The Monte Cristo Heiress

The Vanished Luna: Returning to Reject the Alpha

"Not guilty." With those two words, my husband, the Alpha, acquitted his mistress of poisoning my mother. I had the toxicology reports. I had the receipts. But Garrison didn't care. He looked me in the eye, his hand resting possessively on Keyla's back, and told me to stop making a scene. That was just the beginning of my hell. He moved Keyla into our master suite and forced me into the servant's quarters. "Since you can't give me strong pups," he sneered, "you can serve those who do." I became the maid in my own home, washing Keyla's silk lingerie while she wore my Luna robes. When I tried to fight back, he used the Alpha Command to silence me and locked me in a room filled with silver dust that burned my skin like acid. He even drugged me and offered me to a rival Alpha just to secure a timber deal. He thought he had broken me. He thought I was just a weak Omega who would eventually fade away. But he forgot that my mother taught me everything about poisons. On the night of the yacht party, I didn't just jump into the dark ocean to escape. I jumped to be reborn. I flushed my wedding ring, severed the bond, and let the icy water swallow Janette the victim. Garrison thought I was dead. He didn't know that the ocean wouldn't kill me. It would awaken my true bloodline. And when I came back, I wasn't his wife anymore. I was a White Wolf, and I was going to burn his pack to the ground.

Mistaken for a Rogue: The Alpha's True Heir

I was eight years old when my father, Alpha Derek, raided the rogue bunker to save my mother. I thought I was finally safe. But because I reeked of the wolfsbane chemicals used to hide my scent, my mother looked at me with pure disgust. "Get that thing away from me! It smells like him!" she shrieked. To protect his traumatized mate, my father didn't check my DNA. He threw me into the garage to sleep on oily rags. For months, I was the true Alpha's daughter, yet I was forced to eat dog food while they pampered a fake orphan named Kylie in my place. When Kylie ordered the guard dog to tear my arm open, my mother stood at the window. Instead of saving me, she let the maid close the curtains so she wouldn't have to see the blood. I only became useful when my father got into a critical car crash. They drained my rare "Moon Blood" to save his life, then immediately signed papers to ship me off to a labor camp to get rid of the "stain" on their family. They thought I was a dirty rogue. They didn't know the chemical smell was masking the rarest bloodline in a century. I am not a rogue. I am a White Wolf. And just as my grandfather discovers the DNA results and falls to his knees in regret, the most powerful pack in the North has already arrived to claim me as their queen.

The Woman I Saved Destroyed Me

One moment, I was crossing the street, holding my fiancée Olivia' s hand, laughing about our future. The next, a careening black sedan was aimed right at her. There was no time to think; I pushed her to safety, taking the hit myself. I woke up three years later, my face a ruin, my body a stranger to me. But the real horror began when I saw Olivia on TV-a celebrity, crying beautiful, convincing tears about her supposedly devoted fiancé, who she visited "every day." She even fooled me, lying there paralyzed in my hospital bed, while I dreamed of returning to her. After grueling surgeries and therapy, I went home to surprise her. Instead, I found her celebrating with my best friend, Mark, who confessed they' d let my frail mother "waste away" and seized all my assets. My mother, gone. My home, desecrated. The woman I saved, the friend I trusted, had systematically destroyed everything I loved, believing I was a "vegetable." My world shattered again, replaced by a burning desire for vengeance. I was no longer the man I used to be. I was a ghost, returned to reclaim what was mine and make them pay.

Her Regret, His Peace

They told me it was a contract marriage, a deal to save my mother' s life. In reality, it was my own slow death sentence. For three years, I was hired to be Chloe Davis' s husband, the man she blamed for ruining her life after her high school sweetheart dumped her. I endured her endless parade of boyfriends, her daily allowance of five dollars, and constant humiliation, all to ensure my ailing mother received the best care. Then, the day my mother died, Chloe' s assistant called, demanding I return home from the funeral to make snacks for a party. Chloe, my wife, had no idea my mother was gone. Days later, I learned the truth: my mother had committed suicide to free me, after Chloe' s cousin, Jake Stone, maliciously convinced her that she was an inescapable burden. That night, at a club, Chloe poured red wine over my head for Jake' s amusement. But the ultimate betrayal came when I collapsed from malnutrition and exhaustion. Chloe visited me in the hospital, not with concern, but to demand I take the fall for Jake' s drunk driving accident. The irony was suffocating; her own reckless driving had caused the power outage that shut down my mother' s life support, effectively killing her. "No," I told her, my voice finally firm after years of silence. "I want a divorce." Her shock was absolute; I had never defied her. Before I could escape, Jake ambushed me, confessing his role in my mother' s death, triggering a rage that landed me back in the hospital. Yet, Chloe watched as her bodyguards, on her command, broke my ribs and crushed my painting hand. Why had my life become this torment? Why had I, a quiet artist, become the target of such unbridled cruelty? I left with my mother' s ashes, leaving behind all the money, and promised myself I' d never look back.

His Penance, My Freedom

Two years, Alex. It's been two years. My whisper was dry, lost in the cold, vast living room where I knelt on marble, gripping his expensive trousers. For two years, since his mother' s death, this had been my life, my prison. He blamed me, twisted a lie of grief into his truth: I' d hidden her sickness for his company' s IPO. Every week, a different woman. They wore my robes, used my perfume, slept in our bed. My task: welcome, serve, clean. I swallowed humiliation because my father was sick, his treatments astronomically expensive. Alex Thorne, my husband, was my only hope. But when I begged for money, for my father on his deathbed, Alex sneered, "Let him die." "It's what he deserves for having a daughter like you." Then the hospital called: My father was gone. He took his own life, leaving a note, not wanting to be a burden. I was on my knees, begging for a life already lost. "Problem solved," Alex chirped to his current paramour, tossing my phone aside. My world shattered. He was a monster who savored my pain. Something inside me snapped. The part that endured, that hoped, broke. "No," I said, rising on shaky legs. "I want a divorce, Alex." He laughed, demanding I apologize to his mistress, then commanded me to clean toilets with a toothbrush. He was mocking me. Humiliating me. Using my deepest wounds as his amusement. But as I knelt once more, a single thought crystallised: I wouldn't just leave him. I would erase him. And when he then shoved me, triggering a terrifying pain and a warm, wet sensation, I knew my silent revolution had just begun. He might have killed my father and our unborn child, but he had just awakened the storm within me.

Hidden From Him

Growing up in her uncle Ethan's quiet mansion after her mother died, Sarah secretly fell in love with her charismatic guardian, a prominent figure in Austin's tech scene. On her 21st birthday, emboldened by champagne and years of unspoken longing, Sarah kissed him. To her astonishment, he kissed her back. The next morning, he proposed marriage, even offering a lavish $500,000 as a "wedding gift." Her heart soared – the man she loved wanted her! But her joy turned to ice when she accidentally stumbled upon his private messages. The "proposal" was a calculated sham, a desperate ploy to win back his ex-girlfriend, Jessica. He called Sarah a "pawn," the money a "payoff," planning to "deal with" her once Jessica returned. Her world shattered in a million pieces as she overheard him smugly tell Jessica he would merely "send her away" or make her "disappear." The man she idolized had brutally exposed himself as a manipulative monster. How could he, her guardian, her supposed fiancé, treat her with such cold disdain? The betrayal stung, leaving her hollow and humiliated. Refusing to be cast aside like a discarded toy, Sarah secretly canceled their wedding. After a fierce, public confrontation where she declared their engagement over, a shocked confidante of Ethan's approached her with a chilling proposition: to fake her own death and vanish, making a clean break from the man who had mercilessly used her.

Phoenix Mode, Activated: Burn Me Once, Watch Me Rise

Chelsey loved Brett for seven years and tried everything for a baby-doctors, IVF, surgeries. Then she found out he'd been dosing her food with contraceptives. She woke back at the fire years earlier and watched Brett carry another woman out, leaving Chelsey to choke in smoke. She realized he'd been reborn too-and picked his "true love." Chelsey walked away and married Julian, her friend's cousin and the hot firefighter who saved her; he gave her all his money the day they married. Brett scoffed... until Chelsey shone at an AI summit and Julian's real identity shocked him. Seeing her with twins and another baby coming, Brett begged, "Come back to me! Please!"

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."