Julian Reid

I brought the original drafts of the Lloyd Center to my stepsister’s high-society pool party, hoping the gift would finally earn my family's respect. I stood on the edge of the limestone patio, clutching the leather portfolio as fifty pairs of judgmental eyes watched my every move. But the moment I handed the sketches to Corina, she retracted her hand, letting the portfolio sink into the chlorine before throwing herself into the pool with a theatrical scream. My fiancé, Julian, didn't hesitate; he shoved me aside with enough force to twist my ankle and dove in to rescue her. He surfaced with Corina in his arms, looking at me with a mask of pure disgust while the crowd whispered that I was an unstable, illegitimate intruder. My stepmother Eugenia didn't even ask for an explanation before she stepped forward and slapped me across the face, ordering me to get out before she called the police. "Sister, if you're still mad about the inheritance, just say it. Why did you push me?" "Enough! God, Aria. Your jealousy is actually sickening." I stood on shaking legs, looking at the man who had promised to know my heart for two years, only to realize he was just another wolf in the pack. The humiliation burned hotter than the sting on my face, and I realized that in their eyes, I would always be the trash they needed to take out. I yanked the diamond ring off my finger, slammed it onto a table, and walked away from my old life forever. To claim my trust fund and survive, I walked into a dive bar and offered a marriage contract to a broke, mysterious artist named Harland. I thought I was just buying a temporary shield, but I didn't realize that my "poor" new husband was actually a billionaire predator who was already planning to burn my family's empire to the ground.

On the eve of my wedding, a viral TikTok revealed my fiancé had married another woman a week ago. When I confronted him, Jacob called it a "pity marriage." He dismissed our seven years together, offered me cash to shut up, and when I refused, he slapped me across the face. "You're the other woman now," he snarled, threatening to ruin me if I spoke out. The worst part? I was pregnant with his child. To break free from this monster, I made a heartbreaking choice and secretly terminated the pregnancy. When you have nothing left to lose, you become unstoppable. Tonight, at the live-streamed Tech Innovators Gala where he plans to accept our award with his new wife, I'm taking the stage. I'm not just taking back my company-I'm burning his entire world to the ground.

My husband, Grayson Daugherty, threw me out of his car in the pouring rain to rush to another woman's side. That was the night I learned our marriage was a lie, a carefully constructed cage to protect his real love. But the deception ran deeper than I could have imagined. When I tried to leave, my own family betrayed me, beating me until I bled just to keep their precious business alliance intact. My life's work, my photography, was stolen by his mistress, Kennedy, and he locked me in a dark basement, using my deepest childhood trauma as a weapon to force my silence. I was just a pawn, a shield, a sacrifice on the altar of their epic love. Stripped of my family, my art, and my heart, I finally understood. If they wanted a storm, I would become a hurricane. I burned our penthouse to the ground and walked away, ready to destroy the man who broke me. But I never expected him to follow me to the ends of the earth, ready to die just to prove his love was real.

I received a divorce text message. The sender was my husband, whom I had never met despite being married for a year through an arrangement. He said he had been in love with a girl for ten years and wanted to divorce me to pursue her. I agreed and casually asked for twenty million dollars as a settlement. Later, I met a man who blushed because of a single glance from me. He seemed to fall for me at first sight and asked for my contact information. I told him I had a husband and was in the process of getting divorced. He clenched his teeth in anger, swearing to make my jerk husband pay. When I appeared before him in divorce court, his face turned pale instantly.

The plan was simple: surprise my husband, Mark, in our new city after two months apart. Our daughter Lily was buzzing with excitement on the plane, her little legs kicking the seat in front. I imagined his face, the shock turning into a wide grin. But when I opened the door to his temporary apartment with the spare key he' d sent, my world shattered. His "temporary" place looked lived-in, cozy, with two coffee mugs in the sink and a woman' s sweater draped over a chair. Next to a framed photo of Mark and Lily was another-of Mark grinning with a younger woman I didn' t recognize, their arms around each other at a beach sunset. The scent of a perfume that wasn' t mine filled the air. Mark emerged from the bedroom, a towel around his waist, his hair wet. His bright smile was for Lily, before it froze when he saw me. Panic flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by an overly cheerful "Ava! Lily! What… what are you guys doing here? This is amazing!" He scooped Lily into his arms, avoiding my gaze. He was a good actor, but I wasn't his audience. I had just seen the whole script. I stood frozen, the handle of my luggage digging into my palm. He was a liar. He had called me last night, telling me how much he missed us, how he was working late to build our future. But his texts to "Chloe" revealed a whole other life. Pictures of them cooking in his kitchen, of them on hikes he told me he was too busy to take. He' d spent Lily' s birthday weekend with her at a luxury spa resort, while I thought he was working. He hadn't moved for his job. He moved for her. Then Chloe appeared at the door, letting herself in with a silent beep. Her fingerprint was programmed into his lock. "Hi, Chloe!" Lily chirped, waving. My daughter knew her. Mark' s face turned pasty. "Why?" Chloe asked, shrugging him off, her eyes locked on mine. "I think we should all have dinner together. Get to know each other." The audacity of this woman, inviting me and my child to dinner in my husband' s apartment. It was a power play, a declaration of war. I didn't understand. The man I married was kind, devoted, and honest. The man whose phone I held was a monster, living a double life. How could he do this to us? To Lily? My own mother and his parents sided with him, gaslighting me, telling me I was overreacting, threatening to take Lily. They underestimated me. They thought I was broken. They were wrong.

The terminal diagnosis felt like an ending, a quiet period to a long, exhausting sentence. I, Ava, the world' s only true prodigy in data analytics, was dying. My mind-a machine that could map the future with flawless precision-couldn't find a single path that didn't end in a hospital bed. The irony was suffocating. My body was failing because my mind had been running at an impossible overload for centuries. Not just this lifetime, but seven of them, a secret etched physically on my chest. Then the doorbell rang. It was Liam, my ex-fiancé, radiating success as always. But he wasn't alone. Clinging to his arm, my stepsister, Chloe, was unmistakably pregnant. "We came to tell you in person," Liam said, his voice devoid of warmth. "Chloe and I are getting married. Next month." Chloe added with fake sweetness, "We wanted you to be the first to know, sis." He then dropped the bombshell: "I' m buying out your shares. It' s time we made a clean break." He was cutting me out, erasing me from the company I had built. I watched him. He saw my frail form, noted my fading life, and coldly assessed it as his final liberation. He believed my death would untether him, unleashing his supposed genius to unimaginable heights. Little did he know, he was a parasitic fool convinced he was the host. For six hundred years, I had been the silent engine behind his every success, bleeding myself dry in the process. Each lifetime, my illness and early death fueled his ascent, bound by a master-servant contract. He thought my dying was his victory. He was wrong. My death was not a sentence. It was a deadline. And for the first time in centuries, I felt not despair, but a cold, sharp surge of energy. He thought he was closing the book on me. He had just given me permission to write the final, devastating chapter. This time, I was ready to reclaim what was mine.

The rain lashed against my office windows, a sudden storm mirroring the chaos that erupted when Dr. Chen' s call came, breathlessly telling me, "It's David." My husband, David, was in an accident, and when I arrived at the hospital, the world shattered-he was holding another woman's hand, looking at me with cold, polite confusion. "Can I help you?" he asked, as she, his executive assistant, Chloe, tightened her grip on his hand, a triumphant flicker in her eyes. He then scoffed when I told him I was his wife of ten years, declaring, "Chloe is my girlfriend," dismissing me as "crazy" when I listed our shared memories, our dog, our wedding. He even compared being married to me to being "a piece of sensible, well-designed, but ultimately unexciting furniture," a crushing blow that twisted every cherished moment of our life into a lie. Then, the final, undeniable proof came: a video of David and Chloe, intimate in our bed, sent by Chloe herself, a trophy of her victory, after he refused to help my ailing mother. The last ounce of love I had for David died, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. I called Mark, David's estranged best friend and an investigative journalist, who had looked at me with aching worry in the wake of David's betrayal. I was Sarah Miller, celebrated architect, and David Thompson had just made the biggest mistake of his manipulative life. I was done being the victim. It was time to play his game.

My world was perfect. Top of my class, early acceptance to Yale, just days away from the SATs. Then, my stepsister Tiffany handed me a protein shake. I trusted her, drank it, and then – darkness. I woke up in a cheap motel, framed for cheating, test booklets scattered, my phone incriminating. Campus security, news cameras flashing. "Cheater!" the headlines screamed. Yale rescinded my admission, my furious father disowned me, and my popular boyfriend Chad, feigning support, was part of it all. Pregnant, isolated, my dreams shattered, I withered, looking ten years older than I was. Five years later, I overheard Chad boasting, chillingly: "Tiffany and I planned it perfectly. She needed Sarah gone – Valedictorian, Yale, the Miller inheritance. And Sarah? Served her purpose. Time to upgrade to Tiffany." The betrayal, so cold and absolute, utterly shattered me. I ran blindly into the street, and then – screeching tires. Nothing. A gasp. I sat bolt upright in my own bed, sunlight streaming through my window. My heart hammered, the nightmare vivid. I looked at my phone. Three days before the SATs. It was happening again. No. It was my second chance. This time, they wouldn't know what hit them.

Ten years. That's how long I, Ava Miller, meticulously built my dream life. I left behind my past as the "notorious mean girl" Ashley King. Now, I had Chloe, the kindest best friend, and Ethan Reed, my devoted husband. We were expecting our first child, a symbol of our perfect future. Then, I found Ethan's journal. Dusty and hidden, it revealed a truth colder than ice. My husband, Ethan, wasn't just 'reborn' – he remembered a past life. A past where I, Ashley, was his enemy. He married me not for love, but to "monitor the threat." To keep an eye on me, the monster he believed lurked within. Ten years of tender kisses, shared laughter, and deep conversations were a calculated performance. He loved Chloe, always Chloe. Every "gentle" touch, every "concerned" glance, was a lie. My world shattered when, at the summer fair, he shoved my pregnant body aside to shield Chloe. He accused me, "Did you do this?" Then, a car swerved, and without a second thought, he threw himself at Chloe, his body slamming into mine. I woke up in a sterile hospital room. Our baby was gone. My heart was torn between searing grief and burning rage. How could he have been so blind, so obsessed with a phantom? So cruel. I looked at the man who destroyed everything. "I want a divorce, Ethan." This fake life ends now. I will reclaim my story.

For a year, chef Amelia Hayes lived a secret life, hidden from the world as the wife of Charleston old money heir, Ethan Vance. Her dreams were on hold, her identity masked, all for the "right time" Ethan promised would come. But their clandestine world shattered when Ethan' s manipulative stepmother, Cassie Thorne, discovered their marriage. Cassie issued a cruel ultimatum: Amelia had twelve months to make Ethan publicly claim her, or she would sign divorce papers and disappear forever. What followed was a relentless campaign of psychological and physical torment. Ethan, shockingly, enabled Cassie, prioritizing her every whim over Amelia' s well-being. Amelia was publicly humiliated, framed, fired from work she loved, and brutally beaten. The ultimate betrayal came when Ethan, shielding Cassie from a perceived threat, accidentally shattered Amelia's wrist, yet remained utterly blind to her pain, his concern solely for Cassie. Lying there, broken and abandoned, Amelia grappled with the stinging injustice. How could the man she loved so deeply, the one she sacrificed everything for, be so callous, so utterly blind to her suffering? How could she escape this nightmare of betrayal and despair? In that moment of profound agony, her hope, her love, died. A new resolve ignited: she would not just survive, she would break free. This was no longer a fight for Ethan, but a fierce battle for her own self-liberation. She chose to reclaim her life, no matter the cost.

My wife, Sarah, and I had a perfect life plan: no kids, just us, travel, and careers. To seal the deal, I underwent a vasectomy. I came home that day, a bag of frozen peas on my groin, feeling a strange mix of relief and finality, ready to celebrate. But Sarah didn't want to celebrate. She sat beside me, her grip tight, and said, "There's something I need to tell you. I've changed my mind about kids. I want one now. With Ethan." The name of her college flame hit me like a punch. My blood ran cold. She looked at her perfectly manicured nails, explaining calmly, "Since you can't have children now, it actually works out perfectly." She expected me to help raise this child, to be part of their "modern family." The audacity, the sheer, calculated cruelty of it, stole my breath. She had waited, let me go through with an irreversible procedure, then dropped this monstrous bomb. How could someone be so utterly devoid of empathy for the wreckage she’d caused? My mother, Maria, had always said Sarah was a sweet girl, but this was a bottomless abyss of betrayal. I stared at the woman I loved, the woman who had just slit my future open from navel to throat. "I want a divorce, Sarah," I said, the words heavy and final. My love, once a blazing fire, was now a smoldering ruin. In its place, something hard and unforgiving was beginning to grow. This wasn't just a breakup; this was an act of war, and I was going to make sure she paid for every calculated lie.

The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business. I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar. They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream. When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything. I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse? But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter. "If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance."

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?

I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend. On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card. He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face—he only called me baby on video calls. I ran to my best friend’s house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him. My best friend cried and begged me: "He’s Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!" But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I’ll protect you" softly. Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I’ll go. Not for the money, but to ask him to his face— Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me?

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."

"There will be no falling in love, we will only act as a loving couple when we are in public, we will share a room to make it believable, but no intimacy, touching is off-limits. We'll only have sex once a month, and that's solely to produce an heir. You won't interfere in my business, and I won't interfere in yours. You will be my wife in every sense and you will not be involved with any other man," he said, arrogance seeping from every word. I watch his mouth move, I'm not ready to fall in love with any man, especially not one as arrogant and egoistic as him. I can handle acting as a loving couple, and as for intimacy once a month. I can agree to that just to satisfy my sexual cravings with no strings attached. "Where can I sign?" I asked since I had nothing to lose. *** Nadine's wedding dreams turned to nightmares when she caught her sister and fiancé cheating! With a secret recording, she's ready for revenge. But then mysterious billionaire Logan West offers a deal: A Contract Marriage to take down her ex's empire. But what Nadine doesn't know is her life is getting complicated as she takes her chance to get revenge or risks everything for a chance at love?"

For two years, I lived as a ghost in the Horn manor, a world built on blood money where my every breath was monitored. Fulton Horn, my stepfather’s nephew and the executor of my life, held the golden leash around my neck, forcing me to play the role of his secret mistress while he paraded a socialite as his fiancée. Everything shattered at a high-society gala when the scent of raw seafood made me vomit at the feet of Fulton’s future bride. The ballroom erupted in whispers of a secret pregnancy, but Fulton’s reaction wasn't concern—it was cold, predatory calculation. He immediately forced me into a clinical "inspection" to ensure his "merchandise" was sound, then destroyed my only chance at escape by framing my friend in a scandal and blacklisting my credit. He dragged me to his penthouse, ripped my clothes, and told me I was nothing but a "placeholder" for his dead first love, Arlena. I was drowning in his obsession, forced to model his fiancée’s engagement gown while he claimed he was the only one who could "protect" me. "You are what I say you are," he whispered, "and you belong where I say you belong." I didn't understand how he could be so cruel, or why he was so determined to keep me in a cage of secrets. But when I looked closer at the photo of the "original" girl he loved, my blood turned to ice. It wasn't a girl named Arlena. It was a picture of me from six years ago, smiling and unbroken. I realized then that Fulton hadn't just found a replacement—he had spent years carefully destroying the girl I used to be so he could keep the broken pieces for himself. Reaching for the hidden keycard, I finally made a choice: I would find a way to kill the ghost he loved before he finished killing the woman I had become.

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

I think it was more of guilt than worry. I was fucking my ex fiancee's father and while I may not know how this leads, I knew I never wanted it to end. Liv Bennett thought she had her future all figured out-until the night she caught her fiancé, Aaron Blackwood, in a passionate betrayal with her step sister just a night before their wedding. Heartbroken and humiliated, Liv drowns her sorrows in alcohol and ends up sharing a heated, unforgettable night with a mysterious older man. But when the haze of the night clears, Liv's world is turned upside down again. The man she had a one night stand with is none other than Kaelon Blackwood-Aaron's father and a powerful billionaire alpha. As Liv struggles to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, she discovers she's pregnant with Kaelon's child, throwing her into a whirlwind of scandal and forbidden love. Caught between the betrayal of the past and the temptation of a forbidden future, Livphina must find the strength to choose her own path. But can she overcome the obstacles of age, power, and family to claim the love that was never meant to be hers? Will she walk away from the man who could destroy her-or embrace the one who might just save her?