When Love Becomes Torture

My Rebirth: A Billionaire's Sweet Vow

In my last life, my fiancé and stepsister stole my company and left me for dead. Now, reborn, I have to watch it all happen again. At a lavish ball, Christian publicly humiliates me, flaunting his affair with my stepsister, Genevieve. They think I'm the same weak woman who will crumble. Genevieve even steals the one proposal that could save my mother's legacy, texting me that I'll end up with nothing. At a family dinner, Christian tries to force my hand, falsely announcing we're already married to secure his position. He expects me to play along in front of the one man who could change everything: the legendary tech titan, Immanuel Romero. But I refuse. When Christian grabs me in a rage, a powerful hand stops him. Immanuel Romero steps between us, his voice like ice. "Never touch her again." Then, he looks at the stunned room and makes an announcement that shatters their entire plan. "Eliana is my fiancée."

His Cold Revenge, A Hidden Love

For three years, I made my husband, Kane Chandler's, life a living hell. The day my family went bankrupt, he became a billionaire and handed me divorce papers. "My true love has returned," he said coldly. "I have no more use for you." To save my desperate family, I was forced to accept his cruel offer: become his live-in mistress. I had to serve him and his perfect new girlfriend, Astrid, in the penthouse that was once my home, enduring his cold, calculated revenge every single day. But then I stumbled upon a devastating secret. His "true love" Astrid was secretly plotting with his brother, Cade-the man I once adored-to destroy him from the inside. Astrid begged me to steal a file from Kane's safe, claiming it was the only way to save him from blackmail. I agreed, ready to sacrifice myself to set him free. I never imagined this was the final move in a twisted, three-year-long test of love he had designed just for me.

From Heiress to Hellbent

I was the fiancée of Bryant Barnes, the cold heir to a tech empire. Our engagement was a dynastic merger, a picture-perfect lie splashed across magazines. But behind closed doors, our life was a bizarre war fought with money and public humiliation. The war turned brutal when his mistress, Kalia, broke into our home with her friends and had me beaten, stomping on my hand until it broke. I pressed charges, but when Bryant arrived at the police station, he took one look at my bruised face and walked past me to comfort a sobbing Kalia. "Don't make a scene, Charlotte," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. He had them released without a second thought. The final betrayal came when Kalia pulled me into a lake. I can't swim. Bryant dove in, swam right past me to save her, and turned his back as I sank beneath the water, leaving me to die. A stranger pulled me out. In that moment, I finally understood. It wasn't that he was incapable of love; he was just incapable of loving me. For the one he loved, he would destroy anyone. For the one he didn't, he would leave her for dead. The last embers of my foolish love turned to ash. Lying in my hospital bed, I took out my phone and called the one man who had ever shown me kindness. "Jaden," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to burn it all to the ground."

My House, My Revenge

Six months after losing my husband, Mark, I was a ghost in my own life, scrolling through Instagram when a photo ripped me from my numbness. It was Chloe' s account, a former intern I' d mentored, but the background-our living room. My living room. Only it wasn' t. The minimalist haven I designed was desecrated by gaudy gold wallpaper, a hideous leopard-print sofa, and a cheap crystal chandelier. Strangers laughed, red plastic cups in hand, in the space Mark and I built as a testament to our love. The house, bleeding, was screaming. Chloe was at its center, champagne flute in hand, her arm around David, Mark' s business partner. My husband' s friend. He smiled smugly, possessively, kissing her cheek. The caption: "New beginnings in our new home! Out with the old, in with the new! #blessed #bosslife." Our new home? My blood ran cold. My kitchen, painted garish pink. My garden, a frat house with a hot tub and beer bottles. They had taken my sanctuary, our legacy, and turned it into a mockery. The rage arrived like a physical blow, a hot spike in my chest. My hands shook, but my mind was terrifyingly clear. I called David. "What the hell are you and Chloe doing in my house?" His slick, unbothered voice, punctuated by Chloe' s infuriating giggle, coolly informed me Mark had signed everything over to him. It was his house now. His company. All perfectly legal. "People do strange things when the end is near," he sneered, dismissing Mark as a mere business transaction. He hung up, leaving me with the silence screaming in my ears. Just a house. It wasn' t just a house. It was my life. The last piece of Mark. And they had taken it, desecrated it, and were laughing. The grief that had fogged my world for six months burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. They thought I was beaten, a grieving widow easily pushed aside. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I am a brilliant architect. I am meticulous. I see the flaws in every design, the stress points in every structure. And I designed that house. They' d started a war. I was going to finish it.

Framed by My Best Friend

My life was finally mending after the nightmare that shattered everything. I was rebuilding my academic career, my family was recovering, and my fiancé, David, and I were slowly piecing our lives back together. Then, a text message flashed across my phone, sending a shot of ice through my veins: a seemingly innocent invitation from my old friend, Kate, to a university exhibit preview. My stomach clenched, remembering the chilling déjà vu. Last time, that exact invitation led to a priceless historical artifact appearing in my bag, my academic dreams dissolving into dust. It cost my parents their retirement savings, tarnished David’s promising career, and culminated with me bleeding out, left for dead in a desolate parking lot by a deranged fanatic. I knew this was the trap again, meticulously set. How could I possibly prove my innocence when the truth had failed me before? But I wasn’t the naive victim I once was. This time, I had a plan, born from the bitter ashes of my past. I made a desperate, calculated choice: I got intentionally drunk and drove. The flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror were a grim confirmation of my sacrifice, my pre-planned alibi. They would arrest me, document my whereabouts, miles away and undeniably off-campus when the theft surely occurred. This time, the system couldn't use me. This time, I would fight back to expose the real mastermind, no matter the cost.

Fiancé to Fiend, Sister to Slayer

Locked away in a mental health center, my only window to the outside was a rickety tablet. I watched, hopeful, as my sister Chloe walked down the aisle, her smile a burst of sunlight on her wedding day. But the joyful scene shattered in an instant. A woman, face grotesquely scarred, shrieked venomous accusations about Chloe ruining her life. Without a word of defense, her fiancé Mark, twisted with rage, slapped Chloe across the face, declared her "poison," and had her violently dragged away to a sinister "farm" for "purification." The livestream cut out, leaving me in stunned silence. Then came Mom’s call, her voice a thin, broken wire: Chloe was gone. Dead. An "accident" at that farm, they said, left without medical help. When Mom tried to get answers, Mark’s men beat her and threw her out. My sister, the kindest soul, was brutally taken from us. Chloe, gone due to such callous cruelty and calculated neglect? The unbearable injustice, the suffocating grief, sparked a suppressed fury I’d carried for years. They called me dangerous, diagnosed me with an explosive disorder, and for years, I'd fought it. But now, that dark fire felt like the only truth. No longer fighting my demons, I unleashed them. In a cold, calculated move, I forced my way out of that institution, leaving chaos in my wake. The cool Oregon air hit my face, carrying the scent of impending rain and undeniable revenge. My sister deserved justice, and I was going to deliver it, no matter the cost.

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.

My Husband's Affair, My Anniversary Gift

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

The Scars She Hid From The World

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.