Dumped

I should’ve known better than to fall for Drake Peterson— my boss, my secret, my addiction, and the only man who could ruin me with a whisper. For two forbidden years, I lived a life no one knew about. By day, I was his perfect secretary. By night, I was the woman he kept hidden in his arms, tangled in his sheets, and locked behind a contract that said I would never expect more. I lied. To him. To myself. To the shattered girl staring back at me every morning. Because I did fall for him—hopelessly, stupidly, completely. And then he destroyed me. With one cold conversation, he terminated our arrangement, handed me a monstrous payout, and told me to walk away like I meant nothing. No explanation. No softness. Just an order: “This is the end, Sabrina.” So I erased him. Deleted my social media. Vanished from New York. And used the money he gave me to build something new— Mendoza Luxe, the jewelry empire that turned me into the woman he never thought I could become. I told myself I was over him. Until the day I ran into an old coworker… and learned the truth I was never meant to hear: Drake is bankrupt. He never married his fiancée. And everything he threw away—including me— he did to protect my life. Now the man who once owned every breath I took is falling from the top… and fate is dragging us back into the same fire that burned us alive. Old desire doesn’t fade. Old wounds don’t heal. Old enemies don’t forget. I survived Drake Peterson once. The question is— can we survive the truth that tore us apart?

Angelina Winterbourne vowed her union with Alpha Nathaniel Byrne would be eternal. It lasted just long enough to cost her everything—most cruelly, her daughter. When dawn raids left Angelina and Iona bleeding out, Nathaniel chose them again, his dearest friend, her golden son. Survival became her rebellion. Now, divorced and disgraced, Angelina has returned to the Black Widow Pack—and to Alpha Malcolm’s audacious offer, redeem her shattered legacy by revolutionising their famine-ravaged farmlands. But as whispers of sabotage spread, Angelina must decide—will she rebuild the soil, or scorch the lies that poisoned her life?

After the breakup, my ex mocked me and called me a coward scavenging for scraps, then lured me to her new lover's winery just to humiliate me in front of everyone. Later, she accidentally shattered a bottle of priceless red wine and tried to pin the blame on me. What she didn't know was… the winery belonged to my family.

I've been married to my wife, Stacy Howard, for 12 years now. She doesn't let me sleep with her unless it's on the 5th or 20th of the month. I thought she was just uninterested in physical intimacy. That is, until I accidentally witness her walking together with her first love, Devin Fisher, on the street on Thanksgiving Day. Stacy, who's always cold and aloof to me, is actually smiling softly at Devin. Our daughter, Tammy Gilbert, tags along with them as well. She holds Devin's hand while calling him "daddy" in the sweetest tone ever. Instead of demanding answers from Stacy, I turn around and head home. There, I dig out the divorce agreement that I've already prepared in advance.

The day I went into labor with the twins, I bribed the family doctor to shoot me up with every heavy-duty suppressant he could get his hands on. Anything to stall the birth. Why? Because in my last life, Vincent—my husband, the Don—claimed to have a low sperm count. To guarantee an heir, he lined up ten mistresses and told the whole house: whoever popped out a son first, her kid would be the next Corleone Don. He promised if I delivered first, he'd ditch the others. Said our baby would inherit the throne. I bought every word. When I found out I was carrying twins, I couldn't stop shaking—I thought I'd won. But after I gave birth, he tossed me and the babies into the freezing wine cellar and locked the place down. "Lucy came from nothing. I just wanted to give her kid a name. You started rumors, pushed her into despair, and now she's dead—her and the baby. You're vile. Not fit to be the Don's wife. Think about what you've done. I'll open the door in three days." Then he had the butler seal it shut. What he didn't know? That night, the cellar caught fire. Me and my babies? Burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right before labor. This time, I'm not staying. Soon as I deliver and get back on my feet, I'm taking my kids and disappearing for good.

Fransisca Ryle is forced to seek a job at the prestigious company owned by Alexander Smith due to the urgent need for funds to cover her seriously ill mother's medical expenses. She secures a position as Alexander's secretary, but she also has to endure the cold demeanor of the CEO and his infuriating girlfriend, Veronica. Unexpectedly, a one-night stand between Fransisca and Alexander leads them to realize that love is blossoming between them. As their relationship deepens, Alexander rekindles his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, leaving Fransisca feeling betrayed and humiliated. She decides to leave Alexander's life and vows to seek revenge in her heart. How the next?

Jace Thorne—my childhood crush—crashed a car with me. I walked away fine. He "lost his memory." Plot twist: my dead grandma's soul moved in. "Jace is faking amnesia again to mess with my sweet granddaughter. If I were alive, I'd break his legs myself!" I blinked. Hard. Grandma's voice wouldn't shut up. "In her past life, Demi was miserable. Jace left her to rot while he partied with that Stafford girl. Had a heart attack, and he was lighting birthday candles. Trash!" Then came the kicker: "Your grandpa's letting you pick your fiancé. Don't even think about Jace. Pick Leroy. That boy's actually decent." Right on cue, Grandpa strolled into the hospital with the elder squad, slapped down pics of four legacy heirs, and told me to choose. I didn't even blink. Picked Leroy Leighton—my childhood nemesis turned fiancé. Because yeah, I'm a grandma's girl to the core. If she said Jace Thorne didn't love me, then I was so done.

For three years, Evelyn lived a lie wrapped in luxury. Her marriage to the cold and powerful Lucian Blackwood was supposed to be a mere business arrangement—a thirty-six-month contract to save her family from ruin. But as the days turned into years, the lines between duty and desire blurred. Evelyn fell for the man who remembered her favorite meals, protected her from the cold, and ensured her medicine was always at hand. She believed that beneath his obsidian gaze, a real heart had begun to beat for her. The illusion shatters on the night of their third anniversary at the Blackwood Estate. With the stroke of midnight and the smell of acrid smoke, Lucian presents her with the Decree of Divorce. The crushing truth is revealed: every gesture of affection, every moment of "domestic bliss," was never about Evelyn. It was a lingering habit from his past with Sarah, his first love who has finally returned to the city. Evelyn wasn't a wife; she was a rehearsal.

A power couple has been together forever since high school and is destined to be a happy family, but faces instability. Past ties have resurfaced, driving a wedge between what was meant to be and what is wanted.

Three years of marriage, and it all ends with two words. Sign it. He didn’t even look up when he said it. Just slid the papers across the table like I was another business deal to close. We weren’t supposed to fall in love it started as a contract, something practical, something safe. But feelings have a way of growing where they shouldn’t. For a while, I thought he cared. The quiet moments, the small things he remembered my favorite song, how I take my tea, the way I hate the rain. I thought they meant something. Turns out, they did. Just not for me. Every gesture, every soft word, was borrowed from a memory. From her. The woman who had him first. The one who left. The one who’s now back. So I signed. I smiled. I walked away. Not because I wanted to but because I had to. He doesn’t chase me. Not yet. But I can feel it the weight of everything unsaid still hanging in the air between us. Maybe he’ll realize what he’s lost. Maybe he won’t. Either way, this time, I’m not waiting around to find out.