103 Book(s) Related to achebe novel yeats poem

She’s fire wrapped in silk. He’s ice laced with fangs. And when they collide, the world burns.

In the velvet shadows of Vancouver’s most dangerous secrets, RedLine — an underground club pulsing with magic, blood, and desire — is where vampires come to indulge. But when Katalim, a woman cloaked in mystery, steps into this world, everything changes.

Locked away for years, she’s finally free — but not safe. Katalim isn’t just a witch — she’s a weapon. Her power? The ability to channel raw sexual energy, bending it to her will. It’s intoxicating, addictive… and feared.

Enter Ryder Cornwall — cold, untouchable, and loyal only to the Coven. He’s assigned to protect her. But from the moment he tastes her magic, he wants more. Her scent drives him mad. Her secrets haunt him. And her body? It might just ruin him.

As their chemistry erupts into obsession, enemies close in. Katalim’s past is darker than anyone imagined. And Ryder must decide — break every rule for her, or watch her be claimed by a monster from the shadows.

Twisted Fate is paranormal erotica at its most wicked—dripping with forbidden heat, dangerous magic, and a love so intense it might destroy them both. It is perfect for readers who like their vampires dominant, their witches dangerous, and their romances deliciously dirty.

I was raised with the criminal underground’s most notorious crew turned government-sanctioned mercenaries in Texas and Colorado, known as the Death Kings. My uncle is one of them known as the Gator King. Now I walk in his footsteps, leading a crew of my own with his backing. To my family, my nickname is Seraphim, but in my kingdom, I’m the Viper King. Now the boys who left me, who swore they would stay by my side to protect me, are back in town. They are attempting to become like C.H.A.O.S. who run Palomino Bay, Texas. That will not happen because Grêle, Louisiana, is my stronghold. I have the backing of my father's MC and together along with my Serpents the city is ours. The person they need to protect is themselves because it isn’t me.
…They don’t know my secret, but I know theirs…

Amelia Russo is a weapon of the state. As a military captain and the daughter of a legendary general, her life is governed by duty, honor, and one mission: eliminate "The Shadow," the faceless myth ruling Verona’s bloody underworld.

Lorenzo Ren Moretti is a master of deception. To high society, he is Luca D'Angelo, a charming billionaire CEO. To the streets, he is a cold-blooded monster with icy blue eyes and a past carved in tattoos. He commands fear. He demands absolute loyalty. And he has never met an enemy he couldn't break.

Until he meets her.

When Amelia crosses paths with the enigmatic billionaire Luca, an intoxicating, forbidden game of cat and mouse begins.

"You're going to meet your mate someday." I whispered.
"Olivia."
I forced a smile and lifted my head. "And it's fine. I'll be rooting for you all the way."
He cut me off with a soft "Liv."
I blinked away my tears. "No, listen to me. We need to accept that this won't last forever. You could find her on your next trip out of town, and I'll be forgotten."
I swallowed the lump formed in my throat. "I just hope we'll still be friends."
His face twisted in pain as he rested his forehead against mine, his hands trembling as he cupped my cheeks. "You'll always be my best friend."
"And you'll always be mine."
I pressed my lips against his, needing to taste him, to feel his lips on mine, to know that at this moment, he was mine.
Olivia Martins has always been an outcast in the Nightshade pack.
She's an omega, and the pack she grew up in never failed to remind her that she'd never be one of them.
It wasn't so bad growing up—she had her best friend by her side.
Caspian Storm, son of the alpha of the Nightshade pack, befriended her when they were both little, and they've been inseparable ever since.
Their friendship started out sweet and innocent, but it developed into more.
Olivia knew that it couldn't last forever because Caspian would find his mate—and what they had would come to an end.
Yet, she couldn't guard her heart.
And when her worst fear comes true, she flees.
Will Olivia and Caspian find their way back to each other?
Or will the threat of Caspian finding his mate keep them apart?

“Claudia,” a die-hard fan of the novel Solo Hunter,
is reborn into a powerless and fragile body… even weaker than F-rank!

But wait! He, who was supposed to be a side character doomed to die,
somehow survives thanks to “Alan Miller,”
the gorgeous male lead whose actions are nothing like what the novel described.

To make matters more confusing,
Claudia turns out to be the long-missing heir of the prestigious Heart Family,
gone without a trace for 8 years!
Is this really the same story he once read?

Now that the original plot no longer applies,
how will he survive in this perilous world?
And what exactly… does the novel’s mysterious male lead want from Claudia?!

He left without breathing a word of it to you, and you still believe he's gonna come back? How sure are you?"

I didn't speak, cause I'm not sure..

"What if he doesn't come back until your baby is born? Let's say two years later?"

"I don't know" I shook my head.

Arthur sighed.

"I spoke with my dad before coming here, he said it'll be dangerous for you if you keep it"

Doctor Morris is his dad, I forgot to mention that.

"It's better you abort now, it might cost your life..you know about your cervical condition"

I blinked and looked away from him, my gaze focused on the rain.

"That's all the more reason I shouldn't abort it. Who knows if I'll ever be able to conceive again?"

He didn't say anything after I said those words.. he sighed.

"I told you not to trust college boys, but you paid no attention.. now you've been played" he grumbled.

He opened an umbrella, which I didn't know he was holding.. then led me to his car.

He opened the door for me and I slide into the passenger door, he rushed to the driver's side as I was fastening my seatbelt.

"Whatever your decision is, I'll stand by you!" He said.

Twenty years ago, he took the blame for my murder, was branded with the Silver Flame mark, and banished to the wilderness. Twenty years later, I escaped from a prison-like marriage and searched the world for him. He wasn't there in the Alaskan blizzards. He wasn't there in the deep mountains of Romania. Under the polar night in the Arctic Circle, I called his name into the darkness. No one answered. Until a hunter told me: deep in the Yukon, someone had seen a lone wolf with the Silver Flame mark.

After five years of marriage, Dylan returned home drunk and shoved a divorce paper into Jessica's hands, ordering her to sign it.
Jessica Albert is a kind, compassionate woman from a well-respected home. She did all she could to support her husband to become a great man after his family's downfall. But what did he use to pay her back with?
Dylan Robinson, a billionaire CEO of DY Group, is a dark-skinned man, very attractive. Upon his first love's return to their city, he changed and filed for a divorce.
Will Jessica agree to divorce her husband, the man that she loves the most?
Will Jessica sit back or move away to her family house and watch Dylan bring his first lover into their marital home?
Read to find out how Jessica handled her husband and see who came back begging her to forgive him and return back home to him.

On the day I received my late-stage gastric cancer diagnosis, the business proposal I’d pulled three all-nighters to finish was being fed straight into a paper shredder by my husband, Lu Ting.

Amid the deafening roar of the machine, his voice was cold and unapologetic: “Put Yingying’s name on this plan. She just got permanent employment and needs this achievement to get a firm foothold.”

I said nothing. My fingers crumpled the diagnosis report in my pocket. I turned around, opened the ticket-booking app, and booked a seven-day, six-night ultra-luxury customized honeymoon package for Lu Ting and his mistress Zhou Yingying—an overwater villa in the Maldives, with first-class flights for the entire trip.

When Lu Ting saw the order, he curled the corner of his mouth at me for once, speaking in a patronizing tone: “Finally being sensible. I’ll bring you a bag when I get back.”

I said quietly, “No need.”

You two will never come back.

For seven years of marriage, I've been silent in front of my wife.
It's not that I don't have anything to say; it's just that she can hear everyone's voice—except mine, which seems to trigger her sensitivity.
I've tried everything to change my voice, even going under the knife to fix my vocal cords.
But no matter how hard I try, she just ends up in pain, covering her ears.
I've broken down countless times, feeling like I've let her down.
Until the day of our daughter's birthday.
My daughter stood at the front door, grinning, and said, "Mom, can I pretend to be voice-sensitive like you?"

On the day of our seventh wedding anniversary, I tried to send a work email using my husband's account, but the connection was too poor to go through.
When I clicked into the drafts folder, a glaring message caught my eye:
"Tingzhou, I've prepared a new battle outfit~ Ready to drain you dry."
Seconds later, that draft vanished, replaced by a new one:
"Naughty girl, get the ultra-thins ready and wait for me."
Only three people knew the password to this email account: me, my husband, and his first love...
Watching their increasingly explicit flirtations,
tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.
Turns out, no matter how many years you spend by someone's side, it all crumbles the moment their first love returns.
I steadied my trembling fingers, sent the email, and cleared the history.
Then I dialed a number that had been dormant for seven years.
"I give up. I'm willing to come home for the arranged marriage."
On the other end came my godfather's familiar, authoritative voice,
"Get rid of anything that shouldn't be left behind. Make it clean."
My hand trembled as it touched my lower abdomen. "Okay."
"Someone will pick you up in three days."

Betrayal cuts very deep, but who says revenge can't be sweeter and satisfying?

Married to the one man who once claimed he loved her wholeheartedly, Claire is broken when she finds out about her dear husband’s endless escapades. To make matters worse, he had also been cheating on her with his secretary and had gotten her pregnant, yet he tortured her physically, mentally and emotionally and wasn't remorseful about it.

Determined to take revenge on him for the intentional pain he had caused her over the years, she set out to shatter his world completely. She does the unthinkable, and is about to turn the tables in the most shocking way.

Aurora Baylee, a vampire, is in an illicit relationship with a werewolf. Her father and all the vampires strongly opposed the relationship. She decides to go with her boyfriend Igor. However, the father manages to capture them and punish Aurora to ashes.

Life passed for a thousand years. Aurora returned to life as an ordinary human. She is a company owner engaged in hospitality and she is also a hitman. She goes on a mission and reunites with Igor.

Igor is sure that Aurora is his lover. He struggled to get it back. However, everything he did didn't work out, and Aurora didn't believe everything Igor said. Just when Igor almost made Aurora believe, Marcus came, who was Aurora's father in the past. Marcus intends to finish off Aurora and Igor because of past grudges that destroyed all his people.

Will their thousand-year love have a happy ending? Or did Marcus again manage to finish off Aurora like a thousand years ago?

At twenty one, Liyana Whitmore inherits everything—billions, power, and a legacy built to shake the world.
There’s just one problem.
To claim it, she has to live for five years under the guardianship of Matthew Everleigh—her father’s closest friend… and the man she once swore she’d marry(at age seven,by the way).
Now he’s older, colder, and hiding secrets she was never meant to uncover.
And someone out there?
Wants her dead?!

My mad mother, in her final moments, pressed a set of Russian nesting dolls into my arms.
"These cost me thirty years of my life. In return, they'll give you three ways out of death."
The first doll told me to go to a bar and bring home the third strange man I met.
The second doll, she said to open on the eve of my wedding. There was no note inside. Only a photograph — my groom, killing a woman wearing the exact same wedding dress as mine.
Three years later, on the eve of another wedding, I opened the last doll. I read the note, smiled, and dropped it in the trash.
It was only later that I understood —
This mad woman saw more clearly than anyone sane in this world.
Mom, I'm sorry.

I'm crouched on this fucking balcony clutching a pregnancy test, hands shaking like a leaf—two blazing red lines staring me in the face. I was such a goddamn fool thinking I'd tell Remy about our baby tonight. What a sick joke!
The banquet hall's roaring below and there's that bastard on stage, arm wrapped around Olivia, shouting "This winery has NO future without her!" Each word slams into me like a sledgehammer. TEN FUCKING YEARS! When he was drowning in debt, I sold every piece of Mom's jewelry to save his ass!
Then the son of a bitch hurls a box of abortion pills at me like I'm garbage: "Kill it, or Olivia's daddy pulls his money."
I'm glaring at that box and it hits me—ten years of my life pissed away on this piece of shit, and now even the innocent baby growing inside me is worth less than his blood money! I gave him everything and he's ready to murder our child for a fucking check!

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...

I spent six years working with the dead, earning money to save my son—enduring the stench and loneliness, clinging to hope.
I trusted my family, my husband, my parents, but they turned their backs on me.
They hated the smell of death on me, lied to me, and used my sacrifice for a fake sister.
All my efforts were for nothing; the hope I clung to was just a lie.
I walked away, broken and empty, while they panicked at my absence.
The pain is real, the betrayal is real—and there’s no going back.

Our engagement has gone unfulfilled for ten years.

My parents saved his family in that yacht accident. With their dying breath, they asked his family to look after me. In return, we go to city hall every year, trying to fulfill this obligation.

Ten attempts. Ten failures.

Elevator malfunctions, food poisoning, home invasions, car crashes... Every single time, I get hurt at the worst possible moment while he walks away without a scratch.

This makes ten. A truck slams into the passenger side, my head smashes against the window, and he's already running across the street, pulling that woman into his arms.

On my way to find him after they stitch me up, I hear his assistant's voice in the hospital corridor:

"Mr. Ashford, the truck driver's been taken care of. Money'll hit his account like we agreed... but is this really fair to Miss Bennett? It's been ten years, every single year—"

William's voice comes out low and tired. "I don't have a choice. Her parents saved me, but I'm in love with Emma."

I look down at the diagnosis. ALS. Late stage.

Turns out I've been trying to marry a lie this whole time.

I spent two years quietly building something I thought was worth building.
Full recovery support after birth, someone checking in on meals, leave approved the moment you asked for it. I worked out a deal with the best facility in the city and covered the difference myself, out of my own account. Not a cent of company money.
I did it because I'd watched a good employee disappear from the company the year she got pregnant. No announcement. Her desk just cleared out one day.
Then one of them posted about it.
She called it surveillance. A golden cage. The comment section called me a predator. By morning it was trending.
Here's what none of them knew: not a single dollar of that program belonged to the company.
So I listened to what they wanted and gave them exactly that.
I shut the whole thing down.

I gave birth to three children for my ruthless mafia husband. And every single time, he tore the newborns from my blood-soaked sheets and handed them straight to my barren sister.
For seven years, I endured electroshock therapy and brutal captivity, reduced to nothing but a breeding vessel to complete their "picture-perfect" family.
He thought he had broken my spirit long ago. That’s why, when the assassins struck, he didn't hesitate to shove me into the line of fire as a human shield.
To protect his true love, he threw my bleeding, wounded body into a freezing water cell as their perfect scapegoat.
He thought tossing me a few scraps of mercy would have me crawling back to him, begging like a dog.
But he was dead wrong.
When the bone-chilling water swallowed me, I didn't panic or thrash. I simply smiled, letting the black depths drag me under.
Domenico could never have imagined that the cold, lifeless corpse he personally sent to the morgue was my perfect escape, seven agonizing years in the making.
He stole my babies. He stripped away every last ounce of my dignity.
So now, I’m going to take away everything he holds dear, piece by agonizing piece: his empire, his power, and the love he arrogantly thought he could control forever.

I once thought I’d married the perfect husband, Kael, pouring all my heart and soul into trying to have a baby—until the birth certificate and adoption agreement in the study safe shattered every beautiful lie.
He and my dearest friend, Celeste, had long ago secretly had an illegitimate child,
and even plotted to trick me into being his foster mother, keeping me in the dark for the rest of my life.
What was even crueler was that on the very day I uncovered the truth, the doctor gave me the news—I was pregnant.
Once I faced the harsh truth, I resolutely faked a shipwreck to flee, going into hiding with my unborn child and leaving my old life behind.
He searched the entire world to find me, casting aside all his pride to beg for my forgiveness with a humble heart—but he could never win me back, not ever.

"We're done, Arthur."

That was how I ended a ten-year relationship with my childhood sweetheart.

He didn't take it seriously. He just smirked and asked, "How many days is this tantrum going to last? Three? A week?"

Then, his phone lit up. It was her—the helpless scholarship student he had been protecting.

"I'm on my way," he promised her softly, turning his back on me without a second thought.

He walked away, assuming I would always be his safety net.

What he didn't realize was that my answer was forever.

Ten years of being his fool, and I was finally cutting the cord.

When my CEO husband threatens divorce for the 99th time, this time trying to force me to hand over a million-dollar project to his assistant Chloe, I finally stop fighting.
I give him the project without a word.
He's thrilled. Thinks I've finally accepted my place. To reward me, he announces we'll throw a grand celebration for our fifth wedding anniversary.
Chloe finds out and falls apart. Locks herself in the supply closet. Can't bear the thought of watching us celebrate five years of marriage.
Arthur panics. Suddenly the anniversary party becomes a "client dinner" he can't reschedule. He'll take Chloe instead—she's been handling that account, after all.
"You understand how business works," he tells me. "We can celebrate privately later."
I see the photo she posts: Chloe in the restaurant he booked for us, wearing the dress he picked out, his hand covering hers across the table.
I tell him I understand.
He's satisfied. Promises we'll do something even better next month.
He doesn't know I've resigned. Doesn't know he signed the divorce papers three days ago when I slipped them into his contract stack.
We don't have a next month.

I loved Julian for ten years, carving every sweat-stained day into my love for him.
He once said I shined brighter than any gold medal.
Yet in five short minutes, he handed my dream, my glory, and my whole world to a scheming transfer girl.
Betrayed, discarded, and broken on the fencing strip, I lost my first love and everything I fought for.
Until the retired cold Olympic champion stepped out of the dark midnight shadows.
He offered me hellish training and a sharp blade of revenge.
I buried my soft heart, handed over my soul, and vowed to make every traitor pay.

I almost died on the operating table trying to give Alexander Volkov a child, unaware he already had a pair of illegitimate twins with his childhood sweetheart.
My heart stopped when I saw the DNA results. Alec, the man who made the New York underworld tremble, the man who flew back on a private jet just to hold my hand, was a flawless liar.
I turned my face away, tears soaking the hospital pillow. My hand drifted to my belly. God had finally decided to give me a break after five years of needles and agony—I was pregnant. But now, it felt like the cruelest joke.
He pulled me into his arms, smelling of expensive cologne and... baby formula.
"Tell me what's wrong, honey. Whoever made you unhappy, I'll make them pay."
I stared into his lying eyes and made my decision.
I would vanish with his unborn child, leaving him to rot in eternal regret.

"Mommy's just a housewife! I don't want Mommy anymore—I want Aunt Jessica!"

Those words from my eight-year-old son, Jimmy, hit harder than any physical blow. I stood frozen in our living room, surrounded by the shards of the vase I’d just smashed. My husband, Robert, didn't even flinch. He just pulled Jessica closer, his hand resting possessively on her waist.

"Stop being dramatic, Scarlett," Robert sneered, his eyes cold. "Jessica is my soulmate. She understands my work. You? You just clean."

Eight years of devotion. Eight years of sacrificing my career to build this home. And now, my husband and son were looking at a stranger with the love that belonged to me.

I tried to reach for Jimmy, but he pushed me away with his small, angry fists. "Bad Mommy! Aunt Jessica buys me candy! You're just an ugly hag!"

My heart twisted until it snapped. I watched them leave for Jessica's award party—an award for a paper I practically wrote but couldn't claim. I was left alone in the silence of the house I paid for, bleeding from the glass cuts on my hands.

Later that night, at the hospital, after I’d been injured by Robert’s own hand, the nurse asked Jimmy who I was. He looked me dead in the eye and said, "I don't know her. Jessica is my mom."

That was the moment the old Scarlett died. I wiped the blood from my face, picked up my phone, and dialed my lawyer.

"Mr. Owens," I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute. "Let's redraft the agreement. I don't want custody. They can have each other."

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

No tears. No scene. Just one thing —
A divorce agreement on the dining table, and she walked out the door.
Under Reason for Divorce, she wrote: Husband's sexual dysfunction.
For the first time, Fu Yuting's cold composure cracked. He tore the papers apart.
She just smiled. "That's fine. I made copies."
Three years she loved him. Three years he hurt her.
The moment she finally let go — he realized the woman who had lived for him would never look back.

After her mother’s funeral, Lena Ward returns to a small town and a house built on silence: a sealed sunroom, a will that forbids witnesses, and a sister blamed on a storm fifteen years ago. As buried records, sedatives, and a hidden trust fracture the family’s righteous facade, a chilling truth begins to surface beneath concrete and grief. Dark, tense, and emotionally sharp, this is a cold-case family thriller of rain-soaked memory, courtroom reckoning, and a child’s toy waiting under the floor.

Three years ago, I saved the life of Alessandro Gambino, New York's most powerful mafia boss.

He fell in love with me, a bartender.

His family was dead set against us, but his love won out. We got married.

After we married, he disappeared every month for "punishment day," claiming his family beat him with sixty-six lashes for breaking their rules by staying with me. Watching him suffer tore me apart.

Actully, I'm Sloane Lucchese, sole heir to the largest arms empire on the East Coast, hiding from a family war. I decided to reclaim my family name as soon as possible, so his family would finally accept me.

Finally, on our fifth wedding anniversary, I found out I was pregnant, and my father called to say they'd announce my return in two weeks.

I was going to tell Alessandro everything that night, both pieces of good news.

But that same day, I stumbled onto a secret—one that would destroy me completely.

For fifty years, I bathed in blood for my world, only to return home to find my wife dead and my daughter about to be sacrificed.
The High Priest stepped on my daughter’s head, branding me a traitor, and declared he would burn her to ashes. Scarred, broken, and with my magic depleted, I was bound to the pyre alongside her. Tens of thousands cursed us from below as the flames engulfed the stage.
Weeping, my daughter asked me, "Daddy, are you really a hero?"
I crushed the pendant on my chest.
Dragons, Dwarves, Berserkers—the million-strong allied army I had united over those fifty years descended across dimensions.
The High Priest slumped to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. "Who... who exactly are you?"
Staring into his eyes, I said only one thing:
"Dragons have reverse scales; touch them, and you die. You crossed the line!"

I was once the "Abyss Sovereign" who made the entire dark world tremble.

To protect her, I willingly buried my true name and spent five years as a humble mechanic in a wealthy family.

I swallowed countless cold stares and humiliations, seeking only a moment of peace.

But these fools, for the sake of family interests, dared to push her to the brink of destruction!

Since retreat only invites further aggression, I have no choice but to don once more that blood-stained crown.

When my steel torrent crashed through the manor gates, those privileged elites who once trampled me underfoot could only tremble desperately in the mud!

Fourteen years ago, Isabella Winston died.

At least, that's what everyone believed.

One moment, she was trapped inside a sinking car beneath the icy waters of the Hudson River. The next, she woke up in her own bathtub and somehow fourteen years in the future.

Her husband is no longer the warm, easygoing man she remembers.

Her five-year-old son is now a nineteen-year-old stranger who looks at her with suspicion.

Her twins barely remember the mother they lost—one forever chasing affection, the other keeping the entire world at arm's length.

And the family she left behind has become something broken, distant, and unrecognizable.

Now Isabella faces an impossible challenge: rebuilding a family that never truly recovered from losing her.

Fourteen years have left scars on everyone.

Unfortunately for those causing the damage, Isabella Winston has returned to set things right.

“You don’t love me, do you?” Luke whispered, pinning my wrists above my head.

His body pressed mine into the bed, hot, heavy, inescapable. His mouth brushed my ear, gentle enough to feel like a kiss, cruel enough to feel like punishment.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.“Your body is mine.”

I left Luke Morrison unconscious in an ICU eight years ago and rebuilt myself in London—elite auctioneer, an ocean between me and the past.

Then my brother's condition crashed. I'm back in Pennsylvania, standing behind an auction podium at his company's charity gala.

A little boy runs through the crowd and wraps his arms around me: "Mama, you came back."

"Daddy shows me pictures every day," Asher says.

Every. Single. Day. How long has this been going on?

Luke's watching with ice-cold eyes. The bullied boy I left behind? Gone. Replaced by a tech billionaire who makes predators look soft.

"Get in," he says. Not a request.

Then he takes me back to his home.

His penthouse is frozen in time—the art I chose, the books I organized. Our past preserved like he's been waiting.

"You owe me eight years, Mia," he says, showing me the scar. "The girl who watched them destroy me and did nothing. This time, you don't run."

When he fucks me, it's worship and punishment. Making me pay for every day I was gone.

"I've waited eight years for this. Every breath you take belongs to me."

He's not just possessive. He's broken. And Asher is the perfect weapon to keep me trapped.

He made sure he protected her, till she got on her feet again.

When the Whites went bankrupt, Katherine was "sold" by her ex to tycoon Alexander for $1M. He trapped her, took her nightly but ignored her, clung to his childhood sweetheart, and spied on her — until a study diary revealed his 12-year unspoken love behind the cold control.

On the third day of the apocalypse, I was bitten by a zombie while saving a child and was abandoned outside the camp by everyone, left to die.

Three years later, I became the legendary "Masked Monster," secretly protecting those who had betrayed me.

They nailed me to a cross, preparing for a public execution.

Until the Corpse King invaded.

I tore through my chains and charged into certain death, all to protect a girl who still remembered my name.

She raised her gun with tears streaming down her face, aiming at my head.

“You can stand there and deny it all you want,” he said huskily in my ear. “But I know how drenched you were that night. Your tight little p*ssy? It was calling my name, baby.”

“You’re insane! I never wanted you!” I gritted out, hating how weak I sounded. Hating how my arms suddenly didn’t have the strength to push him away.

How there was a part of me that truly wanted him, despite everything.

“Keep denying it,” he murmured, eyes darkening. “It just makes me more eager to bend you over my desk and f*ck that attitude right out of you.”


When executive assistant Alice Rhodes sent her arrogant and insufferable boss, Theodore Linden-Hawthorne, a sext during the company’s New Year’s party, her life turned completely upside down.

She lost everything: her fiancé, her family, and her best friend, all because of one embarrassing mistake. To make matters worse, Theodore seemed incapable of staying away from her, and Alice was horrified to realize that the feeling was slowly starting to become mutual.

But this attraction between them came at a price. Alice and Theodore came from two completely different worlds. Their attraction was forbidden and frowned upon by everyone around them. Would their love survive vengeful exes, juicy scandals, hidden secrets, and unexpected surprises?

The room went deadly silent. Christopher, the CEO of Sullivan Group, looked at me with pure disgust. "Get this crazy girl out of here! My grandfather is dying, and you're playing sick games?"

But the old man on the bed... his eyes flew open. He stared at me—not at my young, beautiful face, but into my soul. He saw the sketch in my hand. A secret only a mother and her six-year-old son would know.

"Jimmy," I said softly, using the nickname no one had spoken in decades. "Do you remember the thunderstorms?"

Tears streamed down the old man's wrinkled cheeks. The most powerful man in Boston, reached out his frail hand to grasp mine. "Mama?" he choked out, his voice breaking like a small child's. "You came back?"

Christopher froze. The doctors froze. I climbed onto the bed and pulled my 80-year-old son into my arms. "I'm here, baby. Mommy's home."

In this prestigious North American university, I was just a lowly physical education teacher, working long hours and being bossed around.
No one knew that two years ago, I was a special forces legend, codenamed "Tyrant," who climbed to the top of the dark web, stepping over the corpses of countless enemies in the abyss of hell.
I thought I had washed the blood off my hands.
Until that day, the only ordinary female student I cared about was lured into a black market industrial park on the Balkan border, facing a butcher's chainsaw.
For five million dollars to save my life, I was willing to swallow all my pride and bow to the school's richest family.
But what I got in return was public humiliation and a beating from the powerful.
They laughed at me, calling me a weakling, saying my life was less than that of a lowly dog.
Watching the video showing only five hours left of life and death, I snapped the spine of the richest man's bodyguard with my bare hands, tearing apart the docile mask I had worn for two years.
Crossing half the globe to storm into a heavily guarded, lawless land?
It had been a long time since I'd stretched my muscles.
It seems the world has forgotten why this dark jungle, filled with warlords and evil, still cannot bear to hear my name!

Five years ago, I woke up after surgery with my mind completely blank. The doctor said I had been in a training accident, and I was lucky just to be alive. Due to my injuries, after being discharged from the military, I was assigned to the mess hall at Fort Kiernan. Every day, I stood behind the same serving window, dishing out the same beef and potato stew to the same group of new recruits. I thought my life would always be like this. Then one day, a female journalist from the detention cell was escorted over by military police to get her meal. She slid her tray toward me and spoke a word I had never heard before. The ladle slipped right out of my left hand. My right arm dropped to my side, and my fingers curled instinctively into the shape of a gun grip. Who on earth am I?