Ting Er Xiao Ling

I was the chief consigliere of the Romano family, and I was secretly carrying the heir for my husband, Julian. But at a celebratory dinner, I saw my adopted sister actually seducing him. It turned out they had been sleeping together behind my back for a long time. When I confronted him, he gave the most ridiculous excuse. "I was drunk, the lights were too dim, I really thought it was you." Not only did he fail to make up for his mistakes, but he also stripped me of my power and gave my exclusive office to her. Because of the mess she made, a grieving widow attacked me with a hunting knife. When the cold blade pierced my abdomen, I dialed Julian's emergency number, but it went unanswered, like a stone dropping into the ocean. He was busy fooling around with my sister, with no time to answer the phone. When I woke up, I learned in the clinic that I had lost my child forever. While he wept outside my ward door, begging for my forgiveness, even willing to give me millions to make me stay, I calmly asked the doctor for a pen. I signed a permanent exile contract. I would build my own empire in this wasteland.

On our third anniversary, I spent hours cooking my husband's favorite meal, waiting for him to come home. Instead of a greeting, I overheard him and his mother in the living room, planning to evict me. He was an A-list actor, and I was his secret wife—a "failed PR investment" they now wanted to erase with a $250,000 NDA. He told me my trailer-park background was a stain dragging his career down. Later, when I suffered a severe allergic reaction to a sleeping pill and nearly died, he didn't care. He stormed into my hospital room, accused me of faking a suicide attempt for attention, and called my late mother a pathetic drunk. Even the arrogant ER doctor treated me like a desperate, hysterical housewife wasting medical resources. I gave up three years of my life to be his unpaid maid and his shadow, only to be thrown away like garbage. But what my husband didn't know was that the mysterious, top-tier creator "Xen" he was desperately trying to sign a life-changing deal with to save his career... was actually me. I ripped the IV out of my arm, bleeding onto the hospital floor, and smiled at him. "I'm going to watch you fall." I hired the most ruthless divorce lawyer in LA to take half his fortune, and quietly canceled his dream contract. This time, I'm going to watch his gilded life burn to the ground.

Idella's mother was dying in the ICU, needing a two-million-dollar deposit within forty-eight hours for a lifesaving surgery. Desperate, she begged her billionaire husband, Fount, for an advance on her own trust fund. Instead, he tossed her a hundred-thousand-dollar check for "funeral expenses," fired her from his company, and seized her life's research. He froze all her bank accounts, leaving her unable to even pay the vet bills after their five-year-old surrogate son nearly drowned her dog. When she tried to stop the boy, Fount threatened to have her dying mother thrown onto the street unless she bowed her head and apologized to the child. Stripped of her dignity and money, Idella dragged herself to Fount's private office, only to overhear a conversation through the cracked door. Inside, Fount was intimately holding his adopted sister, Angelita. "But Austin is our flesh and blood, Fount. He can't keep calling that barren loser 'Mom' in public." Idella's universe shattered. She was nothing but a pathetic shield to cover up their incestuous affair, and her severe infertility diagnosis had been a complete lie orchestrated by Fount's doctor. Three years of a sham marriage crushed her soul, but the absolute despair quickly morphed into a freezing knot of hatred. Just as she hit rock bottom, her phone buzzed with a call from Fount's biggest corporate rival, offering her a five-million-dollar signing bonus. Idella took off her diamond wedding ring, ready to burn the Fitzgerald empire to the ground.

I signed a prenuptial agreement with a cold-blooded Wall Street predator just to unlock my trust fund and fight my greedy stepmother. We were nothing more than legal roommates bound by a strict three-year contract. But to survive the corporate war at my family's company, I skipped my mandatory university finance class and paid a guy to answer the roll call for me. The stand-in was immediately caught and kicked out by the notoriously ruthless new professor. That night at dinner, I complained to my contract husband about the professor. "He's an unreasonable, arrogant dictator who gets off on torturing his students," I complained bitterly. My husband just calmly cut my steak and listened as I bragged about how I was going to fake-cry and manipulate the professor the next morning. I even rushed to the faculty office the next day and performed a desperate, tearful apology to an elderly man I assumed was the tyrant. I thought I had perfectly balanced my corporate war and my academic life. I thought I had fooled everyone. But when I confidently sat in the front row of the massive lecture hall, the heavy wooden doors pushed open. The terrifying new professor walked onto the podium and aggressively wrote his name on the chalkboard: Elliot Dillard. It was my contract husband. He looked down at me with cold, merciless authority, knowing every single lie I had told, and slowly called my name.

Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile. He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife. But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir." He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator. He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb. Julian, you will never see your child. I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you. From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.

Barrett handed me a Montblanc pen and a legal document, his voice as cold as the rain lashing against his Tribeca penthouse. He told me to sign an admission of guilt for an SEC violation I never committed. "Eighteen months in prison, Anaya," he said, adjusting his cufflinks without looking at me. "The trust fund is set up. You'll get twenty million dollars the moment you step out." I was being sold. The man I had loved for ten years, the man whose secrets I had kept, was trading my freedom to save his merger with Adele Townsend. He had scrubbed the digital logs of Adele’s illegal trades and pinned everything on me. When I refused, he didn't see my heartbreak; he only saw a malfunction in a business transaction. "Do not speak her name," he hissed when I mentioned Adele’s fraud. "This merger is bigger than you." He forced the pen into my hand, calling me dramatic while his security guards dragged me to a locked bedroom to "cool down." I spent three days parched and starving, listening to the muffled sound of champagne corks popping down the hall. They were celebrating my destruction. My heart finally gave out in that luxury cage, the darkness swallowing me as I realized I was nothing more than a disposable asset to him. I died in that room, alone and betrayed by the person I trusted most. How could he do this? How could a decade of loyalty be worth less than a stock price? Why did I let him treat me like a sacrificial lamb for so long? GASP. I shot up in bed, my lungs burning, but I wasn't in the penthouse. I was in my old, peeling Brooklyn apartment, and the date on my phone was May 12th—three years ago. My phone buzzed with a text from Barrett: "Where are you? Bring the Townsend files. Now." A cold, cruel smile touched my lips as I typed the reply that would start his nightmare. "I quit."

They told me one of them would be my husband. Seven men, groomed by my father to be part of our music empire. I only ever wanted one: Devon Valenzuela, the band's brilliant, brooding lead singer. But the night I caught him kissing his "sister," Delilah, I learned the devastating truth. The seven of them weren't rivals for my hand; they were a pack, united in a secret pact to protect her. I was just a variable in their game. They orchestrated "accidents" to keep me dependent-a near-miss in the studio, a fall from my horse that left me with a broken leg. Devon played the part of the doting fiancé perfectly, nursing me back to health. Then I overheard him confessing to another band member. "It was the only way to get her attention," he said. "The bone breaking… that was an accident. Not part of the plan." At my 21st birthday party, he humiliated me by broadcasting a video of my most private confessions of love for him to all our guests. But he didn't know I had a video of my own-one that would expose his precious Delilah and tear their entire world apart.

Five years ago, my fiancé, Carter, left me at the altar. My sister, Camilla, framed me, and my own parents helped brand me a promiscuous woman who got pregnant by a stranger. Abandoned and shamed, I was left to raise my son, Leo, alone, surviving three suicide attempts and a complete mental breakdown. Now, Carter is back. He's obsessed, convinced Leo is his son, and is trying to take him from me. He even used a DNA test to prove Leo isn't my biological child, pushing me back to the edge of insanity. When my sister tried to disfigure me with acid, I finally fought back. I slapped my parents, severing ties with the family that used and abused me. But the truth was far more twisted than I ever imagined. Carter's mother confessed everything-the lies, the manipulation, the real reason he abandoned me. He destroyed his own career in an act of penance, but it was too late. Because the man who saved me, the man who stood by me through it all, had loved me in secret for years. And I was finally ready to see him.

Sunlight hit my face, but I woke to a room I didn' t know, a smiling couple in a picture on the nightstand-strangers. Panic built. Then, a man from the picture walked in, tray in hand. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he said. He was my husband, Ethan, and my name was Ava, but it meant nothing. My memory reset every night, a rare amnesia, he explained. Then, one evening, it happened. My memory didn' t reset. I remembered everything: his assistant Chloe, their too-familiar glances, and their cruel whispers in his office. "It's convenient," he' d said. "She doesn't remember. I can do whatever I want." He saw me as a broken toy, his "perfect arrangement." I ran, lost in a city that was supposed to be home. When I returned, defeated, Chloe was on my sofa, wine in hand, acting like she owned the place. "Where else would you go?" she purred. Ethan, instead of concern, was annoyed. When I dared to demand a divorce, he grabbed me, threatening. He coerced me into kneeling before Chloe, forcing me to apologize. Then, she slapped me. He watched. The monster had built his life on my disability, isolating me, delighting in my helplessness. He had convinced my parents I needed isolation, turning me into a commodity. He didn' t just exploit me; he maintained my torment. How could he be so cruel? But then, a secret journal, hidden by a past self, revealed everything. He hadn't just used me; he was enabling my condition. The realization was sickening. I was trapped, but this time, the truth was burned into my mind. I knew I had to escape.

The air in the Las Vegas hotel choked with stale champagne and failure. My fiancé, Mark, slumped at the poker table, surrounded by his smirking cousins, Kevin and Brian. A fortune in chips piled before them. Mark' s pile was empty. My heart sank when Kevin announced the amount: "One hundred and eighty thousand dollars." That was my dowry, a fund for our future, our new home. Mark' s mother, Brenda, cornered me, her voice sharp. "You need to fix this, Sarah. It' s a family debt. You have the money. Pay it." My blood ran cold. She wanted my dowry to cover a reckless gambling debt. Mark wouldn' t even look at me, a pathetic man playing for sympathy. "Brenda, that' s… that' s everything we have," I stammered. "What kind of life will you have if your husband is in debt to his own family?" she countered. "Pay it, Sarah. It' s the only way." I looked at Mark, begging him with my eyes to defend us. He just shook his head, a weak gesture of defeat. The pressure was crushing, a trap closing in. My hand trembled as I reached for my purse, numb with shock and a twisted sense of duty. Then, a line of text shimmered in the air, a translucent pop-up. "Kevin and Brian are exchanging triumphant glances. They are predators who just cornered their prey." I blinked, shaking my head, but it was still there. Then another: "Brenda' s eyes are fixed on your purse, gleaming with anticipation, like a hawk watching a mouse." The fog in my brain cleared. This wasn' t tragic loss. This was a performance. A carefully planned scam to steal my money. Seven years of love, crumbling in an instant. The man I was to marry was a conspirator, his mother the mastermind. The devastation felt physical, but a cold, hard anger began to rise. They thought I was a fool. They were wrong. My hand became perfectly steady. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of betrayal. "No," I said, the single word cutting through the tension.

I spent my entire childhood as one-third of an inseparable trio: "EOM Forever." That meant a built-in future, headed to UCLA with my best friends, Olivia and Maya. And by college, I was supposed to choose which of them I' d pledge my heart to. But as my cursor hovered over the UCLA "Submit" button, thinking about that pact, triumph was replaced by a chilling sense of surrender. Instead, on a whim, I clicked "Confirm Enrollment" for Yale. It wasn't just a different school; it was an escape route. Because for months, our tight-knit world had been invaded by Liam Spencer, a charming new transfer. He charmed Olivia and Maya, and then effortlessly pushed me to the sidelines. My messages in our group chat became sparse, often ignored, as their plans revolved around him. Liam's "accidents" were always strangely convenient – a spilled glass of red wine on my laptop, a sudden "fainting spell" right before graduation. And every time, Olivia and Maya leaped to his defense, dismissing my feelings. "It's just a sweatshirt, Ethan," Olivia chided when Liam wore mine. "He needs it more," Maya chimed in, with a heart emoji. The ultimate betrayal came on Decision Day: Liam pushed me, cracking my head open on a stone planter. Even then, as I lay in the hospital, Olivia and Maya pled for his forgiveness, calling him "tormented." How could they be so blind? My childhood best friends had become total strangers, enabling a manipulative narcissist, turning my life into a living hell. I was done being their afterthought, their punching bag. Leaving them behind wasn't just a decision; it was a desperate declaration of war for my own life. But letting go of "EOM Forever" meant they wouldn't let go of me. Not Olivia, not Maya, and certainly not Liam.

Scarlett's world turned upside down when the man she sacrificed everything to betrayed her and let her die as she lay gasping in a pool of blood. However, her final moments of hatred did not turn out to be her last ones, as she found herself reborn two years ago. She vowed to avenge herself but was thrown off track after crossing paths with the city's most powerful man. Discover a winding tale of love, heartbreak, revenge, and drama.

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