No More Mr. Nice Guy

His Rejected Mate, The Rival Alpha's Gamma

My five-year contract as his placeholder Luna ended when he left me bleeding in his car to comfort the woman who attacked me. He publicly announced my abandonment through the pack's mind-link, then stormed back to the house to accuse me of stealing a priceless necklace from her. He felt the fated mate bond spark between us, called it a cheap trick, and threw me in a silver-lined cell when the necklace was "found" in my bag. My mother had to trade the last relic of our fallen pack just for my freedom, and we were exiled with nothing. His final command to me, his true mate, was to go kneel and apologize to the woman who framed me. Instead, I severed our sacred bond. And as I stepped into exile, a rival Alpha was waiting, offering me the power to burn his entire world to the ground.

His Betrayal, Her Unveiling Power

Three years into the apocalypse, I thought Caleb and I were a team, a family. Then I watched his hand stroke my younger sister Chloe' s knee, his thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles. He' d always protected me… or so I thought, until he publicly discarded me, allowing his men to hurt and humiliate me, all while my sister pretended to be ill, framing me with a raw egg and reveling in my pain. How could he betray me like this? How could my own sister hate me so much? As I lay broken and humiliated, a memory flashed: Liam, the kind-faced man from another life who had always tried to save me. This time, I' d take matters into my own hands.

Reborn for Her Downfall

My wife, Chloe, swept into our grand foyer, her familiar bright smile in place, another "soulmate" in tow-a fresh-faced influencer named Daniel. I was in my studio, painting a serene landscape, the antithesis of the chaos she embodied. She had a new project: Daniel needed my art studio, the only sanctuary I had left in our gilded cage, for his "content hub." "You said you wanted a clean slate for Daniel," I told her, my heart a hollow ache, as she beamed, thinking I was finally being "reasonable." In my last life, I had fought, pleaded, and eventually broken, losing my studio, my art, and then everything. Chloe, oblivious, wired me a fortune-pocket change to her, but to me, seed money for her demise. I saw the number on the screen, a grim smile touching my lips. Little did she know, this wasn' t payment; it was her first installment on her own ruin. I was reborn, and this time, the canvas of my life would be painted with her downfall.

The Mother's War

My son, Caleb, lived for music. Every strum, every hum, filled our small Rust Belt home with joy. When legendary producer Anthony Lester swooped him off to Nashville, it felt like his dream was finally coming true. Then the music stopped. For two months, all I got were slick, pre-recorded messages and B-roll videos, until a shaky clip revealed a raw, red burn on his hand, and a terrified flicker in his eyes before he yanked it away. I flew to Nashville, only to be branded a crazy mother and turned away from the studio by a condescending assistant. Then, a new music video teaser dropped, supposedly showcasing "authentic art," but it was my son, Caleb, being brutally beaten on camera, his genuine terror dismissed as "method acting." The local sheriff, bought and paid for by the studio, merely smirked, telling me to take the "signing bonus" money and go home. How could this be happening? How could a mother watch her child being tortured and find every door slammed in her face, the world calling his torment "art"? Watching his gaunt face on a live stream, pumped full of drugs, unable to remember the name of his own childhood dog, I knew the system had failed him. But they forgot one thing: I wasn' t just a cleaning lady from a forgotten town. I was the widow of Sergeant David Johns, a Medal of Honor recipient, and the Army does not forget its own.

Sweet Poison, Cold Revenge

My sorority sister, Brittany, always seemed like the perfect friend – sweet, glamorous, always ready with a helpful suggestion. But that sweetness was a lie, a poison. It started with a phony survey, then quickly escalated. My SSN, my bank details, all stolen overnight for a "$3,000 loan" I never truly asked for. That loan spiraled to $9,000, and soon, Brittany' s "help" forced me into something far darker – an "escort service" tied to her family's hidden cruelties. The fabricated photos, the rumors, the shame – it all broke my parents. Their car crash, the one that erased them from my life, was no accident. It was the crushing weight of their daughter' s fabricated ruin, orchestrated by the girl who smiled in my face. My rage burned even hotter than the fire in my gut when I finally collapsed, only to realize, in that fleeting moment between life and oblivion, the bitter truth: their entire scheme was illegal. Unenforceable. A sham. Knowledge that came too late. They stole everything: my future, my family, even my last breath. But then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. September 14th. The day it all began, the day Brittany first whispered about that loan. And this time, she wouldn' t just trick me. This time, I knew her game. Every single move. My blood ran cold as her sugary voice called from the door. "Kayla? You in there?" The nightmare was vivid, but so was my resolve. She thought I was an easy mark. She thought wrong. This time, I' m the one setting the trap.

Disowned Heir: A Path to Vengeance

My adoptive family always treated me as their golden child, until I stumbled into a dusty storage room at Grandfather Harrison's 90th birthday celebration. There, I found it: my deceased sister Chloe' s SAT score report, showing near-perfect scores that shattered everything our wealthy New England family had ever told me about her "instability." I innocently showed it to my father, expecting pride or explanation. Instead, his face turned a mottled red, my mother's teacup rattled, and Grandfather dramatically collapsed right before my eyes. Within hours, I was disowned, my entire life-my job, my funds, my home-ripped away, leaving me bewildered and clutching the damning piece of paper. The family called me "disrespectful," my uncle called me "ungrateful," and my own mother, without a flicker of warmth, commanded security to "pack Mr. Ethan' s bags immediately." I was thrown out, abandoned, and even brutally assaulted by my father and uncles when I tried to visit my "dying" grandfather in the hospital. Why? Why would a dead girl's academic scores trigger such a violent, absolute betrayal from the people who raised me? My memories of Chloe, fragmented and disturbing, hint at a darker truth. Then, my mother's voice, strained and chilling, revealed the real reason for my grandfather's "stroke": "He was already gone, Ethan. Two weeks ago. It was all a lie." A cold certainty settled in my gut: Chloe's death, my family's obsession with secrecy, and my sudden banishment are all connected to a truth too monstrous to contain. And I, the discarded son, will unearth every single buried secret at my grandfather's sham funeral.

When Love Is A Lie

Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"

Comeback Of The Adored Heiress

Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own. "Stop pestering me!" said her ex-boyfriend. "My heart only belongs to Jenna." "How dare you think that my woman has feelings for you?" claimed a mysterious bigwig.

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.

Free At Last, Untouchable Now

For three years, Natalie gave everything to be the perfect wife and mother, believing her love and effort could finally earn her a place in their hearts. Yet her sacrifices were met with betrayal from her husband and cold rejection from her son. In their eyes, she was nothing but a manipulator, using vulnerability to get her way. Her husband turned his back, her son misunderstood her, and she never truly belonged. Heartbroken yet determined, Natalie left her old life behind. When her family finally begged for a second chance, she looked at them and said, "It's too late."

The 100-Point Divorce Plan

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.

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."