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My life for the last decade has been an endless parent-teacher conference, a special kind of hell where I was the main exhibit. It all shattered when my nine-year-old stepdaughter, Madisyn, hurled a weighted beanbag at my head, then publicly denounced me as a "kept man" and a "gold-digging loser." The humiliation spiraled, culminating in a doctored photo circulating, reviving an old, devastating lie that branded me a pervert, while my wife and her ex-boyfriend flaunted their affair and my stepdaughter called him "Dad" with a loving smile. But the real horror struck when my wife confessed: her mother had been secretly drugging me for years, suppressing my hormones, to make me "docile," to "keep me calm." That' s when the familiar ache of humiliation hardened into a single, cold thought: I'm done.
My life for the last decade has been an endless parent-teacher conference, a special kind of hell where I was the main exhibit.
It all shattered when my nine-year-old stepdaughter, Madisyn, hurled a weighted beanbag at my head, then publicly denounced me as a "kept man" and a "gold-digging loser."
The humiliation spiraled, culminating in a doctored photo circulating, reviving an old, devastating lie that branded me a pervert, while my wife and her ex-boyfriend flaunted their affair and my stepdaughter called him "Dad" with a loving smile.
But the real horror struck when my wife confessed: her mother had been secretly drugging me for years, suppressing my hormones, to make me "docile," to "keep me calm."
That' s when the familiar ache of humiliation hardened into a single, cold thought: I'm done.
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Mafia
In my past life, the bullet chambered in the gun on the desk was less lethal than the indifference of the two men standing beside me. Dante and Matteo were supposed to be the future kings of Chicago, and I was their queen. But they threw it all away for Sofia—a liar with a pretty face and a fake sob story about a gambling father. They forced me into a gilded cage, making me serve Sofia like a maid while they played her saviors. They let me rot in isolation until I swallowed a bottle of pills just to escape the coldness of their neglect. They didn't even mourn me; they were too busy comforting the girl who would eventually destroy them. I died realizing that my loyalty was my fatal flaw. I had worshipped men who saw me as nothing more than an accessory, while they sacrificed their empire for a woman who played them for fools. But the universe has a sick sense of humor. It sent me back. Back to the day that sealed my fate. The Consigliere pushed the assignment papers toward us—the path to becoming Bosses. "We are not going," Dante said, looking at me with cold eyes. "Sofia needs us. She is fragile." In my past life, I begged them to stay. This time, I stepped forward and picked up the pen. "I will go," I said, signing my name in sharp black ink. "I don't need your protection anymore."
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Mafia
Seven years. That was the price tag attached to my father's life. When my father gambled away money he didn't have, Michael Vance paid the debt. He bought my father's safety, and in return, he bought me. I was nineteen then. A peasant girl he polished up to look like a mob wife. I was reapplying my lipstick in the vanity mirror of his armored SUV when I found a diamond choker tucked behind the sunshade. It was a million-dollar piece of jewelry that wasn't mine, engraved with a date that wasn't my birthday. That night at the gala, Michael threw his mistress's heavy fur coat at me. "Hold this, Sarah. Jessica gets hot easily." I stood there like a servant, buried under the scent of another woman’s perfume, watching my fiancé hold her on the dance floor with a tenderness he never showed me. When I stumbled from hunger, he called me a liability to his image. But when Jessica faked a crisis, he abandoned me at the venue to rush her home. I walked to the nearest trash can and shoved the expensive fur down past the half-eaten caviar. As the sugar from a cheap candy bar hit my bloodstream, the fog lifted. I realized I wasn't a wife-in-training. I was a debt that had been paid in full. I left the penthouse, the ring, and the life. But Michael wouldn't let his property go. He cornered me in a parking garage, screaming that I belonged to him, threatening to start a war. He didn't expect me to be standing next to David Chen, the Underboss of the rival Triad faction. And he certainly didn't expect me to take off my Louboutin stiletto and use it as a weapon. "I don't love you, Michael," I said, looking him in the eye as he knelt on the concrete. "And I'm not for sale anymore."
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Werewolf
I carried our child for eight months, yet to my husband, Alpha Damien, I was invisible. When I placed the divorce agreement on his desk, he didn't even look up. He was too busy discussing nursery colors with Victoria, the woman who had taken my place in everything but title. That night, agony ripped through me. I went into premature labor right in the hallway. I grabbed Damien’s arm, begging him to save our child. But he shook me off. He turned his back on his bleeding wife to comfort Victoria, who was faking a panic attack about paint swatches. "Get the best doctors for Victoria!" he bellowed, leaving me to be wheeled into a cold storage room by a terrified intern. While he held her hand, I lay alone in the dark, my body failing. I didn't just lose the baby that night. I found out why I had been so weak. My blood was full of silver nitrate. Victoria had been poisoning me for months, and Damien had been too blind to notice. I signed the divorce papers on my deathbed and vanished into the storm. Three years later, I returned. Not as a rejected Luna, but as the owner of the empire that was buying him out. Damien stood before me at the Alpha Summit, gaunt and broken, holding the deed to his entire territory. "I signed it all over to you," he whispered, falling to his knees. "Please, Elena. I know the truth now. I’ll be your guard dog. Just let me make it right." I looked down at the man who had let our child die. "You can't buy me back, Damien," I said, stepping over him. "I'm not for sale anymore."
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Romance
Our marriage was a battlefield, and the whole city had front-row seats. For five years, Chloe Davis and Mark Stone were New York City' s most famous train wreck, a story of pure animosity that sold magazines and fueled gossip columns. They said we hated each other. They were right. I had married Mark on my twenty-second birthday, a calculated decision, fueled by a decade-long desire for revenge. He was my older brother Liam' s biggest rival, a man who represented everything my family stood against. But he had Ethan' s eyes. That was enough for me back then. On our wedding night, instead of consummating our marriage, I set the penthouse on fire. That set the tone for the next five years. I paraded college students to charity auctions, smashed priceless vases, and weaponized his own humiliating betrayal against him in front of his board. Each calculated move, each public spectacle, was designed for one purpose: to push Mark Stone to his breaking point, to make him the one to initiate our divorce and set me free. And it worked. He finally served me the papers, citing his new love, Bella, as the reason. But then, the carefully constructed walls between us crumbled into something raw and ugly. In the heat of our final, desperate clash, he gasped out a name. "Bella." A sharp, searing pain shot through me, and my first instinct was to hurt him back. I bit down hard on his shoulder, tasting blood. He recoiled, his eyes wide with shock, then narrowed with fury. He left, leaving me crumpled on the floor, the pain in my abdomen intensifying. My vision blurred. "Mark," I choked out, "Something's wrong." He walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone on the cold floor, convinced it was just another trick. In the sterile white of the hospital room, the truth was delivered with clinical detachment: severe internal bruising and a hairline fracture on my lower rib. These were not self-inflicted wounds; they were the physical toll of five years of "intimacy." But the real blow came, not from him, but from Bella. She orchestrated a fall in the stairwell, falsely accusing me of pushing her. Mark, blinded by her cunning, believed every word, unleashing a torrent of my past sins against me, shattering any remaining dignity. "You're just like you always do," he spat, his grip like a vise on my hair. "You set fire to our apartment. You trashed a charity event. You think I'd believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?" His face, once so familiar, was now a stranger's-blinded by a pretty face and a well-told lie. He saw Ethan's face in her, the same way I once saw it in him. The realization was so absurd it was almost funny. I had built my own cage. And now, I was trapped, exiled to a desolate seaside villa, no phone, no internet, no contact with the outside world. A punishment. A banishment. But Mark had no idea that his prison was actually my path to liberation. He thought he was breaking me. He had no idea I was just getting started.
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Romance
My life was a perfectly curated dream, every detail screaming success, happiness, and partnership, especially my charismatic, devoted husband, David. Then came the call – an unsaved number, a persistent ring, and a small, hesitant voice whispering, "Daddy?" The word hit me like a physical blow, shattering the polished surface of our perfect life as I overheard the chilling truth: David had another family, a secret wife, and two young sons, hidden just miles away, all with my mother-in-law's full knowledge and complicity. How could I have been so blind, so foolish, to believe in this lie, while he built a parallel life, celebrating birthdays while I celebrated anniversaries, and she, Sarah Jenkins, his former mousy assistant, played the triumphant other woman? Knowing he would never truly let me go, that he' d use his charm and power to drag me back into his elaborate deception, I made a terrifying choice: I would orchestrate my own disappearance, faking my death out on the open water to finally reclaim my freedom.
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Romance
Gracie never knew that she had perfect control over her captor. All she knew was that she had caused an accident three years ago which had put him in a coma, and now he was getting his revenge on her by forcing marriage after waking up. He wanted to avenge himself, but every time he saw her, unbearable pain would spread inside him. She was the one he once truly loved. What should he do with her? Read on as her efforts to run away are thwarted, as are his intentions of vengeance because she is the one he loved once upon a time.
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I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.
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Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
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Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
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Life was a bed of roses for Debra, the daughter of Alpha. That was until she had a one-night stand with Caleb. She was sure he was her mate as determined by Moon Goddess. But this hateful man refused to accept her. Weeks passed before Debra discovered that she was pregnant. Her pregnancy brought shame to her and everyone she loved. Not only was she driven out, but her father was also hunted down by usurpers. Fortunately, she survived with the help of the mysterious Thorn Edge Pack. Five years passed and Debra didn't hear anything from Caleb. One day, their paths crossed again. They were both on the same mission-carrying out secret investigations in the dangerous Roz Town for the safety and posterity of their respective packs. Caleb was still cold toward her. But as time went on, he fell head over heels in love with her. He tried to make up for abandoning her, but Debra wasn't having any of it. She was hell-bent on hiding her daughter from him and also making a clean break. What did the future hold for the two as they journeyed in Roz Town? What kind of secrets would they find? Would Caleb win Debra's heart and get to know his lovely daughter? Find out!
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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.
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A car crash robbed the man she loved of his memory, only for him to fall for her cousin. Grieving the loss of her parents, Nicole faced a broken home and an arranged marriage to a man rumored to be cruel, blind, and crippled. The town whispered about her looming misfortune, certain she would crumble. Instead, Nicole stunned them all-an architectural prodigy, tech powerhouse, and medical genius. Her so-called disabled husband revealed himself as a casino king and the wealthiest man in town. Relatives pleaded for mercy, and her ex tried to buy her back, but her husband only scoffed. "Keep dreaming."


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