Psychological Realism

My twin sister, Audrey Goodwin, was obsessed with romance novels about rich heirs. All she wanted was to marry into money and live like some perfect socialite. She set her sights on the silver-spoon scion in Jezelton, Michael Strickland, who'd been blind after a car accident. Audrey got close by becoming his private nurse. But she got tired of the work really quickly. So, she asked me to cover for her. When Michael finally got his eyesight back and held a huge celebration, Audrey decided to drug him so she could slide right into the role of Mrs. Strickland. I didn't stop her this time. I even went as far as booking her a luxury suite so she could carry out her plan. In my last life, I had begged Audrey not to go through with it. I told her romance novels weren't real life, and guys like Michael were way too powerful to mess with. She had actually listened and canceled the plan. But a little while later, the news broke: Michael secretly got married. It turned out that he'd been with someone else that very night. Just like that, Audrey's big fantasy was gone. She blamed me for ruining her "dream". My parents blamed me as well; they beat me and yelled at me, saying Audrey couldn't marry Michael now because of me. One night, Audrey snapped. She came into my room with a hammer and beat me to death. Now, I had been given another chance. I woke up right on the night of Michael's recovery party.

My nanny, Lucci Eyre, liked to call herself an independent, modern woman. She used to tell me every day to be self-reliant, do my own laundry and cooking, take care of the kids by myself, and even suggested that I divorce my husband. Later on, I found out that she was actually a social media influencer. Without asking for my permission, she made a series of videos trying to make me look pathetic as a Stepford wife. She also stole my jewelry and clothes. After I fired her, she accused me in the live stream of being a rival female competitor and pandering to men. Then one of her crazy fans tricked her way into my home and poisoned me. When I woke up again, I was reborn to the day I discovered that her social media account had millions of followers. ‘Since you're so into live streaming and making short videos, why not show everyone who you really are and let them see the independent woman that you are?’

We’re preparing to move into a new house, and when my husband’s best female friend found out, she decided to move in with us. I was about to object, but my husband immediately agreed. To make things worse, he even gave my daughter’s master bedroom, which was meant to be her children’s room, to her son and made our daughter move to the basement. When I voiced my disagreement, he dismissed it, saying, “Grace is my close friend; don’t overthink it. Her son is like my son; of course, I want him to have a better room.” When I still stood my ground, my husband and his family began criticizing me, calling me selfish. Unable to stand their unfairness, I moved out with my daughter. It was then they realized my absence and became anxious.

My twin sister died on her 18th birthday. She died of respiratory failure in a dark corner of a hotel after being raped. Her dearest friend, Joanne Lowe, whom she always cared for and supported, turned around and anonymously spread photos of my sister being raped. I then slowly ruined the face which had so badly wanted to replace my sister with a knife. With blood everywhere, I cradled Joanne's face as if it were a piece of art and said, "My beloved sister is gone, and you people who harmed her won't be let off so easily."

"Honey, the washing machine's making that buzzing sound again. Can you fix it please?" I got up from my desk and walked over. Just as I placed my hand on the washing machine, a wave of numbness surged through my body. My heart pounded wildly before I convulsed and collapsed on the floor. Just before everything went dark, I heard my wife on the phone. "He has collapsed. He should be dead by now." The power outlet continued to hiss and buzz, like the mocking laughter of a devil. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my wife asked me to fix the washing machine. I then decided to secretly follow her, only to discover she was posing as a topless model for her art teacher.

My brother Mitchell sided with his dream girl when she accused me of bullying her. Despite being the only family member I had left, he exploded in anger and sent me away to a boarding school for so-called reformation to learn how to become a meek and obedient little sister. In time, I became exactly what he wanted—a docile sibling who never fought back, never argued. But everything changed the day he saw my medical report. He lost his mind. "Nora, I'm begging you—forgive me and let me be your brother again!"

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

WARNING! Explicit Content: BDSM, Dark Themes, and Mature Erotica. Read at Your Own Risk! After her parents were brutally murdered, Aria was stolen away and groomed by a ruthless mafia lord-trained to be both a lethal assassin and a nymphomaniac sex doll. She has only one mission: revenge. She'll smile. She'll kneel. She'll obey. She'll play the perfect submissive... until the day she finds the man responsible for their deaths- and makes him bleed. But everything shatters when she finds herself defenseless in the arms of her enemy. No matter how much she fights, hates, or resists-he won't let her go. And worse... She's not allowed to die. She can scream. She can cry. Hell-she can even beg. But she will always be his. His to own. His to claim. His to break. This book is strictly 18+ and contains dark romance elements including: Non-consensual/Dubious consent scenes. Dangerous obsession. BDSM & psychological manipulation. Explicit sexual content If these themes disturb you, do not proceed. Otherwise, dive in... and enjoy this sinfully dark, spicy read.

Trigger Warning ⚠️ ‼️ This book contains explicit sexual content, feral dominance, psychological obsession, sadistic control, graphic violence, degradation, and a brutal breeding kink. For mature readers only. Read at your own risk…or give in to the madness. She was just coming off a night shift. Scrubs still on. Exhausted. Bone-deep tired from another fourteen hours in the ER. She wanted food. A hot shower. Silence. What she got was blood. And him. Isadora Bell, twenty..three, top of her med school class and two years into her residency, made one mistake..she took the alley behind the hospital after her shift to avoid the rain. There, under flickering streetlights and the shadow of a gun, she watched a man get executed at close range. And the monster holding the gun? Dominic. Valenzo Head of the Valenzo crime family. Cold. Untouchable. Ruthless. He kills without flinching and fucks like it’s war. No one sees him and lives. No one touches him and breathes. But something about her made him stop. She should’ve screamed. Begged. Run. She just stared. He saw it in her eyes..curiosity. Fear. Heat. So he made a decision. “You’re mine now, little doctor. And the only thing you’ll be saving… is your breath when I’m done with you.” Now she’s trapped in a world of blood, diamonds, and depravity. Torn between what’s right and the man who ruins her every time. Because Dominic doesn’t make love. He claims. He destroys. He fucks until you forget who you were. And every time she swears she’s done, He makes her beg. This isn’t a love story. This is obsession. This is power. This is the kind of dark you don’t come back from.

I was in the late stages of kidney failure, but my husband, Calvin Quayle, gave the kidney that was the best match for me to my younger sister, Louella Lassiter. The doctor urged me to wait for another donor, but I refused. I checked out of the hospital early. I had stopped caring long ago. What was even the point of fighting anymore? I transferred all the assets I'd accumulated over the years to Louella, finally pleasing Mom and Dad. I didn't even get mad when Calvin hovered over Louella like he was some kind of devoted nurse. Instead, I told him to take good care of her. And when my son, Nathan Quayle, said he wanted Louella to be his mom? I smiled and said yes. They got exactly what they wanted, so why were they suddenly regretting it now?