
![[ENG DUB] Love Triangle with Three Magnates](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Claire Gould, the heiress of a billion-dollar conglomerate, conceals her identity to repay a life-saving favor by marrying a commoner. Little did she know that after personally guiding her husband's company to become a multimillion-dollar conglomerate on the brink of going public, he callously casts her aside, opting to marry the niece of the wealthiest man in town. Post-divorce, Claire's true identity is exposed, leading to a satisfying comeuppance for the deceitful ex-husband and his conniving new wife. Despite his regret, it's too late for him to reclaim what he lost. Claire finds herself adored and cherished by three influential and eligible bachelors, leaving her ex-husband to rue the day he let go of the woman now embraced by the affections of powerful suitors.

"Every time my husband, Dave Tarrett, spent the night at his ex Maggie Gorringe's place, he bought me another building. Two years into our marriage, I owned 285 commercial properties across the country. Which also meant Dave had screwed me over 285 times. After the deed to property number 286 landed in my hands, Maggie sent me another smug little video. ""So what if Dave throws money at you? I'm the one who gets his body and his heart. You might be some international supermodel, but you still can't get your own husband into bed."" I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I mailed her the newest Victoria's Secret set from my latest runway show. When Dave found out how ""generous"" I'd been, he rewarded me by taking me to some elite social event. During a party game, Maggie lost three rounds straight and got dared to lick whipped cream off some playboy's thigh. She grabbed a wine bottle, smashed it, and shoved the jagged edge against her neck. ""Dave, I'm not letting anyone humiliate me like this!"" Dave—usually cold as ice—instantly panicked. Then he turned to me. Of course he did. ""It's just whipped cream,"" he said softly. ""Do this for her. I swear I'll go home with you after."" Everyone waited for me to lose it. But I stayed calm and agreed without a word. He didn't know this was the 287th time he'd hurt me. And I was done being his pet. Once I paid back the debt I owed him for saving my life, we'd be done for good. "

During our decade together, I stay by Felix Valentino's side as he slowly ascends to the peak of the mafia world. I become the woman he trusts most. However, he secretly names an island that we fought for and won together after my best friend, Lilian Fenati. Why? Because Lilian is terminally ill. Her dying wish is to marry Felix on the island named after her. Felix clamps down on this and forbids anyone from telling me. He has no idea Lilian live streams the whole thing for me. That night, I cry my heart out. Meanwhile, Felix spends the night with Lilian. I lie in a pool of blood. My heart condition acts up, and my breathing starts to slow. Where is Felix? At the hospital with Lilian. Five days later, I accept a marriage proposal from Harold Bonanno, the mafia king.

On her wedding day, Megan's fiancé Mark vanishes without a trace. After four years of investigation, the police still turn up no leads whatsoever. Consumed by her relentless obsession, Megan is taken by her best friend Jennifer to a hidden underground store that sells so-called hyper-realistic ""shared boyfriend"" companion robots. She is horrified to discover that ""Robot No. 07"" is none other than Mark, missing for four years. He is kept subdued with drugs and electric shocks, disguised as merchandise to be exploited for profit. To save her beloved, Megan swallows her humiliation and feigns compliance, secretly gathering evidence. Step by step, she uncovers the shocking truth: her best friend, driven by hatred born from scorned love, was the one who ""donated"" Mark to the store owner. In the final showdown, Megan collaborates with the police from the inside to raid and shut down the illegal operation. The two lean on each other through the long aftermath of trauma, moving steadily toward healing and a new beginning.

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

Morrison, a former top CIA operative, lives under an assumed name after suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, leading a quiet farming life in a small town with his daughter Vivian. The local criminal syndicate, the Rosetti family, covets his farmland. To force Morrison into submission, Theodore, the family's young heir, kidnaps the 17-year-old Vivian and tortures her to death brutally. Having lost his sole emotional anchor, Morrison casts aside his medication restraints entirely, unearths the stockpile of weapons he has hidden away for a decade, and storms the Rosetti manor alone to exact revenge. Senior figures within the city's police force, municipal government and the CIA are all well aware of Morrison's terrifying combat prowess from his past. They order an emergency city-wide evacuation and stand aside to let him wipe out the entire criminal family, kicking off a brutal vendetta of blood for blood. Revolving around paternal love, trauma, corrupt power networks and unbridled vengeance, the story interweaves the lingering shadows of past killings with the mutual despair and devastation of the present, unfolding an unstoppable bloody reckoning.
![[ENG DUB] They Regretted When I Took the Throne](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Noah Marr is the last surviving bloodline of his parents, a young heir who sleeps until noon, counts money until his hands cramp, and lists eating and gaming as his highest aspirations. At his own birthday banquet he announces these goals without embarrassment, and the room collectively writes him off as a useless rich boy. His fiancee moves to break off the engagement. Nobody takes him seriously. Noah takes none of it personally. Then, the people responsible for his parents’ deaths finally step into the light, and everyone who ever laughed at him gets a very different look at who they were actually dealing with. Every sneer he absorbed, every dismissal he let slide, was just silence before the thunder.

Noah Marr is the last surviving bloodline of his parents, a young heir who sleeps until noon, counts money until his hands cramp, and lists eating and gaming as his highest aspirations. At his own birthday banquet he announces these goals without embarrassment, and the room collectively writes him off as a useless rich boy. His fiancee moves to break off the engagement. Nobody takes him seriously. Noah takes none of it personally. Then, the people responsible for his parents’ deaths finally step into the light, and everyone who ever laughed at him gets a very different look at who they were actually dealing with. Every sneer he absorbed, every dismissal he let slide, was just silence before the thunder.

On the first day of my rebirth, I turn straight into the bedroom of Don Raffaele Caruso and begin undoing my clothes. In my previous life, I was in a marriage of convenience with his son, Matteo Caruso, but there was no love between us. We were notorious in Liberty City's mafia circle. Matteo believed I was the reason he lost his first love. He thought I had deliberately gone into his room the night he was drugged with an aphrodisiac, trapping him in a marriage. Hence, for eight years after our wedding, he stayed out drunk every night and refused to come home. Even when I went into obstructed labor and was on the brink of death, he never asked about me even once. Then, the hurricane came. A storm surge swallowed Liberty City. The harbor collapsed under the waves, and there was only one seat left on the evacuation boat. Everyone thought Matteo would keep it for himself. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the boat. "Go! I'm giving you my chance to live, Chiara. If there's a next life, don't come saving me again. I just want to be with Lucia." The next second, his body was dragged into the pitch-black sea. I survived, only to be hacked to death by a rival family afterward. What Matteo never knew was that he wasn't the only one who was drugged that night. His father was too. This time around, I step into the room just as the effects of the aphrodisiac take hold. Raffaele is currently forcing himself to endure it, his control stretched to the limit. I walk over and say softly, "Let me be your antidote, Don Caruso."