Falcon's Fury: The Heiress Returns

The Genius Wife He Never Cherished

I gave up my architecture dream and my entire inheritance to help Garrison build his law firm, reducing myself to a glorified maid in his home for five years. But the night my mother lay dying in the hospital, Garrison didn't come. Instead, I saw him on the news, proposing to his mistress, Kayla, with a diamond ring bought with my savings. When I confronted them, Garrison didn't apologize. Instead, he forced me to sign my 15% stake in the company over to Kayla for zero dollars. He claimed she needed "security" because she was fragile. Even when I threw the toxicology report at him, proving Kayla had poisoned my mother with arsenic to get her out of the way, Garrison covered it up to save his precious merger. He looked me in the eye and told me to apologize to the woman who murdered my mother. That was the moment Janet Gardner died. I signed the papers, threw the divorce agreement in his face, and vanished into the night without a trace. Three years later, at a prestigious art gallery in Paris, a gaunt, broken man fell to his knees in front of the famous artist "Jane." Garrison wept, clutching the hem of my dress, begging for my forgiveness. I looked down at my ex-husband with a polite, empty smile. "I'm sorry, sir. Do I know you?"

Mafia Princess: Escaping His Deadly Lie

For three years, a rare liver disease has been killing me. Through it all, my husband Julian has been my rock. Our last hope was a black-market liver, secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva. But from my hospital bed, I overheard him promise that very liver to another woman. It was for his mistress's mother. I soon discovered he had a four-year-old daughter with her. Their family was established; I was just the placeholder. On a hidden security feed, I watched him in my dead parents' penthouse—a sacred place he forbade me from visiting—bouncing their child on his knee. Then he fastened the diamond necklace he'd bought for my birthday around his mistress's neck. The final blow came when I heard her whisper, "Just a little longer... the fever will do the rest." He wasn't just leaving me. He was actively trying to kill me. The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned to a cold, hard stone in my chest. The man whose devotion I never questioned now made my skin crawl with revulsion. The next morning, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I left my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the entryway table, blocked his number, and walked out of our house without looking back.

Love's Betrayal, A Mother's Vow

Ava stepped off the jet, eager to finally hug her daughter, Lily, after eighteen months away on a critical mission. A familiar face, her handler, handed her a tablet, saying, "Welcome home, Ava. Everything is ready for your debriefing tomorrow. Tonight is yours." Her eyes immediately landed on a headline: "Tech Prodigy Lily Thorne Exposed as Fraud, Groundbreaking AI Code Auctioned Off by Estranged Husband Mark Vance." And then the photo. Lily, bound to a chair on a brightly lit stage, her face pale, a mixture of shock and utter devastation. Her estranged son-in-law, Mark Vance, stood beside a woman Ava didn' t recognize-his new fiancée, Chloe. He was sneering into the camera, declaring Lily would be finished, blacklisted, her future one of "menial jobs and constant public humiliation." The tablet shattered in Ava' s hand, cracks spiderwebbing across the screen. Her blood ran cold. The rage was a physical force, shimmering in the air around her. How could he do this? How could a man she once trusted betray her daughter so completely, so publicly? This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an execution. "The mission isn' t over," Ava declared, her voice unnaturally calm, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the horrified handler. "It just began."

Reclaiming Life, Finding Love

The paper in my hand felt like a death sentence: glioblastoma, an aggressive brain tumor. That same day, my estranged wife, Chloe, flashed across my laptop screen, pregnant with another man' s child, her new partner, Mark Jensen, by her side. Before I could even process the betrayal, my five-year-old son, Liam, shattered my phone, screaming, "I hate you!", his loyalty already shifted to Chloe' s new family. Later that day, a venomous spider bite and a brutal car crash-orchestrated by Chloe herself-left me clinging to life, only for her and Mark to attempt to block my treatment at the hospital, almost succeeding. They dragged me from my hospital bed, still recovering, and locked me in my own basement, binding me to a chair. Forced to confess to lies I never spoke, I endured their physical and emotional torment, my own son throwing a toy car at my face. Every word they spoke, every blow they landed, twisted the knife of injustice deeper, making me question how the woman I loved and the child I adored could become my tormentors. My world was crumbling, everything I built stripped away by those closest to me, leaving me utterly alone and broken. But then, a new doctor, Evelyn Reed, emerged, a beacon of hope against the darkness, a promise that this nightmare, and the lies that fueled it, would finally be exposed.

The Night They Buried Me Alive

The yacht bucked like a wild beast in the Lake Michigan storm, and my family faced a terrible choice. There were only two spots left on the rescue boat, and my father didn' t hesitate: "Caleb, get in. Grab the dog." They chose my adopted brother, the "good luck charm," and my mother' s prized show dog over me, yelling for me to swim to a non-existent marina. My fiancée, Molly, was already gone, announcing her engagement to Caleb on the evening news before they even knew if I was dead or alive. When I finally dragged myself back, barely clinging to life, I was met not with relief, but with rage and disgust. My "brother" Caleb, the perfect son, framed me for theft, and my parents, the people who were supposed to love me, forced me to strip naked in front of their staff, searching for something I didn't steal. How could my own family do this? How could they betray me so completely, not just once, but again and again, pushing me to the absolute breaking point? That day, as I walked away, leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, I wasn't just leaving a house; I was severing a destiny. I was done being Ethan Duncan, the cursed son; now, I would simply become Ethan, and I would build a life so strong, so independent, that their world would crumble without me.

Beyond The Pep Rally Humiliation

My name is Maya Rodriguez, and I pretty much live at WOLF Radio, spinning indie tracks and secretly nursing a hopeless crush on Ethan Miller, our university' s star quarterback. He' s that guy – popular, talented, and completely out of my league. Then came Homecoming. A text from my best friend shattered my world: Ethan was about to ask Chloe Davis, the campus queen, to the Ball. And he was going to do it using my microphones! My stomach clenched. I had to stop him. In a panic, I recorded a voice note to Liv: "Liv, I have to stop this! I can't let him use the WOLF Radio mic to ask Chloe! You know how I feel about Ethan!" But a forgotten Bluetooth connection turned my private confession into a public announcement, booming across the entire stadium. The mortified silence, then the gasps and laughter. My deepest secret, broadcast to thousands. I wanted to die. Chaos. Humiliation. How could my mistake be so catastrophic? I was the invisible sound tech, always behind the scenes. This was beyond anything I could imagine. The star quarterback, frozen on the field, looking directly at me. But then the impossible happened: Ethan sought me out. He wasn't angry. He was oddly amused. He revealed a massive misunderstanding – the proposal wasn't for Chloe, or even for him. My public humiliation was all for nothing. Or was it? What exactly was the campus heartthrob doing, being so incredibly kind to the girl who just declared her crush to the whole school?

Her Marriage Was A Lie, Her Happy Ending Wasn't

Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company. But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along. When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend." Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival. When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate. "She's already married—to me."

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Burned By Him, Reborn A Star

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

Irresistible Seduction: Married For Deception, Loved For Real

Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."

I Hid His Heir from My Alpha

For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.