Grant Ward Marvel Novels & Stories

Three years ago, my father sent me to Damian’s side. Every day is a battle of wits with that cold, ruthless Alpha. Every night, I lose myself in his arms. I think… I've finally found the love I am destined for. I was so happy, so sure of our future, that I started planning our bonding ceremony. Until Clara showed up. By then, I realized just how naive I had been. For Clara, Damian locked me away in the isolation cell to teach me a lesson. He spent millions on her without a second thought, but left me alone in a hospital ward unconscious for seven hours. When it came down to life and death, he never hesitated to choose Clara, leaving me bleeding on the ground. The most ironic part? When I finally gave up and walked away, he lost his mind. He started insisting that I am his mate, his one true love. Damian, you're too late.

They said Omegas like me were meant to be weak. Disposable. Forgettable. Rylan Ward—my fated mate and heir to the Blackridge Pack—made sure everyone believed that when he rejected me for my own twin sister. He mocked my body, chained me to him with blackmail, and called me nothing but his whore. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. The night I broke, I met them—Soren and Kieran Duskbane, the powerful Moon Eclipse princes. One called me beautiful. The other saw me as prey. Together, they turned my world upside down. Now Mirena, my perfect sister, has her sights set on seducing them too. And Rylan, the mate who once threw me away, can’t stop crawling back to me. So I’ll burn them all with the same fire they lit in me. I’ll seduce. I’ll destroy. And when they’re all on their knees, they’ll finally learn the truth: An Omega is never powerless—especially the one who has nothing to lose anymore.

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

Synopsis: Shattered Vows: The Hidden Heiress's Coldest Return "I gave you four years of my life, my genius, and my heart. You gave me a divorce settlement and a motel room. Now, I’m taking back the throne you didn't even know I owned." For four years, Elena was the perfect "charity bride" to Grant Thorne. She lived in the shadows, wore shapeless sweaters, and secretly saved his failing company from bankruptcy using her hidden genius. She endured his coldness and his mother’s cruelty, believing she was an orphan who owed him her life. But on their anniversary, the illusion shatters. Grant serves her divorce papers to marry a "high-society" mistress, mocking Elena for being "small" and "statusless." Little does he know, Elena isn't a beggar she is the long-lost heiress of the Valerius Empire, the most powerful conglomerate in the city. The car accident that "orphaned" her wasn't an accident at all; it was a lethal trap set by those she trusted most. Stepping back into the world as the Ice Queen of Valerius, Elena sheds her mousey persona for 30-inch silk hair, designer armor, and a heart made of diamond. She isn't just coming for her crown; she’s coming to erase every person who stepped on her. Standing in her way or perhaps beside her is Dante Blackwood, the "King of the North" and her family’s greatest rival. He’s a man who has been watching her from the shadows for years, holding a secret contract that claims her as his own. In a world of high-stakes auctions, corporate massacres, and blood-stained legacies, Elena must decide: Will she destroy the man who broke her heart, or will she burn the whole world down with the wolf who’s been waiting for her to wake up?

I had an arranged marriage, and my wife was the only daughter of her family. Because of PTSD, she couldn't be intimate with anyone. When she handed me the signed agreement, she also sent a gentle, obedient woman to my room. "Even though it's our wedding night, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with this." I stared at her in disbelief, wondering if this was some kind of test of my character. Just as I was about to launch into a speech about loyalty and marriage, I suddenly heard the thoughts of the psychologist standing beside her. [What does he have to complain about? That position should've been mine! If Kayla didn't need the Grant family's support, she never would've agreed to marry a loser like him! Luckily, Kayla loves me. She even used PTSD as an excuse to save herself for me. I just need to try harder and get her pregnant, then Benjamin Grant will become a complete laughingstock!] The words that had been on the tip of my tongue disappeared instantly. Without hesitation, I accepted Kayla's arrangement. There was nothing wrong with people in a business marriage living separate lives. I wasn't an idiot. Why would I pick a fight with Kayla over something like this? Living peacefully and minding my own business was the smartest choice. To show that I had no inappropriate intentions toward her, I even ordered maternity and baby supplies for her. "I heard you're pregnant. Coincidentally, the woman you sent to me is pregnant too." I was planning to ask her for some advice. Instead, her face darkened. She gritted her teeth and snapped, "I'm not pregnant! She's not your mistress either. She's the IVF coordinator I hired to get you up to speed!"

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home. Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly. Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.] Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?" Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting? "Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!" I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy. Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

The past never stays buried forever... The past caught up with Harper Carrington in the cruelest way. After tragedy summoned her home to Virginia's Blue Ridge mountains, she was confronted with another twist of the knife – Wyck, her first love who abandoned her fifteen years before and disappeared off the map. Wyck Ward never planned to see Harper again after her powerful father exiled him from Carrington Ridge. Consumed by the desire for revenge, Wyck spent over a decade systematically destroying the man's corrupt legacy. But with his enemy suddenly dead, Wyck realizes his all-consuming vendetta could cost him what his fractured soul needs - Harper. Join Harper and Wyck as they discover if some hearts are too damaged to ever mend or if even the coldest embers can flare back to life when two fractured souls find the pieces they’ve been missing. If you enjoy small town, second chance romances with complex characters, all the feels, a side of steam, and lots of twisty mountain roads, you'll love this first book in the new Carrington Ridge series.

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

My fiancé's childhood sweetheart could eat chili peppers like they were nothing, and she even claimed that they tasted sweet. The truth was, whenever she ate something spicy, the heat multiplied a hundred times in my stomach and shrank to almost nothing in hers. That was how she blew up online doing spicy food challenges, pulling in millions of followers in no time. As for me, I ended up with a wrecked stomach and a face covered in breakouts. I had no choice but to ask my fiancé for help. Not only did he refuse, but he also tried to have me committed. "Who still believes in this kind of nonsense? Either see a therapist or go check yourself into a psych ward!" Later, she entered a national spicy eating competition. After downing ten pounds of ghost peppers, she walked away just fine. Meanwhile, I died on the spot from a ruptured stomach. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Sally Wallaker had just started streaming. I reached out and snatched the utensil from her hand. "I'll take this whole bowl of extra-spicy Cajun wings."

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.