Who Is The Death God

Damian Cross had everything — a thriving company, a respected name, and a carefully built image of control. But one reckless night shattered it all. He only wanted to escape the loneliness that came with success... until he met her. She was supposed to be a stranger he’d forget by morning. Instead, she became the hatchet he couldn’t bury. Years later, fate brings her back. Damian tries to walk away, but every step pulls him closer to that night. Against logic, against reason, against the odds — he does the one thing he swore he wouldn’t. Just when everything feels perfect, a single truth cuts deeper than a blade. She disappears without a word, leaving him broken all over again. Damian swears he’s done, but destiny isn’t done with them. When he finds her again, haunted by the past, he faces one question: What if the only way to save her… is to lose himself?

Aria Blackstone spent three years praying for a miracle. The day she finally saw two red lines, she thought her life was complete. Instead, it ended. Dragged out of her husband’s mansion. Accused of trying to kill another woman’s child. Humiliated. Thrown away like nothing. And on a cold, lonely roadside… Aria lost the baby she had begged the universe for. Her husband never looked back. But someone else did. Aiden Blackstone... Gabriel’s estranged and untouchable billionaire stepbrother. A man who should have hated her. A man she barely noticed standing in the shadows of her broken marriage. A man who carried her bleeding body into his hospital… and into a world she never knew she deserved. With nowhere left to go, Aria must rebuild her shattered life inside Aiden’s mansion, unaware she is stepping straight into the heart of a man who has silently watched her fall apart for years. Gabriel wants her back. Aiden wants her safe. And Aria must choose between the billionaire who destroyed her… and the billionaire who saved her.

Evan Moore is the perfect husband in everyone's eyes. He gives me a grand wedding and fully supports my career dreams. When I faced a difficult labor, he stayed by my side, kneeling for a full day and night until he nearly passed out from exhaustion. Afterward, he held me in his arms, sobbing until his eyes were red and swollen, his voice trembling with fear. "Honey, let’s not have any more kids… It's just too much." From then on, he spends his days and nights at the monastery, praying devoutly for me and our son, earning the title of the city’s most pious CEO. But one day, by pure chance, I glimpse the handwritten scriptures he keeps so carefully copied. And that's when I realize every word, every stroke, is a confession of his undying love… for his first love. All his tenderness, all his care—it was never truly for me. It was learned for her. I was nothing more than practice—a stand-in for his so-called true love.

What is obsession? Am I obsessed? At first, I was just his substitute, then I became his real bride, then the supposed real bride returned, and I was kidnapped, tortured, and forced to divorce. Then I committed suicide because I couldn’t handle it, but I didn’t fucking die. Then I became a stalker of my ex-husband, who barely remembers me because I was declared dead by the world, and my face got melted down when acid was poured on me. I had a surgery that changed my whole face and my entire identity. Then I started working for him again and he fell in love with the new me, yet still traumatized by the old me, so I had to reveal to him that I was the same person. He was happy and relieved, but the world wasn’t. We were chewed on, spat out, and stepped on. Then he was fired from his company by his grandmother, who adopted a new son to take over the company. Then I was kidnapped again, and bombs were planted on me. We were able to defuse the bomb and escape. Then we were shot in the head by God knows who. His surgery was successful, but mine wasn’t, so I forgot everything about him and was forbidden to remember because a damn bullet is stuck in my head that could kill me if it moves to a sensitive part of my brain. Then suddenly, he was on the TV, framed for murder. I couldn’t hold back, I found myself in prison fighting for him with a gun in my hand, and somehow ended up in a coma, because the damn bullet in my head shifted… to the wrong direction. Then, in between this chaos, the doctor announced I-was-pregnant.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my chest as the three of them surrounded me, their eyes burning with an intense fire. 'You're ours, Soraya,' one of them growled, his voice low and husky. 'And we're going to claim you, no matter what it takes.' I tried to resist, but my body betrayed me. My heart raced, my pulse pounding in my veins. One of them grasped my waist, pulling me close. His lips crashed down on mine, a fierce and possessive kiss that left me breathless. Another took over, his kiss soft and gentle, but no less intense. Another had his lips trailing down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. And finally, there was the last, his kiss fierce and passionate, leaving me gasping for air. I hated them, I loved them, I wanted them. The conflicting emotions swirled inside me like a storm. I knew this wouldn't last as I could only be with one of them eventually but in that moment, all I could do was surrender to the forbidden passion that consumed us all. Framed for a crime she didn't commit, Soraya is reduced to an omega and forced to navigate a danger filled werewolf pack. But when she starts school at the werewolf academy, she's determined to clear her name and regain her strength. As she delves deeper into the truth, she finds herself torn between the triplet heirs- three powerful and seductive werewolves who are determined to claim her as their own. But can she trust them, or will they destroy her like they destroyed her past? When she has to make a choice, who will she chose?

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

When songwriting major Anya Scott goes to a prestigious college, she believes her unfortunate fate will forever change its course. Her supportive boyfriend lavishes her with attention, and she receives financial assistance from a mysterious benefactor. Despite her traumatic past, she’s doing better than she ever imagined and is on the cusp of achieving her goals. Until she’s not. She encounters a man who is brilliant, rich, and obviously unobtainable. Julian Sebastian—a renowned Hollywood composer and her new professor. Anya soon realizes she has stronger feelings for him and tries to suppress them for all the right reasons. Julian, too, is captivated by Anya's wit, beauty, and resolve. A forbidden, passionate affair awaits them. It’s a wrong and dangerous ride, but it feels so right that she wants to explore her own desires. Just one . Only one touch. They are all it will take to cross the line.

I'm the true heir to an affluent family who got switched at birth. But when I'm reunited with my family, they suddenly announce their bankruptcy. The sprawling mansion is repossessed, leaving me, my wife, and my parents to sleep on the streets. My parents are so furious that they end up getting admitted to the hospital—one gets a stroke, and the other passes away. My wife gets her legs broken by one of the creditors, and my son is so frightened that he becomes mentally impaired. To bear the astronomical medical bill, I work countless part-time jobs and put myself through the wringer. Everything changes when, one day, I accept a job as a temporary driver. I go to a lavish hotel's banquet hall. A celebration for a gold wedding is being held there, and I see my late mother and paralyzed father sharing a kiss onstage. My crippled wife is dancing offstage as she enjoys the festivities. Meanwhile, my son speaks fluently in a foreign language as he speaks with a foreign child.

"Did you really kiss the Alpha?" Gary asked me and turned to the man bathing in the darkness. "Is she the one you were telling me about?” "Yes," he coldly said and turned around, walking away. "Please," I begged, crying. "Alpha Asher, please. I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to, please forgive me.” I begged, crying profusely and Gary looked at me, pity flickering in his eyes. "Please, Alpha. Let's help her. She could be useful to you one day,” he suggested and Alpha Asher stopped in his tracks. I almost shot Gary a dirty glare. What did he mean by useful? I didn't leave my pack to come here and serve another fucking Alpha! The Alpha I kissed at that! I was about to ask what he meant by useful but the pain in my leg reminded me of what was at stake. To serve him for a while and then be free, or to die and not be able to do anything again. "Useful?” Alpha Asher asked, breaking my thoughts. "Yes, yes. I'll do whatever you want. Just help me, please. I don't want to die." I begged. "Anything I want?” he asked again, smirking. ”What could this man be thinking of that's making him smirk?” I mumbled to myself, trying to distract myself from his attractive lips. ”Answer me, woman. Would you do anything I want?”