

Vicky Bell disguises herself as an innocent secretary and infiltrates CEO Heath Kemp's company to uncover why he abandoned her elder sister and bring him down. But Heath sees through her from the start—yet keeps her close. He indulges her schemes, watches her act, and even helps her hide the truth. What follows is a tense game of mutual testing, a relentless push and pull where trust and obsession blur.

After transmigrating into the role of a doomed noblewoman, Yuna York wakes up only to be rejected and slapped by the Crown Prince. To stay alive, she kisses the empire's most feared and powerful "eunuch", Nolan Channing. But beneath his cold exterior lies a man capable of deep devotion. As she struggles to survive by winning Nolan's favor while saving her family from tragedy, Yuna gradually changes both their fates.

Catherine, a divorced middle-aged woman, runs a small flower shop by day and hosts adult live streams by night—all to pay off her debts. One fateful night, Liam, a young Mafia with fresh wounds, stumbles into her life, and Cathrine kindly offers shelter. As time passes, Catherine comes to a quiet realization: she is the one being protected. This unpredictable young man quietly acts like a loyal and sexy puppy, yet he harbors a long-buried secret. Liam is the underground King. And Catherine? She is the very person he has been searching for, for the past ten years.....

After her parents' death, Sienna is forced to accept her stepfather's brother — the ruthless arms dealer Kian Voss — as her guardian. Desperate to escape, she follows him into a secret SM club, only to be masked and delivered into his private room. Her plan to expose him spirals into dangerous, addictive desire...

After the werewolf leader Akasha was forced into suicide by the vampire Eric, her soul was transferred into the body of a recently deceased girl by the Grim Reaper. The Reaper offered her a deal: if she married Eric within 49 days, she could be brought back to life. Reluctant at first, Akasha's resolve hardened when she learned of her family's fate at the hands of the new leader, Francis. Driven by vengeance, she reluctantly agreed to strike a bargain with the Grim Reaper.

Camille Sloane discovers while reapplying for her marriage certificate that she's still legally unmarried—her husband Malcolm Rourke's actual registered wife is his assistant Sierra Lowell. Shocked and heartbroken, Camille learns everything was orchestrated by Malcolm and witnesses him flirting with Sierra at the office.She decides to apply for immigration to leave him forever. Though Camille wants to leave peacefully, Sierra refuses to let her go, provoking her at Camille's birthday banquet and even self-harming to frame her. Camille fights back, but Malcolm wavers and repeatedly hurts her for Sierra's sake.Completely heartbroken, after receiving immigration approval, Camille prepares to leave but is kidnapped by Sierra's scheme and subjected to ninety-nine lashes by Malcolm, who doesn't know the truth. In her fading consciousness, Camille discovers her parents' deaths hide deeper secrets, and she vows to make Malcolm and Sierra pay the price.

In a world where spiritual energy has revived, every being is born with a true name engraved in their soul, never revealed to others. To expose it is to reveal one’s fatal weakness. Yet Max Carter, a lazy, ordinary antique street security guard, is a glitch in this world. His left eye sees through all illusions and reveals true names. With a glance he sees past and future, and with a word, he decides life, death, and even reincarnation.

Forced by her father’s betrayal, Elara shatters Hadrian’s heart by pretending to choose another man.Six years later, she is secretly raising her sick son, while Hadrian has risen as the ruthless Vampire King.When they meet again, old hatred ignites with a love neither of them ever buried.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.