Khr Flame Personalities

Selene was against her mother's marriage to another man and refused to attend their wedding. However, her decision turns into regret when the couple dies on their wedding day, leaving Selene as an orphan completely. Being only 19 and with no way of sustaining herself, she moves in with her uncle, a live-in driver for a wealthy family. In the mansion, she's able to get a job as a maid to gain income to sponsor herself for University. This was just her plan while working alongside her Uncle but the situation changes when Selene catches the eye of not one but two sons of the family. The two sons doted on her so much and were already to have at her cost. What would happen if Selene was meant to choose beautiful two sons? Aren't you curious to know the names of these two sons and their personalities? Won't you have a favorite among the sons and want the same man for Selene ? Find out whether Selene was going to choose anyone between the two in this intriguing novel, "Two Brothers On Her”

She was the lowest among them, an omega meant to serve, to obey, to be forgotten. Until the Alpha touched her. Until he marked her with words that felt like a promise... and shoved her off a cliff like she was nothing. Ayla thought betrayal had a name, a face, a heartbeat she once trusted. She thought the crashing water would be her grave. But death didn’t claim her. The dragon did. She awakens not in darkness, but in silk sheets soaked with sweat, her body wracked with fire, strangers calling her Queen Liliana. The child they beg her to bring into the world is no wolf pup, it’s something older, deeper… and hers. Now fire sings in her veins. Scales burn beneath her skin. She remembers being Ayla. But they swear she is a queen, reborn through flame and fury, the last of the dragon-blooded line. Torn between two lives, two names, two fates… Was she reborn by fate’s hand, or was she always meant to rise? Because if this isn’t death, then it must be the beginning… of the Dragon Queen.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

Rhea Ravelle, heiress of a powerful and influential family, goes against her family's wishes and cuts ties with them. She chooses to marry Carter Jamison, a man with a failing career and two children born out of wedlock. For six years, she raises his children as if they were her own and helps Carter rebuild his crumbling business. Under her care, the kids grow into kind, well-mannered little stars, and Carter's company finally makes it big and goes public. But right at the celebration marking his entry into high society, the biological mother of his two children suddenly shows up. And Carter, who is usually so calm, completely loses it. He begs the woman to stay, making Rhea the laughingstock of the entire city. That night, he doesn't come home. Instead, he takes the children and runs straight back to his old flame, playing house as a happy family. Soon after, Carter files for divorce. "Thanks for everything, Rhea. But the kids need their birth mother." The children's mother also says, "Thank you for taking care of them all these years. But a stepmother will never compare to a birth mother." So blood beats love? If that's how it is, then she's done playing stepmother. However, the children reject their birth mother flat-out, and they don't want Carter either. They declare, "Rhea is our only mom! If you're getting divorced, then we're going wherever she goes!"

William Donovan was in a coma for three years. And for three years, Grace Whitmore never once left his side. She gave up her career, her pride, even her own life—just to be there for the man she loved. But when William finally opened his eyes… He didn’t ask for Grace. He asked for his old flame—the woman who suddenly came back into his life. And Grace? She was just a replacement. A filler. Someone he could throw away the moment the “real one” returned. It didn’t take long before the whispers started: "The true princess is back. The useless stand-in can go now." It hurt. But when the divorce papers landed in William’s hands, one line made him freeze: Reason for divorce: male dysfunction. After that, Grace vanished. And when William finally found her again, she wasn’t the gentle, loyal woman he remembered. He was standing in front of someone new—elegant, confident, and completely untouchable. With a calm smile, Grace looked at him and asked just one thing: “Mr. Donovan, are you here for a male dysfunction consultation?”

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.