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Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality. Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison. But the game was far too real. Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice. Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit. Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight. She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home? How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door? Until she looked at her nightstand. Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic. And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar. She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.

"Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster," Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more. A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes. "So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?" I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area. He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. "Damien. I am Katherine's fiancé. your niece" He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers. "Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!," I whispered back. "Now be quiet and try to control yourself" . Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand

Temptations, a world of investigation, mystery, and the supernatural, unfolds through tales set in the Lovecraft County universe, where magic and science intertwine, magical families vie for power like imperial houses, and cosmic entities observe from the veils of reality. This saga, born from intrigues of power, mystery, debauchery, and passionate bodies, is a testament to this. Tsuki, the man with red and white hair, is heir to a cursed lineage, always entangled in passionate affairs between men and women. Whenever his eyes meet, they reveal secrets that should not be seen. His heart is always divided between forbidden passions and ancestral responsibilities. Throughout his life, his dealings, intrigues, and mysteries unfold, amidst love affairs, sex, and passions, as he becomes involved with his witches, each representing aspects of desire and seduction, bringing with them mysteries, intrigues, and dangers, amidst intrigues, love affairs, passionate affairs, darkness, light, and the entanglements of bodies and their moments of passion. From masked balls to blood pacts, from living paintings to endless towers, Tsuki traverses scenarios that blend the cosmic horror of Lovecraft with the political intrigues of Dunes and space planets embroiled in political intrigue, where the magical atmosphere of magical worlds, amidst romances, is enveloped in conspiracy, each passion a prophecy, each choice a risk. Temptations is more than a saga of love and magic. It's a universe of family intrigues, secret pacts, and cosmic entities. While wandering among thrillers and detective cases, amidst the story of a man torn between temptation and destiny, between chaos and passion. In the midst of embarking on a dark, mature, and captivating epic, where each page is an invitation to the abyss-and each temptation is a choice between living and being lost. Tsuki was born under the reflection of this Mirror, his red and white hair a sign of the curse, and his eyes revealing secrets that should not be seen. Still always involved, since he was a child, he was haunted by visions of witches and shadows, and each family saw him as a threat or prophecy, among demons and supernatural beings, in the midst of dark cities, warm beds, and his passions. After traversing masked balls, blood pacts, living paintings, endless towers, and enchanted seas, Tsuki reaches the end of his journey. As he embarks on stories that show the mirror, now broken into nine fragments, revealing its truth: every witch he loved, every intrigue he faced, every temptation that consumed him, was part of the same destiny. In the final reflection, Tsuki sees himself-not as an heir, not as a lover, not as an artist, but as a bridge between worlds. At various moments, he understands that love and desire are not curses, but forces capable of challenging even forgotten gods.

When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married. His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope. But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search. "Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars."

My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening. I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening. Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything. I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill. That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times.

was a witness to a murder I wasn't supposed to see. I expected a bullet; I got a golden cage." Ivy Thorne is a nobody-a struggling cellist with a mountain of medical bills and a past she can't remember. Her life changes in a heartbeat when she witnesses Kaelen Volkov, the Mafia's most lethal enforcer, executing a traitor in a dark alley. She should be dead. But Kaelen doesn't pull the trigger. Instead, he sees the star-shaped birthmark on her neck and makes a choice that will ignite a war. To save her from his father's wrath, he claims her as his own. Now, Ivy is trapped in a world of blood and silk, forced to play the role of Kaelen's devoted fiancée. He's cold, scarred, and dangerous, yet he treats her like a priceless treasure he's been waiting years to reclaim. As the lines between her fear and her desire begin to blur, Ivy realizes that Kaelen isn't just protecting her from the Mafia-he's hiding a secret about her past that could shatter her world. In the Volkov empire, loyalty is everything and debt is paid in blood. But for Ivy, the highest price might be her heart.

"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?" A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes. "Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?" I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me. "The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?" Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."

They called her weak. They called her worthless. They should have called her Wynter. Beatrice spent twenty years as Silvermist Pack's punching bag, mocked, starved, and worked to the bone. When her fated mate, Alpha heir Eamon Riven, publicly rejected her at her first shift ceremony, she thought her humiliation was complete. She was wrong. Because the "pathetic omega" everyone sneered at? She's actually the long-lost daughter of the most powerful Alpha family in the kingdom. And her four overprotective brothers, a ruthless Alpha Lord, a gifted Healer, a cunning Strategist, and a lethal Shadow operative just found her. Now Beatrice is done being small. Done being sorry. And definitely done letting anyone disrespect her. But between her groveling ex-mate who suddenly wants her back, a vengeful enemy plotting her destruction, and four brothers who terrify every man who looks at her, reclaiming her power is complicated. Good thing Darius Veylor, the steadfast Beta with forest-green eyes and a heart of gold, isn't afraid of a little chaos. Or four murderous brothers-in-law.

Elia was an orphan from the rust belt, taken in by the wealthy Chapman family in New York. To them, she was just a shameful charity case. The parents shoved her into a dusty storage closet, treating their other daughter Geri like a delicate princess, and mocked Elia as uneducated trash. When Elia secured her own admission to Manhattan Elite Prep, Geri's jealousy turned vicious. Geri orchestrated a massive smear campaign, posting anonymously on the school forum that Elia was a violent dropout who sold her body to a sugar daddy to pay tuition. In the cafeteria, the school's elite dumped dirty milk on Elia's food. They called her a whore and told her to go back to the streets, while Geri watched from afar with a victorious, innocent smile. They thought she was just a helpless stray dog who would easily break under their high-society cruelty. They had no idea she was actually "L", the dark web's most feared hacker, and "The Surgeon", a genius medical anomaly. They also didn't know she was currently tracking a dying Wall Street billionaire who had stolen her only necklace in a dark alley. What made these arrogant rich kids think they could destroy a girl who played with international firewalls for fun? Instead of crying, Elia calmly pulled out her phone. Within seconds, she breached the school's server, locking every screen in the building onto a blood-red skull. As Geri's own recorded voice plotting the fake rumors blasted through the PA system, Elia grabbed her bag, stepping back into the shadows to reclaim what was hers.

To escape my psychopathic, controlling lover, I faked my death in a Syrian war zone. Thirty-seven reconstructive surgeries later, the terrified girl he kept locked in a basement was gone. I returned to New York as an untouchable neurosurgeon, Dr. Alivia Clay. I only came back to save his grandfather—the one man who helped me escape. I thought my flawless new face was the perfect armor. But the moment Collis Duncan saw me, he cornered me against the hospital wall. He didn't recognize my face, but he recognized my panic. He trapped me in his arms, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and orange blossom on my skin. "You smell exactly like a ghost I used to know," he whispered. Worse, a traumatized, mute little boy with Collis's exact gray eyes stumbled into me in the hallway. The boy clutched my white coat and handed me a flashcard with a crude drawing of a woman. "Mama." My blood turned to ice. Five years ago, I was told my newborn baby burned to ashes in that medical tent. How could this boy be alive? Why did Collis have my son while I mourned a pile of dust? Now, Collis is ordering a microscopic background check, desperate to tear my fake life to the ground and cage me again. But I'm not running anymore. Once I finish this surgery, I'm taking my son back.

The darkness of the Yale archaeological dig site swallowed Eleanor whole, dropping her straight into a lethal, prehistoric jungle. Before she could even process the bizarre time jump, a massive prehistoric wolf attacked her, only for her to be saved—and immediately claimed—by Jace, a towering, blood-soaked savage chief who marked her as his mate. Dragged back to his primitive camp, her nightmare only escalated. When she used her modern first-aid kit to save a dying hunter whose stomach had been ripped open, the tribe didn't thank her. Instead, a jealous tribeswoman named Greta and a ruthless Shaman incited a violent, torch-wielding mob. "Burn the witch before we all die!" They marched on the Chief's cave, demanding Eleanor be burned alive, claiming her life-saving stitches and antibiotics were dark magic that would curse them all. Eleanor was terrified and furious. She had just pulled a man back from the brink of death using basic medical science, yet she was about to be slaughtered by a mindless mob simply because they couldn't understand her language. Was she really going to be burned at the stake for an act of pure salvation? But when the hunter's fever broke and he walked out alive, the angry mob dropped to their knees in absolute reverence. Looking at her dying lighter and finite supplies, Eleanor realized that fear wouldn't keep her alive in this brutal world. She pulled out her tactical pen, deciding to drag this savage tribe out of the dark ages herself.

Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role. During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes. The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance. "You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked. What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed. Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA. Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television. "The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart." She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.

"Oh. God, Eli, please! I'm not on the pills," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders. "With a pussy as sweet as that?" he growled against my neck. "Jett was the loser. I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this pussy till the end. Afraid you're gonna have my child?" My head dropped as a shudder ripped through me. "You're crazy!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're mine now. My woman. And I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty body of yours only knows me." --- Rowanne Steele thought she had it all. A perfect marriage to Jett Carter, heir to the Carter empire, and a future filled with love. But when Jett dies in a tragic car crash, her world shatters. Her mourning days aren't over, still clinging to his memory, drowning in grief and loyalty to the man she thought she knew. Until one night, a hidden truth rises from his belongings and everything Rowanne believed about her husband was a lie. Lost and heartbroken, she runs into the only arms that feel safe, Eli Carter, Jett's younger brother. What begins as a moment of comfort in the rain turns into a mistake neither of them can forget. A mistake that feels far too much like fate. Rowanne swears it can't happen again. Eli refuses to let go. Whether forbidden or not, he's determined to claim her. And this time, he won't lose.

Hovering as a translucent soul in the freezing cemetery, I watched Corbin Mendez—the ruthless billionaire I had spent my entire life despising—violently smash open my tomb. I thought he had come to desecrate my corpse. Instead, he collapsed to his knees, reverently kissed my dead lips, and swallowed a lethal bottle of pills without a drop of water. In my past life, I was betrayed by my ex-fiancé, framed by my vicious step-family, and trapped in a suffocating marriage with Corbin. I thought he was a paranoid, abusive monster who only wanted to control me. I fought his madness every single day until I died sick, exhausted, and utterly defeated. But watching him climb into my casket, wrapping his massive arms around my cold body to die beside me, my non-existent heart shattered. Why hadn't I seen the truth? He wasn't a monster; he was a deeply traumatized man suffering from severe PTSD, and his obsessive love for me was his only tether to sanity. The regret and agony tore my soul to pieces. "My love, I'm too late." Those were his last words before his heart stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't floating in a dark tomb. I was lying in Corbin's bed, exactly two years in the past. This time, I wouldn't run away. I would heal the broken beast who died for me, and I would personally put a bullet in everyone who ruined us.

I was Aliana Donovan, a resident physician, finally reunited with the wealthy family I' d been lost from as a child. I had loving parents and a handsome, successful fiancé. I was safe. I was loved. It was a perfect, fragile lie. The lie shattered on a Tuesday when I discovered my fiancé, Ivan, wasn't at a board meeting but at a sprawling mansion with Kiera Reese, the woman I was told had a mental breakdown five years ago after trying to frame me. She wasn' t disgraced; she was radiant, holding a little boy, Leo, who giggled in Ivan' s arms. I overheard their conversation: Leo was their son, and I was merely a "placeholder," a means to an end until Ivan no longer needed my family's connections. My parents, the Donovans, were in on it, funding Kiera' s lavish life and their secret family. My entire reality-the loving parents, the devoted fiancé, the security I thought I' d found-was a carefully constructed stage, and I was the fool playing the lead role. The casual lie Ivan texted me, "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you. See you at home," while he stood beside his real family, was the final blow. They thought I was pathetic. They thought I was a fool. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

She thought patience would ear‍n her love. She wa‍s wrong. ‍After years o⁠f waiting for her best friend to finally see⁠ her, she m‍eets the one man she should never wa‌nt-his older brother. Dar‍k, forbidden, and danger‍ously perceptive, he sees th‍rou‌gh every excuse sh⁠e's eve⁠r made f‌or being ove‌rlooked. Now she must choose between a saf‌e fantasy tha‍t keeps break‌ing her heart and a dangerous truth that offers no escape once it begins. Because the brother who looks at her like that? He doesn't belie‍ve in halfw‍ay love.

Scarlet Underwood had always fancied herself in love with Alpha Alex, she always knew he would be the one she would get married to. It was a dream come true to finally walk down the aisle and become not only his mate but the Luna of the pack. However, everything came crashing down when Kayla, Scarlet's best friend, claimed she was pregnant with Alpha Alex's child. Hurt, betrayed, and angry, Scarlet runs away. She gets attacked by rogues but is saved by Damien, the feared Lycan King, and it is painfully obvious by the sparks flying that they are mates. Damien, the reclusive Lycan King, is unsure what to do with his mate. He harbors a dark secret that may threaten to harm her if she chooses to stay with him, but he can't deny the burning attraction and pull he feels to her. Will Scarlet open up her heart to the possibility of love after having been burned once? And will Damien find a way around the curse and claim his mate? Join Damien and Scarlet on their journey of love, sacrifice, and betrayals!!!

Hana is living a quiet life as an art teacher, a peaceful façade for the most dangerous truth of all she is Kurai-Hime, the exiled legendary assassin of a mighty Japanese Yakuza clan. Her past shatters her present when she is forced to honor a blood pact: replace her dead sister in a marriage alliance with Luca Conti, the formidable heir to an Italian mafia empire. Luca, a devastatingly handsome and ruthless "Smiling Tiger," expects a meek, political bride. He is charmed by Hana's ethereal beauty and delicate demeanor, vowing to protect his innocent "dove" from the brutal realities of his world. Hana plays her part perfectly, all while using her brilliant, tactical mind to analyze every weakness in his fortress and his organization. The fragile masquerade explodes when Luca is ambushed. Cornered and wounded, he expects a tragic end only to watch his seemingly fragile fiancée unleash a storm of elegant violence, wielding a katana to cut down his attackers. In that bloody moment, his shock transforms into awe, and a shocking, undeniable truth: he is falling in love with the ruthless warrior, not the gentle illusion. Now, their marriage of convenience becomes a dangerous game of hidden blades and raw revelation. As Hana's true identity begins to surface, she must navigate the venomous politics of Luca's family, the simmering rage of his rivals, and the lethal pull of her own past. To survive, this Yakuza weapon and her Italian Don must learn to fight not as protector and protected, but as equal partners. But when a final, devastating threat targets them both, they face an impossible choice will they sacrifice each other for the dynasties that created them, or become the most feared power couple the underworld has ever seen?

"Adrian, why would you lie to me? Why would you let her push my mum like that?" Yvonne's voice trembled, holding back tears. Adrian smirked. "Wake up, Yvonne. You really thought I wanted you when Tricia was right here?" That was how Adrian-her first crush, the boy she thought cared-chose to humiliate her in front of everyone as she was the cleaner's adopted daughter. But fate had other plans. Because the Diamond Belfort brothers-the heirs everyone adored were coming to their school in search of their missing heiress- baby sister. But the queen bee steals the chance that should have been hers. Then again, secrets don't stay buried forever. With her true identity waiting to explode, Yvonne must decide to rise from the ashes, claim her place, and bring down everyone who tried to destroy her. Because the real heiress doesn't beg. She takes rather. Now, Yvonne is done playing small. It's her time to rise, reclaim her crown, and make everyone regret ever doubting her.

To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall. My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent. He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced. I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder. But things quickly stopped making sense. When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower. Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator. "I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts." I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa. Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift. He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time. But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise. Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires? And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique? I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

I woke up in a freezing exile wagon as Elara Vance, the only "wolfless" member of a disgraced werewolf family. We were thrown out into the brutal Frostfang Wilds to die. The ruthless Alpha of the Black Moon Pack, Kaelen Blackwood, took one look at my fragile body and assigned us a rotting, splintered hovel at the edge of the camp—a deliberate execution to weed out the weak. My father was a broken, catatonic Alpha waiting for the end. My starving mother wept as she tried to force her last frozen crumb of food between my blue lips, while my brothers used their own battered bodies to shield me from the howling blizzard. The Luna Queen who exiled us expected us to perish quietly in the snow. The other warriors mocked us, waiting for the cold to claim our lives so they could strip our corpses. "She's lost to the cold madness!" my mother shrieked when I began clawing at the ice with my bare, bleeding hands. They all looked at me with pity and disgust, thinking my lack of an inner wolf made me a useless burden. They treated me like a fragile piece of glass destined to shatter in this frozen hell. But they didn't know a modern engineer's soul now lived inside this fragile shell. I didn't need claws or fangs to survive. I picked up a jagged stone, smashed the permafrost, and decided to build my own fortress. This wasn't an exile; it was my new beginning.

My new boss is gorgeous, arrogant, and filthy rich. The only problem? He doesn't know he's also the father of my baby. Six years ago, I was supposed to get married. But the night before the wedding, my groom-to-be showed me sides of himself I'd never seen before. I might've died in that hotel room... If Mikhail Novikov hadn't burst in to save me. Handsome, strong, capable knight in shining armor-sign me up, right? WRONG. Because Mikhail wasn't just the hero I never knew I needed... He was also way more dangerous than I ever could've known. But for one night, I let myself do something I never should've done. It was worth it-several times over, if you catch my drift. In the morning, though, I did the reasonable I RAN. For six years, I keep running. Until I walk into work one day, and find my new boss waiting in my office. Guess who? And guess what he does when finds out about our baby?

Eleonora held the positive pregnancy test, trembling with fragile hope as she told her husband they were having a baby. Instead of embracing her, Butler slapped the plastic stick away, his eyes cold and dead. "You cheating whore," he spat, throwing a stack of papers at her face. He didn't listen to her desperate pleas. He ordered his bodyguards to drag her out of their penthouse and lock her in a private hospital room. Trapped and terrified, Eleonora watched in horror as Butler's mistress walked in with a wicked smile. The mistress shoved a medical consent form, signed with Butler's unmistakable handwriting, right in front of Eleonora's face. "This isn't just an abortion," the mistress sneered. "It's a full hysterectomy. You'll never have a child again." Eleonora's heart shattered into pieces. She couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so cruel, willing to kill their unborn baby and mutilate her body over a fabricated lie. Driven by pure maternal terror, she smeared her blood on the forged papers, set the hospital room on fire, and let the world believe she had burned to ashes. Five years later, Eleonora returned to New York with her young son. She was no longer the weak, broken girl who begged for mercy. Walking into the Holloway Group boardroom in a flawless Dior suit, she slammed a legal document onto Butler's desk. She was still his legal wife, and she was here to dismantle his empire piece by piece.