4563 Book(s) Related to Ouch! My CEO Fiancé Fell For His Maid.

I spent three years warming his bed, nursing him back from the brink of death, and playing the perfect stand‑in for the woman he truly loved. He never marked me. He never claimed me. The moment his real mate returned, he tossed me aside like a broken tool, sneering that I was nothing but a low‑born servant.

But he forgot one thing – my blood can break ancient curses, and a dying king has been hunting for me across the continent. When my so‑called sister tried to humiliate me at her welcome banquet, I smiled and offered her a cup of tea. By midnight, her voice was gone.

Now my ex watches from the airport as I board the Lycan King’s private jet. He finally realises he threw away the only wolf who could have saved his pack – but it’s too late. I’m not going back to being his shadow. I’m going to the capital to become his queen.

She lost her child, her womb, and the man she thought was her forever.

After years of miscarriages, Elara finally agrees to let her best friend carry her baby, only to discover that her husband has been sleeping with the surrogate and plotting her death. The final betrayal shatters her, until she uncovers one thing that changes everything: he only married her for her wealth, and now plans to steal it all.

But Elara isn’t as helpless as he thinks. Beneath her gentle exterior lies the secret identity of a powerful heiress, and when her husband’s disgraced father returns from prison seeking revenge of his own, their fates collide.

Two broken souls. One shared enemy.
And a burning desire for vengeance that might just turn into something far more dangerous.

Eli is an omega. She gave five years of her life to Steven, believing he was her forever. But the day he landed a new job, he ended their relationship and told her she was holding him back. Heartbroken and humiliated, Eli returned home for what she thought would be her stepsister’s wedding.

Only it was not her stepsister’s wedding at all. It was hers. Her stepmother had arranged everything, and if Eli refused to marry the powerful stranger waiting for her at the altar, her father’s medical treatment would be cut off. With no choice left, Eli agreed.

She thought marrying a man she did not know was the worst thing that could happen. Then she saw Steven standing in the crowd. He was not just a guest. He worked for her new husband.

Now Eli is trapped in a marriage she never wanted, living in a house with the man who broke her heart, the husband who now owns it and now his twin brother who wants her.

Whose going to win Eli’s heart eventually?

At Blackridge University, everyone knew the golden couple.

Taylor Hastings—the fierce, scholarship student who clawed her way to becoming head cheerleader—and Rowan Hayes, the hockey captain who treated her like the center of his universe.

They were campus royalty.

Until the video leaked.

One private night.
One humiliating betrayal.
And suddenly Taylor goes from adored to destroyed overnight.

Rowan swears it was an accident.

But Taylor knows the truth after hearing the whispers from his teammates… the jokes about the bet… the countdown they made over how long it would take him to get her into bed.

Their relationship was never love.

It was a game he won.

So Taylor decides to play one of her own.

Her target?
Hunter D’laurentis—the ruthless bad boy captain of Frostwood hockey and Rowan’s biggest rival.

Hunter wants one thing: the championship that could finally free him from his father’s suffocating control.

Taylor wants revenge brutal enough to make Rowan unravel before the biggest season of his life.

Fake dating should’ve been simple.

A few staged kisses.
A few jealous headlines.
A few public appearances designed to destroy a rival captain’s focus before the championship game.

But Hunter D’laurentis touches her like she’s something worth protecting instead of ruining.

And when the line between fake and real disappears beneath flashing cameras, screaming crowds, and bruised hearts, Taylor realizes revenge was never the dangerous part.

Falling for her rival was.

Freya Ashford's biggest regret in life wasn't marrying me, but that she never truly looked at me. We were sleeping in the same bed but dreaming different dreams; she was researching immortality, and I was researching how to win her love—"It is an eternal power, and an eternal pain." This riddle led us down different paths. On the day of the prom, in front of the entire school, she pointed her finger at me and said, "You can't prove your love for me at all." But she didn't know that she would lose miserably.

Yes, I jumped from that rooftop. Wind screaming in my ears as I fell, thinking it might finally earn me one fucking tear from them. Instead, all I got was "she's so dramatic."
Now I'm staring at fifteen-year-old skin in the mirror. Downstairs, their fake voices call my name—identical to that "welcome home" afternoon three years ago.
Yvette rushes to hug me, sugar-sweet venom dripping from her lips: "Remember who the princess is." I give her the same plastic smile right back.
I hear the voice in my head crystal clear: This time, I'm not fighting for their love—I'm taking back the life that was always mine.

I die a miserable death in the dungeon, drained of three hundred years of pure blood. I owe it all to Elena and my ridiculously biased clan.

In my previous life, I am the Chief Executioner of the Night Abyss clan. During our hunt for the Alpha Wolf, she drops her weapon and throws herself into Lucas's arms, playing the helpless victim.

I take the beast's attack head-on and suffer severe injuries. The other knights just shield her, turning around to accuse me of being petty and jealous.

Prince Marcus blatantly favors his illegitimate daughter, Elena. He snatches my magic core, constantly puts me down, and even rips the core out of my loyal wolf familiar, Fenrir. In the end, he drains my blood dry just to feed her.

Now that I am reborn, I return to the exact night we hunt the high-tier Alpha Wolf.

I warned my family and neighbors that the extreme cold would come in a year and a half, but they all thought I was crazy.
I had no choice but to prepare myself a year and a half in advance: renovating houses, building arks, stockpiling supplies...
When the extreme cold arrived, the neighbors who ignored the warnings turned into thugs, yet my brother still wanted to let them into the house; the bandits pretending to be wounded were exposed by me, but my brother still didn't believe me and let them in; I finally managed to defeat the spy bandits, but when I wasn't paying attention, my brother, in order to save his own life, personally handed the Ark to the bandit leader...

At minus sixty degrees Celsius, my girlfriend of three years and my childhood friend teamed up to push me out of the bomb shelter and beat me to death in the snowstorm.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back fifteen days before the extreme cold arrived, and my phone had a new "Doomsday Farm" app.

Rapidly growing mutant crops and an infinitely large, temperature-controlled warehouse became my biggest trump card for rebirth.

Faced with two people who came with luggage under the pretense of "accompanying me" but actually plotted to seize the property rights of my underground research institute, I calmly turned them away, sold all my properties in the city, and headed straight for the suburbs with a huge sum of money.

Within fifteen days, I welded the abandoned research institute into a heavily insulated steel fortress.

When the epic cold wave arrived ahead of schedule, those who had betrayed me were trapped in an old apartment without water or gas, tearing each other apart over a tattered quilt.

I'm sitting in a 20-degree underground farm, eating hot stewed beef, drinking hand-drip coffee, and quietly watching them on the monitor slowly turn into ice sculptures.

In this life, having let go of my desire to help others, I simply want to live comfortably in this Ice Age.

One month until the SAT.
Staring at my phone screen—at the pulsing number on "Oracle," the mandatory score prediction app that Elite Prep forced every student to install—I couldn't help but think it was all a joke.
In my previous life, every time I finished a practice test, this garbage system would automatically dock twenty points from my predicted score.
But skip class for a day? The number would mysteriously jump up twenty points.
Back then, I actually believed in this bullshit algorithm. I completely gave up for an entire month, watching that predicted score skyrocket all the way to 1550.
But when I finally logged into College Board to check my real results, I'd scored a pathetic 400.
And that brilliant 1550? It appeared on my stepsister Dahlia's score report instead.
Disgusted that I'd embarrassed the Wright family, my father Harold froze my credit card without a second thought and threw me out of the family estate, clearing the path for Dahlia to claim Grandpa's ten-million-dollar trust fund all for herself.
That night, homeless on the streets, I was cornered by some thugs in a filthy Brooklyn alley and beaten to death.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, fading fast, I heard Dahlia's voice.
"Your GPA's been crushing mine since we were kids. I thought you, the so-called 'Straight-A student,' were supposed to be so smart."
She stood over me, mocking. "Turns out you got played by a prediction app. Pathetic."
That's when it finally clicked. My Oracle prediction system had been completely rigged from the source code—by Dahlia.
I shot up in bed, gasping, my shirt soaked through with sweat. I'd actually gone back in time—one month before the test.
Right now, the Oracle widget glowed eerily on my phone's home screen, displaying a single number: 1350.

Here is the English translation, tailored to match the gritty, dramatic, and satisfying tone typical of apocalyptic revenge web novels:

In my previous life, I was drained to the bone by the so-called "Doomsday Evolution System," forced to watch as my best friend and fiancée stepped over my corpse to scavenge my supplies.

When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to exactly three days before the apocalypse. When that faint blue, glowing "cheat" materialized once more, I decisively took a step back, watching my enemies fanatically claim it for themselves. They thought they had grasped the key to ruling the doomsday. Little did they know, they had just swallowed a parasite that would devour its host.

Then, the extreme cold descended, and toxic spores blotted out the sky.

Using my knowledge of the future, I struck a deal with a female black-market boss, packing an underground bunker with tons of supplies and heavy firepower. Sipping hot coffee in front of the control room monitors, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I watched my enemies be systematically stripped of their sanity, sacrifice their companions, and ultimately degenerate into mindless, mutated lumps of flesh driven only by base instincts.

In this man-eating apocalypse, I refuse to touch any bizarre parasitic "gifts." Thick alloy doors and an endless supply of ammunition—that is the only true law of survival in the wasteland.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.

My sister and I both married the wrong men in our past lives. I was bound to an overbearing Lycan Duke, who saw me as nothing more than a vessel for his heir. I ultimately lost my life in childbirth. My sister wed a frivolous Fae Prince, hounded and tormented by his countless mistresses until she was driven to take her own life.
Reborn before our weddings, we bravely choose to swap our marriage contracts, determined to break free from our cruel fates. This time, we rewrite our stories and grasp the our happy lives .

I think I'm dead.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in an abandoned amusement park, and my body was sitting on that slowly turning carousel.

I was only ten years old. I don't know how I died.

Detective Sarah, the blonde officer, promised to find the truth. So I followed her, watching her peel away layer after layer of lies—

In my diary, I wrote down all my fears and all my waiting.

On the phone, Mom sent that video of me laughing.

In the autopsy report, evidence of long-term abuse filled every page.

Mom had been saving money for three years, saying she'd take me away. That afternoon she picked me up from school and said, "We're really leaving this time."

Then what happened? Why did I die at the amusement park? Why was Mom's first reaction after my death not to call the police, but to—

I thought Mom came to save me.

Until I saw the text message she sent...

When the car crashed, I took the brunt of the deadly, mangled steel for my brother, Damon, letting half of my face be sheared off and my spine destroyed.

When I woke up in the intensive care unit, he mercilessly tossed an Engagement Termination Agreement onto my hospital bed.

"You're disfigured now, practically a paralyzed cripple. Give Julian up to Lily."

"She's beautiful, healthy, and she's always been in love with him. Having her take your place at the wedding is the best option right now."

The hospital room door wasn't fully closed. I could clearly hear him and our adopted sister, Lily, whispering out in the hallway.

"Damon, you deliberately caused that crash just so I could replace her in the marriage alliance. What if she finds out?"

Damon's tone was indifferent. "She grew up stealing the spotlight as the family heir. Giving Julian to you is the least she can do. Once she signs the papers, I'll put her in the best private nursing home. Consider it compensation."

I bit down hard on my cracked lips. Tears smashed against the deep, bone-exposing lacerations on my face, burning so intensely it made me want to carve the flesh right off.

Lily's sweet voice drifted in: "I'll make sure to compensate her in the future, too."

But Damon, even if I don't sign, you'll both get exactly what you want very soon.

Because the doctor just told me that my body has gone into multiple organ failure due to the severe trauma. I only have a few days left to live.

I died on the night of my eighteenth graduation party, pushed off a rooftop by the two people I trusted most.

In my past life, I was the ultimate fool.

When my two childhood friends—both heirs to top elite families—decided to throw away their futures, I panicked.

They actually wanted to reject their admission offers from Harvard and Yale.

All to follow Lily, a charity case from the slums, to a literal no-name trade school called Sunny Valley Vocational Academy.

I begged them to stop.

I even used my family's connections to try and get Lily into a legitimate university.

But Lily wept in front of them, claiming my money insulted her dignity, and that I was just jealous of their "pure love."

Liam and Noah completely lost their minds.

That night, they cornered me on the roof.

"Vivian, you killed Lily. Go to hell!"

As it turned out, Lily went to that trash school alone and committed suicide.

They blamed me entirely for her death, nursing that grudge until they finally pushed me into the abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day we were supposed to lock in our college choices.

This time, count me out.

When my husband's eight-year-old "nephew" Noah was diagnosed with acute leukemia, the whole family begged for my help.

They needed my six-year-old daughter, Molly—the only perfect match.

Against my instincts as a head nurse, I agreed.

But the second Molly's stem cells were harvested, their gratitude vanished.

To avoid paying for my daughter’s mandatory sterile recovery room, Noah's mother live-streamed a crying fit in my lobby, accusing me of medical extortion. My husband, Grant, stood by in utter silence.

Without the isolation bed, my baby girl contracted a severe infection and died. My mother-in-law simply sneered outside the ICU, "Dead is dead. Better than wasting more money."

Three months later, Noah relapses.

Now, my phone is blowing up. The same people who watched my daughter suffocate in her own fluids are desperately begging me to use my hospital registry access to save him again.

Standing by Molly’s tiny headstone, I look down at the confidential DNA report I pulled from the hospital database.

They think I don’t know Noah is actually Grant's illegitimate son. They think I'll just hang up and cry.

Instead, I swipe to answer the call. It's time to make them pay.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

For eight years of our hidden marriage, Caelen never publicly acknowledged my existence, nor our daughter Harper's.
On our daughter's eighth birthday, he threw a spectacular, city-wide welcome banquet for his childhood sweetheart, Seraphina, and her son, Leo.
Watching the glaringly perfect picture they painted as a "family of three," I suggested to my daughter that it was time to leave.
Harper, her eyes red, tugged at my shirt hem and pleaded, "Mommy, can we give Daddy three more days? Just three. If he still doesn't love me by then, we'll go."
Caelen had no idea that those three days were his final countdown as a father.

After my twin sister and I were accepted into the same elite university, our parents fully sponsored the freshman welcome banquet.

They told the university president, "This way, even at school, they can feel that parents will always be their unconditional support."

On the night of the banquet, my mother pressed a piece of paper into my hand.

"Elara, go to the podium. Read the address, and while you're at it, introduce your sister's upcoming toast. She needs the spotlight tonight."

Forcing down the tremors of an impending panic attack, I nodded submissively. "Thank you, Mother and Father, for arranging all of this. I'll read it right now."

Just as I was about to turn and read the address, a voice called out, stopping me.

"Elara, read the gratitude statement first. Remember, there's no such thing as a free dinner."

My father's voice cut through from the main table, ringing with an undeniable tone of command.

I froze at the podium.

Even though it was a perfectly heated banquet hall...

I felt a bone-chilling frost.

My mate, Valerius, was struck by a soul-splitting curse from hunters, fracturing him into a dual personality.

The rabid persona is brutal and cold-blooded. His heart holds only his childhood sweetheart, and he casts me aside like worthless trash.

Yet, when lucid, he is my deeply devoted lover—the man who sees me as his absolute salvation.

But the man who deeply loves me is slipping away.

It culminated on the night of the hunter ambush.

I dragged my shattered leg, barely surviving a sea of fire. Yet, to comfort his startled childhood sweetheart, he turned his back and walked away.

In the moment he left, I finally let go.

Because the eyes that had just abandoned me for her... were the deep, dark gold of his lucid state.

Later, when I accepted a deal to erase all traces of my existence and give them their happy ending, he completely lost his mind...

I was drugged with an aphrodisiac by my competitors, and Pierce Pei dumped me in his older brother's room.
Pretending to be delirious from the drug's effects, I seduced his older brother all night long.
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I blushed and complained to Pierce, "You were way too rough last night. I can barely get out of bed."
"But you were so amazing last night. I really, really liked it."
Pierce froze. He threw away every gift I had ever given him.
Later, after all his black cards were canceled, he stormed furiously into his brother's office.
There, he saw the cold and aloof eldest son of the Pei family kneeling on one knee, putting shoes on my feet.

I've been to four weddings. I never made it through a single one.
Not because I didn't love enough. Not because they weren't good enough. It was because every time — right at the moment I was supposed to say I do — my parents would appear on cue, fall apart on cue, and burn everything to the ground on cue.
For years I thought they hated me. Thought they'd given all their love to my dead sister, Claudia, and had nothing left. Then my brother-in-law said something that cracked me open: Any one of those three men — if you'd married him, you wouldn't be alive today.
So which is it? Were they protecting me, or destroying me?

Four years ago, Giovanni dumped me in front of everyone at an upscale restaurant. Two weeks later, he was engaged to Rosanna. I made a fool of myself begging on his doorstep, became the laughingstock of Ferro City.
Four years later, he runs into me at Casa Valentino, assumes I'm destitute, and offers me a job as a cleaner for him.
What he doesn't know is that the plainly dressed woman standing before him is the wife of Don Alessandro Valentino—the man the entire underworld bows to.

I had been married for seven years, thinking I had the perfect family.

Until Christmas Eve, when I saw a delivery order for apartment 702. The note read: severe mango allergy.

My husband's allergy. The one that could kill him.

I flew downstairs and pounded on the door.

My husband opened it. The same man who was supposed to be "out of town on business."

A pregnant woman appeared behind him.

And my six-year-old son stood behind her, glaring at me with cold eyes:

"Make her leave, Mom. She's crazy."

My world shattered.

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.

"Forty dollars. That's all the inhaler I needed to breathe cost. But in our house, nothing comes easy. 'Fairness first. Roll the dice — highest number wins.' I've rolled my whole life. I've never won. Not once. Tonight, lungs burning, vision blurring, I rolled for my medicine money against my sister. She got a six. I got a two. 'You lost, Hazel. Now go to the attic and think about your selfishness.' The door locked behind me. My chest is closing up. And no one is coming to check."

"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.

Terminal. One month, maybe less.
I folded the report and put it in my bag. The doctor asked if there was family I could call. I told him there wasn't.
My husband rang while I was crouched against the hospital wall, waiting for the pain to pass. I could hear waves behind his voice. He didn't ask what the doctor said. He wanted to know why his money hadn't come through yet. His first love needed it for her art show.
So I sent him all of it. My savings, and the last of what my mother left me. Ten years, settled in one transfer.
Then my legs went, and a pair of freezing hands caught me before I hit the ground.
The pain stopped the second he touched me.
"Your kind calls us reapers. Give me your soul, and I'll keep the pain off you until the end."
Weston took one look at him and decided I'd hired an actor to make him jealous.
He thinks I'm trying to win him back.

My influencer roommate paid a small fortune to grow a tub of "all-natural" beauty mud in our bathroom.
Ten days later, the thing crawled out of her face — in front of three hundred people at a party.
And I'd known it was coming from the day I first saw what she was growing.

After twenty years of knowing and loving my destined mate, Alpha Martin, we were finally about to get married.
On the eve of the wedding, He skillfully picked out the lipstick shade I wanted from my makeup bag.
That's when I knew: Alpha Martin had someone else.
That girl was wearing the custom evening gown I'd prepared for the wedding banquet, clinking glasses with Alpha Martin in a mate's toast.
Our friends surrounded her, respectfully calling her "Luna."
I didn't cause a scene. Instead, I called the hospital.
"Dr. Fabian, please dispose of the eggs I had frozen."
Then I sent a message to that girl.
"Yvonne Jimenez, would you like to marry Martin Daniels in my place?"

"Why? Because you still love your late wife??"

"Yes," he didn't waver in his response and he glanced at her and she could see the emotions much present in his eyes, they were genuine and consuming. "Does it bother you??"

His question drew her out of her thought and she quickly cleared her throat and shrugged, "No, it doesn't because I think I know that you still do, it's written in your eyes. You want someone to be beside you to help you convince the world of the lie that you have moved on from your late wife even though you truly haven't even after three years and you need someone who will know how you feel about her and still stay through it all. But we know such a person doesn't exist. No normal person would get into a relationship with you knowing full well that even though they fall for you, your heart will never be theirs. And so we make pretend and that's why you offered me the contract of being your pretend girlfriend, Mr inferno."

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

“I, Julius Armstrong, reject Doris Charles as my mate.”
The laughter came right after.
This was the second time my mate rejected me because I cannot talk. In the pack, they call me dumb not because I am stupid, but because I am mute.
When I turned eighteen, my first mate rejected me for that reason.
Today, it was the Gamma.
He is twenty-one, the same age as the Alpha and Beta.
This was his third rejection. The first girl was too fat, the second was too short and now, I was dumb.
I never wanted to attend the mating ceremony. I knew how it would end, but my stepmother forced me to go, and my stepsisters came just to watch me get mocked again.
The next day, wolves who had found their mates returned to officially claim them before the Alpha and pack leaders.
I went only because I was forced, just to stand there and watch my stepsister get chosen.
Then something happened that no one expected.
The Alpha claimed me as his mate in front of everyone.
Was I shocked? Yes.
Did I believe him? No.
Did I think it was a cruel joke? Absolutely.
Because no Alpha would choose a rejected, mute girl like me.

I had just found out I was pregnant when my husband handed me the divorce papers.

He looked at me with pure disdain. "You're not even worthy of me. Abort the child and get out!"

In the end, on the very night of his grand wedding to his "true love," I was crushed in a horrific car accident.

It was only when he held my death certificate that he realized his love for me had already pierced his very soul.

Years later, I returned with a new identity and my twin toddlers in tow, only to be cornered by that same madman.

"I don't know you, sir. Please show some self-respect," I said coldly.

He trapped me against the wall, his voice trembling. "Is that so? Then tell me... why do your children have my blood running through their veins?"

"It's still her." Three words.
That was all it took for the carefully constructed world of my last five years to shatter into dust at my feet. Zane didn't even have the decency to look away as he said it.
For twenty years, I had been the third wheel. The reliable shadow to Jovienne's brilliant sun. I had buried my own feelings for Zane so deep I almost forgot they existed, only daring to dig them up and confess them after Jovi had left the country and broken his heart.
We built a life. A marriage.
I truly believed, in my foolish, hopeful heart, that it was my happy ending.
Now Jovienne was back, and the illusion was gone. The love of my life saw me only as a consolation prize.
As my world collapses, the last person I expect comfort from is her husband—a man as cold and polished as he is powerful.
Vance sees the same betrayal in my eyes that he sees in his wife's.
Leaning in, his voice a dangerous whisper, he proposed the unthinkable: "They are living in the past. Let's be each other's revenge. What do you say, Nerissa?"
I should avoid at all costs. It was a game that could burn our broken worlds to the ground.
But as I looked into his eyes and saw the same raw, humiliating betrayal reflected back at me, the answer poised on my lips wasn't "no."
It was a terrifying, thrilling question. "What," I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt, "did you have in mind?"

“Please…” I whispered.

“Please, what?”

I ran my wet tongue through my dry lips. Voice barely above a whisper. “Please… please... please make me… make me… make me your little bitch.”

The words tasted bitter and filthy on my tongue. I hated myself for saying them. Hated how my cock twitched when I did.

“I can’t hear you, Jones,” He said, voice hard, low and commanding. “Louder.”

I swallowed again, eyes stinging. “Please make me your little bitch.”

“A little louder.”

My cheeks burned. I forced the words out stronger this time. “Please make me your little bitch.”

He smirked, slow and satisfied. The look in his eyes made my stomach flip.

“Good boy,” He murmured. “Now listen carefully, Jones. If you agree to this, you’re mine. Completely. You don't look at other men. You don’t think about them. You don’t even dream about them. Everything about you; your mouth, your ass, your cock, your body… even your thoughts, belongs to me. All of it. I get to treat and use you however and whenever I want. Rough. Gentle. Mean. Filthy. You take it all. And you praise me for it. Understood?”

I hesitated, heart pounding so hard I thought it was going to explode. The last bit of resistance flickered. My mind was screaming no; to get up, run and never look back.

“Well?” He urged, thumb still holding my chin.

I closed my eyes for half a second, detesting every inch of my being. Then I nodded, voice small. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes… I understand.”

“Good.”

...

Shane Blackwood is his name.

And he's a monster.

He's toxic, cruel and psychotic beyond your wildest imagination.

I knew all this.

And yet, I signed that stupid agreement.

And now... he owns me.

Completely.

There's no escape.

[This is a dark erotica MM. Rated 18+]

"Why did you marry me?"

"Because I had no other choice."

The day my grandfather fell critically ill, I was abandoned by my boyfriend of seven years and lost my last pillar of support.

To fulfill my grandfather's dying wish, I married Charles William, a man I had never met.

Cold, arrogant, dangerous—that was my entire impression of this new husband.

It wasn't until after my grandfather's death that I discovered the William family harbored a shocking secret.

They weren't ordinary people at all.

And Charles was actually the future leader of the werewolf clan.

Facing my father's greed for the inheritance, my shattered family, and one crisis after another, I could only fight back step by step on my own.

Yet that man who had despised me from the start always appeared by my side whenever danger struck.

I thought this marriage was merely a transaction.

Until one late night, when Charles trapped me in his arms, his golden beast eyes locked tightly onto me.

"Daisy, you're already my wife."

"Isn't it too late to think about running now?"

All I ever wanted was to be Luna in order to save my mother’s life. I thought Alpha Beckett would be just the key, but I was wrong.
~
“I, Alpha Beckett of Ashridge Pack, by the name of the moon goddess, reject you as my mate!”
~
A rejection.
A bond severed.

But life had other plans for me in the form of Xander Theon Grayson, hockey star, golden boy of NorthVale High, A-star student. But what I didn’t know is that he’s an Alpha with a curse.

I need him, and he needs me.

So we signed a fake mate contract. But it comes with a lot more than I expected: a jealous ex, mysterious powers that level me up in a system, a quest to find my origin.

But the question in my mind is: Can I save my mother’s life? Can this bond between Xander and I blossom into something real, even something beautiful?

Following a fabricated assault case, my husband had me committed to a psychiatric hospital to quash public outcry.
After five years locked away, my sight finally returned.
I was overjoyed and ready to share the news with Richard—only to find he had long betrayed me, carrying on an affair with my half-sister.T
he entire ordeal was a setup from the beginning. They framed me, poisoned me to rob me of my sight, and even turned my own son against me, making him call that woman "Mom".
For every lie and wound they inflicted, I will make that despicable pair pay the ultimate price.

"We literally just met. Don’t you think a flash marriage is moving a little fast?" said Michael, a blind date arranged by my mother.
"People get married quick all the time now," I shot back. "We could get the paperwork done, take time to actually get to know each other. If it works out, great. If not, we divorce."
He smiled. "Alright. Then let’s try it."

Sarah Martinez works as a restaurant server. Haunted by fragmented memories of a past she can’t fully recall, she’s desperate to escape her mother’s constant worry about her future. When she meets Michael Johnson, a man who seems to be the perfect solution to her problems, she impulsively proposes marriage.
However, Michael is not who he appears to be. He’s a man of power and wealth. When Sarah mistakes him for her mother’s arranged blind date, he decides to play along, intrigued by her sincerity and the possibility of a marriage free from the gold-diggers he’s used to.
Their marriage starts as a practical arrangement, but as they navigate their new life together, feelings begin to blur the lines of their agreement.

Will Sarah discover Michael’s true identity? Can Michael trust Sarah’s intentions, or is she just another woman after his wealth? And what will happen when Sarah’s ex, a Hollywood star, tries to win her back?

"Si... Sienna, you're drunk..." he rasps.
"Nope." I smile. "I know exactly what I'm doing. And... I've always wanted this."
"I've had a crush on you since forever... so I can never be wrong."
I never expected that crashing at my best friend's family lake house while her parents were away would lead to something forbidden. Her father—the man I'd known all my life—became the center of a night I couldn't resist. The attraction between us ignited into a dangerous, consuming connection that left me trembling until dawn. I slipped away quietly in the morning, hoping to forget and avoid him entirely.
But fate had other plans. Soon, I found him sitting across from me as my new boss. Every glance, every word carried an unspoken tension, a power struggle I couldn't escape. I tried to resist, but the pull between us was irresistible. In the privacy of my office, I indulged in the memory of that night, testing boundaries, surrendering to desire while he watched and controlled, reminding me who held the power.
Eventually, the line between defiance and submission, punishment and reward, blurred. And just when I thought our secret was safe... his daughter walked in, shattering everything.

He was my father's enforcer. My brother's best friend. The most dangerous man in any room he walked into.
He was the one person I was never supposed to want.

My brother disappeared in a pool of blood.
His best friend became my protector.

Enrico is a mafia enforcer, cold-eyed, ruthless, and built like a weapon. He doesn’t ask permission. He doesn’t explain. When men come to kill me, he doesn’t hesitate.

He takes me.

He says it’s protection.
He says it’s a promise to my brother.
But the way he watches me- hungry, possessive and unrelenting tells a different story.

Every touch is controlled. Every look burns.
The tension between us is sharp enough to cut—and when his restraint finally cracks, it’s devastating.

I shouldn’t want him.
He’s my brother’s best friend.
A killer.
A man who would destroy anyone who touches what he considers his.

But the deeper the secrets unravel, the more I realize the truth:

Enrico would burn the world for me.

Obsession. Desire. Blood-soaked loyalty.
This is not a love story for the faint of heart.

Because once Enrico decides you’re his…
You don’t get rescued.
You get claimed.

If you love dark, slow-burn romance where the danger is real and the love is harder to survive than the bullets, start reading. You won't stop.

Clare Voss has spent five years loving her stepbrother Zane in silence, cooking his breakfast, cheering at every match, and dreaming of the day he would finally see her.

But on his birthday, everything falls apart when his girlfriend exposes Clare's most humiliating secret in front of the entire team.

Just when Clare is ready to disappear, Rhys Calloway, her worst enemy and the team's arrogant captain, pulls her into his arms and tells everyone she is his girlfriend.

She should have pushed him away, but she kissed him back instead.

Now Clare is locked into a two-month fake relationship with the most infuriating man she has ever met, trying to get over a stepbrother who never cared and survive a captain who makes her forget why she was supposed to hate him.

The problem is that Rhys kisses like he means every single second of it, and just when Clare starts to move on, Zane decides he wants her back.

One girl, two hockey players, and a heart that was never supposed to feel this much. Will she choose the stepbrother who broke her or the enemy who caught her when she fell?

“I’m sorry Quinn, but I; Jeovanni Lum rejects you; Quinn Felon as my mate. You’re no longer Luna of this pack, nor are you my fated mate. Accept my rejection.”

His words awakened the pain within Quinn, and she fell to her knees, crying out when it became too much to bear…she didn’t want to, but if she didn’t accept his rejection, she’d die.

“I…I Quinn Felon a-accepts your rejection…I am no longer Luna, nor am I your fated mate.”

It was hard to say the words because these words were never ones she thought she’d ever have to say…
~
Quinn Felon was at the very pique of happiness when her life started to crumble apart. Her mate whom she had spent three long and blissful years with suddenly didn’t seem to love her anymore.

He became distant and cold, and soon Quinn found the reason behind his change…it was because he was courting her sister…her sweet and innocent omega sister; Delilah.

She had predicted that he’d choose Delilah, but what she hadn’t foretold was being rejected and banished in front of the whole pack in the middle of her mate’s and her sister’s mating ceremony.

Betrayed and divorced by her husband, Lara Montgomery was chased out of her home on a cold night with a child in her womb.

Lara thought it was all over for her. That she had lost everything.

But she hadn't.

Not when the handsome billionaire—Damien Otto found her and refused to let her die on his curb.

To Lara, he was her savior. She has found reason to believe again, to hope again.
But has she?

What happens when she finds out that the man who rescued her on that cold night was just being paid to save her and might have his ulterior motives?

Lara would get everything back. Rebuild her life from the scratch but the journey to the top is not always an easy ride.

Stay tuned for a ride through betrayal, regrets and second chances.

I moved into my sister’s house to escape my ruined divorce, but I never expected her aggressively cheerful best friend to become my darkest, dirtiest obsession. Lila and I hated each other on sight. But everything changed the day I walked through the front door……

She was right in the middle of our shared living room on a pink yoga mat. She was in the downward dog position, her hips arched in the air, wearing nothing but extremely short black yoga shorts that clung to her tight ass, and a minimal top that left her heavy cleavage spilling out.

I completely froze. Unwanted, utterly unexpected images flashed through my mind—me standing directly behind her, my hands gripping those firm hips, ripping those tiny shorts down, and thrusting into her wet heat right there on the laminate floor while she screamed my name. I dropped my groceries in shock.

But the real torture came at 4 AM. I woke up sweating, my cock throbbing and painfully hard against my plaid pajama pants from a wet dream where I was kneading her breasts and burying my tongue down her throat while I fucked her over the arm of the couch. I jumped out of bed for a cold shower to kill my raging boner. Instead, I slammed right into her in the pitch-black hallway.

Her soft, warm stomach pressed flush against my bare chest, and worse—my rock-hard cock twitched and pressed directly against her bare thighs. I flew backward like her skin had seared my flesh. We stood there in the dark, breathing heavily. Her eyes drifted down my torso, landing directly on the heavy bulge in my pants. She stepped closer, her sweet strawberry scent filling my lungs, and whispered seductively, "What, you can check me out but I can’t check you out?" She bit her bottom lip, her gaze full of pure, wicked lust, before slipping into her room. I stood there gripping the doorframe,my dick aching for release. I’m a grown LAPD officer, and she’s my sister’s best friend. If I touch her, it will ruin everything. But God, I am going to tear her apart...

The night they came for my sister, I cut my own palm and offered the Devil a better bride.

I did it in front of the whole city. I thought I was just a substitute, a disposable girl thrown into the fog to save the sister I loved. But when the Devil appeared—tall, dressed in black that drank the light, with eyes like pale, cold coins—everything changed.

He didn't kill me. He reached out and closed his freezing hand around my bleeding wrist. That was when he saw it. The old silver mark I had carried since birth, hidden under my skin. The moment his thumb pressed against it, the mark woke, blooming with blinding silver light. His stillness wasn't that of a monster choosing his next meal. It was the shock of a man who had just found the one thing he prayed never to see.

"You are not the one they chose," he said, his voice carrying into every frozen corner of the square. The cold rushed out of the air. He turned my hand toward the dying light, his face cracking open to reveal something far worse than cruelty.

"You were never meant to be mine," he whispered softly, his grip tightening like a vise. "And now I cannot give you back."

Daphne's groom failed to appear on the day of their wedding. Daphne was so devastated by the breakup that she lost control and drank all night, eventually running into Nathan, a successful businessman who had recently relocated to the country.
Daphne, inebriated at the time, barged into Nathan's private meeting, causing him to lose some of his most lucrative clients. Daphne spent the night in detention as a result of this incident.
As an apology for Daphne's hasty actions, however, Nathan offered her a deal - to be naughty nephew's private teacher.
Later on, Daphne learns that Nathan is the man who caused her misery years before. He is her ex-groom.