Being Slutted Out

Riley never planned to work for Jax Maddox—the arrogant, insufferable, and ridiculously good-looking tennis champion. She only took the job when her twin sister, Vanessa falsely applied for an elite assistant position under her name, landed it, and then vanished. But now, she’s stuck—answering to Jax’s impossible demands, biting back her sharp retorts, and trying not to lose her mind (or the job) under his relentless teasing. Jax Maddox doesn’t do assistants. They never last. And yet, there’s something about Riley—her sharp mouth, her refusal to be intimidated by him—that gets under his skin. So, instead of firing her, he makes her life miserable just to see how long she’ll last. But Riley has bigger things to worry about—like Leo Carter, Jax’s friend and the only man who has ever made her heart race at first sight. As Leo turns up the charm and Jax turns up the torment, Riley finds herself caught between two men who are used to winning. Riley has to decide: will she play it safe, or will she risk everything—including her heart? And for whom—Leo or Jax?

Era, one of the liaison officers, is a college girl having a financial problem. When she told Sir Mik about her struggle, he immediately offered her to be a maid in return of providing her financial needs. Does Sir Mik really needs a maid?

I was ditched by my father, Alpha of Northcrest Pack. Dumped in the borderlands for a whole decade. "Danae's still young. Once she hits eighteen, we'll bring you back. She's always been insecure 'cause she's adopted. When she's stronger, we'll come for you." Yeah, right. I didn't even look at that delusional she-wolf. Just kept watering my orchard. Even my so-called brother backed Danae. "Danae's the sister I grew up with. Disrespect her when you return, and we're done." Their voices? Just white noise. I shut it down cold. "Wrong wolf. I don't know you." They had the nerve to call themselves family. Joke's on them—I've had real parents for the last eight years.

Ethan Cross, an FBI agent, has been pursuing Dante Valensi, one of the nation's most influential and untouchable crime lords, for years. Dante has created an empire that law enforcement has never been able to destroy. He is cunning, ruthless, and feared by all. Ethan, however, is unique. He has been assigned the task of entering Dante's world as Luca Romano, moving up the ranks, and destroying him from within. It is almost impossible to get close to Dante. He doesn’t trust anyone and doesn’t allow anyone to be close to him, especially not romantically. However, in the role of Luca, Ethan excels at the game, gains Dante’s confidence, and becomes his right-hand man. He gets closer to his objective with each step. It becomes more difficult to keep in mind that this is only a mission every moment spent with Dante. Then everything changes one night. An overly persistent touch. The look says too much. A weakness that neither of them can undo. What little and dishonesty develops into something harmful that is unavoidable. It’s just part of the job, Ethan tells himself. Dante is an evil creature. that the worst thing he could ever do is fall in love with him. What occurs, though, when the lie begins to seem more plausible than reality? Ethan has to decide whether to finish his mission and bring down the man he was sent to destroy or to give in to the one person he was never supposed to love as secrets come to light, treachery looms, and blood is shed. Because there is only one way in with Dante Valenci. And no escape route.

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly. At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest. The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices. I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room. "Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!" He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me. After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him. On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise. There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection. The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal. "Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?" Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs." It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie. I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent. "Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

Elise Thatcher took care of Kayden Anderson, a rich Billionaire who was in coma for three years. To make things easy for Elise to take care of Kayden, his grandma let them marry. Elise endured the harsh treatment from her in-laws for the sake of love, thinking she could melt his frozen heart. She hid her identity and healed Kayden until he could walk again. But when he recovered, he demanded a divorce coldly, bringing home his first love. Elise had enough. She forced him to sign the divorce papers and returned to claim her throne, becoming the most sought after Queen in the business world. Elise flung the papers at Kayden's face. Kayden glared at her in surprised. The people around them gasped in shock. How could Elise do this to Kayden, a multibillionaire and her husband?! "I've signed it. Don't worry. Jessie doesn't need to leave. I'll leave," Elise mocked as she walked pass them. However, Kayden grabbed ahold of her arm and pulled her back, his grip bruising and punishing. "Where do you think you're going? Kneel and apologize to Jessie!" "Apologize to her? For what?" Elise blinked her eyes innocently. She fought back a wince. Kayden was increasing his grip on her arm as if he wanted to break it. "For scaring her. You should treat her with respect," Elise burst out laughing, catching everyone off guard. Her heart felt like it was hit by a sledgehammer over and over again. "You want me, your legal wife to apologize to your mistress? Kayden, do you know what you're saying?"

“Just stay married to me for three years. After that, we divorce. In return, I’ll help you destroy your husband and the woman who took your child.” I agreed. Not because I was weak. But because I survived. I was once a devoted wife. Obedient. Loyal. Pregnant with a child I believed would save my marriage. Then his first love returned, and everything I trusted turned to blood and betrayal. We were rushed to the same hospital. I was bleeding. She was crying in his arms. There was only one operating room left. He chose her. He wheeled his mistress, his first love, into surgery and left me behind to miscarry alone. I lost my baby on a cold hospital bed while my husband held another woman’s hand. I divorced him. But some wounds do not heal. They sharpen. Now I have a contract marriage, a man with no love to give, and a plan written in patience and pain. I will take everything my ex-husband values, piece by piece, and make him beg for what he threw away. Forgiveness is for the dead. And I am very much alive. Watch out, husband. I will ruin you.

I've loved Jonathan Pickle for half my life. I used my family's resources to help him attain success. However, in the third year of our marriage, he brought his mistress home to stomp all over my pride. That wasn't the worst of it—he even destroyed my family. … I open my eyes to see Jonathan in his university days. Unexpectedly, I'm not the only person who's been given a second chance at life.

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?