You Can't Kill What's Already Dead

The Thanksgiving call from my adoptive mother was laced with a forced cheerfulness that immediately put me on guard. Maria and Anthony never just wanted me home; it was always a preamble to a demand, a lecture, or a guilt trip. This time, it was worse. I arrived to find our small, worn-out house packed with church members, their eyes filled with pious expectation. My adoptive parents, Maria and Anthony, proudly presented a newborn baby, Caleb, demanding I shoulder his entire upbringing and hand over my paramedic salary as my "Christian duty." My refusal unleashed a nightmare. They disowned me, threw out my belongings, and publicly shamed me at my workplace, jeopardizing my hard-earned career. But the lowest blow came when they tried to marry me off to my violent cousin, Rufus, hoping to gain legal control over my life and income. When Rufus used a spare key to break into my apartment, trying to force himself on me, my boyfriend Ethan saved me. Yet, at the police station, my adoptive parents' theatrics and lies allowed them to walk free, while I was left reeling from their venomous threat: a civil lawsuit for "elder abandonment" and demanding every penny I had. How could these people, who claimed to be my family, relentlessly try to destroy me, all in the name of God? Was there no end to their depravity, no escape from their manipulative grasp? But as their twisted words echoed in my mind, a forgotten memory-a snatch of a phrase about a "fire"-ignited a terrifying new question.

The familiar smell of my mother's overcooked pot roast usually meant another forced family dinner, but this time, it was a chilling portal back in time. The last thing I remembered was bleeding out in a hospital, my baby gone, my life over-all thanks to the woman now smiling sweetly at my brother: Sabrina. She murdered my child. This was the day Brian first brought her home. In my past life, this was the beginning of my end, a slow poisoning of my company, my finances, and eventually, my very existence. My mother' s false concern, Brian' s entitled smugness, Sabrina' s cloying sweetness – every interaction was a fresh wound, knowing what they would do. As they pressured me to hire Sabrina for a fake VP job, my past self would have hesitated, tried to be polite, and lost everything. But not this time. The bitter injustice of my previous life, the unimaginable pain of losing my child and my future, burned within me. Why did I ever let them walk all over me? Why did I allow them to destroy everything I built? This wasn't a warning. This was a second chance. I had been given a new beginning, and my decision was clear. I put down my fork, looked each one of them in the eye, and the word cut through the air, cold and definitive: "No."

My first life ended with the smell of cheap whiskey, a throbbing leg, and the bitter irony of my ex-wife' s golden boy getting the scholarship that should have been mine. I died alone, broke, and knowing I was a failure in the eyes of my kids and the woman I' d sacrificed everything for. Then, I woke up. The sun was hot on my face, the air thick with popcorn, and I was nineteen again, in my football uniform, standing on the side of the road. It was the homecoming parade, the exact moment my life had been destroyed. I saw Sabrina Johns, the town' s golden girl, laughing on the wobbly float. In my past life, I' d heroically saved her from that collapsing monstrosity, letting it crush my leg and shatter my future. That act of self-sacrifice led to a lifetime of misery, a marriage fueled by her guilt and my ruined dreams. She' d always despised me, painting me as a cripple who trapped her. To my dying breath, I thought saving her was the beginning of our tragic story. I never knew my future was already stolen, my dreams already dead, long before the float ever fell. Did my sacrifice even matter? What twisted game was this? This time, as the float lurched and the giant hornet head tilted, I didn't move forward. I stepped back. I was back, and this time, things would be different.

My husband, Ethan, always told me my grandmother' s priceless Martin guitar was "just an old guitar." My heart, a delicate melody, had spent years devoted to his dreams, sacrificing my own. Then, at his startup' s glitzy SXSW party, he gave it away. As a "bonus" to his new intern, Sabrina, a girl barely out of her teens. I watched, helpless, as she fumbled, faked a fall, and the antique wood shattered on the marble floor. Ethan didn't even glance at the rubble. He cradled Sabrina, his eyes cold daggers aimed at me, his "supportive wife." He then called my cherished legacy "just an old guitar," spitting venom that my Bluegrass grandmother was "just some hick musician." My world imploded. That night, the betrayal deepened. His phone, answered by Sabrina' s smug purr, confirmed the affair. "You really need to learn to let things go, Jocelyn," she taunted. The next morning, a frantic call: Sabrina had a severe "anxiety attack" and needed blood from my rare O-negative type. He abducted me, forcing a transfusion, making me miss a life-changing music meeting. Drained and helpless, I discovered a year-long scheme: my designs, my songs, my entire future-all stolen, registered in Sabrina' s name, and now she was calling herself a songwriter. Every piece of my identity, my dreams, twisted into a cruel mockery. How could the man I loved, the partner I built a life with, systematically dismantle my existence with such cold precision? I was erased. But in that sterile clinic room, bleeding from a forced donation for his mistress, a new, chilling resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had left me with nothing. They had only given me everything I needed to burn their world to the ground.

Three years after my death, my music mogul husband, Andrew Scott, sued my estate. His claim? That the bone marrow I donated to his starlet lover, Molly Clarkson, was failing her, causing her leukemia to relapse. I' m a ghost, tied to him, forced to watch him rage. He held a press conference, signing over my life' s work-my entire unreleased song catalog-to Molly, calling it a "gift." When that stunt didn' t work, he stormed to my family' s modest home, accusing me of faking my death, convinced I was just hiding. He dismissed my younger sister, Stella' s, pleas that I was dead, then brutally attacked my beloved three-legged terrier, Banjo, as a twisted warning. He boasted about financially bailing out my family, twisting the knife. But Andrew didn' t know the whole truth. I died from complications after the bone marrow procedure, critically weakened. I had a rare genetic condition, Fanconi anemia, which made the donation incredibly high-risk. The doctors Molly paid never told him, and they gave me a dangerously low dose of anesthesia, leaving me paralyzed but conscious, feeling every agonizing drill into my bones. I died less than two weeks later, while he celebrated Molly' s "remission" in Aspen. He believed the falsified hospital records saying I was discharged in stable condition, refusing to accept I was gone. Now, my spirit screamed as Andrew vowed to find me, threatening my family with unspeakable violence unless I reappeared. My grave was empty. My brother, Matthew, will bring me home.

The day I was finally supposed to marry Maria, the woman I' d loved for sixty years across two lifetimes, she died. Or so they told me. I stood at the altar, waiting, while the Texas sun beat down on the small chapel. Then her mother stumbled through the doors, face a mess of tears. "Matthew," she wailed, "There's been an accident. A terrible accident." "She's gone," her father choked out. My world tilted. How could she be gone? We'd loved until we were old and gray in our past life, then woke up young again, a gift. Now, it felt like a curse. A week after the funeral, my best friend Andrew told me someone saw Maria's twin celebrating. "She didn't look like Sylvia," he murmured. "She looked exactly like Maria." My hands stopped. Cold dread crept up my spine. I drove to the Chavez house, heart pounding. It was a party. An engagement party. And there, draped over my rival Wesley Fowler, was her. Maria. My Maria. The woman I had buried. She was laughing, looking radiant, vibrant, and very much alive. "Maria?" I choked out. She saw me, a flicker of shock in her eyes, then it vanished. "Do I know you?" she asked, her voice smooth, unfamiliar. "I'm Sylvia." The lie was so blatant, so shameless, it knocked the wind out of me. The crowd whispered, pity turning to suspicion. "You're lying," I whispered, reaching for her. "You're Maria." She flinched. "You're scaring me!" she cried, hiding behind Wesley. "Make him leave!" The whole town stared. I was the deranged, grieving fiancé. Wesley smirked. This was a setup. I had walked right into it. That night, Wesley came to my house. He told me Maria remembered our last life, too. Remembered the poverty. She chose him for his money. "And there's something else you should know," he added, his smile turning cruel. "The baby. Your first kid, in the last life. He wasn't yours, Matt. He was mine." My world shattered. Sixty years of love, history, our son – all a lie. The foundation of my entire existence collapsed. How could she do this? How could she choose this life, this man, and lie about everything, including our child? It was an unbearable betrayal. I was nothing. But in my despair, I found my grandfather' s Medal of Honor. With it, a letter: "If you ever find yourself lost, son, find General Duncan. He'll know what to do." I looked at the world that had betrayed me. I wasn' t going to rot here. I drove north, seeking a new beginning, a new path fueled by honor, not revenge. My old life was dead. It was time to build a new one.

"Please trust me, I didn't do anything." "I don't believe you. I am rejecting you as my Queen and giving you the punishment of death." Alina was living outside her pack for five years. Her parents didn't try to contact her and always ignored her. Her best friend convinced her to go back to their pack and she agreed. But she had never imagined what was waiting there for her. She never thought she would meet her mate and had to face betrayal from everywhere. She had to pay for the crime which she never committed. Aaron Robertson is the king of Lycans. He is a very dominant and powerful King who not only rules Lycans but also rules other ranks of werewolves. Everyone is afraid of Lycans and he is the king of them. But who knew that he would get a mate who was just a simple Omega with no powers and strengths? He called her weak all the time but little did he know that his weak Omega would give him the biggest betrayal of his life for which he had to give her the sentence of death.

Joelle thought she could change Adrian's heart after three years of marriage, but she realized too late that it already belonged to another woman. "Give me a baby, and I'll set you free." The day Joelle went into labor, Adrian was traveling with his mistress on his private jet. "I don't care whom you love. My debt is paid. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other." Not long after Joelle left, Adrian found himself begging on his knees. "Please come back to me."

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...

As a simple assistant, messaging the CEO in the dead of night to request shares of adult films was a bold move. Bethany, unsurprisingly, didn't receive any films. However, the CEO responded that, while he had no films to share, he could offer a live demonstration. After a night filled with passion, Bethany was certain she'd lose her job. But instead, her boss proposed, "Marry me. Please consider it." "Mr. Bates, you're kidding me, right?"

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."