The Bracelet He Bought For Two

His Unwanted Mate: The White Wolf Awakens

For five years, I suppressed my Royal White Wolf bloodline to be Sam’s "Chosen Mate," waiting for a Mark that never came. I cut ties with my powerful family, accepting a paper certificate instead of a soul bond, all because I loved him. But my sacrifice meant nothing. Sam brought his mistress, Lily, and a child into our pack house, forcing me to accept them. He claimed the child was his because I was "barren," humiliating me to protect his fragile ego. The betrayal turned deadly over breakfast. Lily laced my food with Wolfsbane, then slashed her own chest to frame me. When Sam rushed in, he didn't check the facts. He pinned me against the wall by my throat, ignoring my swelling airways as the poison took hold. "If she dies, you die." He threw me to the floor like garbage and rushed his mistress to the hospital, leaving me to suffocate alone. I had to crawl to my room, clawing at the floor tiles, to reach the antidote my father had given me years ago. As I retched up the toxin, the last of my love for him was purged along with it. I stood up and walked to the backyard rose garden—the symbol of our marriage. I doused it in gasoline and struck a match. Before the Royal Guards arrived to take me home, I pinned a rejection letter to the front door with a dagger. "I reject you, Sam. And by the way, check your old medical files. You’re the one who is sterile."

Married To The Wolf: My Ruthless Revenge

My fiancé Javen sent me to a yacht in the middle of a New York storm to finalize a high-stakes merger with Alfonse Wolfe, a billionaire rumored to have ice water in his veins. I did it for "us," shivering in a soaked evening gown and cutting my hand on broken glass just to get the signature that would save Javen’s company. But when I rushed back to the Doyle estate, the manor was blazing with lights for an unannounced engagement party. Javen wasn't waiting for me with open arms; he was standing on the dance floor with Blossom Vega, the daughter of his biggest competitor, announcing their union to the elite of New York. When I stepped forward, dripping blood and water onto the marble floor, Javen didn't try to protect me. He looked at me with pure disgust and told the gathered press that I was a "charity case" suffering from mental delusions. His mother laughed while calling me a cockroach, and his father claimed my family’s lost fortune was a hallucination. To ensure my silence, Javen leaned in and whispered that he would pull the plug on my disabled brother’s life-saving medical care if I didn't disappear. I was hauled away by security and locked in a dark storage room like a stain on his perfect evening. I lay there in the dust, unable to process how twelve years of love could be a calculated lie. How could the man I was supposed to marry use my brother’s breath as a bargaining chip after I had just sacrificed everything to save him? I escaped through a second-story window and went straight to the only predator powerful enough to tear the Doyles apart: Alfonse Wolfe. I didn't just ask for sanctuary; I demanded a marriage license to unlock my mother’s secret trust and protect my brother. Standing in a high-security vault as the new Mrs. Wolfe, I discovered a truth that changed the game. I didn’t just have the money to ruin Javen; the deed in my hand proved I now owned the very land beneath Alfonse’s mansion. "I’m not the prey anymore," I whispered, watching the Doyle stock plummet on my phone. "I'm the hunter."

The Secret Princess: Her Revenge On The Alpha

For the ninety-ninth time, I stood alone at the altar in a polyester dress I bought from a clearance rack, waiting for a Mating Ceremony that would never happen. Alpha Damian didn't show up. Instead, a photo popped up in the pack group chat showing him feeding strawberries to Hadley, the woman claiming to be his savior. He called my scars repulsive, never knowing that the mangled flesh on my back was the price I paid to pull his paralyzed body from a fire. I drained my White Wolf blood for five years to heal his crushed spine, losing my ability to shift, only for him to treat me like a slave in his own house. But the final straw wasn't the humiliation. It was when my adoptive father had a heart attack in the driveway. I begged Damian for help. Instead of calling a doctor, he tossed my car keys into a sewer filled with sludge and laughed, watching my father take his last breath because I "needed to learn a lesson in obedience." Staring at my father's lifeless body, the love I held for five years turned into cold ash. I looked at the Alpha who thought he was a King, and I picked up the phone to dial a number I hadn't used since I was a Princess. "Come get me, brother," I told the Lycan King on the other end. "I'm done playing the maid. We are burning this pack to the ground tonight."

His Regret, Our Irrevocable Goodbye

, I am Colleen Hoover, and I am ready to write. This story will be an emotional surgery, raw and direct, for the American woman who craves that gut-wrenching, heart-healing journey. Let's begin. I married a man haunted by the ghost of his dead son. I gave him a new son, Leo, and foolishly believed our love could heal his shattered past. But then the ghost came back to life. His ex-wife, Georgia, returned with wide, innocent eyes and a diagnosis of trauma-induced amnesia. Suddenly, my husband was walking on eggshells around the woman who broke him, while our son and I became background noise in her twisted play. The day he chose her was the day he destroyed us. After Georgia framed our five-year-old for desecrating his dead brother's memorial, my husband, Calvin, snapped. He grabbed Leo's arm and twisted it until I heard a sickening pop. As I lay on the floor bleeding, I watched him cradle Georgia, whispering comforts while our son screamed in agony. Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine, filled not with confusion, but with pure, triumphant malice. He had made his choice. Now, I would make mine. My fingers, sticky with my own blood, dialed 911. "I need an ambulance," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "And I need the police."

The Den's Secret: A Bride's Fury

Seven days before my wedding, an anonymous email led me to a members-only site called "The Den." The video was raw and explicit. The man in the wolf mask, with his familiar jawline and confident movements, was my fiancé, Damon. But the true gut punch was recognizing the woman with him: my best friend and maid of honor, Katina. Their betrayal escalated into a nightmare-a staged car accident that cost me our unborn child. I soon discovered Damon never loved me; he'd proposed only for my family's connections to fund his startup. My entire world wasn't just a lie; it was a cold, calculated scheme that had left me broken and childless. They thought they had taken everything from me. They were wrong. They had just given me a reason to burn their world to the ground.

He Stole My Womb, Lost All

My fiancé, Kayson, became my hero after he brutally avenged the miscarriage caused by his ex-wife. He had her face branded and her legs broken, all for the child she made me lose. I believed he was my savior. But on our wedding eve, I found him holding her. She was pregnant with his child, and their entire affair was a lie staged to fool me. He confessed the worst part: after my miscarriage, he had my womb secretly transplanted into her, making me barren forever. To punish me for discovering his secret, he threw me into a room of savage men to be assaulted, leaving me for dead. He thought he was destroying a helpless victim. He had no idea he was awakening the long-lost daughter of a family so powerful they could crush his empire with a single phone call. As their hands tore at my clothes, I calmly pressed the panic button on my bracelet. My real fiancé was on his way.

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Best Friend Divorced Me When I Carried His Baby

Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation. Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart. Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly. *** Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned. She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby. *** Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself. But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on? To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his. *** Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother? How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"

His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.