Fall Under Your Spell

Claimed By My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

I spent our third anniversary alone in our penthouse, adjusting a white rose and waiting for a man who didn't want to come home. When my fiancé, Chris Osborne, finally arrived, he didn't notice the 1982 Lafite or the dinner I’d prepared. He looked at me with disgust, calling my desire for a wedding date "pressure" before storming out to a private club. I followed him, hiding behind a marble pillar at The Vault as I recorded his voice on my phone. He was laughing with his friends about a $20 million bet. He called me a "boring ice queen" and a "marble statue," explaining that he only needed to keep me around until the merger closed so he could steal my shares and "cut me loose." To make it worse, my own father was in on it, prioritizing his stock price over his daughter's life. Broken and barefoot in a torrential Manhattan downpour, I sought refuge at the Four Seasons. I collapsed into the arms of a tall, dangerous-looking stranger and begged him to take me upstairs. I wanted to be erased, to forget the transaction my life had become. After a night of salt and desperation, I left my engagement ring on his nightstand as payment for services rendered and fled. The next morning, I realized I had jumped from the frying pan into the furnace. My "stranger" wasn't a nobody. He was Gallagher Osborne—the ruthless patriarch of the family and my fiancé’s uncle. He tracked me to a private clinic, trapping me in a room while holding my medical file and the ring I’d discarded. He told me I was his now, and that he’d dismantle Chris piece by piece if I didn't comply. I was a piece of currency to my father, a bet to my fiancé, and a prize to his uncle. I had no allies, no escape, and no mercy left. I realized that being the "perfect daughter" had only made me a target. If they wanted to play games with the "Ice Queen," I decided to give them a frostbite they would never forget. I trashed my art gallery, backdated a diagnosis for a psychotic break, and sent a cryptic suicide note to Chris. As Gallagher watched from the shadows and Chris panicked over his investment, I began the process of scorching the earth. The merger was still happening, but I wasn't the bride anymore—I was the wrecking ball.

Too Late, Mr. Don: The Wife You Buried

I went to the family lawyer for a routine travel clearance. Instead, I was handed a divorce decree. The ink was three years old. While I had been playing the role of the dutiful Capo's wife, Dante had secretly divorced me the day after our fifth anniversary. Twenty-four hours later, he legally married the nanny, Gia, and named her cruel-eyed son as his heir. I returned home to confront him, only for the boy to throw boiling tomato soup on me. Dante didn't check my burns. He cradled the boy and looked at me with pure, drug-fueled hatred, calling me a monster for upsetting his "son." The final blow came in a parking garage. A car sped toward us. Dante didn't pull me to safety. He shoved me into the vehicle's path, using my body as a human shield to protect his mistress. Lying broken on the asphalt, I realized Aria Vitiello was already dead to him. So, I decided to make it official. I arranged a private flight over the Atlantic and ensured there were no survivors. By the time Dante was weeping over the wreckage, realizing too late that he had been poisoned against me, I was already in France. The Canary was dead. The Reaper had risen.

My Body, Their Betrayal: A Political Game

I thought my pregnancy was the culmination of our love. But it was just a calculated move in my husband's political game. A surrogacy agreement on his laptop revealed the horrifying truth. The contract stated that after his election, custody of my baby would be transferred to my unstable sister, Britni. I overheard them all-my husband, my sister, and even my own parents-discussing the plan. They called me a "walking incubator," a strategic asset with "perfect genetics" for their campaign narrative. My life wasn't a love story; it was a transaction. They had turned my body into a political tool and planned to steal my child. The trusting woman I was died that night, replaced by a cold, calculated strategist ready for war. They thought they had me trapped, a perfect prop for their perfect family. But they made a fatal mistake. I walked into a clinic and made a choice that was mine alone, severing the last tie that bound me to their monstrous ambition. Then, I picked up the phone and called the one journalist who could burn their entire world to the ground.

Too Late For Your Forgiveness Now

My throat was closing up, anaphylactic shock setting in from the peanuts my half-sister, Kecia, had hidden in the macaron. But Jonathan didn't call 911. He rolled his eyes, called me "dramatic," and handed Kecia my late mother's vintage Cartier bracelet-the one heirloom I had left-just to comfort her. I woke up in the ER alone, only to find my father had sold me off to save his company. I was forced to marry Gage Sawyer, the "Sleeping Prince," a man rumored to be in a permanent vegetative state. Jonathan stayed with Kecia, believing her lie that she was his childhood savior. He didn't know I was the one who saved him years ago. He didn't care that she tried to kill me. But on my wedding day, as I stood by the altar ready to sign my life away, my comatose groom suddenly squeezed my hand. Gage Sawyer was wide awake, and he wanted revenge just as much as I did. When Jonathan finally learned the truth and crashed the wedding begging for forgiveness, I looked him dead in the eye. "You're trespassing, Mr. Chavez." "I'm Mrs. Sawyer now."

Unwanted Mate: The Rise of the Silver Healer

Five years ago, I poured my rare Silver Essence into Alpha Damien’s dying body, nearly sacrificing my own life to stitch his fatal wounds. But when he woke up, Seraphina was the one sitting by his bedside with a wet cloth. He assumed she was his savior, and she never corrected him. Now, three weeks before our Mating Ceremony, Damien brought her into our home. She was pregnant, and she was wearing his bite mark. "It is a Life Debt, Isla," Damien told me, his voice devoid of warmth. "She saved me. The Elders invoked the statute. You will accept this." He moved her into the penthouse meant for us. He demanded I use my healing gifts to tend to his mistress and their "miracle" heir. I became a ghost in my own pack, forced to watch my Fated Mate shower her with the love that belonged to me. He even ordered me to publicly apologize to her for my "jealousy." But as I reviewed her medical file, I found the truth he was too blind to see. The fetus was six weeks old. He had only marked her three weeks ago. And her energy levels? Non-existent. She didn't have a drop of healing magic in her blood. Damien thought I was preparing for our wedding. Instead, I picked up a red marker and crossed out the date on the calendar. On the morning of the ceremony, while he waited at the altar, I answered his frantic call. "I, Isla, reject you, Damien." It was time he learned exactly what he had thrown away.

A Doctor's Fall, A Mafia Queen's Rise

My husband, a Mafia Underboss, built me a perfect life. I was the Chief Resident at a top hospital, the accomplished Dr. Falcone. But my world shattered when a woman brought her four-year-old son to my clinic. The boy had a rare genetic allergy—one that runs only in my family. On his intake form, his father’s name was listed as "Emilio Thomas," my husband's secret middle name. Then, my husband’s voice came through the woman’s phone, and I saw him pick them up from my office window, a perfect, secret family. That night, at our family's most important gala, the boy ran up to me, screaming, "You're the bad lady trying to take my daddy away!" The crowd turned on me, whispering that I was the other woman. On the boy's wrist was the custom bracelet I gave my husband on our first anniversary. When I reached for it, Emilio shoved me. I hit my head on a table, and a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen as blood soaked my dress. I lost the baby I didn't even know I was carrying—the legitimate Moretti heir. My husband turned his back on me, leaving with his other family as I bled on the ballroom floor. He never visited me in the hospital. His mistress, Hayden, did. She gloated that she’d planned it all, and that Emilio swore he'd never have another child after their son was born. I was just a barren, placeholder wife. But this was more than a betrayal; it was a declaration of war. That night, I stared at two pink lines on a pregnancy test I’d taken before the gala. I was six weeks pregnant with the true Moretti heir, and now, I had a weapon.

The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think

Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"

Diamond In Disguise: Now Watch Me Shine

Elena, once a pampered heiress, suddenly lost everything when the real daughter framed her, her fiancé ridiculed her, and her adoptive parents threw her out. They all wanted to see her fall. But Elena unveiled her true identity: the heiress of a massive fortune, famed hacker, top jewelry designer, secret author, and gifted doctor. Horrified by her glorious comeback, her adoptive parents demanded half her newfound wealth. Elena exposed their cruelty and refused. Her ex pleaded for a second chance, but she scoffed, "Do you think you deserve it?" Then a powerful magnate gently proposed, "Marry me?"

Reborn Heiress: The Wolf's Vengeance Deal

I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

When Love Is A Lie

Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"

Invisible To Her Bully

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.