

My husband, Cesare Ferrante, the most feared Don of the Ferrante family, had always hated children. Yet everything changed the moment my stepsister, Bianca Moretti, moved in next door with her six-month-old baby. Suddenly, my husband became obsessed with that child. He personally fed the baby formula, sang lullabies, and carried the baby everywhere he went. Every day, he came home exhausted at dawn, yet his face glowed with joy, as if that baby occupied his entire soul. I became invisible to him. Three days ago, someone forced my car off the road, and I crashed into the median. Blood streamed down my forehead, and my vision swam. I called Cesare 55 times. He did not answer a single call. Instead, he posted a photo of the baby on his social media. [My little angel smiled today!] I had had enough. Tonight at the family banquet, every member of the famiglia was seated around the table. I raised my final toast, then set down my glass. "I want a divorce." They all froze. "Are you insane?" My parents' voices rose in unison. Cesare grabbed my wrist, disbelief written across his face. "Giulia, you want to divorce me just because I was busy taking care of the baby and didn't answer your calls? You're actually jealous of a six-month-old child?" I did not meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the glaring kiss mark behind his ear. "Since you love that child so much," I said calmly, "I'll make it easy for you. Go be that child's father."

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

After a severe car accident, 7-year-old Isabella Wellington was abandoned after having her blood drained out by evil family members, in order to keep her own brother alive. 17 years later, Olivia struggles to fight off brutal bullying from the Wellingtons whom she works for. Unknown to the Wellingtons, their target of bullying, daughter raised by a janitor, Olivia, is in fact Isabella Wellington, the precious lost heiress, whom they have been searching for for 17 years.

Josefina, once a beauty queen, married into the prestigious Quincy family in glory—but soon discovered her husband, Clinton, had a secret room plastered with women's photos, with her just another target. To her shock, Clinton was also involved with her sister-in-law,Queena.Determined to protect herself,Josefina secretly conceived via IVF and began plotting her revenge. Navigating the Quincy family's power struggles, she allied with Clinton's brother, Shane, to outmaneuver her adversaries. In the end, when Queena drove off with Clinton, both meeting a tragic fate, the high-society feud finally concluded. Josefina's trials over, she emerged stronger, and her destiny took a surprising new turn.

The well-known actress Mia Stone has been set up by her sister with the intention of ruining her reputation. However, in a twist of fate, she ends up having a one-night stand with Jay Lynch, the CEO of Lynch Group. Disappearing from the spotlight for a year, Mia resurfaces on the day she gives birth, crossing paths with Jay once more.

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help.

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help.

A devoted wife is buried alive by her husband and his mistress. She survives. Now she's back—not as the woman they betrayed, but as someone else. Someone with money. Power. And a score to settle. Revenge is a dish best served cold. But Lena's revenge is served with a new face, a new name, and a partner who has just as much to lose.