It's Never Late

«BOOK 2: Ex-wife's Revenge Series.» Violet escaped an arranged marriage, taking up a new Identity, to live a free life like any normal girl. When she met Clyde Crawford, she was everything he wanted, and he was her perfect reality, Until that reality shattered along with her heart. Each of his actions was a well-orchestrated lie. The man who cherished her, hated her, in fact. Broken and betrayed, Violet walked out of his life with a secret she vowed to hide from him forever. But, five years later, he stumbled upon that secret. Clyde Crawford is in for the biggest shock of his life when his Ex-wife's true identity comes to light.

My first time meeting Lawrence Seinfield was during my return to a noble family as its heiress. He helped me get out of a sticky situation once, and for that, I spent five years trying to steal his heart. I loved him. Eventually, he became my fiance, but he thought I was beneath him. He thought my lack of education and proper upbringing was bad. My grandfather, the one who raised me, was dying. Just when I needed his help the most, he decided to teach me a lesson and show me my place. Without any help, my grandfather died, and like Lawrence wished, I knew my place. And I lost my love for him.

She gave him one month. He thought it was greed. He had no idea it was goodbye. Annabella Hills has been invisible her whole life—raised as a charity case, scorned by her mother-in-law, and forced into a loveless marriage with Alpha Antonio Greenwood to honor his late father's dying wish. For years, she's endured cold indifference from the husband who sees her as nothing more than an obligation, while the pack whispers that she's not worthy of the Luna title she's never been allowed to claim. When Antonio announces he's finally found his fated mate, Annabella knows her time is up. But instead of stepping aside quietly, she makes one final request: one month. One month where Antonio must treat her as his true wife, his true Luna, before they perform the rejection ritual at the Moon Rite. Antonio thinks she's desperately clinging to a title she never deserved. His mother thinks she's a shameless homewrecker standing between true mates. Even Christiana sees her as nothing more than an obstacle to be removed. None of them know the truth. Annabella isn't fighting for a marriage—she's fighting for a chance at the one thing she's never had. As the only surviving heir of the Ancient Wolf Clan, hunted since childhood and hidden in plain sight, she's spent her entire life unloved and alone. Now, with her heat approaching and time running out, she wants one precious thing before she disappears forever: a child to love, and to be loved by in return. But as the month unfolds and Antonio begins seeing his wife for the first time realizes he's been blind to the treasure he's had all along.

They say the perfect crime leaves no witnesses. But what happens when the victim refuses to stay dead? On the happiest day of her life, she was betrayed by the only person she trusted. He took her fortune. He erased her name. He watched her burn and toasted to her memory. He thinks he is safe. He thinks the past is buried six feet under. But what if the grave was empty? Three years later, a mysterious woman walks into his life. She is everything he desires: powerful, beautiful, and dangerous. She knows his secrets before he speaks them. She knows his weaknesses before he shows them. He is drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unaware that she is the very fire he tried to extinguish. He thinks he’s found a new partner. He has no idea he is shaking hands with his own executioner. She is standing right in front of him, wearing a stranger’s face but holding a dead woman’s grudge. How long can a murderer look into the eyes of his victim without realizing who she is? And when the mask finally slips... will he have time to scream?

​"I bought you for three years, Spring. That means for 1,095 days, your body, your soul, and your very breath belong to me." ​To the world, Spring Willow is the luckiest woman alive—married to the legendary billionaire August Harrington. To August, she is nothing but a shadow of the woman he lost, a scapegoat for a tragedy she didn’t cause. ​The terms of their "marriage" are written in blood and cold hard cash: -​$300,000 a month for her grandmother’s life. ​One hundred rules she must never break. And most important ​rules of all: Never expect his heart. Spring was prepared for his coldness. She was ready for his cruelty. But she wasn’t prepared for the moment his hatred turned into a suffocating obsession—one that threatens to keep her bound to him long after the 1,095 days are up. ​Just as Spring prepares to break under his weight, a new shadow emerges. Another power player, equally ruthless and twice as determined, offers her a way out. ​The contract was signed in pain, but the ending will be written in fire. When revenge turns to possessiveness, who will Spring choose: The man who owns her, or the man who wants to steal her away?

"I spent three years being his 'used rag.' Now, I’m the one cleaning up his empire, starting with the trash." For three years, Shay Falcone lived for her husband, Massimo. She worked twelve-hour shifts behind the scenes, skipping meals and sleep to ensure his company became a billion-dollar legend. She was his ghostwriter, his secret strategist, and his most loyal soldier. She thought her reward would be the child growing inside her. But on the night of the Billionaire Launch, Massimo didn't give her a thank you. He gave her a death sentence. "You're a used rag, Shay," he sneered in front of the world's cameras. "A servant I don't need to pay. Meet my real wife, Elena." One shove from his bodyguards sent Shay spiraling into a stone fountain. As Massimo walked away to celebrate his wealth, Shay lay in a pool of blood, feeling the heartbeat of her child stop forever. Two years later, the rag is gone. The Ice Queen has arrived. When Massimo’s empire begins to crumble, he begs for a meeting with the untouchable Alessia Valois. He expects a savior; instead, he finds the wife he killed. "Shay?" Massimo gasps, reaching for her. "I... I’ve realized my mistake. Please, I still love you." Alessia doesn't even look up from her glass of vintage scotch. She steps over his hand as if he were a stain on the carpet. "I’m sorry, Mr. Falcone," she purrs, her voice cold enough to freeze his soul. "The woman who loved you died in a fountain. I’m just here to collect the debt."

It has been 99 times that Henry and I have filed the application for divorce and then withdrawn it. Each time before finalizing the divorce, Henry always waits for me to humbly beg him to stay married. I turned down the offer to be the chief composer at a famous studio in Vienna because Henry didn't want a long-distance relationship. I deleted all my male friends because Henry didn't want me to be too friendly to them. I stopped wearing red lipstick, composing, and traveling alone, because he said married women should stay at home instead of being impulsive. Only after I finally manage to appease him will he allow me to withdraw the divorce application. After my 100th divorce application, as I was leaving, the deputy clerk asked me curiously: "So, when are you going to withdraw your application this time?" I looked at Henry's cold back in front of me, forced to smile with tears, and told myself in my heart— This time, there will be no withdrawal of the application. After the 30-day cooling-off period, we'll be officially divorced. But why did his love only find its voice when I had already walked away?

My husband's true love developed acute kidney failure, and I was the only matching donor. To save her life, he forced me to terminate my pregnancy at six months. Despite his gentle tone, he said the most heart-wrenching words, "Can't you be a little kinder? You're just losing a child, but she's losing her life." I resisted with every fiber of my being, but he threatened his own life to force my hand. On the operating table, both my child and I died. Meanwhile, his true love's transplant was a success, and she lived. Although the outcome was exactly what he wanted, he spiraled into madness upon hearing news of my death.

My ex-husband has remarried. Before the wedding, his new wife sends me an invitation. I can't understand this. Why would she invite her husband's ex-wife to her wedding? Half a year later, my ex-husband and his new wife make it onto the trending topics. #HaveMilesGallagher'sStandardsDroppedAfterHisDivorce? #MilesGallagherMustBeFilledWithRegret

My boyfriend passed away from illness. Before he died, he asked me to look after his only younger brother—Callum Ressler. I put Callum through college, and helped him build his company from the ground up. Then one night, after a round of drinking at some work function, he ended up in bed with me. While I wrestled with what we were to each other, I noticed something on his office desk: a photo of me, framed neatly beside an engagement ring. My heart stirred. I pushed open the lounge door, ready to finally talk about us. But just as the door creaked open, a white camisole fell at my feet. I froze. Callum pulled the covers tightly around a shocked female assistant. "Diana, ever heard of knocking?" he snapped. Face pale, limbs suddenly uncoordinated, I started backing out. But the assistant's timid voice stopped me. "Diana… could you hand me my clothes?" I ignored the hostility behind her eyes, grabbed the garment, tossed it onto the bed, and left in a hurry. Once I stepped outside the company building, Callum called. "Diana, you should really stop barging into my room like that." I laughed and agreed. From that moment on, I never stepped into his world again.