The Day I Came Back to Life

The Billionaire's Cruel Secret Contract Marriage Deal

Imogen lived her life as a servant in her own home, scrubbing floors for foster parents who treated her existence like a bad debt. Her only escape was a hidden sketchbook filled with architectural designs, a secret world she kept tucked away in a utility closet. The nightmare peaked when her foster father tried to sell her to her abusive ex-boyfriend for five thousand dollars. When she refused, he drew blood with a slap and threw her into a midnight storm, threatening to burn her passport and birth certificate if she ever returned. Drenched and terrified, she accidentally dove into a luxury sedan instead of her Uber. She fled the mysterious, cold-eyed passenger in a panic, but she left her suitcase behind—taking her clothes, her ID, and her life's work with it. The next morning, she went to meet a "dentist" for a forced marriage arrangement, only to find the man from the car waiting for her. He claimed he was just a low-level IT guy, offering her a marriage contract to help her recover her documents and escape her family's reach. She didn't understand why a simple coder handled her violent ex with such brutal, practiced efficiency. She didn't know why he looked at her sketches like they were worth millions, but with forty dollars in her pocket and a bruised face, she agreed to be his "business partner" wife. The lie collapsed during a nursing shift at a VIP hospital wing. She walked into a room to find her "IT guy" standing there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking every bit the billionaire heir he’d sworn he wasn't. "Grandma," Gael said, pulling Imogen against him as he faced the matriarch of the Fuller empire. "This isn't just the nurse. This is Imogen, my fiancée." Trapped in his arms, Imogen realized she hadn't found a way out. She had just traded her foster family’s basement for a billionaire’s golden cage.

The Gamma's Betrayal, The Alpha's Vengeful Mate

For five years, I loved my fated mate, Lucian. As the Alpha's daughter, I used my influence to raise him from a low-status warrior to our pack's third-in-command. I believed our bond was a gift from the Moon Goddess. That belief shattered when Rogues ambushed me on patrol. I screamed for him through our mind-link as they held a silver knife to my throat, but he never answered. I later learned he ignored my pleas while he was in bed with my half-sister. When I confronted him at a pack ball, he publicly humiliated me before slapping me across the face. After I uttered the words to reject him, he had me arrested and thrown into the dungeons. On his orders, the prisoners tortured me for days. They starved me, cut me with silver, and left me tied to a stone pillar in the cold. The man I had given my soul to wanted me utterly broken. Lying on that filthy floor, I finally understood. He never loved me; he only loved the power I gave him. Three months later, I invited him to my Mating Ceremony. He arrived beaming, believing this was his grand reconciliation. He watched from the front row as I walked down the aisle, turned my back on him, and placed my hand in that of a powerful rival Alpha—my true, Second Chance Mate. This wasn't forgiveness. This was revenge.

Her Death, Their Sinful Secret

The first time Chloe died, I wasn't there. I was in the library, trying to finish a paper, when a text from our friend Emily shattered my world: "Something happened at the dorm. Come back. Now." I ran, only to find flashing lights and yellow tape around our building. Emily, pale and shaking, whispered the horror: "It' s Chloe. She… she fell." The university moved with chilling speed, declaring it a tragic suicide, scrubbing every trace of her from our room as if she never existed. My best friend, gone. But I knew Chloe. She wouldn't just jump. The bruises, the whispered phone calls to a blocked number that made her face tighten with fear-they screamed something else. I tried to tell the police, but they dismissed it, already closing the case. The university wanted me quiet, gone, just like Chloe' s memory. In a haze of grief and rage, I remembered her hidden burner phone and secret journal. I knew they held the truth. That night, I snuck back into our room, found them, and a terrifyingly large man in a dark suit appeared, attacking me. I woke up with a throbbing head, confused, but the buzzing alarm clock confirmed it: Wednesday, 7:00 AM. May 18th. Then I saw her. Chloe, alive, humming at her desk. I had woken up three days in the past. This was my second chance. I could save her. But I failed. Even knowing, even running, I was too late. I watched her fall again, this time on a Wednesday. Despair threatened to swallow me whole, but then a cold, hard determination set in. They had taken everything the first time, covered it up. Not this time. I couldn't save her life, but I could get justice. And the key was the phone and the journal-still hidden where I' d left them in the original timeline. When university officials, including Dean Peterson and the terrifying man who attacked me, burst into my room to silence me, I had a choice. Beg for help? Or fight back? I dialed 911, then deliberately smashed the window, screaming for real police attention. When they finally arrived, I knew my physical evidence was gone. Dean Peterson's smug face confirmed it. So, I played my last card. I looked the officer dead in the eye and said, "I pushed her. I killed my best friend." It was a monstrous lie, a suicide bomb of a confession, but it forced their hand. A suicide they could bury; a murder, they had to investigate. Sitting in the interrogation room, recounting the nightmare to Detective Anderson, the impossible truth started to break through. He listened, he saw the inconsistencies, and for the first time, someone believed me. Chloe's journal and the burner phone, retrieved by my bewildered friend Emily, laid bare the horrifying truth: Dean Peterson was pimping out vulnerable female students, including Chloe, to powerful, wealthy university trustees like the HIV-positive Mr. Thompson. Chloe's death wasn't suicide; it was murder, a desperate escape from a web of abuse and control. My false confession cost me my freedom, my reputation, my sanity, but it ignited a firestorm. The corrupt system crumbled, Thompson and Peterson jailed for life. Standing at Chloe' s grave, the fight over, I knew for the first time: we did it. We changed her story. And no one else would suffer like her again.

My Wedding Night, Her Vengeance

My wedding night was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, brought a dead man to our bed – Liam, her adored junior developer. "Kneel," she commanded, her voice chillingly devoid of the warmth I had once foolishly sought. I knelt on a bed of broken circuits and shattered motherboards, agonizingly sharp against my skin. She forced me to apologize ten thousand times to a corpse, accusing me of stealing Liam's success and driving him to his death. But it was all a lie; I had simply won the AI competition, a prize that was meant to be hers and Liam's. She injected me with a toxic performance-enhancer, amplifying every sensation into agony. Then, she unleashed a torrent of anonymous hackers, forcing me to watch as they systematically cyber-assaulted and dismantled my entire digital life. She recorded it all, crafting a narrative of me as a cheating scumbag, a monster who had destroyed an innocent man. The world believed her, and the public shame, coupled with vicious online attacks, tragically killed my parents. Chloe moved swiftly, seizing my family's tech empire, the company my father had built from nothing. I died in that room, a broken man, humiliated to death. But then, I woke up. I was back at the beginning, a year before the competition's end, the AI prototype humming softly on my desk. This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice for their twisted love. I would not win; I would let Liam have the victory, and Chloe. All I wanted was to live.

His Golden Ambition, Her Ruin

My name is Ava Green, and I have a secret. Anything I touch with intense emotion turns to solid gold, a strange Midas Touch responsive not to greed, but to love, fear, and passion. Mark Sterling, my brilliant and ambitious husband, was the recipient of my deepest love, and our penthouse glowed with five hundred shimmering testimonies to our shared intimacy. Then the five-hundredth transformation happened, a golden lace tear on a pillowcase, signifying I could make one powerful wish. Mark begged me to wish for his ultimate ambition: to be the CEO of Innovate Global, hailed as a visionary. My heart broke for him, seeing his vulnerability, and I closed my eyes, making the wish for the man I loved. The next night, the world changed. Mark became CEO, a savior to the media, but at his first press conference, he announced his engagement to Dr. Emily Hayes, his "childhood friend." He destroyed me. When he came home, surrounded by our golden memories, he revealed his cruel plan: Emily was his path to power, and I, merely "convenient," was to remain his wife, in name only, lest my prominent family's shares suffer. He needed my family' s influence-and my power-but I was just a piece on his board. I was trapped, my love, my magic, my soul, all sacrificed for his kingdom. Then, a text from Leo Vance, my childhood friend and a cybersecurity genius, offered a glimmer of hope: "The library. Midnight. Don't be followed." He revealed Mark' s orchestrations, how he' d ruined a man' s life, and then, a passage from my family's archives: a forbidden technique, a reverse Midas Touch, fueled by profound pain, where malicious wishes come true. "He thinks he broke you, Ava," Leo said. "Let him think that. We can use this." And so, my plan began, sharper and clearer than any gold.

A Father's Vengeance

The smoke burned my eyes, thick and acrid, as my three-year-old son, Caleb, coughed weakly beside me. My wife, Jennifer, stood at the wine cellar door, her gaze fixed on her brother-in-law, Ryan. "It's for Molly's sake," she said, her voice chillingly devoid of warmth. "The guru said Caleb's energy caused her asthma attack. We have to cleanse it." She slammed the heavy oak door shut, the bolt thudding into place, trapping us. My son, who had a severe peanut allergy and sensitive lungs, was left to suffocate in the toxic smoke. Days bled into a hazy nightmare until Jennifer' s brother, Wesley, appeared, revealing Jennifer never loved me; I was just a rebound. He then callously threw more sage onto the embers, sealing our tomb deeper. I clawed our way out, just barely, carrying Caleb' s limp, blue body to a hospital, clinging to a desperate thread of hope. But Jennifer arrived, not for us, but demanding Caleb's O-negative blood for Molly' s minor fender bender injury, ignoring doctors' pleas. "He's my son. Do it," she commanded, her eyes cold. Then, with a casual glance at Caleb, a nurse, obviously bribed, fed him a peanut granola bar. The flatline screamed, and Caleb arched, his tiny chest still. Jennifer, with Ryan' s arm around her, turned her back on our dying son to comfort Molly' s fake tears. My world shattered. Ryan' s venomous whisper echoed: "You and your son, you were always in the way." How could a mother abandon her child to such a horrifying death? How could she choose a niece over her own son, then murder him without a second thought? Something inside me didn't just break; it turned to dust, then reformed into steel. Andrew Wright had to die, so the man who would take everything from them could be born.

That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."

Once The Foolish Wife, Now His Eternal Obsession

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

Rejected Heiress: My Heartless Family's Regret

For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk. The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for. "You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip." My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father. I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth. But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move. "Get dressed. We're going to a party."

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.