Edilaine Beckert
16 Published Stories
Edilaine Beckert's Books and Stories
Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Romance I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins.
My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door.
But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday.
Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract.
The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing.
If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case.
"Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed."
I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash.
I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood.
Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world.
I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country.
Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt. Too Late For Regret:The Billionaire Cherishes Me
Romance Julissa stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. After two years of a freezing marriage to billionaire Haskell Francis, she hoped this baby would finally bridge the gap between them.
But just as she planned to surprise him, a gossip news alert popped up on her phone. The photo showed her husband looking with unguarded tenderness at a five-year-old girl, while his "widowed childhood friend" Anastasia leaned intimately on his shoulder.
When she called him that night, he coldly claimed he was busy with a contract.
Yet, through the receiver, Julissa clearly heard a little girl's sweet voice call out, "Daddy!"
When she finally confronted the "happy family" in a department store, Haskell didn't apologize. Instead, his bodyguards blocked her friend, and he forcefully dragged Julissa into his car to protect his precious public image.
"I will not allow my marriage to become a laughingstock."
He flatly refused her plea for a divorce. Worse, he coldly informed her that Anastasia and the little girl would be moving into their marital home next week. If she didn't accept it, he would completely destroy her father's company.
Trapped in this suffocating nightmare, Julissa touched her still-flat stomach, her heart turning to solid ice.
Looking at the cruel monster beside her, she knew her days of playing the obedient Mrs. Francis were over. Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge
Modern The doctor gave Tessa exactly ninety days to live before her failing organs completely shut down.
Stepping out of the clinic, her phone buzzed with a photo from her husband's mistress showing his custom watch on tangled hotel sheets.
"Last night was exhausting. He really does not like going home to you, does he?"
For three years, Tessa had been treated like a ghost while Lucian showered Vanessa with endless devotion. The cruelty peaked when Vanessa brazenly stole Tessa's masterpiece painting. When Tessa tried to stop the theft, Lucian ordered his bodyguards to pin his sick wife against the wall.
"Are you trying to extort more money by staging an assault?"
He threw a five-million-dollar check at her face and escorted his mistress away, leaving Tessa collapsing on the floor in physical agony.
Why should Vanessa have everything—the love, the health, the future—while Tessa was left to die in pain and utter humiliation?
She refused to fade away quietly. She altered their prenup to demand a three-hundred-million-dollar divorce settlement and used his limitless black card to hire the city's most expensive male escort, completely unaware the masked man she bought was her own furious husband in disguise.
At the grand society gala, as Vanessa basked in the applause for the stolen artwork, Tessa stepped into the spotlight and held up a silver USB drive. The Ruthless Captain's Secretly Pampered Star
Modern Aries Mathis stared at the glowing projector screen, his blood running completely cold.
For two years, he thought his mentor and former captain, Elias Beck, had simply left for a massive signing bonus in Europe.
But the financial report in front of him revealed a much sicker truth.
Elias had secretly sold Aries' contract to the highest bidder, packaging his own prodigy up like a commodity to line his pockets before abandoning him.
Now, Elias was back in North America, building a new esports empire from scratch.
The betrayal crushed Aries, turning his devastation into a blinding, toxic rage. He spiraled into a self-destructive frenzy, publicly executing Elias's new players in official matches, terrorizing them until their hands physically shook.
He hated Elias with every fiber of his being, yet the gaping hole in his chest screamed with agonizing confusion.
Why did the man who once saved him from the streets throw him away like a stray dog?
Driven to the edge, Aries cornered Elias at a VIP club, lining up ten shot glasses on a table.
"One is pure, high-proof whiskey. The rest are iced tea."
Aries sneered, knowing Elias had a severe stomach ulcer that could put him in the hospital.
"Pick the whiskey, and I sign with your new team for free."
Elias looked at Aries' broken eyes, reached out, and swallowed the liquid in one gulp.
There was no burn. All ten glasses were sweet iced tea.
As Aries fled the club in a blind panic, Elias smiled, pulling out his phone to text his lawyer.
"Liquidate my personal portfolio. I am bringing him home." Jilted By The Heir, Married The Don
Mafia I was sitting in the Presidential Suite in my heavy silk wedding dress, waiting to marry the heir of the Moretti syndicate to save my family from insurmountable debt.
Then, my assistant handed me the morning tabloid.
My fiancé, Marco, had fled to Paris with a half-dressed chorus girl, declaring to the world that he was breaking his chains.
My father burst into the room, terrified that rival families would slaughter us by midnight, and demanded I go beg the Morettis for mercy.
But the Moretti family's ruthless matriarch and their 'Fixer' had a different plan.
To cover up Marco's cowardice and protect their syndicate's reputation, they decided to tell the press that my bloodline was "impure" and cancel the wedding.
Even Marco's slimy cousin tried to grope me, offering to take me off their hands as his leftover prize.
They were going to nail me and my entire family to a cross of public shame just to save their own pride.
I was nothing but collateral, surrounded by cowards, pawns, and opportunists who were ready to devour me to save their own necks.
But I refused to be the scapegoat for a spineless boy.
If I was going to be a piece on the board, I would be played by the hand of the King.
I gathered my heavy skirt, walked straight into the private parlor of the apex predator himself—Don Dante Moretti—and slammed the tabloid on his mahogany desk.
"Don't cancel the wedding." I looked the most dangerous man in New York dead in the eye. "Marry me." The Alpha Who Tried To Break Me
Werewolf The night I met my Fated Mate was supposed to be a dream.
Instead, the sacred bond became a one-way ticket into his twisted mind. I heard the truth: Alpha Kade Vargr only wanted my family’s money, and his heart belonged to his manipulative sister, Lila.
He tried to break me, orchestrating an “accident” that left me bleeding in a ravine just to teach me a lesson. Then, at my own party, he humiliated me by broadcasting my most shameful memory for everyone to see.
My soulmate was a monster, and I was his plaything.
But when I confronted him, he swore a sacred oath on his soul that it wasn't him.
Then, to protect his guilty sister, he stood before our people and confessed to the crime anyway.
He made his choice.
And I made my vow: I would destroy them both. Neglected Luna: Her White Wolf Rises
Werewolf They call me the "invisible wife," the domestic servant with a title. For eighteen years, I played the role of the weak, submissive Luna to my Alpha husband, Anthony.
But the scent of overripe peaches and another wolf's musk on his custom suit shattered my illusion.
He wasn't just cheating; he was popping illegal Bond-Blockers to numb our sacred connection, hiding his betrayal while I catered to his every whim.
Desperate for the truth, I tracked him to the Moonlight Hotel. I expected to find him in bed with his mistress, Katia.
I didn't expect to hear my own teenage son, Jacob, laughing with them.
"Mom is just a human in a wolf's skin," he sneered through the door. "I'm ashamed she's my mother. Katia is what a real Luna looks like."
His words cut deeper than any blade. They mocked my lack of scent. They called me a defect.
They didn't know the jagged scar on my chest exists because I poured my entire essence into Jacob's dying lungs the night he was born.
I became "weak" solely to keep him alive.
And this is how they repay me? By plotting to replace me with the woman spending my inheritance?
They want a powerful Luna? They're about to get one.
I wiped my tears and looked in the mirror, my hazel eyes flashing a blinding, predatory silver.
The White Wolf has been dormant for sixteen years, but tonight, at the Pack Gala, she wakes up to hunt. The Lover Who Became My Killer
Mafia The first time I kidnapped my lover's mistress, he had me killed for it. I gave him eight years, built his empire brick by bloody brick, and was secretly carrying his child.
But for a fragile art student, he had me drugged on a gurney.
I was awake as a back-alley doctor cut our baby from my womb. I heard our child's single cry, then silence.
"Anything that threatens her, I will destroy," he whispered, his voice void of all emotion. "Even you. Even our child."
He then left me for his men to violate and discard. My last thought was that I was just a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn.
But then my eyes snapped open.
I was in my car, my stomach flat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The date on my phone seared itself into my brain. I was back on the day of the first kidnapping.
This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice. This time, I would survive. Three Years, One Big Lie
Romance I donated my kidney to save my fiancé's sister. For three years, I loved him, cared for her, and planned our future, never knowing the life I was building was a lie.
Then, a text from an unknown number arrived. It was a picture of a marriage certificate from two years ago. Groom: my fiancé, Dock. Bride: his "sister," Brianna.
He admitted it all when I confronted him. He was already married to her when he proposed to me. My love, my sacrifice, was just a way for her to get on his insurance to cover the transplant. He told me she was coming home from the hospital, and I needed to pack my things and leave.
Just hours before, my own doctor had called. The donation had put me at high risk, and now I had aggressive, terminal cancer.
As I drove away from the house we shared, my phone buzzed again. Pictures from Brianna. Them kissing on a beach. A positive pregnancy test. I had given them my health, my future, and my heart, and they had left me with nothing but a death sentence.
The world spun into a blur of headlights and screaming metal.
But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the wreckage. I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache radiating from my side. The anesthetic from my kidney donation surgery was just wearing off. Through the door, my fiancé walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. This time, I knew the truth. The Unloved Bride: Her Heart's Legacy
Fantasy I' ve been dead for three years.
From the quiet place I existed, I watched my family's tech company crumble, my father's health fail, and my mother turn into a ghost of her former self.
My beautiful sister, Brittany, had five fiancés, each dying before their wedding day, a tragedy the papers called a curse.
Desperate, my father hired Madame Zelda, a spiritual medium, to banish the "restless spirit" causing their misery.
She walked in, took one look, and declared, "The problem isn' t a curse on this house. It' s a spirit. Your youngest daughter, Chloe."
My mother' s reaction chilled me to my core: "That little brat. Even dead she' s causing trouble! Always bringing us misery! She was a jinx from the day she was born!"
That night, I watched her drag every last one of my belongings into the backyard and set them ablaze. If I could go back, she screamed, she' d make sure I never saw the light of day.
I always knew no one loved me, but I never understood why. They were so worried about ghosts, yet the real monsters lived right there, down the hall.
When Miller Innovations finally collapsed, my father' s heart gave out again.
More desperate, they called Madame Zelda, begging her to banish me for good.
"The energy is not coming from your current home. It' s stronger elsewhere. The old family estate. The place she was last seen. That is the source."
My mother, frantic, shouted, "We have to dig her up! We have to burn her bones!"
Brittany, ever the angel, rushed to comfort her, "Poor Chloe… she must be in so much pain to lash out like this. We have to help her find peace."
But I saw the cold, calculating satisfaction flash in her eyes.
They were coming for me, convinced they were victims fighting a monster.
At the estate, as my father and uncles dug into the earth, Brittany sobbed, "I was the one who convinced her to come here that day. She said she wanted to bury a time capsule."
A phantom pain hit me. I wasn' t excited; I was terrified.
Their shovels struck something hard-a small, cheap wooden box. Not a coffin, just a crate.
They pried it open, expecting bones.
But the coffin was empty.
Panic erupted. My aunt shrieked, "The demon has taken her body!"
Madame Zelda picked up a mud-caked digital photo frame from the bottom of the box. "The spirit is not in the ground. It is in the truth."
She powered it on. The screen flickered to life, showing me as a happy child, then as a teenager, full of trust, thanking Brittany.
Brittany collapsed, sobbing, "I just wanted her to be happy!"
My parents comforted her, then looked at the empty coffin and the frame with renewed anger.
They still thought I was mocking them. But I saw Brittany' s eyes turn cold and hard. Her grief was a performance. My Sister's Secret Love
Billionaires My life with Ethan, a wealthy real estate mogul, was perfect. Five years married, his adoring gaze never wavered, and our first baby, a girl, was eagerly anticipated. I truly believed he loved me.
Then came the crash. From my hospital bed, a shocking headline jumped out: "Philly Mogul Ethan Reed's Secret Proposal in New Orleans?" The accompanying photo confirmed my worst fear: Ethan, on one knee, proposing to my own sister, Olivia.
He rushed to my side, seemingly distraught, but I sensed the lie. I found hidden love letters and photos in his safe-proof of his long-held obsession with Olivia. Her private journals revealed she'd sacrificed her love, pushing him to me as a "placeholder" for my happiness. Every tender word from Ethan now felt like a taunt. I overheard him confess: our marriage was Olivia's idea, a misguided charade for my benefit.
My "perfect" marriage was a cruel, meticulously crafted deception. He never loved me, only her. The ultimate betrayal solidified at a charity gala: a fire broke out, and he instinctively shielded Olivia, abandoning his pregnant wife in the chaos without a second glance.
That was my breaking point. I sent him the divorce papers he' d unknowingly signed, shattered my SIM card, and quietly terminated the pregnancy. I vanished, leaving him in his opulent, empty world to face the solitary consequences of his deceit. Grandma's Game Plan
Modern My name is Sarah Miller, and at twenty-two, my suburban New Jersey life felt like it was shrinking daily.
The reason? Brenda Hayes, my father's "executive assistant," a title as flimsy as her tight dresses, who was steadily dismantling our family.
She was younger than my mom, Carol, and my father, Rick, was completely under Brenda's spell, treating my kind, gentle mother like a faded photograph.
I watched my mother's spirit dim, powerless, full of a quiet sadness that broke my heart.
I saw the truth about Brenda and Rick' s affair, but my desperate protests only made my father angry and defensive, and earned me Brenda's chilling, venomous glare.
One evening, driving home from my part-time library job, blinding headlights and screeching tires suddenly filled my vision.
A monstrous crash. Pain, then utter darkness.
My life, systematically destroyed by what I instinctively knew was Brenda' s work, became a body in a hospital bed, entangled in wires and tubes, in a persistent vegetative state.
They called it a hit-and-run, convenient, but I was a prisoner in my own skull, aware of the injustice, burning with a helpless rage.
Then, a flicker.
I woke up.
But it wasn' t my own body, nor was I in my sterile hospital room.
My consciousness had inexplicably lodged itself inside my grandmother Esther' s body, recovering from a minor heart procedure in a different hospital.
And when I saw the newspaper on the bedside table, a chilling realization hit me.
The date was three months before my accident.
I was in the past, in my grandmother' s aging body.
This wasn't just impossible; it was a miraculous, terrifying chance.
A chance to save my mother from her slow demise.
A chance to stop Brenda Hayes before she could ruin everything.
A cold, unyielding fury, sharpened by my previous helplessness, solidified within Esther' s frame.
Brenda Hayes was finally going to pay, and this time, I had a plan. Not His Story Anymore
Romance Olivia stood in our penthouse, divorce papers clutched in her hand. New York City lights glittered outside, a familiar backdrop. But for me, this wasn't just déjà vu; it was a living nightmare I' d already survived.
My heart didn't race, my hands didn't shake. I knew this scene too well. The last time, she came with tears, begging me to save Liam, her dead best friend' s brother, from a minor scandal. I refused, convinced she' d choose me. That choice led to my utter destruction: a framed accusation, a mysterious illness dismissed as "stress," and eventually, the pills that almost ended it all.
Now, the cycle was spinning again. Liam, a rising influencer, caught in yet another scandalous "intimate moment" with Olivia. Her sustainable fashion brand' s IPO was on the line, and #OliversBoyToy was trending. My wife stood before me, trembling, just as I remembered, "Ethan, we need to do this. For Liam. For Aura. It' s just strategic." Liam stood behind her, a triumphant smirk on his face. He' d won again.
A strange calm settled over me then - the calm of a man who had faced the absolute worst and survived. The sheer audacity, the blatant replay of a script that nearly killed me, filled me not with anger, but with a cold, clear recognition. How could I ever be enough for someone who constantly chose this parasitic man over me?
When I said, "Okay, I' ll sign them," Olivia stared, her mouth agape, expecting a fight. But I had one crucial condition, a non-negotiable term for this final act: "Once this is done, you never contact me again. We' re done. For good." This time, I choose my own ending. This time, I walk away. Reborn From His Flames
Romance One minute, I was burning alive, choking on thick smoke, watching my little girl Lily whimper beside me as Ethan’s hate-filled face glowed against the inferno.
The next, my eyes snapped open, and I was back at the lake house party, the very nexus where my tragic first life began, with my brother Mike approaching, red cups in hand, ready to unknowingly poison my future.
Every horrifying detail of my past life flashed before me: the spiked drink, the forced marriage, the birth of my sweet Lily, and then Ethan’s chilling accusation – "This is for Olivia. You and her, you’re why she’s gone." – moments before he condemned us to the flames on Lily’s third birthday.
My entire existence was a brutal, fiery brand seared into my very soul, all ignited by this one night, this simple, seemingly innocent red cup.
He blamed *me* and my innocent three-year-old daughter for his perfect Olivia’s car crash, orchestrated my destruction, and now I was back, staring into the face of my impending doom.
An unbearable terror twisted my guts, pleading for a way to break this agonizing loop.
"No," I whispered, panic clawing at my throat as I backed away from the offered drink, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my phone.
I devised a desperate, selfish lie to send Olivia – anything to disrupt this timeline and carve out a new, free future for myself.
I had to save myself. Red Roses and Regret
LGBT+ The acrid smell hit me first, then our fourth-floor apartment shook. My boyfriend, Mark, was already at the door, his eyes wide.
"Chloe," he muttered, and just like that, he was gone – running through the chaos, not to check on me, but to his childhood friend, Chloe.
I stumbled out into the smoke-filled hallway alone, my heart pounding. When I found them, he was stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances while she leaned heavily on him, perfectly fine. He hadn't even looked for me.
No guilt, no panic for my safety, just a flicker of… annoyance as our eyes met. Later, she’d chirp, “Mark was so worried about you!” A blatant lie.
Then his friends revealed the crushing truth: I wasn't just second choice; I was a placeholder, a consolation prize, only good enough for him when Chloe was unavailable.
I felt a cold rage. This wasn't just a spat; it was a pattern of neglect, of being unseen, unheard, always playing second fiddle to his “duty” and “obligation” to her.
The ultimate insult came when Chloe staged a panic attack in our shared apartment, wearing his robe, scattering their "memory jar," and he rushed to her side, utterly dismissing me again, her fragile act once more trumping *everything*.
That was the absolute end. I walked away from the apartment, from him, from that suffocating life. I threw myself into my career, transforming betrayal into fierce independence. But just as I started to breathe again, building my own empire, he reappeared, asking for "one more chance." Will I finally break free, or will the weight of our past pull me back into his orbit? My Generosity, Their Greed
Modern I thought I was doing a good deed, helping out an old university acquaintance, Brittany, by investing significantly in her sister Jessica’s coffee shop.
I even became their most loyal customer, promoting "The Daily Grind" to all my friends and always paying full price for my lattes.
Then, I found out casual customers were getting “VIP” perks like free refills, while I, the primary investor, paid for every single thing.
But the real shock came when Jessica’s young son blurted out, "Mommy, is that the lady you said is a sucker? You said she's rich and should pay more!"
The air in the café went cold as Brittany emerged, casually telling me, "Kids say the darndest things," then added, "People with means helping out a bit more, it's just part of supporting the community, isn't it?"
I was burning with humiliation, fury, and a seething sense of betrayal.
How could these women, who received my generous investment and benefited from my constant support, see me as nothing but a "sucker" to be exploited?
They had no idea they were about to face a very different kind of "sucker." You might like
Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Edilaine Beckert I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins.
My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door.
But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday.
Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract.
The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing.
If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case.
"Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed."
I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash.
I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood.
Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world.
I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country.
Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt. The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back
Xiao Ye For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company.
On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project."
Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy.
He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left.
He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish.
He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent.
Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering.
She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool.
He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute.
Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him.
Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years.
"I'm ready. I want to come home."
It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress. Old Lady of the Apex Crown
Xiao Ye I was the financial backbone of the Rust Hounds MC, keeping my patched-member husband, French, and his scrap-metal club afloat with my private wealth.
But I returned to the clubhouse one afternoon only to find him half-naked on the sofa with my half-sister, Hettie.
Instead of apologizing, he sneered and demanded I accept her.
"The club needs legacy. Hettie can actually give me an heir, unlike a cold mechanic."
When I immediately cut off their funding, his entire family turned into rabid dogs.
They tried to physically seize my family's titanium mining deeds and leaked a security video of me being carried out of a dive bar by a "nameless drifter" to frame me for infidelity.
Even my own father showed up to the club's tribunal to strip my surname, demanding I sign over my assets before they broke my legs and banished me.
I had bled for this club and this family for years, only to be thrown to the wolves so they could steal my inheritance.
They really thought I was just a disposable Old Lady they could humiliate, break, and cast aside into the dirt without consequence.
What on earth gave them the confidence to think I would just roll over and die?
They didn't know that the "filthy nobody" who saved me that night was Camden Diaz, the Apex President of the Iron Kings, the most feared outlaw empire in North America.
And his heavily armed enforcers had just blown the doors off their little tribunal. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Reborn Daughter: The Family's Blood Bag Is A Legendary Agent
Harman Lowry I woke up in a body that wasn't mine.
One life I was Aurora-a legendary operative who died in a hail of shrapnel. The other life belonged to June Chaney, a seventeen-year-old girl drained dry by her adoptive family for nine years, used as a walking blood bag for their precious biological daughter.
Now I'm her. And I remember everything.
The first thing I did? I looked my so-called mother in the eye, told her exactly what she'd been doing to me, and walked out the door without looking back.
They thought I was weak. They thought I'd crawl back.
They have no idea who they just set free.
Because the girl they abused is gone. In her place is someone who can spot a million-dollar artifact in a pile of junk, haggle with underground dealers, and take down two armed men in an alley without breaking a sweat. Someone who can perform emergency surgery with seven silver needles and hack a cyberbully's entire social media existence in under five minutes.
I have two lifetimes of knowledge burning in my skull. I have five million dollars in my account. And I have a list of people who need to learn what happens when you mess with the wrong girl.
My adoptive family thinks they can drag me back.
My real family is searching for me after eighteen years.
And somewhere out there, a powerful man is watching my every move-trying to figure out who I really am.
Let them come. Let them all come.
I've died once. I've been used, drained, and thrown away. This time?
I'm the one holding all the cards.
"I know everything I need to know. From this day forward, your daughter won't receive a single drop of my blood. Find another supply."
I walked out that door. I'm never going back. The Fake Wife's Spectacular Genius Comeback
Da Lanlan For five years, Chloe's only goal was to build a family with her billionaire husband, Julian.
But at the fertility clinic, a nurse accidentally handed her the wrong clipboard.
The pregnant patient's name was Isabelle, and the emergency contact was Julian Sterling, complete with his unmistakable signature.
Tracking his car to a private club, Chloe peered through a cracked door and saw Julian lounging with a pregnant woman.
"Don't worry about Chloe," Julian laughed to his friends. "That fake marriage certificate is all it takes to keep her happy. She's just a free, live-in caretaker."
A trip to the city archives confirmed the brutal truth: there was no record of their wedding. She was legally single.
Her entire life was a carefully constructed fraud. The billion-dollar company she helped build with her genius patents was entirely in his name.
He even moved the pregnant mistress into their penthouse, claiming she had a stalker.
Worse, Chloe found hidden Ambien pills in his nightstand. He had been secretly drugging her every night just so he could sneak into the guest room to sleep with Isabelle.
Five years of absolute devotion, rewarded with a fake marriage, stolen life's work, and chemical assault.
How could the man she loved be such a calculating monster?
Sitting in the dark, the last ember of her love turned to ash.
Chloe wiped her tears, transferred her assets, and put on her sharpest power suit.
She wasn't going to just leave; she was going to tear his empire to the ground. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract
Sibeal Sallese I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash.
To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars.
I thought it was a clean transaction.
But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty.
He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me.
My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire.
Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner.
"Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly.
His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand.
"Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler."
They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog.
I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth.
But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood.
"She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison."
They murdered my parents.
I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call.
Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell. Jilted Bride: The Billionaire Heiress Returns
rabb Brenna stood at the altar, the ring on her finger a quiet promise of her three-year relationship with Kadin Mccormick.
But when the priest asked for his vow, Kadin backed away.
The cathedral doors swung open, and his ex-girlfriend, Hayleigh, stood crying in the sunlight.
Kadin rushed to embrace her, leaving Brenna behind as he coldly addressed the crowd.
"The wedding is off. What Brenna and I had was just a transaction."
The humiliation didn't stop there. Kadin's sister shoved her, tearing her wedding dress, while his mother threw a five-million-dollar check at her face.
"Take this compensation and disappear. You are no longer welcome here."
Kicked out into a torrential downpour with nothing but her dead mother's wooden box, Brenna was hit by a speeding delivery truck.
Lying in a pool of blood, she felt her life slipping away.
After three years of devotion, she was treated like disposable trash, betrayed by the man she loved and trampled by his arrogant family.
Was this pathetic end really what she deserved?
But fate had other plans. When she opened her eyes in a VIP hospital ward, she found she had been saved by New York's most powerful billionaire, Dillon Blackburn.
And a distinguished man stood by her bed, revealing a truth that changed everything.
She wasn't a nobody from a dead-end town. She was the true heiress of the Sinclair Group.
Looking at the torn settlement check on the floor, Brenna chose to claim her birthright. The game was just beginning. Building My Empire in the Frozen Apocalypse
Tester [Survival Game + Game Invasion + Extreme Cold Apocalypse + Infrastructure Champion + Cute Pets + Stockpiling]
When the countdown hits zero, the world ends in ice.
In a single instant, humanity is dragged into a survival game and scattered across an endless frozen wasteland. No cities. No supplies. No second chances.
Everyone starts with the same thing:
a dying campfire... and whatever they happen to be wearing or holding.
The billionaires who hoarded warehouses of food?
They arrive in silk pajamas and freeze to death in the snow.
Riley, on the other hand, arrives fully loaded.
Because seconds before the teleport, she was insulating her house-covered head to toe in heavy-duty tools.
Claw hammer.
Powder-actuated nail gun.
Lithium battery chainsaw.
Stacked toolboxes.
While others snap frozen branches with bare hands and lose fingers to the cold-
Riley cuts down a tree every three seconds, piling up mountains of firewood.
While others hide in snow pits, praying predators won't drag them away-
Riley is already building a windproof wooden fortress with construction scraps and a nail gun.
While people fight over a single piece of black bread-
Riley sits beside a roaring fireplace, a massive brown bear curled at her feet, and a pot of fresh fish stew bubbling on the stove.
To Riley, this isn't a survival game.
It's a base-building simulator.
From a single campfire...
to an airborne fortress that will never freeze.
Hey, Game Admin-
If this game doesn't end soon, I might end up becoming the Queen of it. 
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