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Gale Kaaya

17 Published Stories

Gale Kaaya's Books and Stories

Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil

Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil

 Mafia
5.0
My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement. To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia. It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping. But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished. She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug. She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash. Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name. She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant. I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead. I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye. "Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you." Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth. "Prove it," he growled. I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip.
Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

 Modern
5.0
I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died. He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world. The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn’t married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel’s hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I’d bought him for his birthday. I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I’d get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant. How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset? I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free.
The Defective Mate He Rejected Is A White Wolf

The Defective Mate He Rejected Is A White Wolf

 Werewolf
5.0
I stood at the altar in my lace gown, the heiress of the Sterling Pack, waiting to marry the man I had protected for years. To soothe his fragile ego, I had taken suppressants to hide my wolf, letting everyone believe I was "defective" and unable to shift. But when the priest asked for his vows, Liam didn't say "I do." Instead, he looked toward the back of the hall where his pregnant mistress stood with a toddler. "I can't let my bloodline die out with a broken mate," Liam announced to the entire city's elite. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes. "I reject you, Ava. Sarah carries a strong male heir. You are nothing but a wolf without a skin." The humiliation burned as I coughed up blood onto the white roses, the bond shattering in my chest. He thought he was discarding a useless cripple. He didn't know that the only reason he felt strong was because I had dimmed my own light. I wiped the blood from my lip and looked up. My eyes, usually hazel, flashed a blinding silver-white. "I accept your rejection." I turned and walked away, leaving him with his stolen happiness. He didn't know that when I returned five years later, I wouldn't be alone. I would be coming back with a Lycan King, and I would own the very ground he stood on.
He Chose The Maid Over The Heiress

He Chose The Maid Over The Heiress

 Modern
5.0
I was in a Zurich boardroom signing a contract worth fifty million dollars when I saw the photo that ended my marriage. It was an Instagram notification from the woman I paid to scrub my toilets. The caption read: "My little prince deserves the world." The photo showed her son holding a custom-made porcelain doll with diamond-dust eyes. It was the only one in the world, commissioned specifically for my daughter, Lily. I cancelled the deal and flew home immediately. When I arrived at my daughter's school, I found the housekeeper wearing my vintage Chanel coat and driving my car. My husband, Austyn, didn't run to greet me. He ran past our crying daughter to comfort the housekeeper's son. "Don't you dare touch my son!" he screamed at me, protecting the boy while our daughter scraped her knees on the pavement. He looked at me with pure hate, confident that he could take half my assets in a divorce. He forgot that I wasn't just a wife. I was the Duchess of the Miller Syndicate, the most powerful crime family in New York. I pulled out my phone and froze every account he had. "You want a divorce?" I asked, signaling my security team to step forward. "Take off the suit, Austyn. I paid for it." "You are leaving this marriage exactly how you entered it. With nothing."
A Wife's Vengeful Art

A Wife's Vengeful Art

 Modern
5.0
The invitation glowed on my phone, Chloe Davis beaming next to my husband, Mark. Her caption hit me like a punch: "So proud to unveil my latest installation, 'Maternal Instincts.' A huge thanks to my muse and patron, Mark Peterson." Mark. My Mark. Smiling a smile I hadn' t seen directed at me since before Leo was born. 'Maternal Instincts.' Chloe knew nothing about being a mother. She only knew about destroying one. My son, Leo. My baby. He was gone. And there she was, twisting a word that belonged to me and my son, for her ugly art. I drove to her gallery, the cold night air doing nothing to wake me from the fog I lived in. She opened the door, a slow smile spreading across her face when she saw me. "Sarah. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was smooth, like honey mixed with poison. Inside, her "masterpiece" stood on a stark white pedestal: a collection of jagged, broken gray shapes, cemented together. It was cold and ugly. "It's about the pieces of a life," Chloe purred, theatrical. "How a mother's love can shatter... Mark found it incredibly moving." Then, the final blow: "He says I capture raw emotion so much better than you ever did. He said your work was always too… perfect. Too clean. No soul." Every word a calculated strike. Not just as a wife, but as an artist, as a person with a soul. My world, already cracked, began to splinter. I saw the sculpting knife on her workbench. Cold and heavy in my hand, it felt real. Solid. For the first time in months, I felt a sharp, clear purpose. I pressed the tip against my wrist. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop. Pushed down. A thin line of red appeared, bright and shocking. It didn' t hurt. It was just a release. Then, Chloe' s shriek: "Oh my god! What are you doing? You're getting blood on the floor!" She rushed, not to me, but to grab a rag. "Are you insane? This is a polished concrete floor! It's going to stain!" Her words barely registered as the world tilted and went fuzzy. The last thing I heard was her calling Mark: "Your wife is making a scene." I woke in a hospital room. Mark stood over me, his face a mask of fury. "What the hell was that, Sarah? Humiliating me in front of Chloe? At her big opening? Do you have any idea how that makes me look?" He spoke in a low hiss, silencing my attempts to explain. "Just don't. I can't deal with this right now. I have to go back and help Chloe clean up your mess." He turned to leave as a doctor, kind-looking, walked in. "Mr. Peterson? I'm Dr. Albright. I need to speak with you about your wife." Mark sighed, a long, suffering sound. "She's fine. Dramatic. Needs a sedative or something." Dr. Albright' s voice was firm. "Your wife is not being dramatic, Mr. Peterson. She is suffering from severe postpartum depression, complicated by profound grief. She is a danger to herself." A flood of relief washed over me. Someone saw it. Someone believed me. But Mark just laughed, a cold, ugly sound. "Postpartum depression? That's ridiculous. The baby's been gone for months. This is just Sarah being Sarah. She's seeking attention. She needs to grow up." He looked at me with contempt. "A psychiatric hold? Don't be absurd. I'm her husband. I'm taking her home." Dr. Albright stood her ground. "Mr. Peterson, I am advising you in the strongest possible terms against that. Your wife admitted she wanted to die. Taking her home without professional intervention would be medically negligent." Mark' s face hardened. He leaned into the doctor, his voice a menacing whisper. "Are you calling me a negligent husband? My wife is emotional. She says things she doesn't mean. I know how to handle her. We're leaving." He turned on me. "Get your things. We're going. You've caused enough trouble for one night." The flicker of hope died. To him, my pain was an inconvenience. An embarrassment. I was utterly alone with it. Then, the door creaked open. Emily. My best friend. She rushed to me, holding me tight. A raw sob tore from my throat, full of months of pain and fear. "Oh, Sarah," she murmured, her voice thick. "Mark's assistant called him… Chloe… she posted something. I knew." "It's not your fault," I choked out. "It's me. I'm broken, Em." "No!" she said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're sick. I've seen this coming. Ever since Leo…" The mention of his name hung heavy. Ever since Leo was born, I' d been sinking. The sleepless nights, his crying, mine, the overwhelming feeling. A darkness. A fog that wouldn't lift. Mark waved me off. "All new moms are tired." Then Leo died. SIDS, they said. The fog became a suffocating blackness. A gaping hole Mark filled with Chloe. "I'm not living, Em," I whispered, looking at my bandaged wrist. "I'm just… waiting. I don't know how to do this anymore." "Then we'll figure it out," Emily squeezed my hand. "You're not alone. I won't let you be." But as Mark' s car horn honked impatiently outside, I wondered if even her love would be enough. My prison warden was waiting. He thought he could lock me away in the perfect glass house. But he couldn't imprison a woman who had already decided she was going to die. A woman with a plan.
Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

 Fantasy
5.0
My butcher shop smelled of iron and chilled meat, a clean, sharp scent I' d known my whole life. Most people in this small town saw me, Lisa, as the butcher with the pretty face and strange eyes. They whispered, but I didn' t care. Whispers don' t pay the bills, but a new client' s offer of twenty thousand dollars as a deposit for an "Underworld Matchmaker" job certainly did. Two hundred thousand more upon completion. It was enough to change my life. The job: perform a ritual for her supposedly deceased son, Alexander Dubois, to secure his family' s spiritual line and fortune. But then I saw the photo. My stomach dropped. It was Alex, the man who' d vanished from my life five years ago, the struggling artist I' d once loved. Yet, the death certificate listed him as Alexander Dubois, with a different birthdate. His eyes in the photo, full of that familiar charming light, stared back at me, shattering my world. This wasn' t just a high-paying job; it was a trap. The woman who claimed to be his mother was entangled in a web of lies. I knew, with chilling certainty, that the spirit I was summoned to match was not just "resistant"-it was alive. They weren't asking me to perform a ritual for the dead; they were trying to make me an accomplice to murder. My heart pounded furiously. This was no longer just about money or old traditions. This was about Alex, about unraveling the truth, and about surviving the deadly game the Dubois family was playing right into my grandmother' s special plan.
Broken Promises, Unbreakable Will

Broken Promises, Unbreakable Will

 Billionaires
5.0
I poured my heart and genius into building InnovateTech, a billion-dollar empire, and into building Liam, the man I loved, my co-founder and fiancé. Then my cousin, Sarah, came weeping to my door, seeking refuge, and shattered everything. I walked into our penthouse, planning a surprise anniversary dinner, only to find Sarah in my silk robe, in Liam' s arms, in our bed. The shock was a physical demolition, leaving a vacuum where my heart used to be. Every memory, every promise, every dream turned to ash as I heard their laughter. Humiliated, betrayed, and with nothing left to lose, I made a desperate, wild choice: I would marry the reclusive billionaire, Mark, a man rumored to be a "freak," to save my family and myself. Liam confronted me, his face twisted with disbelief and rage. "You' re marrying Mark? The city' s freak? Are you insane?" he spat. I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, cold emptiness, the pain having burned away into steel. "Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I am." He saw a stranger, a loyal subject who had walked away, and in that moment, I knew I had made the right choice.
The Discarded Daughter's Rise

The Discarded Daughter's Rise

 Modern
5.0
Christmas morning should have been filled with joy, but for me, it was the day my hard work, my straight-A report card, was ripped to shreds by my father. Instead of comfort, my own paternal grandmother slapped me, calling me a "bad omen" just like my mother, Brenda. My mother, a paralegal who valued appearances, had vanished weeks prior, only for divorce papers to appear. Soon after, my father dumped me at a bus station, tossing a few crumpled bills and driving off, telling me not to call him, even in an emergency. Hours passed, the cold seeping into my bones, every hopeful car not hers, until finally, it was my Grandma Rose who saved me, wrapping me in a hug that smelled of cinnamon and soap. But the truth soon crushed me: my mother hadn't wanted me, and my grandmother, with her meager social security, had to invent "gifts from your mom" to keep my hope alive. Just when I thought I had a haven, Brenda reappeared, engaged to a wealthy businessman, dragging me back into her world of superficiality and ridicule. Life with them became a new hell, culminating in a public slap from my mother for making her "look bad" and finally, being thrown out onto the street with nothing but a small bag. I walked for miles, desperate to get back to Grandma Rose, the only person who had ever truly loved me. And then, just weeks before my SATs, she collapsed, needing an expensive surgery my parents coldly refused to fund, forcing me to sacrifice my future for her. She passed, leaving me heartbroken, but also with a cold, clear rage burning inside me. When my mother brazenly reappeared after Grandma' s funeral, complaining about the "inconvenience" of her death and scoffing at my efforts, something inside me snapped. I was done being a victim. I stood up, my voice dangerously quiet, and told her to get out, but not before she paid what she owed me. I sued both my parents for years of neglect, studied relentlessly, and when I emerged as the state's top SAT scorer, exposing their hypocrisy to the world. Years later, as a successful investment banker, I faced them again, broken and desperate for money, and coolly repeated their own words back: "That's not my problem." Now, holding my daughter, Rose, a child I chose to have on my own terms, I realized I had not only broken the cycle but built a new legacy of unconditional love.
The Wine Cellar Wife

The Wine Cellar Wife

 Romance
5.0
I was nine months pregnant with twins, and my doctor gravely told me I needed an emergency C-section due to a life-threatening complication. My Hamptons mansion, built on the legacy of my husband Ethan' s old-money family, felt like a safe haven, especially after I saved his life from an F4 tornado. But as I drove home to tell him, I saw her car, Chloe' s sleek black Mercedes, parked outside. Chloe, his high school sweetheart, the "one that got away," had returned, claiming a fragile heart condition, and within moments, my urgent medical need was dismissed as "drama." Ethan, blinded by Chloe' s theatrics, accused me of seeking attention and brutally shoved me into the soundproof wine cellar, locking me in for three days to "teach me a lesson." Trapped and alone, my body began to fail, suffering a catastrophic uterine rupture as I fought to save our babies. My first twin, a tiny boy, was born still, lifeless in my arms, and then came the terrifying silence of my second child, lost before even drawing a breath. I bled to death on that cold, damp floor, clutching my stillborn son, realizing the man I loved had used my strength, my very resilience, to kill me. Three days later, my husband and his mistress were celebrating their engagement, completely unaware of the horror I endured, until my doctor, Marcus Vance, walked in, armed with the coroner's report and Chloe' s real medical history, ready to expose the truth to the entire Hamptons elite and the world.
The Royalty Trap: How I Beat My Killer Brother

The Royalty Trap: How I Beat My Killer Brother

 Modern
5.0
My brother, Derek, stood smirking by our dying father' s bed, demanding the records. He thought he was outsmarting me, believing they held the map to the fortune I' d made in my first life. I just shrugged, letting him snatch what he believed was the jackpot, while I "foolishly" accepted our dilapidated, lien-ridden house. He gloated, flashing his new sports car, convinced he was a millionaire. Meanwhile, debt collectors were banging on my door, threatening to seize the property Derek thought was worthless anyway. He laughed in my face, bragging about the fake demo tapes he'd dug up and sold for a fortune. I knew he was about to crash and burn, just like last time. But the injustice still burned. In my first life, his greed and jealousy didn' t just ruin him; they led him to murder me in cold blood. I remembered every detail, every agonizing second of his betrayal. But this time, I wasn't the naive fool. This time, I' d come prepared. Because when I opened my eyes again, waking up right here, at Dad's bedside, I knew exactly what was coming – and exactly what I needed to do.
A Thousand Years of Vengeance

A Thousand Years of Vengeance

 Fantasy
5.0
I, Selene, was a guardian of magic, my Lumina clan inextricably linked to the sacred Heartstone of Aethel. My life, though peaceful, was about to unravel. Without warning, the Heartstone vanished. In one brutal decree, my entire clan, my family, was executed for its theft. Only I, married to the revered High Councilor Orion, was seemingly "spared" – thrown instead into a thousand years of agonizing servitude as a human battery for the failing artifact. My body withered, but my spirit clung to life, fueled by pain. Then, Orion reappeared. He "saved" me, restoring my physical form and my innate Lumina magic. I, a fool, believed his love was real, a beacon of hope after a millennium of torment. But my savior was my executioner. I overheard him: Orion had orchestrated my clan's extermination as a convenient scapegoat for his mistress, Livia. My restored power? A mere gift for her Ascension, his new tool. Worst of all, he confessed with cruel apathy that he personally ordered the slaughter of my parents. He' d even woven an unbreakable enchantment into my very being, ensuring my eternal obedience and compliance. My love became a venomous rage. Rather than live as his puppet, I leaped into the Chasm of Oblivion, my physical body shattering to break his cursed charm. But death was not my end. Guided by my mother' s ancient locket, a forgotten beacon, I survived, emerging from that abyss not as a victim, but as a warrior reborn, ready to carve my reckoning.
Exposed: The Surgeon's Lie

Exposed: The Surgeon's Lie

 Romance
5.0
I lay on the gurney, body shattered in a pile-up, my baby coming too soon. Rushed to Northwood General, I found a small comfort knowing my husband, Ethan, the hospital's trauma surgeon, would be there. Then I saw him. Ethan. He knelt beside another gurney, his face etched with concern, but it wasn't for me-it was for my cousin, Jessica. My voice, a weak croak, was ignored as he prioritized her, dismissing me with a chilling, "My wife can wait." While I lay there, hemorrhaging, fighting for my life and my baby, he performed Jessica' s C-section. My world spun into darkness, my heart giving out repeatedly, but still, Ethan was with her. Waking up, I learned my tiny daughter, Lily, had barely survived. But instead of remorse, Ethan called to gleefully inform me he'd given our premature baby's vital, expensive formula to Jessica's child because Jessica was "stressed." He actually expected me to understand. The cold, calculated cruelty, his attempt to buy my silence for a TV interview, lit a fire where my hope once was. He wanted to parade his "heroism" on national television, built on my near-death and his active neglect? Fine. I had the recordings. And he had no idea what was coming.
When The Heiress Gets Dumped

When The Heiress Gets Dumped

 Billionaires
5.0
I, Chloe Kessler, heiress to a global hotel empire, was living incognito, sorting spreadsheets in a Charlotte marketing job. My boring, "normal" life and even my boyfriend, Marky, were part of this deliberate attempt to "learn the real world." Then came the shocking dinner. Marky dumped me, blurting out he' d gotten my co-worker, Jess, pregnant, and they were getting engaged. His subtle perfume? It reeked of Jess' s sickly sweet scent. But the real humiliation hit days later. Marky and Jess, his heavily pregnant fiancée clinging to his arm, cornered me publicly at my favorite coffee shop. Their outrageous demand? Reimbursement for Marky's every dating expense – an actual invoice for their infidelity, delivered with my betrayer's sickeningly sweet smile. My mind reeled. They had betrayed me, now they were trying to extort me for their affair. The sheer audacity, the unbelievable nerve of these two, was stunning. Did they truly not realize who they were messing with? My fury mixed with volcanic amusement. Enough was enough. Their greed was the final straw. I pulled out my sleek, black Amex Centurion Card and dialed my family' s top lawyer. It was time to pull back the curtain on my "normal" life and unleash the full force of a Kessler. And to appease my demanding father, I was about to propose a fake marriage to the last man I ever expected: my family' s fiercest rival.
Betrayed by Love, Forged by Billions

Betrayed by Love, Forged by Billions

 Sci-fi
5.0
I'm Ava Hayes, an artist from New York, thrust into the billionaire Ashworth family after miraculously discovering I'm the late tech mogul Michael Hayes's biological daughter. I craved belonging, but my adoptive sister, Chloe, greeted me with a cruel "nine strikes" game, systematically dismantling my life and all I held dear. Then came Ethan, a charming musician, who swept me off my feet, seeming to offer genuine love and acceptance. Chloe's final strike was offering Ethan a million dollars to abandon me publicly at a gala. His declaration, "I choose Ava," felt like my triumph, a moment of real hope finally. But that night, I overheard him: Ethan Vance, CEO of a rival empire, chillingly confessing I was just a pawn to provoke Chloe and secure his revenge against my father. He' d planned to force me into a sham marriage with a comatose man, only to "rescue" and control me later, along with my father's invaluable AI, AURORA. Every gentle touch, every sweet word, was a calculated lie. The man I trusted, who I thought loved me, casually ordered his men to let me get crushed under a falling chandelier, all to protect Chloe. Lying in my hospital bed, I heard him plotting my indefinite "indisposition" with Chloe, confirming their cold, shared villainy. The shame, the betrayal, fueled a new, searing rage I' d never known. I realized I wasn't just a victim anymore. I would take Chloe's place, marry the comatose Captain Riley, but purely on my terms. He thought he was playing chess, but I was about to turn the board over. My secret weapon: my father' s AI, AURORA, and the billions in inheritance I was now claiming, ready to fight back against everyone who had wronged me. This time, I was playing for keeps.
From Heartbreak to Heiress: A Philanthropist's Rise

From Heartbreak to Heiress: A Philanthropist's Rise

 Romance
5.0
Ethan Bishop promised me a future seven times. Seven times I pictured Napa weddings, picket fences, or at least a lease with both our names on it. And seven times, his college "one that got away," Olivia Hayes, would drift back into San Francisco, and Ethan would suddenly need "space" or declare it "bad timing." This time, he swore it would be different – a house in Mill Valley, a real future – once the funding round with Olivia's firm closed. Then he breezed in, buzzing about a "critical pre-meeting dinner" with her. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. I just pulled out the dusty cardboard box, already packed with every hopeful trinket, every broken promise. "It's yours," I said, my voice flat, placing it at his feet. He just scoffed. "Don't be dramatic." "We'll talk after this Olivia deal." "Gotta run, she's waiting." He didn't even look back. Seven times I'd been "a little overwhelmed" or "not used to this world," while he prioritized Olivia's comfort. The burning humiliation from a past public betrayal finally extinguished the last flicker of hope. This wasn't just another storm he could weather; it was the unequivocal end. That night, no more tears. The next morning, as he met with Olivia, convinced I was just "pouting," I called a moving company. I emptied my half of our apartment, leaving his favorite takeout menu-now useless to me. No note. Nothing left to say. Then, I dialed a number I hadn't called in over a decade: my Grandma Eleanor.
My Billionaire's Secret: A Dragon Heir

My Billionaire's Secret: A Dragon Heir

 Fantasy
5.0
Two pink lines on a pregnancy test shattered my ordinary barista life. Suddenly, I was Sarah Miller, supposedly carrying the heir to reclusive billionaire Alexander Blackwood, whisked away to his sprawling, cold mansion. Eighteen excruciating and baffling months later, the moment of truth arrived as I went into labor. But instead of a baby, I delivered a large, pulsating, iridescent egg. The delivery room erupted in chaos: doctors and nurses fainted, and the socialite who' d hated me shrieked about "poultry" and "bestiality." My parents looked utterly bewildered, while I lay there, staring in horrified disbelief at the impossible, shimmering egg. What had just happened? Was I going insane? Was this some cruel, cosmic joke played on the unsuspecting barista? Then, Alexander Blackwood, usually so stoic, looked at the egg with reverence. "Just like my ancestors described," he whispered, revealing an ancient, secret lineage of Dragon-kin. My life, I realized, was about to become anything but ordinary, as I was plunged headfirst into a world of hidden magic, with a dragon king and two special eggs as my unexpected destiny.
Showing off His Fated Love

Showing off His Fated Love

 Romance
5.0
I dreamed of my ideal guy, but when I opened my eyes, I found that he was the Christopher I usually can't stand. As I gradually opened my heart, he revealed that he was in a relationship. Furious, I went to catch him cheating, but he cornered me step by step and pushed me onto the bed. "Take a good look—do I have any kiss marks?" "Touch my face—are there any lipstick stains?" Huh? Why is this jerk only bringing up things I don't want to see?