431 Book(s) Related to lora leigh breed series

I'm an ancient vampire prince who's been playing human boyfriend to a demon hunter.
Big mistake.
She's completely unhinged—GPS tracking, 24/7 surveillance, the works.
When she threatens to dump me unless I surrender all my secrets, I do the unthinkable:
I actually say yes.
Too bad she doesn't know her "helpless" boyfriend has been the one keeping her alive all this time.

Betrayed and bleeding out, heiress Kira Summers dies at the hands of her treacherous family.

Across worlds, Alpha King Adrian Draven begs the moon goddess for redemption after losing his mate to his own fatal mistakes.

The universe answers…with a vicious twist.

Kira awakens in his mate's body: fierce, powerful, and utterly unforgiving.

In a realm of wolves, witches, and pack politics, she trusts no one…least of all the Alpha who thinks he can tame her.

He wanted his lost mate back.
He got hellfire in heels instead.

And this new Queen? She's ready to burn it all down.

One scorching night was all it took for the ruthless billionaire…Damien Voss to haunt Isabella Barnes' dreams. He took her body, shattered her trust, and vanished, leaving her with scars deeper than the secret she buried alone.

Now, on a Christmas getaway meant to heal her, Isabella wakes in chains. Her captor? The same man who ruined her. Damien mistakes her for the daughter of his sworn rival and vows to break her as leverage in his brutal corporate war.

But as days bleed into nights of dark pleasure and forbidden surrender, the truth unravels: he's been hunting those unforgettable eyes ever since that fateful night. And he has no intention of letting her go.

Trapped in his luxurious prison, Isabella fights the pull of his possessive touch. But still, anger and pain burns in her veins... until his obsession awakens something twisted and intoxicating in her own soul. Once he claims her, escape isn't an option…she might not even want it.

In a world of betrayal, deadly rivals, and unrelenting passion, will she shatter her captor when she discovers that he’s the same man that has haunted her dreams for years...or become his forever?

“Kai,” she warned, voice shaky.

He didn’t stop. His fingers slid lower, brushing against her through the thin fabric of her panties. 

 “You’re wet,” he murmured, almost surprised. “Even when you’re pissed at me.”

Mia's life turned upside down when she signed to fake date Kai the undefeated golden boy charismatic, ridiculously handsome, and the face of Apex Motorsports Academy.  

Until a vicious blog post erupts, grainy photos of him leaving an exclusive gay club surface overnight, sparking scandal and costing him multi-million-dollar contracts. Desperate to save his career and silence the rumors, Kai’s management forces him into a fake dating contract with the one person who despises everything he stands for. And the very person who was behind the blog post Mia Thompson.

When Kai threatens to destroy her future, scholarship, and dreams if she refuses, Mia signs the contract out of desperation trading six months of her life for a quarter million dollars and a chance to secure her mother’s future.

Thrown into a series of red carpet appearances, staged kisses, Mia and Kai are forced to play the perfect couple while secretly hating each other. But as explosive arguments turn into heated tension, fake touches ignite real sparks.And the undeniable attraction burning between two people who were never supposed to fall.

One sister was the object of a man’s obsession. The other became the obsession herself. Their closest ally? She’s fighting for her son…with everything on the line.

Ava
Her mother’s death was no accident. Her father sold her to settle debts. On her wedding day, she faced a coffin instead of vows.

Or so she thought.

Forced to marry the “dead” groom’s father, she inherits everything…by wedding his resurrected son.
Orion Miller returns, seething with hate, convinced she’s the villain. She craves freedom. He craves revenge.

Hate sparks obsession. Obsession ignites fire. Their collision could burn empires…or forge a love deadly enough to destroy them both.

Holly
Ava’s little sister survived leukemia and their father’s cruelty. But she won’t survive losing David Hunt…the ex-spy who saved her once, then vanished.

She tracks him down. He shoves her away. She refuses to leave.

Older, lethal, drowning in secrets, David becomes her obsession. A vengeful heiress drags him into a war threatening Ava’s empire…he exploits Holly’s love as his weapon.

He saved her once. Now she’ll destroy everything…even her sister…to save him.

Kayla
Kayla knows betrayal…abusive stepfather, blaming mother, dreams crushed by pregnancy. Alone, she raised her son after his father’s family rejected them.

Then he returns…not for her, for the child. Engaged, claiming amnesia, he demands custody, promising his fiancée will give their son “the life he deserves.”

Desperate, Kayla strikes a deal with a stranger in the rain…fake marriage to prove stability and win.

However, fake vows spark real desire between them. But, threats escalate…anonymous warnings, deadly hearings. Trusting her “husband” could save her son…or cost everything.

In a world of deadly debts, twisted devotions, buried secrets, and love that cuts deepest, three women battle to survive.

Who will rise? Who will burn?

“I chose you before I even knew I was allowed to choose.”

Alina Sterling has always been the perfect heiress…until the day she decided she’d rather be bad.

Enter Kai Rivera…the scholarship bad boy with calloused hands, a wicked smirk, and zero respect for her world of velvet chains and billion-dollar expectations. He’s everything they warned her about… and the only one who makes her feel alive.

But in a campus ruled by old money, a jealous cousin, a malicious fiancé, and a father’s ironclad will, loving Kai comes with a price.

One that could cost her everything.
Everything she may not be willing to pay.

She wanted freedom.
She wanted him.

But the question is, will she be willing to fight to keep them both?

“The forest doesn’t just remember the dead… it calls them back.”

When former LAPD detective Dahlia Quinn arrives in the fog-choked town of Woodhollow, she expects quiet. Closure. Maybe redemption.
What she finds is a corpse twitching in a grave, a mysterious local man who flipped her world upside down, and whispers that bleed through the trees at night.

Three towns. Four stories.
One ancient forest.
And a girl named Amy—once dragged into a black stream and never truly returned.

Now, decades later, something monstrous is being reborn from the pieces she left behind—inside a killer’s hands, a lover’s chest, a golden girl’s smile. And Dahlia is about to learn that some things don’t stay buried.

Some things want you to dig.

Terrifying, addictive, and drenched in dread, The One Who Never Left is a supernatural horror-thriller where curiosity is fatal, the forest is alive, and death is just the beginning.

"For the sake of her child, you must die, Elena."
Those were the last words my husband spoke to me before ordering my execution. He chose his lying mistress over six years of my loyalty.
But death didn't come for me that day. Three terrifyingly powerful Alphas—Kai, Ethan, and Ryan—descended like gods of war. It turns out, I wasn't just a rejected wife. I was their fated Mate, and an Omega with ancient healing blood. My ex-husband wanted me dead; my new mates would burn the world to keep me alive.

She was the girl he saved.
Now, she's the woman who refuses to let him go.

After escaping a lifetime of illness and pain, Holly is no longer Ava’s sick little sister—she’s fierce, fearless, and obsessed. David Hunt, Aka Mason Brown, the ex-spy who once betrayed her family and saved her from their murderous father, disappeared the moment she got him out of prison.

But Holly hasn’t stopped thinking about him since.
Ignoring her sister’s warnings, Holly abandons everything—her life, her country, her name—to track down David Hunt. And when she finds him? He’s not the ghost she expected. He’s thriving, hiding in plain sight, building a new life and trying to forget the sins of his past. But Holly won’t let him forget. She wants him. And she’ll fight anyone who gets in her way—including her own blood.

What begins as a one-sided obsession soon becomes something darker, more dangerous—and far more mutual. But when the daughter of David Hunt’s old enemy resurfaces with blackmail and a plan to destroy Ava and Orion once and for all, David is forced to become the villain again… and this time, he’ll use Holly’s love to do it.

In a world of secrets, manipulation, betrayal, and forbidden love—can obsession survive the truth?
Or will it burn them both alive?

“I can smell your arousal, my dear Harper.” The man with wolf's eyes moaned and sniffed her. As soon as she felt him slowly working his whole length inside of her, she forced herself to swallow hard.

“You’re going to have to spread wider for me...”

Then, all of a sudden, Harper opened her eyes. She was choking on her own breath and sweating heavily all over her body.

Since she started working at the Carmichaels, she had been having these extremely strange dreams, and this was another one of them. Those dreams of the large wolf and the man kept coming back to her.

Werewolves. Vampires. The supernatural. There are no such things, are there? However, Alexander Carmichael is a living, talking, and womanizing Lycan royalty.

Tired and fed-up as a put-upon assistant to the CEO's assistant, pragmatic, strong-willed, but sometimes klutzy, Harper Fritz, decides to quit and hands in her two-week notice.

But everything immediately goes horribly awry for her when Alexander Carmichael, the smug, haughty, and inconceivably attractive CEO, loses his memory and thinks he's human. Worse, he believes he's engaged to Harper, the one and only woman in his existence who hates every fiber of his being.

So what could possibly go wrong?

Two vaewolves. Two warlocks. A brewing war. And she's the middle of it all."

Jenny believed she would never be able to recover from the loss of her parents and twin brother. So she fled her home and everything she knew to a world dominated by vampires and lycans. When the universe gave her a second chance, she decided to forget about her past and embrace a new life.

As Vanya, the Rogue Hunter of The Black Hollows Pack, life became a lot less painful and much less difficult for her. But not for long . . .

The universe once again decided on her fate and made her the mate to four hybrids.

They will claim her. But will she allow them if it means tipping the balance between vampires and lycans, and unleashing the Lupus Deus?


WARNING: THIS BOOK IS ONLY FOR MATURE READERS!

This is a DARK-ROMANCE REVERSE HAREM story with a lot of erotic scenes, smuts, strong language, dark elements, mild BDSM, sometimes violence/abuse that may be triggers for others. PLEASE proceed with caution.

One Forbidden Night. Three Brothers. No Way Out.

Millie was supposed to clean up after the rich—not sleep with them.

But one reckless night with a mysterious stranger shatters that rule. The next morning, he's gone... And so is her sense of control.

She never expected to see him again.

She definitely didn’t expect to find herself working as a live-in maid for the ruthless, filthy-rich Moretti brothers—Ethan, Aidan, and Evan.

Each man is powerful, possessive, and hiding secrets behind cold eyes and cruel smiles. Millie swore she’d keep things professional... but lines blur fast in a house full of temptation and danger.

Now she's caught in their web—a pawn in a brutal game of power, lust, and blood-soaked secrets.

To them, she’s supposed to be just the maid.
But what happens when all three brothers want more?

Three kings. One maid. No mercy.

Be my slave for 100 nights, and I'll turn you into a lycan so you can be with your lycan lover for as long as you both shall live.


Matilda “Tilly” Parker’s life falls apart when her lycan boyfriend, Xavier Graves, leaves her with nothing but a vague “trust me.”
Human, heartbroken, and fueled by cheap wine and spite, she crosses paths with Cillian Ravenscroft, the vampire CEO of Valmont International. A century-old predator with ice-blue eyes and a smile that could tempt a saint.
Cillian is too smooth, too handsome, too everything—all sharp jaw, piercing gaze, and a smug charm that makes Tilly’s skin crawl and her heart race in ways she refuses to admit.
Cillian offers her a wild solution: become a lycan herself.
And he’s willing to make it happen—for a price. One hundred nights as his personal “slave.”
But she’s no helpless damsel. Scrappy, impulsive, and armed with a mouth that won’t quit, Tilly’s ready to claw her way through this twisted agreement. Yet as the nights slip by, the line between survival and seduction blurs—and the price of becoming a lycan might be far greater than just her heart.
Will Tilly fight her way back to Xavier—or surrender to the vampire who owns her nights?
One hundred nights. One impossible choice. And a hunger neither of them expected.

I thought I was just renting my spare room to a perfectly charming gentleman, but I had no idea he was spending his nights buried in my dirty laundry. Oliver Clarke was the definition of safe. He had this boyishly handsome face, a disarming smile, and followed all my strict house rules without a single complaint. He was the kind of guy who bought me coffee and knew exactly when to give me space. But behind the closed door of his bedroom, the "golden boy" act dropped. While I slept just across the hall, he was pressing my stolen, unwashed t-shirt to his face, inhaling my scent like it was a drug. He knew the exact code to my front door. He knew the layout of my life. He was memorizing every single detail about me, watching my every move with a dark, suffocating obsession that he hid perfectly behind his polite grin. I thought I had finally found a quiet, peaceful life. But what happens when the monster living in your house decides that just smelling your clothes isn't enough anymore?


A rainstorm brings Del Teller face to face with Oliver Clarke—charming, persistent, and impossible to ignore. When he unexpectedly becomes her housemate, distance is no longer an option under the same roof.
Del knows better than to trust someone like Oliver… but the more she resists, the harder it becomes to stay away.
Because sometimes, the real danger isn’t falling into trouble—it’s falling for the wrong person.

“I can make you scream,” he whispered, “without fucking you, Val.”
Then his tongue flicked against her ear before he sucked it into his mouth, wet and hot, his hips pressing harder into her, making her legs tighten instinctively around his waist.


"In his world, you kneel for one of two things—to beg for mercy… or to beg for more.”

Five years ago, Valerie Ledford let a stranger kiss her like no man ever had. It was supposed to be one reckless night, a dare to savor before marrying into one of the most powerful crime families in New York. And she thought she’d left it behind her.

Until now.

On the eve of taking over her fiancé’s billion-dollar real estate empire, Valerie meets the company’s newest hire: Maximilian Cardini. The same man who once pinned her to a wall and made her question everything. He is as dangerous to her composure as he was that night.

But Max isn’t just an irresistible employee. He has secrets—dark ones, rooted deep in the underground world Valerie is about to marry into. And while she doesn’t know it yet, Max has no intention of playing nice.

Hannah had been playing the role of a mother and father to Elisha for four years when billionaire Nate took Elisha away from her. She begged Nate to return Elisha, and due to Elisha's request, she moved in with Nate. After a few months, they became friends and developed a good relationship. However, their happiness was short-lived when Elisha's mother Olive suddenly returned, traumatized and only calming down in Nate's presence. Hannah felt like an outsider, realizing that she was keeping Nate's family from being together. She left, but Nate began to ruin her life, making her his personal assistant and bringing her everywhere he went, even though he claimed to hate her.
As Hannah's inexperienced heart begins to fall in love with a man who loves someone else, the question arises: can they become a family with Elisha and live happily without disturbance?

Emily Fields never meant to become a killer.

She was twenty-two when she stabbed a man eleven times behind the bar where she worked. She remembered the first strike. She never remembered the other ten.

Seven months later, the victim suddenly withdrew the charges without explanation.

With nowhere to go and only forty-one dollars to her name, Emily accepts an offer that sounds too good to refuse: become the live-in maid and companion of a wealthy widow at an isolated estate.

The job is simple.

Take care of the old woman.

But the Holloway estate is full of things that don't make sense.

Emily starts waking in parts of the house she has been forbidden to enter, with no memory of how she got there. She finds old photographs that leave her with a strange sense that she has seen them before. The widow watches her with an unsettling familiarity, as though Emily's arrival has been expected for much longer than she realizes.

Then there are the widow's three sons.

Max likes to watch her.

Will can't stop touching her.

And Finn avoids her so completely that Emily begins to wonder what he is afraid will happen if he gets too close.

Emily has spent most of her life believing her story began when she was found and taken into care. No family she could remember. No real answers about where she came from.

But someone inside the Holloway estate seems to know.

And as Emily begins digging into the family's secrets, she realizes everyone around her has been hiding something... including herself.

Because the greatest mystery isn't simply what happened before she ended up in the orphanage.

It's why she can't remember any of it.

Everyone knew my twin sister wouldn't live past eighteen. So they gave her all the love, leaving me to survive in the shadows.
When I suffered a asthma attack on our birthday, my mother locked me in the basement.
"Stop faking it. Don't ruin your sister's last birthday," my mother hissed.
She thought I was throwing a tantrum for attention.
She was wrong.
I died on the cold concrete floor while they sang Happy Birthday upstairs.
Now, I am just a ghost floating in our living room. I watch my parents complain about my selfishness. I watch them make empty promises to treat me better tomorrow.
They don't know there is no tomorrow for me...

My younger sister scored 8.2. I scored 0.3.
She was the genius. I was the waste-blood Omega.
My parents threw me to the strays.
Said I didn't deserve the Silver Moon name.
Said the slum was where I belonged.
Now I'm awake, with molten gold in my veins.
This time, you'll be the ones begging to take me back.

I and my twin elf sister married at the same day.
She was to marry the the Light Falcon Lord of the Holy Light Kingdom, and I the vicious Lord of the Black Scale Wyrms.
All elves envied her fortunate match.
But on our wedding night, the Falcon Lord left to fight a battle, and sacrificed himself for the realms.
The Serpent Lord later ascended to godhood, his glory outshining the Holy Light Kingdom.
Left widowed in the light court, my sister betrayed her vows with a knight.
The King stripped her elven power and banished her to the cell.
When I visited her, she tricked me into drinking corrosive spring water, erasing my soul entirely.
But I woke to find we had both reborn on the day our betrothals were declared.
This time, my sister fought hard to marry the Lord of Black Scale Wyrms.
I smiled quietly.
How could she cast aside a blessed life revered by all realms for a hollow dark divinity?

The year Caleb loved me more than anything, he cut all ties with the entire Donovan mafia family, gave up his heir title, and ran away from New York with me to live on the lam out of state.
But one day, after hauling contraband and working three side jobs till his heart flared up and he coughed up blood, I took the six-million-dollar check his mom handed me and watched as his family’s guards dragged him onto a private helicopter.
He clung tight to the cabin frame, begging me not to leave like a man losing his mind.
I tossed every last dollar he’d scraped and saved for me right into the freezing pool, sneering that the tiny amount he’d managed to earn would never buy me a Steinway grand—not in a million years.
A dead-broke wreck like him had no right to talk about a future together.
Five years later, we crossed paths at an upscale charity gala.
I swallowed every ounce of my pride and begged him to lend me a sum of cash.
He said yes—on one condition. I’d be the private pianist for his engagement party, forced to sit there and watch him live out his perfect engagement for everyone to see.
I agreed without a second thought.
He’d never have the slightest clue why I was desperate for that money.
It was all to save a little girl.
A little girl who shared his blood.

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

I gave up my Harvard Ph.D. and lived in the slums for five years as a corpse restorer, all to save my dying boyfriend.
But when I brought the $72,000 I literally bled for to his VIP ward, I found him drinking champagne.
"Thanks for faking the medical records, Doc," Ethan smirked. "Her sob-story money is paying for my Senate run nicely."
His glamorous campaign manager, Sloane, chimed in: "Just be careful, Ethan. What if she figured out your family background and is just playing the long game? She might be a gold digger climbing the political ladder."
"Please," Ethan scoffed in disgust. "Marry a woman who scrubs dead bodies every night? I'll throw her out the minute the election is over."
A gold digger? Me? Climbing his ladder?
I looked at my calloused hands, then calmly messaged the most terrifying political patriarch in Boston.
"Dad, you were right. I'm coming home, and I'll marry the Federal Prosecutor.”

"First, unlimited funds. Second, you clean up every mess I make. Third, keep out of my private life."
Those were the arrogant demands my student laid out when I, the top art professor in New York, offered to make him my exclusive protégé.
The entire faculty gasped. No one dared speak to a Voss heiress like that.
Instead, looking at his face, I gave a slow, quiet nod.
"Agreed," I whispered. "Just make sure you never ruin that face."
He thought I was just another rich, desperate woman blinded by love. He spent my money, flaunted his little girlfriend in my face, and trampled all over my dignity, thinking I would never let him go.
He forgot one crucial detail about being a substitute.
The moment the original returns... the fake becomes worthless.

My labor pains flaring violently the same day my husband’s widowed sister-in-law, Nancy, went into labor.
Nancy tricked everyone into believing I carried a girl while she bore the heir son.
Obsessed with securing the inheritance for Nancy’s fake male child, Rowdy locked me inside a hospital morgue cold storage, transferring all doctors, blood reserves and emergency gear to her VIP ward.
I knelt on icy ground, begging him to spare our baby and swore to renounce all family wealth, yet he kicked me aside and called me a greedy schemer.
His adopted sister Gina sneaked down, beat me brutally and injected a high-dose labor suppressant straight into my womb to stall my delivery.
It was only after Nancy delivered her baby that Rowdy belatedly remembered I was also stuck in labor downstairs.
Before he could head down to the basement, his panicked subordinate rushed in and cried, “Boss, Awful!—your wife and your son are died!”

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.

The night my childhood fiancé humiliated me in front of our entire senior class, I didn't cry.
I just went home and made two decisions.

Lose the 60 pounds.
Secretly reject my Princeton acceptance.
I erased his number, packed my bags, and vanished from his toxic orbit. Nathan thinks he won. He thinks he finally shook off the "burden" his parents forced on him.
But what happens when the girl you spent your whole life running away from... becomes the only woman you can't live without?

As a Senior Actuary at the Magic Scroll Bank earning a lucrative salary, I was my aunt’s favorite target.
For the ninety-ninth time, she pushed her "perfect match" on me: a forty-eight-year-old washed-up faerie hunter, drowning in debt .
"Seraphina, women lose their value after twenty-five. Marrying a steady, older man is your safest bet!"
To force my hand, she secretly slipped an Love Bond into my tea.
I smiled, pretended to drink it, and agreed to the date.
What she didn't know was that I secretly extracted the Bind Mark... and quietly planted it on her own daughter, Chole.
If she satisfied with this man so much, I would gladly grant her wish.
A month later, our family's chat group exploded. Aunt Agatha was screaming hysterically, cursing me a "shameless whore" for bringing home a Pregnancy Rune before marriage.
I calmly enlarged the image, circled her daughter's signature, and replied:
"Congratulations on becoming a grandmother, Aunt Agatha."

When the bridal bouquet landed directly in my arms, the entire reception erupted.
All eyes shifted to Elias, the man I had loved for seven years.
"Propose! Put a ring on it!" the crowd chanted, pushing him toward me.
My heart raced. I thought my endless waiting was finally over.
Instead, Elias stepped up, smiled... and pulled the flowers right out of my hands.
He turned around and shoved them into the arms of his twenty-five-year-old assistant.
"Don't be greedy, Kalinda. Let Mia have the luck today," he chuckled, patting my hair like a pet. "We've got plenty of time. Next time, I promise."
I watched his assistant bury her face in the white peonies, shooting me a triumphant smirk.
I just smiled back.
There isn't going to be a "next time."
My wedding is coming. And he isn't the groom.

I am the Don Dante's wife, but my life runs through my husband's underboss who always seduce my husband, Elena.
I can't wear a coat without Elena's passcode.
My cards are monitored. My cash is approved. Dante calls it protocol. He calls it protection. He never asks why I wear the same faded sweater in winter.
I swallowed every humiliation because my mother's ventilator depended on his signature.
But Elena intentionally delayed funds for my mother’s medical treatment.
The brutal clash made me miscarry.
My mother died alone without timely treatment. I stopped filing all daily spending applications for three days straight.
Today he calls, calm and condescending, telling me the medical accounts are restored.
He thinks I'll fall back into line.
He doesn't know the only thing I'm requesting now is a signature—his, on the divorce papers.

My organs are failing, rotting from years of toxic lab work.
My only life-saving antidote was stolen by my husband and biased parents, given to adopted sister, Ivy.
I gave up any chance to live, injecting strong painkillers to endure crippling agony.
The price I paid: only three days until my organs shut down completely.
During those three days, I surrendered everything I owned:
I handed over the Ghost formula that monopolized the black market, and my mafia parents looked utterly relieved;
Marcus laid divorce papers before me. I signed without a second thought, and said I’d finally become sensible;
The day before my death, I spent the whole day out with my son, yet he only wanted Ivy for his mother;
I gifted Aphrodite, the beauty serum, as my husband and Ivy‘s wedding present, and every single one praised me for finally being meek and mild.
I thought myself:
When I’m dead, will they feel remorse for the things they’ve done to me?

I’d spent four years slaving away in the hospital basement sorting medical waste.
I thought I’d finally scraped together enough money to pay for my brother Leo’s brain damage treatment.
But he just took the card and tossed it onto the coffee table.
“I got better ages ago. That lousy little paycheck of yours? I blew it on a necklace for Victoria.”
My husband David pushed open the study door. “That story about me going bankrupt and losing my board seat? Total lie. Victoria and I have been together for a year.”
“We planned that whole thing together—sending you down to the basement to pick through trash.”
My parents held out an organ donor agreement in front of me. “That waste disposal job? Victoria got it for you. Her kidney match results came back. You’re the only match. Sign this, and you can still be our daughter.”
Victoria walked in, holding a little boy’s hand. It was Eli—my son, the one I’d thought died in that car crash four years ago.
He stared at me with this cold, disgusted look, like I was a stranger. “Mom, is this ugly lady gonna give you her kidney?”
I pulled the physical exam report I’d gotten a week ago out of my pocket.
Late-stage osteosarcoma. They said I only had ten days left to live.
Counting today,I had three days left.

My childhood sweetheart, Henry, gave me a glass of milk the night before my Harvard interview.
I thought he cared.
Until I woke up with my waist-length hair hacked off and my brain drowning in sedatives.
Later, I found him at a cafe, laughing with the prettiest girl, Madison, in our class.
"You actually cut her hair? You're insane, Henry!" she giggled.
"Truth or dare, babe," I heard him. "She's fat anyway. But you need that Harvard spot, Madison."
The boy who promised to marry me traded my dream to impress someone else.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
Let him have his joke. I'm taking my life back.

My best friend Lily was brutally assaulted and tragically took her own life.
But I fiercely protected the monster who did it.
Lily’s mom knelt down and begged me, but I just closed the door coldly.
When the villagers came with torches to smash my home, I didn't hesitate to unleash my dog to drive them away.
"Ivy, you cold-blooded monster! We treated you like family, and you protected the beast who drove Lily to her death for a whole decade!"
"Today, I’m going to show the whole world who this man is—the one you’d rather be cursed by everyone than expose!"
But when my deepest memories were violently torn open and the culprit's face appeared clearly on the giant holographic screen...
The high and mighty Emma instantly drained of all color and collapsed to the floor.

“I want you to stage a private jet crash for me. That way I can get away from Elias for good.”
When my best friend Poppy heard my request, her jaw nearly hit the floor. She wondered if she’d misheard.
"Are you out of your fucking mind, Molly?" she deadpanned.
"I’m entirely serious." I said, keeping my voice dead flat.
"Molly, you're married to Elias Blackwood." Poppy stood up, running a hand through her blue hair. "The Elias. The Alpha who swore you were his one true love, fought his entire clan to make you an ordinary human his Luna, and literally threw away his inheritance for you. The guy who shares his live location with you 24/7 and fired every female assistant in his building. Half the internet calls your marriage the modern fairy tale. If you die, he will tear the world apart looking for your body."
I let out a dry, broken laugh. "He won't have to look hard. He already has a replacement."
Poppy froze. "What are you talking about?"
"He has another family, Poppy."

My little sister and I each bear a Heart-Seed Mark etched into our chests.
Inside each seed grow Heartbeat Petals—currency that can trade for anything under the boughs of The Heart-Root, the ancient devouring tree.
At eight years old, I plucked one petal to cure Mom’s terminal cancer.
At ten, I tore out another to mend my older brother’s shattered bones after his brutal fight.
At twenty-four, I sacrificed my third and final petal to wake my husband’s sister from a car-crash-induced vegetative state.
Now, two disasters struck at once: my father died in a horrific car wreck, and my husband’s mistress lost their unborn baby.
Both sides of my family flocked to The Heart-Root, all fixated on stealing my petals for their own wishes.
I tried to step aside and let my younger sister go first to make the trade, but Mom shoved me hard.
“Every bit of love we’ve poured into you these years, every petal came from us! You’d really hold out and refuse to save your own father? Ungrateful girl!” my mom snapped.
My husband’s mom cut in sharp as a knife: “A good wife knows her place. It’s your duty to bring that baby back for your husband. If only you’d given him a son yourself.”
They tied me tight to the tree trunk. I watched a girl standing nearby get torn apart by black, writhing vines when she had no petals left—her flesh dissolved straight into the tree’s roots to feed it.
But my Heart-Seed didn’t have a single petal left either...

On the night of the charity gallery opening, I caught Lucas and Lila tangled together in the storage closet.
He pulled the girl tight against his chest and sneered, “Stella, you’re eight whole years older than me. You’ve controlled my life for five years—when are you gonna realize you can never hold onto me?”
Lila giggled, snuggling deeper into his arms. “You’re past your prime, ma’am. Why cling to someone who was never yours to begin with?”
Snickers and mocking laughter rippled through the onlookers.
I gave a slow, hollow smile.
For five years, I single-handedly kept Scott Enterprises afloat, mopped up every mess he made, and buried every scandal spawned by his endless string of flings.
Still, he hopped from one girl to the next, weaponizing our age gap to mock and hurt me, over and over again.
Then he shoved me hard. I crumpled to the floor in a pool of my own blood, watching him bolt out with another woman in his arms, not a single glance thrown back my way.
I knew right then the baby was gone.
Everyone whispered how pathetically I’d bent over backward for love.
No one ever learned the truth: I endured everything only because his face mirrored my late fiancé, Elias.

"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 only family 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 grandmother die of shock.
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.

In the seventh year after I broke my fated mate's heart and he went abroad to study, he finally returned home with his new fiancée to meet his parents.
On that exact same day, the hospital finally pronounced my seven-year battle with Core Degeneration a failure. I was sent home to wait for death.
Seeing me sitting in a wheelchair on the street, supported by my mother, a mocking smile appeared on Kaelen's lips.
"It’s been seven years, and you've fallen so low you can't even walk?"
Listening to his disgusted voice and smelling the Alpha pine scent I once loved so much, I panicked, hurriedly yanking down the sleeves of my coat to hide the dense, ugly needle marks on the back of my hand.
"It's nothing. I fell and broke my leg, that's all," I lied quietly.
Kaelen sneered, pulling a beautiful Omega woman,Sloane, closer to his side. She smelled exactly like I used to—vanilla and rain.
"Since you're so free," he drawled, his eyes cold, "I'm getting married soon. Why don't you be Sloane's bridesmaid?"
I just smiled calmly. "No thanks. I'm going somewhere very far away soon."

I've signed five blood-bound annulment contracts with my mafia don husband, Killian.
Each and every time, he fed me the same line: "When this is over, we'll tie the knot again."
But every single one of those "things" was for the same woman: Seraphina Moretti.
We ended our marital bond for the first time, and I sobbed, begging him to tell me if his love for me had ever been real.
He clamped his hold on my jaw hard enough, enunciating every word coldly: "Elara, that doesn't matter."
When the second annulment rolled around, I was mocked openly at the family gala.
I locked myself away in the ensuite bathroom and sliced open my wrists; blood trickled along the tile grout.
My best mate tracked me down to find me trembling.
It wasn't the wound's ache making me shake, though—Killian was somewhere on the estate that very night, yet he never bothered to pop by and check on me once.
By the third split, I'd taught myself never to shed a tear in his presence.
On the fourth occasion, I even took it upon myself to ask him flat-out: "What sham do you need me to play along with now?"
He froze for the longest moment, said nothing at all in the end.
Now we're here for the fifth annulment.
He thought he only needs to click his fingers and I'll trot back to remarry him just as I've done all the previous times. What he did not know is this:
This time, I'm disappearing from his life for good.

In my family, "democracy" was just a gilded word for bullying.
Every time there was a conflict between me and my adopted sister, Ivy, my fiancé and my brother would settle it with a family vote.
The location of my marital home? I lost, 3-1.
The guest list for my wedding? I lost, 3-1.
 
And when Ivy wanted the massive south-facing master suite in my new house to build her walk-in closet?
"Let's vote to keep things fair," my fiancé, William, declared.
I was a rising architect at Boston's most prestigious firm, yet I didn't even have the right to design my own marital home.
The result was unanimous. The bride's bedroom would be half the size of the adopted sister's closet.
 
Out of more than a hundred family votes over the last ten years:
My fiancé's votes for me: Zero.
My own brother's votes for me: Zero.
 
I finally realized this game was rigged from the start. I didn’t say a word. I just packed my bags.
Let them play their little voting game without me.

"Kiss it for me, sister…"
I had no idea the milk I drank every night was handmade by my foster brother, Luciano.
After I turned down his confession yet again, I stared at the milk he’d brought me so eagerly and knocked it to the floor in disgust.
The boy who’d always been quiet and obedient suddenly snapped.
He pinned me flat to the ground, his face inches from mine, his breath brushing my ear:"I get it. You want to drink fresher milk, don’t you?"
I never imagined the boy I’d raised all these years could spiral this far out of control with his twisted feelings for me.
So the very next day, I put him behind bars with my own two hands, determined to put an end to this messed-up obsession for good.

The son I’d nearly died giving birth to looked me dead in the eye after seven years of calling the woman who ruined my life his mother, and spat: “You’re not even fit to shine Chloe’s shoes.”
My husband Arthur stood right beside him, sneering. “Even your own kid doesn’t believe you. Just accept it.”
I’d always thought if I just humbled myself enough, I might earn even a scrap of pity from this father and son.
I’d fought tooth and nail to get my son back, begged him on my knees to choose me, even when I found out my husband was planning to carve out my kidney alive to keep that woman happy — I still clung to the stupid, desperate hope he’d feel even a flicker of regret.
It broke for good when my seven-year-old son, desperate to please his “new mum”, stuffed the evidence she’d planted to frame me right into the sofa cushions with his own two hands.
That all shattered the night he forced me to kneel and serve for him and that homewrecker while they slept together.
In that moment, I was done being the doormat everyone trampled into the dirt.

I dropped out of Harvard and took on massive debt to save my dying brother.

For five years, I starved. I worked five jobs a day. I let debt collectors break my ribs just so I could afford his "life-saving" meds.

Until I saw him at a VIP club.
No wheelchair. No illness. Just a bespoke suit and a glass of expensive whiskey.

"You've faked this terminal illness for five years," his friend laughed. "Isn't Evelyn punished enough for upsetting your adopted sister?"

My brother smirked. "Almost. I’ll stage a 'miracle recovery' soon. She believes everything I say anyway. I'll make it up to her later."

Standing in the shadows, I wiped the blood from my mouth and walked away.

He his terminal illness is a lie.
But mine is real.

"She’s boring now. Dead eyes. No spark. I’m just pretending my memory is stuck at nineteen so I can punish my wife without her leaving me."
Standing in the shadows, I listened to my mafia husband confess his sick game to the doctor. By day, he played the devoted boy who once took a bullet for me, crying over my scars.
By night, he trapped me in pitch-black elevators, letting his men rip my clothes and take photos—all to make his mistress laugh.
He thought my trauma made me weak. He thought heavy sedatives would make me forget.
He didn't know I spat the pills out the moment he turned his back.
Valentino, you played me again.
But this time, I will never give you another chance. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

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.

On the eve of the wedding, Dante sold me to Alex, a deranged auto mechanic, for two dollars.
His friend confused.
“You’re going to marry Chole, that adult film actress. Just send Lucia away. You two were betrothed as children, and she’s lived with the Costellos for ten years. You must care about her at least a little.”
“That mechanic’s violent and ugly. She’ll suffer terribly if she marries him.”
Dante smirked.
“It’s just a small punishment. Chole comes from the bottom and is riddled with insecurities; all she wants is the title of wife. But Lucia refused to be my mistress, and worse, she made Chole cry.”
“Mark my words. Before half a day passes, she’ll throw a fit, threaten to take her own life, and beg me to let her stay by my side.”
His friend shook his head.
“Aren’t you scared she’ll go through with the marriage out of spite?”
Dante sipped his tea unhurriedly.
“No need to worry. She’s believed since childhood that she’d be my wife. Even if she’s furious for a moment, she’d never give herself to another man. I’ll rescue her after I marry Chole the day after tomorrow, then take her on as my mistress. She’ll only grow more devoted to me afterward.”
I clutched the two dollars tight and turned away without a word.

I was snatched at three. By fourteen, I was missing both legs, half-deaf, and half-blind.

When my billionaire blood family finally brought me to their Texas ranch, the fake heiress cornered me.
"Try any tricks to steal my place," she sneered, "and I’ll break your legs."
I didn't argue. I just unhooked my prosthetics and let them drop to the floor.

When my biological brother grabbed my shoulder, hissing a warning in my ear to stay in line, I tapped my skull and yelled, "What?! This ear is entirely dead! I can't hear you!"
They both backed away, looking at me like they’d seen a ghost.

But a few days later, the fake heiress threw herself down a staircase to frame me—and accidentally tore my shirt open.
The whole party froze. My back was a horrific map of trafficker brands and whip scars.
My parents pulled me into their arms, trembling violently. "Who did this to you?!"
"It wasn't me! Don't try to pin that on me!" the fake daughter shrieked in panic.

I nodded slowly. She was right. The traffickers did it.
I was the only kid who crawled out of their hellfire alive. And I promised the kids who burned that I would make our monsters pay.

I used to be a national gold medalist in ballet.
Now I’m the 210-pound laughingstock the whole school gawks at.
I starve myself till I pass out, train so hard my knees bleed, and still the weight keeps piling on like it’s got a personal grudge.
Till the day I hear my best friend cackling in the equipment room, voice shaking with laughter:
“No matter how hard she tries, her weight will always be three-quarters of Bruce’s!”
Bruce is the 280-pound deadbeat loser who sleeps through half his classes. And me? I’m stuck to him, tied by some sick system I can’t break.
She stole my Juilliard audition direct pass. Paid guys to shove me, call me names, film me tripping over my own feet and post the clips all over TikTok.
She watches me flounder like a beached whale in the mud, barely holding back her snickers.
But she forgot one thing: mountains don’t run from streams.
They wait for the water to crash into them. And shatter into a million pieces.
Guess what? The bet’s on.