H.Flower

Isla Carter's perfect life shattered the day she found her husband in bed with her best friend. Humiliated and discarded, she watched them marry just a month after her divorce, the world calling it true love while she was labeled a gold digger. Broken and betrayed, Isla vowed to rebuild her life-until Damien Blackwood walked in with a proposal she couldn't refuse. Marry me. Help me destroy them. Cold, ruthless, and untouchable, Damien isn't offering love-he's offering revenge. Isla knows she should say no. But when revenge is on the table, how could she resist? What begins as a game of vengeance soon becomes a dangerous dance of power, passion, and betrayal. Lines blur, feelings deepen, and just when Isla thinks she's finally won-she loses everything all over again. Three years later, Isla returns, armed with a secret that will change everything. This time, the war isn't just about revenge. It's about who really owns her heart.

Lyra Daniel, an aspiring fashion designer, is on a mission to save her sick husband, Felix Thomson. Lyra crosses paths with Dante Cooper, a billionaire heir in need of a contract wife to appease his meddling family. "I will give you $500,000 once we get married and $500,000 after the divorce is finalized," Lyra couldn't accept the deal because of her love for Felix. But when Felix finds out about the contract... "I swear to you, Lyra. I will never let you down. If you give me this second chance at life, then I promise you my life because..." Unknown to Lyra, Felix's plea is part of deception to escape their marriage. She soon finds herself trapped in Dante's world, where he and his family view her as nothing but a gold digger. Felix stopped responding to Lyra's call, knowing that there was a high possibility that Dante wouldn't pay the balance of the contract. He then reconciled with his family, leaving Lyra divorced, alone, and depressed. Dante finds out the truth, but it was too late. However, he refuses to give up on finding her. Years later, Lyra has transformed into a powerful, celebrated figure in the fashion industry. She has rebuilt her life, but the scars of betrayal run deep. Fate brings her back into the lives of both ex-husbands. Dante, now living in the same apartment building to escape his grandmother's matchmaking schemes. "That scent... it reminds me of someone I used to know," Meanwhile, Felix, driven by selfish motives, seeks to exploit Lyra again. "Lyra, we had something special. Let's not waste it," Will Lyra seize the opportunity for revenge? Or will the past pull her into deceit once more?

“What did you do to me?” She asked, taking labored breaths. “My injuries. They’re gone. How did you do that?” he asked. "Did I?” “I’m Rolf by the way. What should I call my savior?” She hesitated for a while giving him a hard look over. “Adele. You can call me Adele.” *** Adele woods, a woman with an extraordinary story and destiny she has no idea about until she saves a stranger who happened to be her mate. That led to her protection spell being broken and her long-hidden powers bursting out. Her powers drew the attention of the people of Harmony city and the king sent for her arrest. Rolf was left with no choice but to bring out his secret. To save the life of his mate, he has to show her his true form and escape with her to his pack until she is strong enough to return and uncover the secrets surrounding her birth. What will happen when Adele's best friend gets jealous of their relationship and tells the witch king about Adele's existence?

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever. He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me. My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills. Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight. Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter.

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

The silence in St. Patrick's Cathedral wasn't peaceful; it was a physical weight on Stella's shoulders, heavier than her wedding dress. She stood alone at the altar, ready for her perfect life, when her phone vibrated with a text that shattered everything. Her fiancé, Bryce, messaged just moments before the vows: "I can't do this. Monica needs me. I'm sorry." Monica, her maid of honor, was the reason he fled. Bryce's mother then publicly shamed Stella, implying her career ambition drove him away. The betrayal of her sacrifices, her future, and her dignity ignited a white-hot rage. Stella ripped off her veil, grabbed the microphone, and exposed the groom and maid of honor's affair to the stunned guests before storming out. A furious wreck in her ruined gown, she stumbled on the cathedral steps, meeting Julian Sterling, the "Cursed Son" in a wheelchair. He offered no pity, only a detached assessment. In a defiant, adrenaline-fueled moment, Stella crouched and asked, "Are you single?" Julian, needing a strategic alliance against his family, agreed to a cold, transactional marriage of convenience. With the City Clerk's office hours ticking down, Stella tore her dress, determined to forge a new path of vengeance and desperate necessity.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.

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.

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.

Sera stood at the altar, ready to renew vows with Lucas Sterling, a public declaration of their solid marriage. But in that holy silence, Lucas answered his phone, his voice booming, "Naomi? I'm coming." He then turned, eyes cold, declaring, "It's over," abandoning her mid-ceremony. The crowd gasped. His family humiliated her, calling her "trash." He then cut off all her money, stranding her in a downpour. The cruelest blow: his sister revealed Lucas had gossiped about Sera's deepest trauma-a past kidnapping-mocking her belief he was her savior. This betrayal shattered Sera's loyalty, replacing pain with cold rage. How could he expose that secret? And why did powerful Julian Thorne appear, whispering, "I've known who you are for a long time," as if privy to her past? With her last attachment severed, Sera pulled out her encrypted phone. Her voice chilling, she commanded, "Target Sterling Supply Chain. Initiate Phase One: Disruption." Her counterattack had begun.