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[Urgently Need Breastmilk. Compensation Negotiable.] Eileen Sharp used to be a straight-A student with a bright future until she met her ex-boyfriend and became pregnant. Now a single mother, Eileen needed a second job to make ends meet. Eileen laughed. This was either a joke or a forty-year-old man with a weird kink. She wanted to scroll away, but she had bags of breastmilk in the fridge, and money was tight. Did it matter what the old man did with it, anyway? She risked getting kidnapped. The moment she saw him, she was dazzled. . Billionaire Dominic Presley was engaged to Hollywood’s sweetheart. He had all the money in the world, but it couldn’t buy his infant son formula he could keep down. His fiancé would rather die than breastfeed, choosing to go on a trip instead of staying with their son. Dominic needed a miracle. It was a sweet angel with bags of breastmilk in her arms. The attraction was instant. Can Dominic ignore his growing attraction to Eileen to save his engagement? This woman would save his son, but she was the forbidden fruit he couldn’t refuse. This wouldn’t end well, he knew. Eileen knew her time with him was short. She was her boss. She hated herself for lusting after a taken man. But she hated herself more for wishing the crying little boy was her own. She loved him at first sight, more than his gorgeous father. And she wished she would never part. Can she leave when the time comes? Or will she steal the family she dreams of?

"Kneel, Madison. Or did you forget that a stray like you doesn't deserve to stand in the presence of a True Alpha?" Austin’s voice was a jagged blade, but the heat of his hand on my throat told a different story. He’d traded me for my sister—the "real" daughter—claiming my scent was too weak, my blood too thin. He threw me to the dirt, watching with a smirk as my adoptive father tossed a few hundred-dollar bills at my feet and told me to disappear into the slums. They thought they broke me. They thought I was heading toward a life of hunger and shame with a family of "nobodies." They were dead wrong. When the black helicopters darkened the sky and the most powerful Lycan King in history stepped out to bow to me, the look on Austin’s face was worth more than his pathetic pack. My "impoverished" biological family didn't live in a shack—they owned the world. And my five "starving" brothers? They were the most lethal Alphas on the planet, and they were hungry for the blood of anyone who touched their sister. Now, I’m back. Not as the girl who begged for scraps, but as the Zillionaire Queen with enough silver to buy their souls and enough power to burn their legacy to ash. But there’s a problem: Ethan Harper. The Cursed Lycan King. A man who smells like midnight and looks like sin. He wants my heart, he wants my throne, and he’s determined to prove that while revenge is sweet, submission is delicious. He thinks he can tame the White Wolf. I think I’ll enjoy watching him try.

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

She’s a princess. She’s a weapon. She’s the illegitimate daughter no one was supposed to need. For millenia, peace between supernatural kingdoms has been maintained by a brutal tradition: the Bride Swap. An elven princess for a foreign king. Ten years of marriage to buy one hundred and ninety years of fragile silence. This year, the elves must give a bride to the werewolves. Princess Alicia Sunblade was never meant to be the chosen one. Wild, sharp-tongued, and dangerously gifted by both the goddess of war and the goddess of love, she lives in quiet exile from a father who rules with manipulation and fear. But when her king threatens the one person she loves most, Alicia is forced into an arranged marriage with Alpha Rocco Silvermane — the powerful, feared King of Wolfsreach. Elves and werewolves are natural enemies. Their borders bleed tension. Their histories drip with blood. Rocco is everything Alicia was raised to despise: dominant, ruthless, physically overwhelming — and politically untouchable. Yet he has his own kingdom to protect, his own factions to appease, and his own reasons for accepting the swap. Two rulers. Two unwilling sacrifices. One treaty balanced on a knife’s edge. But Alicia isn’t a lamb being led to slaughter. She is a strategist. A seductress blessed by divine persuasion. A warrior hiding behind silk and ceremony. If her father thinks he’s sending her away to be controlled, he may have just delivered his greatest weapon straight into enemy hands. Because if Alicia is going to be traded… She won’t just survive the wolves. She might just make their king kneel.

My mother-in-law, Barbara Morris, insisted that a load-bearing wall was blocking our home's good energy. She even hired someone to tear it down for a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window. The contractor, Peter Stone, kept refusing. "Ma'am, we really can't do this. If we take this wall down, the whole building will collapse." In my past life, I fought desperately to stop them, even getting on my knees and begging them not to touch this wall that held the entire building together. My husband, Tom Williams, thought I was embarrassing him. He slapped me so hard that my left ear went deaf, and he forced them to demolish the wall anyway. That night, the entire building suffered a catastrophic structural failure. I was trapped under the rubble for seven days and nights with ruptured internal organs. Right before I died, I heard Tom shouting at the rescue team. "Save my mom first! That other woman has insurance. If she dies, we'll get the payout and buy a new place!" At that moment, the resentment inside me hardened. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment when the construction crew had just arrived. Looking at that thick load-bearing wall and Tom's hand about to rise up and strike me, I smiled and handed him the eighty-pound sledgehammer nearby. I said, "Mom's absolutely right. Once we knock down this wall, our place will turn into a luxurious river-view apartment. Anyone who tries to stop us is a complete idiot."

A king crab in the company's storage is about to die. In order to prevent the company from suffering a loss, I decided to buy it at the price of 480 dollars and treat my friends to a nice feast. The next day, my boss, Mitchell Wright, calls me to his office. "Ms. Langford, it's true that the net price of a king crab is 480 dollars. But the company has a rule that states that if an employee buys the company's products, they still have to pay according to the selling price." While I'm quite displeased, I still transfer an additional 400 dollars to the company's bank account. But Mitchell raises his voice at me. "Stop being a smartass! The selling price of a king crab is 88 thousand dollars, not 880 dollars!" I do my best to refute. "But we give all of our customers a 99% discount! Surely you can't force me to spend 88 thousand dollars on a crab!" Mitchell just chuckles icily in return. "Rules are rules! While customers are always right, you're nothing but a corporate slave! What makes you think you deserve to receive the same treatment as the customers? "If you refuse to pay the selling price for the crab, then don't blame me for being ruthless!" As I watch Mitchell, who keeps yelling at me with spittle flying everywhere, I find myself filled with an eerie sense of calm. I hope that Mitchell will still be able to chuckle when he finds out that my dad is the biggest seafood supplier.

Lily’s life hits rock bottom when her gambling stepfather sells her at a private underground auction to pay off his debts. Desperate to fund her sister’s life-saving surgery, Lily is helpless until the highest bidder steps forward: Dante Vallocchi, a cold-hearted billionaire CEO with a dark secret. But Dante didn’t buy her out of mercy. Lily is the spitting image of the woman who betrayed him years ago. He wants revenge, not romance. He forces Lily into a cold-blooded contract: she must pose as his fiancée so he can secure his massive inheritance. In exchange, he will pay for her sister’s medical bills. As the ink dries, Dante’s warning is clear: "In this house, you are not a queen. You are my prisoner." Living in Dante’s world is a dangerous game of luxury and threats. While Dante is a cruel tormentor, he becomes a deadly protector whenever anyone else tries to hurt her. Llily begins to see the broken man behind the ruthless mask, while Dante finds himself falling for the one woman he is supposed to hate. The stakes turn deadly when Dante’s past returns, and Llily discovers she is pregnant. Fearing she is just a pawn in his corporate war, Lily flees. Now, the powerful CEO must decide: will he finish his revenge, or will he drop his billionaire empire to save the woman who truly captured his heart? In a world of lies and mafia rivalries, can a bought bride ever become a beloved wife?

My husband and my best friend had seemingly vanished during my grandfather-in-law's funeral. As I searched for them, I passed Shawn Whitaker's coffin and suddenly saw a live chat window flash into view: [Oh goodie, we're finally dealing with a male lead with a 200 IQ! He dragged Best Girl straight into the coffin before that bitch could find out!] [Aww, he's comforting Best Girl because she's scared of the dark! Aaaaahhhhh!] [That annoying extra is still outside looking for Vincent. She's so dumb, oh my god. I'm right here cheering for Best Boy to cheat with Best Girl because I swear that bitch exists just to get in their way!] Fury surged through me. I moved to flip the coffin lid open, but Jasmine grabbed my arm. "Wait! He can't possibly be in there. I think he went to buy Grandpa coffin nails." [Get yourself a little sister who helps you find happiness like Jazzy, chat.] [And now, in the warm, cramped, humid darkness, two bodies collide and sparks fly. This is metal as hell.] [It's also dangerous as hell. I'm just glad our guy was smart enough to leave a crack for air.] I smirked. Oh, was he? I slammed the lid shut, dragged a nearby lounge chair over, and settled into it. "We've got an hour before the funeral begins, don't we? I think I'll keep Grandpa company." The audience was stunned. [An hour?! They're going to die in there!]

My boyfriend was crippled when he saved me, while his adoptive sister suffered from heart failure after protecting us from misfortune. She had to depend on the expensive imported medicines to sustain life. To pay for their treatment, I sold myself as a lifecasting model on the black market. Not only were my hands and feet coated in the heated silicon, but I also needed to endure strangers touching me without flinching. I needed to pay if the replica was damaged. I begged through my tears, only to receive a few slaps to my face in return. They scolded, "You signed up for this. Don't act innocent now." Humiliated, exhausted, and aching, I still took the money straight to the hospital to buy medicine for his sister. When I passed by the VIP lounge, I heard a familiar laughter. "Chris, this is the 998th test, isn't it? Are you really marrying her once she passes the 999th test?" With a slight frown, Christopher answered, "Yeah. Although testing her is a family tradition, and they're having you to supervise, don't overdo it. I won't have another bride." I froze. Every sacrifice. Every humiliation. Every bit of pain I had endured—it had all been a test. A game to see whether I was worthy of marrying him. Staring at my bruised reflection in the fire-resistant glass, I let out a sudden chuckle. Then, with trembling hands, I turned on the old phone I hadn't touched in two years. I felt tears roll down my cheeks when I told the other person on the line, "Declan, take me home. I regret everything."

The day before the wedding, I go to the bridal shop to pick up my custom wedding dress. The clerk informs me apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone. Yesterday, a woman called Ms. Lovelett came and picked up your dress." My best friend, Sherry Lancelot, suddenly remembers something. "Isn't that the surname of your fiance's secretary? He's so thoughtful. He had your dress picked up in advance for you." But in the next second, Mary Lovelett posts a social media update. In her photo, she is wearing my one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress that is worth hundreds of millions and posing coquettishly in front of the camera. The caption reads, "Zachary is the best boss in the world. I casually said I wanted to take some portraits. He generously bought me a globally limited outfit for a photoshoot so that I can take the photos to my heart's desire!" I look at the post and reply coldly, "That's the wedding dress I personally chose for myself. Since when did it become your photoshoot outfit?" The post is deleted instantly. My fiance, Zachary Everdon, calls me angrily. "What nonsense comment was that? I just lent your stupid dress to Mary for a bit. It's a cheap, one-time thing anyway. I can buy you a dozen more to make up for it." I let out a cold laugh and record the call. Then, I send him a screenshot of the 200 million dollars purchase record. I say, "Sure. Will you pay by check or by direct transfer? Hurry up. Once you pay, we're calling off the engagement."