34 Book(s) Related to madre capitulo 30

Aria is desperate. Her best friend, Lena, needs surgery.

A mysterious offer appears: a contract to spend 30 nights with a rich man who needs a virgin.

The payment equals the surgery cost.

Aria signs, thinking it’s a shameful but harmless deal.

She’s taken to Kael Donovan’s estate, massive, intimidating, surrounded by forest.

Kael is distant, treating her like an object.

He believes she’s just another human pure but replaceable.

Their first night is awkward, tense, electric. She senses something feral in him.

Development
Kael’s wolf, Rhett, reacts violently the moment he touches her growling “Mate.”

Kael refuses to believe it. The curse shouldn’t allow him a mate.

He decides to keep her anyway for the sake of breaking the curse.

Aria feels strange sensations hearing whispers, her senses sharpening but thinks it’s fear.

Kael starts acting possessive, jealous when she smiles at his guards.

He hates how much he wants her. She hates how much she needs him.

Their nights turn passionate and raw, but he still keeps his heart locked.

Aria’s emotions deepen. She starts to see the man behind the Alpha.

Rising Tension
Aria learns bits about the curse Kael’s pack is dying out, and his inability to bond might destroy them.

Selene Voss, Kael’s chosen fiancée by alliance, visits the mansion.

She instantly despises Aria, sensing the mate bond before Kael admits it.

Selene begins plotting.

"Emma, this is a big night for the pack. The Alphas gathered here tonight could be important potential allies. You need to make a good impression." My father said.
"Potential husbands for your daughter, you mean?" I retort. "The way you used Mom to make an alliance before casting her aside when your 'true mate' appeared."
I cast a disdainful glance at Lisa, my father's 'true mate'. Her smile tightens but, for once, she doesn't speak.
"Mind your tone," my father snarls a warning, "At least your mother knew her place. You would do well to remember yours."
"My place? Is that what you call this? So you're grooming me to be like Mom. To be used and then thrown away when a prettier option appears?"
"That's enough!" My father grinds his teeth. "You will do exactly what I say for once. You'll meet whoever I want you to meet. You'll play nice and do what's best for the pack."
"I'm not going to repeat your mistake, I'm not going to end up like Mom!"


Emma, the daughter of the Alpha of the SilverPine Pack, grew up witnessing her father secure power through a political marriage to her mother. But when he found his true mate, he reduced Emma's mother to a slave and allowed Lisa to humiliate and torment her. This painful experience made Emma swear never to repeat the same fate or become a sacrifice for pack alliances.
Forced to attend the Choosing Party by her father, Emma rebels and escapes, unexpectedly sharing a one night stand with Ethan, Alpha of the IronClaw Pack. What she thought was a fleeting encounter shocks her when she discovers Ethan is the very match her father arranged for her.
Though drawn to Ethan, the shadow of her mother's suffering haunts Emma. She vows to find her true mate within 30 days or... do whatever it takes to make Ethan willingly give up the marriage...

Four desperate men—Adrian Kane, Liam Cross, Ezra Black, and Damien Hart—receive identical invitations promising unimaginable wealth in just thirty days.
There’s only one condition: survive.

Taken to a secluded estate and cut off from the outside world, they are thrown into a series of escalating challenges where failure is not an option—it’s a death sentence. What begins as a high-stakes competition for money quickly turns into something far more sinister: a controlled experiment designed by a shadowy organization that rewards ruthlessness and punishes hesitation.

Alliances form. Trust shatters. And every decision comes with a cost.

As the days grow darker, the truth becomes clear—this is not a game meant to be beaten. It is a system designed to break them, reshape them, and choose only one survivor.

In the end, only one will walk away.

And survival may be the worst fate of all

She sacrificed a brilliant career to be his secret wife. But on their anniversary, he gifted his precious first love a $15M piano, while tossing her a dog-eared cookbook. In that moment, seven years of silent devotion died. The countdown began.

For thirty days, she watched his other woman move in. For thirty days, she endured his neglect and cruelty. She let them believe they had won. All while quietly securing the world-class career she once walked away from.

When the clock struck zero, she boarded the flight without a look back. He was left holding the empty life she built, finally screaming a name he never truly valued—into a silence she no longer cared to hear.

Three years ago, on their way to attend my graduation art exhibition, the cruise ship carrying my fiancé and my family caught fire.

Over the past three years, I downed sleeping pills countless times, desperately wanting to follow them into the afterlife. Every single time, my adopted sister, Serena, saved me, crying hysterically as she shoved her fingers down my throat to make me throw up.

"They are already gone! Harper, you can't keep living in the past. You have to live on for their sake!"

After fainting from yet another high fever and being rushed to the hospital, I was diagnosed with terminal leukemia.

The doctor said I had a month left, at most.

I refused their advice to find a bone marrow match. Clutching my family's belongings, I decided to go back to our old estate in the suburbs for one last look.

While I was walking in a daze, a little boy running wildly crashed hard into my legs.

A male voice that had haunted my dreams for years rang out from behind me. "Alistair, if you keep running off, what will you do if Mommy and Daddy don't want you anymore?"

In an instant, it felt like I had been plunged into freezing water. I froze in place.

Jack and Syd spent a week in paradise. It was only supposed to be a fling. But life can be funny sometimes, and circumstances brought them back together again. Together they seemed to have found their happy ever after. But when Sydney is offered a chance at the career she has always wanted, she must leave Jack behind to follow her dreams. Can their love survive long distance? Sydney’s touring with a man every woman wants, but he only has eyes for Syd. And an unexpected tragedy leaves Jack feeling remorseful. Can the two find a way through to forever?

The day I died in a foreign country, my boyfriend was in the spotlight with another woman.

He's the man I built from nothing. Five years ago, I saved a broke orphan fresh out of college from the gutter. He said he wanted to be famous, wanted to make it to the top of the hockey world. In exchange, he became my boyfriend for five years.

I gave him the best coaching staff money could buy. Bought an entire hockey franchise and made him the centerpiece. Called in every favor I had to make him MVP.

But while he enjoyed everything I gave him, he refused to make our relationship public. Said it would "hurt his brand." He could make headlines with reporters and models, but nobody could know I existed.

He even said on national TV: "Those owners who just throw money around are pretty boring. Hockey is about skill, not money."

So why did he lose his mind when he found out I was dead?

Warning: 18+ only🔕🔕
Featuring hardcore taboo, filthy age-gap erotica, and the darkest forbidden fantasies that will wreck you for anything else. This is a super steamy boxset loaded with thirty wild stories of raw, dripping desire. Think twisted, sweat-soaked, heart-racing adventures so naughty and intense they'll leave you squirming, gasping, and desperate for more on every page.

These aren't cute little love stories, honey. These are straight-up ruthless, rule-breaking romps where older men take total control and younger women melt into the kind of sin that has you soaked and shaking all over.

If you're not eighteen or older, close this right now, babe. You're seriously not ready for the fire that's about to hit you.

I loved Finley for two years.
Until 1:00 AM on a Tuesday, when his best friend, Orion, sent me a half-naked photo and a jarring voice note."
If I actually bag her, don't go flipping out on me. A deal's a deal."
I booked the first flight out to confront him, only to catch the boy I loved naked and thrusting into another woman.
But that wasn't even the part that broke me.
When my roommate bypassed the hockey team's private Discord server, I found a channel named: #locker-room-bets.
There was my boyfriend, typing the words that shattered my world: "She's boring... She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her... Play with her all you want."
My loyalty and two years of my life were nothing but a sick joke.
The entire hockey team had put money down on when I would willingly spread my legs for his best friend.

She only wanted one night.

He was supposed to be a beautiful stranger she’d never see again.

But fate has other plans.

Three years ago, Emmaline Facer made a bold choice. She slept with the first man who made her heart race — and disappeared the next morning, leaving with stolen money, a stolen car, and leaving behind a man who never stopped looking for her.

Now? She’s back. Working for one of New York’s biggest fashion companies. And her new boss?

Ezra Queen — the man she abandoned.

He hasn’t forgotten her. He hasn’t forgiven her. And what neither of them knows is that their lives are about to get far more complicated.

Now, forced to work together, old sparks ignite, buried secrets rise, and a dangerous game begins — where love battles betrayal, and past mistakes threaten everything.

And a little girl who isn’t who everyone thinks she is.

"I knew I wanted you right from first glance and I came for you."
"Let go of me!!!" I yelled back but when his fingers connected to my skin, I gasped and a moan escaped my lips.
"Do you not like this, my pet?"
I looked at my captor, hunger shooting to my spine and my thighs in heat. I swallowed hard and I gave a nod. "I like it, Daddy."

Kidnapped by a ruthless Mafia Lord, Nora should be scared of her fate but deep down, this monster isn't really a monster. Is it not her fate that she was made for a ruthless mafia?

They say the dead go where they belong.

But I didn't.

I drift through the cold winds, watching my husband—the detective who once swore to protect me with his life—diligently investigating a dismemberment case.

He doesn't know that the broken body lying in the morgue is his wife.

He doesn't know that the gentle, caring "psychologist" who brings him lunch every day is the one who killed me.

He doesn't know that when I called him in my final moments, begging for help, he hung up on me. I am dead. Yet, that is not the cruelest part— the most harrowing aspect is having to witness the truth gradually emerge, watching as that man collapses completely upon uncovering it all.

When Riley caught her girlfriend getting married to her proud brother, she felt betrayed, and her family's taunt broke her. In order to hide her hurting soul, Riley picked the man closest to her and declared that he was her fiance. But the man wasn't just any regular guy, he was Alexander Hamilton-Rodriguez. One of the richest CEO in the country.
Alex was having issues with his wife, Quinoa, and thought Riley would be able to help, so he offered her a contract marriage.

Unfortunately, Riley found out that she had just two months to live, at that moment, she wanted something real, and the next closest person to her was Doctor Roland Salad, Quinoa's brother.

A dying Riley needed Roland, and the haunted Alex needed Riley. But Roland wasn't sure of who he wanted, because he was in love with the both of them.

My name is Themis and I am not supposed to be alive.

I survived the hunt, saddled with a husband and still I have to waddle my way through so many things to remain alive at the end of the day.

The one person I can count on other than myself is my new husband who saved my life from the get go.

And my gift of prophecy.

Maybe, just maybe it is also enough to save the Dar Empire too.

My name is Themis and this is my story.

Juggling her career and family, Thea fought to keep her marriage alive after her husband lost his job. She hired a nanny to help—never guessing she was welcoming her own replacement.
"The three of us look more like a family than with you, mommy."
That was the final nail.
She walked away. No custody battle. No tearful goodbyes. Just silence. And from that silence, she rose—stronger, sharper, and impossible to break.
Enter Ezra Harrington.
Billionaire. CEO. Her boss.
Cold-blooded in more ways than one.
He wants Thea—but not just in the boardroom. He's hungry for more.
Her blood sings to him.
Her strength tempts him.
Her fire threatens to consume him.
But Thea doesn't kneel.
Not for love. Not for monsters.
Not even for the devil in a custom Armani suit.
Now her past is clawing back—
A husband begging for a second chance. A child she ne er stopped loving. And a vampire boss who'd destroy the world to keep her.
T.W: Dub-con, vampirism/alpha dominance, workplace relationship, dark romance etc.

"I don't have enough money or power right now, but I will definitely find a way to bring them all to their knees! I'll make them all beg!" She hissed, shaking with anger and frustration. "I will do everything, anything… to make them all regret… even if I have to sell my soul to the devil!" She said with determination flashing in her beautiful eyes.

The man smirked. He lifted his fingers and tucked some errant strands of her slightly mussed up hair behind her ear. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss. A certain devil here might really fulfil your wish and claim your soul in exchange."

"If that devil is really here, do introduce him to me, handsome. I would like to make a deal with him." Eva drawled out, smirking back at him.

I spent ten years turning a thug into a top boxer, but he and my wife kicked me out of the game, mocking me for "not understanding business and being outdated."

I didn't argue, and turned around to pick up a homeless man who had fought in underground boxing matches on the roadside.

A year later, the homeless man's apprentice knocked out the defending champion with one punch and won the gold belt; while that ingrate who betrayed me was beaten into a cripple in the underground boxing ring.

The geniuses you all think they are are nothing more than half-finished products under my tutelage!

On my eighteenth birthday, I didn't get a cake. I got a slap from my mother and my MIT acceptance letter crushed under her heel.

In their eyes, I wasn't a daughter—I was a walking blood bank, a spare part for my cousin Jennifer.

They took my blood, made me take the blame, even sent me to prison in her place.

In that car accident, my mother saved my cousin without hesitation and left me to bleed out in the wreckage.

"Save Jennifer first! That wretch is too stubborn to die!"

That's when I gave up on them.

But what truly broke me wasn't being sent to a mental hospital—it was the diary I found hidden in my mother's safe.

I got off work two hours early, hoping to surprise my boyfriend whom I had just bailed out for $30,000.
I pushed the bedroom door open. The surprise was on me—my stepsister Chloe was straddling Dorian. The same man who, just three days ago, sat crying on the police station floor swearing "I only have you," now slowly lit a cigarette and asked if I wanted to join them.
I thought that was the worst moment of my life.
I was wrong.
When the hand that had just been caressing Chloe gripped my throat and hoisted me into the air, I finally saw the truth. Dorian Vane, the guy who humiliated me at our high school prom ten years ago, hadn't changed at all.

For eighteen years, I had no idea I wasn't my parents' biological daughter.
Standing outside with the luggage they'd tossed out the door, I met the brother I'd never known—from the "poor family" I supposedly came from.
He showed up on a tractor, of all things!
But as the rickety tractor rumbled through the gates of an ancient estate, it hit me:
Finding my birth parents didn't make me any less rich—it just made me richer.
Now, can someone please explain why I suddenly have a fiancé?
And why he's my college professor?!

The car crash six months ago destroyed my body. I survive the agony only through the painkillers prescribed by my brother, Fletcher.
While shopping for my wedding dress, I simply swallowed a pill on schedule. My mother responded with a slap that made me spit blood. My father stormed in and kicked my ribs in without asking a single question.
I fled crying to my brother, only for him to grab me in disgust: "You are a disgrace to this family."
I called my fiancé. He rushed to the scene, took one look at the pill, and called the cops without hesitation: "The engagement is off. She makes me sick."
In just a few hours, I went from a bride-to-be to a death row inmate.
But as the gavel fell, I saw our family maid calmly swallow the exact same pill from the gallery…
I lunged at the railing, screaming at the judge. He leaned down, a chilling smile spreading across his face: "Linnea, this is all because…"

Since marrying into the Sterling family, I've been pregnant three times. Not one of them survived.

Every time the DNA test report arrived, my mother-in-law would drag me to the clinic for an abortion.

They said the fetus had genetic defects. But I secretly went to an outside hospital for tests, and the report clearly stated everything was normal.

After my third miscarriage, I followed my in-laws to the basement I was forbidden to enter.

I held my breath and pressed my eye to the crack in the door.

In that moment, I finally knew why they had to kill my babies.

"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.

My mother was dying, and I—the fallen heiress of the Sterling family—had no choice but to ask my husband for the $200,000 stipulated in our prenuptial agreement, less than a week after our wedding.

He transferred the money without a word.

But that night, the way he looked at me changed.

"So the Sterling family is drowning in fraud scandals. I guess greed really does run in the blood."

From that day on, Theodore never looked me in the eye again.

He started openly parading other women at social events, letting everyone mock me as a gold-digger who only married him for money.

Today is my birthday. I'm sitting in the emergency room with unbearable stomach pain.

Meanwhile, Theodore is throwing a party for his new girlfriend.

Clutching the $185 emergency room bill, I call him.

"Theodore, let's get a divorce."

"Here we go again. How much are you trying to extort from me this time?"

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 boyfriend's mistress deliberately gave me a strawberry cake that I'm allergic to.
After I went into anaphylactic shock and had a miscarriage, I knew it was all over.
But when I left it all behind and went back to my hometown, he showed up at my door telling me to quit throwing a fit, that he still loved me.
This kind of love full of betrayal?
I don't want it.

At the parents' meeting, the daughter's diary was read aloud: "My father is the Grand Duke of the Night."
The room erupted in laughter.
The mentor, disregarding her daughter's dignity, tore up her diary, while the nouveau riche woman advised me , a liar, to "get out of this neighborhood."
I didn't say anything, I just stood up. Then, their knees were all shattered.

On my wedding night, I discovered the man in my bed wasn't my husband.
It was his twin brother—the one the family had exiled.
In my previous life, I exposed them in a rage.
My cheating husband came back, smashed my head open, and threw me into the ocean to be fed to the sharks.
But this time, reborn with a second chance, I cupped the face of the man in front of me—the face identical to my husband's—and slowly untied my wedding dress.
"Since he personally delivered you to my bed, then from now on... you're the husband."
This time, I'm going to raise up the loyal stand-in, and take everything from that bastard.

As the most cold-blooded and ruthless Mafia don, Twain Hall had doted on me like the apple of his eye for ten years.
But on the very day we were discussing our wedding, the ring his subordinate delivered had another woman's name engraved on it—not mine.
I pretended not to notice and turned to Twain.
"Did they bring the wrong ring? Who's Dorothy? I've never heard of her."
Twain's expression didn't change. He pulled me into his arms with that familiar, indulgent look.
"My people weren't careful. Made a fool of themselves."
"I'll have them exchange it right away. Can't keep my queen waiting."
I smiled. But the moment I turned away, my face went cold. I dialed a number.
"Didn't you say you'd pay any price to marry me? Twain Hall betrayed me. I want his head!"