Alexandria

Modern

Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

Werewolf

#PowerCouple The blind prince who plays the fool × the Omega who rose from her own grave I fought for him for ten years. Thirty thousand lives buried in the snow to pave his road to the throne. His reward to me? A silver arrow-through my back, out my chest. I carved that arrow with my own hands. With my last breath, I asked him: Why. He said: "An Omega commander is a disgrace." Thirty years of blood, and he told me I shamed him. He stepped over my body, pulled my sister into his arms, and planned their winter-solstice wedding-white rose petals, the ones she wanted. The Moon Goddess heard me. She sent me back. Eighteen years old, before any of it happened. Back to the dungeon, chains biting into my flesh. I snapped my thumb, slipped the cuffs. Iron chain wrapped around my fist-cold, but more honest than his arms ever were. Thirty thousand lives on my back. He said Omega is a disgrace. Fine. This time, I'll show him exactly- how many cuts it takes for an Omega to tear down his throne.

Billionaires

After her father's gambling debts put a target on her back, Elara Vance is sold at a private auction to the most feared man in the city: Julian Blackwood, the ruthless heir to a dark empire. But Julian doesn't want a maid or a lover-he wants a "pet." Stripped of her autonomy and forced into a gilded

Werewolf

#PowerCouple The blind prince who plays the fool × the Omega who rose from her own grave I fought for him for ten years. Thirty thousand lives buried in the snow to pave his road to the throne. His reward to me? A silver arrow-through my back, out my chest. I carved that arrow with my own hands. W

Billionaires

A girl was accidentally meet the mafia boss because of her boyfriend. Her boyfriend had many debts to pay to his creditor. The mafia boss was calling her for seeing his condition and ask for her will. Her boyfriend was signing one agreement. That was selling her to the boss for years until the debts