Symplyayisha

In order of priority, For Jayda Wright, her work comes first, She comes second, her best friend and family comes third and then her so-called boyfriend comes fourth. She didn't know she was losing her boyfriend at the expense of putting her job first. He finally broke up with her the day she got promoted as a partner in a reputable law firm. That night, Jayda made her way to a bar where she met Sebastian Miller, The multimillionaire with the worst personality but incredibly sexy. She had a one night stand with him, creating a bond that binds them forever!

Melissa and Damien got their hearts broken by their lovers so they went to the club to drink away their pain. Melissa was dared to give a lap dance to the hottest-looking guy in the club (Damien). One thing led to another and they both had an amazing night together! Five years later, Melissa found herself at the mercy of the stranger(Damien). Not only was he her new boss. He was her baby daddy and also a famous Billionaire!

Mia thought the best way to get revenge against her terrible ex was to get sexual pleasure from someone else. Preferably, a stranger! So she stalked the sexiest man she could find at the party. Once he cornered her, She made him a deal. Mia had no idea that the man she made a deal with was a possessive Billionaire who could make or break her. He wanted more after their passionate night together and decided she was going to be Entangled with him for life.

In order of priority, For Jayda Wright, her work comes first, She comes second, her best friend and family comes third and then her so-called boyfriend comes fourth. She didn't know she was losing her boyfriend at the expense of putting her job first. He finally broke up with her the day she got promoted as a partner in a reputable law firm. That night, Jayda made her way to a bar where she met Sebastian Miller, The multimillionaire with the worst personality but incredibly sexy. She had a one night stand with him, creating a bond that binds them forever!

To satisfy her thirst for revenge, Arianna Greece was willing to do all that it took to destroy Alexander Clay, the famous billionaire womanizer. The goal was to destroy him beyond repairs and Ari didn't mind using her body as a tool to get what she wanted. (But what happens when Ari starts to genuinely fall for Alex?)

"Ever played with yourself?" He asked and she blushed in embarrassment, in understanding of what he said. She later gave a nod, answering his question. "I do, whenever I'm horny." "I've never made use of toys and neither have I gone way past my clit bud. My fingers do the job. I rub my clit till I orgasm and sometimes I watch porn alongside." She answered shyly. Samuel nodded and said to her. "I want you to relax and enjoy what I'm about to do. Don't be shy or afraid to let it all out okay?" "Okay," She swallowed painfully before she answered. Her heart, beating twice faster in excitement. ................

It was hard for Stanley chatwin to accept the fact that he has fallen deeply in love with his personal assistant, Lauren, when he already has a wife. He thought he knew the real meaning of love when he got married to his wife but he was wrong because Lauren, his Personal assistant was what he needed in his life. Hence, Stanley is determined to make things work between himself and Lauren. Even though it means divorcing his legally wedded wife, Rita.

Naomi knew it was wrong to spend the night with a stranger in another city. But something in her told her she could trust him. She ended up having a passionate one night stand with him only to discover he lied about his Identity and Status.

Annie Davis was beyond furious when she was told she had been inseminated with the wrong sperm which belonged to a Billionaire who insists he wants to be in her life and the baby's life if she falls pregnant.

Ronald Gidwani, a billionaire, who is also a single father, finds love again when he meets Raina, The Queen Of His Heart.

(A Sequel To The Secret Babies) Just when Lawrence Earl Williams decided to settle down with whom he presumed to be the love of his life, a drunken mistake was revealed and everything came crashing down.

Guy Anderson, a 29 year old billionaire and CEO of Anderson's Enterprise was living a happy and fulfilled life. However, this was short-lived when his legally wedded wife, Alyssa, died few minutes after giving birth to their baby girl. Despite his loss, his daughter gave him a new reason to live and she became his motivation towards success. And Guy Anderson ended up finding love again.

They have always been secret admirers since the first day their path crossed. It took the two of them just one night to confess their feelings to each other, after which they decided to quench their sexual thirst, creating a bond that binds them forever

Melinda Davis, a soon to be divorcee, who swears never to give love a chance again broke that rule when she fell madly in love with her driver.

Abigail Delaney, the youngest female servant of the Williams household came with the intention to work for a period of time in order to save up enough money to pay for her mother's surgery. Unintentionally, she fell in love with the only son and heir to the Williams empire, Liam Williams. It took just one night to lose her virginity to him. And later discovering she was pregnant, she decided to leave and never return. Hopefully, Liam will never find out that she left with his heir.

At my best friend's birthday party, I drank tainted wine and passed out. When I woke up, I heard the doctor say it could cause severe nerve damage. I teased my fiancé Cayden Hewitt, asking who I was and where I was. He hesitated, staring at me, then called my rival Liam Hewitt. "You're Julia. He's your fiancé. You're getting married soon." I froze, thinking he was joking too. My best friend, Vivian Green, slipped her arm through Cayden's, looking every bit like a couple in love. Eventually, I was about to marry Liam. But Cayden, with eyes red from emotion, stood in front of the car to stop it, pleading, "Julia, don't marry him. I've realized I can't let you go."

I was arranging lilies for my engagement party when the hospital called. A dog bite, they said. My fiancé, Salvatore Moretti, was supposed to be in Chicago on business. But he answered my frantic call from a ski slope in Aspen, with the sound of my best friend, Sofia, laughing in the background. He told me not to worry, that my mother’s injury was just a scratch. But when I got to the hospital, I learned it was Sofia’s unvaccinated Doberman that had attacked my diabetic mother. I texted Sal that her kidneys were failing, that they might have to amputate. His only reply: “Sofia is hysterical. She feels terrible. Calm her down for me, okay?” Hours later, Sofia posted a photo of Sal kissing her on a ski lift. The next call I got was from the doctor, telling me my mother’s heart had stopped. She died alone, while the man who swore to protect me was on a romantic vacation with the woman whose dog killed her. The rage inside me wasn't hot; it turned into a block of ice. I didn't drive back to the penthouse he gave me. I went to my mother’s empty house and made a call I hadn't made in fifteen years. To my estranged father, a man whose name was a ghost story in Salvatore’s world: Don Matteo Costello. “I’m coming home,” I told him. My vendetta wouldn’t be one of blood. It would be one of erasure. I would dismantle my life here and disappear so completely, it would be as if I had never existed.

My husband stood me up on the biggest night of my career—my first solo art exhibition. I found him on the news, shielding another woman from a storm of cameras while the entire gallery watched my world collapse. His text was a final, cold slap in the face: "Kacie needs me. You'll be fine." For years, he'd called my art a "hobby," forgetting it was the foundation of his billion-dollar company. He had made me invisible. So I called my lawyer with a plan to use his arrogance against him. "Make the divorce papers look like a boring IP release form," I told her. "He'll sign anything to get me out of his office."

For my entire life, I believed my Alpha, Kaelen, was my fated mate. A sacred gift from the Moon Goddess. But on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, he presented another she-wolf, Seraphina, as his chosen Luna, using a borrowed pup in a cruel plot to crush my spirit. When Rogues attacked our pack, a silver chandelier fell towards us. Kaelen lunged past me without a glance, shielding Seraphina with his own body while I was left to be crushed. He never even looked back. Later, after falsely accusing me of hurting her, he dragged my injured body to an ice-cold hydrotherapy pool and shoved me under the water. As I struggled to breathe, he loomed over me, his voice a roar of command. "If you ever touch her again, I will strip you of your name and make you Rogue." Watching the man I loved try to kill me, the last of my hope finally turned to ash. That night, I accepted an offer to join the Silverwood Pack. Then, I walked to the forge and tossed every memento he'd ever given me into the flames, watching the girl who loved him burn away forever.

Ten days before my wedding, I learned my fiancé-the man who swore to heal my abandonment issues-was cheating for a "final taste of freedom." His betrayal cost me our unborn child, and then he had the audacity to beg me to give my blood to save his mistress's life. He expected to see me walking down the aisle, but I planned a different kind of show: a wedding gift that would be his public execution.

My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child. Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby. To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner. They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his. The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused. But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.

The day I saw Jared Stanley's interview, I filed for divorce and moved out of the perfectly maintained home I'd shared with him for three years. In that interview, Jared said his biggest regret in life was that, in a life-or-death situation, he instinctively protected what he called his most "precious national asset." The "asset" he protected wasn't me, his wife. It was his "fragile" colleague, Bailee Brooks. Two days later, at the global press conference for the G20 summit. The same renowned war correspondent asked me the same question. "Ms. Quinn, as a top-tier simultaneous interpreter, what would you say is the professional principle you are most proud of?" I looked directly at Jared sitting in the front row. "True professionalism is knowing that my husband risked his life to protect his mistress, and still being able to calmly, as the lead interpreter, accurately convey the commands that would ultimately save him."

Five years ago, Bettina Rowe was wounded in her abdomen to save Asher Lambert, which caused her not to get pregnant. Asher had told her that he would never want a baby. But he eventually entertained the idea of surrogacy. He chose Betsy Sugden, a college student who resembled Bettina, to give birth to his baby. Asher didn't know that Bettina had already decided to divorce him when he brought up that idea.

While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son. Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate. An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir. Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack. Dante didn’t even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her. He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall. Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me. I heard him promise her, “Soon, my love. I’ll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve.” The love I felt for him, the power I’d hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice. He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent. And I was finally going home.

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.