All works

My five-year-old son stumbled into the hall, his cheek marred by the livid, blistering print of a hand. My phone buzzed with a message from my husband’s mistress, warning me to teach my brat some manners before she taught him a real lesson. Franco Moretti, my husband and the acting Boss of the Romano Syndicate, had allowed his mistress to strike the heir to our empire. When I confronted him, he dismissed the assault as a mere reflex and demanded I stop being dramatic. The silence that followed was heavy and cold. I realized then that my years of playing the docile, obedient wife had only invited disrespect upon my own blood. My mother-in-law echoed his coldness, telling me to look the other way for the sake of peace, as if my son’s pain were merely a trifle to be ignored. I looked at Leo, his small shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, and felt something ancient and hard wake up within me. The man I had married—the predator who ruled Chicago with an iron fist—believed I was weak, a shadow that existed only to serve his crown. He had mistaken my silence for stupidity and my restraint for submission. I stared at the countdown on my phone, the numbers marking the final moments of my long, hollow marriage. I had spent four years playing the role of a placid wife, but the script had dissolved the moment his mistress touched my child. I tapped the screen, silenced my alarm, and ended the call. The time for talk was over; the vendetta had begun.

Nyxara Tavion thought the Moon Goddess finally answered her prayers when Lucian, the Alpha's son, was revealed as her mate but instead of love, she received humiliation - rejected in front of the whole pack, mocked, and discarded. Shattered and desperate, one reckless night throws her into the arms of the last man she should have touched: Alpha Draven Blackthorn, Lucian's father. Now bound by a forbidden bond, carrying a child she never expected, Nyxara must rise from rejection and betrayal to claim her strength, her place in the world.

"Try not to embarrass me out there, Sunshine," Tyler muttered. I rolled my eyes. "I'm not the one with the ego, Sinclair." ********** Flora Morgan lost everything in one day. Her perfect relationship. Her dream job. Her reputation-all because of an embezzlement scandal she knew nothing about. With thirty thousand dollars in debt, the last thing Flora expects is to end up tangled with Tyler Sinclair-the NHL's most feared player. Cold, arrogant and tattooed. The man the media calls The Devil on Ice. One mistaken identity. One outrageous proposal. One fake relationship neither of them wants. Now she's living under the same roof as the most infuriating man she's ever met, smiling for cameras, modeling beside hockey's biggest star, and convincing the entire world they're hopelessly in love. The problem? Fake relationships have a dangerous habit of feeling real. Especially when buried family secrets begin to surface, dangerous enemies start circling, and the past refuses to stay buried. What happens when the cameras stop rolling... but Tyler still calls her his prettiest problem?

For sixteen years, I was the loyal shadow and unmarked bedmate of Darius, the Alpha Heir of the Silver Moon Pack. I took eighteen silver daggers for him, surviving only because of my hidden White Wolf bloodline. But tonight, he tossed a vial of heat-inducing potion onto our bed and ordered me to drug Caleb, the terrifying Supreme Alpha of a rival pack. "Make Vivian think he forced himself on you," he commanded coldly. Darius wanted to ruin Caleb's reputation so Vivian, the noble female who once rejected Darius in disgust, would leave Caleb and come back to him. To Darius, my sixteen years of bloody loyalty and my eighteen silver scars meant less than winning back his childhood crush. He even promised to arrange a random mate for me afterward, wrapping his cruel dismissal in the guise of a reward. Sixteen years of blind devotion turned to ash in my mouth. I was nothing but a disposable shield, a convenient tool to be thrown to a violent predator just to make another woman jealous. I took the potion and walked into the Supreme Alpha's heavily guarded territory, ready to pay my final life debt and cut ties with Darius forever. But when the terrifying Alpha's glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, he didn't tear me apart. Instead, he snapped an ancient mithril bracelet onto my wrist and claimed me as his fated Luna.

For three years, my family's merchant wealth filled the empty vaults of the Obsidian Pack. I was their Luna, bleeding to keep them afloat. But my Alpha mate, Xander, spent my gold on his childhood friend Serena, while his mother secretly fed me Wolfsbane mixed with silver dust to destroy my fertility. They drained my private dowry to buy Serena a mansion and plotted to kill me so she could take my place. When I suffered a severe hemorrhage from their poison, Xander's mother locked my door and priced a cheap pine coffin for me. Even when I risked my life to save a royal pup and got crushed by a burning silver beam, Xander only rushed to comfort Serena's fake tears. "Look what you are doing! You are cruel, Wynne." He used his Alpha Command to force me to my knees, accusing me of bullying a sick orphan while my own flesh was melting from the silver. I didn't marry up; I bought him. I gave them everything, but they treated my life like worthless dirt to make room for his true love. I finally realized that this mate bond was nothing but a rotting chain around my neck. When the Supreme Luna asked what royal grace I desired for saving the pup, I dragged my bleeding, ruined body to the center of the hall. "I ask for permission to reject my Alpha, Xander." I spoke calmly, ready to tear down his pack brick by brick.

I died with the taste of bitter almonds burning in my throat. My husband, Kian Ferguson, watched me collapse over the poisoned wine. He did not call for help. He did not kneel beside me. He only looked at me with cold, satisfied eyes, as if my death had finally made room for the woman he truly wanted—his delicate cousin, Isabelle. In my first life, I begged for his love. I endured his family's humiliation. I drank the bitter tonics they forced upon me in the name of fertility, even as my body grew weaker by the day. I was blamed for an empty nursery, mocked as a barren wife, and trapped in a marriage that was slowly killing me. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back five years in the past, riding beside Kian at the King's autumn hunt—the very day I first saw how he looked at Isabelle. This time, I did not weep. I did not fight for him. I returned to Blackwood Manor and asked for an annulment. Kian laughed in my face. "You want to leave?" he said, seizing my arms. "There are only two ways out of this marriage, Adeline. In a coffin, or with my permission. And I will grant you neither." I went to the King for justice. The Crown turned me away. They all believed I had nowhere left to run. A discarded wife. A useless vine. A woman with no power, no allies, and no future beyond the Duke's gilded cage. They were wrong. I sold my dowry in secret. I bought merchant ships under a hidden name. I gathered remedies, debts, secrets, and gold. If no one would grant me freedom, I would purchase it myself. If no one would give me justice, I would become powerful enough to demand it. And by the time Kian Ferguson realizes his unwanted wife has become the mysterious Nightingale, it will be far too late to cage me again.

-Two rival mafia heirs who hated each other more than anything in this world... until they were married against their will. - It started as a heated rivalry, right from birth, but turnedd into something even crazier when the two most powerful Mafia Bosses, Dex Russo and Elian Virelli, are suddenly thrown into an arranged marriage. Orchestrated by Elian's grandfather and Dex's Father. With two heirs thrown into a cage and tested to see if they would thrive together or be each other's downfall. Blood is bound to flow, sparks will ignite, and fire, hotter and bigger than any of them could ever think of, will consume them. And when it does, no one. No. One. Is going to be able to stop them.

On our seventh anniversary, I walked into my fiancé Brad's office with our marriage paperwork, ready to surprise him with a trip to City Hall. Instead, I found him half-naked with Sienna, a manipulative socialite client. When I caught them, he didn't even apologize. He gaslighted me, secretly stripped my legal protections from our new corporate contract, and brazenly promoted his mistress to be my direct assistant just to humiliate me. The nightmare peaked when Sienna's thug of an uncle assaulted me at a lounge. I fought back, smashing his hand to defend myself. Brad burst into the room, but he didn't check if I was hurt. He looked at me with pure disgust, protected my attacker, and demanded I apologize. "You are making a spectacle. You're embarrassing the family name." I stared at the man I had loved and built a company with for seven years. He knew my deep trauma of being an abandoned foster child, yet he chose to throw me away like garbage to please his new toy. The injustice and sheer cruelty of it made my blood run cold. But I swore long ago I would never be a victim again. I dumped him on the spot, walked out, and blackmailed him to get my rightful money back. While he thinks he's getting ready for our lavish high-society engagement gala next week, I am meticulously setting a trap to broadcast his embezzlement and dirty affair to the entire board of directors.

I made my living playing background piano in underground speakeasies to pay off my fugitive father’s blood debt. Tonight, I had exactly ten seconds to make sure my floor-length velvet gown completely concealed the fact that I no longer had legs. The VIP doors swung open, and the most ruthless mafia Don in the city walked in—Killian Vitiello, the boy I loved a decade ago. He didn't know my legs were crushed by rival soldiers on the very night he took his blood oath. Instead of a reunion, he pulled a beautiful woman in a red silk dress to his side and coldly introduced her as his fiancée. "The rumors of you being a desperate opportunist at least explain why you vanished without a word," he sneered, looking at my threadbare clothes. He publicly disavowed my existence to the entire underworld, leaving me to be hunted by rival factions. While he built his empire, I was crawling in the freezing rain to reattach my heavy metal prosthetic, watching my mother descend into fatal madness from our crushing poverty. I swallowed the bitter ash of my ruined life and let him believe I was a traitorous gold digger. I would rather he hate me forever than let my mutilated body become a fatal weakness to his throne. So, after my mother died, I packed a single bag and fled the country to disappear for good. But I didn't know that on the very day I left, Killian kicked down the door of an illicit underground clinic and finally opened my ten-year-old medical file.

Iris Weaver worked quietly as a surgeon at St. Jude's, hiding her true identity as the heir to a medical dynasty and the legendary underground surgeon, "Nil." Her peaceful life was shattered when she was forced to treat a VIP patient, the famous actress Kelsey Mcknight. But the real nightmare was the man standing next to the actress's bed: Adler Pope, the ruthless billionaire and Iris's estranged husband of four years. For four years, their marriage existed only on paper. Yet here he was, accompanying his rumored celebrity girlfriend, who openly mocked Iris for looking too young to be a real doctor. When Iris later handed him the divorce papers to end the sham, Adler completely flipped. He refused to sign, trapped her in her office, and violently smashed a metal file cabinet just because she calmly stated she wasn't jealous. Iris was utterly baffled by his sudden obsession. Why was he refusing the divorce when he was clearly parading another woman around? Why did he go as far as faking a heart condition just to sit in her clinic and corner her? "My Mrs. Pope has only ever been you." Hearing his hypocritical whisper, Iris felt nothing but cold disgust. Since her billionaire husband wanted to play twisted games, she decided to stop hiding. With her elite medical team secretly flying in from Zurich, it was time for the legendary "Nil" to show him who really held the scalpel.

On the eve of our tenth wedding anniversary, Daniel Carter abruptly canceled our travel plans. "Clara, there's an important wedding tomorrow. I have to be there," he said. "So suddenly… you're the groom?" I masked the sting of disappointment in my eyes and tried to joke lightly. "Yes." Hearing Daniel's unexpected affirmation made my heart skip a beat. Could it be a surprise? The wedding he owed me, Clara Parker… was finally coming. The next day, the wedding hall was filled with guests. Daniel hadn't lied—he was indeed the groom, but the bride… was not me. Meeting my questioning gaze, he leaned close and whispered in my ear. "Don't look at me. I only found out last night that I was getting married today." Without another word, he strode onto the stage and took Emily Morgan's hand. After the vows, Emily navigated through the crowd and placed the bouquet in my hands, smiling serenely. "Dr. Parker, I hope you find your match soon, too."

Evelyn Reed was an Oscar-winning actress and a CEO, about to marry the man she had supported for ten years. But minutes before the wedding, her twin sister Vanessa handed her a glass of poisoned champagne. As Evelyn collapsed, paralyzed on the marble floor, her groom Sean walked in. He didn't help her. Instead, he pulled Vanessa into a passionate embrace. "I'm tired of taking your charity," Sean sneered, declaring he was taking over her entertainment empire. Vanessa, her face twisted with pathological jealousy, grabbed Evelyn's first crystal acting trophy. "It was always supposed to be me," Vanessa screamed, plunging the sharp crystal star deep into Evelyn's chest. They had already paid off a doctor to frame her murder as a sudden heart attack, ready to inherit everything she had built from scratch. As her blood soaked her Vera Wang gown, Evelyn watched the two vipers kiss over her cooling corpse. She had given them fame, money, and her whole heart. Why did they repay her love with such brutal, calculating hatred? When she opened her eyes again, she wasn't in the bridal suite, but thrashing in the freezing ocean. She had been reborn into the body of Cassandra Laurent, a bullied heiress who had just jumped off a yacht to escape an arranged marriage. And the man pulling her out of the water was the ruthless billionaire she was supposed to marry.

Camila Conner was resting in the VIP suite of an exclusive clinic, happily stroking her pregnant belly. She was carrying quadruplets, the ultimate blessing of her three-year fairytale romance with Wall Street titan Carlisle Reyes. But the door didn't open to her loving fiancé. Instead, his cold-faced assistant walked in and threw a document onto her bed. "Sign this. Miss Seraphina needs an immediate transplant," he said, revealing a Bone Marrow Donation Consent Form. Through a chilling speakerphone call, Camila discovered the horrifying truth. The romantic chance encounter, the perfect dates, the fairytale proposal—it was all a meticulously crafted lie. She wasn't his soulmate; she was a perfect genetic match for Seraphina, his childhood friend. Because Seraphina couldn't wait, Carlisle ordered the doctors to perform a forced induced termination. He knew forcibly inducing a high-risk quadruplet pregnancy would cause a fatal uterine rupture. As she was dragged to the operating room, her water breaking and contractions tearing through her, she listened to the man she loved quantify her soul. "Children can be replaced. Camila's death is an acceptable cost," Carlisle told the doctor. The tender kisses and whispered promises were nothing but a calculated investment to harvest her body as a backup marrow bank. Pushed to the brink of death, her shattered heart hardened into pure, absolute hatred. With the secret help of a sympathetic nurse who altered her records to declare her dead on the operating table, Camila crawled into a dark ventilation shaft. She was leaving her old identity behind, and if she and her babies survived this night, she swore she would return to destroy the monster who created them.

Elara carried a dormant second self-Sloane, forged from a year of border warfare after cousin Lydia sold her into slavery. Rescued and amnesiac, Elara forgot it all-until Lydia's poison shattered her gentle host, unleashing the soldier. But she barely had time to reclaim her dark instincts before a grimy groundskeeper lunged at her in the dark woods. Her sweet, smiling cousin Lydia hadn't just poisoned her with the deadly Scarlet Heat toxin. Lydia had paid this man to defile her, wanting Elara's reputation completely annihilated before the poison finally stopped her heart. As the agonizing heat threatened to cook Sloane's brain, Lydia burst into the clearing with a crowd of royal guards and exquisitely dressed nobles. "Oh, Elara! How could you? With a common servant. Have you no shame?" Lydia played the horrified sister perfectly, weeping and screaming about Elara's unimaginable depravity. In the eyes of the disgusted onlookers, Elara's already-tarnished reputation was dead and buried. She should have suffered and died as a destitute orphan, but Lydia stepped over her body, replacing her to become her fiancé's beloved. It was a flawless, vicious trap designed to destroy a helpless noble girl. But Lydia didn't know that the soul inside Elara's body was a battle-hardened soldier. And she certainly didn't know that the "common servant" Sloane had just desperately kissed to survive the poison wasn't the groundskeeper. The crowd's whispers died instantly as the man in the shadows stepped forward, his glacial eyes sweeping over them. It was Damian Sinclair, the terrifying Prince Regent himself, whom Lydia had just accused of being a lowly servant engaged in filth. Sloane crossed her arms, a cold, mocking smile touching her lips as she watched her cousin collapse in terror. The real show was just beginning.

I sat alone on a hard wooden bench in the City Clerk's Office, smoothing the white silk of my wedding dress. It was 10:00 AM, the exact moment I was supposed to marry Arland Rhodes. But Arland never showed up. Instead, a breaking news alert flashed on my phone, showing a high-resolution photo of my fiancé at the airport, tenderly cradling his "first love," Emilie Blackburn, in his arms. Seven years of my life were erased in a single paparazzi shot. When I finally saw him, he didn't apologize; he just said Emilie had a panic attack and needed him. My own mother called me a humiliation to the family reputation, and Arland's assistant tried to buy my silence with a pink diamond necklace. That night, Arland moved Emilie into our penthouse, telling me to be "reasonable" because she had security issues. "It's just logistics, Isolde. Don't make this into something it isn't." He thought I was the perfect, drama-free partner who would wait forever. He didn't notice when I began systematically dismantling our life, replacing my priceless antiques with cheap replicas and liquidating my shares in his company. He was too busy playing hero to a woman who faked heart palpitations every time he looked at me. He truly believed he could fix a lifetime of neglect with a "do-over" date and a silver convertible he had actually ordered for her. I realized then that Arland didn't love me; he loved that I was convenient. I had spent seven years building a life on a foundation of sand, and I was done being the silent, understanding fiancée. On the morning he finally showed up at City Hall to "make it up to me," I was nowhere to be found. I had already coerced fifteen million dollars out of him as a "security fee" and signed a marriage contract with his most ruthless rival, Esequiel Stone. As Arland stood at the altar waiting for a bride who would never come, I was boarding a private jet to the Capital. The hunt had officially begun, and this time, I wasn't the prey.

I was seven months pregnant, happily planning a perfect future with my fiancé, Evan. But my adopted sister, Seraphina, smilingly revealed that the baby in my belly was a bastard. She confessed she had drugged me five years ago, letting a random Alpha violate me, while Evan watched and helped her cover it up. When confronted, Evan didn't even deny it. Instead, he rushed to comfort Seraphina when she faked an injury, coldly blaming me for making a scene. He ended our relationship right there, choosing her. Heartbroken and dazed, I wandered into the street, got hit by a speeding car, and lost my innocent baby. For the next five years, Seraphina stole my life. She became a famous movie star and Evan's fiancée, using her status to ruin my acting career and humiliate me at every turn. I lost my child, my love, and my future all because of their sick jealousy. Why did they get to live perfectly while I suffered in the dirt? I swore I would never let them break me again. Fate took a sudden turn when I accidentally saved a sick, silent little boy during one of Seraphina's cruel pranks. His father turned out to be Barron Valerius, the ruthless billionaire Alpha King of the underworld. Instead of offering me a cash reward, the most powerful man in the city stared at me with intense, predatory eyes. "Marry me. It is the only form of repayment I will accept." With the Alpha King suddenly claiming me as his son's anchor, I finally had the power to make Evan and Seraphina pay.

"You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?" I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin. "You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs. "Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please." "Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled. "Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his. *+*+*+*+*+*+* Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?

Imagine this. Your husband carries another woman out of a burning building. He doesn't recognize you. You're just the doctor. You're nobody. Same night, you find out you're not nobody. You're a secret billionaire heiress. Your real family has been searching for you for twenty-five years. You sign the divorce papers. He thinks you'll come back. One week later, you show up to the biggest gala of the year. White dress. Diamond earrings. On the arm of a man richer, hotter, and ten times more powerful than your ex. Your ex-husband's face when he sees you? Priceless. His mistress's face when she gets escorted out by security? Even better. And the new man? He's been waiting for you his entire life. He doesn't play games. He doesn't have a mistress. He just looks at you like you're the only woman in the room. This is not a love story about a girl waiting for a boy to choose her. This is a love story about a girl who chose herself. And then got everything she ever deserved.

Elara Voss thought one wild night at a lounge would set her free from her dull new life after her mom married rich Victor Blackwood. She gave her tight virgin body to a hot stranger with gray eyes that promised sin. His thick cock stretched her wet pussy until she begged for more, her first time raw and full of dark need. He left her sore and smiling, whispering they would never meet again. But fate twisted hard when he walked in as her new stepbrother, Damien Blackwood, the young CEO taking over the family firm. Shock hit her like a slap, his touch now forbidden but craved. He cornered her, fingers rubbing her clit while growling claims over her cherry. As lust burned hot, secrets spilled: Damien sought revenge on Victor for old hurts, tied to shady deals and danger. Elara fell deep into his possessive grip, her body dripping for his rough fucks, but betrayal loomed. Syndicate threats closed in, guns and proof that could ruin them all. In this dark romance, Elara must choose between family and the stepbrother who owns her soul and her slick, needy cunt. Will their filthy love survive the storm, or shatter in blood and cum?

In my past life, I was dismissed as a weak, wolfless Omega, yet I was fated to Keaton Sexton, the most powerful Alpha of the Blackwood Moon pack. But at the Matriarch's annual gala, my stepsister Allegra and a rogue wolf named Freddy set a lethal trap for me. They publicly tricked me into accepting a wooden box supposedly containing a rare healing flower, but hidden beneath it was deadly wolfsbane. Allegra immediately "discovered" the poison, screaming that I was conspiring with a rogue to murder our pack members. Keaton, enraged and believing I had betrayed our sacred bond for another man, threw me to the pack's merciless justice. My innocent-looking stepsister cried fake tears of heartbreak as the warriors dragged me away. I was stripped of my title, tortured, and ultimately executed. My blood stained the forest floor, my wolf silenced forever. Until the moment I died, I couldn't understand why my own family wanted me dead. Why did Keaton, my fated mate, look at me with such absolute disgust? Why was my innocence so easily shattered by a pathetic lie? Then, a blinding pain in my wrist snapped my eyes open. I was back at the gala, fifteen years old again, standing right in front of a furious Keaton as he accused me of meeting the rogue. This time, instead of fighting him and defending a snake, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. "I'm sorry, Keaton. I only belong to you." Allegra's perfect smile froze. She had no idea the weak sister she was trying to frame had just returned from hell to drag her down.