3451 Book(s) Related to who is paula kunde in pieces of her

In my previous life, on the night of our wedding anniversary, my husband Bryan brought his pregnant mistress, Victoria, into our home. Driven to the edge, I slashed my wrists to force him to kick her out.
No one could have predicted her blood sugar would suddenly crash in the freezing storm outside. She collapsed into a flooded ditch and froze to death before anyone found her.
Everyone ruled it a tragic accident, but Bryan decided her blood was on my hands.
Months later, when I went into labor, he abused his position as my doctor to deliberately delay my care. He left me to writhe through dozens of hours of agonizing contractions and severe hemorrhaging until I bled out.
When, with hands slick with my own blood, I begged him to save our baby, he calmly peeled off his soiled surgical gloves. The look in his eyes was merciless.
"Heartbroken?" he sneered. "Good. Take the brat down to hell with you to keep Victoria company."
An icy, suffocating darkness swallowed me whole.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact night of our anniversary—the very moment Bryan, bringing the freezing rain in with him, protectively guided Victoria through my front door.

My serpent mate has locked me in the castle, nine months pregnant. A dozen serpent guards watch me day and night. I can't even leave the room.

A month ago, his brother died in a hunting accident. He became the serpent clan leader. Then he brought back his brother's widow, the woman he grew up with. His first love.

He said he needed to take care of his brother's widow. He told me we'd all live together in the castle, nice and peaceful.

I said no.

I'm his mate. I'm a beastman. My pride won't let me accept that. And they grew up together, childhood sweethearts. How could I not think about it?

She came to him in tears, heavily pregnant. She said I poisoned her medicine, that I wanted to kill her and the baby.

He believed her.

He decided I was just some rogue beastman with no background, jealous and vicious, only after his title and money. So he locked me in this freezing castle while he camped outside her delivery room.

When labor hit, I screamed for a healer. I swore I never hurt her. I just couldn't live with her under the same roof. I only ever loved him.

He just laughed. "You're good at acting. I don't believe a word out of you. Once she delivers safely, I'll deal with you. Don't think you can trick me into coming back."

But when a trembling guard reported "Your mate and the child... they didn't make it," he lost it completely.

I'm dead.

Died that rainy night, desperate because I couldn't scrape together five thousand dollars to save my dog.

Liam laughed at me over the phone—my childhood friend told me to quit the sob story. His new girlfriend Sarah said I should get on my knees and beg if I wanted her to toss me some scraps. They had no idea every dollar I owed those loan sharks was to cover up Liam's hit-and-run.

My dog died. So I jumped into Black Lake.

It wasn't until they pulled my body from the water that Liam found the surveillance footage in that tin box and realized what a massive mistake he'd made. Then he snapped, dragging Sarah and everyone else who killed me down into the depths, one by one.

Too bad it was already too late.

Three months after my miscarriage, at the celebration dinner he hosts for my "recovery," he tells his partners in French, "She's just a trophy wife. Doesn't understand basic business."

"What about that new assistant? The twenty-two-year-old?"

"So much smarter," he laughs. "And in bed? Way more exciting."

They think I don't understand. To everyone here, I'm just the stay-at-home wife who gave up her VP position at an investment bank to play house.

They don't know I minored in French. I spent a full year studying abroad at the Sorbonne.

As I lay in the operating room, bleeding out from the miscarriage, he was already seeing her.

Je comprends tout. I understand everything.

Over the champagne and candlelight, I smile at him.

He has no idea this is the last time he'll ever see it.

On our wedding night, my husband wanted to play a game.
Trade secrets. The kind that could destroy you if they ever got out.
He went first.
"I hurt a girl once. At a ski lodge. She shouldn't have been in that room. But she was."
He said it like a parking ticket. Then he took a sip of whiskey and moved on.
My turn.
"I killed someone," I said. "Do you believe me?"
He laughed. He thought I was joking.
He really shouldn't have kissed me after that.

Her father and stepmother died, leaving her in the brutal hands of her stepbrother. Her stepbrother is heartless.
He treats her as a maid, is it a torture?
She, however, discovers that she has been sold. Sold to a Ruthless Mafia, just to serve as a settlement for her stepbrother's debt. Now she fears her life. Would her life take a turn for the worse or for the best?

For three years, I was his hidden wife. His secretary by day, his wife by night. No ring, no ceremony, no recognition. I gave up my medical career to save his dying company.
Then she came back. His first love. He announced her as his fiancée at his victory party. Right in front of me.
He asked for a divorce. I signed.
But he never knew the truth. That I was once the top student of a medical legend. That the secret drawing he found—the one he thought was another man—was actually him. That the woman he discarded is about to become the one he can never reach again.
Now? It's my turn to rise.

He drained my blood to save his mistress; now, I'm back to drain his empire dry.
"How can you do this to me, Zane?!" I ask in a heartbroken and devastated tone as tears roll down my cheeks in torrents.
"I stood by your side when everyone else left you! Hell, I donated my skin to you!" I say in a frantic tone as I try desperately to understand the reasons behind his actions.
"Stop being pathetic, Zara. You have lost the one thing that made you useful: your beauty, and in turn, your modelling career. The only woman who can secure my inheritance is Elora. You were only good while you lasted." Zane says with a sneer on his lips.
"It's over between us," Zane says with a tone of finality.


Zara Smith, blinded by love, abandons her heiress legacy and hides her identity to marry an illegitimate billionaire heir, Zane Wesley.
After getting into an accident staged by his step-siblings, he urgently needs saving. Despite being informed of all she had to lose, she donates parts of her skin to heal him.
When Zane no longer sees a need for her, he divorces her and marries another heiress to secure his inheritance. Three years later, she returns and is determined to bring Zane down.
To do this, she reclaims her legacy and... forms an alliance with her all-along silent investor and billionaire heir, Leo Armstrong. Watch them ruin the cheating couple—piece by piece!

They thought they were enemies. Fate made them mates.

Joy Stone isn’t just the brainy, sarcastic queen of pranks—she’s a deadly Alpha hybrid in disguise. At her human university, no one suspects the quiet nerd is also the fiercest warrior of the Diamond Heart Pack.

Until he walks in.

Lex: infuriatingly gorgeous, maddeningly brilliant, and cocky enough to challenge her at every turn. He’s also the future Alpha of the Water Moon Pack, a notorious playboy whose charm breaks hearts almost as fast as his fists break bones—and now, her new rival for the top spot on campus.

Their war starts with stolen notes, savage comebacks, and steamy glares that last too long. But one reckless kiss, one dark secret, and one blood-soaked rescue later… everything changes.

They’re not just rivals.
They’re mates.

Now Joy has to choose: resist the pull—or give in to a bond that could expose everything she’s worked to hide.

Enemies in the classroom. Lovers by fate. And in the end, only one will top the pack.

"I'm on a business trip. I'll be home in two days."
That's what my husband told me before he stopped answering my calls.
That same night, our son was rushed to the hospital.
While I sat beside his bed, terrified and alone, I discovered a truth my husband had spent years hiding.
One lie led to another.
The deeper I dug, the less I recognized the man I'd loved for ten years.
He thought I would keep believing him.
He thought I would never leave.
Most of all, he thought everything he took from me would stay his.
He was wrong.
Because while he was busy protecting his secrets, I was gathering the truth.
And when the day finally came, I didn't just walk away from my marriage—
I made sure he paid for every lie.
This time, I'm not fighting to keep what we built together.
I'm taking back everything that was mine.

I was the most pathetic existence on campus.

Thick glasses, baggy sweaters, walking through the cafeteria like crossing a minefield. Albert, my childhood crush of three years, publicly mocked me as "a pathetic little dog following him around." Campus queen Madison crushed me under her heel. That rainy night, I gave up completely and swore to make them all pay.

Three months later, I returned.

Bronze skin, perfect curves, stunning hair—the entire campus was buzzing about this "mystery goddess." No one recognized that I was once the pathetic Molly Baker.

When Albert discovered the truth, it was too late. The man standing beside me shocked the entire school.

My mad mother, in her final moments, pressed a set of Russian nesting dolls into my arms.
"These cost me thirty years of my life. In return, they'll give you three ways out of death."
The first doll told me to go to a bar and bring home the third strange man I met.
The second doll, she said to open on the eve of my wedding. There was no note inside. Only a photograph — my groom, killing a woman wearing the exact same wedding dress as mine.
Three years later, on the eve of another wedding, I opened the last doll. I read the note, smiled, and dropped it in the trash.
It was only later that I understood —
This mad woman saw more clearly than anyone sane in this world.
Mom, I'm sorry.

For a century, Carlos and I were the most envied lovers of the Dawn Court—yet our story ended in a cage of mutual, agonizing torment.

He loathed me for shattering a forbidden spell to forcefully awaken his memories, a desperate act that drove his precious half-elf, Lilia, to plunge to her death from the Astral Tower.

And I resented him for completely erasing our sacred vows. The very man who had once taken a lethal dragon's breath to save my life had awakened only to draw his blade against my throat—and offer his heart to my closest friend.

For the dark centuries that followed, he chained me in a sunless dungeon, using every conceivable cruelty to break my spirit.

Right up until my mana withered and I drew my last, agonizing breath, the venom he had spat through gritted teeth still echoed in the darkness: "Cecilia, you disgust me. I would rather have never remembered you at all."

In the cold embrace of death, clarity finally pierced my obsession. I understood then that I never should have used the ashes of our past to chain a man whose heart had already moved on.

I opened my eyes and found myself thrust back to the exact day Carlos returned hand-in-hand with Lilia, his memories entirely wiped clean...

My boyfriend faked being broke to test me. Three years of it.
When I turned down his last test, I watched him settle his new girlfriend's family debt in one afternoon. Cash he swore he never had.
Told me he'd been rich the whole time. Said he needed to know if I loved him or his money.
Said I failed.
I didn't argue. I just walked out.
Funny thing is, I wasn't broke either. I was the last pureblood heir to the strongest pack on the continent, and I'd been hiding that the whole time too.
Four years later, we ran into each other again. And this time I wasn't hiding anything.

Everyone on campus has a theory about Lila Monroe. The whispers started freshman year and they never stopped. They call her cheap. Desperate. Available for the right price.

They are not entirely wrong.

What no one knows is why.

Lila Monroe does not arrive at Westfield Elite on a scholarship or a trust fund. She arrives on survival instinct and a secret she cannot afford to let anyone discover: she earns her tuition by selling her time to wealthy students who want company, a date to an event, or someone to pretend they matter to. It is not what anyone would choose. But it is keeping her enrolled. And staying is the only plan she has left.

Ryder Kane has never needed a plan. Everything at Westfield bends around him. The son of the man who controls the school board, he is untouchable by design. Until one night he overhears something he was never supposed to hear.

Now he has a proposal. She has a price. And neither of them has any idea what they are actually getting themselves into.

Three years ago, I was the sole surviving legendary mage of Ash Valley. To fulfill my comrade's dying wish, I married into the Robert family, becoming a despised and bullied son-in-law . For three years, I endured torment and humiliation; my entire family treated me like trash . My wife handed me divorce papers , then accepted the marriage proposal of a nobleman. On my wedding day, I walked into the hall in old clothes, and everyone laughed, thinking I was crazy. Until I shattered all magic with a wave of my hand, my legendary presence overwhelming everyone present, the woman who had once despised me finally cried and asked me: Why did you lie to me?

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, if she got to marry the man she loved for a decade, not abandoned by him.
"We can't have this wedding today. I'll get you a bigger one."And just like that, he rushed off, leaving her heart in shambles.
Some guests whispered and murmured loud enough for her to hear as they walked past her."She is not Luna material, everyone knows that."
"Not Luna material,"Flora scoffs, remembering that particular comment as she picks up her bouquet, ripping it apart flower by flower, "I bet Alice is,"she stares coldly at the picture of Adrian on the screen, in pain of only humiliation and sorrow
A bigger wedding? His promise only makes her realise how ridiculous and pathetic she has been.
She scoffs and shakes her head, no, she doesn't want a bigger wedding, she wants no wedding now.
When Alpha Adrian asked Flora to give up her dream to be by his side, she willingly accepted it and did So.
When he forgot her birthday for three years in a row and said he was sorry, she forgave him every time.
When he hurt her feelings time and time again, showing her he was more interested in her body than her soul, she stomached it and rationalized in her head that someday his love would mean more.
But when he strode into the venue of their wedding and told her he was calling it off instead of saying 'I do' to her because of his ex-girlfriend.
Flora realised the truth she had been denying herself all these years.
She is and will never be anything to Alpha Adrian so when Adrian comes asking for forgiveness this time around, will she forgive him?

Twenty-five-year-old Zara Wells has spent three years building her lifestyle brand from a Brooklyn apartment golden-hour aesthetics, thrift hauls, and city walks that make her 4.2 million followers feel seen. She is relatable. She is safe. She is careful.
Until one viral video changes everything.
In a clip meant to showcase a new café's morning light, Zara unknowingly captures something in the background: a high-ranking Calabrese lieutenant exchanging what authorities would call "undeniable evidence" of a multi-million dollar drug arrangement. The video hits twelve million views before Zara even notices what's hiding behind her latte art shot.
By morning, she's the most wanted woman in New York and not by the police.
Dante Calabrese, the family's brutal and brilliant enforcer, is sent to retrieve the footage and eliminate the problem. What he finds instead is a sharp-tongued, terrified woman who has already uploaded the video to five different cloud servers and made it very clear: if anything happens to her, the footage goes public automatically.
"Kill me and you kill your family," she tells him, hands shaking. "So I guess we're stuck with each other."
Dante doesn't protect people. He removes them. But with the FBI circling, rival families ready to exploit the chaos, and Zara holding the one thing that could destroy everything the Calabreses built he has no choice but to keep her alive.
The problem is, the longer he's near her, the less certain he is about what he's protecting her from.

I'm the mafia heir's practice girlfriend.
He uses me to learn how to control his temper, how to kiss, how to make love.
All so he won't freak out his true love after they get married.
His guys worry: "Boss, you're not actually catching feelings for the maid's daughter, are you?"
Michael laughs coldly: "Would you fall for a sex toy?"
Everyone thinks I'm pathetic, but I keep smiling while I hand him knives and light his cigarettes.
Until news breaks that he's engaged.
His mom slaps down a hundred-million-dollar check: "Get away from Michael. Disappear forever."
I take the money like a good girl and vanish.
But that night, I hear Michael tried to kill himself and got rushed to the ER.

The Koch family is the oldest family in the Blue Star Kingdom. As the new generation heir, Chad Koch has encountered many women—some attracted to his wealth, others to his looks, but none genuinely cared for him as a person. Consequently, Chad Koch has perpetually upheld a demeanor of aloofness towards the fairer sex.
Amidst a twist of fate, Daphne emerges as the savior of Chad Koch's venerable grandfather.
Thus unfolds the tale of emotional intricacies between a haughty scion of royalty and a humble maiden of the farmlands.

Every night, he slips through my window. He never tells me his name.
He also never lets me touch him.
He owns me in the dark, then disappears before dawn.
For two years, he’s ruled my nights, taking me in every possible way.
Controlled me in ways I can't tell you.
Made me crave things I don’t understand. But when morning comes,
he returns to me as someone else. Natte Johnson.
The global hotel tycoon and rock star.
The man I grew up loving, my first love and losing.
Now I’m assigned to interview him.
The moment our eyes meet, something inside me pulls.
My body reacts to his voice alone and his gaze.

And I can’t stop wondering,
what if the man who commands me in the dark, makes me lose my sanity,
is the same man pretending not to know me in the light?
And if he is,
how long before he stops pretending
and claims me completely?

Emily Hart just landed the dream job: personal secretary to the sinfully rich, dangerously fine CEO of Steele Empire.
Naturally, she celebrated the only way she knew how—club lights, thumping beats, a killer dress, and shots flowing until reality blurred and pleasure took the wheel.
Then he happened. Dominic Steele. Billionaire boss. Ruthless in the boardroom. Untamed in the bedroom.
He saw her—hips swaying, lips smirking, black dress clinging like a second skin—and didn't ask for a name. He just took. One night. One filthy, breathless, back-arching night. No promises. No names. Just raw heat and moans that echoed past midnight.
Monday morning changed everything. The man who had made her beg without words now stood behind a glass desk in a tailored suit. She was his new secretary, unable to meet his gaze without remembering how he'd made her scream.
She thought he was cocky as hell. He thought she was the sweetest kind of chaos.
Then came the unexpected. A missed period. Suddenly, it was no longer just business. It was Daddy, please...

He buried her once, but the blood King resurrected the woman he could never forget.

When Lyra Kael rises from death—half-wolf, half-vampire—she burns for revenge against her best friend who drowned her and the Alpha who betrayed her.

Ryder Kael was her cheating husband, her lover, and now her obsession. The Ironfang MC had been Lyra’s home until her best friend drowned her on the night her husband left her for another wolf.

Now back as a hybrid, every glance drags her back to the night he betrayed her, every touch awakens the beast she swore to bury. Torn between vengeance and desire, Lyra hunts him down for her new master, the Blood King, in exchange for her freedom. But has her desire truly died? And will Ryker let go of her once again?

On our wedding night, James moaned my sister's name while inside me.

I shoved him off in fury. He looked down me with contempt.

"You're just a replacement for Raina. Don't expect too much."

Later, a fake surveillance video pinned Raina's death on me.

I couldn't prove my innocence. James had me thrown into prison.

For three whole years, I endured abuse behind bars.

The day James picked me up, he tore off my clothes and forced himself inside me.

Afterward, he tossed a document at me. "Sign it."

Turns out David—his and Raina's son—had leukemia.

He wanted me to bear a child—only to sacrifice it to save the one he had with Raina?

I couldn't accept it.

A cold smirk crossed his handsome face. "Refuse? Then your mother's medical funding ends now."

"Your only value lies in your womb. Learn to obey."

From then on, he came to my room nightly. There was no tenderness, only brutal taking.

Then fate played its cruelest joke.

I discovered a paternity test—it proved I was David's biological mother.

Which meant... David was my son? Mine and James's?

“You’re just a housewife with no job—you’d never dare divorce Dad!”
Her own son—— Sean Stuart said it.
And for seven years, Seraphine Lavien believed staying silent was love.

Once a rising star in fashion, she gave up her career to marry into wealth—to care for a demanding husband and their fragile son.
But her sacrifice earned only contempt:
Her designs stolen… and he said nothing.
Her pain ignored… while he praised another woman’s work.
Her name mocked as “the wife who doesn’t belong”… and still, he stayed silent.

Charles Stuart's silence broke her.

So she walked away—and rebuilt herself from ash to icon.

Now, as an award-winning designer commanding runways from Paris to New York,

she’s untouchable.

Until the man who let her burn alone shows up at her show, desperate:

“Please come back…”

As if being sold as a slave wasn't enough, she has to bear the ruthless alpha king a heir which she does,but in his absence, because she had to run to save her life and that of her babies.

Years later, she returned but not as the pathetic little girl that she was. she is now a woman sort after by many alphas and he would have to fight them all to win her back.

Evelyn Vale plans weddings, memorials, and private family ceremonies for people who care too much about how grief looks on camera. She knows lighting, timing, guest flow, and the hidden machinery behind a perfect public moment.

Then one night, while sitting beside the husband who kisses her goodnight, she sees a livestream event scheduled for tomorrow: her own memorial service.

The cover uses her mourning portrait. Grant, her husband, is posed as the devastated widower. Serena, her half sister, stands beside him like a woman already rehearsing the role of replacement wife.

At first Evelyn wants it to be a mistake. Then the invoices appear. The funeral campaign is paid for. The backend record existed. Someone with internal clearance created it, deleted it, and expected Evelyn to die before the broadcast.

Julian Cross, a former livestream safety investigator disgraced by an old death case, is the first person who treats Evelyn's fear as evidence. Together they follow the countdown through funeral contracts, planted comments, medical manipulation, board pressure, platform corruption, and a hidden operator using public grief as a business model.

But Evelyn is not waiting to be rescued. She knows how to build an event. She knows where witnesses should stand, when a microphone should stay open, and how a lie collapses when the room sees the right proof at the right time.

Grant scheduled the funeral.

Evelyn hosts it better.

Everyone at Crestwood High knows Jaxon Reed’s reputation.
Bad boy. Trouble. Walking red flag.

So when he asks Ellie Marrow out—quiet, rule-following, and painfully invisible—it’s obvious to everyone that it has to be a joke.

Except Ellie knows the truth.

Jaxon made a bet. A stupid, reckless one. And she’s the prize.

Instead of saying no, Ellie makes a choice no one expects: she agrees to fake date him—for her own reasons. With rules. Boundaries. And an expiration date. What starts as pretending quickly turns complicated as Ellie sees the side of Jaxon no one else does.

As rumors spread and lines blur, Ellie must decide who she wants to be when she stops playing it safe. And Jaxon has to face the truth about himself—and the damage a single lie can cause.

Because when pretending feels this real, someone is bound to get hurt.

As the Chief Delta of Alpha Hunter and his secretly married wife, Kara had always hoped that her dedication would eventually win his heart.
However, everything changed when that rogue girl—Maya—appeared. She is Hunter's Fated mate.
According to their pre-marriage agreement, once Hunter finds his true mate, their marriage will be over.
Just then, Kara discovers that she's pregnant...

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

“Be careful with that, Emma," my boss at the high-end courier service warned, handing me the velvet-lined case. "That bottle is worth more than your life. It’s for the penthouse gala at the Sterling Heights. If it breaks, don't bother coming back.”

I clutched the case to my chest like it was a newborn child.

The soles of my shoes were so thin I could feel every jagged pebble on the pavement. My feet ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the sixteen-hour shifts I’d been pulling for the last three months.

But every time I felt like collapsing, I thought of Liam. He met with an accident five years ago and could not work.

So, I became the bread-earner in our family.

Today was our wedding anniversary. And this last expensive delivery could earn me a decent gift for him.

"The host is on the terrace," a waiter whispered as I reached the penthouse, eyeing my worn-out sneakers with disdain. "Hurry up. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

I walked toward the terrace, my heart hammering. I just wanted to drop this off, get my signature, and run to Liam. I pushed through the crowd, dodging silk gowns and tailored tuxedos.

Then, I stopped.

The man standing at the edge of the terrace looked familiar.

He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that cost more than our three years of rent. His hair was slicked back, his posture commanding and regal. He was way too rich to cross paths with me in my entire life.

But, my heart skipped a beat as he turned back to look at his friends.

It was Liam. My Liam. With other woman, offering the world to her.

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

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

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

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

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

After my miscarriage, my psychiatrist husband offered to erase the painful memories to help me forget them.

During the three months I was dumped in a rehab facility, he took our daughter and his cousin on a European vacation.

Now that they're back, he assumes I’ll go right back to being that meticulous, perfect wife.

But I didn't.

He deliberately provokes me, thinking my coldness is just me playing hard to get.

He has no idea that the brainwashing procedure didn't just wash away my pain—it completely severed my love for him.

I was four months pregnant when the truck hit my car.
I woke up on a gurney outside the OR, bleeding, half-conscious, thinking my husband was saving my life. Then I heard him through the door.
"The baby's gone. Her right hand is finished—her career's over either way. Just take her kidney now and put it in Mia."
My mother agreed. My father told him to switch my architectural draft to Mia's name before Friday.
Mia. The sister they'd raised for twenty years while I was missing. The sister whose body was failing. The sister my husband had apparently been in love with the whole time I was married to him.
I was supposed to die on that table. I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
But my phone was in my coat pocket, and the voice memo app had never stopped recording.
And now I had a choice to make.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband, Caleb, was sleeping with his student.
That night, I spiked his Pinot Noir with poison. I watched him collapse, convulse, and take his agonizing last breath. Then, I dragged his body into the basement and sealed it inside an oak wine barrel.
For five years, I raised our daughter, Nora, on my own. I thought the secret would rot in the dark forever.
Until she told me: Daddy speaks to her from under the floorboards every night. His voice sounds muffled, like he’s talking through a thick blanket...

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!"

Maya froze when the man who drew every eye in the room walked in. Her ex-boyfriend, who‘d vanished five years ago, was now one of Boston’s richest tycoons. Back then, he’d never hinted at his identity—then he’d disappeared without a trace. Seeing his cold gaze now, she could only assume he’d hidden the truth to test her, decided she was vain, and left in disappointment.

Outside the ballroom, she went to him as he smoked by the door, wanting to at least explain herself.

“Are you still angry with me?”

He flicked the cigarette away and looked at her with open contempt. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Let me guess—Maya finally finds out who I am and now she wants to ‘reconnect.’ Another chance now that she knows my last name comes with money.”

When she tried to deny it, he cut in. “You were a blip. A footnote. If you hadn’t shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have remembered you.”

Tears stung her eyes. She almost told him about his daughter, but stopped. He’d only think she was using the child to trap him and get his money.

Maya swallowed everything back and left, certain they would never cross paths again—only for him to keep appearing in her life, until he was the one lowering himself, humbly begging her to take him back.

Aurelia has spent three years in a loveless marriage, holding on to a man who was already slipping away. She thinks it can't get worse until his first love returns.
He divorces her without hesitation. He doesn't know she's pregnant. Alone, heartbroken, and with nowhere to go, Aurelia is hit by a car.
She wakes up to three powerful billionaire brothers claiming her as their long-lost sister, and they take her away from the life that broke her.
Five years later, Aurelia is no longer the woman he abandoned. She runs AURELIA, a global luxury fashion empire. Untouchable, cold, and emotionally closed off.
So when her ex-husband walks back into her life, begging for another chance, she doesn't hesitate. "Unless it's business, you don't exist to me."
And when he discovers he has a son, he tries to claim him. The child looks at him without recognition and says, "My father is dead. I only have my mummy and my uncles."
For the first time, Dominic is forced to face the full weight of what he lost. Now, the man who once threw her away is the one begging to stay. But Aurelia doesn't believe in second chances. And this time, walking away might not be his choice.

"I'm looking for a wife," he said. "And I believe you may be suitable."
"You're not in love with me."
"No."
"You don't intend to be."
"No."
"Then why would I agree to this?"
"Because I'm not offering romance. I'm offering security."
She married him knowing one thing clearly: love was never part of the agreement.
Their marriage was built on terms, not promises.
A shared home. A shared bed. A public image to maintain.
Nothing more.
He was distant, controlled, and never cruel, but never warm either.
To him, she was a wife in name, a solution to a problem, a role that needed to be filled.
What neither of them expected was how silence could become dangerous.
How intimacy without love could still leave marks.
How wanting someone could come long before admitting it.
As the line between obligation and desire begins to blur, she must decide how long she can stay where she isn't truly chosen and he must face the truth he never planned for.
Because sometimes, the most dangerous thing isn't loving someone too much…
It's realizing you never meant to love them at all.

Will a man learn to love me if I’m good to him long enough?

I tried for seven years to warm his heart.
I thought if I just held on a little longer, he’d finally see me.
Because I loved him so deeply.

But what did I get in return?
His endless tenderness for another woman.
I pretended I didn’t care, until pneumonia landed me in the hospital.

On the day I was discharged, I found him standing there with our daughter, his whole world focused on caring for that woman.
Even my daughter, whom I’d raised with everything I had, wished that woman was her mother.

In that moment, my heart died completely.

I left the divorce papers, gave up custody, and walked back into the chemical industry.
So what if seven years of marriage had worn me down?
I was still the top genius in my field.

But the divorce I’d wanted so badly never went through.
The man who once couldn’t have been colder to me now held on to me tighter than ever.
Our daughter refused to leave my side.

When he found my divorce papers,
the always cold and arrogant man pushed me against the wall and growled:

“Divorce? You’re mine. For life.”

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

“Smile, Natalie,” Callum whispered before he walked onstage.

So I smiled while he thanked another woman for the crisis plan I had written. I smiled when he pinned my grandmother’s sapphire brooch to her dress. I even smiled when his message came in, canceling our nineteenth appointment at the county clerk’s office.

Then I walked out with our unsigned marriage license papers in my purse and called the one CEO he hated most.

By the time Callum realized I wasn’t waiting anymore, I had already taken my name, my work, and my future back.

I lent my Bugatti to my secret boyfriend for clout. He repaid my trust by gifting my car to a scheming cheerleader, letting her publicly humiliate and frame me. The whole school mocked me as a poor garage keeper’s daughter, unaware I’m the hidden billionaire heiress behind the supercar. Now I’ll destroy his fake rich life and avenge every insult.

Eighty-eight times.
That was how many times I had put on a white dress, or packed my ID, heading to the registry office to marry Harrison Churchill. And eighty-eight times, I ended up in an ambulance.
The first time, it was a street drive-by. A bullet tore through my shoulder just two blocks from City Hall.
The fifteenth time, a car bomb shattered three of my ribs.
The forty-second time, a steel frame plummeted from a construction site, cracking my skull.
......And this time?
The eighty-eighth time. A massive cargo container "accidentally" slipped from a crane at the docks, crushing my car.
Maybe, it’s time to say goodbye.

"Where is my son?"
My husband wouldn't look at me.
I had just come out of anesthesia. The bassinet next to my hospital bed was empty — except for a stack of cash, a christening card, and a ring pinned to the corner of the card.
The card had another woman's name in the godmother box.
That woman walked in behind my husband. She picked up the ring and slid it onto her own finger.
"He's safe, sweetheart. We've been talking about this for months."
My husband is Damiano Marchetti. He runs the family that runs this city. The woman wearing the ring is his father's young widow.
The baby on that card is my son.
For four years now I have been the woman this house pretends not to see. The wife told to use the servants' entrance. The mother of a boy who calls another woman Mommy.
Last night I asked my husband for a divorce.
He laughed in my face.
He has no idea how much that's going to cost him.