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From Rejected Omega To The Supreme Luna

Four years ago, I walked into liquid silver fire to drag the Alpha heir out of a burning wreck. The silver melted the skin off my back, leaving me a topographic nightmare of scars, while my inner wolf went dormant to survive the pain. I thought my sacrifice meant something. But when Julian finally woke from his coma, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at my burns with pure disgust. "Who let this broken Omega in here?" he sneered. He pulled Estelle—the woman who had fled the scene without a scratch—into his arms. "This," he declared, burying his face in her flawless neck, "is the scent of my savior. Not you. You smell like a chemical spill." He treated me like a leper in my own pack. He let his sister slash my dress to expose my "ugly" back to dinner guests. On the day he was forced to marry me for PR, he drove us to the altar with Estelle in the backseat. When she faked a panic attack, claiming the wolfsbane I warned her about was "anxiety," Julian slammed on the brakes in the middle of a storm. "Get out," he commanded, unlocking my door. "Julian, we're ten minutes from the wedding." "Estelle is dying! You selfish monster, get out!" He kicked me out of the Rolls Royce, leaving me standing in the mud in my white silk gown. As his taillights faded, I didn't cry. I closed my eyes and grabbed the frayed bond in my mind. "I, Ember Tucker, reject you, Julian Copeland." Snap. He thought he was discarding a broken toy. He didn't realize he had just rejected the legendary White Wolf—and his only chance at survival.

Caught In The Twin's Cruel Game

For three years, I was married to a lie. The man I loved, the man whose name I carried, wasn't my husband. He was his identical twin brother. The truth shattered my perfect life on our anniversary. My real husband, Elliot, had swapped places with his volatile twin, Killian, all so he could be with another woman without the mess of a divorce. I was just a placeholder in their cruel game. Elliot stood by as his lover burned my hand, while Killian wore his face, whispering promises he never meant. But the final blow came when I found Killian's phone. In a group chat, he called me a "prize" he'd won from his brother, promising his friends they could have me once he was bored. That's when my heartbreak turned to ice. I filed for divorce, took everything the pre-nup promised, and fled to London. I thought I was free, but now they've followed me, determined to reclaim their favorite toy.

My Fiancé's Twin, A Cruel Deception

My fiancé has a twin brother. For the past year, the man I' ve shared a bed with wasn't my fiancé at all. I discovered the man I loved was just an actor, a stand-in. My real fiancé, Brandon, was secretly married to his adopted sister, Caryl. But their plan was far more sinister than just swapping places. They were going to let me marry the twin, then stage an "accident" to harvest my corneas for Caryl. When I discovered their plot, Caryl framed me for attacking her. Brandon, the man who swore to protect me, had me whipped until I was bleeding on the floor. Then she murdered his grandfather and blamed me. He didn't hesitate. He threw me into a psychiatric hospital to rot. He never once questioned her lies. He simply discarded me, the woman he claimed to love for five years. But they forgot one thing. I wasn't just Farah Moore, a helpless orphan. I am Aurora Valois, heiress to an empire. After being rescued from that hell, I faked my death and disappeared. Now, I'm back to start a new life, and this time, I'm living for myself.

From His Pawn To Her Queen

I was Kennedy Hall, the rebellious journalist of a political dynasty. My only escape was a secret, passionate affair with Elliot Solis, a powerful CEO carved from ice and logic. He called me his "beautiful disaster," a storm contained within the walls of his penthouse. But our affair was built on a lie. I discovered he was only "taming" me as a favor to another woman, Camille-the fragile daughter of my father's chief of staff, to whom he owed an unpayable debt. He publicly chose her over me, wiping her tears with a tenderness he never showed me. He protected her, defended her, and when I was cornered by a predator, he abandoned me to rush to her side. The ultimate betrayal came when he had me thrown in jail and beaten, hissing that I needed to "learn my lesson." The final blow came during a car crash. Without a second's hesitation, he threw himself in front of Camille, shielding her with his body and leaving me to face the impact alone. I wasn't his love; I was a liability he was willing to sacrifice. Lying broken in a hospital bed, I finally understood. I wasn't his beautiful disaster; I was his fool. So I did the only thing I could. I burned his perfect world to the ground, accepted a marriage proposal from a kind billionaire who promised me peace, and walked away to start a new life, leaving the ashes of our love behind.

When Love Dies, Revenge Begins

The day they buried my four-year-old son, Leo, killed by a hit-and-run, the driver, Karyn Morse, showed up at his grave. She smiled, dropped Leo' s favorite toy into his open casket, and called him a "clumsy little thing." My husband, District Attorney David Blair, the city' s pillar of strength, stood by, silent. I, an investigative journalist, knew I' d find justice. I had the evidence, the witness, a Pulitzer-winning track record. But Karyn Morse was different. The judge, beholden to her powerful father, dismissed everything. She walked free. Then, the bailiff called my name. "Eva Benton, you are under arrest." My own husband, Leo' s father, prosecuted me for criminal negligence. He twisted my grief, my frantic search for truth, into a paranoid obsession. My best friend, Cheri, testified against me, claiming I was unstable. The jury found me guilty. Three years in a maximum-security prison. For being a grieving mother. For losing my son. I lost another child in prison, a secret I buried deep. Why? Why did he do it? Why did he betray me? The day I was released, I found him at Leo' s grave, with Karyn and their son. "Daddy, can we go get ice cream now?" Karyn cooed, "We have to say hi to your brother." My world shattered. He hadn' t just framed me; he had replaced me. He had replaced our son. "Worried?" he said, when Karyn asked about me. "Why would I be? She' s nothing to me now." The thread snapped. I called Cheri. "I need your help, Cheri."

Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Hell In His Eyes, Heaven In His Kiss

Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.

Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle

I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body. My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in. I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then- I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses. Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down- He's still hard. Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance. "You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless. "I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake. "Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat. And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm. "Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. *** Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge. She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez. He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her. What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated. Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty? And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?

No More Doormat: Dump The Fiancé, Snag The Underworld Emperor

Clara had to die once to see who truly surrounded her-traitors and opportunists everywhere. After her rebirth, she swore to make her enemies pay. Her fiancé mocked, "You think you deserve me?" She punched him and ended the engagement. Her stepsister played innocent, but Clara shut her down with a cold retort. "Stop pretending! I'm tired of your little act!" They called her a loser, but Clara didn't bother defending herself. Instead, she revealed her real power: superstar, racing champion, and secret mogul. When her masks fell, chaos erupted. Her ex begged, and the crime lord claimed her, but Clara had already conquered them all.

The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.

Mafia Queen to First Lady: A Reborn Pact with the President

Leland, the world's most eligible bachelor and powerful President, was rumored to be in love-with Valerie, the nation's favorite punchline. Once rejected by his nephew and scorned for her looks, Valerie faced public outrage for "leeching" off Leland's status and entering government circles. Elite society mocked, rivals sneered. But the tables turned: the mafia king was spotted carrying her bags, scientists begged for her help, and Valerie saved the nation. As chaos erupted, Leland posted on the presidential account. "My wife wants to dump me-how do I win her back? Urgent advice needed!"