9 Book(s) Related to hashirama cells

Thalia was once a meek and obedient Luna, trapped in a loveless marriage to Killian, the heir of Thornwood. Betrayed by those she trusted, she is abandoned and humiliated by her cruel husband, while his affair with the manipulative Astrid destroys her world. Stripped of her title, poisoned, and left for dead, Thalia’s fate seems sealed—until a mysterious adventurer saves her, bringing her to the hidden world of Stormclaw.

In this new land, Thalia begins to heal and uncover the truth of Thornwood’s stolen throne. Ryker, a cold and powerful leader, forces Thalia to confront her weaknesses and push herself beyond what she thought possible. As she trains to become a warrior, the old Thalia—broken and submissive—begins to fade, replaced by a fierce woman driven by the need for revenge.

As Thornwood’s power crumbles, Thalia and Ryker form an unbreakable bond. But Killian's regret grows, and as his rule falls apart, Thalia must decide: Will she seek justice for her past, or embrace the future with Ryker, the man who has helped her rediscover her strength?

In a final, thrilling confrontation, Thalia and Ryker reclaim the throne and bring those who betrayed her to justice. With her enemies imprisoned and her past finally behind her, Thalia stands at the dawn of a new era—by Ryker’s side, as Luna of Thornwood. But will she ever truly escape the scars of her past, or will the shadows of betrayal always follow her?

I helped him claw his way up from nothing—from the family's bastard to king of the underworld.

I saved him when he got jumped in the streets. Took bullets for him when his father beat him half dead. We fought our way up from nothing, survived assassination attempts, built an empire that made people fear our name.

I thought we'd always stand together.

Until the day I nearly died giving birth, and all I found in the bassinet was a stack of cash.

I asked him where our baby was. He couldn't look me in the eye. His stepmother walked out holding my son. Smiled and said she deserved this, a child of her own, since she couldn't have one herself. He'd given my baby to another woman.

Turns out he'd been sleeping with her the whole time.

I threw the money in his face. I spent the next six years trying to get my son back.

Last week, when some small-time gang grabbed him, I went in alone with a gun. Bullets flew past my ears, kicked up concrete dust. I fought my way to the back and pulled him out. At the hospital, he pushed me away, crying, "Why'd you have to come?! We could've been a real family by now! Just leave! Leave me alone!"

I stared at his small face for a long time.

Finally, I said, "Call me mom one last time. Then I'll let you go."

Three years ago, I nearly died giving birth to my son.

My husband Elias wasn't by my side—he was outside, ready to rip my baby from my arms and hand him to his dead brother's widow.

"We owe her this."

As I screamed and bled, Elias made his decree: "Aria stays away from the boy. She comes near him, she gets the silver whip."

They gave my son to Vivienne. I wasn't even allowed to see his face.

For three years, I tried everything to reach him.

Scaled walls—got twenty-three scars across my back. Snuck in as a maid—starved for seven days. Crashed his third birthday—thrown in ice water until I couldn't feel my legs.

Every time, worse punishment. Elias started looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

Then yesterday, fire ripped through the house. Flames swallowed the nursery.

Everyone screamed, including Vivienne—but she didn't move.

Only I ran in.

I pulled Asher out, barely breathing.

When he woke up, he shoved me away and clung to Vivienne, sobbing: "Mommy! She's here again! Make her GO! You said she'd leave if I was good!"

Three years of lies had erased me completely.

I dropped to my knees, voice breaking: "Call me 'Mom' just once. Then I'll disappear forever."

“Lola, I’ll love you for the rest of my life. If I ever break this promise, may heaven strike me down with thunder!”
The vows Ethan Jones made to me ten years ago still rang in my ears.
Yet ten years later, our daughter Lucy was standing in front of me, holding his hand—and the hand of his mistress, Alice.
“I don’t want you, you old, frumpy woman, as my mom. Alice is my mom!”
Not only did Ethan fail to stop Lucy’s cruel words, he looked at Alice with nothing but tenderness in his eyes.
Alice, too, showed no restraint. Right in front of me, she gently stroked Lucy’s little head and smiled.
“Of course. I’m your mom.”
In that moment, I finally understood something clearly—
In this family, I was nothing but an extra.

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

I made 17 calls for help. My sister answered every one—and hung up.

For 48 hours, I lay dying in Pine Ridge Forest, texting desperate pleas to my family. They thought I ran away. The truth? My sister deleted every message while I begged for my life.

Three months dead. Zero funeral. My family didn't even notice I was gone.

Now the police have recovered my phone. Every deleted text. Every ignored call. Every lie my sister told to cover up what she did.

"Please. I can't feel my legs. I'm sorry I exist. Just don't let me die here."

They wanted me invisible. I gave them what they wanted.

Now they'll spend the rest of their lives wishing they'd answered when I called.

Pregnant?” A gleam crossed my eyes, and before I could control myself, tears began running down my eyes. My vision was blurry from the tears, but I still scanned the files, my heart beating loudly. A smile finally made its way to my face.

I looked at the nurse who was standing behind me, looking happy, but certainly not as happy as I was. Eight years. Eight years of barrenness, Eight years of crying and praying to the moon goddess, Eight years of tolerance to everything I passed through in the hands of my Alpha’s mother.