467 Book(s) Related to he cant be this dumb

She woke up naked, bound, and on display in a birdcage.

Her husband sat in the front row while strangers bid on her unborn son's organs. He believed the video. The DNA test. The other woman's lies.

They took her baby. They took her mother. They tried to take her mind.

So she let them think she was broken. She smiled through the electric shocks. She bent without breaking. She counted down to the surgery that was supposed to kill her.

But she wasn't counting down to her death.

She was counting down to theirs.

They wanted her heart?

She'll give it to them—still beating, as she becomes their judge, jury, and executioner.

Dark Revenge Romance. CW: non-con, graphic violence, pregnancy loss, captivity. Read with caution.

“I’ll give you anything, Elsa—money, a car, a house, jewelry—just agree to the transplant. Ria really needs it.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. Was this really my husband, trying to bargain my body to save his fiancée?
“Sorry, I’m pregnant. I can’t donate a kidney,” I said, my voice shaky but determined. Anger boiled inside me, but I knew he was powerful. The pretend marriage was over, and his true colors were revealed. Afraid of what he might do to me, I didn’t yell or fight him. I just wanted to escape this nightmare, to break free from this cage I was trapped in.
But his reaction was even more chilling. He looked at me with no emotion.
“We’ll have an abortion.” His words hit me like a bomb. I couldn’t believe how coldly he spoke about ending his own child’s life.

My marriage to Matthew was a transaction, a substitute—everything except love. When his white moonlight came back, I was abandoned, diagnosed with gastric cancer, and carrying his child. His late regret could never bring back my life, nor could it keep our unborn baby.

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.

I died on the day my fiancé Song Jinnian got engaged to his white moonlight, Shen Zhiyi.

Shen Zhiyi wore the evening dress designed by Song Jinnian himself, smiling sweetly as she linked her arm through his, accepting blessings from every guest in the hall.

I was at the scene of a car crash on Highway 23, half a steel rebar piercing straight through my chest. Warm blood trickled down the cold metal, pooling into a stark, glaring red pool beneath me.

I called Song Jinnian seventeen times.

He hung up instantly on the first sixteen.

On the seventeenth ring, he finally answered.

The melodic music of the banquet hall hummed in the background. His voice was low, laced with unbridled impatience: “What’s your problem now? How many times do I have to say it—marrying Zhiyi is just a formality. Can’t you act your age and quit this nonsense?”

I tried to speak, but blood froth surged up my throat, stealing my ability to form a full sentence. All I heard was the busy tone as he hung up without a second thought, echoing in the empty car, one beep at a time, shattering my last shred of hope.

Song Jinnian would never know that the girl he dismissed as a spoiled, tantrum-throwing lady was pinned to the driver’s seat by that steel rebar.

Beneath my slightly bulging abdomen lay our two-month-old unborn child.

Trembling, I let go of the phone soaked in blood. With my final ounce of strength, I dialed the funeral home.

“Hello. Near Highway 23… please come collect a body from a car crash.”

A pause came from the other end, followed by the routine question:

“Who are you to the deceased?”

All around me, only the rain hammered against the car windows, and my breath grew fainter and fainter. I forced out my last words:

“I am… the deceased herself.”

On the day of the clan’s grand sea banquet, my mafia husband Victor took his beloved white moonlight Lilia to race jet skis in restricted sea waters without permission.
She twisted the throttle all the way open, and the jet ski crashed violently into the my luxury yacht.
The yacht quickly flooded and began sinking, yet Victor completely ignored the people screaming for help on board, only clinging tightly to the terrified Lilia and comforting her softly.
"Don’t be afraid. They trespassed into the restricted sea zone of their own accord; they deserve everything that happened to them."
Not until the entire yacht sank deep into the ocean and everyone aboard vanished without a trace did Victor dial my phone unhurriedly.
"Vera, your mom and Dante are gone in the sea."
In an instant, overwhelming terror swallowed me whole.
The very next second, I saw Mom shoving freshly cooked meat into my mouth just as she did when I was a child.
My brother hurried over with a grin to snatch a bite.
"Mom, you always favor my sister."
They are standing right beside me. Then who on earth was trapped inside that sunken yacht?

Ryan loves me deeply—at least that's what everyone says. Seven years together, we look like the perfect couple to outsiders. But only I know he's betrayed me three times.

The first time was three years ago. His brother died saving him, leaving behind his widow Sophia—Ryan's unforgettable first love. He married her behind my back. When I found out, I completely fell apart. I have dignity. I refuse to be the other woman. I wanted to leave, but he begged on his knees. "This is just to take care of my sister-in-law. Once I find the truth about my brother's death, I'll divorce her. Then we can get married."

I believed him. I forgot that a man never lets go of a lost love he's gotten back.

The second time was at last year's company anniversary. In front of everyone, he introduced Sophia as his wife. I watched them on stage, a knife through my heart. That night he explained, "It's just for show. Once everything's over, we can be together."

I believed him again.

The third time was two weeks ago. Surveillance footage showed Ryan with Sophia entering a hotel room. I rushed to confront him, but heard her voice outside his office. "Ryan, I'm pregnant. It's your baby."

Through the crack in the door, I see him hesitate. In that instant I understand.

He's going to keep her.

He spots me and rushes out in a panic. "It was an accident! Let me explain! After she has the baby, I'll give her money and make her leave. She won't be in our lives anymore!"

In that moment, I finally wake up. There will be no future for us.

The mafia boss chose me as his decoy—a body double for the woman he loves.

Eight years. Three bullets, one car crash, one explosion. The doctor said ten more minutes and I would've died on that operating table when they took my kidney. I gave him a son. He let me play "the boss's wife" in public.

Until he cleared every obstacle for her and decided to marry her.

Her wedding photos replaced mine in the master bedroom. He has her initials tattooed on his arm. When I questioned him, he had his men slap me at a charity gala, forced me to admit "I'm just a stand-in." When I touched her, he took away my custody, declared she was "the true lady of this house."

The punishments got worse. When he threatened to cancel my mother's insurance, I finally learned to shut up.

He pulls me close, whispers in my ear: "She gave up everything for me. Not like you—you were born to take bullets for me."

"Deal with it. She's not replacing you. This is her house now."

Even my son took her side.

"Stop being dramatic! Natalie actually loves us! You're nothing!"

But their pure, innocent Natalie? She unplugged my mother's ventilator while I was locked in the basement. Let his enemies slip poison into my drink during the last job.

When Grayson found me, all he said was: "She's pregnant and emotional. Go rearrange the flowers at the wedding venue."

I wipe the black blood from my lips. Look at him quietly.

"I'm dying."

In my past life, I exposed my cousin Isolde's deadly secret just to save Darius from absolute ruin, binding myself to him in a Soul Pact instead.

My reward?

At three months pregnant, Darius chained me to a water dungeon altar, carved my stomach open alive, and smashed our unborn child to pieces right in front of my eyes—all as a twisted sacrifice to my cousin who supposedly "died for love."

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the Pact Selection Ceremony.

Watching him pull her into his arms like some priceless treasure, I simply smiled and took a tactful step back.

In this life, I am going to sit back and watch the two of them burn in hell together.

For years, I believed a rival family had stolen my children. Four of them — two baby boys, then my newborn twins. Every time, my husband wept. He swore revenge. He held me while I screamed myself sick.
Tonight I went down to the basement looking for him. The door was open a crack. He was kissing another woman.
"I threw both incubators off the cliff myself," he laughed. "Didn't even blink."
He killed all four. To clear a path for his mistress's son.
He runs the family now. He thinks grief has broken me — that I'll spend the rest of my life crying in the bed we shared.
He forgot one thing. I'm the old don's daughter. This family was never his.
It's mine.

They called me a hellcat. A she-wolf tyrant. The Luna who made her Alpha husband obey.
I held him together when his father died. Built his dying pack into a powerhouse while he flirted with she-wolves.
Then he brought home his "fated mate."
Everyone waited for me to explode.
Instead, I smiled. "I'll help you prepare the ceremony."
That's when my wolf—dormant for years—began to wake.

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

It was a rainy night, and I was running wildly down the road, that man chasing relentlessly behind me, a malicious grin carved into his face. Desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—safe, the brightly lit bookstore not far ahead became my only glimmer of hope.

Then I tripped.

I struggled to scramble back to my feet, but the rain and slick pavement betrayed me, sending me crashing down once more. A sharp pain tore through my knees as the sound of footsteps behind me grew louder, closer. Panic surged. I clawed at the gravel submerged in muddy water, my fingertips just brushing against a sharp-edged stone when a low sigh breathed against my ear.

“You can’t run away.”

I turned my head.

He was already standing before me, rainwater streaming down his twisted face, his eyes gleaming with a crazed, cruel light. Slowly, he knelt down. One hand clamped around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. A blood-curdling laugh slipped from his lips.

“I’ve finally got you tonight,” he said. “You’ll be mine forever.”

Will Claire survive? Will she escape her attacker’s assault?

This is a novel of extraordinary imagination—step inside and uncover the thrill… and the answer.

My husband’s long-lost true love returns to our pack celebration—and she’s my twin sister.
For three years, I’ve been the unwanted replacement Luna, married to Alpha Brad after his mate Ariana supposedly died. I endured his coldness and the pack’s contempt in silence.
Then Ariana suddenly came back.
Brad abandoned me at once, doting on her and giving her my place as Luna.
My sister acts weak and hurt in public, but mocks me in private. I found another wolf’s fresh mate mark on her neck—she’s hiding a secret.
When I tried to tell the truth, she faked a fall and framed me.
Brad believed her over me. He forced me to kneel and apologize, threatening me with cruel punishment.
I realize he will never choose me. Now I’m pregnant with his child, and I’ve made up my mind. Tomorrow, I will leave them all behind.

This book is the prequel to A Werelion for Cat.

(Warning this book contains content that may be very sensitive to some readers)

Emma grew up in a world where all she knew was pain and abuse.

She had a mother who loved her but didn't have the confidence or self-esteem to stand up for herself or her daughter.

Emma's stepfather abused his wife and stepdaughter relentlessly, leading to the death of his wife.

Emma's stepbrother Leo didn't receive the same treatment as she and her mother. However, he grew up in a household with a man that treated females as worthless objects.

How will Emma survive the abuse that killed her mother and protect her daughter born from an unplanned pregnancy?

This story shows Emma's life from a young child to early adulthood and the struggles she endured along the way.

In my previous life, the apocalypse struck.
I fought desperately to protect the shelter, but she, overflowing with compassion, opened the door and let in infected people, causing the defenses to collapse completely and my only sister to die tragically.
Afterwards, she showed no remorse, instead turning around and currying favor with a warlord, enjoying privileges at the expense of her comrades. And I, in this betrayal, was devoured alive by a horde of zombies.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back three days before the tragedy.
Watching her once again attempt to morally blackmail everyone, and preparing to open that deadly door to demonstrate her "kindness," I threw her into the darkness.

At my bedside, for what felt like the hundredth time,my family asked me nervously,“Are you still planning to look for Elias?”
I blinked in confusion, asking, “Who is Elias? Why would I look for him?”
And at that moment, the doctors declared me “recovered.”
I was finally allowed to leave the psychiatric clinic that had tormented me for more than a year.
They told me—that Elias never existed, that I had fallen into delusion, loving a man created by my imagination.
I understand that only by obeying them can I regain my freedom.

After Martina Martinez and Benjamin Walker's breakup, paparazzi captured photos of the business tycoon entering the Walker family mansion with a mysterious woman late at night.

This caused a stir, and this wealthy family was bombarded by various media outlets.

During a phone interview, the gossip reporter asked, "Miss Martinez, how do you feel now that Mr. Walker has a new girlfriend?"

Martina held her painful forehead and looked towards Benjamin, who was adjusting his suit by the floor-to-ceiling window. He gestured for her to come over and help him with his tie.

Holding her phone, Martina responded, "It's... complicated!"

The reporter's heart leaped with joy and asked, "Is it heartbroken?!"

Martina was about to nod, but Benjamin raised his eyebrows and took her phone away.

His deep and alluring voice was heard on the other end of the line, "New girlfriend? Whose?"

I was falsely accused of killing my sister. My husband personally sent me to prison. Three years later, he picked me up, and that very night he stripped off my clothes and fucked me brutally.

He said, "The child your sister and I had together has a heart condition. You have to give birth to a baby to save him. This is what you owe your sister!"

He married me because I look like her.
For three years, I played the role. I cooked his meals. I warmed his bed. I smiled when he forgot my birthday. I stayed quiet when he left in the middle of the night to hold her hand.
I told myself it was enough. I told myself I didn't need his love.
Then I got pregnant.
He said he hated children. So I didn't tell him. I was going to keep it. Our baby. The only thing that was truly mine.
But my body had other plans.
When I called him from the hospital floor, bleeding out, begging for help—he didn't come. He said I was lying. He was too busy with her.
That night, I lost everything.
The baby. The hope. The lie I'd been living.
Now he's calling me. Again and again.
But the substitute wife? She's not picking up.

After I found out about the secret admirer he’s been talking to for the past two months the, he throws divorce papers at my face after being married for six months. He claims that his admirer would give him half of the Williamson cooperation. He thinks I’m the naive middle class woman he married but what he doesn’t know is I’m the owner of the Williamson Cooperation, the company I inherited from my father’s as his only child just before he died. Throws out of the house, I decided to reclaim my power and move back to my estate. I hosted a convention where the secret admirer would be handing him the properties and I put everyone in shock when I show up and they find out it’s me. Richard begs at my feet for mercy but I totally ignore him and choose his personal assistant who has always been good to me from the very day I stepped into Richard’s mansion as his wife

A madman attacked the concert hall. I threw myself over my son, taking every blow meant for him. My spine shattered in three places.

My husband Arthur subdued the attacker and rushed us to the hospital—the picture of a devoted, loving spouse.

It was only after hearing his conversation with the doctor that I finally saw his true colors.

My crippling injury was merely collateral damage. My son Ethan? Nothing but a living cornea donor for Mia—the cherished daughter he had with his first love.

He treated my child like spare parts, never knowing Mia isn't even his blood.

I’m Scarlett, the last true revival tattoo artist, capable of defying death with my cursed ink—for a brutal price. I lost everything saving my fiancé Hunter in my past life, only to be betrayed and killed by him .

Reborn when Hunter dies again, I refuse to sacrifice myself for my murderers. In an unthinkable twist, the powerless fraud Wendy resurrects Hunter, winning universal praise while I’m branded cold. Only I know the truth: he is not alive. He is a decaying, cursed corpse. I gamble everything for revenge and resurrect the only man who once saved me.

But tampering with death twice stirs a fatal, unspoken curse.

Selene thought she'd found true love with Alexander Morrison. She was WRONG—she was just a stand-in for Jessa, the woman he really wanted.

When Alexander and his twin brother Adrian's yacht exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, Alexander came home with Adrian's ashes, claiming to BE Adrian. His goal? To steal Adrian's wife Jessa—the woman he'd always loved.

Selene knew instantly he was lying, but when she told everyone, no one believed her. Alexander called her "crazy from trauma" and locked her away in a mental facility. She was PREGNANT.

They drugged her daily. After she gave birth, Alexander told her the baby died. She broke completely.

Three years later, dying in that white hell, Selene heard Alexander's final confession:

"I always loved Jessa. Adrian just got to her first. YOU? You were just her replacement."

"The kid's alive. I gave him to Jessa. He calls her Mom now."

Selene died full of rage—then woke up reborn, back to the moment Alexander walked in with that urn.

This time, she'd expose his lies and make him PAY.

On the night my grandmother died, my husband Kael came home trailing blood.
His leather motorcycle jacket was soaked dark red, yet he flashed a savage grin: "I wiped the floor with those bastards tonight!"
For three years, he had treated our home as nothing more than a pit stop between reckless street races.
I’d finally had enough. "After the funeral, we're getting a divorce."
Before the words fully left my mouth, my phone rang. It was his riding partner, Lunn, his voice choking with sobs: "Sera... Kael drove off the cliff tonight. They only recovered bloody pieces of his helmet!"
But the "dead man" was standing right in front of me...

I spent five years loving Beckett Calloway.
When his ex-girlfriend died saving his life, I held him through every nightmare. When he said he "wasn't ready" for marriage, I waited. When he whispered "soon," I believed him.
Then her sister showed up. Crying about some terminal illness. Begging him to take care of her.
He let her move onto our private island—the one he promised would only ever belong to us.
He introduced her at the gala where he was supposed to announce our engagement.
He got her pregnant.
And when I told him she was lying about everything, he looked at me like I was the monster.
Then came our wedding rehearsal. She walked down the aisle in my dress. He slid his ring onto her finger. The chapel caught fire. I collapsed, bleeding.
He scooped her up and ran. Didn't even glance back.
So I burned my vows, deleted every trace of myself, and vanished.
This time, I wasn't coming back.

The night before graduation, a confession post blew up the school forum:
“Daphne, I’m gonna rip up my Harvard offer onstage during commencement to confess to you—my whole college future as my love token.”
The OP bragged nonstop in the comments that he’d locked down the state’s only full-ride Harvard scholarship, his admission was a done deal, and graduation was nothing but a meaningless formality anyway.
The attached photo showed their interlaced hands. That old burn scar on his forearm—the one he’d claimed he got saving me—stared back like a chain that’s trapped me for ten years straight.
I poured every cent, every spare hour and all my academic talent into building up his profile just to get him into Harvard. I even voluntarily stepped down from the scholarship race and passed the spot to him, turning down my own dream school’s interview in the process.
This childhood sweetheart who’d sworn we’d go to Harvard together only hours ago threw every promise out the window for a rich transfer student, willing to gamble both our futures just for a cheap, dramatic grand gesture.
I shut the forum tab, pulled up my email to the scholarship committee.
I’m formally taking back the scholarship spot I gave up！

For three years, I genuinely believed I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Until I hit play on that video.

The moment the screen lit up, my perfect reality shattered into a million jagged pieces.

The woman writhing on the bed was Amanda—the sweet, innocent girl we had both grown up with.

And the hand tracing the curve of her bare skin? It wore the platinum wedding band I had personally slipped onto Louis’s finger.

"I missed you so much..."

"You drive me fucking crazy, baby..."

Hearing my own husband's signature sweet nothings whispered to my childhood best friend gutted me completely.

Our entire social circle constantly praised us as the golden couple. But beneath the glossy surface, who could have guessed this flawless marriage was built on a mountain of sick lies?

Well, if Louis was such a brilliant actor, I figured it was time to give him a show of my own.

I was going to rip off his mask and show the entire world exactly what kind of monster my "perfect husband" truly was.

A hundred years ago, that curse was meant for him. I'm the one who threw myself in front of it.
It cost me my elven heart, shattered on the spot—and a name I could never wash off. Traitor.
I never argued. Because the moment I speak the truth, the curse goes straight back to him.
So I stayed. I became his blood servant and let him drain me, one bottle at a time, to feed the woman he'd waited a century for. I told myself that if I endured long enough, someday he'd see my heart for what it was.
Then the healer told me my heart had thirty days left.
And he walked in, knife in hand, to say his beloved needed more of my blood.
This time, I'm not enduring anything.
I'm going to give him back this heart—at the exact moment he's most sure he's won.

To avenge his beloved, my husband locked me—pregnant—in a dog cage and sank it into the icy lake outside our house.
"Wendy spent ten minutes in the water. You'll stay in there for two days."
I screamed and pleaded, "I'm not lying! I really am pregnant! Please!"
But he towered over me, his eyes full of disgust. "You'll say anything to avoid punishment—even a lie like this?"
As the iron cage sank, the freezing water swallowed me—and took the unborn child with it.
Two days later, he had the cage hauled up, waiting for me to beg Wendy for forgiveness.
But all that was left inside was a curled, lifeless body, my dress soaked in vivid red.
I hovered above, watching coldly as he clung to my corpse, howling like a madman.
Eric, why are you crying?
Isn't this what you wanted?

For two years I was Easton's secret girlfriend. I paid his tuition. I took a beating from the guys who came for him. I gave up my MIT interview so he could chase what he wanted.
Then I heard him behind a half-open door, kissing my best friend.
"Last life she clung to me like a lunatic. This life I'm not making that mistake again."
Last life. They'd both been reborn—come back with every memory of a life I don't even remember living—and somewhere in it, they'd decided I was the desperate girl who ruined everything.
Fine.
I went back to my desk, pulled the MIT acceptance I'd been about to turn down, and signed it.
Easton, I'll let you have her.
He spent two lifetimes sure he was the smart one. He's about to find out which of us was holding back.

Five years of a marriage forced by family convenience end in the cruelest way possible: with a request for divorce on the same day they would celebrate their anniversary. Lilian, devastated by Ethan's rejection—the man she learned to love despite the circumstances—sees her life fall apart. In her darkest hour, when the pain seems unbearable, Lilian is saved by Daniel Spector, a longtime friend and silent confidant who has always loved her. At the hospital, news changes everything: Lilian is two months pregnant. But there is another woman, Joana Mercadante — rich, famous, and supposedly also expecting Ethan's child. With her heart broken and her soul on fire, Lilian decides to leave. She flees to France and, far from the eyes of the world, gives birth to her son and builds an empire. Five years later, she returns as a powerful woman, determined to face her demons... and she finds Ethan again. He never stopped looking for her, never forgot the love he destroyed with his own hands. Now he must fight not only for forgiveness, but for a second chance—with her and with the son he never knew. But will regret be enough to rebuild a love that was betrayed? Especially when Daniel, Ethan's new rival, is ready to build the life Lilian always dreamed of... and is already the father in her son's heart?

Elsie Clarke spent three years in a secret marriage, and just as long in cold, silent separation. As their third anniversary approached, she still held on, foolishly hoping her love could melt her husband's frozen heart.

But all she received was a call from his private club. His voice was indifferent. “You wanted to see me? Bring a condom.”

That was the moment everything shattered. The marriage she had clung to was nothing but an empty shell, and she was finally ready to let it go.

But just as she turned away, he began to chase her with reckless desperation. The man who once ignored her now couldn’t bear to let her go.

Five years ago, Rebecca Percy gave up everything to marry into the powerful Spencer Family.

She spent five years as a devoted wife and mother, only for her husband to sacrifice her to a financial tycoon for a business contract, leaving her to be abused and broken. Her heart turned to ash.

"Rebecca, you are nothing but a breeding machine. Without the Spencer Family, you are nobody! You want a divorce? Fine. But don't you dare regret it!"

But outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the ex-husband who had just threatened her watched in shock.

He saw her holding the divorce certificate, embraced by another man, and felt a burning jealousy—and a sudden, hollow emptiness in his heart.

Rebecca swore that from now on, she would focus only on her career, not love.

Yet, she found herself pinned on a vanity table by the young Master Whitaker.

As he relentlessly claimed her, he demanded:

"So, Rebecca... you think I'm just a fuck buddy, is that it?"

"...I gave your wedding dress to Elise." Julian said.
"What...Did you say?" I asked, just to be sure I didn't hear wrong.
"Elise," he said again, "I gave her the dress."
"And why would you even do that?" I snapped in anger.
"We've been talking, okay?" He rubbed his temples, trying to explain "She told me she wants her last wish to be getting married before she passes to me. So...I thought this, as the right thing to do."
The words exploded out of me like a volcano.
"How could you do something like this without asking me first? That's my dress, Julian! For our wedding, that's in two days!"


For many years I gave up my dreams and my youth to bring Julian back from the edge of death. We were legally bound in a secret ceremony, waiting for the day he could finally stand beside me at the altar.
But on the day of our wedding, the dress I made for myself was on my stepsister, and the man I called my husband was leading her to the priest.
With nothing left but a broken heart, I made a deal with the one man Julian feared, Sebastian Hale.
He is cold, dangerous, and the most powerful billionaire in the city. He offers me protection, wealth, and revenge, but in his world nothing is free.

Isadora Bellini spent her entire life living in the shadow of her twin sister, Giulia—but nothing hurt more than the moment their childhood best friend and her fated mate, Capo Lorenzo, chose Giulia over her. Shattered and humiliated, Isadora disappeared from the Luna Nera Clan, carving out a quiet life among humans. Eight years later, she’s dragged back to the one place she promised never to return—for Giulia’s funeral. What begins as a painful farewell quickly spirals into a storm of secrets, guilt, and dangerously unresolved emotions.
Lorenzo isn’t the same confident Capo who once broke her heart—he’s grieving, broken, and searching for answers. But so is Isadora. As truths begin to unravel—about Giulia’s betrayal, Lorenzo’s rejection, and a past that refuses to stay buried—Isadora finds herself caught between the scars of yesterday and the pull of a bond she tried to erase.
In a world where fate is sealed by blood and moonlight, and love can be the sharpest weapon of all… will Isadora risk everything to uncover the truth, or let her pain write the ending for her?
When love feels like betrayal, how do you trust what your heart still wants?

“Go find one of those perfect little she-wolves lined up to mate you. Play your Alpha card on them. I’m sure they’ll beg to be marked..maybe they’ll even let you f—”

“Seliene!” he snapped, his voice a roar as he grabbed my wrist.

“Stop touching me!” I shoved at his chest, voice rising despite the sting in my throat. “Stop acting like you care when all you've ever done is hate me!”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “There are plenty of men who would take me to bed without second-guessing it. Maybe I should let them. Maybe I should—”

His hand tangled in my hair so fast I gasped, and the next thing I knew, my back was against the wall.

Ronan’s eyes were glowing now—not just anger, but something else. Something deeper. His wolf was there, right under the surface, growling low and dangerous.

“Oh?” I taunted, my body betraying me with a subtle tremble of arousal. “What is this? You don’t want me, but no one else should touch me either?”

His growl deepened, vibrating between us, and then his mouth crashed down on mine.

I moaned before I could stop myself, and that only seemed to provoke him further. He pressed harder, his body pinning mine, every inch of him demanding, claiming.

He groaned into my mouth, his thigh sliding between mine and pressing upward. I gasped, my head hitting the wall as pleasure sparked through me.

“Don’t want to touch you?” he growled against my lips. “I want you with every damn breath.”


Seliene, a fierce half-breed hiding heartbreak behind a defiant tongue, and Ronan, the brooding Alpha who once rejected her, ignite in a moment of raw passion and buried longing. Bound by a mate bond they both try to resist, their chemistry is undeniable, dangerous, explosive, and edged with the pain of a love neither dares to admit.

At first, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world, at least maybe the sacrifices I had made over the past five years would pay off.
But I was wrong. I was just a replacement for Luna, whom no one ever wanted.
I was abandoned by Alpha, my husband, on our fifth wedding anniversary, for the woman who had left him.
What hurt even more was that the child I had raised with all my heart and soul ran into the arms of her biological mother, as if I had never meant anything to his.
Rejected, discarded, and cast out-all of it destroyed me. It felt as if the whole world had rejected me.
But just when I was about to disappear, fate brought me to the beginning of a resurrection I never imagined.

I kept a list. Ninety-eight times my husband chose another woman over me.

Missed birthdays, ruined anniversaries, broken promises—all for his "patient" Sophia, who seemed to have a medical emergency every time we had plans.

"It's just my job, Emma," he would say. "You understand."

Ryan thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He was wrong.

After an incident, I was determined to leave him, and before I left, I gave him an unforgettable "gift."

My boyfriend hated the new freshman, Lila.
She followed him everywhere from day one, and he’d complain to me nonstop.
“Want me to get her kicked out? My dad can write a check and make it happen.”
I laughed it off. “Cocky much?”
He nudged my shoulder. “You really not scared I’ll get taken?”
Please.
We were childhood sweethearts, bound by family and our upcoming competition duet.
Her cheap, desperate act? I never saw it as a threat.
I had no idea how wrong I was.

Ten years loving Liam Rockefeller cost me everything.

He said the football team jumped him—so I charged in and took the punches. He sobbed that his stepbrother would destroy him at Yale—so I ripped up my acceptance letter. He held me at midnight whispering "I'm so lucky to have you"—and I thought that meant forever.

Three months later, I heard him laughing in the locker room—laughing about me.

"Iris is like a fucking puppy, so easy to fool. Now that the Yale spot's open, Emily can go with me."

The bullying was staged. The tears were fake. Those intimate embraces—just tools to control me while he fucked his side piece.

He thought I'd still stand in front of him even with a broken nose. He thought I'd never wise up.

I wised up.

In his stepbrother Sebastian's bed.

Three years ago, I took a bullet for Damon Kingsley. It came within half an inch of my heart.

He looked me in the eyes, his own red, and swore he'd love me for the rest of his life. So I married into this century-old Italian-American Mafia dynasty.

But on our wedding night, the moment he touched me, he convulsed, coughed up blood, and collapsed.

The second time, an old condition flared up and kept him flat on his back for a month.

The third time, he nearly bled out.

Every time after that, the same thing.

The whole family called me a curse. Marked. Bad luck. The kind of woman who brings death to whoever gets close.

The Godmother gave me an ultimatum: get pregnant within a month, or sign the divorce papers and be shipped off to Chicago to marry the devil himself.

I was carrying a fertility tonic to his study, ready to beg him one more time, when I heard voices through the door.

"Mr. Kingsley, please, you gotta stop. Every time you don't wanna go near her, you shoot yourself up with that stuff. You're gonna kill yourself."

Damon was quiet for a long moment. Then, calm and flat: "Aurora is the only woman I love. I'd take the pain any day over touching her."

All this time, while the whole family called me a curse, the one who actually put it on me was the man I almost died for.

Damon Kingsley. After today, we're done. In this life or the next, don't ever cross my path again.

Since I was ten, he told me to call him brother. But brothers don't look at you like that.
My life had only Daniel Wilson in it. He was my guardian, my savior, my world.
"Call me brother," he said, but he forbade me from dating anyone else. He kept me in his manor like a bird in a gilded cage. He promised that when I turned twenty-one, the title of "sister" would change to "wife."
I waited. I obeyed. I loved him with a devotion that bordered on obsession.
But on my twenty-first birthday, he brought her home.
"Julie, meet Lena. She's... special to me."
He introduced his childhood crush to me, his "sister," while holding her hand. The way he looked at her was soft, gentle—the way he used to look at me before she arrived.
"You're just a foster sister," he reminded me coldly when I cried. "Don't cross the line."
The line? He blurred the lines for twelve years! He made me dependent on him, made me believe we were destined, only to discard me when the "real" owner of his heart returned.
Fine. If I'm just a sister, then I'll leave.
But why is he chasing me now, begging me to come back, saying he can't sleep without me in the house?
"I'm not your sister anymore, Daniel. And I'm certainly not your wife."

My chosen mate used his Beta authority to give the entire moonbloom compound to his fated mate's daughter.
The healer had said to split it—half for each child. Both would live. He overrode her. Gave the full dose to Rosalie Blackwell.
He wanted a full recovery. Just not for ours.
Three days later, my daughter Wren's organs shut down. She died on her birthday, still asking why Daddy wasn't there. The dress I'd made her—white with little silver wolves along the hem—she never got to put it on.
That same day, his fated's daughter walked out of the healing hall completely cured. He even threw a feast for the whole pack.
I collapsed at the border of Thornecrest territory. The healers told me it was cancer. Late-stage. Nothing left to treat.
Now I sat alone in our empty house with Wren's unworn birthday dress across my lap and drafted the dissolution papers.

I caught my husband sleeping with my sister, so I burned it all down.
The fire burned fierce, swallowing that abandoned cabin in the woods, along with my shattered marriage.
With the stench of gasoline still lingering on my fingertips, I thought I had finally buried the man who betrayed me.
Until the next morning, when he walked through the front door without a single scratch.
My mind reeled.
If he was still alive... then who the hell did I burn to a crisp last night?

"Are you always this damn sensitive?" my husband snapped, his hands lingering on his ex’s waist.
I stood there, holding our 5th-anniversary cake and my pregnancy secret. He canceled our romantic dinner just to comfort her.
So, I threw the cake away. Next, I'll throw him away.

Nora Vale was never supposed to be seen.

For three years, she rebuilt hockey captain Callum Pierce after the injury that nearly ended his career. She tracked his tremors, rewrote his recovery protocol, and carried the private marriage his family refused to make public.

Then he won the championship.

Under the arena lights, Callum lifted the cup and thanked Sloane Mercer, the beautiful sports host the cameras already loved. Backstage, Nora watched her own medical system appear under Sloane's name.

That night, Nora left with the evidence and the child Callum never knew existed.

Three years later, Nora is no longer hiding in the tunnel. She is the chief medical consultant for the rival team, the one woman the league needs when old concussion records begin to surface. Callum wants answers. His father wants control. Sloane wants the public story to stay clean.

Nora wants her name back.

But the fight is no longer only about a stolen system. It is about a son whose medical records could shift a franchise, a trust that could break the Pierce family, and a championship myth built on the woman they erased.

Callum thanked the wrong woman on the night he won.

Now the whole league is about to learn who made him a champion.

They put the calm ones on graveyard. I'm calmer than calm - I can't read a face to save my life, but give me a voice and I'll tell you what you ate for dinner and what you're lying about.

3:07 a.m. A woman calls. A struggle. The line dies.

By sunrise there's no body, no report, and the call I logged has wiped itself clean - like it never rang. The whole city is asleep on it.

But I've never trusted the system. I keep my own copy of every call.

He erased her. I kept the tape. Now he just has to find out the night guy nobody looks at has been listening the whole time.

I spent ten years following Ashton around like it was my job. He said jump, I jumped. He said he was hungry, I went and made him a sandwich. His homework, his fights, his messes — I handled all of it. I thought that's what being close to someone meant.
Then at the fall pep rally, in front of two thousand people, he strapped me to a platform, blasted me with paint, and let his girlfriend laugh at me through a megaphone.
I was the punchline. I threw up on camera. The video went viral before I even hit the ground.
So I did the one thing nobody expected — I vanished. New school, new city, new number. Every trace of him, gone.
I thought that was the end of it.
But Ashton doesn't let go of what he thinks is his. And what he's willing to do to drag me back? I wasn't even close to ready for that.

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.