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Reject After Pregnant For My Lycan Mate
774·Kellie Brown"I want a divorce. " The day before her third wedding anniversary, Fiona sees her husband walking to the obstetrics wing with his arm around his ex-girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena is pregnant. Heartbroken, Fiona rejects Micah, her husband, her mate, the Lycan Prince of the Alastair Kingdom, and leaves the pack. --- However, to Fiona’s surprise, after being rejected, Micah goes crazy looking for her all over the world. Until one day, when he sees her walking down the street holding a little girl, he pins her against the wall. “Is she my daughter?” Micah hisses.
My Husband Wants An Open Marriage
57.0K·Elysian SparrowIt’s true what they say about marriage: one partner’s always happier than the other. ~~~ Julie's world is shattered when her husband, Ryan, reveals that he wants an open marriage. His reason: he needs a child as they've been unable to have one. Julie reluctantly agrees to save her marriage. The next day, Ryan returns home with his secretary, confirming Julie’s long-held suspicion that their affair was taking place behind her back. Julie, heartbroken and enraged, seeks solace in a bar, where she meets a fascinating stranger named Luke, who changes the game. Julie confides in Luke over drinks, and he proposes a risky plan: he will act as her "boyfriend" to turn the tables on Ryan. Julie agrees, setting off a chain of events that will challenge everything she thought she knew about love, loyalty, and herself.
Divorced and Crowned By the Dangerous Kings
686·His Royal PenEvelyn Rowe never thought she could survive Victor Blackthorn nor his fists, especially since her unborn baby didn’t. But what she didn’t expect was to be saved by Dominic Russo, after being publicly blamed for her miscarriage and humiliated in front of the world. Finally finding the strength to divorce Victor, and the path to become the independent woman she always wanted to be, Evelyn becomes unstoppable. What no one expects is for three dangerous men to claim her: the heir apparent to the British throne, the billionaire who rules the corporate world, and a mafia lord who bows to no one. They were enemies at first, but for her, they became lovers. And when her ex-husband finally realizes what he destroyed, she already belongs to kings who would do everything in their power to keep her.
Divorced By Mistake Reclaiming My Ex-wife
247·Daisy"Wasn't I good in bed? Didn't I spoil you enough? What the hell did those fuckers give you that I couldn't?" My husband, Dean, yells at me for the very first time, gripping my hand and when I look into his eyes, I see how much he's hurting, how much he believed all the lies, how much he's not willing to listen. "I'd never do that to you, Dean. I love you, please believe me," tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with him. "You're meant for the streets Bella, and that's where you'd always be," And just like that my once perfect marriage hits the rock edge in a twinkle of an eye. A stripper, an exotic dancer but none of that mattered to Dean, he promised to love me and he kept to his words, not until this day. And even worse, he used my past against me, something he swore never to do.. ***** Ethan Fernandez, is a notorious casanova and unlike his friend, he never commits to any woman until his path crosses with Ivy, the formidable lawyer and the last person that gives a fuck about men and their shenanigans. Now, the player becomes the played as his life takes an unexpected turn with the walking temptation that lurks in the form of Ivy Reynolds.
The Mafia's Wife: Four Years Hidden, One Day's Escape
9.0K·-I tricked my mafia husband into signing our divorce papers—right in front of his mistress. For eight years, I was the Maynard family's ghost. Decoding enemy intel. Forging untraceable documents. Keeping their heir alive from the shadows. Then one bloody night turned me into Orion Maynard's wife. He called it a "strategic alliance." I was naive enough to call it destiny. Destiny, it turns out, has a cruel sense of humor. For four years, I warmed his bed, bled for his empire, and waited for a man who once pinned me against walls whispering, "You're mine, tesoro." Then Sabrina Rossi waltzed back from Paris—and I stopped existing. The night he held me close, drunk and desperate, he moaned her name against my lips. I finally understood: I was never his wife. Just a placeholder. So I did what shadows do best. I vanished on my own terms. First, I let sunflowers swallow the crescent moon on my collarbone—a foolish tribute to his promise that I was his eternal light. Then I tucked divorce papers between routine forms and handed him a pen. He scrawled his name without a second glance. Orion Maynard can keep his throne and his precious Sabrina. But when the most dangerous man in New York realizes his ghost is gone for good, he'll learn something new:Some women don't come back.
Not Yours To Claim, My Mafia Ex
38.0K·Page Slayer⚠️ DARK ROMANCE CONTENT WARNING This is a very dark mafia romance intended for mature readers (18+). It contains a morally gray anti-hero, obsession, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, BDSM, and explicit sexual content. If you crave danger, obsession, and morally complicated passion, this dark romance will grip you—but reader discretion is strongly advised. * Mistake?! Luciano’s jaw clenched at that one word. Was she challenging his bedroom skills? No woman had ever complained. And his ex-wife had the audacity to forget, after he had put so much effort into her in bed—something he had never done in sex before. Now she was truly going to regret it. He would make sure of that. “So you sleep with anyone for money, right?” he narrowed his eyes, breathing over her lips. She swallowed before letting out a soft, “Hmm.” “Then I’m paying you in advance for two weeks,” he offered. “For two weeks, you’re mine and can’t see other men.” She started panicking because she couldn’t afford to be in bed with her cruel mafia husband another night; two weeks were out of the question. And if she stayed longer with him, she feared he would sense her true intention and the secret she was hiding from him. So whatever excuse came to her mind next, she blurted it out in desperation to escape this cruel Italian don. “That can’t be happening, Mr. Mancini, because I don’t stay with the same man every night.” _ Convinced by his mother and girlfriend that Rosa had drugged him to get into his bed, Italian Don Luciano Mancini saw her supposed betrayal as a brutal blow to his pride. He served her divorce papers without hearing a single explanation—and exiled her not only from his home but from the country itself. Years later, Rosa returned with a secret. Their son was dying. Diagnosed with high-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia, the boy needed a stem-cell transplant from a biological sibling to survive. And to make that possible, Rosa had to conceive again—with the one man who despised her. Her ex-husband. Luciano Mancini. Getting pregnant by a devil was never going to be easy, especially when that devil hated her. She hadn't stolen his seed before, but this time, she was willing to do whatever it took if it meant saving her child. Seeing his ex-wife again—no longer innocent, no longer obedient—awakened something in Luciano he had never felt for another woman. This time he wanted her for real. But Rosa was already slipping beyond his grasp. Because Dr. Samuele, the man treating her son, was in love with her. He was willing to stand by her no matter what—even if she carried her ex-husband's child once more. Her return became about more than saving her child when she uncovered the secrets surrounding her parents' deaths. She wouldn't stop until she found the culprit behind their downfall and reclaimed her father's legacy. Now pregnant and in control of the empire she had reclaimed, Rosa finally had a man who loved her and a chance at the life she deserved. But Luciano wasn't willing to let her go. Just when Rosa thought she had found safety, love, and freedom, Luciano's darkest secret resurfaced—a secret buried in his past that could destroy both their lives and everything she had built.
That Night My Boss Left Me With Our Three Babies
64.0K·Hayden BlakeOlivia Prescott married Victor Leer for three years, but it ended in divorce, leading to ridicule from the entire Seacrest community, labeling her as a forsaken woman of high society. Six years later, Olivia returned to her homeland with her twins and transformed herself into a renowned international divine healer. Countless people flocked to her, hoping to marry her. Suitor number one said, "Miss Prescott, do your children need a father? Look at me, how about considering me? If you agree, I will treat them as my own." Suitor number two exclaimed, "Miss Prescott, from the moment I first saw you, I was captivated by your beauty and talent. I am willing to give my all and love you for a lifetime. Mr. Leer may not value you, but he is blind. I promise to never leave your side!" At that moment, a little girl appeared, clinging to Olivia's leg and said, "Mommy, Daddy has been kneeling on a washboard for three days and nights, asking if you're no longer angry. If you're not, he wants to remarry you."
His Cruel Bet：I Signed the Papers Instead
411·-My husband loved watching me get jealous. He said the more I minded his childhood friend getting close to him, the more it proved I loved him. So, every year on our wedding anniversary, he would let his childhood friend, Megan Cole, take my place as "Mrs. McAdams" for a few days. Then, he and his friends would bet on how many days I could endure it. The first year, Megan wore my nightgown and leaned into his arms for a photo. I snatched the dress back in anger, but he kissed me and laughed, saying I really couldn't live without him. The second year, he gave the master bedroom to Megan and made me sleep in the guest room. Only when my eyes were rimmed with red outside the door did he open it, saying she was just staying for one night. Last year, he took Megan to his parents' house for dinner, let her sit in my seat, and played along when his parents called her "Mrs. McAdams." He didn't grab my hand until I turned to leave the table. "It's just a title. Do you really have to make a fuss over this?" But this year, they took the game even further. Megan moved into our house with her suitcase, pulled out a new set of keys, and asked me in front of all our friends: "Hunter said he's letting me experience life as the lady of the house for seven days. You aren't mad, are you?" Hunter McAdams wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his eyes full of anticipation. "If she really loves me, she'll definitely get jealous." Everyone waited for me to cry and make a scene like in previous years, before he would laugh and announce the end of the game. But this time, I just went back to the room and packed my things. Before leaving, I placed my wedding ring and the house key into Hunter's palm. "Seven days is too short." "She can have this position from now on."
Mr. Burns Is Killing His Wife
111.0K·Micah BakerShe had loved him with all her heart for sixteen years, yet she was asked to leave his household empty-handed, just to make room for the angel in his heart. He thought he would find happiness without that woman, until he received her diagnosis of cancer... Panicked, he rushed to see her, only to find her holding another man's hand. "Why didn't you tell me you had stomach cancer?" "Isn't my early death what you wished for?" She sneered with a mocking laugh, "Hamish Burns, in the final moments of my life, I don't want to love you anymore."
Naughty Nights at The Imperial
95·Ayla RenWelcome to the Imperial. Miami’s most exclusive waterfront tower. Where the city’s richest and most dangerous live above the clouds. Behind every penthouse door is a secret. A billionaire who keeps his neighbor’s wife after midnight. A bodyguard who breaks every rule the moment the elevator doors close. An ex who still has the key — and isn’t afraid to use it. A powerful man no one dares refuse. An alpha who claims what he wants under the Miami skyline. Different couples. Different desires. One glittering tower where the nights are long, the rules are optional, and the elevators aren’t the only thing going up. This is Naughty Nights at the Imperial. Once you step inside… you won’t want to leave.
He Thought I'd Stay
4.0K·AnswerRyan slid the divorce papers across the desk like they were nothing. Like they were a napkin. A receipt. Something disposable. "Sign it," he said. "Just for show. To keep her interested." I looked down at the papers. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. My name. His name. Three years reduced to two lines of print. I gripped the hem of my dress and nodded. Then I picked up the pen and signed. Quietly. Cleanly. Without a single word. As I stepped out of his office, I heard his friend laugh from across the room. "God, she's too obedient. You think if you asked her to remarry you, she'd just... do it?" Ryan lit a cigarette. I heard the click of his lighter—that familiar sound I'd spent three years listening for in the dark. "Wanna bet?" "On what?" "One month." He exhaled. "She'll be at the courthouse, crying her eyes out, handing over that marriage certificate with both hands." A burst of laughter. "I'll take that bet. What's the prize?" "Drinks. All of them. For a month." More laughter. Someone said easy money. Someone else said she'll crawl back before two weeks. I stood in the hallway and didn't move. My phone buzzed. One new message. An unfamiliar number—but I knew who it was. We'd been talking for two years, always through different channels, always careful. 【You could just marry me instead. Is that so impossible?】 I stared at the words. Inside, Ryan's friends were still laughing. Still betting. Still so certain they knew exactly what I would do. I typed one word. 【Okay.】
Never Betray the Mafia Donna
2.0K·AnswerOn my birthday, my Mafia husband left me and our daughter to cook a full Italian dinner at his lieutenant's apartment. In a video on social media, Vincent was tenderly placing food on Lena's plate, murmuring promises in a low voice. "Lena, from now on, I'll spend every birthday with you. I won't let you be alone." My daughter, Ella, was in low spirits, her eyes brimming with tears. I clenched my phone, gathered her in my arms, and walked out the door. When I showed up at Lena's apartment, Vincent frowned with irritation. "Didn't I tell you I wasn't coming home tonight?" "Why can't you and the kid just stay at the house? What are you doing here?" I didn't answer. I just asked, calmly: "Vincent. Tonight—are you choosing me and Ella, or are you choosing your lieutenant?" "Choose us, and you come home with me." I paused, then swept a cold glance at Lena. "Choose her, and we're getting a divorce."
After the Divorce, I Personally Investigated My Ex-Husband's Disappearance
44·miaoI was a war correspondent once—and I gave it all up for love. Nathan and I had been together for years. On our wedding day, I thought I'd be the happiest bride in the world. Then Nathan let his favorite influencer friend livestream my private ceremony. Everyone gushed over how "innocent and pitiful" she was, while I became the petty bride. On a stormy night, when a panic attack nearly killed me, Nathan was at her side, spoon-feeding her porridge. That was the moment I lost all hope in this marriage. I signed the divorce papers and flew to a war zone. Then they both vanished. This time, my lens isn't trained on artillery fire—it's aimed at the bloodless cage they so carefully constructed. I'm going to show the world who the real prey was in this marriage.
The Pharmaceutical Husband’s IVF for His Friend’s Widow
35·-When I discovered I was pregnant, I was about to tell my husband Alexander the good news. But then I saw an Instagram post notification—a pregnancy test result. Two pink lines, black text on white background, with the father's name clearly written: Alexander Grant. The poster was Evelyn Shaw. The widow of his "deceased friend." Her caption read: "Thank you for donating your sperm and personally performing my IVF procedure, Alex. I'll never be alone again." In that moment, my hands began to tremble. I immediately called Alexander: "Give me an explanation." He was silent for a few seconds, his tone as calm as if he were speaking at a board meeting. "Ethan was my best friend! He died, leaving his wife alone. I just wanted to help her fulfill their wish." In that moment, I knew—this marriage needed to end.
The Alpha's Discarded Luna: A Fated Rebirth
153·SumsumAt the victory celebration, the air crackled as my Alpha mate, Kael, paraded his old flame, publicly declaring his rejection and stripping me of my Luna title. My smile was a chilling promise: "One last chance. Think carefully."
The Don Faked His Death for His Mistress. I Disappeared for Myself
8.0K·-Dante Moretti died on the way to marry me. At least, that's what they told me. His convoy hit a car bomb crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. By the time the fire trucks arrived, the vehicle was ash. The body inside was unrecognizable. They cremated him before I could see his face. Buried an urn I never opened. I was six weeks pregnant. I became a widow before I ever became a wife. For months, I believed every word of it. The grief. The loss. The careful kindness of the Moretti family closing around me like a fist. Then I heard his voice through a closed door — alive, unhurt, unhurried — explaining to his mother why leaving me at the altar had been the right call. He'd faked his death to spend six months with his mistress. He thought I would wait. Grieve. Stay quiet. Keep his child and his secret until he was ready to come home. He forgot what kind of woman he'd spent six years building. I made one call to my brother. I walked out the front door. And I gave Dante Moretti exactly what he'd given me: A body they'd never find.
The Godfather's Redemption
111·miaoI had been in love with my godfather husband, Dominic Falcone, for years before we finally walked down the aisle. I once believed we were each other's most faithful partners—each other's most dependable allies. We had survived countless brushes with death together. He shielded me with his own body amid hails of gunfire and kept vigil beside me through every long night, ready for my panic attacks to strike. Then Selena appeared, and everything changed. My husband began staying out all night. Under the guise of business trips, he took her on vacation. One night, in the grip of a panic attack, I lay on the edge of death, weakly calling his name. But he was at Selena's side, watching over her mild fever, spoon-feeding her porridge with his own hands. At last I understood: the Godfather who once loved me was dead. The day I had the divorce papers drawn up, I discovered things weren't so simple—Dominic seemed to have become Selena's puppet. Her goal had never been merely to steal my husband. She intended to drain the Falcone family dry and devour everything we had built together. And I would never allow that to happen. I would make everyone understand—I am the sole ruler of this empire.
My Husband’s Dirty Secrets
143·-Less than a month after the funeral, my marriage quietly began to crumble. “My best friend is gone, and his wife is pregnant. She has no one to rely on.” Ethan Lawford stood at the door with Clara Lewis beside him, his voice calm—too calm. “She’ll stay here for a while. I promised Lewis I’d take care of her.” He carried her luggage in himself, the same hands that used to hold me when he came home late from the firm. Now they carried another woman’s life into our home. At first, she was quiet. Fragile. Then she began to fill the house with her presence. She brought him coffee at midnight, murmuring, “You’ve been working too long, Ethan. You need rest.” She lingered at the office doorway when he drafted case briefs, her eyes soft, full of grief and gratitude. And every time, Ethan looked at her with that same patient sympathy— the kind that used to belong to me. I wasn’t naive. I used to be a lawyer too. I recognized every emotional manipulation she deployed. The evidence was all there—motives, opportunity, execution. But what hurt most wasn’t her tactics. It was that Ethan never once objected. He gave her the guest room first. Then he gave up our bedroom. And me? I became the stranger walking past two people who shared whispered grief behind closed doors. Three years ago, I’d quit my position at my father’s investment firm to support Ethan’s career. I funded his dream of opening his own law office. Now, standing in the same home built from my father’s money, I watched him give it all away—to her. I dialed a number with shaking hands. “Dad,” I said, voice low but steady. “I want a divorce.”
The Second Confession
160·Z·NyraFive years of marriage, my birthday. My husband Allen casually tossed me a black card and said coldly, "Buy whatever you like." The next second, he held his phone in front of me, showing off photos of the birthday party he had prepared for his childhood friend Fiona. "Look how happy Fiona is." His tone was gentle, then he added, "She's different. She only has me." I looked at the photo of Fiona kissing his cheek and smiled. I took out my phone and, right in front of him, commented on that social media post: "The trash I don't want - consider it my birthday gift to you."
No Roses Left to Burn
28.0K·-Seven years of marriage, and I had never once sat at a Marchetti family table. Not on Christmas Eve. Not on Thanksgiving. Not on New Year's. Every holiday, Luca left before sundown and came home the next morning with cigar smoke in his collar and wine on his breath — traces of a world I was never allowed to enter. He always said it was tradition. Old blood. Sicilian rules passed down through generations: no outsiders at the family table. No exceptions. Not even for a wife who took the Marchetti name. I believed him. Every single time. Until the night before New Year's Eve, when he asked me to check the tire pressure on his Maserati, and I found three photographs wedged behind the owner's manual in the glovebox. All three were taken in the Marchetti private dining hall — I recognized it from a picture his mother had shown me once. Vaulted stone ceilings, a mahogany table long enough to seat forty, and the family crest carved into the mantle above the fireplace. In every photo, the same woman stood beside my husband. Her arm through his. Her hip pressed to his side. His hand on the small of her back with the kind of ease that doesn't come from politeness. It comes from habit. I sat in the driver's seat until the steering wheel turned cold beneath my fingers. There was no tradition. There was no rule. The place beside Luca had simply been taken — by someone who wasn't me. And he'd lied about it for seven years.
