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A secret society of widows. A cold billionaire with a deadly past. One woman sent to seduce him... and destroy him. When Genevieve Holloway buries her husband, she thinks the worst is behind her. But the black-veiled woman at the funeral of her husband says otherwise. “You’ve been chosen.” Drawn into a shadowy society of grieving wives turned silent assassins, Genevieve is given one final task before she can walk free: infiltrate the life of Dominic Rourke—the enigmatic tech billionaire tied to her husband’s mysterious death—and expose the truth. Her mission is clear: seduce him. Infiltrate him. Ruin him. But Dominic Rourke is nothing like she expected. Cold. Calculating. Unreachable. And he’s never let any woman get close—until her. Worse still, his five-year-old daughter clings to Genevieve like a lost soul, whispering secrets she shouldn’t know. Secrets about her dead mother… and the club Genevieve now serves. The deeper Genevieve sinks into Dominic’s world, the more dangerous her own becomes. The women she trusted have blood on their hands. The man she was sent to destroy might be innocent. And the lies that bind them all go deeper than any grave. Genevieve begins to develop feelings for the man she’s sent to ruin, and he sees himself letting go of his cold nature to make her happy and find her husband’s killer. In a game of power, seduction, and betrayal, only one can survive. And Genevieve must decide: Is she the hunter or the hunted? Will she be Dominic’s ruin, or will she become his everything?

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

Elle pensait ne passer qu’un simple entretien d’embauche. Lui ne cherchait pas une assistante… mais un moyen de régler un problème bien plus personnel. Alaya, jeune femme ambitieuse mais ruinée par les dettes laissées par son père, se présente dans la luxueuse tour d’Aiden Kane, PDG froid, impitoyable et connu pour ne jamais mêler affaires et sentiments. Mais ce jour-là, il lui propose un contrat inattendu : jouer le rôle de sa fiancée pendant un an pour le sauver d’un mariage arrangé imposé par son conseil d’administration. En échange, il remboursera toutes ses dettes et lui garantira une carrière dans son entreprise. Entre voyages d’affaires aux quatre coins du monde, soirées mondaines où chaque geste est scruté, et un milliardaire qui semble cacher plus de blessures que de richesses, Alaya découvre que ce contrat pourrait bien lui coûter plus que son cœur… et que dans ce jeu dangereux, rompre l’accord pourrait être la plus grave des erreurs.

Mom dies of rage when she discovers that the bride at my wedding has become Nelly Johnson, Harvey Fisher's business partner. My wedding turns into Mom's funeral the moment she breathes her last breath. Despite that, Harvey insists that the ceremony continue as planned. He even orders me to put the wedding ring on Nelly's finger. "Hurry up and put it on! I'll explain everything to you tonight!" he snarls. I ignore him and leave the hotel with Mom's body in my arms. The wedding ends with a banging success at 8:00 pm. Nelly updated her social media with a post that's liked by tens of thousands of people. "I've finally married the light of my life! I'd like to thank a certain homewrecker for leaving after remembering her place." Harvey updates his social media with a similar post. "Those who are unworthy don't deserve to be loved." I like both their posts in the ice-cold morgue. I comment, "I wish you two a lifetime of happiness." Then, I head home with Mom's ashes. When I enter the house, I see Harvey holding Nelly tightly while making out with her.

At three in the morning, I stare at the unknown transaction record on my phone screen, my fingertips turning cold. The record is for a payment of 2980 dollars, made for an executive suite at the Wisteria. The time of payment was 8:00 pm last night. My husband, Tristan Griffin, is a detective. He was on the night shift last night. I clutch my phone, my knuckles turning white as I text Tristan, "I just saw your credit card bill for a hotel stay last night. What's up with that?" His reply is instant. "Our team had to work overtime at the last minute, so they put us up at the hotel. I forgot to tell you about it." I scan the text and sputter. The Wisteria is located in the western region of the city, which is on the other end from where his squad is stationed. I don't press him for more details and click on the bank app on my phone. Having found the vendor's address through the payment record, I sent it to my best friend, Rowena Sheffield, who works as a private detective. She replies instantly with an "OK" emoji and follows up with, "Give me a second. I'll find out everything you want in a jiffy!"

At the engagement party, the champagne tower is only half-built when Marcus Harrison answers a phone call. He glances at me and says, "I have to go. Lily collapsed at the airport." I say, "If you leave, we're done." He leaves anyway, in front of 200 guests. He carries Lily Bardot in his arms, wearing the coat I gave him, as he drives away in my car. The next day, he sends me an email that reads, "Lily will be moving into my apartment. She needs me, and I hope you can understand. Once Lily gets better, we'll get married. Please trust me." I stare at the screen and suddenly laugh. So what he wants isn't someone who loves him. It's someone who needs him. And I'm too independent, so I don't make the cut. That evening, I scroll through my contacts and find a number I've never given a second glance to. It belongs to someone who's been waiting for me for 23 years. I dial it. "Tomorrow night, 7:00 pm. Meet me at the restaurant by the sea."

By the fifth year of my marriage to River Grayson, I had stopped checking his call logs and chat records. Instead, I spent my nights drinking and partying with my girlfriends at the poolside bar. When his ninety-ninth missed call lit up my screen, I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone straight into the water. It didn't take long before he came storming in. The moment he pulled the strawberry-scented condom out of my pocket, he turned grim and banned me from leaving the house after 7:00 PM. "Joanne, you weren't like this before." I thought back to last month, when I had run into him at the hospital. He had lied about being on a business trip out of town, but there he was, holding Yvonne Sinclair's hand. I still remembered his words. "You lost your uterus from saving me back then. My sperm is perfectly fine. I'll give you a child—with your mother's help." Now, staring into his furious eyes, I said coldly, "Don't worry. There's no going back for us anymore."

My name is Ivy Lawson. At 3:00 am, I get a call from Christina McSpire, a parent of one of my students. "Hello, Ms. Lawson, I noticed Zoe only spent five dollars on her meal yesterday. Did she not eat any meat?" she asks. Pushing through my exhaustion, I reply, "Don't worry, Mrs. Street. I'll check on it tomorrow." Another half hour goes by, and she calls again. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Can you remind Zoe to bring an umbrella?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. "Got it," I reply absentmindedly. A few minutes later, my phone rings once more. "Please make sure Zoe brushes her teeth for three minutes. It's also important that she scrubs each side of her face at least three times." Suppressing my frustration, I calmly respond, "Zoe is in her senior year of high school. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself." I expect that to be the end of it, but when I wake up, my silenced phone shows over a hundred missed calls.

Elle voulait juste survivre. Il voulait la posséder. À Madrid, Paula Delgado jongle entre ses longues heures d’aide-soignante et les soins coûteux de sa mère gravement malade. Forte, fière, et indépendante, elle refuse de demander de l’aide. Jusqu’au jour où tout s’effondre. Un soir, en quête d’oubli, elle cède à une nuit de passion avec un inconnu. Elle disparaît au petit matin sans se retourner. Mais lui… n’a pas l’intention de l’oublier. Nicolás Reyes, célèbre sportif espagnol, n’a jamais été troublé par une femme. Jusqu’à elle. Quand il la retrouve par hasard, il lui fait une proposition indécente : une relation de sexfriends, sans engagement, en échange d’une prise en charge totale des soins de sa mère. Paula, révoltée, refuse. Mais quand la vie de sa mère est en jeu, peut-elle encore dire non ? Et si ce deal était la plus dangereuse des erreurs ?

At 4:00 a.m., my husband, Rocco, gently shook me awake. His voice was a low murmur, . "Alessia, my love, could you do something for me?" But his next words shattered the illusion. "Scarlett is hungry. Go make her some seafood soup." Scarlett was our maid, and she was also Rocco's pregnant goomar. "I just had fresh seafood delivered. Get to the kitchen and make her a bowl of soup. Just for Falcone's heir." I refused, my voice cold. His anger flared in an instant. "Don't be so unreasonable, Alessia." "Is it really so hard for you to make some soup?" I shook my head, silent. He stroked my cheek, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. "Fine, Alessia. So you've learned to defy me now." "Think carefully, Alessia. Do you really want to keep your place as a Falcone?" "And your position as the family's lawyer? Think about whether you still want these… then give me your answer." Seeing the arrogance in Rocco's eyes, the last ember of love I had for this man died. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "I want out of the Falcone family."