
Surprised Wife With Twins
Seven years ago in a charity dinner, she inadvertently became his antidote, pregnant with the twins. Seven years later, the two kids hacked his computer and got his attention. "Give birth to my kids secretly? And say not my girl?"

The Untypical Marriage
“If you think that you have been living in hell all your life, let me break that illusion for you,” Adrian said. He spoke slowly, his voice full of menace. “This place–this is true hell, right here, where I am. His statement, “In this place, death is not an escape, no matter how much you may yearn for it,” was enough to make the audience shudder, but all that tiny figure did was raise her lifeless, dull eyes. “Then help me, so I can remain here.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of a smile as she continued, “If I can't escape, then I should learn how to live in hell without getting burnt.” ********************************** In a world ruled by loyalties and bloodlines, Kira, the first daughter of the strongest family in the American mafia, finds herself entangled in an unexpected twist of fate. She was betrothed since childhood to the second son of the Italian mafia’s don, due to a blood alliance between both families. She was raised alongside him and always considered him as her everything, while joyfully waiting for the day they would finally get married. To her, their love story was set in stone. However, on the day of the wedding, Kira's world as she knows it comes crumbling down when receives a shocking revelation — instead of her betrothed, a different groom appears at her wedding. And to top it off, he was dressed in a prison uniform. What happens when Kira finds herself thrust into the clutches of Adrian Vasillos the infamous ‘devil’ of the Italian mafia? Will she be able to navigate this world of danger, intrigue, betrayal, tested loyalties, and forbidden desires where she must come face to face with her deepest fears? Or will she finally discover the true meaning of love and get her happy ending? Read on to find out more in this twisted romance series…

Theodore's Regret
Theodore Maxwell, a ruthless business tycoon driven by vengeance, plots to marry Alina Roosevelt, to kill two birds with one stone; get revenge on her father and, to inherit everything that was rightfully his. Alina, a budding author with a heart as pure as her prose, was blissfully unaware of Theodore's ulterior motives when she said "I do." As Theodore's cunning plan unfolded, he found himself captivated by Alina's charm and kindness. Despite his initial intentions, he couldn't help but admire the woman he had married. But just as unexpected love began to blossom, everything crumbles with Alina’s father, who devised a cunning scheme that shattered the fragile peace in their marriage. Consumed by rage and betrayal, Theodore divorces Alina, blaming her for her father's deceit. It's too late to realize that Alina was a mere pawn in her father's malicious game. Regret gnawed at his heart as he desperately searched for her, but she had vanished without a trace. Haunted by the memory of his cruel actions, Theodore is set to find Alina and make amends. And he will stop at nothing. How long will Alina be successful in keeping her little secret hidden? ----------------------------------------------------- “I’m not your wife anymore, Theodore!” I yelled, shoving him away from me. He had absolutely no right to march back into my life. “Here’s where you are wrong Alina,” he took dangerous steps towards me until I was pushed against one of the walls, as he held me captive. “You were mine, then. You are mine now. And you, most definitely, will stay mine in the future. Not even you can separate yourself from me Alina, because you were born to be mine!” And that’s when he smashed his lips against mine in a furious kiss.
The Gold Bars My Husband Gave His Mistress Were My Dowry from My Father
I was having afternoon tea when I stumbled upon a video. 【My billionaire boyfriend gave me a beachfront villa, plus custom gold bars engraved with my initials!】 【He says it’s just pocket change from his family. Is this man marriage material?】 The video went viral. Comments flooded in, all envying her luck. I thought it was just another flexing influencer—until I zoomed in on the engraving and froze. That was my daughter Lia’s initials. The villa’s deed number matched the one in my personal trust file. How did my prenup assets turn into her boyfriend’s love tokens? ……
Goodbye, Don Corleone
At my Don husband’s “Alliance Day” banquet, he was supposed to deliver a speech to the city’s elite—yet his seat sat empty. Because in the smoking room, he had his “Chief Weapons Designer” pinned against the liquor cabinet. She asked coyly, “Aren’t you afraid your wife will suddenly walk in?” My husband didn’t stop. His voice was hoarse and unmistakably clear: “Right now… I want you more.” I didn’t keep watching. I turned and left. An hour later, carrying a brand-new set of identity papers and evidence enough to bring down his empire, I vanished like a ghost from this heavily guarded fortress. Vincent Corleone—when you return to that icy room with nothing left but a divorce agreement, your painstakingly built kingdom will only just be starting to crack from the core.

I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away
In the aftermath of a wild company dinner, she—intoxicated and misguided—found herself in her boss's room... Whispers of his cold indifference to romance and his ruthless decisiveness were legendary, painting a grim fate for any woman who dared entangle with him. ... In one month: the sight of a positive pregnancy test sends her mind racing to one thought—she must run, now or never! As she makes a break for freedom, he's hot on her heels, turning her flight into a captivating chase where her wings are no match for his resolve!

After divorce, I am a billionaire
For the sake of love, Lyra left everything behind and worked as a full-time wife for three years. But in the end, she realized that all her efforts were not as good as one look from her husband's first love. Disheartened, Lyra resolutely filed for divorce. "Sorry, I'm a billionaire! I want a strong man to be my husband." Immediately after, the whole internet exploded! A billionaire super rich woman, suspected to have divorced? So, all the CEOs are scrambling to court her. Melvin in front of the screen can not stand it, the next day held a press conference, the beautiful name: kneeling to beg his wife home!

The Mafia Don's Obsession
“Alexander, this isn’t right,” Valentina whispered, her voice shaky as his hand traced the line of her jaw. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter what’s right,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “It matters what’s mine.” Her breath caught as his fingers slid to the back of her neck. “And you think I’m yours?” “I don’t think, Valentina,” he murmured, a dark smile curving his lips. “I know.” --- Valentina never expected her life to take such a dangerous turn. After her husband demands a divorce to marry his mistress, she finds herself entangled with Alexander—a powerful mafia Don whose reputation is as lethal as the man himself. Alexander doesn’t just want Valentina; he needs her. When he discovers she’s the daughter of Nico Vance, the man responsible for the tragedy that destroyed his family, his rage burns hotter. But instead of killing her, Alexander makes a chilling decision: Valentina will become his late wife, down to the last detail. Caught between desire and danger, Valentina must decide if she’ll run from Alexander’s dark world—or step willingly into it. Because once she does, there’s no turning back.

Love Fades with Memory
I was seven years old when my father brought home a woman with golden hair and carefully painted makeup. She handed me a box of sliced mangoes. That evening, my mother sat silently at the dining table, watching me chew the fruit with childish delight. Not long after, she signed her name on the divorce papers, walked calmly to the balcony of our Manhattan apartment, and jumped. From that day on, mangoes became my lifelong nightmare. So, after our wedding vows, I looked Julian straight in the eye and told him with all the seriousness in the world: "Julian, if the day ever comes that you want to leave me, don't bother with a lawyer. Just send me a mango." That afternoon in Central Park, Julian, in his custom-tailored suit, pulled me into a tight embrace. He swore that from now on, mangoes were taboo for him too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, his high school friend—the ever-fragile, doe-eyed Chloe—the type of girl who always looked like she needed saving, left a mango on his desk, tied with a crimson ribbon.

My Aunt's Husband
Katy is sent to her aunt's home with the mission of caring for her aunt, after an accident has left her aunt temporarily unable to walk. Katy begins to feel attracted to her aunt's husband, Andrew, and the two are caught by her aunt in bed. Many secrets will be revealed amidst this torrid and hot involve.
From the Don’s Widow to Dock Queen
On our wedding day, he hung my ex-fiancé’s head at the church door. Guests screamed and fled, but he took my hand and said, “A traitor like him didn’t deserve to live.” I thought I’d married my true kind. He spoiled me for three years—diamonds, yachts, private islands. If I glanced at something, it appeared in our bedroom the next morning. Until my birthday, when the private investigator sent me an address— A house with my birthday as the passcode, stuffed with my cousin’s photos, her clothes, Polaroids of them having breakfast in each other’s arms. That night, he came with a cake and a diamond box. “Happy birthday.” I said: “The only gift I want—is her dead. By your hand.” His smile froze. In that moment, I realized three years of devotion had all been an act. And he never knew—the women of the Corsica family aren’t born to be caged birds. We’re born to take revenge.
Tender Kill
My husband, Julian, never loved me. It took three years of marriage before I knew for certain. On the bedroom surveillance feed, I lay unconscious in bed, oblivious to everything happening around me. Julian had his arms around Serena—his late brother's widow—right there beside me, the two of them laughing as they discussed how to divide my assets after I died. "Once she gets a little sicker—so far gone she can't even remember her own name—no one's going to question a thing." Julian pressed a kiss to Serena's cheek. A year ago, after my father passed, the insomnia set in. Julian, being a psychiatrist, wrote me prescription after prescription. Every day, he placed the pills against my lips with those gentle hands of his. Every day, he kissed my forehead and whispered, "Sleep. I'm here." I'm here. Yes. He certainly was. Right beside my unconscious body, with another woman, waiting for me to die. So that was your idea of "tenderness." And that was your idea of "killing." I'm awake now. I'm not your prey anymore, Julian. From this moment on, the roles of predator and prey are reversed.
Divorce Me, Godfather
For four years of marriage, I thought I’d picked the right man. Dominic Falcone. Head of the most powerful of New York’s Five Families. They called him “The Velvet Glove”—always impeccably suited, always effortlessly composed, never once raising his voice. Manhattan high society regarded him as the most refined Italian in the city. On Wall Street and in Washington, he was a permanent fixture at the best tables. He never stayed out past midnight. There were no tabloid scandals. On the nights I jolted awake from a nightmare, he’d hold me in his arms and whisper: Whatever hurt you before—I’ll never let it happen to you again. I believed him. I believed him, and I believed his mother Katarina, too—that the reason I couldn’t get pregnant was my problem. Four years. Fifty examinations. Hospital after hospital, specialist after specialist—I never once fought back. That woman showed up in person every three months, sat in the room, and watched me get examined with the cold scrutiny of an interrogator. He sat beside her and never said a word. Then one day, I saw a video. In it, he was kissing another woman. A full sixty seconds. Later, that same woman stood up at the Five Families’ annual charity gala and announced to the room that she was carrying his child. She was staking her claim before the entire underworld: the Falcone family had an heir on the way, and she was the mother. That night, she ran me over with her car in the parking lot. He was sitting in the passenger seat. “She had it coming,” he said. Then his enforcers hauled me off the ground and pressed me facedown onto a scorching engine hood. I smelled my own hair burning. I heard the bones in my fingers crack, one by one. After that, I did three things. I ordered ten male models into his private booth at his underground club—on his tab. I burned his wine cellar to the ground—every last bottle worth millions. And I told him to close his eyes and sign a little “surprise” I’d prepared. It was our divorce agreement. Before I left, I sent him an email with all fifty of my medical reports from the past four years attached. The last line read: Maybe it’s time you found out which one of us actually has the problem. He got tested. The diagnosis came back: azoospermia. And in that moment, the ever-composed Godfather began to fall apart.
Blood Oath, Broken Vows
On the anniversary of my son's death, I watched my husband kiss another woman in the underground parking garage. I had just returned from the cemetery, rainwater still clinging to my shoes, while he pressed his mistress against the car door, kissing her with focused urgency. Three years ago, the attack was meant for him, but the bullet took our son instead. Today, I discovered I'd lost far more than just a child. "When the time is right, I'll get a divorce." His voice was low, his hand still gripping her waist. In that moment, I knew I had to leave this family, even if it meant losing everythin
Glory Deception
Six years into our marriage, my husband always said he was too busy to come see me. So I decided to fly back and surprise him myself. But when I walked into the coffee shop he frequented the most, the cashier sneered and asked me, “Why are you harassing my boss’s husband?” For six years, I had been working on a classified NASA project, believing my husband was just as busy with his own work. Only now did I discover that he had already built another perfect family. Even more ridiculous—he had been using **my benefits** to support them all this time. When I exposed the truth, he didn’t apologize. Instead, he threatened me: “Six years of your career—are you really willing to destroy it just to expose me?” Until the moment NASA Security and the FBI knocked on the door, the lie he had spent six years weaving finally collapsed.
When My Superstar Husband Fell for His Sister-in-Law
The funeral had barely ended when my celebrity husband brought his pregnant sister-in-law home. "My brother is gone, and she's pregnant and needs care. As a public figure, I have to be responsible." Axel Franklin—America's hottest A-list star—spoke these words like he was delivering a press statement, calm and indisputable. He carried Ella's luggage and gave her our master bedroom. And I could only watch coldly from the sidelines. The first week, she was relatively quiet. The second week, she began to infiltrate. She brought warm milk to the study, her voice soft and fragile: "Filming is so exhausting, you need proper rest." At dinner, she coughed lightly, hand pressed to her chest: "Axel, I feel a bit stuffy. Could you tell me about some interesting experiences from your shoots?" In the middle of the night, she pretended to have breathing difficulties, calling Axel into her room to sing her to sleep. I wasn't an outsider to this world—I was an investor's daughter, intimately familiar with the entertainment industry. I'd grown up surrounded by schemes and manipulation. I could see her performance was flawless, every move calculated with precision. But when I looked at Axel, his eyes held patience, even tenderness. "You'll be more comfortable if you lie on your side when you rest." As he said this, his fingers gently touched her face. My heart clenched painfully. How I wanted to remind him—I'm your wife, not her. But the words stuck in my throat, leaving only the violent pounding of my heart. Five years ago, I gave up the chance to join the board of directors for this marriage. I abandoned my edge in the financial world just to be a quiet star's wife. Now I understood—in his eyes, a pregnant sister-in-law was more worthy of his protection than I was. I walked into the study, my fingers ice-cold as I dialed the phone. "Dad." My voice trembled but held unprecedented determination. "I want a divorce."
Blueprints of Betrayal
My husband donated his sperm to his stepsister—and asked me to give up our home for her and their child. The night I held a pregnancy test with two red lines, ready to tell him the news, he was in her kitchen cooking porridge for her instead. He stole my architectural design, put her name on it, forced me out with nothing, and traded our five-year marriage for the heir in her belly. “You won’t get a single cent,” he said, tossing the agreement at my feet. What they don’t know is this—the design they stole is powerful enough to drag them from the clouds straight into hell
The Birthday Lie: I Burned My Marriage Down
On my seven-month-pregnant birthday night, I sat at home waiting for my husband to come back. But he was lying in a presidential hotel suite with his “sister,” livestreaming. In front of the entire internet, he called me a “sow.” Seven months ago, I gave up my career to carry his child, believing I had a happy family. But on the livestream, he mocked me for being “fat and old” while holding that so-called sister, declaring that she was his real woman. When I rushed to the hotel and exposed them on the spot, he only sneered and told me— I was nothing more than a tool to bear his children. But they didn’t know this humiliation wouldn’t break me. The moment my child died because of their schemes and violence, I made a decision: Since they destroyed my life, I will destroy everything they have.
Married Her—But Used Me
I thought Dante was a beam of light cutting through my dark life—until I overheard him plotting to spend three years pushing me out of the house. I left, heartbroken, and then I met Noah—a man who carries my late husband Adrian’s heart. When Dante’s violence comes for me again, I swear to the steady thud beneath Noah’s ribs: this time, I won’t run. I’ll write a new ending for my life.
The Night the Godfather Locked Down the City for His Mistress, My Child Vanished
I was the East Coast Godfather’s wife—yet on the eve of our third anniversary, I was tied to a chair and livestreamed begging for my life. While a gun was pressed to my forehead, he was shutting down city streets to celebrate another woman’s birthday with fireworks. I miscarried in an ambulance because the main artery had been sealed—by his order. “Don’t be emotional,” he said, claiming the loss of our child was my weak body, not his decision. Only after I signed the divorce and disappeared from his world did he finally realize he had driven away the only woman who ever stood beside him—and for the first time in his life, the Godfather lost control and lost his mind with regret.
