BROKEN; REVENGE

Nancy Carter is a sharp, no-nonsense detective whose personal life is unraveling. Fresh off a breakup with her fiancé-who couldn't compete with her passion for solving crimes-she's drowning in disappointment, overlooked at work, and emotionally drained. One night, desperate to escape it all, she walks into a bar... and wakes up in a stranger's bed. She remembers his face clearly-the man she sat beside in stunned silence, trying to piece together how she ended up there. But before she could find her voice, he handed her a check with cold indifference, as if she were nothing more than a transaction, then walked out without a second glance. The real blow came weeks later-Nancy was pregnant. With no name, only the memory of his face, she braced herself for the road ahead. With the help of her family, she raised her daughter in silence. No one-not even her little girl-knew the truth. Five years later, fate plays its cruelest card. Nancy turns on the TV and sees him-Jaxon Lennox. Billionaire. CEO. The man who shattered her pride and unknowingly changed her life forever. When her family's ranch is on the line, Nancy is forced to work with the one man she swore to never face again. But hate has a way of burning into something else... and the fire between them refuses to stay buried.

"And who are you? What do you actually know about us? Did you come because you saw I was alone, because you know you are way stronger than I am? Did you come to have your way with me, because that's what I have to face in the hands of men? First it was that fat, smelly, and unkept idiot at the grocery store, then Mr. Ken, and now you!" I roared in anger. I was struggling to catch my breath and talk slowly. "Oh, so this is why you were getting all worked up. Sorry, sweetie, but I'm not even a bit interested in your body. You don't know who I am, do you?. Well, let me introduce myself. I am Damion Volk." He said it like I was supposed to know who he was. I just stared at him in total confusion. "You don't know me." He said and let out a little laugh before running his hands through his hair.He looked up to the sky as his pair of grey eyes reflected the moon. Piercing grey eyes that seem to bore into those he meets, a chiselled face with sharp angles, and a small, sly smile that hints at a mischievous sense of humour. His dark grey hair styled perfectly, framing his face with a sense of sophistication and control. His features are refined, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that speaks to his confidence and determination. But it's his eyes that truly reveal his nature-cold, calculating, and always seeming to size others up, even as they sparkle with a playful glint that suggests he's up to something. His gaze is hypnotic, drawing others in even as they sense the danger lurking beneath the surface.

Lilly was eleven when her parents were murdered. That night was supposed to be her birthday, but something unexpected happened. Lilly never understood what truly happened- all she knew was that she must keep the key safe. Her mother had handed her the key and made her swear to protect it. Lilly's brother, Michael, managed to escape with her that night, but he knew they couldn't stay together for long. After all, their father had been betrayed- by his best friend. Michael tried to keep Lilly safe, but in the end, they were separated. Lilly knew she had to protect herself. Too many people had sacrificed their lives just so she could live. But in trying to escape danger, she jumped off a cliff- and found herself on the other side of the country. There, she started a new life. But it wasn't what she had hoped it would be. She thought Michael would come for her, just like he had promised. But he never came. Eleven years passed. Lilly still held on to the hope that Michael would return- but he never did. Then one day, an opportunity showed up at her doorstep. She didn't hesitate. She agreed to marry the famous lawyer, Eric Sarton, just so she could find the people who had murdered her parents. But little did she know-her whole life was about to change.

She looked so young, what was she doing inside the cave of the curse? She was just a child , how was she able to pass the spell placed at the door? She walked up to me, raising her small tiny hand to touch me. I back away immediately glaring at her thinking that it will scare her away. "It's okay, you don't have to be scared. Am not going to hurt you. My name is Elena and I am six years old, what's your name?" She asked, smiling at me. Why would the moon goddess let a six year old Inside a beast cave? Is she trying to test me? "You don't have a name? Then I will call you Snow since you look so white and beautiful as the snow" she said, reaching out to touch me again. Then something caught my attention, she was wearing the moon necklace, the only thing that consists of the power that can let me out of here. I tried moving close to her but the chain around my neck was preventing me. I started drawing back and she followed me in, she was just one step away from me. Is time for me to get away from this pit of hell. Once she was closer to me I pounced on her. Her scream filled the cave, but all I wanted was my freedom, my revenge. Am going to destroy the world, I will burn it down.

"But why won't you kiss me back, wait don't tell me I didn't meet the standard of the girls you kiss and make out with" "Brianna your hand is bleeding come let's stop it and cover up that wound" there is no way am having this conversation with her. "I don't want to cover wounds, I want you to answer my question?" "Brianna please drop it you are playing with fire"

"Amber stay away from me, or I may hurt you" "No you won't hurt me, i trust you" "Am not who you think I am" he said "I know who exactly you are, never push me away cause you are stuck with me, forever"

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

For three years, Natalie gave everything to be the perfect wife and mother, believing her love and effort could finally earn her a place in their hearts. Yet her sacrifices were met with betrayal from her husband and cold rejection from her son. In their eyes, she was nothing but a manipulator, using vulnerability to get her way. Her husband turned his back, her son misunderstood her, and she never truly belonged. Heartbroken yet determined, Natalie left her old life behind. When her family finally begged for a second chance, she looked at them and said, "It's too late."