

Nineteen-year-old college freshman Carl West was entrusted by his mother, who was away on a business trip, to the care of their neighbor Joanna Luca. Joanna, thirty-eight, had a husband who was rarely home and ran a women’s clothing store by herself. She took excellent care of herself, had a full figure, and was easygoing and generous, never shy about walking around in revealing clothes in front of Carl. Carl was deeply drawn to her mature feminine charm, while Joanna also treated him with the closeness of one of her own kids—pulling him into workouts, making videos, and their daily contact steadily intensified the ambiguous tension between them. One night, after helping Joanna carry her handbag back to her door, Carl heard her husband’s furious shouting from inside. Joanna’s husband, Michael Luca, demanded to know whether she was having an affair, punched and kicked Carl, and publicly humiliated Joanna. Carl was completely defenseless. In the course of seeking revenge, Carl was repeatedly beaten and humiliated by Michael and his men. While enduring the humiliation, he secretly investigated and learned that Michael had gotten ahead by sleeping with his boss Lucas’s wife, Sarah. So Carl teamed up with Dick, a former subordinate whom Michael had cuckolded, and set a trap to let Michael’s boss Lucas catch him in the act himself. After Michael was ruined and reduced to a street beggar, Joanna successfully divorced him, and in the end she and Carl started a new life together.

Once a wealthy heiress, Stella Smith's life takes a tragic turn when her parents become comatose after an accident, and her fiancé betrays her. By a twist of fate, she is pregnant with Jay Pace's child, though she mistakenly believes the father is someone else. Years later, she returns with her child and reunites with Jay Pace as his subordinate, totally unaware that her boss is actually the father of her child. A series of misunderstandings ensue which sparks a growing affection between the two. As the misunderstanding clears up, the reunited family finds their happily ever after.

Someone @'d me on Nextdoor. "Hey, penthouse girl. You're single. What do you need a whole rooftop garden for? My husband's throwing a party. We'll be needing it starting tomorrow." "Don't worry, we'll give you two hundred bucks a month for upkeep. You'll make a couple hundred for doing jack shit. You should be thrilled." I stared at the screen. It was a joke. I was Don Ricci's heir, groomed to run the South Side. But I traded that life for a paintbrush. This apartment was my sanctuary, my quiet place. That rooftop garden wasn't some building perk. It was mine. I'd paid half a million cash for the deed when I bought the place. I turned it into my sunroom studio. And now someone thinks they can have it for two hundred bucks a month? I replied with two words: "Dream on." I didn't expect the building manager and two security guards at my door the next day. Someone had filed a complaint about me "misusing community resources." And now, for the sake of "neighborly harmony," they were demanding my keys. Fine. They wanted to throw civility out the window? They were about to learn what real power felt like.

Grace chooses mahjong over her granddaughter, leaving Coco in the kitchen. Coco manages a brief call to her mother Rita before her smartwatch dies, during which Rita senses something is wrong. Desperate, Rita repeatedly calls her mother-in-law, but the noise of the mahjong table drowns out her calls. She then contacts her husband Leo, only to be dismissed while he is with his first love. By the time Rita finds Coco, the child has succumbed to gas poisoning. Leo refuses to accept the tragedy born of neglect and misplaced loyalty until he sees Coco's portrait at the funeral home.

Irene, forced by her own family to become a sacrificial bride, falls into a dangerous romance with Kristoff, the cursed black dragon. As conspiracies close in, can she escape her cruel fate?

To get back at her stepsister/love rival Joan Shaffer, Sylvia Salazar climbed into the bed of Joan's super-rich uncle Jeremy Shaffer and slept with him.Many people thought that Sylvia, her family's burden, had offended Mr. Shaffer, and he'd surely skin her alive. But actually, the overbearing business tycoon doted on Sylvia. When she was bullied, he even said, "I won't do justice—I'll only back Sylvia up!"

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.

I brought my three-month-old pup, Nico, to my mate's pack for the Moon Gathering. The Blackwood pack lived deep in the northern pines, hidden from human eyes. Margaret Bailey was the Luna of the Blackwood pack, mated to the aging Alpha who rarely left his den. Her word was law in the longhouse. While my pup was sleeping, my niece, Raven Blackwood, and her friends carried him to the second floor of the longhouse and threw him out the window. My baby died right in front of me. I lost my mind. I shifted and tried to carry him to the pack healer, but it was already too late. He was gone before we ever made it there. Because my niece was still a minor under pack law, she barely faced any consequences. The Council ordered her family to pay eight hundred thousand dollars in blood money, but my sister-in-law, Seraphine Stone, howled and screamed, accusing me of trying to destroy their bloodline. I cried until I felt like my heart had been clawed out. All I wanted was justice. But my mate, Damien Blackwood, and the Luna, Margaret Bailey, only snarled at me. "Raven is just a pup too! Are you really going to destroy her future just because your son died?" I never got my revenge. In the end, grief and hatred hollowed me out. That winter, I died of a broken heart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the Moon Gathering. This time, I immediately called my birth pack and asked them to take my son away. But even then, my niece still threw a baby from the upstairs window.

Jess Willis gets sucked into a novel set in the 1980s where she's the villainous ex-wife of a disabled big shot who dies early. She's stuck with a "villain system" that says she has to stir up drama and be awful to everyone before she can go home. Jess's like, "Play the villain? Hell no!" But then she's like, "Actually, you know what? Villains have way more fun!"She rolls up her sleeves and starts living her best chaotic life—except she doesn't know her whole family can hear her thoughts. The family grows closer than ever, and even her disabled husband recovers and becomes completely devoted to her!

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.