How Does Virgin Bride End?

Eve is left with no choice other than getting married to Jason who is arrogant and has not an iota of respect for her. Eve is in need of changing the poor status of her family and Jason needs to secure his company by getting a wife. Their marriage is built on pretence and deceit for the sake of keeping his company and her family's new wealth. However, things change the minute Jason finds out Eve was a virgin the next morning after their first sex.

"She thinks I deceived her. How would I tell her that she is the only person I have ever fallen in love with." ✧●✧ "L-leave me." She murmured as his proximity was making her senses erratic. "Because you don't want me."Only she knew the pain she felt while saying that sentence. "What if I say I want you?" His amusing smirk made her breath shaky. There was something changed in him but the eyes were the same as before. It was hard to find which side of him was true. "Why do you want me?" She wet her dry lips as he came closer tightening his hold around her waist. He chuckled at her sentence. "We are married." He said with an amusing smirk when he added. "I just realized that, I am married to the best person in the world who can fulfill my needs only." His black midnight eyes were getting darker.

She escaped hell with nothing but scars, silence… and a name she had to hide. He built an empire with blood, secrets, and a rule: never fall in love. When Isabella Volkov runs from her abusive past in Russia, she doesn’t expect to land a job as the personal secretary to Damian Knight, New York’s most feared billionaire. Cold. Commanding. Dangerous. And far too interested in her. Damian sees through her lies but hires her anyway. He wants to protect her… possess her… break down her walls. But when shadows from Isabella’s past follow her across oceans, both their lives spiral into a twisted game of revenge, power, and forbidden desire. As enemies close in and dark secrets resurface, one truth becomes clear: Love was never part of the plan… but fate has rules of its own.

“Andreeeee!” Her voice came out pleading this time. She wanted relief but she was almost certain she wasn’t going to get it anytime soon. She wanted all he could give and more. She wanted more than what he could give.

I've protected Rachel Mead for ten years. After taking bullets three times and being paralyzed five times for her sake, she finally agrees to marry me. But on the wedding day, her assistant, Quentin Sorenson, stumbles into the church. "Rachel, my groin got bitten by a leech! Does that mean I won't be able to get it up ever again?" Rachel's expression changes drastically. She moves to ditch me and the wedding guests just so she can leave with Quentin. I stop her immediately before suggesting that we complete the wedding ceremony before seeking out a doctor to save Quentin. But Rachel responds by slapping me heavily on the face. She glares at me ferociously the whole time. "Charlie Lund, just how petty are you? Can't you tell that Quentin is in major discomfort right now? If you truly love me, you won't stop me at all!" After that, she drags Quentin into a nearby lounge. By the time I open the door, I see the naked Rachel straddling Quentin while bouncing at a regular rhythm. Their faces are already flushed with pleasure, and condoms can be seen strewn all over the floor. Rachel, who has once promised me that she'll preserve her precious virginity till our wedding night, meets my gaze nonchalantly. "Quentin is already in a serious condition. How could I just sit by and do nothing for him? Besides, isn't my hymen just a layer? Since you want to pop it that much, I can always get it fixed for you next time." I remain rooted to the spot, feeling as though my blood has turned into ice. To think that my ten-year relationship with Rachel is worth nothing at all. At that moment, I realize just how big a loser I am.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.