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It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

My family was supposed to be the richest of the land, yet I had to refund even a cheap delivery. Why? In my previous life, my housekeeper's daughter got her hands on a trading system. Every cent of money I spent would be hers. She started trying to guilt-trip me into donating to all the impoverished students in her school. It was charity anyway, so I signed a check worth 300 grand. The moment I did, that money became part of her savings, and the amount on my check was zero. Everyone called me names, called me a charlatan. Even the boy toy I spent good money on broke up with me. That girl used my money to donate to charities and became the kind and beautiful heiress. She told everyone I was the housekeeper's daughter instead. Furious, I grabbed my black card and started shopping like crazy. I wanted to prove I was the real heiress, but the balance in my account was cleared immediately. That girl then spent 1.2 million right away, like it was one dollar. She scoffed at me. "Don't try to act like you're rich when you're a broke loser. Your mother doesn't make enough as a housekeeper." The Internet decided to hunt me down. I could not handle the stress, and my mind broke. For some reason, my body withered away at a blistering rate. Before my father could save me, I drew my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to that fateful day. The day the housekeeper's daughter made me donate to the school.

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

Dangerous, sexy, and arrogant, badboy billionaire, Dominique Gray always gets his way; in the boardrooms and even in the bedroom. His arrogance is twice the size of his bank account and he walks like he owns the universe. Running away from her past and the life she’d hoped to forget, Robyn Denver fled from Italy to New York City, hoping to start afresh as a practical nurse in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the state. A new life, a new place, and a new identity. Everything is going as planned, not until Robyn crosses paths with Dominique Gray, one of the country’s most influential and powerful figures. He’s everything she’d vowed to stay away from, but yet she hates the fact that he brings out the woman in her she’d locked and long suppressed. He’s alluring, manipulative, domineering, all of everything she loathes, but yet she can’t resist the billionaire’s charms. Dominique wants the one thing he knows he can’t have, but yet he’s not willing to back down. Robyn Denver is everything challenging and feisty, and one thing Dominique Gray loves is challenge. After a heated and passionate one night together in a masked charity event, Robyn walks away with Dominique Gray craving for more. But what happens when Dominique Gray wants the one thing Robyn isn’t willing to give? Her heart. And when the past Robyn has been running away from disrupts her new life, will Robyn let her heart cherish the one best thing in her life or will her past keep them apart? *** CONTENT WARNING: This story is rated for a mature audience and includes explicit sexual content, sexual language and violence.

“Is this true?” I asked. I can’t believe of what I have read on the posts on the social media account of the two writers that I met, Sketch and Doodle. I read again the post of Sketch. I thought of something, not because there will be no update on his story but because of his post however I can’t remember where I read it before. Then, I read what Doodle had posted. I suddenly remember my story and I read the last scene that I wrote; same words, same scenarios and same comments like how I read their posts. I doubt quite a bit but really it amazed me which I don’t know why. That is why I read some of their last few posts and it was quite surreal which leads to a coincidental from the turn of events on what their real life is and on what I wrote. I won’t pay any attention to what is going on because I know it wouldn’t happen. It seems like my suspicion is true… the things that I’m writing is coming true when there are real people that’s involved on my story however I need to investigate this. Sketch wasn’t talking while driving, I can see on Doodle eyes how amazed he is while we travel, seeing a fine nature is really amazing while I seldom talk just to point where we have to move. I noticed Sketch glanced at me. I smiled. “I’m actually kidnapping both of you and you two are willing victim.” Sketch stepped on the breaks and it made a big screech of the car. “What?!” they both asked.

- I guess you are Kaya Caravigne? Kara raised her head and smiled... - Yes, that's me. She took the gloved hand offered to her by the young woman in front of her and when the latter took off her hat, the young woman almost fell over. She had in front of her a woman identical to her... Brown hair, blue eyes and white skin... - I am Princess Mirabelle and I have an offer for you... I am supposed to get married in three days with the Sultan of Castamar whom I don't like very much, unfortunately... You are my carbon copy so you will take my place in front of the hotel and be his wife for the next three months... Each month I will pay you a million on your account, after the three months... I will take over. Does that suit you? - Well, I... I'll... - You need the money Kaya and I don't want to marry this man... I think we can clearly do business...? 3 million... was not a sum she could let go and besides, she could realize her dream and have the life she wanted. As strange as this story sounded, she was going to accept... Agree to marry this Sultan... Much later, Kaya would discover that this Sultan was as beautiful as he was cold... - I don't know why you agreed to marry me but I assure you that you will regret it... But the young woman was going to prove to him that she was a worthy opponent and that she could be like him sometimes... - I already regret it Majesty... It's a pity that under this Appolon appearance is a black heart.

“Since this is also what we should talk about then we can do this now.” Liam brought out the divorce papers from the car with his signature on it. “Let’s end this, I will compensate you and explain things to Grandpa.” “I don’t need your compensation, I just need to know one thing, did you marry me just to get what you needed from Grandpa, was I a tool you used in the past and now you wish to get rid of me because I am no more needed? Tell me, Liam.” Gina asked in tears. “Gina, I don’t have much to say, yes you are right, Grandpa won’t will what was mine as the heir and he froze my account, you were vulnerable and I was desperate so I took the chances with you, to me, our marriage is just an agreement and I never told you I had feelings for you and that’s all since I am the one who breaks the condition, I know this will be an unfair situation for you so don’t worry about the compensation, grandpa will understand.” What kind of a man is Liam? Why didn't she believe the rumours years ago that he was a cold beast that doesn't have feelings for anyone, she slapped him hard on the face saying, “I hate you.” Gina signed the divorce paper and left him but after seven years she encountered her ex-husband, he was more possessive and wanted her back by all means and he was ready to get rid of any obstacle that would stop him from getting his ex-wife and his beautiful quintuplets back to his life but will Gina allow it?

18+ Warning!!! Listen, this book does not play nice. Expect explicit sexual content, bursts of violence, and enough emotional chaos to make your head spin. The characters? Oh, they'll frustrate you, make reckless choices, and probably leave you yelling at the page. Reader discretion is advised… but let's be real, you're still going to read it just to see what these beautiful messes do next. ★★★ He left her in the flames… never knowing she carried his child. Elowen Thorne was once a forgotten maid in Morvain Pack, until Alpha Alaric Veylor of Dravenmere Pack made her his mate-- but love turned to ashes when betrayal struck. Accused of a crime she didn't commit and replaced by her envious stepsister, Tazira, Elowen vanished... burned, broken, and pregnant. Five years later, she returns as the long-lost daughter of the noble Velmira Pack Queen, known for their healing ability. Her power was feared, and her heart locked away. Her only focus is to retrieve the Drezova Moon Relic to stop the Vampires and Witches before war consumes them all. But fate is cruel! To find the relic, she must work with three powerful Alphas. One is her ex-husband, Alpha Alaric, who betrayed her… another is Sylion, the mysterious guardian of the relic who once saved her life and wants her now… And the last is Alpha Drazien Veythar, the calculating political leader whose alliance she must secure, even if it costs her freedom. Claimed by the three Alphas, bound by duty, and fated only to the Alpha King-- her greatest battle will be choosing which heart survives the war.

He has made it crystal clear that I’m not to call him ‘boss’ except on certain occasions, like right now, when his dominating gaze carries a hint of playfulness. I can’t help but smile every time he gets like this, all lovey-dovey, but when he whispers in my ears asking me to go on an adventure with him, it is like an invitation to a forbidden feast and the thought sends a shiver down my spine which unlike you would think, is almost painful. Maybe this is because I have been on an adventure with him for as far as I want to recollect. My memories, if you peeked inside, would be overflowing with every moment with him, each one a brushstroke painted with his boldness and my, well, let’s call it a touch of recklessness. I now wear a souvenir, a mark etched onto my soul. It’s like a silent agreement, a reminder that our fates are tangled, intertwined like climbing vines. He’s the puppet master, my very own Mr. Strings, and every twist and turn of his whims gets woven into the fabric of my being. Maybe you find that hard to believe, like something out of a fairytale. But trust me, my darling, as I unravel the threads of our adventure, one by one, you’ll understand. With each turn and twist, you’ll find yourself hooked, a willing captive in the captivating narrative of our lives, possibly harnessed in the labyrinth of our love, where danger dances with delight, and fate is etched in the footprints of a love like no other. So buckle up, dear reader, for this isn’t a mere tale, it’s a thrill ride, a love song made of equal parts fear and freedom.