“To the world, he is a sinless saint of cinema. But in my private browser, he is a captured outlaw—stripped of his armor, completely at my mercy.” The rules of Hollywood are simple: Never trip on the carpet. Never catch real feelings for your rival. And never, ever let the world know you spend your nights running an NSFW archive dedicated to destroying him. Roxie Wilde has mastered all three. Her daylight hatred for Christian Vance—the arrogant, hyper-controlled British god of cinema—is the only real thing in her heavily manicured world. But to survive her crippling behind-the-scenes stage anxiety, she logs into her anonymous digital empire, @Anti-Christian_666, at 3 AM. There, she dissects his flaws in sharp prose and draws wickedly sinful, dark-academia fanart of him that makes the internet weep. Christian Vance has a dark secret of his own: he doesn’t read his flawless reviews; he reads his worst executioner. He’s been pathologically obsessed with his biggest anti-fan for months, fascinated by the only person alive who sees the monster beneath his tailored three-piece suits. Then, a snow-locked Icelandic movie set forces them into a mandatory, high-profile "Fake Dating" PR contract. The physical tension is suffocating. And then, Christian intercepts her unlocked iPad. He doesn’t sue his co-star. He doesn’t tell his publicist. Instead, the clinical British gentleman enters a state of dangerous amusement and begins using her own explicit fantasies to hunt her down in daylight.

By day, he is Kaelen Thorne—the god of British indie rock, an arrogant, volatile tyrant who uses his tongue like a razor blade. To the music industry, he’s untouchable. To his new plus-size assistant, Melody, he’s a walking nightmare who criticizes her 2XL hoodies and calls her an "out-of-order typing machine." Melody bites her tongue, takes the abuse, and counts down the days until her family's debt is paid. By night, he is a broken sinner drowning in the dark. Suffering from violent insomnia and a dying auditory nerve, Kaelen finds his only salvation in Siren—an anonymous, unmasked voice therapist on a black-market audio app. He doesn’t know what she looks like, but he is obsessed to the point of madness. He crawls to her through the phone line, begging for her whispers, swearing he’d burn the world down before letting her go. He thinks he’s cheating on his real-life assistant with his virtual goddess. He doesn’t know that the mouse he humiliates at 4 PM is the sovereign queen who controls his heartbeat at 2 AM. But when a global stage threatens to shatter his mind, the secret will be dragged into the spotlights. And the rock god will learn exactly what happens when you push a Siren too far.

Olivia parecia ter o casamento perfeito em Nova York — um marido bem-sucedido, uma melhor amiga confiável e uma vida luxuosa. Mas tudo era uma mentira cuidadosamente construída. Quando ela descobre a traição entre seu marido e sua melhor amiga, Olivia não reage como eles esperavam. Ela não chora. Ela não implora. Ela observa. Porque Olivia não é apenas uma esposa traída. Ela é a herdeira de um império bilionário que eles nunca imaginaram existir. E agora, cada segredo, cada mentira e cada traição vai se voltar contra eles.

Elena has the mind of an eight-year-old trapped in a twenty-four-year-old’s body, and for seven years, her only world has been Arthur, the man who promised to keep her safe forever. But when Arthur brings a new woman, Cassie, into their home and proposes a “goodbye,” Elena realizes her sanctuary is crumbling. To win back his heart, she makes a final bargain: three wishes before she is sent away. As she navigates the pain of being discarded, Elena must decide: is she willing to heal and grow, even if it means leaving the only man she has ever loved?

HELENA is the ice queen of Wall Street. When cancer stole her fertility, she didn’t grieve—she treated her survival as a corporate restructuring. She bought the perfect biological vessel. A million-dollar shadow trust, a flawless isolation period, and an iron-clad NDA. It was supposed to be a clean transaction. Until the child is born, and the surrogate refuses to leave. JULIAN is an aesthetic genius trapped in a concrete cage. Years of walking on eggshells around his powerful wife have left him emotionally castrated. Then Luna moves into the guest suite as the live-in nanny, smelling of sweet milk and submissive warmth, filling every sterile corner Helena left empty. Week one, Luna begins wearing Helena’s discontinued vintage Chanel. Week two, the baby violently screams every time Helena tries to hold him. Week three, Helena wakes up at 2:00 AM to find Luna standing in front of the master mirror, wearing her silk slip, practicing her corporate speeches with flawless precision. In this minimalist mansion of glass and shadows, a parasitic takeover has begun. But Luna made one fatal mistake: she forgot that before Helena was a mother, she was Wall Street’s most cold-blooded executioner.

“You will lose,” Balian Draven said lightly, as if discussing weather instead of fate.“Humans do not fall in love with monsters on command.” Rothgar did not answer immediately. Because monsters, in his experience, always fell in love first. With power. With fear. With inevitability. And humans? Humans always followed. “Define loss,” Rothgar finally said. Balian smiled. “A hundred women,” he said. “Six months. One proposal each. They must say yes willingly.” A pause. Then, amused: “No possession. No coercion. No tricks from the Abyss.” That last part made something in Rothgar’s expression sharpen—barely. “I do not need tricks,” he said. Balian leaned forward slightly. “Good. Then we have a wager.”