Menot13

Rachel, a headstrong young heiress, is forced to face a bitter reality when her dying father compels her to marry a man she never imagined-her new secretary at the company. To her, this marriage is nothing more than a sacrifice to fulfill her father's final wish. But little does she know, the man holds secrets that could change everything. Behind their cold agreement and mutual distrust, something unexpected begins to bloom. Will this forced marriage pave the way to love, or will it only deepen the wounds in Rachel's heart?

"You really know how to make me angry, Mine," Seth growled right in front of Jasmine's face, making her feel his warm breath mixed with the smell of cigarette. "What were you thinking when you were with that jerk earlier, hm? Were you intending to spend the night with him?" Seth asked, making Jasmine silent as she looked at those sharp green eyes. Because I'm angry. Because I'm disappointed. And because I'm afraid of losing you. There were so many reasons Jasmine wanted to tell Seth, but it felt so difficult to express them all, so Jasmine finally just reached out her hand and pulled at the tie Seth was wearing, which erased the distance between them.

Letta Letishia finally found herself living in luxury and wealth. However, all of that didn't meet her expectations when she had to marry a man who would be the father of the child she was carrying, the result of a one-night stand with Marco Jovanka, CEO of JV Airlines. Marco also happened to be her superior at work as a flight attendant. "Are you carrying my child?" Marco asked, staring at Letta with a questioning gaze. Letta, who had been avoiding Marco, could only remain silent as their eyes met. "Answer me, are you carrying my child?" Marco asked again, growing suspicious of Letta's evasive behavior. "No, I am not carrying your child," Letta finally replied, causing Marco to tighten his grip on her arms. "If only I knew that you were lying and hiding that fact, I wouldn't have let you go, Letta," Marco whispered with a low voice, making Letta's body tremble. Even Letta dared not return his gaze, only looking down at the tips of her shoes.

Letta tried to stand up because her turn might be called soon. Letta chose to go to the bathroom first until someone accidentally bumped into her shoulder, almost making Letta sit back down. However, Letta felt a large hand now embracing her waist, making her tilt her head slightly, and the next moment her eyes widened when she saw the familiar sharp gaze in front of her. Letta immediately pushed the man. "You," Letta said, covering her mouth, puzzled about how she could meet this man in a situation like this. "What are you doing here?" Marco asked, inspecting Letta's appearance, making Letta quickly shake her head. "I just dropped by," Letta said, unsure of how to answer Marco's question. Marco then looked at the room in front of him, clearly labeled 'obstetrician.' "You say you just dropped by. Maybe I would believe that if you were in a restaurant or cafe, but this is a hospital. How can you say you just dropped by this hospital?" Marco said, making Letta curse herself. Their attention was then diverted when suddenly the teenager stood between them. "Uncle, do you know her?" the teenager said suddenly, making Letta also slightly surprised. It turned out that was what made Letta feel familiar all this time. Their way of speaking was the same; they both had a very dominant style in conversation. "Yes, I just stopped by here. So, excuse me, I have to leave immediately," Letta said, making Marco unable to just let her go. Marco clearly knew that Letta had been waiting in the waiting room to be examined, making Marco immediately grab Letta's arm. "Are you going to have a pregnancy checkup?" Marco asked again, making Letta widen her eyes. "Why would I have a pregnancy checkup? I'm not pregnant," Letta answered, denying it with a panicked expression, making Marco furrow his brow. "I don't believe you," Marco said. "That's up to you. I'm not going to force you to believe me either. So, excuse me, I have to leave immediately," Letta said, but just as she was about to release Marco's grip, a nurse suddenly emerged and called her name. "Miss Letta Leticia," the nurse said, making Letta widen her eyes, while Marco looked towards the nurse. "Isn't that your name?" Marco said, making Letta immediately shake her head, but the nurse called her name again. "For Miss Letta Leticia, please come in," the nurse said, making Marco once again look at Letta with a suspicious gaze. "I may not know your full name, but I'm sure you're called Letta," Marco said, making Letta fall silent. Actually, Letta could have run away, but for some reason, the pain returned to her stomach. The nurse called Letta's name for the third time, making Letta finally raise her hand. "I, nurse... I'll go in now," Letta said, making the nurse nod before entering the room. Letta then let go of Marco's grip and was about to enter the room, but her steps halted when Marco suddenly followed her. "What are you doing? Are you following me?" Letta asked, making Marco fold his arms again. "Of course, I need to know your condition, and you also need to explain. Why did you have to lie about your pregnancy?" Marco said again, making Letta close her eyes. It seemed there was no other way for her to maintain the lie she had been covering up. "Is it that only those who register with this doctor are here for pregnancy checkups? Isn't the teenager you brought also going to be examined in this room? What's her problem?" Letta asked, making Marco look at his niece. "She's my niece, and it's a different story from you. She does have some issues with her body, but you're different," Marco said again, making Letta look at him while guarding her dignity. "Different how? I'm also going to have my body checked. So, it's better if you don't need to follow me, because you're nobody," Letta said, about to turn around. However, Marco immediately stepped ahead of Letta and entered the room, making Letta really want to grab the man with all her might and give him a slap. At least that could make her feel a little relieved. "Your saga ends here, Letta," Letta murmured, finally resigned to enter and follow Marco to confirm her pregnancy.

Xavier and Nadira's marriage, arranged by their families, made their relationships even more complicated. Whether it was between Nadira and Xavier, Xavier and Nadira's overprotective older brother, or Nadira and Anita, all these relationships colored Xavier and Nadira's future marriage. "Has Dad gone to London?" Xavier asked, sitting right next to Nadira. Nadira nodded in response. "Yes, Dad was taken to the airport by Kenzo, and Kenzo left for the office early this morning as he had to take over the meeting that Dad was supposed to lead," Nadira explained, making Xavier nod. Xavier then took a piece of bread prepared by Nadira. For a few moments, they remained silent, until a waiter approached and handed a small piece of paper to Nadira, making both of them look towards the waiter. "What's this?" Nadira asked, and Xavier also glanced at the paper. "A message from the young master, Miss," the waiter replied, making Nadira immediately realize that it was a message from Ditrian. Nadira opened the message, which contained instructions to go to Ditrian's room where he had stored a gift. Nadira found it strange that Ditrian didn't send the message via phone, but she promptly responded. "Thank you. You may return to your duties," Nadira said, and the waiter nodded before continuing with his work. Xavier looked at the paper held by Nadira. "Your siblings seem to be very attentive," Xavier said as he took a bite of his bread. "Yes, because I'm their only sister," Nadira replied without looking at Xavier. "But your father is a bit distant and strict," Xavier added. "That's because that's just his personality," Nadira replied briefly, making Xavier gaze at her for a moment before getting up from his chair. "I'm heading straight to the office. You can go back home with the house driver, right?" Xavier asked as he adjusted his tie. "My brother asked us to stay for two more days," Nadira said, making Xavier immediately look at her with a displeased expression. "Didn't you promise that we would only stay for one day?" Xavier asked, and Nadira nodded. "Yes, initially that was the plan, but my brother suggested it would be better to stay here for a few days. Besides, he doesn't ask this of us often. Just consider it as a return favor because he has been staying at our house for a few days," Nadira said. Xavier was about to speak, but Nadira interrupted him. "If you don't like it, you can go back to Anita. I'll stay here, but I won't give my brother any reason as to why you didn't stay. He must also know that you're accompanying your first wife," Nadira said before leaving Xavier behind. Xavier rubbed his face roughly. How could he be so petty? That would surely tarnish his reputation in the eyes of his siblings. Although Xavier had no intention of being a good brother-in-law in their eyes, he still had his pride and didn't want to be looked down upon as a man.

"Will you marry me?" Axton suddenly said, causing Emily to hold her breath for a few seconds before widening her eyes. "What? Marry you?" Emily asked to confirm, making Axton nod. However, Emily burst into laughter, even though it felt awkward. "You're joking, right? This must be impossible. How could you ask me to marry you? I thought this was just a sign that you're frustrated and making impulsive decisions like this," Emily said, making Axton shake his head. "Do I look like I'm joking with such a serious face like this? Besides, it's not April Fools' Day. There's no reason for me to lie to you," Axton said, making Emily immediately stand up from her seat. "No, no, no. I think you've come to the wrong person. How could you come to your ex-wife's best friend to propose marriage? You don't want to ruin our friendship, do you?" Emily asked, making Axton sigh deeply. "Because you're the only one who can understand, and by marrying you, Grace will realize her mistake," Axton said, leaving Emily speechless. Emily didn't know whether Grace and Axton were aware of her feelings or not. What she was sure of was that, over the years, she had successfully hidden her feelings well, keeping her admiration and love for Axton, her best friend's husband, to herself. Emily didn't know when those feelings had emerged. She also didn't know why those emotions suddenly filled her heart, unstoppable and undeniable. Now, Axton had proposed to her for a clichéd reason, to make Grace divorce Ethan, and Emily had reluctantly accepted. Despite facing Grace's anger for being perceived as a traitor, Emily went along with the decision. But Emily knew that this wouldn't be smooth sailing, as she had finally set some conditions for Axton. "All right, I accept your proposal, but with a few conditions," Emily's decision marked the beginning of their love story.

Yes, us. I don't want to marry you," Luna stated, her gaze fixed on Lucas's face, devoid of expression. "So, you're going to marry the pianist then?" Lucas guessed, causing Luna to become more certain that the man in front of her was already aware of everything. "Of course. I love him, so I will marry him," Luna replied, observing Lucas's reaction carefully. "But this time, I need this marriage," Luna continued, dismissing Lucas's scoffing smile. "And?" Lucas asked. "We'll make a prenuptial agreement," Luna declared. "Do you think I'll agree?" Lucas responded dismissively. "You have to agree. Whether you like it or not, we're going to make a prenuptial agreement," Luna insisted, prompting a threatening smile from Lucas. "Luna Estrada, you're too confident. Do you think I'd agree to this marriage? I even declined it," Lucas replied, belittling her. "We're not going to make a prenuptial agreement because we're never going to get married," Lucas added, causing Luna to clench her fists as if she had been rejected by the man before her. How could Luna Estrada face rejection? She couldn't allow it to happen. "Hahahahah." Luna forced a laugh, attempting to make it sound mocking to Lucas, although at this moment, she wished she could throw her heel at Lucas's head. "Then why did your grandfather force my grandfather to persuade me to accept this marriage, huh?" Luna said with traces of laughter in her voice, emphasizing each word. "Are you serious?" Lucas asked, his face showing mockery. "Didn't you ask your grandfather who would marry you? Weren't you suspicious? Who knows, maybe your grandfather was referring to my own grandfather, trying to match us," Luna's inner thoughts raced, attempting to calm herself. "You're quite amusing, Mr. Alvarez. If it's not you who's going to marry me, then why did you come to that dinner event? Didn't you say those affectionate words to me, claiming that I was your future wife?" Luna retorted, not wanting to be outdone by Lucas. "Why did I come? Of course, to witness the performance of a couple who would part ways that night. Isn't that an enjoyable spectacle? I was afraid that if my grandfather attended himself, he wouldn't be able to bear seeing you both cry and hug each other. You know my grandfather is a soft-hearted person. Hence, I chose to replace him that night," Lucas's words provoked Luna even more. "Stop your nonsense," Luna snapped, causing Lucas to display a smug smile. Finally, Lucas managed to provoke Luna Estrada, who usually had difficulty controlling her emotions. Luna stood up from her seat, glaring at Lucas with escalating anger as he continued to smirk and taunt her.

Alpha Gray Wolfin, the future leader of the Wolf Clan, was exiled to the human world as he had not yet achieved the awakening he was meant to possess from the beginning. He was forced out of his own world and felt cast away into the human realm by the king. Little did anyone know that in his exile, Gray would eventually find his awakening and his destined mate. However, it wasn't as easy as it sounds. The differences between Gray and his soulmate created opposition within the wolf clan, and the added banner of enmity raised by their rival clan forced Gray to think and fight against it as the future leader.

I'm afraid that feeling is slowly seeping into my heart. That's an appropriate phrase on Leo's mind right now, but it turns out an alana can create a far greater fear and Leo never suspects it. "So what are we doing today?" alana said as they finished their lunch. "You can do whatever you want, but don't bother me today. "Leo answered, turning his own wheelchair, but alana in her stubbornness interrupted him. "How about you read a book in the back garden? I'll accompany you." "No." "All right, we'll go there." alana blurted out Leo's refusal. "Don't you understand the meaning of no" "You're welcome." "Hey crazy lady, stop pushing me." "No way." "You got a death wish?" Leo pissed him off

For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett. Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid. When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives. "Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself." I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together. Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company. He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life. He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire. I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer. "Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant."

For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties. But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom. Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot. Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years. "You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic." My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support. They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets. I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life. But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree. Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate. When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block.

Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast. The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan. "Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm. A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker. "Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games." The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined. Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death. Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch. Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile. Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face. Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector. He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut. Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash. She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise. But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid. "Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury." Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation. What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body?

To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears. After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms. "You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive. Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it. When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her? All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss. When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply. "Call her Aunt."

I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart. But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage. When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway. He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop. At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me. They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond. When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue. "Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?" He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests. Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died. To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around. I didn't cry, and I didn't beg. I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival. It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground.

"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." Darcy stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You're not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She stared at me in the mirror. "You can't even glance at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of gazing at that scar?" Heather Bailey got a surprise from her husband: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. She was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman. After signing the divorce papers, shockwaves caught her up. Her flower shop was burned to the ground. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers from influential families, she started her revenge on Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted, but that was just the beginning.

Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her. Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary. To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife. But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be. It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal? But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge. "Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant."

The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting. "Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes." Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind. I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba. How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow? When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE. "Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me."

On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call. He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar. In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave. But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund. They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime. I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess. The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow. Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door. This time, I didn't shed a single tear. I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street. "The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."

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?