything back—divorce, vengeance, and a rec

When The Wrong One Loves You Right
Enemies make the best lovers...

Evelyn Rodriguez needs to find who murdered her sister. But her only suspect is sexy as hell and every kind of wrong. Suddenly Evelyn's not sure if it's determination that's got her pulse racing–or something altogether less appropriate. Worse of all, she has to live under the same roof with him.

Supernova Jason Lyndon, burnt by experience and casual flings is torn between taking the offer of the man he despises the most or the woman that annoys him the most. Either way, he wasn't about to go to jail for something he didn't do. He realized too late chosing Evelyn's offer was a terrible idea. She didn't only arouse all his sexual antennas but started pulling down the firm wall– he's spent years building– around his heart.

CRIME. SUSPENSE. ROMANCE.

She was claimed.

She was broken.

Now they both want her back but this time she makes the rules.

Carols life was never her own.

First an Alpha who called her his fated mate raised her under his iron fist molding her into the perfect survivor.

Then a stranger with hypnotic blue eyes took her body and vanished without a trace.

Years later both men return.

One demands her absolute submission.

The other awakens a hunger she cannot suppress.

But they are both lying.

Because Carol is not just a pawn fought over by two powerful men.

She is the missing crown in a deadly game between werewolves and vampires.

Her blood holds the secret that could rewrite the war between species.

And the closer she gets to the truth

The more dangerous her desire becomes.

Loving either of them could destroy her.

Choosing neither?

A massacre will follow.

Unless she finds a third path.

Not as their mate. Not as their prey.

But as the hunter.

"I promise I didn't do anything that day". He cups my face and stares deeply into my eyes.
"I want to believe you but I can't". I place my hands on his. I close my eyes and let the tears fall.

I feel a soft kiss on my cheeks trailing down to my neck. His hands move up my back as he claims my lips in his. My tears flow freely. He pushes me to the wall gently and claim my lips again. I let my hands do what they have been itching to do and run my fingers through his soft hair.


When Isabel Díaz finds out about her boyfriend and soon-to-be baby daddy's betrayal on Christmas Eve, she packs up and leaves.
Two years later, she is unexpectedly transferred back to America. She later discovers that this is Jaxon Slade's doing. Moving back there right before Christmas feels like déjà vu.
Will the health of their child bring them together and allow him to redeem himself or will it drift them further apart?

Inks Game

Life was good, the club was at peace. I rode, I partied and I inked my art onto peoples skin.
But God it was boring.
Right up until Molly moved in next door. Sweet, beautiful and clearly hiding something, she came in like a wrecking ball and took us all by surprise.
We all wanted the single mum. We all made the bet.
But the more I learnt about her, the more I realised that this was a game I couldn’t afford to lose.
Friendships and loyalties might be tested, but I was playing for keeps.

Phantoms and Lies

I know what everyone says about me.
I’m broody but more than anything I know how to keep myself hidden.
Which makes me the perfect person to go and investigate the disappearance of one of my club brothers, sisters. I was to watch out for her sister and keep her safe until the other one could be found, that’s all.
No touching.
And definitely no falling in love.
But the more I watched Rancher's little sister, the harder that became because I was pretty sure Clara has a secret and it was going to blow everything apart.

(Dive back into the world of the Lost Reapers, catch up with old friends and fall in love all over again in this new exciting installment)

Cover designer RJ Creatives

“Dad… please… help me…” I pleaded, my shattered ribs piercing my lungs, blood soaking the stretcher.
But Richard, the hospital's top surgeon and my biological father, didn't even glance at me. Instead, he rushed to the next bed.
“Don't be afraid, Chloe. I'm here,” he cooed to his stepdaughter, who merely had a tiny scratch on her arm. “Get the best equipment over here now!” he roared.
As the heart monitor flatlined and my soul left my broken body, I realized the chilling truth: in the choice between life and death, my father gladly let me die.

In order to rush to comfort his assistant whose apartment was leaking, Richard signed his name hastily without even glancing at the documents on the table.
I put away the divorce agreement with a wry smile.
When he and my son completely disappeared, he finally panicked.
Three months later .
He knelt down on the streets of Chicago in despair, begging me to remarry him.
My six-year-old son looked coldly at his biological father and said, "Get lost, you bad uncle! You don't deserve to be my dad!"

My fiancée, with whom I've been in a relationship for three years, has threatened to break off our engagement for the hundredth time, forcing me to donate a kidney to her adopted brother, who's faking illness and acting like a hypocrite.

My biological parents even threatened to sever ties with me: "You have a healthy body. Ian has nothing but us. You can't even bear to part with a kidney. You're so selfish and cold-blooded!"

They don't know that my hands, which I used to play the piano, had already been crushed by gangsters while cleaning up their mess; they also don't know that at this moment, I have a critical illness notice for late-stage bone cancer in my pocket.

Seeing the undisguised disgust and indifference in my fiancée's eyes, I swallowed the taste of blood in my throat and calmly signed the consent form for the live organ removal.

"Okay, I'll donate. I'll give you back my life along with it."

Later, I died like a dog on the rusty operating table of a shady clinic, my bones and marrow completely drained.

But when I was truly reduced to dust and left without even a complete corpse... the truth about my vicious foster brother faking illness was exposed.

The aloof and arrogant female CEO who once treated me like trash went completely mad overnight.

She knelt desperately before my nameless grave, plunged a sharp knife into her abdomen, and collapsed in a pool of blood, pleading for me to see her one more time.

In her past life, Serena stopped her brother's kidney donation and bore the blame for every family heartbreak that followed.
Reborn, she watches him willingly throw away his promising basketball career to save his lover—and she walks away.
When fate abandons her brother and her family tears itself apart, Serena carves out a brilliant, unapologetic life for herself.

On my son's seventh birthday, he hid behind my husband's first love and shouted at me, "You're a bad woman! She's my real mom!"
My husband was even crueler. He threw me out of the house without a second thought.
"To me, you were nothing but a surrogate."
Heartbroken, I walked away—and later adopted an abandoned little boy.
Years passed, when my husband finally learned the truth about the woman he had always protected, he came to me with our biological son, both of them kneeling before me in tears, begging for forgiveness.
Holding my adopted son's hand, I smiled calmly.
"Sorry. I only have one son."

In the year 3000, magic and technology flourish side by side.
Wielders of magic are no longer myth… They’re real and revered.
“Joel,” a humble wizard living a quiet life,
accidentally spends his last coin on gemstones,
leaving him broke and desperate!
To make ends meet, he becomes a livestreamer,
broadcasting his mysterious magical lifestyle
just to get through each day.
But then…
His streams catch the attention of “Jaden,”
the heir to a gemstone empire and an art collector obsessed with a centuries-old painting of a ginger-haired, opal-eyed wizard—
a figure he’s searched for his whole life.
Until finally… he finds Joel online.
Is it fate, or something more, that draws them together?
Can Joel unlock the mysteries of Jaden’s past?
A timeless love story infused with magic and technology will change both of their lives forever…

"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."

My wife brought her first love back to my cloud penthouse for an affair, and even attempted to steal the corporation's core code. Caught red-handed, she showed no remorse, instead scolding me condescendingly: "He is my guest! How dare you touch him?!"

Without even raising an eyelid, I snapped my fingers. Heavy combat robots instantly ripped apart the first love's cybernetic spine, and a beam of energy burned the man into a cripple. I then threw down a disownment agreement, cutting off her elite privileges with one click, and tossed the two of them like garbage into the lower-class slums drenched in acid rain.

"Trash belongs in the trash can." I swirled my wine glass, sneering.

My first love was adopted by our family, and he promised he would always be there for me.
But after my dad passed away in a car accident, I found him with another woman in our bedroom.
He told everyone Caroline was his true love—that he only saw me as a sister—and claimed I was the one who was pestering him.
I was shamed by everyone. The stress gave my mother a stroke, and Caroline even had someone run me over, costing me an eye.
Seven years later, holding flowers, I ran into them outside a convenience store.
Arthur's son looked at me pityingly. "Dad, this lady lost an eye… Is she selling flowers? Should we buy some?"

"Moon Goddess," I prayed. "Please—save my baby. Save us both. I'll do anything."
The knife plunged into my chest. Pain exploded—white-hot, consuming. Blood poured over my skin.
The bond with Kael flared—bright and desperate—reaching for him one last time. But he didn’t come. He was with Clarissa, believing her lies, unaware of the child we created.
The second stab tore into my stomach.
“No,” I gasped. “The baby—please. Not my baby—”
They didn’t stop.
The blade fell again and again, until I felt nothing at all. Until the world faded to gray.
As my blood soaked the snow, my final thought was a curse:
Moon Goddess—if you care for me at all, give me one more chance. I’ll make them pay.
Aria Winters, an abused omega, learns her fated mate is Alpha Kael, bound to Luna Clarissa in a loveless political marriage. One forbidden night leaves Aria pregnant with the Alpha’s true heir.
When Clarissa learns the truth, she sends three assassins to kill Aria and her unborn child. Aria dies alone in the snow.
But the Moon Goddess offers a second chance. Time rewinds—Aria returns with her memories intact, and her wolf fully awakened.
In the love triangle, no longer a broken omega, she rises with power, purpose, and vengeance in her veins.
Rebirth to Be His Luna—not for love, but for vengeance.

Matilda Fairfax
I had always believed the rule that powerful she-wolves could only serve as academy teachers was unfair, but I had no choice except to obey.
At thirty-one, I had never found my mate. Then, on the night of my students' graduation, fate played its cruelest joke. My mate turned out to be one of my own students.
A forbidden relationship could never be allowed, especially when he was a royal. Yet he pursued me relentlessly, cherished me, and promised to make me his queen.
On the day of his coronation, he shattered every promise. He rejected me before everyone and chose another she-wolf of lower rank.
As if that humiliation wasn't enough, I became the daughter of a traitor overnight, condemned to suffer for my father's sins.
Then came the king's order:
"Travel to the far north and marry the dark Lycan King. Fulfill your duty, and your family's freedom will be yours."
With no other choice, I journeyed north and stood before the feared Lycan King's pack, expecting nothing but despair.
Priel Roake
For generations, werewolves had been the sworn enemies of Lycans. Every she-wolf sent to my kingdom as a peace offering eventually took her own life, so when another arrived, everyone believed her fate would be no different.
But when I returned to the palace, she had not only survived, she had claimed her crown and begun setting my kingdom right in ways no one else ever had.
Even then, I wanted nothing to do with her. She despised everything about me and wished me dead.
Unfortunately, my wolf had other plans.
He wanted her. He wanted her wolf.
Before I realized it, I found myself craving every part of the woman who hated me.
The cruelest part was that I had very little time left because of the curse I carried.
Yet all I wanted was to spend whatever days remained making her smile... even if she could never love me back.

The legendary general Victor was sentenced to death, and everyone thought he had already been buried in the grave.
Until a phone call came through ,
"Dad, help!... They took Mom away."

“Don’t worry. She can’t see a thing.”

The familiar male voice came from behind the half-open door.

“So she wouldn’t know even if I kissed you right now?”

A woman laughed softly and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Only a few steps away, Rosalie watched the man she had loved for years lower his head and kiss another woman.

What they didn’t know was that her sight had returned.

The betrayal wasn’t even the cruelest part. When Rosalie checked their records, she discovered that the marriage she believed was real had never been legally registered. The man who had promised to protect her forever had used her blindness to cheat right in front of her—and now he planned to marry another woman and steal everything that should have belonged to Rosalie.

If he could give her a fake marriage, she could come back with a real husband.

So Rosalie married Cassian Thackeray.

The moment they signed the papers, she recognized him.

He was the firefighter who had once carried her out of a burning building—the mysterious man she had been searching for ever since.

But Rosalie said nothing.

Cassian believed he had married a fallen heiress who simply needed a legal husband. Rosalie believed he was nothing more than a dangerous, emotionally untouchable fire chief.

Their rules were simple: separate bedrooms, separate lives, and absolutely no falling in love.

But Cassian was always there when someone tried to humiliate her, his arm locking possessively around her waist.

“I’m her husband,” he warned. “Who gave you permission to touch her?”

And when Rosalie treated his injuries late at night, her fingers traced the hard planes of his bare, heated chest. It was supposed to be medical. Nothing more.

Until he trapped her between his arms, their mouths barely an inch apart.

“Your hands are shaking,” he murmured.

“It’s a professional response.”

“Is that so?” His palm slowly closed around the back of her neck, his voice dropping lower. “Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

Again and again, they tested the boundaries. Again and again, they almost kissed—only to stop at the final inch.

Then Cassian came home before dawn, smelling of smoke and cold rain, and found the lamp she had left burning and the milk she had kept warm for him.

“You waited for me all night.”

“I forgot to turn off the light.”

Cassian stared at her, his thumb pressed against the frantic pulse in her wrist.

“Rosalie, your body is much more honest than your mouth.”

She was beginning to forget that their marriage was only a contract. She was beginning to forget that she had married him merely to reclaim everything stolen from her.

But then Cassian’s signature appeared on confidential corporate documents.

And Lucian Thackeray—the mysterious billionaire heir who never showed his face in public—had the same unforgettable gray-blue eyes as her husband.

As Rosalie begins digging into the man sleeping just one room away, she realizes Cassian has never told her who he truly is.

And their marriage may never have been an accident.

“Are you not… mad at me?” I asked breathlessly. “That I’m a girl?”

He gripped both sides of my arms. His eyes scanned my face as he cupped both sides of my face tightly between his hands. “I don’t care… I don’t care that you lied… I love you either way,” he panted and pressed his lips against mine.

My hockey stick landed against the ice with a loud clank as I began to kiss him back.

He didn’t hate me anymore.

William didn’t hate me anymore!!


Daphne Sinclair is an obsessed fan of a hockey player, William Hollander. When William suddenly announces that he would quit hockey after high school, Daphne gets a crazy idea.

She would attend William’s high school, dressed like a boy, and try to get into the school’s hockey team. This way she would be close to William and try to get him to keep playing.

Will Daphne’s plan work?

Will she get into the team, or will the school figure out that she is a woman and send her away before she even gets a chance to carry out her plan?

I ranked first and snagged the most prestigious job offer in the city. Yet, not a single person congratulated me.
Because for the past twenty years, every top student who received this offer from the medical school "committed suicide" that very night.
Reporters blocked the school gates, grinning as they asked if I planned to jump off a building or swallow a bullet. My roommate grabbed my collar, screaming curses, wishing me dead.
Too bad they all completely miscalculated. I come from a filthy rich family, I’m perfectly sane, and top psychologists have signed off that I have zero suicidal tendencies. I have no reason to die.
So, I looked straight into the live cameras and declared: "If my body is found tomorrow morning, it’s not suicide. It’s murder!"
After all, for that final exam, I turned in a blank paper.

In my past life, my husband Pietro locked me in a dark basement and tortured me to death. My only crime? I couldn't get pregnant.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the family’s arranged marriage banquet.
Pietro was an illegitimate son, desperate to secure his status through marriage. In my previous life, he chose me—the Godfather's daughter. But this time, he publicly wrapped his arm around my ambitious stepsister, Livia.
Livia had always envied my status. She craved power and desperately wanted to be the Don's wife. Seeing them together, I knew instantly: Pietro had been reborn, too.
Don Ettore laid down the law: Whoever sired a son first would inherit Castel City.
My sister thought she had just been handed a crown.
But she didn't know the truth. The barren one... was Pietro.

For seven years of marriage, I don't dare make a sound around my husband.
All because he can hear everyone's voices—everyone's except mine. He says he's allergic to mine.
I've tried everything to change my voice—even had vocal cord surgery.
But no matter how hard I tried—every time he'd just cover his ears like I was hurting him.
I've cried myself to sleep so many times, feeling guilty.
Until our son's birthday.
Standing by our front door, our little boy grinned up at his dad and asked, "Dad, can I pretend to be allergic to mom's voice too? Just like you?"

I saved Theron’s life, and in return, he lined up his eight grandsons before me. Whoever I chose would be the next Alpha of the Frostvale Pack. My wolf instantly recognized Rhysand—my fated mate. I chose him without hesitation.
On our wedding night, the moment I touched him, he broke out in hives and gasped for air. The doctor said he was allergic to me. Overnight, I became the city's laughingstock. For three years, I walked on eggshells, terrified to even step near my own husband.
Until he was dosed with a lethal aphrodisiac. If not cured within two hours, he would die. I threw caution to the wind and climbed into his bed. Through an entire night of skin-to-skin contact, there were no hives, no suffocation. His "allergy" had miraculously vanished.
But at dawn, his ex-girlfriend Linnea walked in. Rhysand looked at me like I was garbage. "If Linnea hadn't saved me last night, I'd be dead."
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. But before I could even share the news, a raging fire buried that unspoken hope—along with my unborn child—in the ashes forever.
I finally understood. He was never allergic to me.
He just never loved me.

Exiled to the wasteland by wife and children? No problem, I'll open an arms factory there.
Everything stolen by a rival? No worries, his technology is garbage I discarded seven years ago.
My ex-wife throws me a repairman's business card and demands my knees? Fine, see you at the military academy ceremony tomorrow.
Her son, dressed in his rival's "super armor," goes around showing off, only to be exposed in public by my ten-year-old son: "With a 0.7-second delay, an S-class mutant could kill you three times."
My rival brings his private army to capture me?
My wife leads a regular army, smashing the dome and descending from the sky: "Try touching my husband!"
My rival, cornered, releases the Abyss Mother Beast?
I pilot Zero Mech, one-shotting her.
My ex-wife kneels in the ruins, crying. I don't even glance at her.
Betrayed me? You don't deserve it.

I thought love was enough.
I thought saving the Ember Claw Pack with everything I had—my heart, my loyalty, even my body—meant something. It led to a Moon Ceremony… and a marriage to Alpha William, the man I gave my soul to.
But love doesn’t protect you from betrayal.
Especially not when the one he truly wanted was never me.
I was glowing with the joy of carrying our pup when I walked in on him—holding her.
Quinn.
The fated mate everyone believed to be dead. Alive. Back. In his arms.
And me? Just the mistake he settled for.
"I only married you out of gratitude," he said, barely meeting my eyes.
Then, turning to Quinn with a softness I never got, he added, "If she hadn’t sold her ancestral land to save the pack, I would’ve never completed the Moon Ceremony with her."
And the final blow?
"So what if she found out? I’ll just say I thought she was you that night we slept together."
That night—The one I thought meant everything.
But it didn’t end with him.
His mother pointed her finger at m

“Chen Lu Xian,” a brilliant surgeon, meets his end—
only to awaken as “Chen Lu,” a disfigured and worthless noble son.
When fate takes a dramatic turn,
his new goal becomes clear: vengeance
and rising again as a miracle physician of unmatched skill.
Lu Xian uses a restaurant as a front…
while secretly operating a hidden clinic behind the scenes.
He trains handmaidens in the healing arts,
alongside their practice in martial cultivation.
Fate entangles Lu Xian with the Fourth Prince,
a war-torn man bearing wounds from the battlefield.
That one act of healing… alters his life forever—
when he is forced into marriage!
From celestial physician to imperial consort of the Fourth Prince,
how will Chen Lu use his wits to survive the treacherous tides of court intrigue?
A path lined with schemes, love, and fierce battles lies ahead…