We Russian

Natalie West hadn't expected her life to take a drastic turn, the kind that sends her out of her husband's house into a cold night with a cruel divorce while having his unborn child in her belly and deep into the West's family house as the chosen heiress and wife to James West, the multi-billionaire. What happens when the lies she had known all her life are far better than the truth that actually exists? How does she handle a truth that turned her world upside down and sent it tumbling down brick by brick? And when her Ex-Husband comes chasing after her, confessing undying love, will she yield? Sometimes the lies we know are far better than the truth we are told. Well, we'd prefer it right?

We don't choose the parents we are born to, neither do we choose our mate. Moonstone city is home to multiple werewolf clans cohabitating in an odd mixture of traditional werewolf beliefs and modern lifestyle. Ada King is the daughter of one of the most powerful Alphas and has been educated in manners, politics and cold-blooded decision making fit for the "princess" of the city. Everyone expects a typical life of being mated to another Alpha and becoming an influential Luna; however, what is not typical is that Ada not only searches for her mate for months but also rejects him in a conference room full of witnesses, and with a signed contract. Damien Sevach, furious of losing his mate in such a way, requests an ultimatum of "Mates with Benefits". He wants to learn what motivated Ada and what hides behind her perfect façade.

Tall, dark, and gorgeous with cobalt-blue eyes. It doesn’t hurt that he’s the billionaire owner of the resort we’re staying at. And all of it is just what I needed for my celebration weekend after graduating with my master’s. It’s our last girls’ weekend before my friends and I go our separate ways, and it’s going to happen with a bang. Literally. Hopefully. It would be a first. The desire was to keep things casual, but our connection is far too deep for that. Him being ex-military and me being an Army brat. The rules we each set up are shattered thanks to the raging passion between us. But eventually, I have to go home. What I never expected in a million years was that he might follow me. Enough swimming in the shallow end of the pool. We’re diving in deep.

Beta Max and I were at the Civil Affairs Bureau, ready to register our marriage. We were just waiting to take the final photo when he got a phone call and left. He abandoned me right there at the marriage registration office, leaving me stuck in an impossible situation. I called him—no answer. I messaged him—no reply. In the end, I had no choice but to call his childhood sweetheart’s number. Beta Max answered. “Louis, can you stop being so annoying? Grace twisted her ankle—I need to take care of her today. Stop calling and waking her up. We’ll reschedule the registration.” I bit my lip and murmured into the phone, “This makes it the seventh time we’ve rescheduled.” “So what? The Civil Affairs Bureau isn’t going anywhere—it’s not like it’s going to disappear!” My face was blank, but it felt like my heart was being carved open. A staff member looked at me with pity and asked, “Alpha Louis, are we still doing this?” I gave a small nod. “Yes. Let’s go through with it.”

Whenever Rachel Cooper loses it, I know I'm about to get divorced again. I close my eyes. "We are divorcing for the ninth time." Marcus Miller massages his temples and says regretfully, "Vivian, Barry died all of a sudden, leaving his wife and her unborn baby behind. I can't ignore them. Relax. Once the baby's born, we'll remarry. We won't separate ever again!" I remain silent. I already heard this promise eight times before. Barry Miller's sudden death is the reason for Rachel's breakdown. It also caused Marcus and me to divorce for the first time. Back then, Rachel was already pregnant, prompting Marcus to divorce me. He will remarry me once he has comforted her. Over the past nine months, we have married and divorced eight times. Everyone mocks me by calling me the Eight-Ring Wonder. I also find it ridiculous. After I accept the divorce certificate, one of the court staff secretly asks me, "When are you getting married again?" I answer calmly, "There's no next time."

My Forbidden Husband I kissed my father’s best friend. It was reckless. Disastrous. And worst of all—he hated it. Damien Luca is eighteen years older, untouchable, and every kind of wrong for me. A man carved from power, wealth, and sin—the kind of man who owns half the world and intimidates the rest of it. I told myself I’d let him go. That the crush, the obsession, the pull between us was over. But fate laughs at me—because now, I’m his wife. A marriage neither of us wanted. A vow neither of us can escape. And a fire we’re both trying—and failing—to resist. He’s forbidden. I’m off-limits. But we can’t stop reaching for the one thing we’re not supposed to touch.

I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to graduate top of my class, get into the best law firm, and make my brother proud. What I’m not here for? Sharing an apartment with Cade freaking West. My brother’s best friend. Tattooed, cocky, insufferable. A walking red flag on skates with a motorcycle named Roxie and a different girl in his bed every night. We don’t get along. We never have—especially not after what happened. He hates me for it. I don’t regret it. I was right. But the longer we’re forced to live under the same roof, the harder it gets to ignore the heat. The tension. The way he looks at me like he’s two seconds from ruining my entire life.

“Why does he always look so dirty?” Amara says making a face. I turn and look in the direction she’s facing and my heart beats faster. Leo is walking across the school parking lot to the school entrance. Leo has his down, he is a pair of jeans that are weathered. He paired it with a long white T-shirt and hoodie. I don’t see any dirt on him but maybe Amara has extra-ray vision. Maybe she can see something we don’t. “He doesn’t look dirty” Gea says and giggles. I want to say exactly but I don’t, whenever we talk about boys it always ends up in a fight. And I don’t want to fight today, we have tests today and I need good vibes only.

The train to Centraford was about to depart. That was the ride we'd spent our entire life savings—30 thousand bucks—to get a ticket for. I was gripping my mate, Byron Reynolds's, hand tightly, trying to pull him onto the last train to Centraford. This was the chance I'd waited three long years for. Once we entered Centraford, we could rise from being low-tier civilian werewolves to official Silvren Talons workers—registered, salaried, and numbered. If we missed this train, we'd be stuck forever in Sidersville, a chaotic melting pot, never able to enter the heart of the werewolf city-state. But Byron held us back, refusing to leave without Lisa Peters, who was still down by the river, washing her face. In the very last second before the train took off, I had our friends forcibly drag Byron aboard. We made it to Centraford and became Silvren Talons workers. But Lisa missed her chance. She was left behind in Sidersville and became a rogue, a plaything passed around by countless men. A few years later, she was tortured to death. Byron looked fine on the surface. But on the day of our marking ceremony, he drove a silver blade into my stomach, killing the pup growing inside me, and tore out my heart. His eyes burned red as he growled through clenched teeth, "This is all your fault. You're the reason Lisa never made it to Centraford. "She suffered so much before she died. Why do you get to be happy?" After killing me, he chopped my body up and fed it to the stray dogs. Then I opened my eyes—and found myself right back at the train station, before it departed. This time, I'd wait with him for the woman he loved so much. And I'd make him pay for everything he did to me and my pup.

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him