Apologies That Never Came

On my birthday, my husband, Adrian Grant, suddenly showed up with my adoptive younger sister, Bella Reed, and her child, Tia Reed. When it was time to head out, he naturally arranged for Bella to sit in the front passenger seat. Then he turned to me and said calmly, "Tia gets carsick easily. The back seat is full of stuff. Since you're healthy, just take the bus." Our friends immediately chimed in, one after another, "You're the older sister. Taking care of your niece is only right." Four cars were heading out, yet not one seat was left for me, the supposed main character of the day. I sat on the bus, swallowing my grievance, and saw Adrian and Bella interacting ambiguously in the group chat. They were even talking about topics I knew nothing about. When I opened the newly sent video, nothing except leftovers remained on the table prepared for me. Adrian even treated the birthday cake I had carefully prepared as dessert, spoon-feeding it to Bella and her daughter. Someone finally couldn’t stand it anymore and asked whether this was appropriate. Adrian, who was carefully wiping Bella’s mouth, didn’t even look up. "We’re all family. Julia won’t be angry." At that point, our seven-year marriage came to its end.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—one contract, one wedding, one payday. But Judah asks too many questions. Looks at her too long. And when he smirks and says— "Tell me, Fedora… how does it feel to say ‘I do’ and not mean it?" For the first time in years, she has no answer. Because this was never supposed to feel real.

I'm Alessia Moretti, the most arrogant principessa in the entire underworld of Nuvak. All the mafia heirs hope to take my hand in marriage, and yet I can't be bothered to even spare them a glance. Everyone claims that Vito Luca is the only man who can tame my wild streak. After all, the youngest and most cold-blooded Don in Nuvak always deals with the aftermath of the chaos I've caused as well as shields me from all the bullets that are shot in my direction. I thought my passionate love for Vito had melted the icy defenses of his heart. That is, until I overhear him speaking with his subordinate. It turns out that the biggest lie Vito has ever told is the one he had told me in my face—that he doesn't have a loved one whom he can't be with. Only then do I realize that the marriage alliance between our families is nothing but a transaction from the very start. I'm just a tool meant for Vito to get his hands on life-saving medicine. But ultimately, I'm the obstacle that stands between Vito and his first love. Everyone thinks that I'll beg Vito to return to my side while wailing at the top of my lungs. But what they don't know is that I, Alessia Moretti, have always viewed romance as a piece of pretty but unnecessary accessory. Since Vito has chosen his first love, I shall choose freedom. That's when I turn on my heel and leave without casting him another glance. But after I leave Vito's life, the latter, known for his overwhelming influence in the underworld, has gone completely crazy.

Ivory Stone has tried and failed to seduce her stoic steward 999 times. She thinks that maybe Wilson Quill doesn't have a heart. Maybe he won't ever fall in love with anyone. But one day, she catches him pleasuring himself with a bracelet belonging to the fake heiress who stole her life.

"If you thought you had just escaped hell, then you're wrong. Because you are in hell, Camille. And neither you nor that bastard child will come out alive," he spat, his voice shaking with rage. His words sent a shiver down her spine. "WELCOME TO HELL, CAMILLE!" he shrieked maniacally, as the guards dragged him away. "WELCOME TO HELL!" ⸻ In a country where the price of murder is murder, Camille Owens is accused of killing her birth father, David Owens. Locked up with no hope of escaping her execution, Camille Owens has only one solution to save her head: pregnancy. She had to be pregnant-and her only choice of a baby's father was none other than the General's son, Pierce Landon, the son of the only man in Ventria powerful enough to spare her life. But Pierce Landon had vowed never to bear an heir for his father-and when he learns the truth, he will do anything to erase the mistake... even if it means murdering her.