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For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, w

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watc

After our class reunion, my best friend naturally expected me to play chauffeur and drive everyone home. I agreed. However, halfway down the road, a limited-edition luxury car slammed into the back of my car. The owner, who claimed to be a wealthy businessman from overseas, waved off the idea of filing an insurance claim. He said the crash was fate, and with a grand gesture, handed the luxury car over to me on the spot. From that day on, I drove the million-dollar luxury car every day, until jealousy consumed my best friend. She secretly sabotaged my car, and it ended with my death in a fiery wreck. My boyfriend turned on me, insisting I had simply fallen asleep at the wheel. My parent

My younger son, who is seven, is bitten by a snake. I take him to my elder son's hospital to be treated. To my surprise, my elder son's girlfriend thinks I'm his mistress. Not only does she stop the medical personnel from treating my younger son, but she even slaps me. "My boyfriend and I are a perfect match. How dare you bring your illegitimate son here to challenge me!" She pins me to the floor as she pummels and harms me. She even screeches, "A slut like you will only stop going around seducing others once you're incapable of it!" I'm bruised, battered, and bleeding as I'm wheeled into the emergency room. My elder son handles the operation. His hand trembles as he clutches his scalpel

My husband and I go on a road trip back to my hometown before Christmas. I want to ride shotgun, but he chases me to the backseat so his female colleague can sit in front. He says, "Isabel gets carsick easily. You are my wife, so you should be more considerate of her." He seems to have forgotten that I'm pregnant—my morning sickness is at its peak. Halfway through the journey, he and Isabel Slater start smoking. They make me throw up. The smell disgusts them, and my husband wants to teach me a lesson. He and Isabel leave me at the rest stop. Unbeknownst to them, my family is already waiting there. This time, I'm going back with them and getting an abortion and divorce. Later, my husband

My name is Cassie Aster. I was born Cassandra Burton. I wasn’t born rich, or with a powerful name. But I was born smart—some would say lucky. At fifteen, I entered a contest for a scholarship to the most prestigious school in the country: Aster Academy of Excellence. Out of more than four hundred applicants, only five were chosen. By sixteen, I was walking through its gates. That’s where I met him—Jacob Aster. The son of the school’s owners. The heir to one of the wealthiest families on Earth. I fell for him immediately, but I rejected him—over a hundred times. My studies, my scholarship, my future came first. To him, that meant only one thing: he had to buy my love. Over a deca

Lyra Cole has spent her life fighting to survive. Burdened with the hospital bills for her ailing mother. Her life has always been a delicate balancing act, working multiple jobs to care for her sick mother and younger brother while hiding her talent in digital art, a skill that could change her life if given a chance. But when her mother's condition suddenly deteriorates, she is faced with a staggering medical bill that she cannot possibly pay. Desperate and heartbroken, Lyra turns to her boyfriend, Steve, for help, only to find him betraying her in the cruelest way, shattering her trust completely. With no money, no support, and now unemployed after being unjustly fired from her restauran

Isla Bennett survives on poverty math and a meagre $14.22 bank balance until Gabriel Hunt, the ruthless, intelligent CEO known as The Debt Collector, acquires her $250,847.36 inheritance debt and forces her into a clinical, eighteen-month contract marriage. Told through an alternating first-person POV, this dark romance and financial thriller exposes the cold utility assessment behind a billionaire’s search for an asset chosen specifically for maximum compliance. In a world where finance is a weapon and boardrooms are battlefields, Isla is dragged into a thirty-year revenge plot against the Black Swan, a price-fixing syndicate that murdered her father in 1988. As Gabriel deploys mafia-style

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé’s female best friend, Marisol Vance, sent me a set of photos. In the photos, she wore the custom haute couture wedding gown I had commissioned, leaning into Lucian Drake’s arms, with a caption meant to provoke me: [Borrowing your groom and your dress for a moment—after all, Lucian said I look better in this than you do.] Soon after, my social feed was flooded with their so-called wedding photos. In the images, the two of them staged a mock kiss, the caption reading: [More than friends, not quite lovers. If we had been born ten years earlier, there would have been no place for anyone else.] I held up the photos and confronted Lucian, yet he playe

My husband's beloved lover suffered from menstruation complications. A traveling doctor claimed that a fresh placenta was needed to cure her. His gaze fixated on my seven-months-pregnant baby bump. And thus, I was pinned down on the bed as they ripped the placenta from my body. My son was carelessly tossed aside. He didn't even get the chance to cry before his tiny body fell silent forever. My husband pinched his nose in disgust, frowning as he looked at me—bleeding out, feebly reaching for my child. “It’s just a premature baby. He'll be fine after a few days of care. Why are you making such a fuss? Sandra is waiting for her medicine." He left and locked the door behind him without loo