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Eight years ago, I had stupid dreams of a picket fence and a life with Ethan Carter. Then, at our high school graduation, I told him I was pregnant. Ethan didn' t just laugh; he dragged me in front of my father, accusing me of being a slut and my dad of destroying his first love, Sarah – a lie that killed my mother and paralyzed my father. I became a pariah, a strip club waitress raising his son in a shithole town, while he became a wealthy, powerful man. Why did he do it? Why this twisted revenge that shattered my family and turned my life into a living hell? Now, he's back, trying to steal my son, but after Sarge, my only protector, died trying to save us, and my father was murdered, enough is enough. I' m Izzy Rossi, and this time, the hunt is on.
Eight years ago, I had stupid dreams of a picket fence and a life with Ethan Carter.
Then, at our high school graduation, I told him I was pregnant.
Ethan didn' t just laugh; he dragged me in front of my father, accusing me of being a slut and my dad of destroying his first love, Sarah – a lie that killed my mother and paralyzed my father.
I became a pariah, a strip club waitress raising his son in a shithole town, while he became a wealthy, powerful man.
Why did he do it? Why this twisted revenge that shattered my family and turned my life into a living hell?
Now, he's back, trying to steal my son, but after Sarge, my only protector, died trying to save us, and my father was murdered, enough is enough.
I' m Izzy Rossi, and this time, the hunt is on.
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Mafia
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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Mafia
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
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Romance
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
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Modern
Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear.
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Werewolf
I was the Pack’s shame, a twenty-year-old "Runt" who had never shifted. Yet, I clung to the desperate hope that Alpha Marcus, the man I had loved my entire life, would finally claim me at the Full Moon Gala. Instead, he stood before the entire Pack with Izzy, a woman who looked at him with hunger rather than love. With eyes as cold as stone, he didn't just ignore me; he destroyed me. "I, Marcus Thorne, reject you, Olivia Hayes." The rejection snapped our bond, but the nightmare was just beginning. When Izzy framed me for poisoning her, Marcus didn't hesitate. He chained me in the dungeon and wielded the silver whip himself. Each lash burned like liquid fire, tearing through my skin as he demanded a confession I couldn't give. I woke up in a pool of my own blood, only to hear the nurse whisper the truth I was never meant to know. The silver toxicity hadn't just broken my body; it had killed the unborn pup I didn't even know I was carrying. Marcus had whipped the mother of his own child to protect a liar. He had killed his heir for a woman who was faking her own pregnancy. That night, as I crawled through the mud to escape, the weak Runt died. In the freezing waters of the river, my bones snapped and reshaped. I didn't just shift; I became the legendary White Wolf. And when Marcus finally realized the truth and came begging on his knees, I looked at him with my new, violet eyes and prepared to give him the rejection he deserved.
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Modern
I returned to the manor after four years, handing Marcus Thorne an invitation to my wedding. He looked at me with cold eyes, his arm around his fiancée, Chloe—the woman I was molded to look like. But the real blow came at lunch. A waiter tripped, sending three mugs of scalding coffee flying toward us. Marcus didn't move to protect me. He lunged to grab his phone from the table because Chloe’s face was on the screen. The boiling liquid splashed across my chest, burning my skin instantly. While I screamed in agony, Marcus simply checked his notifications. "I have to go," he said, stepping over me as my fiancé, David, desperately poured ice water on my burns. "Chloe broke a nail. She's hysterical." He walked out of the restaurant without looking back, leaving me writhing in pain. At the hospital, the doctor dropped another bombshell: I was pregnant. Marcus didn't know. He didn't know I was carrying another man's child. Just like he didn't know about the baby of his I had lost three years ago—the one I miscarried while he ignored my calls to close a business deal. I wiped my tears and looked at David. "Get the plane ready," I whispered. "We leave tonight." When Marcus finally came looking for me, all he found was a medical report of the child he killed with his neglect, and a note saying I was gone forever.
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At their wedding night, Kayla caught her brand-new husband cheating. Reeling and half-drunk, she staggered into the wrong suite and collapsed into a stranger's arms. Sunrise brought a pounding head-and the discovery she was pregnant. The father? A supremely powerful tycoon who happened to be her husband's ruthless uncle. Panicked, she tried to run, but he barred the door with a faint, dangerous smile. When the cheating ex begged, Kayla lifted her chin and declared, "Want a second chance at us? Ask your uncle." The tycoon pulled her close. "She's my wife now." The ex gasped, "What!?"
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Gianna Benton, a woman who came from a great family, a family with ancient history, had always lived a life that's overshadowed by her younger sister, Quinn. After her unfair death with her unborn baby at the hands of the man she loved, Gianna got reborn. Now with the opportunity to live again, Gianna rejects her mate and gives herself to alpha Axel, falling into an unexpected contract marriage. Both plans to use each other, and falling in love isn't part of the deal for them. Gianna plans to get her revenge on her former lover, alpha Nathan, who killed her in the past because of her younger sister, but surprisingly to her, alpha Nathan wants his mate back, and Gianna is determined not to let the past repeat itself. ------------------------------------------------- "Is this hell?" "Gianna, what's wrong with you? I know that you are excited, but you need to stop acting weird." Mom said. I reach out my hands to touch her face, but she slaps my hands away. This is real, I thought. Somehow, I have gone back in time to the day I got married to Alpha Nathan. "I need to take a picture of you, but I can't do it without your sister. Wait here for me while I go get your sister." Mom left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My hands formed a fist in anger as I thought of Quinn and Alpha Nathan. I don't know how I have traveled back to the past, but I'm not going to let myself make the same mistake I did in my past life; I'm not getting married to alpha Nathan. No matter what, I need to put a stop to this wedding.
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In her past life, Summer was tragically killed by a scumbag and her scheming stepsister, and they also caused the death of the husband who loved her most. After being reborn, Summer takes the initiative to marry in the place of another, becoming the bride of a disabled husband. In this new life, she plans to tear apart those who wronged her and fiercely punish the scum. They say she's plain and unlucky for her husband? Until one day, when all her divine-level disguises are revealed, everyone who underestimated her is blinded by her brilliance. But what about the supposedly impotent, disabled big shot? By day, he is so gentle, pampering her to the bone; by night, he turns into a ravenous wolf and devours her completely! [Foolish Bride Substitute + Hidden Talents + Rebirth + Strong Couple + Sweet Romance]
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After being forced out of her marriage because she could not have children, Allison's heart broke into pieces. She left for a sleepy town, hoping to find peace and mend her wounds. One day, she stumbled upon an abandoned baby boy and chose to raise him alone. Four years slipped by. One morning, a fleet of luxury cars rolled up to her modest house. A well-dressed man stepped out, holding a card. "Here's two million. Take it for raising my son." With a sly grin, the man replied, "Then both of you come home with me." Allison drew the child close. "He's my family. I will not let him go!"
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Isabelle's love for Kolton held flawless for fifteen years-until the day she delivered their children and slipped into a coma. He leaned to her ear and whispered, "Don't wake up. You're worthless to me now." The twins later clutched another woman's hand and chirped, "Mommy," splintering Isabelle's heart. She woke, filed for divorce, and disappeared. Only then did Kolton notice her fingerprints on every habit. They met again: she emerged as the lead medical specialist, radiant and unmoved. But at her engagement gala, she leapt into a tycoon's arms. Jealous, he crushed a glass, blood wetting his palm. He believed as soon as he made a move, Isabelle would return to him. After all, she had loved him deeply.
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Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.


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