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My 21st birthday was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a display of family pride and wealth as I chose my future husband. But a horrifying secret simmered beneath the celebratory facade: I was reliving my life, and this very day, my previous choice of fiancé, Ethan Vanderbilt III, had led to my family's empire crumbling and their agonizing death in a fiery jet crash. The chilling memory of their screams, the inferno, and the realization that Ethan's charm was nothing but a weapon, clawed at my sanity. How could I possibly explain to my loving, unaware parents that their perfect daughter had already lived a nightmare version of this life, where their trust in me-and my choice-had damned us all? Trapped by a past only I remembered, with the venomous name of Ethan Vanderbilt still lurking on my pre-approved marriage list, I made a radical, desperate decision: I would choose a man entirely outside his orbit, defying fate and claiming my second chance to keep my family safe.
My 21st birthday was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a display of family pride and wealth as I chose my future husband.
But a horrifying secret simmered beneath the celebratory facade: I was reliving my life, and this very day, my previous choice of fiancé, Ethan Vanderbilt III, had led to my family's empire crumbling and their agonizing death in a fiery jet crash.
The chilling memory of their screams, the inferno, and the realization that Ethan's charm was nothing but a weapon, clawed at my sanity.
How could I possibly explain to my loving, unaware parents that their perfect daughter had already lived a nightmare version of this life, where their trust in me-and my choice-had damned us all?
Trapped by a past only I remembered, with the venomous name of Ethan Vanderbilt still lurking on my pre-approved marriage list, I made a radical, desperate decision: I would choose a man entirely outside his orbit, defying fate and claiming my second chance to keep my family safe.
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Modern
A suggestive iMessage on the family iPad was the first crack in my perfect life. I thought my teenage son was in trouble, but anonymous Reddit users pointed out the chilling truth. The message wasn't for him. It was for my husband of twenty years, Anthony. The betrayal became a conspiracy when I overheard them talking. They were laughing about his affair with my son's "cool" school counselor. "She's just so... boring, Dad," my son said. "Why don't you just leave Mom and be with her?" My son didn't just know; he was rooting for my replacement. My perfect family was a lie, and I was the punchline. Then, a message from a lawyer on Reddit lit a fire in the wreckage of my heart. "Gather proof. Then burn his entire world to the ground." My fingers were steady as I typed back. "Tell me how."
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Romance
My husband of five years, Mark, told me he was taking me on a romantic clifftop picnic. He poured me a glass of champagne, his smile as warm as the sun. He said it was to celebrate our life together. But as I admired the view, his hands slammed into my back. The world dissolved into a blur of sky and rock as I plunged toward the ravine below. I woke up broken and bleeding, just in time to hear his voice above. He wasn't alone. It was his mistress, Chloe. "Is she... gone?" she asked. "She fell a long way," Mark's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "No one could survive that. By the time they find the body, it'll look like a tragic accident. Poor, unstable Clara, wandering too close to the edge." The casual cruelty of his words was worse than the impact. He had already written my obituary, crafting the narrative of my demise while leaving me to die in the storm. A wave of despair washed over me, but then something else ignited: a white-hot, furious anger. Just as my vision started to fade, headlights sliced through the rain. A man stepped out of a luxury car. It wasn't Mark. It was Julian Thorne, my husband's most hated rival, and the one man who might want Mark destroyed as much as I did.
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Billionaires
The sharp, shattering pain was familiar. This was the eighth time. The eighth baby. My husband, Ethan, the perfect CEO, held my hand as grief suffocated me in the hospital bed. He looked like the picture of a devastated spouse. But then, I heard voices from the hallway-Ethan' s and the doctor' s. "Mr. Hayes, why insist on… eliminating the one in your wife's belly? It's your own child!" the doctor strained. "Scarlett is particular, and she has needs. This is the safest method," Ethan replied, chillingly calm. Scarlett. His proclaimed "childhood friend." The words didn't make sense until their horrifying truth crashed down: my miscarriages weren't accidents. They were harvests, orchestrated by my loving husband to feed his mistress' s mysterious medical condition. My love for him curdled into black hatred, my grief for our children blazing into a white-hot rage. I was an architect who designed buildings to withstand earthquakes; I wouldn't crumble. I closed my eyes, feigning sorrow, but inside, a new blueprint for revenge was being drawn. Then I heard the doctor's terrified whisper: "And the hysterectomy? Paralysis? Ethan, that's going too far. She's your wife." His voice, devoid of emotion, cut through the haze: "She's too strong-willed. This will keep her safe. And quiet." They were going to gut me, cripple me, take everything. They had no idea what they had just created. Later, I overheard Ethan on the phone again, his voice a low murmur: "She's sedated. You can proceed with the surgery. The hysterectomy first. And make sure the nerve block is permanent. I don't want any surprises." Hysterectomy. Permanent. You bastard, Ethan, I thought as darkness pulled me under. You' re not just taking my children. You' re taking my future. You' re taking my body. But you haven' t taken my mind. And it will be the instrument of your destruction.
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Modern
The champagne shimmered, my fiancé Daniel was by my side, and my parents, pillars of the tech world, beamed with pride. It was my engagement day, perfect as a movie scene. Then, the screens behind us, meant for happy memories, flared to life with my face, but not my body-a horrifying deepfake, accompanied by a torrent of our company' s most intimate client data, all pinned on my mother. The ballroom erupted. Whispers turned to shouts, Daniel recoiled as if burned, and my mother, the renowned ethicist, was swarmed by reporters, branded a fraud and criminal. My father, director of Miller Security, clutched his chest, watching his wife' s ruin and his daughter' s humiliation before collapsing-dead, on the polished floor. The Vance family patriarch declared our engagement off, leaving me standing alone, my world shattered into a million pieces. In ten minutes, I lost everything: my reputation, my family, my future, and my father's life. Three years later, I was married to Ethan Vance, Daniel' s brother, a man I believed was my savior, gently rebuilding my life in a quiet, gilded cage. Until I overheard a chilling conversation between Ethan and his best friend, Mark. "Shouldn't you take down those awful deepfakes? Now that Tiffany is happily integrated into your family, why keep tormenting Chloe?" Mark' s voice was laced with anger I'd never heard. Ethan's reply, calm and cold, made my blood run cold: "The Miller family's influence was too strong. As long as they were respected, how could Tiffany feel secure?" My parents, his mentors, had been destroyed for Tiffany, Daniel's new wife. Every tender word, every protective gesture from Ethan had been a carefully orchestrated lie. My husband, my rescuer, was the monster who had meticulously planned my family' s ruin and profited from my humiliation. I had been sleeping beside my father' s murderer for three years. The realization hit me like a physical blow, stripping away every illusion. I had to make him pay for everything he had done.
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Romance
The long shadows of the late afternoon stretch across my perfectly curated living room, a silent testament to the lie my life has become. My husband, Liam, a rising star, values perfection-a facade we' ve painstakingly built. Our marriage is a stable, respectable union on paper, a performance, with me, a talented architect, as his willing partner. Then he died, swiftly, unexpectedly, at forty-five. Buried within his belongings, a locked box in his study, I found it: the truth. Letters, photographs-a hidden life with Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, his true love for decades. My entire marriage, my twenty years, was an elaborate charade for his reputation. The pain was a physical entity, suffocating, extinguishing my will to live. I died too, then woke up. Not in a hospital, not in an afterlife, but here, in this cold house, two years into my marriage, twenty-four again. The ghost of a twenty-year lie lived inside me, but it brought a cold, hard resolve. I would not let it happen again, not waste another two decades as a supporting character. I will live for myself this time. The key in the lock, Liam' s flat voice: "I'm home." This time, I remained seated. His brow furrowed, unused to my stillness. "Is something wrong?" "Just tired," I replied, my voice as level as his. He was a stranger now, every gesture filtered through future knowledge, every polite smile a calculation, every question a check on his investment. He funded Chloe' s art studies abroad, a fortune spent while I pinched pennies. That money, even now, was for her. The rage was cold, sharp. Then, he dropped the bombshell: "Chloe is coming back… she could stay with us for a while." My heart stilled. It was happening again. In my past life, I agreed, eager to please, starting my slow erasure. This time, I looked directly at him, seeing the feigned concern, the carefully constructed lie. "No," I said, the word a slammed door. His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed. "What did you say?" "I said no," I repeated, my voice gaining strength. "She can't stay here." A strange power surged. He was dealing with a different woman now, a woman who knew all his secrets.
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Billionaires
The heavy scent of grilled meat and expensive cologne filled the private room at Harris' Steakhouse. My tech CEO husband, Mark, called it a "boys' night out," but I was there, a silent fixture at the dark wood table, habitually ignored. His tech bro friends, Kevin and Josh, flanked him, their laughter growing too loud. Then, in a momentary lull, I calmly stated, "I' m thinking about it too," referring to getting a divorce. The entire table erupted, not in surprise, but in loud, condescending laughter, Mark' s the loudest of all. He wiped a tear from his eye and sneered, "You? Divorce me? What do you have without me, Sarah? You dropped out of Vassar, remember? For me. You think you can survive for a week without my money?" His friend Kevin, already flushed from too much wine, then slurred a public dare, "If you actually divorce Mark, I swear, I' ll live-stream chugging a blended concoction of the grossest things!" They truly believed I was a fragile, dependent ornament, easily controlled. They saw only a trophy wife, utterly incapable of independent thought or action. They didn't see the cold, hard knot of pure resolve tightening inside my gut. They certainly didn't know about the countless hours I'd spent in our Atherton mansion's library, diligently studying California community property law. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips as I met their gazes. "No, Mark," I said, standing slowly, my voice cool and even, "I don' t think I will apologize; in fact, I've already had divorce papers drawn up." My lawyer would be in touch with his. Weeks later, when his young intern, Tiffany, smugly tried to announce her fake pregnancy at a family dinner, I exposed Mark's zero sperm count to his horrified mother and everyone present. They had utterly underestimated me, and my meticulously researched plan to reclaim my life had just begun.
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I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body. My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in. I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then- I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses. Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down- He's still hard. Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance. "You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless. "I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake. "Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat. And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm. "Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. *** Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge. She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez. He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her. What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated. Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty? And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
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Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.
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I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
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The night I discovered my husband's whore was carrying his heir, I smiled for the cameras-and plotted his ruin. Scarlett was born a queen-heir to a powerful legacy, Luna of the Dark Moon Pack by blood and by sacrifice. She gave everything to Alexander: her love, her loyalty, her life. In return, he paraded his mistress before their pack... and dared to call it duty. But Scarlett won't be another broken woman weeping in the shadows. She'll wear her crown of thorns with pride, tear down every lie built around her, and when she strikes, it will be glorious. The Alpha forgot that the woman he betrayed is far more dangerous than the girl who once loved him.
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My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.
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Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."


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