His Test, Her Sacrifice

My Millions, His Parasitic Family

I'm a neurosurgeon making over half a million dollars a month. I support my husband, an army captain, and his entire parasitic family. After I saved them from financial ruin with a $5 million check, I planned the ultimate family vacation to Monaco—private jet, chartered yacht, all on my dime. The night before we left, my husband announced his ex-girlfriend, Dahlia, was coming. He had already given her my seat on the private jet I paid for. My new ticket? A commercial flight with a layover in a war zone. "Dahlia is delicate," he explained. "You're strong." His family agreed, fawning over her while I stood there, invisible. His sister even whispered to Dahlia, "I wish you were my real sister-in-law." That night, I found Dahlia in my bed, wearing my silk nightgown. When I went for her, my husband threw his arms around Dahlia, shielding her from me. The next morning, as punishment for my "behavior," he ordered me to load their mountain of luggage into the motorcade. I smiled. "Of course." Then I walked into my office and made a call. "Yes, I have a large quantity of contaminated material," I told the hazardous waste disposal service. "I need it all incinerated."

Reborn, Redeemed, and Unbothered

I woke up with a pounding headache and a man I didn't recognize sleeping next to me-Liam Hayes, the man I' d loved for years, only to realize he' d mistaken me for his ex-girlfriend, Bethany. It was a cruel echo of a past life I was desperately trying to escape. He stirred, calling out her name, and then his eyes landed on me. The warmth vanished, replaced by cold indifference. He nonchalantly offered to marry me, stating it was only for his grandmother and that his love belonged to someone else. In my last life, I said yes. I let him use me, tolerate me, and ultimately ruin my family for Bethany. He abandoned me on a stormy night, leading to a car crash that killed me and our unborn twins. But now, I was back, reborn in that very hotel room, at the precipice of ruin. I calmly told him nothing happened, that he was drunk and I had merely fallen asleep on the couch. He snarled, refusing to believe me, pulling away the towel I wore to reveal bruises he' d inflicted, accusing me of drugging him. Just then, Bethany's video call flashed on his phone, and he instantly cast me aside, his voice soft and loving for her. He threw my dress at me, ordering me out. Later, when I was packing my things, he taunted me, then made elaborate plans to send chicken noodle soup via private jet to Bethany in Europe, while I, his supposed fiancée, couldn't even get a glass of water. It was then that the last piece of my old heart turned to dust. The very next day, my parents, beaming, presented me with a penthouse key, convinced Liam and I would finally marry. My mother' s hand flew to her chest when I told them I no longer loved Liam, just as his call came in. He ordered me to take birth control pills, then sarcastically dismissed the designer bag he'd once given me. I simply replied, "That bag is old. You can just throw it away."

Mrs. Sterling, Look, He truly Dotes On Her

My husband, Liam Sterling, once held me like a fragile, precious thing. Three years into our marriage, his touch turned to ice. He led Chloe Miller, the interior designer he now obsessed over, into our home. Today was her wedding day, a cruel game to force his hand. On my knees in a rust-scented warehouse, Liam' s gentle fingers stroked my neck. He smiled, but glacial eyes demanded Chloe' s wedding address. I pleaded, "I don' t know where her wedding is, Liam. She' s setting me up. She' s lying." He sneered, "Chloe was right, as usual. You' re just jealous of her." Then he brought out my brother, Ben, bound and gagged. Five snarling Dobermans lunged, their barks hungry. Liam whispered, his lips brushing my cheek, "If you don' t give me the wedding location, your brother will have a little 'playdate' with the Dobermans." His words were a cold knife, cutting deeper than any physical pain. A dog' s claw dug into Ben' s shoulder, tearing skin, drawing blood. His muffled cry tore through me. I begged, "Please, let my brother go! Take it out on me instead, Liam!" His face darkened, grip tightening on my chin. "Tell me, where is Chloe getting married?" He had forgotten everything we were. The man who swore to protect me now found cruel amusement in my agony. This wasn' t the first sign. Subtle perfumes, a whispered name in passion, then seeing him kiss her in the rain. He' d even told me, casually, "I' m keeping her. She entertains me. Men in our circle all do this." I tracked down Chloe' s abusive ex, hoping to end this nightmare. But she was smarter. She turned it into a scheme that branded me as the villain, telling Liam I paid her ex to marry her. And he believed her. When his assistant burst in with Chloe' s wedding location, Liam' s rage shifted. He ordered, "Help Mrs. Sterling back to her room." And as they dragged me away, I heard Ben' s whimpers, saw the Dobermans tear at him. Liam' s indifferent words echoed, "Honey, you know I can' t bear to punish you, so your brother will have to take the punishment for you." My world went black. Something snapped inside me. When I awoke in the hospital, Ben was alive, but mangled. "I can' t let you get hurt for me anymore. I have to leave him!" I cried. Ben sighed, "The world is vast, Ava, but the Sterling family is vastest." But I had a plan now, a secret escape clause in our marriage agreement. In ten days, Liam Sterling and I would never see each other again.

The Assistant’s Escape: From Abuse to Love

"Ethan, why the sudden resignation? You're heading to Norway?" the HR manager asked. I was Sarah Jenkins's longest-serving, most loyal assistant, but I had no reason to stay anymore. A bitter smile touched my lips as I remembered how I had been tricked into a marriage seven years ago with Sarah, who used me as a stand-in for her ex, David. Now, she was pregnant and needed a husband. I found them at "The Gilded Lily," Sarah tending to David's injury, her face full of adoration. I was invisible, a servant, bringing clothes for David. Even my son, Leo, saw it. He looked at their linked hands, hurt flickering in his eyes. That night, Leo, my son, whispered, "This is the 97th time Mom has made me sad. Three more times. When it gets to 100, we'll leave Mom and never come back." My heart ached. Sarah had promised to celebrate his birthday, but she was flaunting her relationship with David on social media. When she came home, reeking of alcohol, she shoved a toy at me. "This is for Leo." It was the one she'd forgotten. A wave of frustration washed over me. "Let's get a divorce." She stared at me, then curled her lips into a mocking smile. "Can you and your son survive without me?" The next day, I handed her the divorce papers. She signed them without looking, her mind on an international call. I hated her condescending gestures, the expensive suits she bought me that were meant for someone like David. "I can give you a marriage, I can give you money, but you can't hope for my love. I hope you always remember your place." Her words sliced my heart. What right did I have to be upset? I was just the assistant, the stand-in husband. At a family dinner, her mother constantly compared me and my son to David and his son, Lucas. Lucas, a spoiled brat, then falsely accused Leo of hitting him with a fork. Before I could defend Leo, Sarah slapped our son. "Still lying!" My eyes burned red. How could she? The world went silent. Leo, his cheek red and swollen, looked at her, his soft voice filled with defiance. "I hate you. I don't have a mom like you!" My heart shattered. She had given birth to him, but she had never raised him. She only knew how to hurt him. "You're disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!" I roared, grabbing Leo's hand, ignoring Sarah. She tried to grab me, but I pulled away. "David is still waiting for you." She let go, her eyes darting to him. My heart turned to ice. She chose him again. I leaned down to Leo, "How about we go to Norway tonight?" He nodded, his gaze firm. "Okay." This was it. There was nothing left for me here. I packed our bags, buried a box of old memories, and placed the signed divorce papers on the table. Then, I texted her: "100." Moments later, she replied, "What?" My face impassive, I typed back: "My son and I gave you 100 chances to hurt us. Today was your 100th time." No more. My son and I were flying into the night, leaving her, and our past, behind.

Drowning In Betrayal, Rising Stronger

The first thing I felt was water in my lungs, then nothing. Now, I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head throbbing, with three years of my life mysteriously wiped clean. My father explained it away as an "accident," a fall into a lake, but the icy demeanor of my supposedly devoted bodyguard, Liam, and the saccharine sweetness masking venom from my stepsister, Brittany, painted a disturbing picture. "You valued him," my father said of Liam, confirming my worst suspicions about a past I couldn't recall, yet instinctively recoiled from. The "caring" nurse, the dismissive father, the subtly cruel stepsister-they all confirmed a horrifying truth: I was the obsessed, pathetic fool in a one-sided romance. This betrayal was cemented when Brittany, in a staged "accident," showered Liam with attention, and he, without a moment' s hesitation, left me in my hospital bed to comfort her, his "concern" for her a stark contrast to his disdain for me. Why had my past self been so blind? What dark secrets lay buried in those missing three years that made me cling to a man who despised me and a family that clearly harbored ill will? The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. But in that cold realization, a new resolve was forged. The pathetic Chloe was gone, drowned in that lake. With a click, I deleted Liam' s picture and contact from my phone. My amnesia was not a curse; it was a clean slate, and I vowed to reclaim my life and burn down the world of those who had wronged me.

Unwanted No More: The Heiress's Ultimate Escape

My biological parents, the Duncans, finally threw me out, discarding me like trash onto the wet Chicago pavement. Minutes later, trapped in a kidnapper's van, I heard my own brother Andrew on speaker, coldly telling them to do whatever they wanted with me – they didn't care. Stella, the perfect daughter they raised in my place, even chimed in with fake sympathy, reinforcing their blatant disregard for my life. I survived the kidnapping, even a stabbing where I saved a stranger, only for Andrew to accuse me of faking it all for attention and sympathy while still demanding I return to their gilded cage. Why did my own family hate me so much, even choosing to let me die repeatedly, while showering affection on a girl who clearly manipulated them? I jumped into Lake Michigan, not to end my life, but to escape their suffocating lies and build a new one, free from the ghost of Jocelyn Chavez.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

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.

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.