Eighteen Again: And He's Out

Severed Bond: The White Wolf's Second Chance

My husband stood over our son's cold, blue body, his eyes filled with pure hatred. "You killed him," Eli growled, using his Alpha tone to force me into submission. "You were too busy with your research to watch our heir." I broke. I accepted the punishment. I let them drag me to the water cells where the silver burned my skin. I let his "cousin" Kasey pour my son’s ashes into a filthy sewer grate while Eli stood by and watched, stone-faced. He stripped me of my title, my clothes, and threw me into the Rogue lands to rot. But in the ruins of the old temple, the Moon Goddess showed me the truth. I wasn't the only one distracted that day. While our three-year-old screamed for his daddy from the water, Eli heard him. He heard him, but he didn't come. Because he was in the boathouse, entangled in the sheets with Kasey. He ignored our son's dying cries to satisfy his lust. The pain was too much. To survive the agony, I chose the Ritual of Oblivion. I paid the ultimate price: I erased my memories of them. All of them. Years later, as the revered White Wolf Luna, I walked down the grand staircase of the Lycan palace. A man I didn't recognize fell to his knees in front of the crowd, weeping, clutching at the hem of my silver dress. "Harper, please! It’s me, Eli! Remember our baby!" I tilted my head, looking at him with polite indifference. "I'm sorry, sir." "I have no mate named Eli."

My Escape From His Poisonous Love

For seven years, my husband, Dwight, was a saint for publicly forgiving me for letting his mother die. Today, he let my father die. And I learned his forgiveness was just a seven-year-long lie. He refused to send a medical helicopter, choosing instead to listen to his new, twenty-two-year-old lover, Charity, preach about the universe's plan. At my father's funeral, she crashed the service in a wedding dress, drew a clown smile on my father's face with lipstick, and announced she was pregnant. "You're a barren wasteland," she sneered. "A broken woman he can't stand the sight of." That's when I understood. His forgiveness was never real. It was a slow-burning revenge for a crime his own mother had orchestrated against me-a crime that left me unable to ever have children. He thought he had taken everything from me. He was wrong. He left me one thing: revenge. And I was about to burn his entire world to the ground.

A Mother's Heart, A Cruel Lie

I went to the bank to set up a surprise trust fund for my twins' sixth birthday. For six years, I’d been the loving wife of tech mogul Gavyn Dunlap, and I believed my life was a perfect dream. But my application was rejected. The manager informed me that according to the official birth certificates, I wasn't their legal mother. Their mother was Iliana Dudley—my husband’s first love. I raced to his office, only to overhear the devastating truth from behind his door. My entire marriage was a sham. I was chosen because I resembled Iliana, hired as a surrogate to carry her biological children. For six years, I had been nothing more than a free nanny and a "comfortable placeholder" until she decided to return. That night, my children saw my heartbroken state and their faces twisted in disgust. "You look awful," my daughter sneered, before giving me a shove. I tumbled down the stairs, my head cracking against the post. As I lay there bleeding, they simply laughed. My husband walked in with Iliana, glanced at me on the floor, and then promised to take the kids for ice cream with their "real mom." "I wish Iliana was our real mom," my daughter said loudly as they left. Lying alone in a pool of my own blood, I finally understood. The six years of love I had poured into this family meant nothing to them. Fine. Their wish was granted.

Her Shattered Heart, His Cruel Betrayal

My husband's pregnant mistress disappeared, and he accused me of kidnapping her. To force a confession, he dragged a writhing burlap sack into the living room, threatening to beat the "stray dog" inside if I didn't tell him where she was. I screamed that our son, Jalen, was inside. He just laughed, calling me a liar as he raised an iron poker. I watched, helpless, as he brought it down again and again, ignoring my pleas. Through the blood-soaked fabric, I heard our son's last, faint whisper: "Daddy…" As if that wasn't enough, he then had his men drag me to a back room to punish me for his mistress’s supposed miscarriage. They left me broken on the floor, my son dead and my soul shattered. With nothing left to live for, I threw myself into the ocean. But I was saved. And when I opened my eyes, I made a vow. I would return, and I would drag them both down to the hell they built for me.

A Jilted Lover's Triumphant Return

The new house smelled of fresh paint, a fresh start for Ava Miller, a successful tech entrepreneur, her loving husband Liam, and their two-year-old son, Leo. Her peaceful suburban dream shattered when a car pulled up, and out stepped her aunt and cousin-faces she hadn't seen since she left her old life behind. "Ava! We heard you moved into the neighborhood! What a surprise!" her aunt chirped, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. Her cousin' s sly glance past Ava signaled trouble: "We ran into Ethan Hayes's mother... She was saying how much Ethan still misses you." The name hung in the air, a poisonous cloud. Ethan Hayes, her college sweetheart, the man who publicly humiliated her by announcing his engagement to another woman at their supposed engagement party. They twisted the knife, claiming Ethan still pined for her, ignoring her cold silence, daring to suggest reconciliation. Then came the final insult, "His mother said he' s not happy with Chloe. He' s still waiting for you, Ava." A strange calm settled over Ava. The heartbroken girl they knew was dead. "I appreciate your concern," Ava said, a polite, chilling smile on her face. "But I think there's been a misunderstanding." She pulled Liam forward, her husband of two years, and gestured to Leo, playing happily in the yard. "This is my husband, Liam. And that's our son, Leo." Their smiles shattered, replaced by stunned silence. The image they held of her-the pining, discarded lover-crumbled before the woman she had become. After all this time, after all she had endured, did they truly believe she was still the same person, waiting for the man who broke her? Her past, once a painful scar, became her shield. The calm in her voice held a dangerous promise: Her life with Liam was not a misunderstanding, but a meticulously built fortress against the ghosts she had outrun.

Three Years, A Shattered Reality With The Heir

Three years. Three years of marriage to Olivia Reed, the woman who redefined my world. On our anniversary, I went to sign the final papers for our joint asset trust, a mere formality. But the city clerk told me words that shattered my reality: "According to our records, you are not legally married to Olivia Reed." My laughter died in my throat when she added, "There is a record of a marriage for Ms. Olivia Reed... to Alex Thorne. It was filed two years ago." Alex Thorne. My protégé. The talented young architect I'd mentored, the man I trusted after our ceremony. The wedding certificate, the grand gestures, the vows-all lies. Every single one. I pieced it together: Olivia's sad eyes, her whispers of a "replacement" while I was overseas, her tears and apologies for being "paranoid" about Alex when I returned. Now, I heard her cooing to him on the phone, "To him, I'm his devoted wife. To the world, you' re my husband. It' s a perfect arrangement. I have his love and your legal status. I have everything." Everything. And I had nothing. I was a sham. A joke. The love I felt, a towering structure, crumbled to dust. There was no rage. Just a cold, empty void. Then, the sculpture crashed. Olivia chose him, shielding him, letting the heavy steel frame slam into me, crushing bones. Lying broken in the hospital, I watched her dote on him while ignoring me. I realized she had intended to erase me. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't an accident. This was a brutal choice, a calculated punishment. Ethan Miller, the trusting fool, was dead. I decided then. I wasn' t confronting her. I was disappearing. And then, when she least expected it, I would take it all away.

I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything

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.

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

Ugly Bride, Ruthless Groom: The Ultimate Power Couple

Caitlin married Shawn, a man rumored to be both violent and terminally ill, just to reclaim her late mother's belongings. Their union was the talk of the town-everyone mocked the "ugly woman" and the "dying madman," convinced the marriage was doomed from the start. But after their wedding, Caitlin shocked the elite: she was a brilliant architect, legendary healer, and even secretly ruled the underworld. As the world watched, Shawn's brutal image softened. During a global live-streamed wedding, he knelt and declared, "Caitlin, you are the light in my life!"

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

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. Then his ex returned. And without hesitation, David cast Lily aside like she meant nothing. So she did what she should have done years ago. She signed the divorce papers. She walked away. But now, David couldn't escape her absence. Her silence burned him in ways Marina never could. And suddenly, the man who swore he'd never love her was 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.

Hell In His Eyes, Heaven In His Kiss

Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.