Nietzsche Photos

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.

Yselle Morel is watching her family's glassworks collapse—unpaid wages, angry suppliers, a bank ready to shut the gates. When Renaud Valois, a feared billionaire financier, offers a rescue, it comes with a cruel condition: marriage. He says it’s business. His eyes say it’s revenge. In Valois’s riverside estate outside Paris, Yselle plays the obedient wife—smiling, thanking staff, acting harmless. She calls it "wife camouflage." Then she finds a locked room behind the library wall: a war room filled with files, photos, and timelines about her father’s life… and a folder stamped with Yselle’s name. Renaud didn’t choose her. He planned her. As “accidents” start closing in—tampered brakes, poisoned tea, a near fall on a dark stairwell—Yselle realizes the marriage isn’t only punishment. It’s protection. Someone wants her silent before the Day 30 board vote that will decide her family’s future. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more she fears the man who raised her. On the eve of the vote, Yselle opens the last drawer in the war room and finds an envelope addressed to her—in her mother’s handwriting. The ink looks fresh. Then the lights go out, and a voice behind her whispers, “Don’t trust your husband.”

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

My five-year-old daughter loved telling lies. I had taken her out to a simple school supplies run, but she yelled on the street that I was a human trafficker. Consequently, I nearly got arrested and taken to the police station. When we went home, she cried and threw herself in my husband’s arms to complain about me before I could say anything. “Dad, Mom wouldn’t buy me stationeries. She even hit me on the street!” I offered my husband an explanation. He heard me out, but I did not expect him to angrily slap me when I was finished. “Our daughter is only five. She can’t lie. Can’t you just put up with it?!” When I drove my daughter to school, she got down on her knees in front of me while the other parents were around. “Mom, please let me go to school. I don’t want to take naked photos for those guys.” When the teacher checked my phone, it was full of my daughter’s explicit photos. A mob of angry parents pushed me into the traffic, killing me. I could not figure out why my biological daughter would behave that way, even as I lay dying. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when I was about to buy stationery for my daughter.

The year I was at rock bottom, I took on three "conquest" missions. Number One was a tech prodigy. Number Two was a genius doctor. Number Three was a top dog in the legal world. Judging by how busy they all were, I thought that with some careful time management, handling all three would be a piece of cake. However, I forgot one thing. Three CEOs meant dealing with three difficult girlfriends. That morning, Number One CEO Eric's childhood sweetheart accused me of stealing her charm bracelet. Eric beat me, yelled at me, and made me stand all day. That afternoon, Number Two's Ron's girlfriend tore into me, figuratively ripping my kidney out. Ron warned me that he had only let me get close so I could serve as a stand-in for her. By evening, Number Three's Lance had his girlfriend taking secret photos of me and spreading rumors, and he told me to be gracious, saying she was "just joking." I could not take this nonstop 24-hour torture anymore, so I told the system, I quit. I want to go home. The system replied, "Quitting is simple. Just die in this world." I listened. However, after I executed my death escape, why did all three CEOs completely lose their composure?

⚠️ WARNING: 18+ READERS ONLY ⚠️ This book is an erotica collection containing 20 different stories filled with explicit themes, graphic sexual content, power dynamics, and mature situations. Proceed with caution. If you are sensitive to dark romance, revenge plots, or intense erotic scenes, this collection may not be suitable for you. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Blurb Sofia’s life shatters in a single click. The only man she ever trusted betrays her in the cruelest way possible — leaking her most intimate photos into the university group chat and auctioning the rest for money. Humiliated. Broken. Burning with rage. On her way to confront him, Sofia steps blindly into the highway — not caring whether she lives or dies. A black G-Wagon stops inches away from her. And the man who steps out isn’t just dangerous. He’s powerful. Tattooed. Cold. Untouchable. And he’s Tristan’s father. When his dark eyes lock onto hers, something shifts. The air thickens. His hand finds her waist. His voice drops to a husky warning. Sofia should walk away. Instead, she makes a decision that will change everything. If Tristan wants to ruin her life… She’ll ruin his from the inside. And what better weapon than the one man he fears? Don’t forget to drop your comments as you read — your feedback means everything.

My mate, Charalambos, was the heir to the Nightshade Pack. To take over as Alpha, he was sent to Noctis City, the capital city, for special training. When he left, my stepsister, Francesca, insisted on going with him. He refused at first, but she forced his hand, threatening a hunger strike until he gave in. Eventually, he allowed her to accompany him as his assistant. This went on for three years. Throughout those three years, our mate bond stayed strong. I never felt the slightest hint of betrayal. He constantly reassured me through our mind-link. "You're the only one for me." At some point, I started receiving photos anonymously. Francesca kissed him in the face, but he never refused. Once, Charalambos and I were on a video call in the dark, and I could hear Francesca’s breathless voice clearly while she whispered his name in the heat of it. Three years later, the day he returned to the pack, I saw her walking behind him. She had been with pup for five months, and there was a smug, victorious smile on her face. He looked at me apologetically. Guilt was written all over his face. "I'm sorry. I’ve only ever loved you. Once the pup comes, you can raise it." I was done. I had waited for three years. I made up my mind to reject him.

On our third wedding anniversary, I waited for Xander Christian for five hours at his favorite restaurant. Once again, he has disappeared. In the end, I found out where he went on the social media of his childhood sweetheart, Josie Law. He took her to Antartrica. [I just said I was in a bad mood, so he ditched the whole world just to cheer me up. Turns out, he cheers me up much more than the penguins.] In the photos, it was all icy and frosty, but he held her gently in his arms. I had never seen such blazing warmth in his eyes. Not once was it ever directed at me. At that moment, I was just tired. I was too tired to question. I was too tired to fight. I was too tired to cry. I simply liked the post and sent him a short message, [Let's get a divorce.] A long time later, he finally replied with a voice message, his tone was full of careless amusement, "Sure. I'll sign the papers when I'm back. We'll see who ends up begging me not to leave." Those who were loved and favored were often fearless. He didn't believe my words at all. Yet, Xander— No one was truly indispensable. People would only stay because they were in love. From this moment on, I no longer loved you.

Presley Brookmore was bullied by her older half-brother Odin and his two best friends Cruz and Anderson, all of her life. They made it their life mission to humiliate her at every turn. Was it her fault her father carried on an affair with her mother who got pregnant with her and wrecked Odin’s idyllic life? She didn’t think so but apparently, Odin and his cronies did, and so they bullied her at every turn. When an opportunity to get back at Odin’s best friend Cruz Hawley presents itself in a serendipitous moment, she doesn’t let it slip away. Taking full advantage of the fact as a billionaire, an attractive one at that, all eyes are on him and people are snapping photos and videos of the celebrity in the restaurant, she makes a scene straight out a daytime soap opera. Cruz Hawley returned to Vancouver with the intent to take his billion-dollar medical equipment company to the next level. When his childhood best friend’s younger sister pops out of the woodwork and not only destroys his chance at a connection with a client, but makes him a social media sensation, his businesses take the hit. Cruz is going to teach the troublemaker a lesson but it’s his heart on the line when he finds himself looking forward to every challenge she is presenting. It’s win, lose, or draw and as a former Olympian, there is no way he can lose. Let the game of hearts begin. Winner takes all.