Call Call Call

The night before I gave birth, my husband was in bed with another woman. At 39 weeks pregnant, Kaidora thought she was the luckiest woman alive. A loving husband. A happy marriage. A baby on the way. Until a midnight call shattered everything. “Your husband is so good in bed, I can't seem to get enough of him.” Moments later, a video arrived. Her husband, Ronald, the devoted man who claimed he was away on business… was tangled in sheets with another woman. While she prepared to give birth to their child. But betrayal was only the beginning. When her water broke, her mother-in-law refused to call an ambulance. When her baby was delivered, she was told the child was born deformed… and died. But something doesn’t add up. The prenatal reports were perfect. And her husband was desperate to stop her from investigating. Why? As grief turns into suspicion, Kaidora begins to uncover a horrifying truth: her child’s death may not have been an accident… and her marriage may have been a carefully crafted lie from the very beginning. I had two choices: crumble, or burn it all down. I chose the fire. Because a woman who survives betrayal, humiliation, and the loss of her child has nothing left to fear. Kaidora thought she knew what rock bottom looked like. She had no idea it was just the beginning — and that the man waiting to pull her back up would shake her world far more than the one who destroyed it. And when Kaidora rises from the ashes, she won’t just ask for justice. She will demand revenge.

I'm in the hills for a project inspection when a sudden downpour hits. I lose my footing and tumble down a steep slope. Lying in a pool of blood, I fumble for my phone and call my husband, Joel Grant, who's supposed to be nearby. "Rachel has anxiety. I only brought her back to her hometown to help her unwind. Can you stop being so paranoid and jealous for once? You're due in two weeks. I'll be there, okay? Just behave." In the background, I hear Rachel giggle softly. "The models have to be in their birthday suit for sketching, right?" Joel hangs up without another word. My sister-in-law—and best friend—Chloe Murphy finds me. She's sobbing as she cradles me, desperately trying to call her husband, Michael Grant, for help. "Are all pregnant women insane these days?" Michael snaps. "Don't start with the same manipulative crap as Anna. Joel and I are busy modeling for Rachel. We don't have time for your petty dramas." Then he blocks her. My injuries are too severe. There's no way help will arrive in time. Despite being heavily pregnant herself, Chloe hoists me onto her back and carries me down the mountain to the nearest hospital. Somehow, I survive. My baby doesn't. Chloe, devastated and physically pushed past her limits, loses her child too. "I want a divorce," I whisper with my eyes swollen from crying. "Me too. I'm done with Michael." We filed for divorce together. That's when Joel and Michael finally lose their minds.

The night before our wedding, word spread like wildfire through high society that my fiancee had thrown herself a bachelorette party with ten virgins. When I storm into the villa, I find her nestled in the arms of my chauffeur's son, her skin blotched with fresh red marks. "It's just a wild night before the wedding. You get that, don't you?" Melissa Young says. She looks up at me with indifference, not bothering to explain herself. I catch the smug challenge in the eyes of the man holding her. My eyes burn red as I hurl the wedding invitations to the floor. "The scandal is everywhere! Have you even thought about what tomorrow's wedding will look like?" I yell. "This isn't just about you and me. It's about the future of both our families' businesses! Call a press conference and explain yourself." She frowns, irritation flickering in her eyes, but gives a grudging nod. Yet the next day, the internet explodes with a new bombshell—the Zucker heir is impotent, leaving his fiancee unsatisfied. When I demand answers, Melissa puts her foot down, her voice dripping with venom as she says, "All I see now is Nicky." She snaps, "No matter how many times you threaten to pull your investments, my mind's made up!" In that moment, the last ember of love I feel for her goes out. I call my dad, my resolve steeled. "Cut off all funding to Young Group, and buy out every one of her partnerships at triple the price!"

" No one wants to kiss chubby cheeks or sleep with a girl covered in rugs," Vince smiled as the corners of his mouth went up in a smirk. " Now get off your high horse and stop fantasizing about my perfect chest," he growled. My name is Perez, but the bullies call me Fatrez because I'm fat, not that I like being fat, their is nothing I can change about it, unless the angels decided to work out a miracle. But everything that has a beginning has an end, I could do the bullying, not that I can't. But the head of bullies is sinfully handsome, he leads as they follow. Always throwing the first comment before the rest come along. Even if he is sinfully handsome, I could never dream of me with him, the fact that am fat, call it obesity and dumb in class with extra front teeth. No one wants such a girl. Even if I was a boy I wouldn't date me. Why would he look at me twice without laughing so hard and crumbling down. The best I can do is disappear and never come back or kill myself to stop the bullies from finding other victims, they would probably die of guilt, that's my plan. But Vince is such an arrogant jerk, he could never crack, let alone feel guilty. I've got to stay alive to pay back, make his life miserable, perhaps I'll sleep at night satisfied that he is suffering because of me. But maybe the bully isn't strong like I thought, is his heart made of stone or it's all a mask to fool the world and make him feel better. His heart bleeds after all and I can injure it.

“Shut up! You’re just a nanny!” When Alpha Damon’s first love, Princess Celeste, arrived, Omega Lena’s world collapsed. She spent every day caring for her Mate Damon and their son Noah, only to face coldness and cruelty. They dismissed her as “useless,” never recognizing her sacrifices. Watching Noah call Celeste “mom” while Damon did nothing broke her completely. Determined to chase her own dreams, Lena left—and discovered she possessed a healing power reserved for royal wolves. She started a new life, while her Alpha Mate and son, full of regret, begged her to return.

My name is Brandon Westin, and I'm Carlisle Grayson's secretary and secret lover. No matter how cold he acts toward me, how much he humiliates me, or how often he "lends" me off to other people, I still choose to stick with him without any remorse or complaints. His friends call me a shameless lapdog. Carlisle calls me a twink, often blaming me for "turning him gay" and thus ruining his life. However, when I finally choose to leave him, he looks at me with red-rimmed eyes and asks, "How can you say that you don't love me?"

At the concert, my husband James Felton and his assistant ended up on the kiss cam. They made for a beautiful couple, and the clip immediately went viral. In the video, I saw my son cheering in between them. The next thing I did was share the video on my Instagram feed with the caption, [How sweet.] James immediately gave me a video call, labeling me a jealous woman. “We were only acting to fool her ex! Stop making a fuss out of everything!” Our friends in the know were all laughing behind my back, placing bets on when I would apologize. This time, however, I was not going to play to their tune.

I'm in the middle of my pediatric shift when an emergency call comes in. A three-year-old boy arrives, hemorrhaging and unconscious from a car crash, but there is no matching blood type in the bank. Then, it hits me that my husband, Ethan Stone, has the same blood type, so I ask him to donate blood right away. When he arrives and stands frozen to the spot, I can no longer hold back my rage. "What are you waiting for? Saving his life is the priority here!" That's when the boy's mother sprints over and screams, "No! Close family can't donate! He's the boy's father!"

For three years, we held a wedding in name only—my husband, Kit Rutgers, a pilot, canceled our marriage registration eighteen times. The first time, his female trainee, Katy Ferguson, had a test flight. I waited outside the county clerk’s office the whole day. The second time, he got a call from her mid-drive, made a sharp U-turn, and left me standing on the side of the road. After that, every time we planned to make it official, some crisis with Katy mysteriously arose. Eventually, I chose to walk away. But the moment I boarded a plane to Solara, he lost his mind—and chased me there.

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"