LARA MORRISON

For years, I endured my husband Kellan's disdain, while he bent over backwards to please my scheming younger sister. When a sudden aneurysm required emergency life-saving surgery, I called him from the ER in absolute despair. He was busy celebrating my sister's new job. After listening to the lies she whispered about me in the background, he actually cursed at me. "If you're going to put on this act, don't bother coming home." He hung up the phone. I signed the surgery consent form alone, facing life and death all by myself. On the operating table, I hemorrhaged heavily. Not only did I lose my health, but I also lost the unborn little life I hadn't even had the chance to tell him about. Lying in the recovery room, I finally understood. His vows were nothing but empty lies, and I was always the expendable one in that relationship. And so, I signed the divorce papers and vanished from his life completely. Yet, he started looking for me like a madman, even taking revenge on everyone who had ever hurt me!

For two years, my world was circumscribed by the biometric lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband, Vincenzo, the most feared Underboss of the Cosa Nostra. But when he finally returned from a brutal three-week smuggling route, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-lover Camilla flaunted the flawless pearl necklace he had just bought her. He abandoned me with a bleeding hand to rush to her side, ignored my severe medical emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at a Syndicate banquet by seating her in my rightful place at the head of the table. Camilla cornered me in the powder room, her fragile victim facade dropping instantly as she smirked at my reflection. "The thing a powerful man fears most isn't a wife who screams. It's a useless one who refuses to bow out gracefully." I endured his blatant disrespect and broken Omertà, wondering why my unwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of a woman who was actively leaking his classified safehouse coordinates. I didn't understand why he treated his sacred vows like garbage, eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong hero while leaving me to face cartel death threats entirely alone. But I was done being the neglected mafia wife waiting in the shadows. I calmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden inside my designer clutch. It was time to present this irrefutable evidence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my husband of his title, and build my own empire.

Madeline slammed the prenuptial agreement onto the table, forcing Danielle to sign herself away as a "blood bag" bride. To secure her mother's safety, Danielle was sold to the ruthless, comatose billionaire Deforest Stuart. She kept her head down, perfectly playing the role of a terrified, broken mute. But on her wedding night, Deforest's sister set a vicious trap, dragging Danielle to a hotel to be ruined by a sleazy investor. Danielle was prepared to escape, but the hotel door was suddenly smashed open by a massive figure. It wasn't the investor. It was her comatose husband, Deforest, temporarily awakened by a violent, drug-induced rage. In the pitch-black room, he pinned her down, mistaking her scent for a ghost from his past, and violently claimed her. She fled before dawn, only to be blinded by camera flashes. His sister dragged her back to the Stuart manor, ripping her collar open under the chandelier to expose the dark hickeys on her neck. "Throw this shameless whore out into the street!" the matriarch ordered. Danielle's eyes grew cold. If they kicked her out now, her years of planning to tear this rotten family apart would be completely destroyed. No one believed that the monster who assaulted her was the very man lying perfectly still in the medical wing. Playing the frantic mute, Danielle dragged the family to his bedroom. Right as the guards reached for her, she launched herself onto the bed, crushing her weight directly onto Deforest's chest. A second later, the "comatose" tyrant's eyes snapped open with murderous rage, and her real game of revenge finally began.

I was the fated mate of Ryker Blackwood, the future Alpha, but my lack of an awakened wolf made me a pathetic joke to his pack. Instead of protecting me, he publicly rejected me, chose the manipulative Lilith Vane as his Luna, and locked me in a freezing dungeon. While the entire pack cheered for their final mating ceremony above, I rotted in heavy chains below. When a rogue attack killed our unborn pups, I reached out to him in agony, but his voice through our fading bond was like splintered ice. "Our pups are dead. Don't bother me again." He didn't care at all. The casual dismissal shattered my inner wolf, and I died in that filthy cell, suffocating on my own despair and a hatred so potent it burned through my last breath. Until my last moment, I couldn't understand why my absolute devotion was met with such cruel betrayal, and why my fated mate let our children die without a second thought. Opening my eyes again, I wasn't in the dungeon. I was back in my seventeenth year, choking on the icy water of the lake Lilith had just pushed me into. Seeing Ryker's arrogant sneer and Lilith's fake concern on the shore, I didn't cry or beg for his attention like I did in my past life. This time, I would publicly sever our sacred bond, awaken my true Alpha bloodline, and make them pay for every drop of my blood.

I stood in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, waiting to seal the merger of the century between the Singleton and English families. Everything was perfect, fragile, and obscenely expensive. But minutes before the ceremony, my brother burst into the bridal suite looking like he’d seen a ghost. He handed me a crumpled note from Jeffery, the man I was supposed to marry. "I can’t do it," the note read. "I’m choosing love." Jeffery had fled to Paris with another woman, leaving me to face two thousand guests and a family legacy that would plummet forty percent by Monday morning. Harrison Singleton, the family patriarch, didn't offer sympathy; he offered a cold ultimatum. The wedding would happen, with or without Jeffery. He stepped aside to reveal Declan Singleton, the "Wolf of Wall Street" who had spent the last year ruthlessly stripping my father’s companies for parts. To save my family from bankruptcy, I had to walk down the aisle and marry the man I hated most. At the altar, Declan didn’t just say "I do"; he claimed me with a kiss so possessive it felt like a sentencing. The humiliation was physical, a knife twisting in my gut as the world watched the "hostile takeover" of my life. I was a spoil of war, traded to a predator who believed in leverage over love. Then, Jeffery called, weeping about his mistake and begging to come back. I looked at the massive, perfectly-sized diamond Declan had already prepared for me and realized this wasn't a coincidence. I wiped away my tears and straightened my emerald silk. If I had to live in a cage, I was going to make sure I had the sharpest teeth. "Let's go to war," I whispered to my new husband.

I was bleeding out in the dark, bound to a chair, when I heard my husband tell another woman he would burn the world down for her. Dante Moretti didn't know I was on the other side of the paper-thin wall. He didn't know that ten years ago, I was the girl who saved his life in a frozen cave, not his mistress, Sofia. Sofia had stolen my story, and now she was stealing my life. When I tried to leave him, Dante chained me in his dungeon and whipped me until I passed out, claiming he was "disciplining" his wife. When Sofia used steel cello strings to slice my fingers open, destroying my ability to ever play again, he looked the other way. He even chose to save her over me when we fell into the freezing ocean, leaving me to drown because "Sofia is my soul." That night, I finally stopped fighting for a man who didn't exist. I called my brother, the Don of New York. "The alliance is over," I whispered into the phone. "Take me home." It took Dante three months to uncover the truth. To see the medical records proving I was the one who dragged him from that cave. He burned his own boat to trap us on an island, begging for a second chance. "I can fix this," he pleaded, tears streaming down his face as he touched my scarred, ruined hands. I looked at him, then at the man standing behind him with a rifle—the man who actually loved me. "You can't fix a shattered vase, Dante," I said. Then I watched my new protector pull the trigger.

For fifteen years, I buried my dream of motherhood because my husband, Bennett, swore he carried a tragic genetic defect. "If we have children, they will suffer," he had cried on our bathroom floor. I believed him. I made him my religion. But at a charity gala, everything shattered. He introduced his twenty-two-year-old mistress as his "little sister," only to announce moments later that she was pregnant with his heir. He never had a genetic defect. He just didn't want a child with me. The humiliation didn't stop there. He moved her into our home. He took my grandmother’s emerald necklace, reset the stone, and fastened it around her neck in front of our friends. When I tried to leave quietly, he sneered that I was jealous and toxic. He was confident he could break me, planning to manipulate me into eventually helping raise his mistress's baby. He didn't know two things. First, his mistress was faking the pregnancy to trap him. Second, I wasn't going to stay to watch the fallout. While he rushed her to the hospital for a staged emergency, blaming me for her "pain," I quietly boarded a private jet to Paris. I deleted my number. I destroyed my SIM card. I reclaimed my maiden name. By the time Bennett realized his "heir" was a lie and his wife was gone, I was already starting a new life where he didn't exist.

My phone buzzed on the counter of the vet clinic, a harsh sound, demanding my attention from a complicated case. It was Mark, my husband, sharp and impatient. "Chloe, drop whatever you' re doing. I need you." He needed his backup drive, for the biggest night of his career, a speech about 'sacrifice' and 'unwavering support', to impress his investors. I, his vet-tech wife, was racing home to fetch it, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. When I arrived, he was radiant on stage, spouting platitudes about family while I clutched the hard drive in the shadows, my stomach twisting. My phone vibrated: Dr. Reed, our son Leo' s specialist. "Chloe, the new treatment protocol is our best option, but we need to start immediately. The hospital requires a significant deposit." It was an unimaginable sum. I looked through the glass at Mark, laughing with investors, the hard drive forgotten. Leo and I were not in his world. In that moment, something inside me shifted. The long, slow burn of resentment ignited into cold, clear purpose. I wasn't going to wait for him. I wasn't going to ask him. I drove directly to sell my father' s classic Mustang – my most prized possession – for the cash. Returning home, a bright orange notice was slapped on our front door: NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE. My key wouldn' t work. My credit card was declined. I called Mark, his voice laced with fury. "Where the hell did you go? You embarrassed me, Chloe!" "The house, Mark," I whispered, trembling. "There' s a foreclosure notice. My keys don' t work." "I mortgaged it. Months ago. The startup needed a cash infusion," he sneered. "It' s gone, Chloe. My last-ditch funding failed because I was too damn distracted by all this drama with Leo. Your drama." Rain plastering my hair to my face, I sank to my knees. "We' re done," he said. "I told the bank to change the locks. You can get your things tomorrow." He hung up. Just then, Leo, pale and frail, opened the door. "Mommy? Why is Daddy yelling? Are we leaving our house?" His simple words cut through my shock. I pulled him close, whispering, "What if it was just you and me from now on? A new life. Would that be okay?" He nodded, trusting. That was all I needed.

My life as the "Montana Wildcat" was all about rebellion against the stuffy East Coast elite. But when an old blackmail threat jeopardized my Senator father's career, I was forced into a desperate solution: a fake engagement to Sterling Prescott IV, the blue-blood heir who personified everything I ran from. My plan was simple: unleash enough chaos to scare off the Prescotts and annul the whole charade. Instead, his formidable grandmother imprisoned me in their lavish estate for a forced "refinement," and strangely, Sterling became my unexpected confidante and ally, stealing midnight burgers and listening to my wild tales. Just as our fake relationship started feeling disturbingly real, my world shattered. Suddenly, the FBI stormed our home, planting fake evidence on my laptop that implicated my father in a national security scandal, destroying his career overnight. The final blow came with paparazzi photos showing Sterling, seemingly abandoning me, arm-in-arm with Blair Vanderbilt, the daughter of my father' s bitter rival. The man I'd grudgingly begun to trust, who had broken through all my walls, had seemingly betrayed me when I needed him most, leaving me heartbroken and politically ruined, a pariah. Then, at my father's televised Senate hearing, where his career was moments from collapse, Sterling walked in. He carried a briefcase and a recording that would not only clear my father's name but expose the true architect of our downfall, turning everything I thought I knew on its head.

My eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through familiar curtains in what was undeniably my childhood bedroom on a military base. But a stark, chilling truth hit me: I died. I vividly remembered fire, twisted metal, and then a profound, cold darkness. My father, General Miller, walked in, his voice deep and reassuring. "Sarah, you're awake. We need to talk about your future." He began to speak of Captain Mark Olsen, the perfect, ambitious officer everyone expected me to choose. The name was a bitter taste. Because in my first life, I married Mark. Then came the devastating news: killed in action. The grief consumed me. I stopped living, leading to my own tragic car accident months later. My world ended. But it wasn't true. As a lingering spirit, I watched my world shatter while his continued. Mark, alive and vibrant, laughing with Tiffany Evans, his arm around her. They had faked his death, eloped, and built a long, happy life together, completely discarding the woman who died for him. The rage, the profound betrayal, morphed from a cold fire to a precise, icy shard in my chest. Why did I endure such suffering, such a cruel end, while they basked in their deceitful bliss? The injustice was unbearable. But this was it. My second chance. A precious, impossible gift. This time, there would be no Mark Olsen. This time, I' d choose differently. This time, my life wouldn' t end in ashes.

My brother Leo's medical bills were a crushing weight, pulling us both into a financial black hole. Then, a lifeline: a contract, presented by a lawyer with a voice dry as old parchment. My mission for the next year: transform the Kincaid children, Oliver and Chloe, into "presentable" figures for their prestigious annual gala. The payment was astronomical, the only hope I had to save Leo. I signed, ready to become the stern governess, Sarah Hayes. Stepping into the marble-floored entryway of the Long Island mansion, I faced two miniature tyrants. Oliver, thirteen, oozed practiced apathy, while Chloe, ten, clutched a tablet displaying designer logos. "Another one? How long you gonna last, lady?" Oliver sneered, followed by Chloe's contemptuous, "Do you even know who I am?" Their father, perpetually attached to his phone, was nowhere to be found, leaving me to face their immediate, blatant rebellion alone. My first command was simple: hand over the skateboard and the tablet. This unleashed an explosion of outrage. "This is child abuse!" Oliver shrieked, threatening to call his wealthy, absent father. Chloe's wail was operatic, as if I’d declared her streaks and followers dead. The contract had warned of testing, but the sheer entitlement was a shock, making every small step feel like a war. How was I supposed to achieve "significant improvement" when their every instinct was to resist and undermine me? The Kincaid money, critical for Leo's surgery and recovery, felt like a constant mockery against their spoiled lives. The weight of my brother's future pressed down, reminding me that I absolutely could not fail, no matter how impossible the task seemed. My quiet thought, "Managing these two? How hard can it be?" now echoed like the most foolish words ever spoken. I held out my hand, unflinching, for the skateboard and tablet. Their resistance was part of the job description, a challenge I had to overcome for Leo. This was my new regime, unyielding, strict, and it had just begun. My personal philosophy was simple: family first.

A group of three girls go to a private chalet to spend three days as a holiday in the mountainous forest side. And to add to it there is a wild wolf who is roaming outside and the caretaker who is an ex murderer. Jeremy their friend is supposed to join them but goes missing before he even reaches there and they end up getting stuck with no light and phone connection. And many more stories .. A collection of thriller mystery romance adventure suspense historical novellas.

I was diagnosed with Soul Withering Syndrome, a high-risk condition where the wolf inside me was slowly starving to death. Full of hope, I went to find my mate, Gideon—the top healer in the alliance—desperate to find a shred of comfort from him. But as I stood outside his office, I heard him coldly state that I was just being unreasonable. "Chloe is weaponizing her anxiety to force me into a mating ceremony." He could not even be bothered to glance at my official medical scroll, instead accusing me of faking my pain just to steal his attention away from his obsession, the rogue wolf Yara. And when Yara called, lying about an obviously fabricated poisoning incident, he abandoned me without hesitation. He left me shivering in the freezing hallway, and eventually, due to the backlash of my withering soul, I coughed up pitch-black blood. For seven years, I had been waiting for him to see my pain. I could not understand how the man who had once exchanged mating tokens with me could be so blind. He let my soul rot in the dark, yet paraded himself as a loyal hero, running around at the beck and call of a woman full of lies. I did not shed a single tear, because my heart was already completely dead. Then, without hesitation, I threw his silver mate ring fiercely into the trash can. I contacted my family and accepted an arranged marriage—to wed the most feared Alpha in the alliance, Silas. This time, I chose to live for myself.

Ronald Gidwani, a billionaire, who is also a single father, finds love again when he meets Raina, The Queen Of His Heart.

I hid my identity as the Supreme Wolf Princess just to find true love, even sacrificing my soul core to cure the bloodline curse of my fated mate, Caleb. However, when he successfully became the Alpha of the Supreme Wolf Pack, he brought back Selene—a cunning she-wolf who faked an attack by rogue wolves to frame me. He would rather believe her fabricated tears than listen to my explanation, locking me on a balcony covered in toxic silver dust for three days and three nights. When I knelt and begged for forgiveness, telling him I was pregnant with his child, he sneered and accused me of carrying a rogue wolf's bastard. He watched coldly as Selene spiked my food with deadly poison and forced me to climb a tree covered in thorns. Ultimately, I lost my child, and my blood stained the earth red. I gave up my crown and my magic just to help him build his empire, only to receive humiliation in return. He even threw a banishment contract in my face, ordering me to be exiled to the wastelands. I felt a deep, agonizing sense of worthlessness for everything I had sacrificed for him! That was until the Royal Guard's helicopters blackened the sky, and my father—the Supreme Alpha of all werewolves—forced Caleb to his knees in a wretched state. "I accept your banishment." I threw that contract violently back into his trembling hands, watching his world crumble to ash. In this moment, he finally realized exactly what he had destroyed.

He opens the door and walks away. How could he just walk away like nothing had happened? The way he talks makes her wonder if she has made a mistake or not?

When Rachel's boyfriend goes into a coma after losing an incredible amount of blood after being shot, Rachel feels nothing but guilt. She could've saved him, but she just didn't know how. And now, her boyfriend is lying in a hospital bed with nothing but a heart monitor to keep Rachel somewhat calm. So what can Rachel do to support her boyfriend in this situation? Well, all she can do is write letters to him. Twenty letters to be exact.

Asher, is the cocky, arrogant, rude, and closed off Ceo of The National Elect Industries. He works hard for what he wants. He has everything he needs except one thing... A personal assistant until Natalia fulfills the position. Unfortunately they loathe each other. She puts him in his place, while he pushes her buttons. However Natalia's young daughter clenches at Asher's heart and possibly ties Natalia and Asher together. Natalia, is a sarcastic, independent, opinionated, and strong willed women. Recently having a baby at 3 years of age. Natalia fulfills the position of a personal assistant of the CEO of The National Elect Industries. She accepts the job to make a successful living for her and her daughter. However she can't stand him, let alone working for him. However, Natalia's little daughter warms up to Asher. She sees a side of him that draws her to him and possibly take interest in.

For eight years, I lived in a freezing, unheated apartment, washing the bloodstains out of my mob enforcer boyfriend's suits every day. He strictly gave me two thousand dollars a month, saying we had to live frugally and save up enough money to escape this dark world. But when I was washing his clothes, I found a receipt for a custom engagement ring worth sixty-eight thousand dollars. That ring wasn't for me, but for his secret lover, Mia. I cracked the password on his encrypted laptop and uncovered his three-year-long double life. He wasn't a bottom-tier thug struggling to survive in a dangerous game at all. He embezzled forty-eight thousand dollars from his mob boss's accounts every month to buy Mia diamonds, cars, and a luxury apartment in Manhattan. And meanwhile, I was drinking watery porridge just to save a little on the electricity bill. When I confronted him, he didn't show a single ounce of guilt, accusing me instead: "You're too heavy. Being around you suffocates me." He thought I was a pathetic parasite who couldn't survive without his protection. But what he didn't know was that I had already quietly earned over a million dollars through legitimate antique painting restoration work. I packed my bags. It was time to let the mob know who was really stealing their money.

Bobby Adams was transferred to a new school where he felt reluctant to go due to the rumors of the bullies he heard. He finds out that there's more to the school than some fancy looking students and buildings or more when a female student, Stephanie Myers, the school's most beautiful and brightest student was forced to a coma at the beach where she, alongside her classmates went for a field trip before his arrival. With his ability to see and communicate with the unseen, will he help the wandering spirit of the half-dead student on her quest to find her killer? or will he succeed in helping her cross over to the next side if eventually she doesn't wake up? Find out on this new story by preshytreenah Trust me, you do not want to miss out on this one.

Janis is new to New York and doesn't know anyone until she meets two of the sexiest men she has ever seen. She starts to like them both but feels something is off. It just seems a little to good to be true. Can you fall for two men at once? Will all the secrets and lies destroy her and everything she thought she has found in them?