Renan Gedorio

"Love, let's go to the park." I went down the stairs, filled with hope, and approached Cloud, hoping for a softer response. "Please, Luna, can you stop this? And don't call me 'love'-I don't love you. Ours is just an arranged marriage, and maybe you've forgotten that you're the reason Stella and I broke up." "Is it my fault, Cloud? I'm a victim too. Do you think I wanted to be tied to a man I don't even love? I'm struggling just as much as you are, Cloud." My voice trembled, pleading for his understanding. "Why don't you just leave me? Oh, right, because you won't have anyone to leech off of if you leave me." He laughed, but his every sneer was filled with anger, especially when our eyes met. "You have no right to say that, Cloud! I've never asked you for money!" I shouted back, holding onto what little dignity I had left. "I'm getting the divorce papers finalized today, and you need to sign them as soon as possible. I can't stand seeing your face every day." But the truth was, every word he said felt like a knife cutting into my heart. "C-Cloud, maybe we can still talk about this." I reached for his hand, still hoping there was a chance, but he pulled it away. "What's there to talk about? Isn't it clear that I don't want you and that I don't love you?" His voice thundered through the mansion, his words like a storm shattering my world. "Right, you don't love me." I laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. I looked at him, trying to hide my tears. "You know, Cloud, I wanted to stay by your side until you learned to love me. But I can't, because you've already given up on us. Yes, you don't love me because I'm the reason you and Stella broke up." "Cloud, I studied how to love you. I admit, at first, I didn't want to be with you. But I couldn't help it. Slowly, I started falling for you, and I foolishly thought that maybe one day, you'd learn to love me too. But no, I was wrong. I just wanted to be loved by you, Cloud, but you denied me even that. My chest felt heavy, and trembling, I stepped back." "You know, I dreamed of you loving me the way you loved Stella. But I guess that's impossible." I laughed again, but this time, it was empty, filled only with sadness and pain. "There's no point in forcing myself on you anymore. Maybe I've suffocated you so much that you're begging for your freedom. I'm sorry for being the reason you and Stella broke up. Don't worry, I'll talk to her." I forced a smile, even as I felt myself breaking inside. "Since your birthday is coming up, my gift to you is my signature on the divorce papers. Just call me when they're ready. I'll start packing." Once inside my room, I collapsed to my knees, letting the tears I'd been holding back flow freely. "Why does it always have to be like this? I just wanted to feel his love..." After I finished packing, I went down the stairs. I found Cloud in the living room, standing with his back to me. "Ah, Cloud, I'm leaving now. Just call me when the divorce papers are ready. Thank you for everything, Cloud." I forced a smile and walked out of the mansion, carrying the feelings I wanted to bury but couldn't let go of. "You're free now, Cloud. You can be with Stella. Even though it hurts, I'll endure it. I took a deep breath. This time, I won't beg for your love."

In my world, if you're weak, you're done for. I refused to be one of the weak, so I committed myself to intense training to become stronger. I pushed my limits, sharpened my skills, and believed that I could overcome any challenge. But in the end, I died... trying to help someone weak. Or at least, that's what I thought. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar place. And soon, the truth hit me: I had been reincarnated.

"P-please d-don't," I said to him fearfully. "Uh huh, let me enjoy tonight, baby," he whispered in my ear. Tears streamed down my face as my body trembled from his presence. I never wanted to wear this to our prom. I didn't choose this. I should have refused back then so none of this would have happened. I knew he'd be angry seeing me in this outfit, but we ran out of time, so I couldn't argue anymore. "Please, Kairus, d-don't, s-stop, please," I begged him. "Shhh, don't test my patience, baby. You know what I can do, right?" he grinned. "N-no, p-please," I cried. "The more you beg, the more I want you," he smirked. He's Kairus Jei Styles, the son of the owner of my school, and he's the bad boy everyone fears. He has friends who are also feared at Styles University. He's the man who raped me and turned my four years in their school into a living hell. I'm Allysiah Quin De Villa, and I was 17 years old when Kairus took control of my life. He was 20 at the time, and I later discovered that he was a terrifying psycho bad boy.

"You are not my child. "You don't belong in this family! "trash!" "Gross!" "What a disappointment!" "Ugly and trash!" "You're disgusting!" "You don't belong in this school, b*tch!" I let out a deep sigh as I recalled the hurtful words they hurled at me. Whether at home or school, it was the same—nothing but pain was brought upon me. "Why is the world so unfair to me?" This was the question I always asked God. Why was I born into this world only to suffer? All I wanted was to be loved—to be happy—so why does it seem like everything is denied to me? I don't understand why it feels like the world is playing a cruel trick on me, intentionally keeping me from getting what I desire. I sighed again. "I hope in my next life, I will be happy." I forced a smile, hiding the deep pain that lingered within me. I could never have imagined that everyone would be so cruel to me, that I would experience such hardship. I placed my hands on the concrete while gazing at the vast surroundings and the students scattered around. I had been sitting here on the railing of our school building's rooftop for some time. This is where I come whenever I'm sad or when everyone bullies me. I sighed once more and looked up at the sky. "Lord, was I a bad person in my past life? Because the world is so cruel to me." Was I truly bad? Or is it just the people around me who are? No one treated me well. Everyone hates me. I have no friends or even anyone I can call 'family.' Do I deserve to live in this world? I placed my hands on the concrete again to support myself as I stood up. "I'm tired of everything. I want this to end." I looked down. My knees trembled as I realized how high up I was. If I fall from here, I will surely leave this world forever. "Maybe if I die, they will be happy," I whispered sadly as I closed my eyes, recalling the faces of all those who caused me so much pain. Tears streamed from my eyes. I felt trapped in a never-ending cycle of torment, reliving the painful experiences over and over again. I've had enough. I'm tired. Maybe it's time to rest... forever. "To end this pain is to finish everything," I whispered again, opening my eyes and slowly stepping onto the edge of the railing. "Goodby—" I was about to fall when suddenly someone forcefully grabbed my hand, causing me to land on top of someone's body. I recognized the familiar scent of his perfume. I quickly stood up as I realized who it was. It's him again... The guy who became my tormentor, making my life even more miserable. "You should have just let me go. Isn't that what you—and everyone—want? For me to disappear from this world," I said lifelessly. His face remained blank, showing no emotion as he looked at me. "Tsk!" I was startled when he suddenly closed the distance between us and spoke coldly into my ear, "If you want to die, wait for me to be the one... to end your life." Then, he immediately turned his back on me. I don't know why, but a surge of intense anger suddenly welled up in my heart because of what he said. The sadness I felt moments ago was instantly replaced with rage. My face suddenly became devoid of emotion. "Oh, is that so?" I said, colder than ice, which made him stop walking. "Alright," I continued, quickly removing my heeled shoe and throwing it at him with all my might, hitting him squarely on the head. I quickly walked toward him and confronted his shocked face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," I said, cold as ice, but dripping with sarcasm. After saying that, I picked up my shoe and swiftly turned my back on him.

In a dark and cold room, someone was sitting in a corner, trembling intensely from the chilly breeze, accompanied by soft sobs and the quiet fall of tears. The door opened, revealing the person who had locked them in that room, though they didn't know why. Their face lifted, and their eyes immediately met, causing them to shrink further into the corner, continuing to cry. "Please, don't hurt me," they pleaded, their voice trembling with each word. Their body trembled even more as the person they feared slowly approached. The person lifted their face with a gentle left hand. Their face was pitiful, with slightly flushed cheeks and nose. Their innocent, delicate face, more beautiful than a woman's, was flushed from the cold, as they had developed a fever. The man could no longer bear it and immediately lifted them up. They were slightly startled but lacked the strength to resist, their body too weak from the fever. "Supremo..." they softly whispered before losing consciousness. Supremo quickly brought them to his room, immediately changing and treating them, laying them on his soft bed. He gazed at the innocent face of the young one, and only one thought crossed his mind: "I will mark you as mine."

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister. I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood. My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy—The Nightingale Ranch—as collateral to his powerful family. "Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered. Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land. My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother? I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear. But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me. Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now."

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.

I woke up married to a stranger. Not just any stranger. Garrick Sinclair-the cold, ruthless captain of the Chicago Mustangs, the man every woman in Chicago dreamed of and every sensible woman stayed away from. I didn't remember marrying him. I didn't even remember sleeping with him. Yet there was a diamond ring on my finger, a marriage certificate beside the bed, and Garrick looking at me like I was nothing more than another gold digger trying to get her hands on his money. He offered me cash to disappear. I wanted nothing from him except the truth. But then his adoptive father died, leaving behind a shocking condition for Garrick's inheritance: He had to be married. Suddenly, the marriage neither of us remembered became the only thing protecting his family's billion-dollar empire. Then my mother was murdered. I came home to find her dead among the roses she loved, only to wake up in a police station as the prime suspect. My home was a crime scene. My mother was gone. And I had nowhere left to turn. Except the husband who had once wanted me gone. Garrick got me out of jail and pulled me into his world. But the closer we became, the stranger everything felt. Whenever he touched me, he remembered things he had forgotten. A locked room. A terrified little boy. A girl in a pink dress. And a promise made in the dark. I thought my marriage to Garrick was the worst mistake of my life. Now I'm starting to wonder if it was the one thing that was never a mistake at all. Because I may not be a stranger to Garrick Sinclair. I may be the missing piece of his darkest memory. And someone has already killed once to make sure we never remember the truth.

I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce. Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence. When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway. They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher. "And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop." The revelation chilled me to the bone. My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault. It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted. I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city. One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged. But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man. It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage.

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family. But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her. She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return. Until now. Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything. She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding. What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him?

I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.

Two years ago, a tragic accident shattered two families. Emma was behind the wheel the day fate upended Damien's world. She lost her parents; he lost his wife. And little Luca, Damien's son, lost something irreplaceable: his voice. Since that fateful day, Damien had built a fortress of cold indifference, vowing to never forgive the people he held responsible. What he didn't anticipate was that fate would place one of them directly under his roof. Driven by desperation to save her sister, who was gravely ill, Emma was forced to accept an exploitative employment contract. As Luca's nanny, she must live in the mansion of the man who had every reason to despise her. What began as a contract signed under duress quickly morphed into a dangerous web. Damien desired Emma with an intensity that defied reason, unaware that she was the cause of the past tragedy. And when the truth came to light, Damien must make a choice: cling to the hatred that fueled him... or accept that love might rise from the ruins of devastation.