119 Book(s) Related to Paper Widow

In Nocturne Haven, widowhood is not a status.
It is a sentence.
The moment a husband dies, the bells toll and the Collectors come.
By law, a widow ceases to be human.
She becomes property….branded, displayed, sold before the next sunrise.
Samantha Vail never believed the old stories.
Until her husband’s blood soaked her wedding gown and the city condemned her in a single midnight chime.
Now she stands on the block in the House of Ashes and the sanctuary, the last lot of the Night of Claiming, and the highest bid belongs to Kane Draven: the man every shadow fears.
He didn’t come for a widow.
He came for a debt.
Yet one look at the woman who refuses to lower her eyes,and something long dead inside him stirs.
He claims her for vengeance.
He keeps her for desire.
He will lose her to the only law stronger than his own:
in Nocturne Haven, loving what you bought is punishable by death.
A dark, intoxicating romance about possession, power, and the one curse no one saw coming…..the moment a monster falls in love with the only thing he was never meant to touch.

Five years after fleeing Manhattan, Evelyn Valentine has survived things that would break most people — and become something that would frighten them. Now her husband is dead, and his funeral has drawn her back to the city she once escaped, back into a life she thought she had sealed shut behind her.

But the past refuses to stay buried.

Adrian Winthrop — her late husband's son, the man whose forbidden devotion once drove her out of the only home she had known — has come back. Every stolen glance between stepmother and stepson is a betrayal. Every moment of proximity crosses a line that could unravel them both. He offers her something she has no right to want: a future built on more than grief and silence.

At the funeral, she encounters Julian Russell — mercenary king and beautiful predator — who sees straight through her widow's composure to everything she has spent years trying to hide. He doesn't want to save her. He wants to own her, and he has never once failed to take what he decides is his.

Torn between the forbidden love she was never supposed to feel and the dangerous obsession closing in around her, Evelyn must choose: grieve the life she lost and disappear, or risk the one thing she never learned to protect — her own heart.

Will she find a way to want something worth living for, or will the past finally collect what it is owed?

It would be beyond shameful… I slept with my sister's fiancé on the very day my husband died.
"Tell me, princess." Matt shoves my panties aside, sliding a finger inside, and I gasp. "How long you've been wishing for my dick?"
"Just get this over with. I need to get out of here," I say flatly.
In an instant, he bends me over, forcing my back to arch. He shoves my panties aside roughly, like my words have fueled his rage.
His hand wraps around my neck, squeezing firmly as he slams into me without warning.
"God—!" A loud gasp tears through the room, and I try to fight it but it is too late.
Pain and pleasure explode hot between my legs.
I hate how my walls clench around him—like they want more.
"Greedy cunt." He smacks my ass hard. "Look how it swallows my dick."
He pulls back, then drives into me once more, the wet slap of his hips against my ass echoing through the room.
"I can tell from the way your pussy swallows my dick… so hungry for more."
I shake my head, teeth gritting. "Go to hell—"
"Hmmm." He pauses for just a second before ramming into me again, his rhythm increasing. "I wish I could go to hell, princess… but as it stands, I'm going nowhere but inside this pussy."
"Now tell me how this dick feels inside you," he murmurs.
"Doesn't feel good," I lie, knowing it will rile him up.
But this time, the bait doesn't work.
Matt just laughs.
He slaps my ass twice in quick succession, each smack loud enough to make my eyes water.
Then he starts driving into me faster—brutal, punishing strokes that make my thighs tremble and my knees buckle.
"Beg for it… your sister Daisy begs for it every time I fuck her."
Jealousy fills my chest instantly. "Well, too bad I'm not Daisy. I'm Ashley," I bite back.
"Oh, I know exactly who you are," he says coldly. "Daisy's replacement. Nothing else."
"Just shut up and fuck me." I grit out, rage and jealousy rising in my chest.


At twenty-one, Ashley Knowles is forced into an arranged lavender marriage with the most feared biker president in California.
Twenty-four hours later, she's a widow.
Thrust into the ruthless world of the Sons of Chaos Motorcycle Club, Ashley inherits an empire of oil rigs, ranches, illegal dealings, and blood-soaked power she never wanted. But the club brothers don't bow to outsiders—especially not a girl who knows nothing about their world.
Three dangerous men circle her like wolves:
Matt —her dead sister's fiancé blames Ashley for the death of his fiancée and wants brutal personal revenge. He'll break her body to heal his grief.
Bran —her scarred brother-in-law craves slow, psychological payback for the high-school sin that scarred him forever and ruined his life. He'll take her body piece by piece until there's nothing left.
Ripper —the Vice President, protects her with fierce loyalty no one understands… but his devotion comes with secrets that could destroy them all.
Caught between these three men, Ashley must find a way to protect herself, because the Sons of Chaos don't share.

On a rainy night outside Lumina City Hall, Chloe is abandoned by her fiancé of five years. Her grandfather is dying, her ten-year-old brother Noah may be taken by CPS, and a vicious inheritance battle is closing in. With no time to fall apart, she turns to Arthur, a stranger who has also just been left at the altar, and asks the impossible: “Will you marry me?”

One contract, one-dollar penalty, and one fake marriage later, Chloe only wants to protect Noah, fool the caseworker, and give her grandfather peace. But Arthur is not the broke freelance writer he claims to be. His expensive clothes, secret calls, and unsettling control hint at a far deeper secret.

He makes promises at her grandfather’s ICU bedside, plays the perfect husband during the CPS visit, and slowly earns Noah’s wary trust. Chloe knows this is supposed to be a deal—so why does his kindness feel dangerously real?

They survive the first home visit, only to learn CPS will return unannounced within thirty days. Arthur has to stay.

But as his true identity begins to surface, can their one-dollar marriage remain just a transaction?

Every time my husband wants to make me give in, he slaps divorce papers on the table. Every time my parents want me to cave, they threaten to disown me.

What they want is simple: give everything to my twin sister.

I used to fight back. I cried. I demanded to know why it always had to be me.

But when the doctor slides the test results across his desk and tells me in that pitying voice, "Stage four brain cancer. You have a month, maybe less," something in me just... stops caring.

I'm dying anyway. They can do whatever the hell they want.

Love is not part of why Kane Beaumont marries Emilia Taylor.
It was purely a contract deal to him and nothing more. Saving her family's business from the claws of evil loan sharks is Emilia's motive for marrying a man she barely knew.
However, she doesn't count on being hopelessly attracted to him even when he treats her like a worthless peasant.
Their relationship is chaotic, thanks to Kane's lover who is determined to ruin any opportunity of their romance ever blooming.
Even if it means putting Emilia's life in danger, setting her up, and turning the world against her.
When sparks begin to fly between Kane and Emilia after an unfortunate accident, their relationship goes through a tough test that destroys the tiny flames of love burning between them.
Will love eventually find a way in the end or will this marriage continue to be a high-stakes business deal with dangerous rewards?

In the year 1900 things are fast changing; a new century equals a new beginning. Especially for the young Anne Spenbourne and her younger sister Wilma. But things become too heavy to bare for the 17 year old when her father passes and her evil Aunt Bertha gets everything in the will.

Anne is forced to live under Bertha's wing, answering to her at all times. When Anne's head is turned by the young dashing Sheldon, she must face some difficult life decisions of lust and success. But will her head be turned by somebody more suitable? Witness Anne, Wilma and Anne's best friend Mildred on their wild early 20th century adventures of romance, drama, tragedy and sorrow in a tale of widows and maidens. With tragedy and disgrace around every corner, will Anne get the fullfilling life that she deserves?

On the night of Reeve’s birthday, I drove to his family’s coastal estate with a premium ribeye and a bottle of Pinot Noir, ready to give him a romantic surprise.
But the rug was shifted three inches, and a single drop of dark blood hid in the floorboards. Before I could run, a gun barrel pressed against the back of my head.
The man was impeccably dressed and terrifyingly calm. Upstairs in my bathtub lay the corpse of his pregnant wife.
He ordered me to help him dispose of the body and cover up the crime. My only thought was to stall until my husband got home.
That is, until he spoke—and revealed the root of this massacre. Everything was my husband's fault.

After we divorced, I went to a psychiatrist when I felt that I needed to be fixed. The doctor said it was called Stockholm Syndrome, the violence that had bound me for the past three years had to end immediately, but my ex-husband Andrew always chased me everywhere.

For three years, Mara Ellis raised twins for a dead man.

Then the comments appeared in the air.

They said Caleb Ward was alive.

They said he was about to marry another woman.

They said Mara was only the abandoned side character who would show up too late.

Mara folded one more tiny shirt, looked at her sleeping children, and decided the story had never met a mother with overdue bills.

On a stormy night, an intruder broke into the estate and slashed my husband's throat.
I didn't call the police. Instead, I grabbed the bleach and scrubbed away every trace the killer left behind.
The next morning, my mother-in-law dug her nails into my arm. "Tell them! Who murdered my son?!"
"Lady Cordelia, if you saw anything, now is the time to speak." The police captain stepped closer, his voice hard.
I met his gaze without blinking. "The thunder was loud last night. I took my sleeping pills and heard absolutely nothing."

"Give Lydia half your beast core blood—you owe our clan that much!"

Facing the man who wore my brother-in-law Arthur's face but carried my dead husband Carlisle's distinct scent, I didn't fight back. I let him drive the blade into my chest.

Three years married, and Carlisle died in the border beast surge. I'd tried to follow him in death so many times that grief had nearly bled me dry—only to catch him alive, faking his death so he could marry his precious sister-in-law under his brother's name.

To keep his cover, he stood by while his new woman degraded me, even forced me to sign a slave contract that stripped me of all dignity.

He thought I loved him too much to ever leave.

Until I drained every drop of blood that carried his mate bond and disappeared.

That's when this arrogant bastard finally lost it completely.

Beautiful, kind and loyal.
Who would have thought this would happen to her?
When Piper steps in to help a friend, she would never expect she would land in serious trouble. Abused, broken and used as a pawn in a conspiracy to bring down her best friend’s husband’s company, her life takes on a sudden somersault.
Will she ever walk out of this living hell or will she be drawn in by the temptation of the evil within?

Ever since Her Majesty the Queen fell gravely ill, the entire dragon realm had been teetering on the brink of collapse.
In that precarious moment, it was I who held the throne together, heartbroken yet unyielding.
I depleted my magic without reservation to repair the realm's protective barriers, working through endless nights to brew life-sustaining elixirs for the Queen.
Yet when the Dragon Legion finally drove back the abyssal demons, what awaited me wasn't victory—it was a fatal blade.
My magic was shredded apart. The soul core in my chest was ripped out by a pair of familiar hands.
In my final moments, I saw the face of the one holding the knife.
My newly wedded husband, Drystan.
And beside him, pulled tight against his chest, was my half-sister Vespera.
"You're brilliant, Vespera." Drystan turned the faintly glowing core over in his palm. "A single forged love letter, and this fool willingly died defending our dying realm. Now even her core is mine."
Vespera nestled against him, emerald eyes glittering with greed. "Once you absorb this power, we'll return to the throne together. You'll still be the Empire's Crown Prince, and I'll wear the Crown Princess's coronet. As is only right."
Amid this sickening pledge of betrayal, I drew my last breath.
When I opened my eyes again, cold gray stone vaulting stared back at me.
I had returned to the day news of Drystan's death in battle reached the capital.
One glance toward the corner of the great hall told me everything.
That man stood there wearing a cold iron mask, posing as my dear sister Vespera's sworn personal knight.
You want to drain me dry? Steal my soul core?
Dream on.

They pulled my husband Beckett’s car out of the Avery River at four in the morning.
I was sitting in the reception area of the Ardenvale police station, having waited all night. Everyone thought I was just the pathetic wife—the one who had been humiliated at her mother-in-law’s birthday banquet, went home early, and panicked when her husband never returned.
No one knew that from the moment I dialed 911, this was exactly the news I had been waiting for.
He was dead. And I was the one who made it happen.

After a hot weekend with a mysterious woman, Damien Chan did not expect to get a frightened phone call from her, begging him to save-what? who? The call is cut before she says it. The next thing he knows, he's become obsessed with finding her and saving her from the man that had led to their first meeting. But he never expected to find her in his cousin Dale Carson's house... as his wife! She finds out her nightmares are actually memories of her past life... the life of a murderer. Could she truly be the deranged Ellsa Jabari who'd almost added her own sister Ellie to the list of people she's killed? Amnesia can be a real bitch!

Twins Ellsa and Ellie are completely different in character, personality, taste and interests. Apart from the striking resemblance to each other, they share the one thing siblings shouldn’t. The same taste in men.
Carson is interested in only one of them. He is pulled by Ellie’s passion for love and art, and most importantly, him. What starts as a sexual chase, ends with his permanent retirement from bachelorhood.
But their love story is not a smooth one.
Ellie is implicated in the brutal murders of her ex-boyfriends, and Carson is faced with the horror of arresting the love of his life.

Ethan Ashworth had nothing — no money, no family, no future. Just a rundown room, a handsome face that brought him nothing but pain, and the daily beatings from rich bullies who saw him as trash.

Then came the brutal ambush behind the school building. Left bleeding and alone as the weekend began, Ethan finally gave up on life.

That was when the voice spoke.

[Bloodline Legacy Contract activated.]

Suddenly, the frail orphan from the slums was thrust into another world — a realm of magic, kings, and monsters. With a mysterious system at his side and a sword in his hand, Ethan must complete deadly missions to grow stronger.

Because back home, the rich still rule… and he has a score to settle.

The day Elodie was diagnosed with late-stage cancer, she received intimate photos of her husband and his mistress.

Five years of marriage, and she had been nothing more than a presentable servant — her mother-in-law barked orders at will, her husband saved every tender moment for someone else, and even the money to treat her illness had to pass through layers of approval.

Finally, she slid the divorce papers across the table to him, picked up her luggage, and moved into a rented room. In her pocket: the cheapest painkillers she could find. On the bill: Initial Treatment Cost — $100,000.

No one knew she was sick. And no one remembered that this so-called "useless young madam" had once been a legendary prodigy at law school.

A light buried under dust for too long.

It was time to dig it back out.

She’s a widow by day, a wild biker by night. Two ruthless men want her. Only one will own her in the end.

Carlotta Russo survived her marriage to the cruel Alpha Dante—now, at just eighteen, she’s a widow with scars and secrets. By daylight, she keeps her head down, playing the good girl everyone wants to break. But after dark, she becomes a legend on the city’s underground racetrack—leather-clad, fearless, riding her bike like she’s running from hell itself.

And hell is coming for her—twice.

Gabriel, the school’s dangerous king, wants her on her knees, desperate for his touch.
Paxton, the cocky, blue-eyed street racer, wants her screaming his name, begging for more.

They don’t just want her. They want to own her.

Tonight, the rules are simple—first to catch her, first to claim her. The loser walks away.
The winner gets Carlotta in his bed. All night. No limits.

“You want a taste, Gabriel?” Paxton smirks, eyes dark with hunger. “Beat me on the track. Winner takes her home.”
Gabriel’s grin is pure sin. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you forget you ever belonged to another man.”

Carlotta’s heart races almost as fast as her bike. She should run. She should fight. But every wicked promise, every hungry glance, makes her body ache for more.

In the dark, between burning engines and hotter hands, she’s the prize in a game that will break every rule—and maybe her.

Widow. Biker. Bad girl in the making.
Tonight, Carlotta will be claimed.
But when the sun comes up, who will she be calling Daddy?
18+ ONLY. BDSM, EROTIC, AND RAW HOT SCENES INSIDE.
Read this book if you want to cum hard and beg for more.

"Come see our wedding invitations!" I excitedly held up the document folder I'd grabbed from ,my fiancé, Lorenzo's study, showing it off to his men in his private safe house on the Upper East Side.

Lorenzo and I had been running ourselves ragged this month preparing for the wedding.

Lorenzo's guys raised their glasses, waiting to see our custom-designed invitations. I eagerly turned the folder upside down—

Marriage certificates, wedding photos, and a property transfer document came tumbling out onto the floor.

Dead silence.

"Oh, these aren't our invitations..." I was still grinning foolishly. "Must be the wrong folder."

"Let me see which lucky lady is about to become a happy bride."

I looked down at the wedding photo. A beautiful brunette woman in an elaborate white gown smiled from the center of the picture, looking so blissful, so content.

When my eyes shifted to the groom beside her, my world collapsed.

It was Lorenzo. He wore a perfect black tuxedo, but he was tenderly embracing a woman I'd never seen before.

On the anniversary of my mother's death, Thomas promised he'd come pay his respects with me. I waited at the cemetery all day, only to see media reports of him vacationing with his first love.

Everyone assumed Thomas had a secret child with her. That they were about to get married.

And me? His actual wife?

I went home, left the divorce papers on the table, and burned our marriage certificate.

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

"You good-for-nothing should get out and save your food rations. I'll use your truckload of supplies for you!"

The man-eating scarlet spores swept through the town. My good brother locked the security door tightly and locked me in the corridor filled with blood mist.

He stared intently at me through the peephole, waiting to see the horrific sight of my internal organs being drained by the fungus.

But a second before I was devoured by the spores, I hid in my personal space and with a single thought drained the last drop of water and every grain of rice from the room.

Three days later, in this impregnable "vacuum tomb".

When he was so thirsty that he swallowed blood, and knelt on the ground desperately pounding on the door.

I kicked the door open, tied him up with nylon rope, and hung him upside down in the blood-red storm outside the window.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

I came home early from a business trip and overheard the woman Joseph always called his “poor stepmother” clinging to him in his office, begging for a kiss. Her swollen belly carried his child.
“When do I get to stop pretending to be your stepmother?” Susan whined.
Joseph’s cold laugh stripped away the last of my dignity. “Soon. Once I drain Emma’s company dry, she’ll be useless.”
I used to think Joseph was my salvation.
After his father died and his pregnant stepmother had nowhere to go, I ignored my family’s objections and brought them both into my home. I poured every resource I had into helping him rise.
I even became pregnant with his child.
Only then did I realize I had never really been his wife.
I was only the stepping stone they used to climb into wealth.
That night, Susan staged a miscarriage.
And Joseph, his face twisted with rage, locked me—pregnant and bleeding—inside a freezing basement.
“A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve a child.”

Do all men lose interest in their wives after marriage?

We’ve been married for five years, and he never touched me.

At first he said he wasn’t well, so I was understanding. Later he recovered, but still kept me far away.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my sister came in for a check-up, clearly pregnant with his child.

The truth hit me hard: he wasn’t incapable. He was just incapable with me.

I drew up the divorce papers, ready to end this empty marriage.

On the reason for divorce, I wrote with my own hand:

“Male sexual dysfunction; no marital relations in five years.”

He only smiled coldly when he saw it.

A week later, in the urology clinic.

I put on my medical gloves, looked at him, and said calmly:

“Sir, will you undress yourself, or shall I help you?”

His disapproval didn’t take away my confidence.

I still embraced better things in my career and love life!

But his life started to be filled with one accident after another.

Stanley Robbins was a single hot daddy. His wife left them when their daughter, Heather, was still a baby. They had never heard of her ever since. Leaving the responsibility of raising young Heather in the care of a first-time dad. Stanley had worked hard to give his daughter a bright future while establishing a reputable image in the city of Newark as its top businessman.

Maxine Ballard was a simple girl living her simple life. She was living away from her family. She wanted to be independent. She hated complications. She wanted everything to be simple and smooth flowing. Until one day, a billionaire hired her as his daughter's mommy.

How long can they pretend that Maxine was Heather's mommy? What if true love blossoms between the real daddy and the hired mommy? Can they escape what destiny had planned for them?

Madison Lopez is a simple girl living a simple life. She needed money for her mother's hospital bills. Her father died when she was still a child, and she has become the family's breadwinner ever since. She had no other choice but to work as a maid in the city to earn a lot.

Dylan Carter is one of the hottest bachelors in town. He was the only son of the CEOs of the Carter Empire. He has everything he wants in life - money, fame, and love. He has been in a relationship with his girlfriend for quite a long time. But why does he feel something is still missing in his life?

What would happen when the pure, innocent maid crossed paths with the hot billionaire? Will love blossom between the two? Will Dylan find the happiness he has been looking for in Madison? Read to find out.

"Don't call her a bitch, asshole," Sierra hissed.
"What's it got to do with you?" the greasy creep demanded.
"Oh, I don't know, Stimpy, maybe because you're harassing my woman and she just got here."
"Oh, shit, Orion. Sorry, man. Didn't realize she was with you."
Orion: As the heir apparent to the Primal Howlers' MC President patch, a chance encounter with a beautiful woman pulls me into a war I wasn't expecting that could bring the whole club down. But when she runs from me, I will pursue her to the end of the earth to find her and bring her back.
Whether she likes it or not.
Raquel: I moved to Monument, Colorado to write my thesis and get some much-needed distance from my overbearing family. What I didn't expect was to find myself hung up on a biker who appears to have nothing to lose.
I, however, have everything to lose and I'm worried Orion just might be my downfall.

Road to Joy
Join the members of the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club as they prepare for their Christmas Celebration. Revisit your favorite characters during the most festive holiday of the year.
Unwrapped
Christmas is approaching for the Dogs of Fire and Burning Saints Motorcycle Clubs, but rather than the usual holiday cheer, the air is filled with the tension of a brewing civil war.
The Gresham Spiders, a local 1% MC, is hellbent on expansion and both clubs lie directly in their path. Will assistance from an outside ally help diffuse the situation long enough to keep the peace during the holiday season?
Join Hatch and Minus, along with these two beloved MCs, as they celebrate the holidays and try to keep their clubs from splintering under the pressure.
Rocky Mountain Christmas
Mouse
There's only one gift I want this Christmas, but the closer I get to Kennedy, the more she pushes me away. I'll do whatever it takes to get onto her nice list, even if it means riding my bike all the way to the North Pole and strong-arming Santa myself.
Kennedy
I have two choices. Open myself up to a man who has the power to shatter me. Or run and protect my heart once and for all. The problem is, a murderous Douglas Fir gets in the way of my perfectly planned escape.
Is it a sign, or merely a roadblock on the path to finding true love?
And does a scrooge like me, even deserve to find herself under the mistletoe this Christmas?

Everyone thinks I'm the wild child of the family, the one who won't fall in line.

Blake's the young king of the business world—rational, cold, always in those perfectly cut suits.

But every night, he's got me pinned underneath him, breathing my name.

He said I was his, but never let me see daylight. Until she came back—my father's mistress's daughter, in her white dress, smiling like an angel.

On my birthday, he went to pick her up from the airport. When the chandelier crashed down, he carried her to the hospital and left me bleeding on the floor. When she smashed my mother's heirloom, he made me apologize on my knees. He said she was fragile, needed care; said I was strong enough to understand.

Then I heard them on my bed, her moaning his name.

So I left. Married a man who truly loved me. And he went insane.

He kidnapped me, forced a wedding, announced to the world I was his wife.

But this time, I just smiled and shook my head.

"Let go. It's too late."

I used to be the Blackwells' best killer. For him, I walked away from that life and became his wife. I even gave him a daughter.

I thought it was redemption. Turns out, it was the start of something worse.

Three years ago, during that shootout at the docks, his first love showed up with his bastard son. When the rival family put guns to both kids' heads, he didn't hesitate. He chose to save her son.

My daughter burned in the explosion.

That was the day the man I loved for ten years died. What's left is just my sworn enemy.

At the Met Gala, I heard my husband tell his friends in French that I'm "boring." That his 22-year-old girlfriend is "so much more exciting in bed."

He laughed when they asked if I knew. "Elle ne comprend même pas 'bonjour'." (She doesn't even understand 'bonjour'.)

What Marcus doesn't know: I spent two years at the Sorbonne.

Je comprends tout, Marcus. I understand everything.

The diamond necklace he gave me after my miscarriage suddenly feels too tight. I smile at him across the champagne and candlelight.

He has no idea what's coming.

Everyone says he loved me more than anything. So I chose to answer that love with death.

Forbes cover stories, tearful speeches at charity galas, shutting down Fifth Avenue every Valentine's Day just to watch fireworks with me. They said he ruled a business empire but would kneel in front of the entire world and call me his reason to live.

I used to believe it.

Until I discovered my perfect husband had built another home with another woman. A warm one, filled with laughter and his child.

So I chose to disappear the night the storm swallowed everything.

They say he spent three days on his knees at the cliff's edge, screaming my name into the black ocean. The man worth billions couldn't even find his wife's body.

When the rescue team recovered that burned-out car, he finally opened the safe I'd left for him. Inside was a positive pregnancy test and a divorce agreement that would never be signed.

By then, nothing mattered anymore.

At the bar, I watched Ethan get publicly dumped and made a crazy proposal fueled by liquid courage—a three-month fake dating contract.

I thought this was my only chance after twenty years of secret crushing. Until his ex showed me the text: "With Mia? Pretty convenient. She's been following me around since we were kids."

So I was just a tool.

The day we broke up, he shouted with red eyes: "I've been crazy about you for twenty years!" I thought he was acting, until his mom handed me a worn journal—

That careless comment I made at thirteen, "I'm never marrying Ethan," he'd remembered for twenty whole years.

Every page of that diary was filled with my name...

Three years after returning to the Duke's estate, I finally admit the truth: the phoenix I poured my heart into raising doesn't love me. He only spreads his brilliant tail feathers for the replacement.

I was six when traffickers took me, stuck in the slums for twenty years. A year after losing me, the Duke and Duchess adopted an infant from the church.

That girl became the new daughter, enjoying everything that should have been mine.

When they found me at twenty-six, my parents looked at me with guilt, yes, but mostly like I was a stranger. They loved the daughter they raised more.

I don't blame them.

Twenty years in the slums taught me: don't count on anyone's love. Only power and gold won't betray you.

So when he refused me for the third time, I went to the black market auction and bought a battered wolf slave.

The phoenix finally panicked, feathers flaring, voice shaking:

"Master, you promised you'd only keep one magical beast..."

Ethan and I grew up together. We were supposed to exchange rings at the altar, make our vows. But on our wedding day, he left me standing there to go save his so-called suicidal ex. Almost killed my parents from the shame.

Four years later, I'm back in Portland with my husband. The city isn't that big, and of course fate decides to throw him in my path again.

He has the nerve to ask me to be his mistress.

I hold up my left hand, the ring catching the light. "Are you blind?"

The day I get diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, I can finally stop selling plasma.

For five years, I thought I was paying for the fire that killed my parents and son, left my brother disabled. Selling plasma, joining drug trials, doing the worst jobs imaginable, all to pay back a debt that wasn't even real.

The doctor says I have a few weeks left. I clutch the diagnosis report and head home to tell them.

The moment I push open the door, I see my parents in the kitchen, the ones who supposedly died in the fire. My brother, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair, stands there raising a glass, laughing with my husband.

My brother shrugs like it's nothing. "The broken leg was fake the whole time. You were the only one hurt in the fire. We just wanted to teach you a lesson, make you appreciate things."

"We were going to tell you eventually." My husband pats my shoulder. "Go apologize to Vanessa. Stop giving her a hard time."

"All the money you gave us went to Vanessa," Dad says. "That's what you get for throwing your bio-daughter status in her face."

I touch the diagnosis in my pocket. Everything was a lie. The only truth is that I'm dying.

The first thing I do with my second chance is sell off my perfect fiancé for ten million dollars.

The first time around, I became someone else for Julian Whitmore.

He likes nude-toned dresses. Hates when I wear anything with color. He won't let me have more than one glass of champagne in public. Won't let me laugh too loud. Won't let me initiate anything in bed.

His voice is always so calm, like he's correcting a disobedient pet.

I spend three years turning myself into what he wants: docile, proper, flawless. Until depression drags me under. Until that night I lay in the bathtub and watched the water turn red.

When I die, he's still downstairs in his study, editing my speech for tomorrow's charity gala.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in the Winters' living room with that unsigned arrangement in front of me.

This time? Fuck perfect.

But when he lifts that veil at the wedding and realizes the bride isn't me, this man who's spent his whole life in control completely loses it.

It's supposed to be our last class trip before graduation. The bus loses control on a mountain road and goes over the edge.

I think we're all going to die.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in a classroom that looks like it's been rotting for decades.

A system alert blares through my skull:

【Welcome to Ravenwood High. Unnameable creatures roam the campus. Survive 7 days. Uncover the truth behind the campus Boss's death. Every player who dies adds $800,000 to the prize pool. Make it out, and the money is yours.】

Everyone loses it. Screaming, crying, total chaos. The first thing Brett does is shove me toward the door to check the hallway. Because of course he does. I'm the class punching bag. The girl nobody would miss.

Everyone assumes I'll be the first to die.

What nobody sees is the smile pulling at the corner of my mouth as I stand at that door, staring at whatever is writhing in the shadows of the hallway.

The night the team wins again, the roar inside the arena could raise the roof.

On the ice, the captain has his arm around the new cheer captain, spinning her under the lights. His skates cut clean lines across the ice. Teammates whistle and shout, someone yells "ask her out!", someone else films on their phone. Everyone waits for me to show up and make a scene. Cry, stumble onto the ice, drop to my knees and beg him to come back. Pathetic, like every time before.

But no one knows I'm in the back of the locker room right now, pressed against a cold metal locker.

The quiet backup player has his hand on the back of my neck, his voice barely steady. "You sure about this?"

I push up on my toes and kiss him first.

Three months ago, I was kidnapped. When Alexander rescued me, I woke up in a hospital bed with my clothes disheveled and bruises covering my body. What happened during those hours? I don't remember any of it.

A week ago, I found out I was pregnant. He held me as I shook and told me that it wasn't my fault. That he failed to protect me. Even if the baby wasn't his, he'd raise it. He'd still give me the perfect wedding.

But the guilt ate me alive until depression took hold.

Every night, sleep stays out of reach. Nightmares find me the moment I close my eyes. I've tried to end it. Three times now. Each time, someone found me just in time.

After the third failed attempt, I make tea and head toward his study to apologize. Voices drift through the door before I reach it.

"Are you out of your mind? Evelyn's your fiancée!" His friend sounds disbelieving. "You actually hired someone to kidnap her? Made her think she was assaulted? Just so Lily could take her place? Do you know how messed up that is? What that does to someone?"

Alexander's voice comes out calm. "Lily got sick because of me. Her dying wish is to marry me once before she goes. If I didn't push Evelyn out of the picture, her father would never let Lily take her place."

All those nights. All those nightmares. All those times I scrubbed my hands raw until they bled. It was all a lie. A setup.

For another woman.

I pull out my phone and call my father.

"Dad. I'll agree to the arrangement."

I'm two months pregnant with Tristan's baby when Brielle, the woman he'd do anything for, shoves me down the stairs.

She calls it an accident. I lose the baby.

I beg my husband to do something about it. Instead, he shields her and turns it around on me.

"Brielle saved my life in that fire. The whole Merrick family owes her. So drop it."

That debt. Always that debt.

Three years. No matter how many times Brielle humiliates me, degrades me, Tristan only ever has one answer: "I owe her my life."

But the truth about that fire? I'm the only one in the world who knows it.

I tried to tell him once. He laughed in my face. "Adeline, you're so desperate for attention you'd make up something like that?"

So I shut my mouth. Buried the truth. Buried whatever was left of my heart along with it.

The man I trusted with my life just handed my child to the woman who killed them, and called it loyalty.

I'm done.

I pull up the number I blocked three years ago and hit call.

"Dad. I'll take over the company. I'll go through with the engagement to Everett. But I have one condition. I want Tristan and Brielle ruined beyond recovery. Nothing and no one left."

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

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

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

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

The third time, he nearly bled out.

Every time after that, the same thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being born a Moretti daughter means one thing: the family owns you.

In my past life, Vivian thought she had what it took. She promised Dad she could handle it, swore up and down she'd make him proud. Six months later, she'd burned through three generations of work and left us with nothing but an empty shell. Our enemies found her eventually. Broke both her legs.

And me? I married Marco Rossi.

Everyone envied me for marrying into one of the most powerful families in the city. What they didn't know was that I was his prisoner. He used me, turned my family's connections into stepping stones for himself, spent my money on his mistresses, used my body as a bargaining chip at his deals.

In the end, Vivian killed me. Jealous of my "perfect life," she dragged herself over on those broken legs and put a bullet in me.

When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in Dad's study.

The door slams open. Vivian bursts in, cutting me off before I can speak. "Dad! I'm marrying Marco Rossi! Give the family to Sienna!"

I look at her and smile.

This time, I'm going to survive. And I'm going to do a hell of a lot better than just survive.

In my past life, we were camping in the wilderness area of a state park when my best friend handed out "lucky charms" to the whole group. Charms she'd secretly packed full of wildlife attractant.

A wild boar knocked me to the ground outside the cabin door. Its tusks tore into my stomach. I pounded on the wood with both fists, screaming. "Help! Open the door!"

Inside were my boyfriend of two years and the best friend I'd been quietly supporting for just as long. Autumn Warren.

"I'm so sorry, Brynn." Autumn's voice broke into sobs, but her weight stayed pressed hard against the door. "There are boars everywhere. We open that door, we're all dead."

"Just hold on! I'm calling 911!" Wyatt Fletcher's voice rang out with the kind of conviction that cost him absolutely nothing.

I paid for that trip. I'd fallen behind because I'd stopped to pull Autumn along.

And they stood on the other side of that door, my blood soaking into the dirt, and locked me out.

I open my eyes. I'm back. It's the day we left.

I spent seven years being Preston Maddox's personal errand girl.

Did his homework, took his father's belt for him, cut off every friend I had because he said he didn't like me talking to other guys.

I told myself that if I was good enough, patient enough, he'd eventually see me.

Then came the school's centennial gala. In front of everyone, he locked me, a girl with severe aquaphobia, inside a water tank filled to the brim with ice-cold water, so Vanessa Sinclair could have a pretty backdrop for her ballet number.

The audience roared. He watched Vanessa take her bow with this soft, adoring smile on his face. The only time he glanced at me was when he noticed I'd made a mess, and all he did was wrinkle his nose.

The water rose over my head, and something in me finally understood.

To Preston Maddox, I wasn't even worth as much as a dog.

If a dog was drowning, its owner would at least care.

Me? I just disgusted him.