I Have Just Learnt To

Roxanne's fiancé was suddenly snatched by her stepsister. In return, she got into a forced marriage with her stepsister's fiancé, a wealthy billionaire whom her sister had rejected because he was disabled.Bound by familial obligations and in order to reclaim her late mother's shopping center, Roxanne agreed to replace her sister and marry the "Crippled" billionaire, Henry Ford. Little did she know that she had thrown a rock and picked a diamond instead. Henry Ford, the crippled billionaire, was more than meets the eye! For Roxanne, the grass was indeed greener on Henry Ford's side. …"Make me yours, Henry," Roxanne said, her eyes pleading. Henry's electric blue eyes whirled with affection as he gazed into her eyes. His love was all that mattered to her. "Roxy, are you certain? Once I make you mine, there's no turning back." Henry's eyes darkened as he got closer to her. “Is this what you really want?”"You don't want me?" Roxanne asked instead, looking sad. Henry grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. He glanced down at her and whispered, "I've wanted you from the very first day I laid my eyes on you." Roxanne's heart skipped a beat as she felt the intensity of his grip. She could sense the raw desire in his touch, and it sent delicious shivers down her spine. “Then prove it,” she whispered breathlessly.

Hunter rejected his mate Tara because he believed love made you weak. Since she ran away, his life is messed up. He does anything he can to find her. Will she forgive him? Or will she not want her chosen mate. Can love heal them both or push them further apart.

Sera Moore has spent three years hiding her daughter, and the truth. Their secret marriage was meant to protect Elias’s legacy. Instead, it destroyed hers. But when Elias is found alive with no memory of her, Sera is dragged back into a world of luxury, lies, and danger. To keep her child safe, she must pretend to be the billionaire’s grieving wife. Only he’s no longer the man she remembers. And the deeper she falls back into his world, the harder it is to tell what’s real, his amnesia… or the feelings they both buried.

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

CEO vs Doctor Kung kailan gising na yung taong totoo mong minahal saka naman... makikita mo ang pagmamahal niya. Paano mo malalabanan 'yon?

In high school, I had finally worked up the courage to confess my feelings to my longtime crush. The next day, he disappeared from my life without a word. Heartbroken and furious, I moved on and started dating someone else, leaving him behind in my memories. Years passed, and I thought I had buried that part of my life. But ten years later, fate threw us back together—this time, he was my new boss. Not just any boss, but my boss’ boss. I had no idea how to face him, but one thing was clear: resigning suddenly felt like my best option.

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

Five years ago, Damon Thorne publicly severed the mate bond and personally sent Elara Rivers to prison. On the day of her release, Damon grabbed Elara at the hospital: "Your sister Isabella has been in a car accident and needs a kidney transplant, so give her your kidney." Elara was born with a congenital heart disease, and the kidney donation would have cost her life. She refused, but he used every means to force her. On the day of the surgery, her heart suddenly stopped, and the rescue efforts were ineffective. Reportedly, the man who desperately wished for Elara's death cried at her grave day and night. Later, he saw her again, and she had already married The Alpha King Lucian (also Damon's half-brother), holding a five-year-old child, and had become Lucian's cherished and adored young wife. Damon: "I know I was wrong, please come back to me." Lucian :"Get out of here, she is my one and only Luna."

"My husband sold me like property. But the man who bought me... he wants to make me his queen." For three years, Stacy has endured the unthinkable. Her husband Matt doesn't just neglect her—he sells her. Night after night, he forces her into the beds of wealthy investors and powerful business partners, using her body to seal his deals. An "open marriage," he calls it. But there's nothing open about being used as merchandise. "I was his business asset. His bargaining chip. His whore." At the Sterling Gala, Matt drugs her and delivers her to a room full of predators—five men ready to claim their "payment." But something inside Stacy finally breaks. She fights back. She runs. And crashes straight into the arms of Michael Sotheby—billionaire, corporate king, and the one man even her husband fears. "I didn't save you for free. You owe me a debt. And I intend to collect." Michael's protection comes with a price. What starts as a transaction becomes something far more dangerous. His touch doesn't feel like violation. His kiss awakens desires she thought were dead. For the first time in three years, she feels alive. But when morning comes, terror grips her heart. Michael isn't just any billionaire—he's Matt's biggest rival. And he has no intention of letting her go. Caught between the husband who sells her and the billionaire who wants to own her, Stacy discovers that sometimes the most dangerous man is the only one who can set you free. WARNING: This book contains mature themes including sexual coercion, trafficking within marriage, dubious consent, dark romance elements, and morally complex characters. Intended for adult readers only.

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.