Account Library Novels & Stories

"You are just a golden cage ornament, Celestine. Two years. No touch, no real feelings, and never enter my room. I bought your freedom, so you owe me your life." ​To save her sick father from a lifetime behind bars, Celestine Aragon commits the ultimate sacrifice: she sells her freedom to Cyrus Valdemor—the ruthless, cold-hearted billionaire CEO who rules the city's corporate empire with an iron fist. ​The rules of their marriage contract were simple, practical, and completely devoid of warmth: Maintain a flawless public image, smile for the cameras, and remain absolute strangers behind closed doors. Celestine expects a lonely prison, but she doesn’t expect the strange, suffocating tension that ignites every time Cyrus is near. Nor does she expect the fierce, alpha protectiveness he unleashes whenever the world tries to tear her down. ​But one forbidden, alcohol-fueled night in his private library shatters all their rules. A dangerous passion breaks through Cyrus’s icy defense, leaving them breathless and bound by a desire neither can deny. ​Just as the lines between their fake marriage and real feelings begin to blur, a dark secret from the past comes to light. Cyrus discovers that Celestine's family is tied to the tragic accident that killed his parents decades ago. Stricken by guilt and targeted by his sudden, icy hatred, Celestine is cruelly cast out into the freezing rain—shattered, helpless, and carrying a secret of her own. ​She is pregnant with the billionaire's heir. ​When the truth finally unravels and the ruthless CEO realizes he banished the only woman he ever loved, will it be too late? Can a marriage built on vengeance and secrets survive the ultimate betrayal?

Emma Scott has always had it all—wealth, beauty, and power. As the privileged daughter of a business tycoon, she ruled her university years with confidence, arrogance, and an undeniable presence. But beneath her sharp tongue and ruthless attitude was an obsession she never dared to name—Killian Thomas, the one man who never bowed to her. Killian, a hardworking scholarship student from a middle-class background, despised Emma for the torment she put him through. She was cruel, entitled, and always seemed to have a target on his back. But when one heated argument after class turns into something far more physical, their hatred transforms into an addiction neither of them can resist. What starts as secret, no-strings-attached encounters after lectures spirals into something far more dangerous. They become study partners, but their breaks are filled with untamed passion. One night, they get locked inside the library and spend the entire night indulging in their darkest desires. Their obsession only grows stronger. Upon graduation, Killian is offered a job at Emma’s father’s company, the very place where Emma works. Their sinful rendezvous continue in secret—stolen moments in offices, forbidden trysts during business trips. They think they’re careful, but when Emma’s father catches them in a compromising position overseas, their affair is exposed. Faced with an ultimatum, Emma refuses to back down. She confesses that her bullying was always a twisted way of masking her love for Killian. She threatens to leave everything behind if her father dares to fire him. Forced to confront their true feelings, Emma and Killian finally make their relationship official. But even after marriage, their hunger for each other remains insatiable—whether at home, at work, or in places they should never be. Their passion is reckless. Their love is ruthless. And their temptation?

After I graduated, I kept hitting walls while job hunting, but my boyfriend landed a position at a big company with ease. My boyfriend of two years voluntarily gave me his salary to comfort me. When I finally found a job, he worried about my long commute and bought me a car. All my friends envied me for having such a thoughtful boyfriend. In order to buy our first house, I secretly transferred my own salary into his account as well. A year later, we decided to get married. He held my hand and said excitedly, “I know you don’t have much saved. I don’t want a single cent from you. All I want is your whole heart.” I was deeply moved by how considerate he was. However, on the day of our engagement, he pulled out photos of me with more than 40 different men and accused me of cheating. I stared at them. I had never even seen these people before. Then, he showed me his card’s transaction history, filled with charges from a place called Sunshine Club. “I trusted you with my card, and you used my money to fool around! I’m not marrying you. Give me back my car and the 800,000 dollars you’ve burned through.” I calmly took out the card he had given me before and sneered, “Sure. Let’s settle the accounts properly.” The moment my attorney revealed the true financial statements, he was completely stunned.

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

Synopsis - Isabelle Ellwood, a plain, fuller-figured 19-year-old, hides her poetic soul and dreams of teaching behind dry wit, overshadowed by her beautiful sister who is counted as a family jewel for her grace and beauty and an ambitious father dreaming of snagging a royal title. When Prince Sebastian Nathaniel Winthorne, a bold, dark, and formidable warrior-king at 30, announces a bride-selection season at Cresthaven Palace, Isabelle dares to hope—not for love, but to glimpse the scarred-handed savior of her childhood. Unbeknownst to her, and him, he’s Sebastian, whose commanding presence and passionate heart blind him to her worth, fixated instead on the angelic Amelia Everhart, Isabelle's dearest friend. A secret library meeting shatters Isabelle’s illusions: Sebastian seeks her help to woo Amelia, praising her mind yet oblivious to her love. Their friendship deepens—his admiration grows, her longing festers—culminating in a rain-soaked confrontation where the lavender and breeze ignites his primal desire, clashing with her insecurities. Public scorn and familial cruelty drive Isabelle to flee, forcing Sebastian to confront the void she leaves. As time apart unravels his obsession with Amelia, he pursues Isabelle, his awakening raw and relentless. Their reunion at a glittering ball sparks a dance of resentment and longing, leading to a climactic confession where love triumphs over doubt. Isabelle’s journey from invisible dreamer to empowered princess, and Sebastian’s shift from idealized obsession to soul-deep love, crafts a tale of unseen hearts finding their place—a fiercely unique love story for readers craving wit, angst, and romance. In the opulent yet unforgiving world of Regency-inspired Eldoria, The Crown's Wrong Kiss weaves a slow-burn romance of unrequited love, repressed desire, and transformative self-worth.

“That’s it, little sister,” he rasped against my ear, voice low and dangerous. “Soak your stepbrother’s fingers like the dirty, naughty girl you are.” Two thick fingers plunged deep into my dripping core without warning, stretching me, claiming me, pumping hard and fast. I whimpered, biting down on his shoulder to stifle the moan that threatened to betray us. “Be a good girl and stay silent…” he rumbled low in my ear, “or everyone in this library will know exactly how desperate you are to be fucked by me.” ~~~~ One reckless, drunken night. One masked stranger who set her body on fire with sin and secrets. No names. Just raw heat, tangled limbs, and forbidden pleasure. The next morning, still throbbing from the memory, Miyara walks into class only to freeze. The man commanding the lecture hall is no stranger. He’s Caden Cross, her stepbrother. The one who vanished six years ago, leaving her with a childhood crush she never quite buried. Her one-night stand. Now he’s back. Older. Darker. Her professor. The stepbrother she once ached for has returned with one purpose: to take her, ruin her, and break her completely, until she’s nothing but his. As buried secrets surface and outsiders conspire to tear them apart, Miyara must decide: fight the pull of the forbidden… or surrender to the man who’s always owned her heart and now wants every filthy, shattered piece of her. Will they burn together in the ashes of their taboo desire, consequences be damned? Or will the world force them apart before she can beg for more? ️ Warning: This story contains explicit sex scenes, stalking, non-con/dub-con acts, coercion and manipulation. Kindly proceed with caution

My family was supposed to be the richest of the land, yet I had to refund even a cheap delivery. Why? In my previous life, my housekeeper's daughter got her hands on a trading system. Every cent of money I spent would be hers. She started trying to guilt-trip me into donating to all the impoverished students in her school. It was charity anyway, so I signed a check worth 300 grand. The moment I did, that money became part of her savings, and the amount on my check was zero. Everyone called me names, called me a charlatan. Even the boy toy I spent good money on broke up with me. That girl used my money to donate to charities and became the kind and beautiful heiress. She told everyone I was the housekeeper's daughter instead. Furious, I grabbed my black card and started shopping like crazy. I wanted to prove I was the real heiress, but the balance in my account was cleared immediately. That girl then spent 1.2 million right away, like it was one dollar. She scoffed at me. "Don't try to act like you're rich when you're a broke loser. Your mother doesn't make enough as a housekeeper." The Internet decided to hunt me down. I could not handle the stress, and my mind broke. For some reason, my body withered away at a blistering rate. Before my father could save me, I drew my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to that fateful day. The day the housekeeper's daughter made me donate to the school.

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."