

The day I won the eight-million-dollar East Harbor renovation bid, I handed the lead role to Grace Whitman, Ethan Hale’s childhood sweetheart. Ethan thought I had finally learned to be sensible. He happily told me he was taking me to the Maldives for our wedding anniversary. Grace found out that night. She pretended the pressure from work was too much and cried uncontrollably. Ethan panicked so badly that he canceled a board meeting, stayed with her for three days, then called our anniversary trip an emergency client visit and gave Grace the second ticket. When he called me, his tone was still calm, almost entitled. “Sofia, we can talk about emotional stuff later. The company comes first right now. Grace has never handled a project this big on her own. I need to be there with her.” “You’re my wife. You should understand.” I sat alone in our empty apartment and looked at the photo Grace had just posted. In the private airport lounge, Ethan had draped his jacket over her shoulders. Their knees almost touched. Her caption read, [Some people never have to say love. They just show up first, every time.] I didn’t question him. I didn’t cry. I only replied, [Okay.] Ethan probably thought I had finally learned my place. Satisfied, he promised that when he came back, he would give me an even better anniversary. What he didn’t know was that I had already submitted my resignation to Hale Creative. And he didn’t know that the document he had signed three days ago wasn’t a project authorization form. It was our divorce agreement. By the time he realized what he had lost, I was no longer Mrs. Hale. I was Sofia Bellandi again. And Bellandi women do not beg for seats at tables they built.

Raised by the Yoners, Autumn discovers she's not their biological child but the heiress of the prestigious Yale family. The real Yoner daughter, Vivian, now a destitute beggar, is manipulated by a vengeful former housekeeper to disgrace the Yoners. When Autumn is betrayed and confined by her adoptive parents, Xenith Yale emerges, offering support and encouragement. Together they unravel the conspiracy, restoring Autumn's rightful place and finding love amidst turmoil, while Vivian and her accomplice face their comeuppance.

Fiona Quest, heiress of the Quest family, is seen as a reckless socialite but secretly protects her family's legacy. Concerned by scandals, her grandmother assigns Sean Granger to "reform" her. Unknown to all, Sean is the Granger heir Fiona once saved, and he has long harbored feelings for her. As they grow closer, affection blooms. Together, they expose Sheri Quest's schemes, restore justice, heal the feud between families, and find love with each other.

A scheming, sharp-witted young noblewoman transmigrates into a novel to rewrite her doomed fate, turning herself from a hated outcast into everyone's favorite.
![[ENG DUB] Don't Mess With the Heiress](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
The wealthiest tycoon's daughter, Eva Stone, conceals her identity to be with the financially struggling Wills Zuck. However, Wills, driven by ambitions to align himself with the influential, betrays her by having an affair with the impostor, Lina Clark, who poses as Eva Stone. In the ultimate revelation, Eva unveils her true identity, delivering a resounding blow to the unfaithful man and deceitful woman in a compelling tale of intrigue and personal triumph.

After the death of Sophie, the daughter of the Winter family, one of the wealthiest families in town, her husband Chad, along with his first love, international superstar Brianna, and their child, take her body to the Winter family to demand a fortune. Reborn, Sophie vows to strike back with everything she has. Since you've chosen your 'perfect woman,' I wish you a lifetime of happiness—may you stay together forever!

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.

Lydia Steele arrives at the Golden Glow Awards as its celebrated, veiled screenwriter. The night turns brutal when she’s publicly humiliated as a “mistress” and betrayed by her own husband. But the shocking truth is—she is not just a genius writer, but also the secret heir to the all-powerful Everworld empire. With her brother’s arrival, the tables turn. Now, every betrayer will pay.

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.