Novela Cafe Social Reviews Novels & Stories

Ten years of devotion. Two years of a hollow marriage. One night to break it all. Lanka Monroe was a stray, a broken pup rescued from the dirt and raised within the cold, prestigious walls of the Wolfe Crest Estate. For a decade, he worshipped the man who saved him—Andrew Wolfe, the lethal, untouchable Alpha of the North. But the hero of Lanka’s youth became the tyrant of his adulthood. To the pack, Lanka is the seductive social climber who drugged the Alpha to secure a mating bond. To Andrew, Lanka is a stain on his reputation, a burden to be endured until his "true" match returns. When Andrew’s old flame, Serena, reappears to reclaim her throne, the fragile peace shatters. Lanka is tired of being the ghost in the hallways. He’s ready to tear the ancestral earrings from his flesh and walk out of the estate with his pride intact. But as he hands over the divorce papers, a dark secret in the Wolfe bloodline comes to light. Andrew doesn’t just want a mate anymore—he needs a donor. And suddenly, the Alpha who wouldn't touch Lanka is the one pinning him to the bed, demanding the very pup he once forbade. In a world of ancient pack laws and silver-tongued lies, Lanka must decide: Will he remain a sacrificial lamb for the Wolfe family, or will he let the bond burn to ashes to find his own freedom?

What if the one who broke you… was destined to love you? “Appearances are deceptive. So are fates.” Eighteen-year-old Ryder Stone is no ordinary were-vamp—he’s the dangerously powerful, heartbreakingly handsome Alpha heir of the renowned Stone sextuplets. But when Ryder insists on blending in by attending a human university far from home, he and his best friend Chester are forced to mask their true forms with suppressants… leaving them mocked, humiliated, and branded as outcasts by their classmates. At the bottom of the social ladder, bullied and bruised, Ryder's world is shattered—until fate deals its cruelest card yet. His fated mate? The ruthless Alpha of the Dark Moon Pack. The very girl who made his life a living nightmare. Can she see past the disguise and the damage to the soul that hides beneath? Can a bully truly become a lover? But just as Ryder’s heart begins to war with his pride, darkness creeps closer. The return of Zang, a warlord wielding forbidden dark magic, threatens to engulf every pack in blood and ruin. Can Ryder embrace his destiny and unleash the storm within before everything—and everyone—he loves is lost? When love is written in the stars, even hatred can't unwrite it. But will she love him… once she knows who he truly is?

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

On my wedding night, I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance after a tampered condom left me in excruciating pain. The surgery took over twenty-four hours, and the story spread like wildfire. My husband, Alexander, let it be known that anyone who managed to photograph me in my post-surgery state would be rewarded with ten million dollars. Overnight, I went from being a billionaire's new wife to the laughingstock of every elite circle in New York. The next day, Alexander's childhood sweetheart Dahlia showed up at my door. That was when I learned the truth: she'd coated the condom with industrial-strength adhesive as part of what she called a "social experiment." She didn't show a shred of remorse. Her tone was flippant and cruel: "It was just an experiment. I mean, how was I supposed to know you'd react like that? Besides, we both know you were never good enough for Alexander. So drop the act." Alexander stood beside her, his gaze cold and dismissive: "If it weren't for the marriage contract, no one would've touched you. You know that, right?" What he didn't know was that the woman he was calling a slut had saved his life more times than he could count.

The day my mother brought her childhood sweetheart back to the villa, my father—who had already quit smoking—stood on the balcony and smoked through the entire night. Back then, his colleagues at the research institute all envied him for having a wife who was a CEO. They said he should have stayed home and enjoyed life—why work so hard outside when all he needed to do was keep a firm grip on the household finances? But my father never agreed. "Those things are all external," he would say. "As long as the feelings are still there, we'll be fine whether we're rich or poor. And if one day she no longer loves me, I'll leave with nothing and walk away alone." He never expected his words to become prophecy. My mother truly did stop loving him. Later, when she appeared before the media, arm in arm with that man, my father didn't look back. He boarded a flight overseas and disappeared from our lives. And as I stared at the photo in my social feed—my fiancée's hand entwined with someone else's—I knew it was time for me to leave too, just like my father had.

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

In the high-stakes world of Thorne Global, Julian Thorne is a man who calculates every move, valuing cold efficiency over the unpredictability of human emotion. But one night at a high-society masquerade ball, his world is upended by a magnetic encounter with a woman in a silver mask. Elena Vance, posing as her twin sister Layla to settle a family debt, never intended for their anonymous connection to become anything more than a single, electric memory. The illusion shatters two months later when Elena discovers she is pregnant. Before she can find a way to tell the mystery man from the ball, Julian finds her. He believes she is Layla—the social climber he once despised—and is stunned by the "new," grounded woman standing before him. When the truth of the pregnancy comes to light, Julian demands a contractual cohabitation to protect his legacy, unaware that the woman he is falling for is living under a stolen identity. As the pregnancy progresses, the ice around Julian’s heart begins to melt, but the web of lies Elena has spun grows increasingly fragile. Between a blackmailing debt collector, a vengeful twin sister, and corporate rivals looking for any sign of weakness, the stakes have never been higher. When Elena finally confesses her true identity, the fallout is catastrophic, forcing them both to decide if their connection was built on a lie or something far more enduring.

Someone had sprinkled some corrosive acid powder all over my wedding dress, the one worth over a hundred million. The moment I put it on, my flesh began to burn and dissolve. Blood and yellowish fluid pooled around me as a result. When I tried to call for an ambulance, someone’s mother held me down. She smiled cruelly and said, “You dare steal my daughter’s wedding dress? Go to hell!” However, my husband had ordered the dress from a top designer. It was one of a kind! I struggled with all my strength and shouted at her, “Do you know who I am? How dare you touch me?!” Her daughter, Yelena Stone, then grabbed a knife and stabbed me hard in my pregnant belly. She sneered and said, “You stole my man, but you have the audacity to yell at me? Fine. I’ll just spend a little more to end your worthless life.” My worthless life? I laughed. My hands were stained with blood as I called my brother, Hunter Sinclair, an elite in Jinvell’s social circles. “Hunter! Someone’s trying to kill me! And tell Jacob to get here now!”

A week before summer break, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart threw a fit, insisting on going to Tanond to watch a strip show. She even convinced our entire class to go with them. I kept warning them that it was not safe, that it could be some kind of new scam, and begged them not to go. When they refused to listen, I secretly reported it to the police. On the day of their departure, the police stopped them right at customs. A few days later, a male stripper suddenly went viral overnight. When she found out about it, she got so furious her eyes turned red. “It’s all Zoey’s fault! If it weren’t for her, we could’ve seen an international superstar's strip show!” On the first day we went back to school, they drugged me and made ten men teach me how to dance. “Didn’t you stop us from watching a strip show? Then you can perform one for us yourself.” The next day, my photos of strip show were all over social media. After that, I jumped off a building out of despair. When I opened my eyes again, it was once again the day his little sweetheart demanded that trip to Tanond.