When She Was Exiled To Black Tower

At the age of twelve, he lost his parents, and the only person left to care for him was cruel. He was given so many lashes that he feared his life was over. Iris found him one day when he was barely alive and took him in. And then he left her without saying goodbye. Salvatore Salcedo returns to the Philippines 20 years after his father's murder to get revenge. He need only kill Iris and deliver her severed head to Octavio Ocampo, Iris's father and the man he holds responsible for his own father's death. It was the perfect plan until Salvatore fell for her.

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

My sister accompanies me when I go for my premarital medical checkup. When I'm preparing a urine test, I hear embarrassing sounds coming from the cubicle next door. I'm about to leave when I hear the conversation. "Keep it in you, Willow. We're doing this again if it slips out." The voice belongs to my fiancé, Zachary Hilton. The woman to whom he's speaking is Willow Langley, my sister. I dial his number hysterically to see whether it really is him, but my calls go unanswered. All I hear is the incessant ringing of a phone next door and moans alongside it. I'm rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything. Zachary once vowed to love me for life, yet he's doing something like this with Willow prior to our wedding. The moans and pants next door take a long time to subside. Once I hear them leave, I call home, my face wet with tears. "Mom, change my husband-to-be to Thomas Hilton, Zachary's youngest uncle. I don't want to have anything to do with Zachary anymore."

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.

Back when I was 20, I supported a girlfriend. I paid for her education and even found the best doctors for her mother, who had cancer. The sweet, brilliant girl stayed with me for four years. However, my family went bankrupt after my parents died. I even injured my eyes and broke my legs. I watched her have a heart-to-heart talk with her childhood friend, tears in her eyes. I left without a word, and she never sought me out. Years later, I saw her again while picking up trash outside a hotel. She had become a wealthy CEO and was about to marry her childhood sweetheart. Her gaze at me was cold and indifferent. I bitterly asked, "Do you still hate me?" Yet, with tears streaming down her face, she replied, "Yes… I wish you were dead."

He’s the world’s most elusive billionaire. She’s the shattered woman who swears she was once his fiancée. When Lyra sees Caspian Clearance’s face on the cover of Forbes magazine, the world stops, because that’s Mason, the man who promised her forever and disappeared without a trace but Caspian insists he’s never met her. He has no memory of her… or the life they supposedly shared. How can a man forget the love of his life? Haunted by her pain and driven by a storm of unanswered questions, Caspian digs into the mystery, only to uncover a chilling truth: before he was Caspian, he was Mason… a poor man who vanished after a tragic accident but Mason didn’t die. His body is in a coma. Caspian is his soul in a second chance at life, one with power, wealth, and no memory of a broken-hearted fiancée. Now Caspian stands at a brutal crossroads: Return to the woman who claims his heart belongs to her… Or stay in the life that made him untouchable. Love or legacy. Past or power. The truth could destroy them both and remembering… might be the biggest risk of all.

It was the rumored Sebastian Black I was finally getting married. But he didn’t even come on the wedding day. I was standing at the altar without a man. The man I was getting married to was rumored to be impotent and cold. He hated women and also maltreats them. Most people called him Mr. D Dark instead of Black. Why was I marrying him? I didn’t care to what he would do to me or if he would kill me afterwards. All I wanted was to keep mother alive and see her well again. * * “You didn’t come to the wedding.” Isabelle stated as Sebastian slowly unbuckled his shirts. “Why? Why did you do that?” Isabelle yelled and that amazed him. No woman had dared raised a voice at him. What made this woman special? He stopped his hands at a bottom he was trying to get off. His eyes turning at Isabelle, coldly. She didn’t even flinch. P.E.R.F.E.C.T he said in his head. He had always wanted someone who would challenge him and even question his decisions And 'that' he had found in this woman. “I like you,” he said advancing closer to her. “What can I do to make you forgive me.”

Aurora Lewis hid away her feelings for Rowan Keller when she had to marry him for business' sake. But after two years and watching him go through half a dozen girlfriends and disrespect their marriage, she decides to call it quits. But Rowan can't let that happen and now he has to play his cards to keep his marriage and business shares intact.

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.

Eight years into marriage, and Fabian's mom finally gave me and my son her stamp of approval. Invited us to spend Christmas in his hometown. My son—Luca--and I were hyped. We picked out a gift for her and hit the road with Fabian. Right as we pulled into the village, Fabian's old friend called—crying, claiming she'd crashed her car. Fabian panicked. Left me and Luca in some random snowy mountain town and sped off. It was pitch black. Snow dumping down. Then Luca screamed. He'd stepped on a trap and dropped into a pit. Blood everywhere. I called Fabian, totally panicked. He goes, "Stella, Roxana's in a wreck. I need to be with her. Stop making everything a competition." Then he hung up. Blocked me. No time to fall apart. I wiped my face, called an ambulance. Too far out. By the time they got there, Luca was already gone. Cold. Broken. Gone. I held him and screamed until my lungs gave out. Meanwhile, Roxana's posting in the social media. All smiles in Fabian's arms. His face soft. Loving. [Highway jam turned into truth or dare. One word—"accident"—and he came flying. So happy.] I exhaled. Tagged Fabian. [Let's get a divorce.] This joke of a marriage should've ended forever ago.