Cun Li

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.

My husband, Dante Moretti, the feared Underboss, signed the divorce papers I slipped him without a glance. Too busy texting his true love, Sofia, he was blind to the annulment decree ending everything. The Reaper couldn't see the death of his own marriage. For three years, I was Elena, his silent wife, the "Caged Canary," cleaning his messes while meticulously planning my escape from our loveless world. He dismissed me for Sofia's every whim, publicly shaming me after a past love letter was read, then abandoning me again for her fake crisis. That night, he violently shoved me against a wall, leaving me bleeding and concussed, rushing instead to protect Sofia. Discarded and injured, my invisible love became a weapon against me. His crushing blindness, the cold realization I was a mere placeholder, fueled a profound injustice. How could he be so lethal, yet oblivious to his wife, favoring the one who betrayed him? With chilling resolve, I uploaded Sofia's confession, initiated a massive financial transfer dismantling his empire, and staged my own death. Under a new identity, I fled to San Francisco, ready to build my power, far from his bloody, deceitful world.

My husband looked at the toxicology report proving the daughter of the Chicago Capo had poisoned my mother. Then, without missing a beat, he looked me in the eye and asked if I wanted to discuss the dinner menu for the gala. That was the moment I realized Dante Vitiello wasn't my savior; he was the devil in a bespoke suit. To protect his precious alliance with Chicago, he buried the truth. When my mother died from the arsenic, he didn't offer comfort. Instead, he forced me to sign annulment papers, claiming I was mentally unstable. He stripped me of my title, my home, and my dignity to marry Sofia Moretti—the very woman who killed my mother—all because she claimed to be pregnant with his heir. I stood in the freezing rain, watching a giant screen in Times Square as he proposed to her. He told the press that Sofia was his hero, the one who saved his life during the ambush in Chicago. He lied. Under my soaked hoodie, the jagged scar on my arm throbbed. I was the one who took that bullet for him. I was the one who stitched myself up in silence so he wouldn't feel indebted to me. He erased my sacrifice to build a throne for his mistress. He thought he had broken me. He thought Elena Vitiello would fade away in a crumbling apartment in Queens. But he forgot one thing: I was the one who built his encrypted laundering network. I held the keys to his entire empire. I threw my wedding ring into the trash can and lit a match. Elena Vitiello died that night. And the woman who rose from the ashes didn't want his love anymore. She wanted his ruin.

I was pregnant with the Alpha’s heir, yet Michael refused to Mark me, calling my concerns "hormonal" while he paraded another woman, Serena, as his future Luna. The betrayal cut deep, but the breaking point came at the pack celebration. Serena slapped me across the face in front of everyone, and instead of defending his pregnant mate, Michael looked bored and ordered me to stop making a scene. That night, I didn't just leave; I ripped the mate bond out of my own mind. The pain was blinding, but necessary. With my mother's help, I faked my death—and the death of our unborn child—to escape his toxic hold. For four years, I raised my son, Finn, on a hidden island, safe from the politics that nearly destroyed me. I thought I was free, until a ragged, broken man washed up on my shore. It was Michael. He wasn't the arrogant King anymore; he was a beggar who had spent years mourning a ghost. When he saw Finn, he fell to his knees, weeping at the sight of the boy who had his golden eyes. "Is he mine?" he begged. "He is mine," I told him coldly. "You lost him the day you chose her." I prepared to send him away, but then the alarms rang. Serena had found us, leading a rogue army to slaughter my son for dark magic. Michael looked at me, his eyes clearing for the first time in years. "I will be your shield," he vowed. He ran straight into the silver blades, taking the death blow meant for our child. As he died in my arms, I finally forgave him. Now, I stand over his grave not as a victim, but as the Alpha Luna who will rule the world he left behind.

After seven years of devotion, I finally became pregnant with my fiancé Coleton's twins. But he secretly terminated the pregnancy, claiming it was for my health. The real reason? His ex-girlfriend, Annis, suggested it. He came to the hospital late, a fresh hickey on his neck, and instead of comforting me, he forced me to post a public apology to Annis for causing her "drama." He even used my phone to flirt with her, planning their dinner date right in front of me while I was still bleeding from the procedure he ordered. When I refused to play along, he abandoned me at the hospital exit, causing me to fall and get a concussion. Later, I found them in our bed, and he had the audacity to invite me to their "celebratory" dinner. "You're doing this for me, right?" he asked, a hopeful smile on his face. "So I can finally be happy with Annis?" I looked at the man I had given my life to, the man who had just stolen our children from me, and saw a stranger. This time, there would be no tears, no second chances. I took the pre-nup he signed years ago-the one that gave me a huge chunk of his company if he ever betrayed me-and walked away for good.

I gave up my art scholarship to put my boyfriend, Armand, through law school. I worked three jobs and even took a knife for him, believing his promise that we would build an empire together. But the day he became a star lawyer, I found him kissing his client, Cassandra, in the snow. The shock caused a miscarriage. When I tried to end my life, he brought his mistress to my hospital bed to call me a lunatic. He then used my family to blackmail me, forcing me to play the perfect wife while he flaunted his affair. For years, I was his broken trophy, a testament to his power. He had the career I funded, the woman he chose, and complete control over my life. But on the night his mistress held me at knifepoint on a skyscraper rooftop, she didn't kill me. She turned and plunged the knife into Armand's chest instead. And as his legal wife, I inherited everything.

My marriage ended the way the world found out about it: on a police report that landed on my desk. I was a prosecutor who had moved back to San Francisco to save my political marriage to tech billionaire Hilton Austin. When I confronted him at the hotel, I found my husband on one knee, not proposing, but tenderly tying his influencer mistress' s shoe. That night, he abandoned me on a dark highway to rush to her side, causing me to miscarry the child I was secretly carrying. At the hospital, he publicly accused me of faking the pregnancy, slapped me, and then cut my arm with a piece of broken glass. "Now you have a reason to be in the hospital," he said coldly. The love I' d held for him since I was sixteen didn't just fade; it was murdered. He thought he had broken me, but he only created a monster. I used my family's power to have him thrown in jail. When he begged for a second chance, I brought in my childhood friend, Adrien, and delivered the final, killing blow. "The baby wasn't yours," I said, my voice like ice. "It was his."

My life was a perfectly crafted blueprint of happiness. I was an architect, and my daughter, Lily, was my beautiful design. Then Sophia came along, filling spaces I hadn't known were empty, and her angelic son, Lucas, instantly became Lily' s "best brother." But on our first family camping trip, I found a horrifying collection: a dozen broken dolls, hair snipped, limbs twisted, eyes gouged out. "Lucas said it's his collection," Lily whispered. He smiled his innocent smile, claiming he "just found them and gave them a home," and Sophia rushed to his defense, completely blind. Then Lily fell sick, a strange, spiderweb-like rash spreading across her body. Lucas, the doting brother, sat by her hospital bed, winding a beautiful antique music box-his father' s, he said-filling the room with gentle melodies. But when no one was watching, his sweet expression would vanish, replaced by a cold, detached curiosity as he stared at Lily' s fading form. The day Lily died, that infernal music box was still playing. Her death wasn't an accident; I saw the cold, unnerving stillness in Lucas' s eyes. He had poisoned my daughter, enjoying every slow, agonizing moment. My world was annihilated, consumed by grief and the chilling melody of that music box, until everything went black. Then I gasped, eyes flying open, the scent of grilled burgers and fresh-cut grass in the air. I was holding a velvet ring box, and Sophia was smiling, her voice full of love. "Yes, Ethan, I' ll marry you." It was the day of our engagement party. The day before the nightmare began. And standing next to Sophia, holding her hand and beaming up at me, was Lucas, the monster hiding behind an angel' s face. I was back. I had been given a second chance, and I would not waste it.

The smell of smoke and burning wood woke me, my heart pounding. It was the same fire, the one that had consumed everything in my first life. But this time, Kaelen was alive, his silver eyes narrowed, not in concern for me, but in a frantic search for Lyra. He accused me of setting the blaze, demanding I save her with my own lifeblood, forcing the agonizing transfusion while she smirked, thriving on my pain and his blind devotion. How could he believe her lies, even as I sacrificed everything, again and again, for the very life he now blamed me for saving? Then, the memory hit me: Kaelen, dying in my past life, his last breath a bitter regret not for Lyra, but for me. This second chance wasn't just about saving him from fire, but from himself, from the painful, world-shattering regret that had haunted his dying eyes.

My experimental cure for a degenerative neurological disease had a bizarre requirement: "positive emotional resonance." Love was a luxury my family never afforded me. My twin Jessica, my parents David and Linda, and even my husband Mark, bled me dry, taking credit for my genius. The Phoenix Foundation announced my therapy was failing: seven days until my death. Still, they demanded more. Parents needed me to fix Jessica's buggy app for a funding round. Mark required elaborate legal strategies for his career. My talent, always theirs. My head throbbed, my body failing, but they saw only annoyance, demanding I work. Jessica feigned illness, then brazenly demanded IP rights to my groundbreaking app. Mark, dismissing my imminent death as "dramatics," framed me for Jessica' s hit-and-run, securing my forced committal-a painful death sentence. He even injected me with a lethal dose. My ultimate betrayal came when Jessica brutally attacked me with shears, and Mark, seeing my bleeding face, still prioritized her comfort. Lying there, bleeding and abandoned, a cold clarity dawned: they would never change. My life, a relentless sacrifice, was ending in torment. Why did they always break me, only to demand more? But then, a whisper from the Foundation: "Protocol transition." "Karmic Retribution Resonance." Not death, but a second chance. Not for love, but for their regret. I would become Anna Hayes, an architect of their downfall, finally taking back what was mine.

I was the rock of InnovateATX, Bella's husband, the tech visionary who' d put his own startup on hold to support her dream. Our Austin home, a life I helped design, was where I genuinely believed our future lay, despite the secret pact I' d made years ago with venture capitalist Olivia Hayes to neutralize Victor Cole, the man connected to my family' s ruin. Then, Bella handed me divorce papers, declaring, "It was always him," nodding towards Victor, her resurrected college sweetheart. Weeks blurred into public accusations – Bella siding with Victor, dismissing me as "moping" after a staged office "accident"- and private indignities, as she signed my resignation without a glance, calling my efforts a "drag." She watched me clear out our home, deeming our shared memories "sentimental junk," and, as I stumbled through the wreckage of my life, coldly stated, "I don' t love you anymore." Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, a truck swerved into my car, leaving me mangled and bleeding on a Hill Country highway. Through my blurring vision, all I could see was Bella, rushing past my wreck to Victor' s less damaged Tesla, cradling him, utterly oblivious to me. In that moment, the final, agonizing truth slammed into me: she truly felt nothing for me, the man she married, the man who had loved her. The raw realization was more painful than any shattered bone. Desperate, I fumbled for my phone and choked out Olivia' s name. Her voice cut through the chaos, calm and cutting: "They can make you disappear, Ethan. Officially. A clean slate. A new life. If you want it." Watching Bella's betrayal unfold, I whispered, "Yes. Do it." As darkness consumed me, my old life ended, and a new one, colder, sharper, was born from the ashes.

For five years, I was the devoted rock for Mark, pouring my love, money, and unwavering support into his struggling tech startup, dreaming of our shared future. Then, on April Fool's Day, a wedding invitation flashed on Instagram: Mark and Chloe. His college crush. Her smug caption, "#NotAJokeAnymore?", felt like a direct stab. He'd hidden it. That night, a drunken Mark called me Chloe, regretting he was "too broke" to pursue her. His friend confirmed I was a convenient rebound. Days later, I found Chloe in our apartment, wearing his shirt, who then gloatingly showed me their engagement photos – taken a month ago. I blacked out. Waking in the hospital, Mark brazenly offered a "solution": he' d keep me, his "wife," while managing Chloe. Five years of devotion, reduced to a reliable appliance, while my prematurely white hair screamed the truth of his deceit. But a notification for my expedited transfer to Europe was my lifeline. I ripped out my IV, walked out, and never looked back. Two years later, a frantic Chloe called: Mark was gravely ill, delirious, calling only for me, for my comforting remedies. He missed the services, not the woman. I calmly hung up; my new life was finally my own.

The drone of Mr. Davies' voice, the familiar hum of my junior year English class, felt strangely distant. Once, my life was a clear path: top student, Yale-bound, my future set. My mother, Dr. Emily Miller, a respected psychometrician for the College Board, a source of pride. But that perfect future shattered. Tiff Reynolds, the school' s queen bee, twisted my academic talents and my mother' s connection into a weapon. Jealous of my success, she spread a monstrous lie: I was the mastermind of a cheating ring, funneling actual test questions from my mom. The investigation hit like a Category 5 hurricane. My Yale admission, rescinded. My mother, suspended, her brilliant career in ruins. And Dad… Dad, hounded by shame and stress, passed away. The weight of their blame, the utter desolation, crushed me. I tried to end it all, escaping into a cold abyss. Why? Why did Tiff' s greed and lies destroy everything I loved, everything I was? The injustice was a searing, raw wound. There was no relief, no way out of that suffocating despair, only the consuming question of how my innocent actions could lead to such a catastrophic fall. Then, the world snapped back. Heart hammering, I was sitting in class again, the date September 14th. It was real. A second chance. My hands clenched under the desk. This time, I wouldn' t just survive. This time, they would pay.

For five years, Ava Miller navigated a passionate, secret relationship with Ethan Hayes, her best friend's younger brother. High above the New York skyline, she lived in their bubble, cherishing his touch and believing his fervent promises that their hidden love would "soon" be revealed to the world. She devoted herself, feeling vibrant and truly loved. One devastating night, her carefully constructed world shattered. Hiding just outside a half-open door, Ava overheard Ethan tell his closest friends she was nothing more than "great practice"—a mere "walking manual" for him to hone his boyfriend skills for his true, long-held obsession, Chloe Vance. Five years of her life, dismissed as a calculated "training program." The revelation was a gut punch. Ethan, the man who pursued her so ardently, abandoned her at her sickest to fuss over Chloe’s minor scrape. He allowed Chloe to publicly gloat, calling Ava a "warm-up act" and "convenient." Every tender word, every intimate gesture, now felt like a meticulously rehearsed lie. The man she loved saw her as a disposable tool. How could someone be so callous? Was her entire five-year relationship a horrifying, humiliating charade? The sheer audacity, the betrayal, left her reeling, disgraced and utterly heartbroken. What was she if not a placeholder, a learning experience for someone else? Refusing to be a discarded practice doll any longer, Ava made a stark choice. She severed all ties, sold her life in New York, and fled to Charleston, determined to build a new, honest life—one where she was truly valued. But would her past, and Ethan’s eventual realization, allow her to move on untouched?

Queenie had been engaged to Ivan since childhood. However, she had only seen her future husband once—at their engagement party—and when he made a quick appearance, she could only look at him from afar. Their parents had arranged their marriage, yet Queenie believed that she could be an excellent wife no matter what kind of man she married. Much to her surprise, her new husband had a tryst on their wedding day. Ivan even wanted to annoy her and make her angry, but the moment he landed a kiss on her lips, he found himself inadvertently addicted to her sweetness.

Imagine if you will: At the highly secretive, largely independent, inter-dimensional and (inevitably) clandestine organization called the Time Saving Agency, there is a saying that goes: ‘You can’t break an omelet without first making eggs’. While this may appear to be a rather flippant little idiom, there is – as is usually the case, far more to it than meets the eye. For starters, that’s a rather simple principle of Time Travel right there – and according to the pioneers of time travel, it’s one of the foundation stones of the Theory behind it. It’s something of a paradox – a mind-boggling annotation in the ever-puzzling and ever growing Anals of History. (Some readers may still be thinking that should be ‘Annals’ – however, the author of this work cannot be blamed for what you may think.)

April Grace had a childhood unlike most girl's. Despite the differences, she has always been a happy, likable girl. When tragedy shakes her faith and trust , only friends- and a certain handsome cowboy will help her to survive this storm and fulfill the last promise she made to her father: To move on and be happy. Author's Note: *This story does contain a slightly touchy subject.* If it bothers you then by all means do not read. It was deeply on my mind and heart though and I simply HAD to write it out. This is a CLEAN HISTORICAL ROMANCE with a HAPPILY EVER AFTER! HAPPY READING! - Lady Rosabella

Livy has always had a difficult life, she's never been one of the girls with a million friends. One night a 'prince charming' in the form of a road worker finds her passed out on the sidewalk. This begins a rather forced friendship as they endure the tragedies that life rolls at them. Just a sweet story that WILL have a happy ending.

Imagine if you will: Somewhere in the depths of space a somewhat ordinary, boring-looking medium-sized yellow star cast weird-looking shadow-puppets across the dark interstellar wastes that currently belonged to the Terran Empire. Nine planets spun around it in suitably eccentric orbits – tiny slivers of matter that had rolled up into little balls and wished the rest of the universe would just bugger off and stop staring. When the Humans arrived here they settled on one of them and (in polite company) called it Home. Since it was a frontier world where roughing it was a way of life, there was very little at all to laugh at. So one bright su – um, day, they called the star Ramalama – and named the two tiny moons of their new home Ding and Dong. (This is something of a local joke.) Since that time, the Terran colony known as Deanna flourished and prospered to become the bustling third rate world it was today, which in case anyone is wondering, was a bright February morning in the distant future.

His first memories were of watching his father do business with his 'clients'. Zane's father is rich, powerful, and evil. Everything Zane is determined not to be. After watching his father murder an innocent couple, Zane leaves town to create a life of his own. When circumstances bring him home, he comes face to face with a victim he loved as a child. She remembers crouching in the empty pickle barrel in a cellar. Shouting. Her mother pleading for more time. Gun shots. Silence. Then men men began searching. Searching for her. "Find me that girl." Her nightmare growled. "I have plans for her." Loud suggestive laughter followed his statement. From that day forward, River began her life over. Working her job, paying her rent, and avoiding the advances of a man eager to catch her off guard. Life was lonely but it was predictable. Predictable meant safe. Then Zane arrived. He's determined to win her heart. She will learn how to love. *This is a CLEAN HEA historical romance.

Honestly, Gary didn’t know what to say to Jenny Grauffis! What was he supposed to say? That she shouldn’t cry because she would get to see her sister again? That Danielle might survive this terror, and one day come home? He knew that would be a lie. Nobody survives things like that intact and gets to go home again. This was the part that Scrooby had told him was going to be so hard!

Deputy Micah finds himself alone and lonely when his best friend finds himself happily married. While all the other men have families and homes to go to at the end of the day, Micah goes to the only place that feels like home. The saloon. Lily has escaped her rich powerful abusive father. She longs to rescue her sister from the same situation, so she works as a serving girl at the saloon, saving every penny she earns to send for her sister. Micah has always admired the sweet gentle serving girl, though he has no idea the amount of trouble that admiration will bring him. THIS IS A HAPPILY EVER AFTER HISTORICAL ROMANCE This a sequel to Loving River- it can stand alone but it helps if you've read the first.

Abby is a nerdy girl who is best friend with the best playboy in school Huxley Ford. After getting told by her boyfriend that she is boring and that is the reason why he cheated on her, Abby decide to get drunk for once and ended up in bed with her best friend. Hux fears responsibility and try to keep his relationship with every girl just a sex thing and nothing more. In a bid to console his best friend Abigail Zimmerman, he had sex with her and took away her innocence. Hux panicked and decide to be a jerk after the sex ghosting her completely. After few weeks, Abby come crying to him that she's pregnant and freaks Hux out of his mind. After seeing the baby ultrasound image, He change his mind about aborting the little foetus abd decide to protect both the baby and Abby, even if it means going against his Dad and giving up his inheritance to become a pauper.

Imagine, if you will: The battle cruiser was lost. In the desolation of the vastness of space, all was silent. All, that is, except for the screaming. Then that too fell mercifully silent. Captain Armon Kaine was the last of his crew that had survived – or at least, if any others were still alive, he was unaware of them. It didn’t seem likely, given the circumstances. Somehow that… thing had managed to kill every one of his crew within the space of only a few days! All had died horribly – mangled and mauled to death!

Stefon J. Ridry- aka- Jude S. Rydir is a man who relies on no one and nothing. Life and people ( his family) has taught him that you can trust no one. So he does what he must. He goes to a small developing western town to live a quiet life of seclusion. Living a secluded life is not easy as it should be with his brother's henchman gunning for him, a widow lady dermined to find him his soul mate, and a sweet girl looking for a friend. Bliss Starett moved to her Aunt's small Colorado town to help her get back on her feet after an accident. Bliss explected wildflowers, dust, and fields filled with cows. Life away from her city life. What she didn't expect was a sly aunt trying to marry her off to the town's recluse, being kidnapped by a hulk of a man, and falling in love with the same distrusting, quiet man that her aunt's trying her match-making skills on. Attention: This is a CLEAN historical romance