449 Book(s) Related to That Girl Named Lila

Duke Orion von Hawthorne is feared by kingdoms, yet cursed with one weakness—he cannot produce an heir. Only a Velaryn woman can break that curse.
He never expected to find one in the Dark Forest.
Sylvara Nyx, wild and painted in gold, fights him like a cornered starfire beast. She is powerful. Untamed. Dangerous. And Orion takes her captive, determined to claim what he believes is his.
But what if the woman he captured… is the one thing he can never keep?

She saved his life. Now he’ll stop at nothing to claim hers.

Isla Monroe never expected to become entangled with the most feared man in Valmont City. As a struggling medical student haunted by her past, she only wanted to help when she saw a man drowning in a frozen lake. But the moment she pulled him from the icy depths, her fate was sealed.

That man was Lorenzo De Luca—billionaire, mafia boss, and a man who had given up on life. When he wakes in Isla’s tiny apartment, his first instinct is suspicion, not gratitude. In his world, kindness is a weakness, and trust is a death sentence. But Isla isn’t afraid of him, and that makes her dangerous.

Lorenzo disappears, but Isla isn’t free of him. A year later, he storms back into her life—not to thank her, but to claim her. His enemies have learned about the woman who saved him, and now she’s a target. The only way to keep her safe is to pull her into his dangerous world.

Saving him was just the beginning. Loving him might be her downfall.

In a tranquil town where spirituality and creativity flourish, Barbara, a lovely and sweet writer, dedicates her life to being a priestess, nurturing her sexual energy and connecting deeply with the universe. Her serene existence takes a dramatic turn one fateful night when Alessio, an enigmatic Italian who claims to be a wizard, arrives at her friend’s gathering. With his mesmerizing charm and undeniable attraction, he draws Barbara into a spellbinding world she never imagined.

However, their budding romance is soon overshadowed by a looming threat from beyond the stars. An alien invasion orchestrated by the ruthless warlord Caleb, the leader of a powerful extraterrestrial race, descends upon Earth. Unbeknownst to Barbara, Caleb is not just a conqueror; he is a being torn between duty and desire, captivated by Barbara’s ethereal spirit and strength.

As chaos erupts and the skies darken with alien ships, Barbara finds herself at the center of a cosmic struggle. Torn between her feelings for Alessio and the strange connection she feels with Caleb, she must navigate love and loyalty amidst the chaos of invasion. With the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, Barbara discovers a hidden power within herself that could either unite or destroy them all.

As the lines between love and allegiance blur, Barbara must confront her destiny and decide where her heart truly lies—between two worlds, two warriors, and the fight for survival against an alien empire.

On a starry night, Ludwika finds herself at a crossroads between the light and darkness of her desires. Since childhood, dance has been her only passion, a dream fueled by the glow of a mysterious astrologer who predicted a bright future filled with love and art. Now, as a rising star of the Royal Albert Company, Ludwika has the opportunity to dance the solo she has longed for: “The Death of the Swan.”
However, the soloist of her life is none other than Navil Paleta, the enigmatic new choreographer whose presence awakens forbidden feelings in Ludwika. As she prepares to play a role that could make her career, she must also battle the demons of unrequited love and societal expectations: she is engaged to Everth, a fate she does not want.
With each rehearsal under Navil’s command and each page she writes in her secret diary—where she captures her longings, disappointments and the pure magic of her feelings—Ludwika discovers that art is more than movement; it is transformation. Amidst strict routines and unexpected moments of vulnerability alongside Navil, she transcends the everyday and begins to question what “brilliant” really means. Can her muse also be the one who teaches her how to love?
Ludwika makes heart-wrenching decisions between following the path to success or what truly fills her heart. Will Ludwika choose to be true to herself or surrender to convention? Her dance is just beginning… the more she writes and delves into her diary, the more she discovers a new facet within herself… that of becoming a professional writer.

From the day I met him at the age of ten, I worked hard to improve myself, all just to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd. He promised to protect me for a lifetime. However, those twelve years turned out to be nothing but my own laughable obsession... He was no longer my brother.
After being sent to prison by him for three years, I returned with a vengeance. I was no longer the woman who loved him to the point of self-abasement!
I tore apart the homewreckers, trampled on the scum, and was about to ruthlessly punish the scumbag when... the man who had previously been cruel and indifferent to me suddenly became gentle and tender!

I was the Luna of the Luthor Pack, the fated mate of Alpha Vincent. I once crawled through a snowstorm, begging for his essence blood to save our dying daughter. His only answer? A boot to my hand and a sneer: "Dream on, you shameless whore."

He shackled me to a silver rack, forcing me to watch faked videos of my "infidelity." To him, I was a corrupt stray; to me, he was my life, my soul, and my tormentor. He finally spat, "Since you love being serviced by men, let my pack have their fill of you," and sold me at an underground auction.

That night, my world shattered. My daughter was tossed into a pit of mad wolves, and I was discarded like trash. But when I finally broke free, I didn't want his love—I wanted revenge. Yet, the moment I disappeared, the man who once stepped on my neck began to lose his mind, hunting the world to find me.

"Marcella, come back," he begged, eyes bloodshot with obsession.

I looked at him, my heart a hollow void. "Alpha, you're too late. I died the day you threw our daughter to the wolves."

She was rejected at her own mating ceremony.

Elara Whitmore’s world shatters when Alpha heir Kai Silvercrest chooses her best friend for power instead of love. Broken, humiliated, and exiled, she vanishes into the borderland with a rejected pregnancy and more hunters.

But she has planned that after two years, she returns in disguised as Sera Seahawks, and will destroy the man who ruined her life.

But when she steps into the borderland, she immediately knew that everything won't go as planned. And with all the new troubles she was still able to go back for revenge.

And for some bitter reasons, she hope it won't be too late for her plans to work

Sophia died betrayed—by a lover and a best friend. But death wasn't the end. She woke up in the body of Diana Spencer, a woman with her own tragic past and a cruel husband.

With a new chance at life, Sophia is no longer the woman to be taken down easily. Armed with Diana's memories and a burning desire for revenge, she's ready to reclaim what's hers and make her enemies pay. Vengeance never looked so sweet.

After getting married, my husband never touched me. I always thought he was asexual until one day, to my shock, I discovered he was having an affair!

Because he and his lover were too intense during sex, his lover ended up in the hospital!

What shocked me even more was that the person he was having an affair with was his sister!

At that moment, my heart felt like it was being scalded with boiling oil, the pain was excruciating...

Three years ago, Michael Smith was severely injured in a car accident and fell into a coma. The doctors said he was as good as a vegetable. His first love didn't hesitate to leave for further studies abroad. Meanwhile, I was forced into a marriage of convenience with him, arranged by his grandmother, so that I could take care of my sick mother. When he woke up, his first love had returned to the country, and I found myself pregnant. We went through morning sickness and the hardships of a ten-month pregnancy together. But then he filed for divorce, forcing me to leave with nothing. I struggled to pursue a career as a painter while carrying the pregnancy to term. Little did I know that his grandmother's will stipulated that all the assets originally meant for him would be given to me and the baby in my womb.

The day before my wedding, I unexpectedly walked in on my fiancé being intimate with his girlfriend in our wedding room. Faced with the scorn and ridicule of that scumbag, the only person who came to catch the cheater with me was a man I had only met once. He dragged me to the City Hall, but no one told me I had to fulfill marital duties!
I stepped back in horror, and the man smiled slightly, "What, you never thought about doing intimate things with me?"
"Michael, aren't we in a fake marriage?"
"Who said it's a fake marriage?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of displeasure in his tone.
I recalled my fiancé's betrayal and felt torn inside. But Michael's hot and deep kiss was irresistible.
"Be good, it'll be over soon," he murmured, his voice low and magnetic...

Mothers were supposed to love unconditionally. Mine didn't. In fact, she tried to kill me on my thirteenth birthday, when she saw just how different I was. My dad saved my life that night. He also took her away on an extended vacation, leaving me with an ever-absent uncle.
Five years later, solitude was something I lived by. I had to because I was different and people tended not to cope well with the unusual. In fact, they hated me for it, were even scared of me because of it.
I thought I was meant to live alone, until Isaac Grey took notice of me. He changed my life, taught me I wasn't the only one who was different, and I didn't need to be alone.
But with love comes sacrifice and then pain. Could I ever escape living in the dark?

In The Dark is created by Lila Rose, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Author

Warning – adult themes, 18 plus, abuse, violence, sex scene.

I am Lirael, fated mate of Kael Luthor, the Blackflame Alpha—and the Luna he destroyed with his own hands. Five years ago, Sera stole my identity as his savior and framed me as a traitor. Since then, Kael has hated me more than death.
Now my daughter, Aurora, is dying from Lycanthropic Decay. Only his source blood can save her.
He grips my chin and whispers coldly, “You want my blood for that bastard? Show me your sincerity.”
I tremble. “Kai… she is your daughter.”
But he refuses to believe me. And when Aurora’s life begins to fade, the lies buried for years finally start to crack…

I am sitting on a small purple love seat, tucked into a nook beside a fake fireplace at Alexander's, an upscale club/hotel in Manhattan. I’m dressed in a tight black mini-dress and Italian leather heels. And I am watching my husband flirt with another woman…
And… I want him to do this... I think.

I had picked her out myself...

“Her,” I said to Zane. She was sitting alone at the bar, high cheekbones, wavy hair with a shoulder-length blunt-cut, smooth golden skin, and striking brown eyes with a cat-eye look to them… She wore a tiny black micro-mini skirt and cream cropped top, showing off smooth, toned abs.

He had followed my gaze to her and smiled.

“Honey, you have good taste in women,” he said. He looked at me again, and I nodded. And then he had stood and walked to the bar, without looking back....


Natalie and Zane had been married for eight years. And… though Natalie deeply desired her man, pretty girls had always made her a bit... disarmed. Once Zane discovered Natalie's fantasy, he was only too eager to help her fulfill it… As long as he could watch.

But, will Natalie and Zane's relationship withstand another woman? Enter Sophia and the world of Alexander Accardi fashions, and Alexander's Members Only sex club...
Natalie and Zane's fears and desires collide as they enter into a world they never expected and explore secrets, fantasies, and the boundaries of their relationship...

On the night of the full moon trial, my fated mate, Alpha Kevin, chained me in silver and forced me to give birth before the entire pack.
“That bastard in your belly doesn’t deserve to live,” he said.
But when my baby cried, the priest trembled. “Blood of the Moon Goddess…”
Kevin still sent our child to the water dungeon to protect fragile, lying Hestia. She whispered, “Sister, your blood—and your baby’s heartblood—will make me Luna.”
They drained me, carved my flesh, ripped out my claws, and laid me on the altar to cut out my heart.
Before the blade fell, I bit down on the death-mimicking pill.
Everyone believed I was dead.
But when I woke beside Lucian, Alpha of Duskblood Pack, I swore: next time Kevin sees me, my new dark claws will tear out his heart.
But will Kevin truly let me go?

At my bastard father's birthday party, I was drugged by my sister Emily—and worse, she planned to have her boyfriend assault me. As the substance coursed through my veins, desire began overwhelming my rational mind. But in that moment of vulnerability, my contract husband saved me. I found myself burning only for him. What started as his attempt to help me through the drug's effects became a night of raw, passionate intimacy that shattered every boundary we'd carefully constructed. In his arms, I discovered a hunger I never knew existed, and he claimed me with a possessive intensity that left us both breathless...
*
When Amelia Thompson signed that marriage contract, she never knew her husband was an FBI undercover agent.
Ethan Black approached her to investigate Viktor Group—the corrupt corporation where her late mother worked. To him, Amelia was just another lead, possibly the conspirator's daughter he was sworn to destroy.
But three months of marriage changed everything. Her warmth and fierce independence dismantled every defense around his heart—until the day she vanished.
Three years later, she returns with their child, seeking the truth about her mother's death. And he's no longer just an FBI agent, but a man desperate to win her back.
A Marriage Contract. A Life-Changing Inheritance. A Heart-Shattering Betrayal.
This time, can love survive the ultimate deception?

I was the most insignificant girl at the Academy of Magic—a Muggle with no natural talent, hiding in the shadows with a concealment spell, just so I could secretly gaze at the golden boy who shone brighter than anyone else. He had saved me once in a rainstorm, and from that night on, I offered him my whole heart, content to be the silent shadow behind him. To get closer to him, I taught myself the most arcane spells through sheer grit, and even stayed up countless nights cultivating glowgrass, hoping it might help heal his battle wounds. I thought my quiet, enduring love would one day be seen—until the night before the ball, when his friends exposed the truth: his kindness toward me was nothing but a bet, a game to see if he could make a pathetic Muggle fall for him and then humiliate her. The crushed flowers, the words "haven't you made a fool of yourself enough?"—they were the final straw that shattered every last one of my humble illusions.

I fled into the Forbidden Forest, only to stumble into the arms of a dying beast-man deep in the misty woods. He was covered in wounds, black mist seeping from his flesh, and the cold stone I had worn around my neck since childhood suddenly burned hot—silver threads burst from it, binding us together as if fate itself was forcing me to save him. I poured every last drop of my magic into healing him, watching as his beastly form melted away, revealing a snow-white divine creature, and then a man so beautiful he looked like a god. When he woke, he said nothing—only pressed his cheek against my palm, then looked up at me with those dark-golden, slit-pupiled eyes, and kissed me. In a hoarse whisper, he said—

"I've finally found you."

In that moment, I realized that the light I had been chasing all along had pointed in the wrong direction from the very start. And the one who had been waiting for me in the abyss for a thousand years was now burning with a warmth so fierce, it could heal every scar I'd ever carried.

I thought my husband was my salvation.
Until I overheard him in the wine cellar, laughing and joking with my "attackers" from that night.
The gang rape that destroyed me was a show he orchestrated himself.

He married me only for inheritance rights.
He humiliated me, branded me, took away my child, and made my life a living hell.
But he forgot one thing—
The ancient blood oath of the Corleone family states clearly:
If a husband betrays his marriage, everything he owns shall belong to his wife.

This time, I'm no longer the rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
This time, I write the ending.

I died the day I caught my fiancé cheating.

I had walked in on my cousin and my fiancé, completely naked in the backseat of a brand-new Porsche. It was a car bought with stolen money—embezzled from the estate of my recently deceased grandmother, Margaret.

Panic had set in the moment I discovered them. To stop me from calling the cops, he slammed his foot on the gas.

As a pool of warm blood spread beneath my head, I heard him lying to the first responders: "She’s mentally unstable. She threw herself right in front of the car."

I died exactly like that—labeled a hysterical, suicidal woman.

But just when I thought it was all over, my eyes snapped open.

The hot blood that had just blurred my vision, the shattering agony in my bones—it was all gone.

I clutched my pregnancy test results in my hand, standing outside the door of Ethan's office.

I wanted to surprise my husband with this news.

Instead, I overheard a conversation about how to "permanently remove" me from his and our daughter's lives.

When that dealer tortured me, my dad, a narcotics cop, and my mom, the city’s chief medical examiner, were busy celebrating my sister’s win in the volleyball semifinals. To get back at my dad for destroying his drug network three years earlier, that man cut my throat. Right before I died, I called my dad. Before I hung up, he said, “Cut it out. Serena’s game is what mattered most right now.”

I thought my husband was cheating, so I followed him to catch him in the act, only to witness him kill someone on our wedding anniversary.

His hands were still covered in blood when he touched my red hair and asked me what was wrong.

Was he the legendary "Red Hair Reaper"?

When the police came knocking the next day, I told them everything.

But they would never know—even the murder I "witnessed" that night was nothing but a performance staged for them from beginning to end.

My three-year-old daughter hides behind the sofa whenever I try to hold her now.

“Mommy is scary,” she whispers, clutching her stuffed bear like a shield.

I thought it was just a toddler’s overactive imagination.

Until I checked the camera feed in my own bedroom.

I watched a woman who looked exactly like me step out of the shadows of our antique mirror, slip into my husband’s bed, and kiss him.

When they shoved me into the flames, I fought through the blinding pain to call my brother, Ethan Bennett. Fire licked at my skin, twisting my vision, but the call finally went through.

"What is it now?" He sounded distracted, like he was checking off a guest list.

"Ethan, please, help—" My voice was shattered, choked by the searing heat.

"Can't you just give it a rest for one single day?" he snapped, cutting me off. "Selina and I are getting married this weekend. If you pull another stunt, I swear I'll—"

The call died right as the flames swallowed me whole.

Agony consumed every nerve before my eyes closed for good, his unfinished threat still echoing in my ears.

But the good news is, Ethan... you don't have to swear anymore. Because I was dead.

"Did you bring one back?" My mom, Siobhan, urged.
I pushed my half-empty mug to the center of the cafe table. The campus buzzed around me, students stressing over minor things like finals.
"I’m still at school, Mom."
"The Summer Solstice is in exactly one month, Maeve." The line crackled.
"If you cross that water empty-handed, Finn is going to the pens. Are you going to let your own brother be taken?"

My daughter begged me, tears in her eyes, to take her to gymnastics camp—just the two of us.

I thought it was her way of proving she loved me.

I was wrong.

In that hotel room in Toronto, I overheard my husband's voice—with another woman.

“Don't worry, Sophia will find a way to stay a few more days. I promised her that blue limited-edition leotard.”

“Her body now… after giving birth, it's ruined.”

In that moment, my world collapsed.

I thought I'd only been betrayed by my husband.
But the daughter I raised with everything I had—she was his accomplice.

The child I nurtured with my own hands kept clearing the path: so that woman could sleep in my bed, wear the lingerie I could no longer fit into, sneer in front of the mirror at every single mark my body earned from bringing life into this world.

I once believed that giving up my career would be enough to hold my family together.

But they joined hands to tell me: my sacrifice was never honored. It was a joke.

When a woman who has given everything to her family finally wakes up—

Her revenge will make every single one of them remember exactly what they did.

My daughter Lily was shot dead while she was performing on her own stage.
I rushed forward to shield her, and a speaker crashed down onto my right shoulder. The bone shattered.
My husband, Vincent, “shot the gunman dead” at once and sealed off the entire opera house.
When I woke up in the hospital room, the pain almost suffocated me. My right shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages, and when I tried to raise my arm, all I felt was a numb.
“…This isn’t what we agreed on.” The doctor’s voice was low and unsteady. “We only needed her blood sample for matching. Why did it have to go this far?”
“Lily’s blood type is a perfect match. This is the best possible outcome,” Vincent said. “I married Elena for this moment. I’ve been waiting for it.”
The doctor was silent for a few seconds. “But she’s your daughter… There’s no need to sacrifice a life, even if she is a Salaceno.”
Vincent cut him off. “You know how long an artificial heart can last. Camila’s daughter won’t hold out for long. I can’t put her through another surgery.”
“Camila’s child is the one I should cherish.”
At that moment, my blood ran cold. In his eyes, my daughter was nothing but an organ container.
He had no idea. All that talk about protecting his precious daughter—she wasn't even his.

They told me the baby was gone, but they didn't tell me my heart was being carved out, too.

I woke up on the operating table, paralyzed. Through my blurred vision, I saw my beloved husband, Marco, trembling with excitement as he held my medical chart.

"Her blood is perfect," he whispered. "It is a perfect match for Isabella. We can proceed with the transplant now."

"Finally. It wasn't in vain that I brought her back." My revered father let out a sigh of relief. "If it weren't for this day, how would someone who wandered outside for so many years be qualified to step into this house again?"

When my husband said "I love you," he actually meant "Your heart is perfect for the woman I truly love."

I couldn't scream; I couldn't move.

I could only watch helplessly as the silver scalpel pierced toward my chest, while my sister, Isabella, lay on the operating table next to me, smiling in her sleep.

I was never a long-lost daughter, nor was I a beloved wife.

I was just a mobile blood bank waiting to be slaughtered.

"Olivia, the Wentworth family has no use for a pathetic excuse-maker like you."
My stepbrother, Dorian, watched with dead eyes as I tumbled down the second-floor stairs.
The agonizing pain of my shattered legs sent cold sweat pouring down my body.
"Dorian... save me..." I reached out to him in complete despair.
He just frowned in disgust, turned his back, and shut the door.
From inside, I could hear Mia's smug giggles.
Three days later, Mia stole my name and triumphantly took my guaranteed admission spot at Juilliard.
As for me, Dorian told the public I had "committed suicide from a mental breakdown after failing the audition."
In excruciating pain and sheer hopelessness, I took my last breath.
When I opened my eyes again, I shot up from the sofa.
I was reborn.
Back to exactly three days before the tragedy struck.

To save my dying brother, I signed a million-dollar contract: sleep with a comatose billionaire to secure an heir. My boyfriend swore it was just a harmless formality. One night. One permanently locked door. But as I nervously approached the mattress, the paralyzed heir suddenly opened his eyes. And he whispered a terrifying warning...

On our one-year anniversary, my husband Julian gifted me an antique ring.
Putting it on cost me everything.
I miscarried, grew paralyzed, and rapidly withered into a husk. And Julian? He convinced everyone that the trauma had simply driven a grieving mother insane.
Eventually, even I believed him.
It wasn’t until the moment of my murder that the truth finally clicked.
The ring wasn't a blessing; it was a parasitic siphon.
Then, I opened my eyes—
I was back at the anniversary dinner.

After I got pregnant with my second child, our two foster kids turned into monsters.
Ten-year-old Silas started hiding crushed glass in my prenatal meals. His eight-year-old sister, Lyra, would stand outside my door at night, whispering, "Die, Vivienne. It's your time to die."
When Silas violently shoved me toward the stairs, I packed their bags, ready to send them back to the agency.
But my five-year-old daughter, Elodie, clung to them, begging me through tears.
Foolishly, I relented. I let them stay.
Shortly after, I lost my baby.
I closed my eyes in absolute despair—only to open them and find myself back on the exact day I discovered I was pregnant.

I almost died on the operating table trying to give Alexander Volkov a child, unaware he already had a pair of illegitimate twins with his childhood sweetheart.
My heart stopped when I saw the DNA results. Alec, the man who made the New York underworld tremble, the man who flew back on a private jet just to hold my hand, was a flawless liar.
I turned my face away, tears soaking the hospital pillow. My hand drifted to my belly. God had finally decided to give me a break after five years of needles and agony—I was pregnant. But now, it felt like the cruelest joke.
He pulled me into his arms, smelling of expensive cologne and... baby formula.
"Tell me what's wrong, honey. Whoever made you unhappy, I'll make them pay."
I stared into his lying eyes and made my decision.
I would vanish with his unborn child, leaving him to rot in eternal regret.

I once loved Ryan deeply and helped him become the Alpha, only to be rewarded with chains in a dungeon and the mocking laughter of him and his mistress.

Fate gave me a second chance—I woke up reborn on the morning of the mate selection ceremony. There he was, still ordering me around in front of everyone, expecting me to play the obedient servant.

Everyone tried to convince me that Ryan, the man who killed me, is the "right choice."

Yet I chose Connor—the man feared by the entire clan, the one who will bring ruin to the clan for the sake of his one true love.

This time, I refuse to be the stepping stone on Ryan's climb to power.

I'm going to make everyone see who truly holds the reins.

I stepped out of my OB-GYN appointment, only to be crushed by a speeding truck while my husband watched from the opposite curb, not even blinking.
I choked on my own blood before waking up on the exact same street corner.
I thought I had been reborn, but then I saw a glowing red number "4" burned into the skin of my forearm.
What the hell was happening?

I was the hottest A-list actress in Hollywood, until a few deepfaked videos of me "abusing assistants" and malicious photos of my "rotting face" dragged me straight to hell.
In just one month, I became a monster despised by the entire internet.
Facing tens of thousands of death threats telling me to "die with a rotting face."
They wanted me to die crying. I didn't. Instead, I decided to express my deepest gratitude to the bullies who ruined my life.
And my "thank you" is going to cost a fortune.
But I never imagined the real monster wasn't hiding behind a screen—he was holding the syringe.

"What kind of sick game are you playing?" my husband, Mark, snapped through the phone.
I stared at my heavy plaster cast and said nothing.
In my previous life, distant relatives brought a bag of cash to my clinic, begging me to bump my cousin up the surgery waitlist. I refused.
By morning, the money vanished.
Security footage showed someone in my scrubs, with my exact face, stealing it.
My colleague, Sarah, and my husband accused me of taking the bribe. They destroyed my career. My cousin died waiting.
Driven mad by grief, her parents ran me down with their truck.
Reborn, when I saw the new surveillance footage, I finally understood who she 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.

"You sure dispatch called this... natural causes?" I gripped the steering wheel, staring at the perfect suburban house.
"That's what they said," Gates muttered. The victim's father, Arthur, stood at the door in pressed khakis, weeping.
He swore his daughter, Grace, died in her sleep last night after eating vanilla pudding.
But the moment we stepped inside, a suffocating cocktail of cheap lavender spray and rotting meat punched me in the sinuses.
In the living room, SpongeBob SquarePants was blasting at maximum volume. Grace was slumped in a recliner. When Gates gently pinched her wrist to lift her arm, a sickeningly soft, tearing rip echoed in the room.
Her grayish skin completely degloved, fused to the leather armrest. Beneath the liquefied muscle tissue, frantic rows of tiny white maggots wriggled into the exposed bone.
A body that died "last night" doesn't breed maggots.

"Whoever left that wild strawberry scent on my bed is dead," the severely germaphobic captain posted.
I froze. It was me.
Now, my idiot brother just locked me in Ronan's room to pay off a debt. Ronan ignored my boyish disguise. Leaning in, his nose brushed my hood.
"Wild strawberry," he whispered, a dangerous smirk forming. "It WAS you."

At seven years old, he pulled me from the rapids—and for the eleven years that followed, I loved this man I called "Uncle."

Then Sophia appeared. She accused me of pushing her down the stairs, and Michael didn't spare me so much as a glance before throwing me out into the storm. I knocked until my hands were raw and bleeding. He never opened the door.

Three years later, he showed up at my workplace, demanding I "come home" with him. His pregnant girlfriend flaunted a twelve-week ultrasound, cooing about how the baby already "looked just like him"—then staged yet another fall, told yet another lie, let out yet another shriek, casting me once more as the heartless monster.

But this time, I won't beg.

This time, I know secrets they don't.

Because that miscarriage three years ago? That baby? That ultrasound?

None of it was real.

The question is—how much has Michael already lost, and can he see the truth before the one person who ever truly loved him is gone for good?

Did you slaughter your roommates?" the detective sneered. "No!" I screamed. The polygraph technician stared at the flawless readouts confirming I told the absolute truth. I was innocent. But if a human didn't tear those girls apart in our locked dorm... then what exactly is hunting me now?

"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.

My birthday was never truly mine.

Everyone was busy making sure she was comfortable, happy, and protected.
When she deliberately handed me chamomile tea—knowing I was allergic—they told me not to hurt my sister’s good intentions and forced me to drink it.

My brother accused me of being jealous and locked me in the basement.

They all forgot about me to celebrate her birthday, even my fiancé.

Lying there, I realized something worse than pain—I was replaceable.

That was the day I understood the truth about my family.
I was dying on “my” birthday, and no one chose me.

That was supposed to be one of the most anticipated days of my life—the wedding of my best friend, Sarah.
But when I put on my bridesmaid dress, she called me a bitch.
"Get out." Sarah looked at me like I was trash.
"I don't want to see you at my wedding."
I stood frozen in place, staring down at the broken Cartier bracelet she had given me, now lying scattered on the floor.

An hour ago, at the company’s press conference, I had just helped my husband Carlisle quell the ninety-ninth scandal of his affair.
Now, he has my assistant Russell pinned against my office desk, kissing him, his hand slipping under Russell’s miniskirt and groping wildly.
In that moment, I’ve already planned the publicity spin for the hundredth time.
But I’m not sure if my dear husband Carlisle and his lover will make it that far.
Because the revenge banquet I’ve been preparing for three years is about to begin.

After dreaming of making love with Anthony for the 99th time, I finally decided to confess my feelings to him.
But just as I reached the bodyguards' private lounge, I saw him under the moonlight, reverently kissing a photo of my sister Seraphina.
After he released his desires, a werewolf quietly appeared:
"Alpha Anthony, if Thea knew your true identity as the king of the Thunder Tribe, she’d probably be shocked."
Anthony smirked disdainfully:
"What does it matter? I came here only to get close to Seraphina. As for the others, I don’t care whether they live or die."
His words sent me fleeing in despair. My heart felt as if it were being crushed by a massive wolf’s claw, the pain so intense that tears streamed down my face.
So it was all just my own wishful thinking.
Resigned, I walked into my father’s room and said:
"Father, I am willing to enter a political marriage with Alpha Caleb."
On the Moon Goddess Festival three days later, I would marry the brutal Alpha Caleb.
And as for Anthony—I would personally deliver him to Seraphina.

During a police operation to pursue a serial killer, my father-in-law was taken hostage by the criminals while protecting me, and was dragged behind a vehicle for several kilometers.
I urgently called my husband for help: “Cedric, Dad has been taken hostage by the criminals. Send more people right away!”
My husband was the police department’s top marksman—only his sharpshooting skills could target the enemy and save his father!
But to my surprise, my husband just sneered, “Dahlia, I’ve only been out with Nalisa for an hour. To win my attention, you’ll make up any lie, won’t you?”
Hearing the call end, I was frozen in shock.
Then, I received a message from Nalisa with 99 bed photos of her and my husband.
“Cedric says, if your dad dies, so be it. He has no time for you now—he’d rather die in my arms.”
Anger and sorrow enveloped me. Watching my husband’s father crushed to death by the vehicle, I finally understood:
He must have thought it was my father who was taken hostage.

Seamus O'Sullivan, Don of the Irish Mafia, forged a custom gold crest ring to find the woman he’d met at that ball.

He decreed that whoever could wear it would become his bride.

We had all died trying to claim it.

I had already watched my stepsister starve herself to the bone to wear it, only to take a bullet to the head on her wedding night.

I'd seen my stepmother hack off her own finger to force it on, earning herself cement shoes at the bottom of the Atlantic.

By my third life, they pushed me out, and I slipped the ring on easily. I really thought I was his bride. But on our wedding night, when the Don kissed my inner thigh, he snapped—and smothered me with a pillow.

He forced it over my face. I thrashed and clawed, but he pinned me down.

"Why isn't it her?!" he roared through the feathers. "Where is she?!"

Now, I was awake again. The fourth lifetime.

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?