Rutledge Shepp

I woke up in a strange body, only to find myself being violently laced into a blood-red wedding dress. The Ashford family had finally remembered their abandoned daughter, but only to use me as a disposable substitute. They were forcing me to marry the terrifying Prince Regent in place of their precious darling, Seraphina. The Prince was rumored to be a cursed, crippled monster who had already outlived three dead brides. Everyone knew this wasn't a wedding; it was a brutal death sentence. When I confronted my "father," he coldly told me it was my duty to sacrifice my life so his real daughter could marry the Crown Prince. They thought I was just a weak, useless pawn they could ship off like cattle. They expected me to cry, beg, and accept my tragic fate. But I wasn't that timid girl anymore. I smiled at my so-called father and held out two fingers. "Alright, I'll marry him." I watched their faces pale as my smile widened. "But not for free. Two hundred thousand gold lions." After extorting my own family, I took the carriage to the Prince's castle, where they tried to humiliate me by making me enter through a tiny servant's door. Instead of submitting, I walked over to a thousand-pound marble gargoyle statue by the main entrance. I ripped off my veil, lifted the massive stone beast with my bare hands, and smashed the heavy iron gates to splinters. "Go tell your master his bride has arrived." I let the words sink into the dead silence. "And if he doesn't open this gate, I will tear it down myself."

Elva used a spare key card to quietly enter the hotel penthouse, only to find her boyfriend of two years panting heavily on the king-sized bed with her own cousin. Instead of showing remorse, her cousin shamelessly mocked her background, while her ex aggressively lunged at her to destroy the photographic evidence she had just captured. "You think you can just walk away? Warren already made the deal. By next week, you're being shipped off to marry that fifty-two-year-old crippled freak from the Ramirez family!" Her ex spat the words to threaten her, and the nightmare only escalated when Elva returned to her uncle's estate, where Warren confirmed he was indeed selling her off for a business connection. Her family eagerly joined the abuse, threatening to permanently freeze her late mother's trust fund and even plotting to secretly drug her morning milk so she couldn't fight back when the groom's family arrived. They looked at her like a pathetic, orphaned burden they could bleed dry, fully expecting her to drop to her knees, cry, and accept her miserable fate without a single word of defiance. But they had no idea that just hours ago, Elva had already signed a marriage certificate with Bronson Ramirez, the undisputed billionaire king of the dynasty, and she was stepping into the living room ready to watch their greedy world burn.

My husband's affair pushed me into the arms of his partner, Cole. For three years, he was the perfect, doting husband. I thought I had finally found my happy ending. Then I overheard a phone call and my world collapsed. Our marriage was a lie. I was just a pawn, a tool to keep me docile while his true love secured my ex-husband. He had me brutally beaten, forced me to abort our child, and publicly stripped me in front of hundreds of his colleagues. His final act of cruelty was forcing me to give blood to save the woman who destroyed me, leaving me for dead on the hospital floor. But he made one fatal mistake: he trusted the wrong person to handle our marriage papers. Three years later, I returned as the new Chief Liaison Officer for the International Police. And the first faces I saw at my welcome conference were his and my ex-husband's.

I am the last surviving Rossi, a hostage kept alive solely to be a breeding vessel for the rival Falcone mafia family. The Underboss's wife, Cecile, stripped me bare, slapped me fiercely, and forced me into black lace to warm her husband's bed. "You are nothing but a temporary container to breed the heir I cannot give my husband." She planned to steal my future child and dispose of me the moment I served my purpose. In this ruthless estate, her maids and Damien's mistresses mocked me constantly, waiting for the dirty Rossi leftover to be discarded like trash. I remembered my family begging for mercy right before they were slaughtered by Falcone soldiers. Submission in their world only meant a faster execution. Why should I just accept my fate as a disposable incubator while the monsters who ruined my bloodline paraded as untouched royalty? Instead of cowering, I mercilessly rubbed my bruised cheek until it turned a vicious purple, biting my lip until it bled. I walked into Damien's study, looking the ruthless Underboss dead in the eye. "Cecile can give him a name, but I will give him a spine." When Damien saw my ruined face and heard my defiance, the cold monster finally snapped. He didn't just protect his property; he publicly stripped his wife of her power, banished his mistresses, and locked the family's reigning sapphires around my neck. Cecile thought she was sending me to the slaughterhouse, but she had just handed me the throne.

I was once the untouchable heiress to the Schroeder empire, until a corporate fraud conviction stripped away my life and threw me into federal prison for five brutal years. On the day of my release, I stepped out into the freezing rain only to realize I had been utterly abandoned by everyone I loved. My family sent no one. My former best friends blocked my number, and high-society women took photos of my shivering, pathetic state for laughs. To survive, I made a desperate deal to act as the fake fiancée of Kayden Washington, a ruthless, disgraced billionaire fighting his own blood. But the moment we joined forces, the nightmare escalated. Our safehouse was ransacked, we were hunted by tactical hitmen in the dark, and my adoptive brother stole my dead mother's diary just to bribe me into leaving New York forever. Worse, the digital trail of my framing traced back to a top-tier operative manipulating both our families from the shadows. I didn't understand why my own family had sacrificed me like a worthless pawn to ignite a massive, invisible war. What dark secret was I actually taking the fall for? Just as Kayden and I prepared to burn both empires to the ground, a mysterious courier dropped a package at my door. Inside rested the Schroeder Patriarch's solid gold ring—the ultimate symbol of absolute power—sent directly to me, the disgraced exile. "They took your past, but I will give you the power to forge a new future." The game hadn't just changed. The board had been flipped, and I was going back to take the throne.

I was a Mafia Princess, and he was the gutter rat I tried to make a King. On our wedding day, with five hundred guests watching, Luca Moretti didn't say his vows. Instead, after receiving a photo of a secret child, he looked at me with panic and backed away from the altar. "I can't do this," he announced to the silent church. "She's here. She'll ruin the kid." He chose a waitress and their illegitimate daughter over me. He walked out, leaving me humiliated in a dress that cost more than most people's lives. Forty-eight hours later, he married her. He gave the waitress my ring, my future, and his name, all to protect a child he had hidden from me. When I confronted him weeks later, he looked at me with cold eyes and told me he did it for honor. He destroyed me to save them, convinced I would fade away into the background. He thought he could break a Vitiello and not pay the price. Five years later, I returned to Chicago. The gala went silent as I walked in, wearing blood-red silk. Luca approached me, eyes full of regret, begging for a second chance, claiming his marriage to the waitress was a mistake. He thought he could win me back. Until a little girl ran into the room—my daughter. And behind her walked my husband. Not a soldier, but the Reaper himself, Dante Cavallaro. Luca’s face turned pale as he realized the truth. He had left me at the altar to play father, but I had married the Devil to become a Queen.

My wedding was three days away when the police told me my fiancé, David Reed, was dead, lost to the sea in a hiking accident. Just like that, I became a pregnant widow, my world turning gray. Then, David' s older brother, Mark Reed, returned from Africa. When I saw him, the resemblance to David was shocking, a ghost in my living room with a slightly deeper voice. I found myself staring, haunted by his presence. One night, the baby kicking, I overheard voices from the study. It was David' s laugh. My blood ran cold, and I crept closer, the door ajar. "You have to be more careful, David. She almost looked at you funny today," Eleanor whispered. "Relax, Mom. She' s a wreck," David sneered, his voice dripping with confidence. My grief was a joke. He had faked his death for Aisha, a mistress he planned to return to once her supposed terminal illness ran its course. I was a backup plan, a safety net. His mother, the woman who had held me while I cried, was in on the disgusting lie. The pain in my abdomen intensified, a physical manifestation of my agony. I stumbled back to my room, locking the door. My brother Chris called, saying I' d sent a blank text. I heard Aisha' s soft giggle in the hall. She was here, in my house, looking healthy and triumphant. Her eyes met mine through the crack in the door, a cruel, deliberate look that said, "I have him. You have nothing." My mind went blank with rage, then settled into a chilling calm. The game was on.

The phone felt heavy in my hand, a cold, dead weight. It had been a year since I last heard her voice, a year of silence that felt like a lifetime. My doctor' s words echoed in my head: "Glioblastoma, stage four. I' m sorry, Ethan. We' re talking months, maybe less." I called her, my thumb hovering over the button. "Happy wedding day," I said, pushing the words out. "And the second thing… you once promised that you' d carry my coffin after I die." The line went dead. A week after that promise, Olivia had left me. "I never loved you, Ethan," she had said, her face a mask of indifference. Her words broke me more than the illness ever could. That' s why I was in Zurich, in a sterile room, scheduled to end my life tomorrow. But then I saw her, by the lake, skipping stones, just like we used to. As I took a step towards her, a man came up, wrapping his arm around her waist. Liam Stone. "Olivia' s fiancé," he said, extending a hand. "We' re actually getting married tomorrow." My death day would be her wedding day. The universe had a sick sense of humor. I fled, only to stumble into the path of an oncoming tram. Olivia saved me, pulling me back. But as she pulled me up, her sleeve rode up, and I saw it: a silver bracelet, engraved with "L.S." She had been with him while we were still together. My life, my love, my everything, was a lie. "I' m dying," I told her, hoarse. "I have a brain tumor." Her facade cracked. Then, she asked me for a favor. "I need you to take the photos, Ethan. Just for the ceremony." I agreed, on one condition: "I want a photo. Just one. Of you and me. Together." She agreed, then immediately abandoned me for Liam. At the wedding, she used my origami stars, our special date on her new wedding ring. "It never meant anything, Ethan," she said, her eyes cold. "It was never real." I was numb. I left, heading back to the clinic, my fate sealed. Then, a text from Liam: We could use an extra hand with some last-minute wedding preparations. He was trying to buy my compliance, to turn my final day into a transaction. Fine, I replied. I didn' t know why I agreed. Maybe I needed to burn the image of her happiness into my brain so I could finally let go.

We were two weeks away from our wedding, a culmination of seven years I' d poured into supporting Nicole' s dream. Then, she dropped a bomb: she was going to be a surrogate for Ryan, her deceased mentor' s manipulative son, because "he needed this." She left me stranded at a funeral in a storm, prioritized his emotional needs over my life-threatening allergy, and when I faced a high fever alone, she quietly packed an overnight bag to go stay with him. Each abandonment was a calculated betrayal, a casual cruelty that ripped through my heart, leaving me invisible and discarded. I looked at her, at the woman who had systematically erased my worth, and realized: my future, my very existence, meant absolutely nothing to her. So I wrote a desperate Instagram post: "Wedding in two weeks. Need a new bride. Any takers?" My phone buzzed, and an unknown number with a Seattle area code changed everything.

We were the Hale brothers, Liam and Ethan, groomed to inherit an empire of power and influence. Our upcoming engagement dinner wasn't just a celebration; it was the strategic alliance that would cement our dynasty. But on the eve of that pivotal night, a blinding flash, a screech, and a brutal car crash threw us into a living nightmare. I saw it all with horrifying clarity: our future, laid bare. Our names, smeared across every screen as traitors. Our father' s empire, dissolving into dust. And leading the charge? Our fiancées, Ava and Chloe, their faces masks of cold righteousness as they delivered soul-crushing lies to federal investigators, all orchestrated by Julian, their hidden puppet master. Ava accusing me of illegal server access, Chloe claiming Ethan's desperation. Two unforgivable lies, whispered by the women we loved, fueled by a shadow. The memory of a gun in my hand, Ethan's shot, then my own – the only escape from prison – was an unbearable weight. Then, a gasp. The smell of antiseptic. Waking in a hospital bed, Ethan beside me, his eyes wide with the same shared horror. The nurse smiled brightly: "Just in time for your family dinner tonight!" The engagement dinner. Our last chance. Not fools this time.

My father arranged my marriage to Liam, the man I' d secretly loved for a decade. But on our wedding night, Liam, seeing only a gilded cage and forced manipulation, turned his back, muttering, "You got what you wanted, Ava." He fled overseas for three years, leaving me to raise our daughter, Grace, alone. He returned with his ex-girlfriend Chloe and her daughter Skylar. Liam shamelessly favored Skylar, explicitly neglecting Grace, even re-gifting Chloe's old scarf to me. Confirmation of his true life came from a public video where he boasted of "peak happiness" with Chloe and her child. My heart, once foolishly hopeful, shattered into ice. The man I loved was a brutal illusion; the one in that video, smiling with another's child, was real. How could he be so utterly cruel to his own flesh and blood, treating me merely as a disposable burden? The final snap came when Grace suffered a severe allergic reaction. Liam, however, prioritized Skylar' s minor heat rash, diverting critically needed specialists. As Grace gasped, her innocent whisper, "Mommy, if Daddy likes Skylar more, it's okay. I just need you," ignited an unbreakable resolve. He would never hurt her again.

Caleb served as an assistant for four years and a canary for three years. I never thought I could walk out of that villa that imprisoned me. Nathan, the poor school grass with disabled legs, returned after six years abroad and successfully defeated the Griffin Group. Caleb went bankrupt and became a destitute. Nathan carried me out of that villa, holding me in his hands like a princess for a year. On my 26th birthday, I was killed by Caleb in the villa. Nathan, covered in blood, held me and said calmly, "Yaoyao, you go first, I will follow soon." Looking at his tearful eyes, I desperately prayed to the gods to save him and let him live. The gods answered my prayers. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to 18 years old. Nathan, this time it's my turn to save you.

I died with the taste of bitter almonds burning in my throat. My husband, Kian Ferguson, watched me collapse over the poisoned wine. He did not call for help. He did not kneel beside me. He only looked at me with cold, satisfied eyes, as if my death had finally made room for the woman he truly wanted—his delicate cousin, Isabelle. In my first life, I begged for his love. I endured his family's humiliation. I drank the bitter tonics they forced upon me in the name of fertility, even as my body grew weaker by the day. I was blamed for an empty nursery, mocked as a barren wife, and trapped in a marriage that was slowly killing me. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back five years in the past, riding beside Kian at the King's autumn hunt—the very day I first saw how he looked at Isabelle. This time, I did not weep. I did not fight for him. I returned to Blackwood Manor and asked for an annulment. Kian laughed in my face. "You want to leave?" he said, seizing my arms. "There are only two ways out of this marriage, Adeline. In a coffin, or with my permission. And I will grant you neither." I went to the King for justice. The Crown turned me away. They all believed I had nowhere left to run. A discarded wife. A useless vine. A woman with no power, no allies, and no future beyond the Duke's gilded cage. They were wrong. I sold my dowry in secret. I bought merchant ships under a hidden name. I gathered remedies, debts, secrets, and gold. If no one would grant me freedom, I would purchase it myself. If no one would give me justice, I would become powerful enough to demand it. And by the time Kian Ferguson realizes his unwanted wife has become the mysterious Nightingale, it will be far too late to cage me again.

I was supposed to marry Lord Tristan Beaumont. The wedding was perfectly planned, and my ancestral engagement ring was already on my finger. But days before the ceremony, he walked into the rose garden with my cousin, Seraphina, clinging to his arm. He looked at me with chilling indifference and announced he was marrying her instead. "You will still join the Beaumont family. Just not as my wife. You can be my mistress." Seraphina squeezed out fake tears, claiming they couldn't control their love, while the Beaumont matriarchs cornered me in the drawing room. They demanded I accept this humiliation quietly to protect their reputation, offering a dowry as the price for my dignity. Tristan even threatened me, reminding me that without their protection, I was an orphan with nothing left. They thought I was a helpless girl who would obediently step into their gilded cage, knowing I needed their family's resources to uncover the truth behind my parents' deaths. The humiliation burned, but my shock quickly turned into cold, hard fury. I looked at the man who had sworn his love and the cousin I had trusted like a sister. Why should I sacrifice my dignity to be a stepping stone for their perfect romance? I, Jolie Vinson, would never be anyone's pathetic mistress. So, in front of the entire smug family, I made a counter-proposal. "I request permission to marry the late Lord Gabriel by proxy." I chose to marry Tristan's dead older brother, becoming the untouchable senior widow to seize his vast, hidden fortune. But what I didn't know was that my "dead" husband was actually very much alive, hiding in the secret passages of my new bedroom, watching my every move.

In our past life, I was chosen for the royal court, ascending to the throne as Queen, only to discover I was merely a shield for the King's true love, eventually dying by a poisoned chalice. Meanwhile, my half-sister married the powerful Marquis of Blackwood. But when he was crippled in an accident, she vented her bitter regret by abusing his adopted sons, ultimately being cast out and becoming the laughingstock of high society. When we both opened our eyes and returned to the morning our fates were decided, my sister lunged forward and desperately snatched the royal selection brooch from my hands. "The supreme glory of the court belongs to me this time!" she sneered. I lowered my head to hide a cold smile. Go ahead, sister. Take that golden death warrant. Without hesitation, I picked up the remaining marriage proposal and chose Lord Dylan Lucas, the ruthless and fearsome Marquis of the North. On our wedding night, my new husband looked at me with eyes like winter frost. "I will not offer you my affection, my companionship, or my bed," he declared coldly. "You are merely here to be a nominal mother to my three adopted sons." "I understand, my lord," I replied meekly, secretly thrilled. A loveless marriage with wealth, power, and adorable children? It was the perfect retirement plan for a woman who had barely survived a palace bloodbath. I played my part perfectly. I used my hidden medical skills to heal his frail youngest son, effortlessly outmaneuvered his hostile relatives, and brought life back to his gloomy estate. I asked for nothing but peace. But I miscalculated one thing. The "cold and ruthless" Marquis wasn't supposed to watch me from the shadows with darkening, possessive eyes. He wasn't supposed to investigate my past. And he certainly wasn't supposed to shatter his own rules. "You've conquered my household and my sons, Gabriella," he whispered one night, cornering me in the study, his stormy grey eyes pinning me in place. "Tell me... when do you plan to conquer me?"

Before I died, I was the merchant's brat who "married above her station." Sterilized. Bleed dry. Thrown out like trash. I burned the Thorne name to ash—with them still inside it. Now I'm back. My real mother's pimping me for status. My sister's wearing my dead mother's jewels. And they're all scheming to hand me back to the man who killed me. Shame. They think I'm here to forgive. I'm here to finish the job.

A story of love, betrayal, and power within the gilded walls of Azzam Palace In the glittering city of Azzam, where loyalty is a weapon and silence a shield, newly crowned King Kamil stands at the edge of power - young, brilliant, and haunted by the weight of a kingdom that watches his every move. Milan, a lowly palace maid with a quiet spirit and melodious voice accidentally crosses paths with him, neither expects the spark that follows - a forbidden connection born in the shadow of the throne. But love in Azzam is never easy. As enemies close in - Bashi- the scheming uncle, and Jodha, the ambitious princess who is just a pawn in Mirian (kamil step sister)'s hand, the palace becomes a battlefield of whispers and deceit. And when Milan is accused of a crime that could destroy her, Kamil must decide whether to follow his duty... or his heart. In a world where every smile hides a secret, and every act of mercy could cost a crown, one truth remains - even kings can fall in love, and even love can start a war. A war that is fueled by an unhealthy obsession

I woke up in a strange body, only to find myself being violently laced into a blood-red wedding dress. The Ashford family had finally remembered their abandoned daughter, but only to use me as a disposable substitute. They were forcing me to marry the terrifying Prince Regent in place of their precious darling, Seraphina. The Prince was rumored to be a cursed, crippled monster who had already outlived three dead brides. Everyone knew this wasn't a wedding; it was a brutal death sentence. When I confronted my "father," he coldly told me it was my duty to sacrifice my life so his real daughter could marry the Crown Prince. They thought I was just a weak, useless pawn they could ship off like cattle. They expected me to cry, beg, and accept my tragic fate. But I wasn't that timid girl anymore. I smiled at my so-called father and held out two fingers. "Alright, I'll marry him." I watched their faces pale as my smile widened. "But not for free. Two hundred thousand gold lions." After extorting my own family, I took the carriage to the Prince's castle, where they tried to humiliate me by making me enter through a tiny servant's door. Instead of submitting, I walked over to a thousand-pound marble gargoyle statue by the main entrance. I ripped off my veil, lifted the massive stone beast with my bare hands, and smashed the heavy iron gates to splinters. "Go tell your master his bride has arrived." I let the words sink into the dead silence. "And if he doesn't open this gate, I will tear it down myself."

"You're just my tool. Know your place." It's her duty to follow her master's command. Even at the risk of injuring herself or losing her mind. It's his right to make use of her cold-heartedly. Even discarding her when she had become useless. She was a bird trapped inside a gilded cage, slowly losing her mind in the process. He was the heir of the country, regretting things he had lost in the process of power chasing. Could she ever be saved? Could he get back what he had lost? A love story between an antagonist and a side character. Melancholic Sword Apprentice (hidden shape-shifter) × Cunning Cold-hearted Master of Ivory Manor

Willow, daughter of Zane and River, has had a crush on her best friend since she was ten years old. Her overprotective family members and friends are worried that he'll break her heart. Meanwhile, however, an evil is brewing that may change every thing Willow thought she knew. Will she have the strength to over come it or will it break the cheerful girl. Will Trent, son of Micah and Lily, ever act on his desires for his best friend or will he allow insecurities to rule over his life. Join Zane, River, Micah, Lily, Rhett, Lacey, Vance and Grace as well as their many children in the third book of the Loving series. 1. Loving River 2. Loving Lily 3. The Ranger's Daughter 4. Loving Willow This is a clean historical romance that will have an HEA Happy Reading!

We often hear that love makes us blind, but when we add jealousy, we lose all beneficial notions, and we are ready to do anything so that the person at the origin of these evils, suffer. This is what will happen to Thetia Kestle, the youngest of the Kestle family. It is her older sister Jane who will be at the origin, and who will force her sister, the jewel of the Kestle family, to flee her native land, because death is at her heels. A love triangle is created between Jane, Thetia and Crown Prince Harlan VII Vassethier. Nevertheless, even in the deepest despair, we can find that glimmer of hope and swim to it so that we can finally breathe and be free of all these evils. Thetia will understand this during her long flight. Between betrayal, manipulation, life of prestige, wars, and love, how to know who will support you all your life and who will stab you in the back at the right moment.

Maxine lived her life with difficulties since she was born. Everyone thought she would become the Empress someday. Everyone expected her to be one because of the God's message before she was even born. All of the people had high expectations. She struggled learning how to become the best Ruler in the future. Her family became distant from her for her sake, that's what she thought. She became so stiff that everyone would think she was a heartless woman. But one day, the Prince fell inlove with the Empire's Princess prisoner from the neighboring Empire. The Ducal House of Zachrono started to fall, horrible and unfortunate things happened. The death of his five brothers and father stole her sanity that made her stab the Prince and led her to her own death. She thought she was dead but when she woke up, she realized she went back time 15 years ago and now, she's inside her younger self. The 5 years old girl. Will the history repeat itself? Or she can change the fate of her family?