The Kidney He Gave, The Love She Denied

Yearning For Your Heart

When Marilyn prepares a surprise for her husband, she finds out that he has been cheating on her with her best friend. To make things worse, it turns out that their marriage was nothing but a scam to steal her inheritance. In her despair, she runs into Ethan, an attractive man who has been drugged and ends up sleeping with him. Marilyn doesn't think of it as anything more than a one night stand with a strange man, but Ethan immediately falls for her. Unknown to her, she gradually becomes addicted to his tenderness...

Broken Canvas, Unbroken Spirit Rises

I had just sold my entire art collection, a massive sum that was supposed to be our new beginning. I couldn't wait to see the look on my husband Axel's face. But when he walked through the door, he didn't see a successful artist. He saw a cheater. "Who did you sleep with for that money?" he spat, his words fueled by his mother's poison. His rage exploded. He tore my studio apart, shredding my life's work. Then he turned on me, kicking my pregnant belly until I miscarried our child on the floor of my ruined dreams. As I lay there, bleeding and broken, a call came from the fertility clinic. The paternity test was positive. The baby he had just killed was his own. He fell to his knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. But the man I married was gone. He had destroyed my art, my mother, and my child. Now, it was my turn to destroy him.

The Scapegoat Heiress's Grand Comeback

I gave up my family's fortune and a political dynasty for my fiancé of five years, Hoyt. I chose him over everything for a simple life. But when his socialite mistress, Bella, got a DUI, he demanded I take the fall. When I told him I was pregnant, he ordered me to get an abortion. "I'm in love with Bella," he said, his eyes cold. "I always have been." He brought her into our home. At a fundraiser, she tripped me, and as I lay bleeding on the floor, Hoyt walked away. His mother then had me abducted from the hospital, and in a cold, abandoned warehouse, I lost our child. They took everything from me-my love, my future, my baby. They thought they had erased me, the quiet, unassuming grant writer they saw as a convenient scapegoat. They were wrong. At their glamorous engagement party, I made my entrance. And with me, my grandfather, Senator Abelardo Brown. They had no idea who they'd just declared war on.

My Forced Marriage To A Coma Knight

Eleanore POV: My family forced me to marry Kayson Knight, a man who'd been in a coma for five years. It was a sacrifice to save our family's legacy, a life sentence I accepted for their sake. But on my adopted sister Josie's birthday, she framed me for stealing a family heirloom. My parents, who had always favored her, didn't hesitate. "Guards! Search her!" my father roared. They pinned me down in front of all their guests. My brother held my arms while my childhood sweetheart looked away. They had already pushed me down the stairs and left me for dead once before. They had taken my kidney for Josie. This was just the final humiliation. But they didn't know my secret. I had been recording Josie's lies for weeks. As the guards' hands closed on me, I screamed, "You want the truth? Let's hear it then!" and pressed play on the hidden recorder.

The Unwanted Mistress Becomes The Rival's Queen

The moment Damien shoved me into a waiter's tray to catch his brother's widow, I knew I had lost. For eight years, I was his sanctuary. But Vivian was carrying the "Family Heir," and that made her a saint. He didn't just catch her; he moved her into the Master Suite—the room he had promised to me—while I was relegated to the guest wing like a servant. When Vivian whispered the truth to me with a smirk—that her late husband was sterile and she had drugged Damien to fake the timeline—I rushed to tell him. "She's lying about the baby, Damien! Aaron was sterile!" But he didn't believe me. "Enough of your jealousy, Estelle," he roared, shielding her. "You will respect the mother of my legacy." To prove my submission, he forced me to take her wedding dress shopping. When a heavy iron rack tipped over in the boutique, Damien moved with inhuman speed. He dove to protect Vivian, wrapping her in a safe cocoon. He left me standing there. The metal crashed down, crushing my ribs and pinning me to the floor. As I gasped for air, tasting blood, I watched him carry her out without looking back once. I woke up in the hospital to the sound of him comforting her in the next room. He hadn't even asked if I survived. That night, I didn't cry. I ripped the IV from my arm, shredded every photo of us in the penthouse, and boarded a plane to a neutral territory where the Don's power meant nothing. By the time he found the engagement ring I left in the trash, I was already gone.

Too Late For His Love

I was the genius who built my husband Blake' s billion-dollar empire. For ten years, I was his secret weapon, the ghost in the machine who wrote the code that made him a king. But when he fell for his doe-eyed intern, Cassidy, the man I loved became a monster. He threatened to throw our five-year-old son from his private jet just to get her back. But that was nothing. When Cassidy faked a fatal illness, he orchestrated a car crash that left me paralyzed on an operating table, my body a harvest ground for his new obsession. I was awake but unable to move as they took my bone marrow. I heard him give the order: "Keep her alive. If this doesn't work, she has another kidney we can use." He thought he had broken me, that I was just another asset to be parted out. He forgot one thing: a genius always has a contingency plan. I activated Project Chimera, an escape protocol I' d built years ago. As the military helicopter lifted off with my son and me, I gave my final order: "Wipe the servers. Burn the lab to the ground." He could have his little bird. I was taking everything else.

Burned By Him, Reborn A Star

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

The Forgotten Mother's Vow: Taking Back What's Hers

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.

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

I arrived at the hotel with Julian's favorite takeout, ready to surprise my fiancé before our big merger. But the moment I swiped the keycard, the silence of the hallway felt heavy and wrong. Inside, a red-soled stiletto lay on the marble floor-the same one I'd watched my best friend Lila try on at Saks last week. Through the cracked bedroom door, I watched Julian's back arch as Lila looked me straight in the eye and smiled, wrapping her legs tighter around him to mock my heartbreak. I fled to the penthouse to hide, only to find Grafton, Julian's "crippled" brother, waiting in the dark. To my horror, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed stood up from his wheelchair, gripped my chin with cold fingers, and forced me to sign a contract that gave him control of my family's shares. He knew about my mother's secret medical bills and used them to buy my silence, effectively turning my life into a calculated game of corporate chess. The betrayal tasted like acid, and the injustice of it all burned in my throat. My fiancé was a liar, my best friend was a thief, and the man now controlling my fate was a predator who had been faking his disability for years. I couldn't understand how everyone I trusted had turned out to be a monster. I was trapped between a man who cheated on me and a man who wanted to own me, with no way out and no one to turn to. But when Julian came looking for me, Grafton didn't hide; he stood tall, looming over me with a possessive glint in his eyes. "Help me destroy Julian," I rasped, realizing that to survive the Faulkner men, I had to become the most dangerous player of them all.

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."

Marrying A Secret Zillionaire: Happy Ever After

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.