Murder On The Orient Express

When billionaire Dominic Hayes is accused of corporate fraud, he hires Serena Caldwell, the country’s top lawyer, to clear his name. As Serena uncovers a web of betrayal led by Dominic’s vengeful cousin, danger escalates, and sparks fly between them. Torn between professionalism and passion, they must work together to expose the truth—before it’s too late

Been Alpha Archer’s mate for seven years now, and he still can’t remember my birthday. Even though he’s ice-cold to me, I still love him so much. I keep telling myself our mate bond’s gonna make him and his wolf fall for me one day. On my birthday, I left work early hoping to hang with Archer and our daughter Trista. But what really broke me? Finding out Archer took Trista to see his real love.They left me all alone for the whole day. That’s when I finally called it quits with him. And when Trista said she wanted that woman to be her mom instead of me?I didn’t even hurt anymore. I drafted the divorce papers, gave up custody of Trista, and walked out. Now I’m just waiting for the final divorce order. After leaving my family and going back to work, I showed everyone who used to look down on me I’m way better than they ever thought. But Archer still won’t reject me—and neither will I. On top of that, he’s been coming back to the pack a lot more lately. When he found out I wanted a divorce, his usual coldness was gone in a second. He pinned me against the wall, growling, “Divorce?Ain’t gonna happen.”

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"

He once thought she was just a quiet wife with no big dreams. Now, she’s the face on every magazine, the woman the world admires and the one he let slip away. Eunice Ednah had nothing when she walked out of David Richard’s mansion: no money, no name, and no support. What she had was determination. And a secret: she was carrying his child. Years later, David watches her rise from the shadows to the spotlight, now a billionaire fashion mogul with power, beauty, and grace. The same woman he once underestimated is now the one the city celebrates. It was their child that brought them face to face again David must face the truth: he lost more than a wife. Will love find a second chance? Or has Eunice closed that chapter forever?

On the day of my wedding with Hannah Hawkes, her first love, Lucas Tate, sends his critical notice to her. He mentions that he wants to wear a wedding tuxedo one last time at a wedding before his death. In order to fulfill Lucas' wish, Hannah locks me up in a lounge and gets ready to attend the wedding with him. Her impatient voice echoes outside the door. "Why are you so cold-blooded? Lucas is about to die, you know! What's the harm in letting him have his way?" Some time after that, Freya Jensen, the young woman who lives next door, gets up to the rooftop and begs me to marry her. With red-rimmed eyes, Hannah asks pleadingly, "Are you going to give up on our seven-year relationship because of her?" I merely slap her hand away. "Am I supposed to watch Freya die? It's just a marriage registration. Stop being cold-blooded, will you?"

My fiancé, Dominic, heir to the Carvalho crime family, vanished for four days. I thought a rival family had put a bullet in his head. Then I saw his ex’s Instagram story. A shot of them in bed. The caption: He still knows every inch of me. His face was hidden, but his hand wasn't. And on it, the ring I gave him, resting on her skin. That night, Dominic came home. He brought me white roses, my favorite. I asked him why. Why he'd lie. Why he'd sleep with her. He brushed it off. Just a "misunderstanding." I was done. I threw the ring in his face. Burned the wedding dress. Told him we were over. He thought I was just throwing a fit. He didn't get it. Not until he realized I was walking away for good. Then he panicked. Begged me to come back.

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.

[ENG/FREE] When the whole world turns against you, you’ll have no other choice but face them head-on. Anna is the abomination. She is the product of the two strongest werewolves in unrecorded history and has just started making her mark. As a 20-year-old orphan, she’s surprisingly successful by being a university student during the day and a highly skilled special agent at night. However, what happens when the line between agent and student blurs, her personal life mixing in with her work life? Especially when a troublesome senior at school becomes her new target? And when matters of her past are dug up, who will she trust?

Pria Percival, a student of PAFI, passionate for films and documentaries. Ironically, her life is not in her direction as she was fired from her part-time job and met Triden Mark Lavadez, heir of Lavadez Shipping Lines. Then, had an explicit agreement that would benefit both parties. Agreement that made Pria ingest her remaining dignity and philosophy.

A week before my death, my Alpha mate's childhood sweetheart Sarah returned to our pack. That night, he didn't come home. The next day, I received his mind-link. "I've purchased a mate-bond severing potion from the pack witch. Come home now so we can break our bond." In our pack, the Moon Goddess was very serious about mate bonds. Once two wolves chose to form a mate, the mate bond could not be severed, unless the witch's potion was used. This potion was very expensive, costing up to $500,000 per bottle. I smiled bitterly. He was very generous to sever the bond with me. I coughed twice before answering, "I'm in the healing center." His voice turned ice cold. "I don't care where you are. Even if you're about to die, you need to come back." I calmly replied, "Fine." He didn't know that I really was dying. Three years ago, during a rogue wolf attack, I blocked the silver dagger for him to protect him while he was unconscious. I was poisoned by silver and became weaker and weaker over the past three years. I only had one week left to live. On the day of my funeral, my mate was busy holding his marking ceremony with Sarah. Later, he knelt before my grave in pristine white ceremonial clothes, clutching my headstone and whispering through tears. "If there's another life after this one, I still want to marry you." That day was his marking ceremony with his childhood sweetheart. It was also my funeral.