493 Book(s) Related to agatha christie novel named after deaths mount

"Just this once." Ethan's huge cock thrust hard into me.
He lifted one of my legs and hung it over his shoulder, thrusting so hard I moaned uncontrollably. "God, you're so tight..."
I tried to escape, but he grabbed my ankles and pulled me towards him.
I begged, "Let go of me...I'm dying..."

A year ago, Lucy was imprisoned after being framed for intentionally injuring Ivy, her husband Ethan's first love. After being granted family leave, she rushes to visit her ailing grandmother, but Ethan fucks her against her will. He mercilessly make her give a blood transfusion to Ivy, causing her to miss her grandmother’s dying words. Jailed, the only family dead, and her dreams shattered, Lucy is desperate for a divorce from this man who doesn't love her, but Ethan coldly proclaims, "There's only widowhood in the Storm family, not divorce."

"Look how wet you are," he roughly flipped me over, his fingers cruelly invading my pussy. "Your cunt is desperate for it, isn't it? You were born to be fucked by me, dear sister."

His thick cock thrust into me mercilessly. My walls stretched forcefully, pain and pleasure intertwining.

"Fuck... it's too big!" I screamed, gripping the sheets as I felt each savage thrust. "Alexander... please..."

"Call me brother," his teeth bit down hard on my neck. "Say you're my Omega."

When Omega wolf Erin loses her job for refusing her boss's harassment, a chance encounter in an alley leads to a night of passion with powerful Alpha Alexander. In a cruel twist of fate, she discovers her one-night stand is not only the heir to the Black Stone pack but also her stepbrother.

Caught in a whirlwind of pack politics, Erin is torn between Alexander's almost manic possessiveness and the cold machinations of his betrothed and her family. As the mystery of her origins unfolds, a shocking secret of blood vengeance rises to the surface.

In this forbidden affair where lust and hatred intertwine, where will their path lead?

To save my stepsister's life, I accepted a contract marriage with a stranger—$100,000 for one year.

Sebastian Sterling, the mysterious billionaire from Manhattan's Upper East Side, a devastatingly handsome bachelor. He needed a wife in name only, I needed money—a perfect arrangement.

But as I lost myself in his tender gaze and caring touch, his ex-girlfriend's return shattered everything. Behind this mail-order bride arrangement lay a shocking secret—

My true identity was the only key to his billion-dollar inheritance.

Lyra was hopelessly in love with her stepfather Magnus—the handsome, powerful Alpha—but could only watch helplessly as he bedded other women.

When she tried to distance herself with a shattered heart, fate dealt her a devastating blow. An accident left Magnus out of control, and he brutally claimed her.

Though she was the victim of rape, she was branded as the whore who "seduced her stepfather"!

Silver whips tore through her flesh, leaving her bloodied and broken. When Lyra knelt in her own blood, begging for mercy, the man who once vowed to protect her for life coldly commanded—

"Continue the punishment."

Four years later, just when she thought she had finally escaped her past, Magnus reappeared. Seeing her pregnant with another man's child, his eyes burned with insane possessiveness:

"You can never leave me."

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.

When debt-ridden Wendy Chen hits rock bottom, an unexpected "job" becomes her lifeline—a contract marriage with veteran Jason Morrison, paying $100,000 a year for one year, with a single assignment: being a "mom" to his fourteen-year-old son Liam.

This should have been the perfect business arrangement. Jason needs someone to care for his stepmother-resistant son, while Wendy needs money to escape the crushing gambling debts her ex-husband left behind. No love, no expectations—just cold contractual terms.

But when Liam "welcomes" her with a bucket of ice water, when Jason struggles through PTSD episodes during thunderstorms, when her dangerous ex-husband resurfaces to threaten her new life... Wendy finds herself caught in a deadly trap: she's genuinely falling in love with this broken family.

Until fourteen-year-old Liam accidentally discovers the contract.

Everything falls apart.

My husband Eric couldn't speak after a car accident three years ago. Three years of silence. Not one word.

To pay for his rehab, I worked four jobs at once—worked until I was coughing up blood, until I collapsed. Winter nights, Leo and I huddled under one threadbare blanket. When my son spiked a fever and I had no money for medicine, I stayed up all night pressing wet rags to his burning forehead.

Eric? His only communication was cold texts, ordering me around. When Leo reached for a hug, he'd push him away like our son didn't exist.

I endured it all. Because deep down, I believed the accident was my fault.

Until that night.

I was hauling equipment at Selena's concert—Selena, the pop star everyone knew—when a mystery guest in a mask stepped on stage. They sang together, voices blending like they'd done this a thousand times.

That voice. That lightning-shaped scar on his elbow.

My "mute" husband of three years.

I followed him backstage. Through the door, I heard Selena's laugh: "Congrats, Eric. Your mute act is almost over—you won the bet."

Three years of sacrifice.

All of it just a game. A bet with his first love.

Running for my life, I tumble straight into a hidden underground palace of nightmares.

The Bride-Selection slaughter is underway—no girl has survived in ten years. Bodies torn apart, blood everywhere.

Then the monstrous black dragon lowers its massive head… and gently nuzzles my palm like a lovesick puppy.

The man on the throne stares down with violet eyes.

"You don't get to run anymore. You're my queen now."

That same night he rips away every scrap of silk, pins me to the freezing dragon-sized bed, and shoves his thick, burning cock so deep I scream until my voice breaks.

"Try escaping again," he growls against my ear, hips slamming into me without mercy, "and I'll chain you to this bed and fuck you until you can't even crawl."

This terrifyingly beautiful monster—what deadly secrets is he hiding?

And me, the runaway bride his dragon picked… will I ever break free from his cage?

Before I died, I married mob boss Dante in my sister's place.

Five years of marriage, and I was nothing but her replacement. He hated me for stealing her spot. My parents were ashamed I couldn't make him love me. Everyone just waited for her to come back.

Christmas Eve—fire tore through the mountain estate. Dante's first move? Sprint straight to my sister, fresh off the plane. My parents escaped right behind him. Nobody remembered the pregnant wife locked in the dressing room. Smoke and flames took me and my baby while they held each other outside, celebrating they'd made it out alive.

I opened my eyes on the day they cornered me with divorce papers.

My parents threw the documents at me. My sister stood there smirking, ready to slide into my place. This time? I didn't cry. Didn't beg. I picked up the pen and signed.

They wanted me gone? Done.

On what should have been the happiest night of my life, I discovered a brutal truth—my fiancé Asher, whom I'd loved for seven years, was having an affair with my sister Janet in a storage room. Even worse, they were plotting to take everything from me!

"That idiot still thinks I'm the helpless little wolf pup from the orphanage who needed her protection... She has no idea I now prefer cunning women like you."

Hearing those words from their own mouths, my heart shattered completely. In my rage, I decided to fight fire with fire, rescuing the mysterious werewolf Eric from a dangerous containment facility just before his execution. I thought I'd found my weapon for revenge, never knowing this "dangerous" wolf harbored an even greater secret.

I'd been married to Nikolai Konstantin for three years. In that time, I'd miscarried six times for him—nearly died on the operating table once.

Every time I woke up, this cold-blooded mafia boss would hold my hand and say, "I'm sorry you had to go through this. Should we try again?"

I thought he loved me.

Until my seventh pregnancy, when I saw that video—

My sister Scarlett curled up in his arms, crying: "Nik, she's had six miscarriages... what if something happens to her? It's all my fault. My heart condition won't let me carry a baby..."

Nikolai kissed the top of her head: "Don't worry, baby. Her body can handle a few more tries. I promised you a child, and I always keep my promises."

That was when I finally understood—

The child in my womb had NEVER been ours.

The night I was reborn, my adoptive brother—Viktor Konstantin, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—was poisoned during a negotiation.

In my past life, I loved him desperately. So when the aphrodisiac took hold and he gasped for me to call Liliya, I made a selfish choice. I stayed. I gave myself to him.

She arrived too late. When she saw us together, she ran. Her plane crashed over the Atlantic that same night.

Viktor married me without a word of blame. Until a turf war when our enemies captured me—seven months pregnant, chained up, beaten bloody. I called him, begging for help through my tears.

His answer shattered me: "You want to live? After killing Liliya? You and that bastard don't deserve to breathe. Go to hell, Eve."

I died in that cell. Our daughter died with me.

Now I'm staring into those same drugged eyes again.

This time, I'm making the call.

"We can only take one more person! Any heavier and we ALL go down!"

In the middle of a raging forest fire, my fiancé Carter Hayes was piloting a fuel-leaking helicopter, forced to choose between me and my cousin Lily Sterling.

He chose me.

Lily was left behind in the inferno. She burned.

I thought surviving made me lucky — until my parents slapped me across the face at my wedding. "Why wasn't it YOU who died?"

Turns out, I was never the one they wanted to save.

Carter married me, then spent five years making me wish I'd died in that fire instead. He and my parents worked together, systematically stripping away my dignity, my career, and every reason I had to keep living.

Three years into my depression, I jumped from the top floor of the Hayes estate.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself back before the fire — before the helicopter took off, before Carter made his choice.

This time, I spoke first. "Take Lily."

If they all wanted me dead, then I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

The night I almost drank myself to death at a client dinner, my husband Alexander bought his first love a luxury yacht.

Maya posted it on Instagram that same night: "Best birthday gift EVER! You know who you are 💕🛥️~"

In the photo, she was in a bikini, champagne in hand, glowing with joy.

Then came the credit card alert—our joint account had been maxed out.

Before I could even confront him, Alexander called.

"Are you serious right now? Why'd you lock the card? Maya's been struggling with her depression—she needs to go sailing to clear her head! Why can't you show some compassion?"

I wanted to tell him that last night, I'd nearly killed myself closing a deal for his company.

But he'd already hung up.

Later that evening, Maya posted again—an extravagant jewelry set. The caption: "When someone truly GETS you 💎✨"

In the photo, she wore a diamond ring I never got, not even on my wedding day.

But by then, I was done caring.

Because I'd made my decision—to disappear completely.

They said I killed them all.

My father. My daughter. My brother's legs. One explosion, one moment of selfishness, and I became the family murderer.

My husband Dominic—the most feared mafia boss in the city—drowned himself in whiskey. I drowned myself in something worse.

Three years on the pole. Three years with strangers' cash stuffed in my bra, their cocks shoved down my throat, their fists in back alleys, their cameras catching every degradation. Three years swallowing cum and shame to scrape together half a million for my brother's surgery.

Then the doctors found the tumor. Three months left.

One last show, I told myself. A blindfolded performance. Enough to pay off Ethan's debt before I died.

That's when someone ripped off my blindfold.

Dominic.

Behind him stood my very-alive father. And Ethan—on two perfect legs, kicking aside an empty wheelchair. And my adopted sister Vanessa, draped over my husband, flashing a diamond ring.

This whole performance? Her birthday present.

"Surprise, sweetheart." Dominic smiled. "The explosion was fake. We just needed to put you in your place."

Ethan laughed. "Three years of stripper money made one hell of a party, sis."

My father still wouldn't look at me. "Learn to treat Vanessa right, or you're no daughter of mine."

The room exploded in laughter.

I stood there, diagnosis crumpled in my fist.

The explosion was fake. The crippled legs were fake. Everything was fake.

But the cancer eating my brain?

That was real.

Twenty-one times.

I've signed the mate bond with Kael Nightshade, Lord of the Black Panther Clan, twenty-one times.

And dissolved it twenty-one times.

Not because we didn't love each other.

But because every few months, she comes back.

Seraphine. His first love. The angel who shattered her wings saving him, leaving her mind fractured and fragile.

"Seeing the mate mark sends her into psychotic breaks," he'd say, burning the bond from my skin. "I owe her my life."

So I'd erase the mark. Burn the contract. Pretend we were never bound.

The first time, I cried and begged. He backhanded me: "Cut the bullshit. We'll rebond once she's back in the sanatorium."

The thirteenth time, I followed them to a tavern and watched him tenderly kiss the scarred stumps where her wings used to be. When I confronted them, he knocked me down and locked me in enchanted restraints for seven days straight.

Sign. Burn. Erase. An endless cycle I couldn't escape.

Until the twenty-first time.

Fire engulfed the manor. Seraphine and I were trapped in different wings. Kael could only save one of us.

"Kael!" I collapsed at the window, smoke choking my lungs. "I'm pregnant—please—"

He shifted into his panther form and bolted toward her room.

The guards dragged me out thirty minutes later. Third-degree burns across my back, lungs filled with ash, blood pooling beneath me.

No heartbeat.

Kael stood in the safe zone, holding an unscathed Seraphine in his arms. From the moment the flames erupted until they pulled me from the rubble, he never looked back.

Not once.

The twenty-first dissolution was my choice.

There won't be a twenty-second.

Three years ago, my brother left me with his most trusted friend, Kaden.

That "trustworthy" Alpha had me pinned beneath him on my third night in the Shadow Pack.

Since then, I played his obedient little "sister" by day and spread my legs for him by night. Three years of sneaking around—I was done.

My ultimatum: make it official or we're done.

Hours ago, with me pressed into the mattress, he swore between thrusts, "Tomorrow. I'll tell everyone tomorrow."

Then his first love Chloe came back.

He dropped everything and ran to her. I followed. Watched him gently wipe her tears—the same hands that had gripped my throat just hours before.

"Kaden, you promised—"

"Shut up." He turned on me, voice lethal. "Don't say another word in front of Chloe. There's nothing between us. I'm doing Seth a favor, looking after his bratty sister. Clear?"
My hands trembled. Three years. All of it—a fucking joke.

I pulled out my phone and texted my brother: "The Silver Moon marriage. I accept."

At a three-day yacht party, my suppressants went missing.

Without them, my heat—that humiliating, consuming need my body couldn't control—hit me like a sledgehammer.

Worse—as I stumbled out of the bathroom, I collided with him.

Victor Sterling. My father's best friend. My boss. The one man I had no business fantasizing about every night when I touched myself.

This man, infamous for never touching women and his ice-cold control, never came to parties like this. Yet here he was.

And the worst part? Thanks to the storm, I'm trapped in a room with him tonight.

A year ago, Sophia was recalled from overseas medical school. Her father announced she must marry Ethan Sullivan, head of the Sullivan crime family, to save their bankruptcy.

Ethan Sullivan—uncrowned king of New York's underworld, cold-blooded killer. Complete opposite of her life-saving profession.

She fought desperately—humiliated him at their engagement, sabotaged business meetings, even escaped at midnight. Ethan never got angry, just quietly cleaned up, growing more gentle and devoted.

Until rival families shot at them. He shielded her with his body, blood soaking his white shirt, still comforting her: "It's okay. I'm here."

Sophia fell completely.

"I'll marry you," she told him in his hospital bed, "but tell me—do you really love me?"

Ethan nodded without hesitation: "I love you. You're the first and only one."

After marriage, Sophia enjoyed sweet life as a mafia wife. Until she learned Ethan's "sister" Isabella had leukemia. When her bone marrow matched, she donated without hesitation, thinking this proved their love.

Until tonight's party. A drunk lieutenant asked: "Boss, what's your biggest regret in life?"

Ethan was silent for a long moment: "Giving up the woman I loved."

When my mother-in-law and I went undercover on our own yacht, a woman in a bikini pointed at us and screamed, "Broke trash!"

She ordered the bodyguards to throw us into the sea.

"This is the VIP section! You freeloading scum snuck on board for free food and drinks—get lost!"

She pinched her nose, looking at my mother-in-law and me with complete disgust.

I said coldly, "This is a public area. We have the right to be here."

"Public area?" She burst into shrill laughter, dripping with arrogance. "Do you even know whose yacht this is? My boyfriend's! The most powerful man in this city!"

Victoria and I exchanged confused looks—this yacht, the Poseidon, was clearly being managed by my husband Alexander.

When did he become someone else's boyfriend?!

Five years ago, on my wedding day, my fiancé Vincent fucked my best friend in the bridal suite.

Five years later, I returned to New York with my husband—the most powerful Mafia boss in Naples. At Atelier Milano, my former best friend Bianca circled my custom gown like a vulture, pestering the staff about meeting the legendary Mrs. Salvatore.

She had no idea the woman she pitied as a pathetic nobody was the very person she was dying to impress.

A year ago, my ex abandoned me when I was broke and buried in debt, choosing the Russo family heiress instead.

On the day of his engagement party, he sent me a vicious text: "Wear a wedding dress to Plaza Hotel. Changed my mind. You're marrying me."

I showed up in white.

Luca and his crew waited at the entrance, ready to watch me humiliate myself.

He thought this was my degradation.

But what he didn't know was—I was getting married.

Just not to him.

To Dante Valentino—the most dangerous man in this godforsaken city.

At the Academy's Beast Hunt Competition, I killed a high-tier Shadow Wraith and carved out its core.

My sister Seraphine stole it and claimed first place.

That core eased the brutal dragon prince Draven's chronic migraines. He demanded to marry the mage who presented it.

My fiancé Kelvin soul-bound himself to Seraphine overnight to "save" her. Done deal.

Someone had to fulfill the dragon marriage contract. That someone was me.

Seraphine draped herself over Kelvin, smirking. "Sister, your fiancé's MINE now. Draven arrives in three days—better find some random dragon to marry, or he'll tear you apart."

I looked at her smug face and smiled slowly.

"What makes you think I won't marry him?"

Three years ago, I nearly died giving birth to my son.

My husband Elias wasn't by my side—he was outside, ready to rip my baby from my arms and hand him to his dead brother's widow.

"We owe her this."

As I screamed and bled, Elias made his decree: "Aria stays away from the boy. She comes near him, she gets the silver whip."

They gave my son to Vivienne. I wasn't even allowed to see his face.

For three years, I tried everything to reach him.

Scaled walls—got twenty-three scars across my back. Snuck in as a maid—starved for seven days. Crashed his third birthday—thrown in ice water until I couldn't feel my legs.

Every time, worse punishment. Elias started looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

Then yesterday, fire ripped through the house. Flames swallowed the nursery.

Everyone screamed, including Vivienne—but she didn't move.

Only I ran in.

I pulled Asher out, barely breathing.

When he woke up, he shoved me away and clung to Vivienne, sobbing: "Mommy! She's here again! Make her GO! You said she'd leave if I was good!"

Three years of lies had erased me completely.

I dropped to my knees, voice breaking: "Call me 'Mom' just once. Then I'll disappear forever."

The day I went into labor, my husband threw me into Dragon's Pyre.

Draven was the Dragon King. I was carrying his child. Should've been the happiest day of our lives. Instead, it became hell.

Why? His dead brother Kael's widow, Seraphina, was about to pop too. And Ashwing law was crystal clear: first male heir takes the throne.

Our due dates? One day apart.

So he picked her over me. Because apparently, I OWED them.

Dragon's Pyre—where they roast criminals alive with dragonflame. Hot enough to turn flesh to ash in seconds. But that wasn't enough for them. They shoved some potion down my throat that would keep my body from going into labor, even though my baby was clawing to get OUT.

I was curled up on that scorching stone slab, feeling my child die inside me.

All because I'd been stupid enough to fall in love with him.

To marry Damian Thorne, I almost died thirteen times.

Over three years, I planned twelve weddings. Each one left me bleeding.

The first time: a runaway truck crashed into the bridal boutique, crushing my right leg.

The second time: the church ceiling collapsed during rehearsal, leaving me broken and bloodied.

The third time: poisoned champagne at the reception nearly killed me as I foamed at the mouth.

...

Manhattan's elite whispered that I was cursed.

But I still loved him desperately.

Until the thirteenth time. That bloody rainy night, three thugs cornered me in an alley and stabbed me seven times—two to the chest, three to the abdomen, two to the back. I lay dying in my own blood, yet somehow survived.

After I healed, I accidentally overheard Damian talking to his assistant.

"Mr. Thorne, she almost really died this time... Maybe we should stop? If your grandfather finds out..."

"We can't stop," Damian said wearily. "Her father saved my life. Grandfather is hell-bent on me marrying her. But DAMN IT, I love Selena, not her."

"As long as she won't give up, these accidents have to continue until she gets the message and leaves on her own."

I trembled as I touched the bandages covering my wounds, tears falling silently.

All these years, the man I desperately loved had been meticulously planning my death.

But he didn't know that this time, he really wouldn't have to marry me anymore.

A horde of 100,000 mutated beasts besieged the city, and a ten-meter-tall abyssal wolf pressed its claws against my throat.
My enemy, riding on the wolf's back, laughed maniacally, threw down the chains, and ordered me to kneel and surrender immediately.
The fortress garrison closed their eyes in despair. But looking at that gaping maw so close to my face, I let out a long sigh of relief, even laughing aloud.
"What are you laughing at, facing certain death?!" she shrieked.
"I'm laughing at your pathetic stupidity." I gently crushed a poison capsule in my sleeve. "You really think I threw down all my weapons and walked out of the city gates to face this 100,000-strong army to surrender?"
"That's because if the distance exceeds three meters, my genetic virus can't be precisely injected into this beast's lungs."

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone.
But death? Just her intermission.
She woke up in a whole new world—a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down.
And her?
Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status.
But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power.
Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer:
Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world.
Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home… for revenge.
Sounds simple? Think again.
A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her—ended up letting her mark him.
A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart.
A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure.
A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark.
A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her.
They all need her mark. They all want her.
And sharing? Not in their vocabulary.
Too bad for them—
She's not here for love stories.
She's here to survive.
To climb.
To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones.
And one day…
To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

Three years of marriage. Harper gave up her career, cut off her friends, and made herself invisible for Evan.
Then on her birthday, the blow came. Claire showed up pregnant: "Mrs. Morgan's spot will be mine eventually. What's the point of you holding onto it?"
Harper finally woke up. She filed for divorce without looking back.
The day she signed the papers, she smiled calmly at the reporters waiting outside: "The reason for the divorce? Mr. Morgan was simply never able to satisfy me. In that department."
The untouchable CEO became a punchline overnight.
Evan assumed she was getting back at him. He had no idea Harper was no longer the caged bird he remembered.
Her design talent shook the industry. His own business rivals fell for her.
By the time he realized the partner he had been desperately chasing was his ex-wife, it was already too late.
"Harper, can we start over?"
"Mr. Morgan, if something's wrong with you, go see a doctor. Do you need me to pay for the appointment?"

The day the IVF succeeded was when I realized Michael had deceived me all along.
He had only used me as a surrogate for my sister.
When I confronted him, he tested me, forcing me to kill someone. "Afraid to pull the trigger? Doesn't seem like my kind of woman," he sneered.
I tried to run, but he caught me.
He kept me locked away, forced me to eat foods I was allergic to until I needed my stomach pumped, and chained me to the bed while he went off with her.
I cried until I had no tears left—and finally learned how to hold a gun.

My adopted sister, Cordelia, conspired with her biological mother to harvest my organs alive, yet she had the audacity to claim I paid thugs to rape her.
My biological parents didn't bother to ask for the truth. They cursed me, calling me a vicious bastard, and threatened to break my legs.
My fiancé, Caspian, coldly announced the cancellation of our engagement, declaring he would marry the very murderer who killed me.
I had been dead for exactly three days. No one cared. My body was rotting back in a moldy storage room.
Through it all, my soul was trapped in the manor, forced to witness this absurd farce.
But what they didn't expect was that when they finally learned of my death—
Everyone went completely insane.

They thought that by forcing me to my death, they could devour everything.

My father jumped off a building, and I became a destitute young master whom everyone could bully. To pay off debts, I married into the Hawthorne family and became their sharpest knife.

After my father-in-law died suddenly, my wife immediately brought her childhood sweetheart into the house and forced me to divorce him.

My resistance resulted in a murder plotted by 928 × 213.

When I opened my eyes again, Chloe, who had been watching over me for three days and three nights, was beside me.

She said, "I'll take you away."

Three years later, I returned as a mysterious investor. The first thing I did was to buy the family's bankrupt old factory for 1.5 billion.

My ex-wife and I bumped into each other on the street; it was like seeing a ghost.

I smiled and stuck a 30 million yuan check on her forehead: "This is to repay the divorce fee you gave me back then. Keep the change."

The real revenge has only just begun.

My daughter helped my husband cheat.

My ten-year-old begged me to take her to a summer camp in Italy. My husband looked at her like she hung the moon. Booked the tickets right there.

I thought I was the luckiest mom alive.

Then I checked the pet camera from overseas.

There he was, fucking my daughter's riding instructor on our couch.

But what really killed me? What he said, "Don't worry. Nina wants that horse bad enough, she'll keep her mom in Europe as long as we need."

Back home, my husband dropped a receipt. Two identical limited edition watches.

He froze. My sweet daughter didn't miss a beat, "Dad used the other one to bribe someone so I could get my horse!"

They lied in perfect sync. That's when something in me broke.

They thought I was still that stupid, trusting wife.

What they didn't know?

I'd already signed a contract. Going back to my art career in New York.

Nineteen times. That's how many times Lucas promised to marry me, only to leave me standing alone because of her.
Today was supposed to be our day. But as I stood in the biting cold outside the restaurant, watching him carefully help Selena into his Maybach, the marriage application still tucked in my purse, I finally understood—that "someday" would never come.
"Let's reschedule the registration, okay?" he'd said without even looking at me.
I walked straight to HR and submitted my resignation. Then I accepted the offer from the Morinetti family—his sworn enemies.
As I boarded my flight to the West Coast, my phone exploded with messages.
"We agreed to go to City Hall today. Where are you?"
I glanced at the screen one last time, then powered it off.
"We're done."

My life with alpha Caleb was a never - ending nightmare.

Manipulated by Amara, he became my tormentor.

I endured his infidelity, false accusations, and brutal abuse.

Amara framed me for her miscarriage, and Caleb, without hesitation, believed her lies.

He forced an abortion on me, broke my legs, and stood by as Amara caused the death of my mother.

Every hope I had for our relationship was shattered.

Finally, I found the strength to break free and sever the mate bond.

In Nathaniel, my childhood friend, I discovered true love and support.

Despite Caleb’s desperate attempts to win me back, I refused to return to the darkness...

I fell in love with my stepbrother.

He chose someone else.

So I did what any smart wolf would do—I disappeared into the most brutal academy in the North, where weakness means death and emotions are a luxury I couldn't afford.

Four years later, he's on his knees outside my door, begging me to come back.

"Sia, please. I made a mistake. I need you—"

But before I can answer, a hand fists in my hair from behind. The new Alpha pins me against the wall, his cock already hard against my ass.

"You're not going anywhere," Kaelan growls, his fingers sliding between my thighs. "This pussy belongs to me now."

Cain's still begging outside.

And I'm coming apart under Kaelan's hands, realizing too late—

I never escaped anything. I just traded one obsession for another.

When I called my husband with trembling hands, clutching my cancer diagnosis, all I heard was his sweet laughter with his young, hot influencer girlfriend. Ten years of marriage, and when I needed him most, he chose betrayal.

In divorce court, I was painted as the "crazy ex-wife" while the entire internet mocked me. Everyone took their side. No one knew I was fighting for my life.

Until the day he finally learned the truth.

Ten years ago, eight-year-old him nearly died under wolf claws trying to save me. Ten years later, when I gathered the courage to return to this town, that little hero had become a dangerous man.

"We're strangers, remember?" The eyes that used to be gentle only for me now looked at me with cold indifference.

But why does he hold me tight every time I'm in trouble? Why is his skin burning hot and his muscles hard like iron? Why do I tremble when his breath hits my neck?

When blood scented the rainy night and red-eyed beasts showed their fangs, I discovered the truth—my childhood sweetheart Logan was no longer human.

After rebirth, I switched wedding engagements with my sister Maya.

In my past life, she was forced to marry the West's most ruthless Alpha—Zane Blackwood. Three years. He never touched her. His "sister" Sienna stole the Luna's position, power, dignity. Maya became a joke. No mark, no status. She froze to death on a snowy night, not even left with a complete body.

And me? Married to someone I didn't love, drifting through life in a daze. When I woke up, Maya was dead.

Then I died trying to avenge her.

After rebirth, I kicked down the door and snatched the engagement: "This time, I'm going."

Rode my bike sixteen hours straight. Got ambushed on the road—cracked skulls with a wrench. Covered in engine oil and blood, I crashed into the Black Moon engagement party.

Sienna screamed: "Psycho!"

Damn right.

I grabbed that stone-faced Alpha, ignoring his death glare, and bit into his neck in front of everyone.

"Listen up," I licked the blood from my lips, "I'm your Luna now. And if that bitch messes with me—"

I leaned close to his ear:

"You're dead first."

Seven years ago, he gave me 52 love letters, promising to prove his love through each of the 52 weeks of a year.

Seven years later, I burned them one by one—each betrayal claiming another letter.

Layla thought she had married her fairy tale—the coffee-stained graduate student working late nights in the lab, the tender man who wrote her love letters every single day. She used her mother's inheritance to fund his education, stayed by his side through countless sleepless nights, even sacrificed her own Harvard opportunity for his dreams.

But everything changed when Mia appeared—young, beautiful, and brilliant.

The public humiliation, the ruthless betrayal, the cold calculation... With each heartbreak, she burned another letter he had written with his own hand. From 52 to 51, from hope to despair, from deep love to complete devastation.

When the last love letter turned to ash, the man finally realized—he had lost her completely.

I was supposed to be the avenger who would kill Vincenzo Romano, head of the Romano family, to settle the blood debt for my deceased lover Matteo. But I never expected to suffer a severe head injury at the crucial moment, losing my memory completely.

When I woke up, this "enemy" told me he was my fiancé and showered me with tender love and devotion during my amnesiac state.

But when my memory returned, the truth cut through my heart like a blade—I had actually fallen in love with the man who murdered my beloved! Even more terrifying, I was carrying his child in my womb...

I'm Riley. Orphan. Motorcycle mechanic. And the biggest fool in Texas.

For ten years, I thought oil tycoon Colt loved me. His adopted daughter by day, his woman by night. I actually believed his whispered promises in the dark.

Then I watched him announce his engagement to someone else.

"Your father saved my life. You're my responsibility," he said when I confronted him. Like I was some charity case. Like everything between us meant nothing.

I was never his girlfriend. I was his guilt.

But here's the thing—I never asked to be anyone's debt.

So I'm packing my tools, starting my bike, and getting the hell out of here.

Eight years ago, I was forced to marry Sicily's most dangerous man.

Louis De Santis, heir to the Santis crime family, decided he wanted me. Right in front of me, he brutally tortured and killed my fiancé Alessandro, then dumped the body in the ocean for the sharks. He used Alessandro's blood to write threats on the wall to my parents—I had no choice but to walk into that fortress he called home.

Louis was obsessed with me to the point of madness. He took bullets for me during family wars, got down on his knees and begged the family elders when they questioned his choice. Under that twisted kind of love, I gradually fell for him and gave him a son—Marco.

For five years, I thought I'd found happiness.

Until year eight, when the Corleone family sent their "peace offering"—Angelina Corleone. This innocent-looking woman effortlessly stole Louis's heart. He had the nerve to announce: "You two are going to get along."

I couldn't stand the betrayal, so I secretly reached out to other families to try getting rid of Angelina.

I got caught.

In his rage, Louis strung up 5-year-old Marco above the blast furnace at the steel mill.

"NO! Please! He's just a child!" I rushed toward Louis frantically, but his men held me back.

Molten steel roared inside the furnace at 2912°F. Scorching heat blasted upward as little Marco dangled just ten feet above the flames.

My heart nearly stopped.

"Mommy! Help me! It's so hot! So hot!" Marco screamed in terror.

"Put him down! Please!" I fell to my knees, begging desperately, "Kill me! Kill me instead! Don't hurt Marco!"

"Nod and let her stay, and I'll let him down." Louis coldly began counting down: "TEN!"

I watched Marco's little body writhing in agony from the heat.

"NINE!"

Sweat and tears blurred my vision.

"EIGHT!"

"I agree! I AGREE!" I broke down screaming, "She can stay! Please let Marco down!"

Louis smiled with satisfaction and stopped counting, about to signal his men.

Then—

"SNAP!"

The rope suddenly broke!

"NOOO—!"

Time seemed to freeze. I watched helplessly as Marco's tiny body plummeted.

"THUD!"

He fell into the furnace.

In an instant, he was gone.

I completely shattered, blood spurting from my mouth as I collapsed.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back to the day Louis first brought Angelina home.

This time, I'm going to make him pay!

I gave my Alpha fiancé to my stepsister.

My mother's face lit up. "You're giving Damon to Maya? Don't come crying later, Kira. That man is the most powerful Alpha alive."

I won't. Never again.

Last life, I married him. Suffocated for three years.

He wanted a perfect Luna. I showed up to the full moon gala in a mini skirt. The elite ladies circled in—*"Shameless. Like a bitch in heat."* Damon walked over, draped his jacket over my shoulders.

I thought he was protecting me.

"Must you embarrass me like this?" His voice cut like ice. "Every damn time."

That's when I knew: he loved the perfect Luna. Not me.

Then came the conservative gowns, endless etiquette training, and every time I fought back—*"Pack law, Kira. Obey."*

Until the flames took me, I swore: If I ever got another chance, I would never marry that man.

I woke the night before our engagement and pushed the contract away. "Let Maya be his perfect Luna. I just want my freedom."

But I didn't expect—

When Damon discovered the switch, the cold Alpha completely lost it.