Chase After Love: Never Let Go Of You

From Broken Fiancée To Corporate Queen

I walked into the hospital wing to find my fiancé, Derrick, holding his pregnant high-school sweetheart. His plan was sickening: he would publicly claim her baby to save her from scandal, while our child, the one I was secretly carrying, would be hidden away-a shameful 'accident'. He locked me in a damp guesthouse as his mother called me a whore and my unborn child a bastard. But the true cost of his weakness came when she dragged me to a clinic and forced an abortion, killing my seven-month-old baby while Derrick was away caring for his other family. Six months later, I returned. Backed by a powerful new family, I walked into the Bradford Corporation's boardroom to face them all. Derrick looked at me like he'd seen a ghost, not realizing I was there to take his entire empire. I signed the papers that made me his boss and smiled for the cameras. "The old Ava is dead," I whispered. "Long live the queen."

My Stolen Life, Their Bitter Downfall

I was Aurora Sterling, a talented physician who, to protect my fragile stepsister Clara, took the fall for financial fraud and went to prison. I served one year. My family, my fiancé Julian Thorne, they all promised me it was temporary, that they would wait for me, that they would take care of everything. They said Clara needed me to do this. A year later, I walked out of the prison gates not to the embrace of my family, but to cold, empty air. They hadn't come. They were all at a party, celebrating Clara's birthday—celebrating her new place as the sole Sterling heiress, the new woman at Julian's side. The lie shattered in that instant. The "sister" I had sacrificed everything to protect had, in my absence, stolen my life. Julian, the man who had sworn he loved me, had fallen into her carefully woven trap of "fragility," his favoritism becoming the sharpest knife twisted in my back. They thought I was weak. They thought I would once again yield for the sake of so-called "family." They were about to find out just how fatally wrong they were.

A Pawn, A Son, A Forced Marriage

Two years ago, my fiancé, Connor, tossed the only life jacket to his mistress, Ilene, and watched me drown. I was pregnant with his child. He found me living a quiet life as a fisherman's wife on a remote island, dragged me back to his world, and revealed a shocking truth: our son, the one I thought I'd lost, was alive. He had been raised by them all along. Connor divorced Ilene and tried to force me into marriage, using our son as a pawn. But the boy he'd raised was a stranger, twisted by his father's cruelty, calling me a "bad woman." That's when I knew I had to destroy them. I returned to the island, not as a victim, but as Ayla Garcia, the island chief's long-lost daughter. "Connor Foster," my father roared, his voice echoing through the hall, "you dared to touch my daughter? Get out of my sight, now!" He thought he could ruin my life, but he never realized he was trespassing in my kingdom.

When Love Became A Transaction

The phone rang, a sharp, unwelcome sound cutting through the quiet of my office. It was Olivia, my wife. A smile touched my lips. Six months pregnant, a miracle after years of heartbreak. "Hey, honey. Everything okay? Did you pick out a color for the nursery yet? I' m still team blue." Then, silence. A heavy, dead-air kind of quiet. Her voice, when it came, was a ghost: "Ethan… can you come to the hospital?" My heart stopped. My mind raced through a thousand terrible possibilities, but none prepared me for the sight of her in the surgical waiting room, her face pale, her belly-our baby-gone. "I had an abortion, Ethan." Her words shattered my world. "He was bad luck," she said simply, as if explaining the weather. Then she pointed towards the ICU. "Liam is in here. He was in a car accident." Liam. Her college sweetheart. The ghost in our marriage. "The baby… he was too perfect. All our good luck went to him. I had to get rid of the bad luck. I had to save him." Her twisted logic was terrifying. I stumbled home to find my mother humming happily in the nursery, folding a tiny blue onesie. The room was a testament to a dream now destroyed. "She lost him," I managed to tell her, a desperate lie to shield her from the grotesque truth. But she sensed it. The pain of our son' s death, coupled with Olivia's betrayal, hit my mother hard. Her doctor called it "broken heart syndrome." Then came the call from Olivia's doctor. "It's highly unlikely Olivia will be able to conceive again. The damage is permanent." That night, I discovered our joint savings account, tens of thousands of dollars, completely drained. Funneled to Liam's experimental medical clinic. I found Olivia at his bedside, peeling an apple for him. "It wasn't a problem," she said, "It was a sacrifice. For you. For us." "Good girl," he replied. "Once I'm out of here… Miller will be out of the picture." My son's death wasn't a tragic act of madness. It was a transaction. And I had been played for a fool from the very beginning. Liam called me, arrogant and triumphant. "You were just a placeholder." "You're too selfish!" Olivia shrieked, when I confronted her. Her words, so twisted and absurd, snapped the last thread of any feeling I had for her. "I want a divorce, Olivia." I hung up, then blocked both their numbers. The decision was made. The war had just begun.

Engagement Party Nightmare

My engagement party at the Plaza Hotel was supposed to be my fairy tale. I was Emily White, soon to be Mrs. Jack Anderson, Wall Street’s golden boy, feeling like a princess in my dream gown. Then, the giant screen, meant for our loving slideshow, flickered. A grainy video played: me, years ago, utterly wasted at a frat party, completely out of control. A collective gasp ripped through the ballroom. Jack’s face turned from white to furious red. He snatched the mic, bellowing, "This engagement is OFF!" He ripped the diamond ring from my finger, brutally shoving it onto my maid of honor, Sophia’s, hand. "Sophia, at least you have some class." Laughter rippled through the guests as my parents sobbed. My world shattered along with the champagne flute in my numb fingers. Just as I stood frozen in humiliation, the main doors burst open. Marcus "King" Corleone, the city's whispered-about power, Sophia's "guardian," emerged from the shadows. Silence fell. He stopped the video, took a mic, and his voice, soft yet chilling, commanded everyone to leave. Only my parents, Jack, Sophia, and I remained. Then, he approached me. “I’ll offer you a contract, Emily. A marriage. To me.” Marry a rumored monster? He gestured to Sophia, who was preening with my ring. My career, my future, my reputation—all gone. Despair washed over me. What choice did I have? I whispered, "Yes."

The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy

I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset. I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister. I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar. He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured. I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield. "I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment." Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre." As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him.

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.

My Reborn Husband Didn't Choose Me? I Flash Married a Firefighter!

For seven years, I drank the bitter tonic my fiancé, Alpha Adrian, gave me, believing it would cure my "wolfless" defect. I was wrong. It was poison. He wasn't trying to heal me; he was keeping me weak so he could replace me with my foster sister, Ariel. When the fire consumed the Alpha's Wing, I was trapped under a burning beam, my legs crushed. Adrian kicked down the door. I reached out to him, screaming for help. But he didn't look at me. He looked at Ariel, who was lying on the floor in a silk nightgown. He scooped her up, cradling her like she was the only thing that mattered. I begged him not to leave me. Instead of helping, he used his Alpha Command on me, his voice booming with supernatural weight. "Stay put! I'll be back for you!" It was a lie. He used his power to freeze me in the inferno and left me to burn alive. I survived, only to watch him publicly reject me for her the next day, with my own father's blessing. They called me a "genetic dead end." They thought I would crawl away and die in shame. I didn't. I limped up the mountain to the Neutral Lands to find the one man everyone fears-the exiled Alpha, Garth Morgan. "I have the Gamma Bloodline Scroll," I told the massive figure emerging from the shadows. "I don't want your gratitude," Garth growled, his eyes like storm clouds. "I'm not here for gratitude," I replied, staring him down. "I'm here to make a deal with the devil."

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband

The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business. I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar. They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream. When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything. I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse? But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter. "If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance."

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."