4342 Book(s) Related to for my lost love novel

The legendary general Victor was sentenced to death, and everyone thought he had already been buried in the grave.
Until a phone call came through ,
"Dad, help!... They took Mom away."

"Turn around. I want to fuck you."
I blinked. "What?"
"I said turn...around."
Before I could speak again, he had me on my stomach, face buried in the sheets. I could smell the heat of myself in the fabric. His weight hovered behind me, knees against the bed, strong thighs pressed to the outside of mine, holding me still. My skirt was hiked up around my waist. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.


Kristen Lockwood never expected to fall for her father's best friend. She only met Leo Moretti after her father’s death, when a stranger on a motorcycle showed up with a scar across his knuckles, a gun under his jacket, and eyes that looked at her like she was already dangerous.
He says he’s here to protect her, that it’s what her father wanted. But he watches her too closely, speaks too little, and sets rules she can't help but break. He acts like touching her would ruin them both.

The worst part is, she wants him to.

Leo Moretti is the leader of the Bloodhounds, a supernatural biker gang that guards the borders between worlds. He never met Kristen until now, never even knew she existed and definitely didn’t expect her to come crashing down his walls with her presence.
Now every moment between them feels like something waiting to snap. She wants to get under his skin. She wants to see what happens when he finally loses control. She wants to see how far he can go before he slams her into his bed.

Leo is not allowed to want her.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t.

Warning: Contains strong language, graphic sexual content, supernatural violence, and dark themes. Recommended for mature audiences only.

In a zombie apocalypse, survivors build a fortress-like base. My girlfriend and I are its lead researchers, racing to create the serum that could end the world’s collapse.

On a sampling run outside the walls, she chooses to save the “genius” colleague she just brought back—and leaves me behind to be swallowed by a horde.

With no way out, I inject myself with an unfinished prototype. I survive… but I come back as a zombie.

The difference is: I don’t lose my mind. I keep my human intelligence—and I can command other zombies. They bow instinctively, as if they’ve sensed a king.

Inside the base, that so-called genius is working with raiders beyond the walls, pushing a fake serum to control the troops and selling the defenses piece by piece to the enemy.

As the base collapses, the drugged soldiers turn on each other atop the ramparts. The chain of command snaps. Everyone is waiting to die.

Then—at the moment the walls give way and screams drown out gunfire—I stand on the ruins outside, raise my hand, and sweep it forward.

The horde behind me doesn’t attack the survivors. Like a disciplined army, it bypasses them and surgically crushes every invader.

Only then does the woman who abandoned me realize what she destroyed.

But I don’t need her regret anymore.

Five years ago, I knelt on marble floors, cleaning wine with my own dress while they laughed.

Five years later, they knelt before me, begging for forgiveness while I walked away.

They thought three hundred thousand dollars could buy my soul. They thought I was just another disposable substitute, another broken girl desperate enough to sell her dignity for her dying mother's medical bills.

Caspian Ashford wanted a replacement for his precious Scarlett. The Hampton elite wanted a servant to humiliate. They all wanted me to disappear quietly when they were done with me.

They got their wish—I did disappear.

But the girl who drowned in that yacht "accident" five years ago? She was weak, desperate, powerless.

The woman who returned as Elena Whitman?

I'm their worst fucking nightmare.

I died on the barren wasteland in a raging blizzard.
Before my death, many from the pack came to say goodbye.
Even Seraphina, my lifelong rival, came.
Only Kael, my Alpha mate of five years, was absent.
He was with that rogue Jennifer, watching the moon's reflection in Silver Moon Falls.
In my final moments, I received his mind-link.
"When the Moon Goddess guided me to find you as my fated mate, you were just a Beta. To inherit the Alpha position, I had no choice but to choose you. All these years I've been giving you suppressants, forbidding you from getting pregnant, and you agreed to it all. You've been a competent Luna."
"If there's a next life, I'll still choose you. In this life, rest in peace. I'll personally arrange your funeral."
Sensing this mind-link, my rival Seraphina sneered mockingly: "Karolyn, you really weren't cut out to be a Luna."
"In the next life, don't compete with me anymore."
Her words proved prophetic. When I opened my eyes again, we had both returned to the day of the Darkwood family's mate selection ceremony.
Kael said coldly: "Karolyn, the Moon Goddess has chosen you as my fated mate. You will be Darkwood's Luna."
Without hesitation, I stepped back and pointed to Seraphina.
"I think the Luna position is better suited for Seraphina."

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

"Call me brother," he whispered, pressing me against the wall, his erection hard against my stomach.
For twelve years, we played this dangerous game. By day, I was his obedient foster sister. By night, I was his obsession.
He never went all the way—saving me for marriage, he claimed—but he did everything else. His fingers knew every wet corner of my body. His mouth had tasted my pleasure a thousand times. He groomed me to be the perfect toy for his bed.
"You're mine, Julie. Only mine."
But then Lena came back.
Suddenly, the bedroom door was locked. Suddenly, I heard her screams of pleasure instead of mine.
He didn't touch me anymore. He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, "You're just a sister. Stop acting like a jealous lover."
He threw away twelve years of intimacy for a fresh body.
I packed my bags, leaving behind the lingerie he bought me, the toys we used.
When he finally realized Lena was a fake, he came running back, eyes wild, wanting to claim what he thought was still his property.
"Spread your legs for me, Julie," he begged, reaching for me.
I slapped his hand away. "Go fuck your sister, Daniel. I'm done."

I was a billionaire's canary. Never asked for it — but every time I slept with him, he paid another chunk of my mom's medical bills. Later he made me his secretary, and stupidly, I thought we'd built something real. Turns out I was wrong. He drained my entire savings to buy his mistress a $500K necklace. "What do you mean, your money?" he sneered. "Every penny came from me." I begged. He laughed. Then the hospital called: Mom didn't make it. That's when I stopped being anyone's canary — and started billing him back, in full.

I spent five years letting men degrade me at a club, all to save $300,000 for my blind brother Joren's eye surgery.
The day I finally raised the money, I excitedly told him he would be able to see again—only to discover he was never blind to begin with.
My husband’s "bankrupt" company had been thriving all along. My parents, who supposedly died in a plane crash, had been living luxuriously abroad.
My husband even took my "stillborn" daughter and gave her to my adopted sister.
My entire family conned me for five years to "teach me a lesson"—all because my adopted sister claimed I bullied her.
Now, they are forcing me to donate my liver to the woman who stole my life, threatening that I'll never see my biological daughter again if I refuse.
But what they don't know is that I have terminal liver cancer, and I only have two days left to live...

I saved Theron’s life, and in return, he lined up his eight grandsons before me. Whoever I chose would be the next Alpha of the Frostvale Pack. My wolf instantly recognized Rhysand—my fated mate. I chose him without hesitation.
On our wedding night, the moment I touched him, he broke out in hives and gasped for air. The doctor said he was allergic to me. Overnight, I became the city's laughingstock. For three years, I walked on eggshells, terrified to even step near my own husband.
Until he was dosed with a lethal aphrodisiac. If not cured within two hours, he would die. I threw caution to the wind and climbed into his bed. Through an entire night of skin-to-skin contact, there were no hives, no suffocation. His "allergy" had miraculously vanished.
But at dawn, his ex-girlfriend Linnea walked in. Rhysand looked at me like I was garbage. "If Linnea hadn't saved me last night, I'd be dead."
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. But before I could even share the news, a raging fire buried that unspoken hope—along with my unborn child—in the ashes forever.
I finally understood. He was never allergic to me.
He just never loved me.

I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was ten years old.
At first, my parents were terrified. They watched me closely, rushed me to the hospital over every bruise, every nosebleed. I was the fragile one—the child who needed saving.

Then years passed.
They got used to it.
They got tired.

By the time my twin sister was graduating and my family was finally breathing again, I was about to turn eighteen.
And that night, while everyone believed I’d be fine like always, I bled to death.

After two years of marriage, I finally got pregnant. I rushed to my husband's office with lunch to share the news, but his assistant mistook me for a sugar baby trying to trap the CEO. She dragged me into a back room and dumped scalding coffee on my head. When I tried to explain I was the wife, she laughed and called security. They stripped my clothes, kicked my stomach repeatedly, and destroyed my ultrasound photo. I begged them to call my husband, but they smashed my phone instead. By the time he found me, our baby was gone.

I was driving my dad's luxury car to pick up a friend when his secretary stopped me on the spot.
She mistook me for the lover who had sex with my dad in his office.
So she used car theft as an excuse to drag me into the basement, beat me up, and took nude photos of me.
When my dad found out, he asked me to apologize to her.
That's when I realized that in his eyes, his reputation mattered more than his own daughter.
If that's the case, he doesn't need to be the figurehead CEO anymore.

As I sat in the police station with Yvonne Harper, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, waiting for bail arrangements to be made, the decision loomed.
One of us could go home tonight.
My mate, Alpha Jackson, chose to take her.
"Nicole, just wait for me one more night. I’ll come back for you tomorrow," he said.
He was worried about her fragile health, but he didn’t care about my fear of the dark.
Later, I called him. My voice was steady, though my heart ached.
"Jackson," I began, "for the past few years, I’ve been waiting for you."
"But I won’t wait forever."

Reynolds Ashford.
His code name is: Devil.
When he returned, he found that his own brother had already passed away, leaving only a tombstone behind. His sister-in-law even planned to marry someone else and divide their brother's inheritance.
The man, who boasts an absolutely flawless record, stood in the rain.
Yet beneath his feet, the Chicago underworld remained oblivious, unaware that their doom had already arrived.

Jack left home at the age of sixteen and spent many years wandering in places where corpses lay in abundance, using killing to end killing. Now, he has become the commander-in-chief of the three armed forces, a legendary general, and is also known in the military circles as the "Son of War", unrivaled in the world.
But just as he returned triumphantly, he discovered that his adoptive father, who had given him immense kindness, had passed away. Upon investigation, Jack uncovered a web of intricate conspiracies lurking behind the scenes.
Regarding this matter.
Jack only has one word: kill!
The tyrannical and domineering mafia? Kill!
A British aristocratic family with a century-old history? Kill!
No matter how powerful or wealthy you are, in front of Jack, this undefeated warlord, the soul of the army, and the general of the country, you can only bow down and submit!

Freya is the adoptive daughter of the warrior mated couple of the Midnight Pack. She didn't have a scent, so everyone thought that she didn't have a wolf, just like humans.

Matteo Harith is the Lycan prince, soon to be king, who was waiting for his mate. He had smelled her since 9 years ago in the palace, but after that, he never found her, no matter how much he looked for her.

When Matteo was assigned by his king's father to look into the case of a pack that had been wiped out, he lived in the Midnight Pack and found Freya.

The moment Matteo stepped out of his SUV, Freya found out that he was her mate. But Matteo couldn't smell her at all. A tournament that had been held within the pack made Matteo find Freya to be his mate when their eyes met.

When Matteo finally smelled Freya's scent, it was also the time that she remembered what had happened in her childhood and that the palace had refused to help them when they asked, which caused her biological parents' death. What is he going to do when Freya was blaming the royals and wanted to reject him even after they mark each other?

Aurora had been through awful situations all her life, The first princess of King Louis, she was trained to be an assassin by her father King Louis - she was trained to be an impenetrable brick wall, Though many people in the community believed, the king hate his First daughter from another woman, and loved his two daughters from his Queen.

One day, King Louis was summoned for war by King Koppa, a powerful king whom other kings feared, because of his son, Malik. King Louis wielded aurora for the mission to infiltrate king koppa and killed him.

But the mission tarry because Aurora fell in love with the king's son(The crown prince), her father learned of the tarry and sent another assassin for the mission, King koppa was killed by another assassin, ​but the cruel and fiercest crown prince caught Aurora on the scene with the King's dead body.

After five months after the murder, the crown prince was crowned as the king. The man with the coldest eyes.

The first judgment he passed was the crucifixion of Aurora, the murderer of his father.

Yet, a voice whispered in his head

“Death is a favor in disguise for her, make her beg for death.

“TRANSMISSION is riveting, unexpected, and firmly rooted in strong psychological profiles backed with thriller and sci-fi elements: what more could readers wish for? (Just the quick publication of Book Two, Arrival.)”--Midwest Book ReviewFrom #1 worldwide bestselling fantasy author Morgan Rice comes RETURN, book #4 in a long-anticipated science fiction series. Can Kevin and Chloe survive alone in outer space? Can Luna, alone on planet Earth, avoid capture?All hope seems lost for Kevin and Chloe as their escape pod hurtles into nothingness, as they run out of rations and supplies.All hope seems lost for Luna as the aliens outnumber and encircle her.If there any hope left for humanity?“Action-packed …. Rice’s writing is solid and the premise intriguing.”–Publishers Weekly, re A Quest of Heroes“A superior fantasy… A recommended winner for any who enjoy epic fantasy writing fueled by powerful, believable young adult protagonists.”–Midwest Book Review, re Rise of the Dragons“An action packed fantasy sure to please fans of Morgan Rice’s previous novels, along with fans of works such as THE INHERITANCE CYCLE by Christopher Paolini…. Fans of Young Adult Fiction will devour this latest work by Rice and beg for more.”–The Wanderer, A Literary Journal (regarding Rise of the Dragons)Also available are Morgan Rice’s many series in the fantasy genre, including A QUEST OF HEROES (BOOK #1 IN THE SORCERER’S RING), a free download with over 1,300 five star reviews!

In this damned wasteland, nobody wants to travel with a burden.
But there were four filthy little ones who stubbornly insisted on following me, refusing to fight back or retaliate.
I looked at them, then at the approaching horde of zombies in the distance, and tossed a loaded pistol in front of them.
"Want to follow me? Fine."
I coldly placed a knife to the neck of the outermost zombie. "Here, if you want me, the lone wolf, to take you along, you'll have to prove you're not trash!"
"Take it and shoot it in the head! That's the only ticket to joining my team!"
The sixteen-year-old girl, tears streaming down her face, gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger.
I knew I could never shake them off again.

I’m a cleaner—the kind hired to make problems disappear: eliminate targets, wipe scenes, erase evidence.

Three years ago, I walked away. I took a desk job at a consulting firm, spending my days sorting files and filling spreadsheets.

To everyone else, I was an easy mark. The project lead mocked me in meetings, stole credit, and dumped every mistake on my head—always in public.

Then came the department banquet.

My enemies showed up.

The same lead who’d been riding me all year ignored my warning and blocked the hallway, drawing a crowd.

The next second, the bomb went off—and the banquet hall was sealed.

That’s when everyone finally understood who the quiet office clerk really was.

Last time, she chased the “true love” a corporate spy sold her—publicly branded me controlling, stole my core tech, and helped him shove me off a rooftop.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before it all began.

This time I didn’t expose her, didn’t confront her, and didn’t beg her to stay. I set the trap—watched her come close again, test my limits, and steal the “core technology”…

Until the stolen code blew up the rival company, until she was unmasked in front of the cameras and taken away in handcuffs.

Through tears, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner he was a corporate spy?”

I answered only, “I did. Last life.”

Three years ago, I exhausted everything I had in the Abyss Game to save my critically ill wife.
Three years later, my wife and her lover became an inseparable pair in the Abyss Game. To save their own lives, they used my only sister as a substitute, sending her to a dangerous situation where she was devoured by ghouls.
They thought I had lost everything and could be humiliated at will.
But when I chose to accept becoming the master of the Abyss Game, why did they suddenly kneel down and beg for mercy?

"I'm coming to cut out my baby from your stomach myself."
They called me Rose, but they forgot one truth: every rose comes with thorns.
I trusted my husband. I loved my best friend. They repaid me by poisoning my father, stealing my inheritance, and locking me in a basement to rot—six months pregnant.
I died watching them wear my jewels and laugh at my misery.
Then fate gave me a second chance.
I woke up at my father's funeral, the taste of betrayal still fresh on my tongue.
They think I'm still the same soft, grieving heiress they can drug and manipulate. They think I'm an easy target.
They're wrong.
This time, I'm not just defending my father's legacy. I'm burning their world to the ground.
From the funeral podium to the boardroom, I'm reclaiming my power piece by piece.
But as I rewrite my destiny, my enemies are evolving. Worse, the man who should be dead isn't staying buried.
How far am I willing to go to win? And when the thorns I've grown finally draw blood—will I be the one holding the blade, or the one bleeding out?

My Big Bad Wolf Series: Elysia & Alex-Book 1 (Nocturnal Collections)

She broke into his mansion. Now she’s trapped in his world.

A cunning thief with nothing to lose.
A powerful Alpha with everything to protect.
When Elysia Crinshaw is caught stealing from Alex Landry, she doesn’t go to jail, she’s claimed. Drawn into his world, she learns that freedom can be more dangerous than chains…and love more brutal than any cage.

The night before move-in, Vivian Owens’ housing collapses and her best friends betray her.

Her only lifeline? Crashing with her brother and his roommate —
Elias “Carter” Carter, the tattooed star point guard every girl wants.

One accidental aphrodisiac cookie night turns her into his willing little sub as he commands her

“Don’t stop, My Little Bubbles.”

But Carter’s gang past , a situationship with her own reconciled ex-best friend Kelly , draft pressure, and his own demons rip them apart again and again. Two pregnancies. Two brutal runaways. A jealous rival doctor who becomes a monster. Readers will scream at Carter, cry for him, and beg for more.

Some love don’t just break hearts — they start wars on and off the court.

Her hands slid up to his chest, palms flat, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. The fear didn’t vanish completely. But it quieted. Receded into the background. Logan’s thumb brushed her cheek, slow and grounding, as his other hand settled at her waist.

The kiss grew warmer. Slower. Logan felt it too, sharp and electric. His wolf stirred restlessly, recognizing something it shouldn’t, something it wanted to claim even as his mind warned him to stop. He broke the kiss first, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers.

“Emily,” he murmured, strained. “We should—” She didn’t let him finish. Her lips brushed his jaw, tentative, almost questioning. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t send me away.”


After being betrayed forty-eight times by her mate, Oscar, Emily is drugged and offered to powerful wolves for his gain. Desperate and fleeing danger, she collapses into the arms of Lucas Walker, one of seven feared Alpha Brothers who rule the strongest pack. Drawn to her by an unstoppable pull, the brothers vow to protect her. But Emily’s past hides a darker secret, one that fate has bound to all of them.

I used to think love was supposed to hurt.

Sidney forgot me five times in one month, left me waiting in the dark, and always had a reason—Azalea needed help, his friends needed him, something else came first.

I told myself he loved me.

He just loved me lazily.

Then one night, after I missed the last bus from my competition, I called the Lawson house. Sidney wasn’t there. Elijah answered.

He was rude. Cold. Infuriating.

But he came.

When three men cornered me on an empty street, Elijah became a wall between me and danger. When I cried in my bathroom, he cleaned my bruises. When my calf cramped so badly I couldn’t stand, he knelt on the tile and fixed the pain with careful hands.

He never said sweet things.

He just showed up.

Again and again.

Soon, I started looking for him in every crowd, every rainstorm, every silent night. I told myself it was gratitude. Dependence. Anything but love.

Because falling for Elijah meant betraying Sidney.

But how long can a heart stay loyal to someone who never protects it?

They say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. They never said anything about his soul.

I was a culinary prodigy on the verge of global fame until my fiancé and my best friend murdered me with my own carving knife to steal my recipes. My last thought wasn’t of love, but of a burning vow: If I get a second chance, I will serve them their just deserts.

I got my wish.

I woke up not in a morgue, but in the body of an omega slave, Number 74, in the brutal, wolf-ruled kingdom of the Lunar Fang Pack. I was weak, worthless, and slated to die in the kitchens. But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. The soul of a master chef still burned within me.

When I poured my rage and my grief into a simple broth for a dying slave, I discovered a truth that would shatter this world: my emotions are ingredients. My cooking is magic. A stew made with spite can poison. A cake baked with defiance can empower.

Now, my unique gift has drawn the attention of the three most dangerous Alphas in the kingdom.

Emperor Kael, the cursed and ruthless Alpha King
ho woman, not just the weapon.

Commander Cassian, his stoic, lethal protector,

Prince Raze, the visiting rival Alpha

They think I’m a pawn in their game of thrones. A tool to be used and discarded.

They have no idea.

I was betrayed for my recipes once. I’ll be damned if I let a trio of Alphas do it again. My menu is set, and this time, the main course is revenge.

The only question is: which of these powerful wolves will be the first to take a bite?

I accidentally entered an S-rank horror dungeon, but thought it was some immersive dating show.

Facing the bloodthirsty Ghost King BOSS:

Others: Begging for mercy.

Me (blushing): Those pecs, that battle-damaged look—where did they find such a gorgeous contestant? I'm obsessed!

When he tried to strangle me, I touched his hand. "You're so cold, let me warm you up~"

Ghost King: ???

Facing the psycho doctor with a chainsaw:

Others: Screaming and running.

Me (swooning): Doctor, those beautiful fingers are meant for piano, not chainsaws. Be sweet and put that down!

Doctor: ...

Facing the flesh-eating demon:

Me: Raw meat isn't healthy! Here, have some chocolate instead!

Seven days later, the dungeon collapsed.

Me, waving goodbye through tears. "Even though it was acting, you became my family!"

When the zombie apocalypse hit, my girlfriend called me weak and hypocritical. She said only the strong deserved to survive, then handed the map of the base I had spent two years building to a warlord and watched me bleed out in the dirt.

Then I opened my eyes and woke up four months earlier.

The warlord had not arrived yet.
I did not expose her. I did not beg her to stay. I quietly reinforced the walls, emptied the warehouse, and dug traps beyond the fence.

She passed the intel like before. She opened the gate like before. She thought she would win again, and she thought I would be softhearted again.

She only realized the truth after leading them into the warehouse and finding an empty cage.

She dropped to her knees in the mud, begging the warlord to take her with him. But the strong man she chose kicked her off the truck and left her for the dead.

At last, she tasted the rule she worshipped.

They told me my daughter drowned. Too much to drink, a slick deck, a terrible accident.

Then they put a number on her, slid the check across the table, and asked me to sign away the right to ever ask how she died.

I signed.

They didn't ask what I'd do after.

I changed my name. I spent three years earning a desk in their building, close enough to hear the man who buried her joke about the father who "made some noise, took the money, and went away."

He doesn't know my face. None of them do.

They thought the money bought my silence.

They have no idea what it bought.

Missing for five years, I dragged my slightly crippled left leg back to the slums.

Only to see my once-gentle wife wearing a cheap, fraying apron, being mercilessly humiliated in front of a greasy sink.
My five-year-old son was cowering beside a pile of garbage, clutching a broken toy, trembling in fear.

A high-and-mighty tycoon slapped a three-million-dollar IOU across my face. A thug kicked a plate of rancid, rotting meat scraps to my feet, sneering, "Lick it clean, and I'll waive ten thousand in interest."

Desperate to protect me, my wife pushed me away, only to be brutally kicked into the muddy water by a bodyguard, revealing a back covered in a suffocating, horrific lattice of burn marks and whip scars.

Everyone thought I was just a crippled piece of trash—a useless man who couldn't even protect his own wife and child.
That was, until I reached into my coat and pulled out a black satellite phone that had gathered dust for five years.

"Disable Ghost Silence Protocol. Initiate full takeover."

That night, eight heavy attack helicopters tore through the clouds, blotting out the sky.
Hundreds of fully armed, elite special operatives descended from above. Dropping to one knee in the freezing mud, they roared in unison: "Welcome back, Young Master!"

The entire city’s municipal assets, the police force, the underworld—both the light and the dark—could be reduced to ashes with a single thought from me.

I took off my tattered jacket and draped it gently over my wife's trembling shoulders. Then, I crushed the tycoon's mechanical prosthetic limb with my bare hands. My voice was calm, yet it sent a chilling shockwave through everyone present:

"Three million? I just did the math on the scars you owe my wife..."
"Now, you owe me thirty billion."

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

My husband Michael's father and my own father shared the same name—Robert. His was Robert Carter; mine, Robert Smith. I once thought it a sweet coincidence, until that 3 AM phone call turned this quirk of fate into a living nightmare.
The nursing home called to say Robert Carter had died, but when Michael returned from his business trip, he assumed it was my father who had passed. "Old Robert's finally gone," he smirked. "Should've moved him to the cheaper nursing home ages ago." Can you believe it? His own father—the man who'd left him an inheritance—and there he was, helping his medical intern mistress cover up malpractice, dismissing the death as "just some useless old man."
He has no idea he's protecting his father's killer. No clue I've seen through his cold-bloodedness all along.
I wonder, when the truth finally hits him, how will this absurd tragedy end?

Before the apocalypse in my previous life, my adopted sister blindly believed an online post claiming an extreme global freeze was coming. She forced me to spend everything on raw meat and heavy winter gear. When the "Extreme Heat" apocalypse actually arrived, all her supplies rotted into putrid waste. To vent her frustration, she locked me in a cage and left me to be baked alive in the scorching heat.
Reborn, I smiled and helped her hoard ten tons of raw meat and heavy leather jackets, watching as she dreamed of becoming the Queen of the Wasteland...

I used to believe the most beautiful sound in the world was a baby's first cry.

Until I watched my three children die, one by one, at the hands of a woman with the sweetest smile.

Her name was Isabella, my husband's cousin. She would tenderly offer tissues after my miscarriages, frantically call for help when I fell down the stairs, thoughtfully make soup to comfort me after I lost each child.

She was such a talented actress. So convincing that even my mafia don husband said, "Isabella is more suited to be the lady of this house than you are."

But they didn't know—

A docile sheep, once it learns the wolf's rules, becomes far more dangerous than any real wolf.

When Dominick smashed Antonio's skull with the holy chalice, when Isabella screamed through her miscarriage in the basement, when blood splattered across the Virgin Mary's face...

Every July, my husband left for a business trip to France—so for seven full years of marriage, we never once got to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
This time, I flew all the way to France to surprise him, and mid-flight, I stumbled across a social media post.
My dream girl finally agreed to be with me. How do I make the frumpy, worn-out wife back home file for divorce on her own?
The OP poured out his grievances in the comment section:
When my dream girl suddenly moved abroad, I married her former best friend to keep me company through the hard times, just so I wouldn’t lose touch with her completely.
Now she’s finally said yes to being with me, and I’ve made enough to give her the lavish, privileged life she deserves.
I want my wife to find out about my affair herself so I can get a clean divorce without a fight, but she’s so painfully oblivious. I’ve come home reeking of my dream girl’s perfume on purpose, and every single July I fly here to France for our private time together, watching the lavender bloom in Provence with her. She never noticed a thing.
Perfume. July. France.
Those matching details made my fingers go numb. A deafening buzz exploded in my skull. A bone-deep chill washed over me, and I prayed with everything I had that it was all just a terrible coincidence.
Until I read the final line.
Just got a spending alert from her supplementary credit card—she bought a flight to France. I’m heading to pick up my dream girl now, might as well keep an eye out for her, just in case.
The plane touched down. When I stepped into the arrivals hall, I lifted my head almost instinctively.
There stood Shen Sinian, the man I hadn’t seen in two weeks, in a crisp, tailored suit, a bouquet of roses in his hand, locked in a passionate kiss with a woman with a stunning, willowy figure, her back to me.
He opened his eyes by chance, and through the crowd of travelers, his gaze locked directly with mine.

My son was killed in a horrific car bomb assassination.

At his rain-drenched funeral, my husband, Enzo—a Mafia Don—held an umbrella over my head, only to suddenly state with icy indifference:

"Gianna is pregnant. It's my blood."

Gianna. The illegitimate daughter of the Lucchese family boss.

I stiffened, looking up in sheer disbelief.

"What the hell does that mean?"

He cast a careless glance at me, completely unbothered.

"To end the war between the Corsican and Lucchese families, I've been with her in secret for a while now. Now that she carries the Corsican bloodline, I must give her a proper title. She will be moving into the estate tonight. You will not only accept this, but you will also give her the respect she deserves as the mother of my child."

In my past life, the night before the National Cheerleading Championship finals, my "best friend" Lily, the scholarship student I'd been sponsoring, handed me a brownie she claimed she'd "baked herself."

She knew I had a deadly peanut allergy. Yet she'd loaded it with concentrated peanut butter.

When I collapsed on the locker room floor, hives erupting across my skin, my throat swelling shut until I couldn't make a sound, Lily just covered her mouth and nestled into my boyfriend Liam's arms, whimpering: "I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm such an idiot. I mixed up the peanut butter with chocolate... you won't blame me, right?"

Of course I blamed you.

The quarterback I'd loved for three years didn't call 911. Instead, he frowned down at me convulsing on the ground.

"Chloe, stop faking, okay?" Liam's voice dripped with annoyance. "Lily already apologized. Why do you have to put on this dramatic show to scare her? You're always so controlling."

Controlling?

My airway was closing. My lungs were on fire. I was dying, and I couldn't force out a single word to tell him.

They didn’t call an ambulance until I stopped moving, but by the time it got there, it was too late. I was already dead.

When the police questioned him, Liam gave false testimony to protect Lily. He claimed I was afraid of losing the competition, so I tried to use an allergic reaction to avoid competing, but accidentally ingested too much of the allergen and died.

The man who said he loved me let me die with the reputation of a coward.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that day.

The dealership called to inform me that my Rolls-Royce Starlight Headliner had been replaced with a pink one and was ready for pickup.
I was bewildered. I hadn't driven that car in ages—why would anyone change the headliner without my knowledge?
I confronted my husband, who managed our garage, demanding an explanation.
"Honey, maybe they got their wires crossed. I'll swing by the dealership later and sort it out."
I wasn't about to waste my breath. Instead, I called my friend directly—she happened to own the dealership.
"William's having an affair. I'm going to catch him red-handed."

I waited seven years for Lucas.
The moment our Mate Bond was finally sealed, our wedding night left me so exhausted I couldn’t even move and then my phone lit up with photos of him having sex in a car with Isabella, the widow of his dead brother.

Everyone told me not to overthink it. Our relatives brushed it off. Even the Elders stepped in to smooth things over for him.
But behind closed doors, Lucas showed his real face—Restore the Mate Bond or he would destroy my family’s company.

When I fought back, he slapped me so hard it shattered the twenty years of relationship between us. He froze my accounts, and my mother was rushed to the hospital because of sheer stress.
That still wasn’t enough. He demanded that I apologize publicly at a business gala, to the woman wearing his brother’s wedding gift. He even ripped away the moonstone necklace my mother left me.

I was shoved into a champagne tower, blood all over me. And he never looked at me once. All his tenderness was reserved for his sister-in-law.
Just when I’d finally gone numb, top-tier Alpha Finn walked in with a one-billion-dollar contract. “Your designs are worth this much. And I don’t like people touching what I’ve set my eyes on.”

Seven years of devotion wasted on a lie. This time, I’m tearing the fake Mate Bond to shreds and I’ll make every traitor pay!