

Pressured by her family to marry, Faith Miller impulsively marries a beggar in a flash decision. Unbeknownst to her, her new husband is Rocco Fitch, the CEO of the Fitch Group, who lost his memory in a plane crash. As Faith cares for him, Rocco’s memories slowly return, and the mysteries surrounding the crash unravel.

In her past life, Christie Reynolds made a fateful mistake in love, falling victim to a misjudgment of character that led to a tragic betrayal. Burned to death as a result, she gets a second chance at life through rebirth. Determined to right the wrongs of her past, she vows to marry the man who had courageously rushed into the fire to save her, even if he was known as a notorious playboy. Initially, she marries him out of deep gratitude, but after the wedding, she finds herself showered with an unprecedented level of affection. It seems she is going to be utterly and completely indulged!

In his last life, Yael Summers wrote several songs for his eldest sister, making her a famous singer, but his brother Zayne took the credit. After being misunderstood by everyone, Yael died on a winter night. Unexpectedly, Yael was reborn and went back to five years ago. This time, he had already known the true colors of his family. So he decided to leave the family, sing those songs himself, and try to become a top singer.
![[ENG DUB] My Wife Has Too Many Secrets](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Eric Getz discovers that something's off about his wife, Gina Bell.A thorough investigation leads to him uncovering Gina's plot to work with her boss, Peter Lane, in swindling Eric's properties and assets via fake investments. Eric remains calm and composed as he slowly gathers solid evidence and uses legal methods to seek justice. It goes to show that those who cross boundaries will receive retribution in the end.

Six years ago, heiress Milo left penniless Asher to save her failing family, keeping her pregnancy a secret. Now a ruthless tech billionaire still bitter about the past, Asher reunites with Milo at a gala — she's now a desperate single mom, scrambling to pay for their son Leo's life-saving heart surgery. As the truth of her sacrifice unfolds, a guilt-stricken Asher sets out to win her back, secures top care for their son, brings the real culprit to justice, and earns his second chance at love...

Photographer Cecilia Stone is pushed by her best friend to go on a blind date, but fate has other plans—she accidentally ends up with her friend’s older brother, Yves Jensen, and they marry on a whim. By day he’s a stern CEO; by night, he’s tender. To keep their marriage, he hides his identity,sparking a hilarious, heartwarming tale of marriage first, love later.

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.