The Unseen Savior

Broken Vows, Unbreakable Spirit Emerges

On my seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Camden, publicly announced his affair with his much younger personal trainer, Kai. The video went viral before I even woke up. But the real betrayal wasn't the affair. It was the sudden, horrifying realization that two years ago, he forced me to terminate our long-awaited pregnancy because it was "bad timing" for his new relationship with Kai. He and Kai humiliated me in my own home, shattering the glass sculpture I'd spent months creating for our anniversary. "It's just glass," Kai sneered. "Easily replaceable." Camden then tossed the broken pieces into the trash, along with the last of my love for him. Years of swallowing his betrayals, of enduring his cruelty, finally came to an end. The woman who once crumbled at his feet was gone, replaced by a cold, profound emptiness. I watched him stand there, smug and triumphant with his new lover, completely oblivious to the storm he had unleashed. He thought he had broken me, but he had only forged me into something new, something unbreakable. "Fine," I said, my voice a calm whisper that cut through his arrogance. "Divorce me." This wasn't just the end of a marriage. It was the beginning of his ruin.

My Stepbrother's Deadly Game of Love

I started a dangerous game to break my perfect, cold stepbrother, Hunter. Our forbidden affair became a secret inferno, and I thought I was the one in control, the one teaching him how to feel. Then an anonymous video arrived on my phone. It showed Hunter with a young intern, repeating our most intimate lines, my words, my lessons, verbatim. "Does this need to be taught, too?" he asked her, his voice a chilling echo of our past. He confessed it was all a calculated revenge plot against my mother. He left me to collapse in the street, sick and alone, and the car crash that followed shattered my legs, ending my ballet career forever. My love was a weapon he used to burn my world to the ground. My body was broken, my dreams turned to ash. I had lost everything to a man I thought I had broken, but who had instead destroyed me. But from the ashes, a new dream was born. I became a choreographer, my pain fueling my art. Now, years later, as I stand on the world stage, he watches from the shadows, a ghost consumed by a regret he can never atone for.

Broken by the Alpha: The Moon Singer's Rise

I was the Alpha’s Fated Mate, but to Jacob, I was nothing more than a tool to soothe his rage with my piano music. He paraded Kassandra around as his true love, treating me like a servant in my own home. When Rogues attacked our territory, Jacob had to make a split-second choice. He chose to save Kassandra, believing her lie that she was pregnant with his heir. While he protected her, Kassandra looked me in the eye and stomped on my hand—crushing the bones and destroying my ability to play the music that kept the pack sane. I left the pack that night, broken and alone. It took Jacob weeks to discover the truth. Kassandra was never pregnant; she had been taking birth control for years and stealing millions from the pack treasury. Realizing he had sacrificed his true mate for a liar, Jacob destroyed Kassandra and came crawling back to me. He found me in Vienna, healed and rising as the powerful White Wolf Luna. He knelt in the dirt, slicing his own arm with a silver blade, begging for a chance to bleed for me the way I had bled for him. He offered me his Alpha title, his fortune, and his life. I looked at the man who had once been my entire world and felt nothing but a cold, hollow silence. "I don't hate you, Jacob," I said, turning to the man who truly loved me. "I just don't care."

My First Love, My Last Revenge

My stepbrother, Booker Harvey, saved me from a life of abuse. He was my protector, my teacher, and my first love. For two years, our small apartment was a sun-drenched dream. Then he went on a business trip. I called him, pregnant with our child, only for another woman to answer his phone. He hung up on me. Later, his stepmother put him on speakerphone so I could hear him laugh off our entire relationship. "Tell her it was just for fun," he said. "She shouldn't take it so seriously." Just for fun. The words shattered me. I got rid of our son, took the hush money, and vanished. The girl who loved him died that day. In her place, I became "Nine," a ruthless operative forged in betrayal. Now, five years later, an explosion has left me with "amnesia." When the police ask who will be my guardian, I point to the man who broke my world. "Him," I say with a shy smile. "He's the most handsome."

Shattered Dreams, Stolen Lives

The world first saw the crash. A cherry-red sports car, crumpled like a can, embedded in the ornate gates of the prestigious Blackwood Art Gallery. Inside, I was slumped over the wheel, a faint, serene smile on my lips that made no sense. Gallery staff rushed out, their faces pale, trying to pull my eyelids shut. They wouldn't stay closed. My wide, vacant eyes stared out, refusing to be silenced. The police called it a tragic accident. The powerful Blackwood family issued a brief statement, an attempt to smother the truth with their influence. But truth has a way of finding cracks. An intern leaked my autopsy report: tongue surgically removed, knees bruised with calluses, stomach filled not with food, but with gnawed animal bones and phlegm. My death became a national nightmare. People raged online, demanding #JusticeForJaneDoe. I watched as a wispy, translucent soul. Dr. Alex Peterson, the medical examiner, refused to be silenced, seeing past the official story. "This wasn't an accident," he said. "She delivered a message." Pressure from city hall mounted, ordering him to close the case. Then, something impossible happened. The stitches meant to keep my eyes closed snapped, and they opened again, a silent act of defiance. The internet erupted. My spirit couldn't rest. People began digging, finding old articles about "muse-slaves," human beings treated as living art objects. It felt terrifyingly real. Dr. Peterson defied his superiors, ruling my death a homicide. With public outcry, a full investigation began. But every lead was a dead end: no wallet, no phone, disabled GPS, conveniently malfunctioning cameras. I longed to scream names, places. The public's patience wore thin, protestors demanding answers. Then, a radical idea emerged: a "Memory-Reader," a device to access the last images in my brain. Against all odds, the authorities agreed. My body, cryogenically preserved, was placed on a stage. The Blackwood family sat in the front row, an obscenity of feigned innocence. Among them, Michael, my brother, with a troubled look in his eyes. Dr. Peterson fitted a chrome helmet to my head. The monitors flickered to life. Static. Chloe Blackwood's dismissive voice echoed, "What a waste of time. This is boring." But then, a jolt. The static cleared. The world was inside my head. A dimly lit room. My parents and a shadowy figure. "She is the price," my mother said, emotionless. "A daughter for a pigment. We can always have another." A collective gasp filled the auditorium. The truth began to unfold.

More Than Ashes

The smell of smoke woke me up, a thick, acrid scent clinging to my throat. My heart pounded as sirens pierced the night, a chilling prelude. Three missed calls from Marco, my dad's sous chef. "It' s the restaurant. It' s… there was a fire." I ran, the air growing thick with the smell of burning wood and something chemical, something awful. My world shattered when I saw it: the hollowed-out shell of "The Amber Hearth," my parents' restaurant, my entire life, consumed by flames. A police officer stopped me, but I could only stare at the wreckage, the place my parents worked, lived, and breathed. Weeks later, I was living with Chloe, my food critic girlfriend, in her pristine, minimalist apartment. She supported me, made calls, held me when nightmares struck. "We'll get through this together," she promised. But that promise felt hollow when the simple click-click-whoosh of a gas stove sent me stumbling in terror, and she quickly turned it off, her embrace distant even as she whispered, "I'll be here for you." The cracks widened when she abandoned our quiet anniversary dinner, again, for Daniel, her 'anxiety-ridden' former mentor. "He needs me, Liam," she'd always say, framing his alleged illness as a virtue, my need for her as a selfish demand. I watched her move, efficient and precise, realizing I was just an obligation, a managed crisis she was bored with. Then, a text from my friend: Chloe's rave review of Daniel's new menu just dropped, a "Triumph of a Troubled Genius." The publication date? Last night. Our anniversary. She wasn' t working; she was dining with him, relaunching his career. The anger burned clean and hot; her entire compassionate façade was a calculated deception. When she walked in, I confronted her, the ugly truth filling her perfectly curated apartment: she chose him, lied to me, used my grief as cover. Her icy response, "If that's how you feel, then maybe you should leave," was all I needed. I left. Days later, I saw him letting himself into her apartment, confirming the sickening truth: I was just a convenient cover for their secret affair, a grieving fool in their shared territory. I had defended her, pushed away friends who tried to warn me, all for a lie. My anger, humiliation, and shame fused into a chilling resolve. I wasn't just heartbroken; I was done. This wasn't a relationship; it was a fraud. And now, armed with the brutal truth, I had to build something new, far from her memory.

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

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.

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.

The Bride He Cast Away on Their Wedding Night

In the glittering world of high society and cutthroat ambition, a single sentence shatters a marriage: "Let's get a divorce." For three years, Claire Thompson has lived in exile, her marriage to the powerful Nelson Cooper a hollow shell existing only on paper. Shipped abroad on her wedding day and utterly forgotten, she returns only to be handed divorce papers. But Claire is no longer the timid, heartbroken girl she once was. Behind her quiet facade lies a woman transformed, secretly rejoicing at her newfound freedom. However, freedom comes with a price. As Claire signs the papers with relief, a chilling phone call reveals a dark truth: the threats she faced overseas were no accident, and the trail leads shockingly close to home-to the family that raised her and the husband who discarded her. Just as she prepares to sever all ties, a twist of fate pulls her back into the gilded cage. Nelson, for reasons unknown, suddenly stalls the divorce. Meanwhile, the family that disowned her and the fragile, manipulative sister who stole her life are determined to ruin her reputation and drive her out for good. But Claire is playing a different game now. With a mysterious new identity, powerful allies, and secrets of her own, she is no one's pawn. As hidden truths unravel and loyalties are tested, a stunning question emerges: In this high-stakes battle of love, betrayal, and revenge, who is truly trapping whom?

Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."

The Phantom Heiress: Rising From The Shadows

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...

The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life

Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"