Born into a nightmare of abuse, Nora was nothing but a pawn in her mother’s twisted game. After years of being treated as a scrap, she escaped and forged her own destiny in the heart of the culinary world. But when her abusive past resurfaces, demanding her liver to save her mother, Nora doesn't crumble. With a master's hands and a cold heart, she returns—not to save them, but to reclaim what is rightfully hers, one recipe at a time. This is not a story of forgiveness; it’s a story of retribution.

Rain hammered against the stone steps of St. Mary’s Cathedral. Mia Clarke backed away instinctively. One step. Then another. Until the cold stone hit her spine and there was nowhere left to go. The convoy had arrived less than thirty seconds ago. Black SUV. Headlights flooding the churchyard. Men in dark suits moving with military precision. And in the middle of all of it— him. Damien Lancaster stepped out of the car like violence wearing a tailored coat. He was devastatingly beautiful. That was the worst part. His looks weren't safe; his charm wasn't human. He was beautiful the way a loaded gun was beautiful: cold, polished, lethal. The priest tried to shield her. Two men pulled him aside instantly. Damien never even looked at them. His eyes stayed locked on Mia the entire time. She felt a sick twist in her stomach—she realized he was furious. Not a loud fury. Not rage. Something quieter. Something infinitely worse. It was the silence of a decision already made. In that quiet, he had already decided the fate of everyone here. “Mia.” Her name left his mouth softly. Almost gently. It frightened her more than a shout ever could. She turned to run. He caught her before she cleared the last step. One hand clamped around her wrist. The other dragged her hard against his chest. No hesitation. No softness. He smelled like rain, menthol smoke, and expensive whiskey. “Mia,” he repeated near her ear, his voice low enough that only she could hear it, “did you really think you could disappear from me?” She pushed against his chest with everything she had. “Let go of me.” That finally made him smile. Slowly. Beautifully. Wrong. “You vanished for eleven days,” he said quietly. “I stopped sleeping on day three.” The church bells rang overhead. Nobody moved. His men didn't even dare to breathe. Damien lowered his head slightly, forehead nearly touching hers. And in that terrifyingly intimate moment— she understood something too late. This man was not trying to win her back. He already believed she belonged to him. Forever.

Anastasia Vale spent her entire life believing love had to be earned. By obedience. By sacrifice. By making herself useful enough to stay. So when the Moon Goddess bound her soul to Kaelen Varros—the future Alpha of Black Hollow—she thought destiny had finally chosen her too. She was wrong. Because beneath the full moon, in front of the entire territory, Kaelen rejected her as his mate. And the bond backlash nearly killed her. Her wolf stopped speaking. Her body began breaking apart. And the man she would have died for watched her suffer in silence. So Anastasia disappeared. No revenge. No goodbye. No second chance. But far beyond the northern territories, something ancient catches the scent of a dying mate bond. Draven Thorne. The Alpha King feared by monsters themselves. Cold. Untouchable. Merciless. A ruler powerful enough to make entire packs kneel with a single glance. He should have ignored her. Instead— he brings the broken Luna into his kingdom… and slowly begins destroying everyone who ever made her believe love was supposed to hurt. Now Kaelen is hunting the woman he threw away. But the girl who once begged for his affection is gone. And the terrifying king standing beside her has absolutely no intention of giving her back.

Cassian Vale was built to survive. Former black-ops weapon. Mercenary commander. The kind of man people whispered about long after the blood dried. He doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t speak unless necessary. And absolutely does not let people touch him. Then he meets Evelyn Mercer. A reckless underground mechanic with grease on her cheeks, unpaid parking tickets stuffed in her pockets, and a terrifying lack of survival instincts. The first time Cassian sees her, she crashes an ice cream truck into the middle of his assassination. The second time, she insults his armored vehicle to his face. The third time? She stitches a bullet wound into his shoulder while threatening to poison his coffee if he twitches again. Evie thinks Cassian is emotionally constipated, vaguely homicidal, and incapable of acting like a normal human being. Unfortunately, she might be falling for him anyway. And Cassian— Cassian is beginning to realize that Evelyn Mercer is far more dangerous than any weapon he’s ever faced. Because for the first time in years… The monster is hesitating.

Claire Reyes only wanted one reckless night. One night to forget: the fellowship she lost, the boyfriend who called her “emotionally exhausting,” and the terrifying feeling that no matter how hard she worked, she would never truly be chosen by anyone. Then she met him. Killian Virel walked into the rooftop bar looking less like a billionaire and more like something dangerous pretending to be civilized. Cold eyes. Expensive suit. The kind of man people instinctively moved aside for without understanding why. Claire should have stayed away. Instead, slightly drunk and emotionally wrecked, she looked at the devastating stranger across the room and asked: “Do you want to have a one-night stand with me?” That should have been the end of it. Except Killian touched her like he was trying not to lose control. Looked at her like she already mattered too much. And held her afterward like letting go had become physically difficult. So Claire ran before sunrise. No note. No number. No goodbye. She thought time would bury the mistake. Unfortunately for her, Killian Virel is not a man capable of forgetting. Now the dangerously obsessive billionaire keeps appearing everywhere: outside her campus, waiting after late-night shifts, watching her like he’s restraining something violent beneath perfect composure. And the worst part? Claire is starting to realize his jealousy feels almost… predatory.

Lucien transmigrates into a billionaire CEO novel. As who? The fake young master. The disposable pawn. The guy the author throws away by chapter three. Honestly, he’s prepared for this. He’s read enough transmigration novels to know how it goes: either you wake up early enough to sabotage the real heir before the plot even starts, or you arrive during the climax and go down in spectacular, messy fashion. Lucien opens his eyes. He’s on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic. The story is already over. He’s been exposed, disowned, and shipped overseas to quietly disappear. …Great. Fantastic. It gets worse. His English is atrocious. Not technically — academically, he’s fine. But the second he has to speak out loud, his brain short-circuits into French or Chinese. He can’t even ask for extra napkins without sounding like a malfunctioning GPS. Then there’s Leon Bolton. Leon Bolton, WK's star fighter, three-time intercollegiate heavyweight champion. Campus legend says he could knock out a charging bull with one punch. Lucien hears all this in the dining hall while eating fries and goes, “So basically… North American martial arts master.” That same night, Leon has him pinned against a floor-to-ceiling window — all two meters of muscle wrapped around Lucien like he’s some rare, fragile thing built to break pretty. Lucien is red-faced, furious, half crying while kicking at Leon’s jaw. “Get off me! Go use that farm-boy strength on somebody else!” Leon catches his ankle easily. Then lowers his mouth to the arch of Lucien’s feet and kisses it slow. Unhurried. Like he has nowhere else to be. A laugh rumbles low in his chest. “Baby,” Leon murmurs, lazy and devastating. “Be good.” Notes: Heavily inspired by transmigration tropes, except the original plot barely matters after chapter two. This is really just a college campus romance about two idiots falling catastrophically in love despite a disastrous language barrier. Lucien eventually passes his English exam. Mostly because Leon refuses to stop talking filthy in his ear, and survival instincts kicked in. The fights are hot. The yearning is mutual. And according to Lucien, the crying during sex is “not my fault, okay? He’s just built unfairly.”

Ghost survived black sites, torture, overseas wars, and six years of becoming something less human and more useful. Founder of BLACK VEIL. Mercenary captain. A ghost story in tactical gear. The kind of man people called when they needed a building cleared, a body retrieved, or a problem buried so deep it stopped having a name. He was silent, brutal, untouchable. Even his own men feared him. As for someone like that— Nyra Quinn, underground mechanic and illegal street racer, had one very professional opinion: “He looks like he buries people in wet cement for stress relief.” Then one day, Ghost watched her steal a motorcycle outside a bank and chase down a robber through downtown LA traffic like she’s starring in her own action movie. He’s in the middle of a sniper assignment when it happened. One second he’s calculating wind direction. The next? Nyra tackled the guy off a bike, draged him into an alley, and started beating him with her helmet... He forgot his target existed for six seconds. For the first time in eight years. ... Later, Nyra worked under the hood of BLACK VEIL’s armored SUV while six armed mercenaries stood around like emotionally constipated furniture. She didn’t look up. > “Does your boss come with a user manual, or is the mask supposed to explain the whole personality disorder?” The garage went silent. Because no one talked about Ghost. Not like that. Not in front of him. Ghost stood beside the vehicle, skull mask turned toward her. After a long pause, he said, > “Nyra.” She rolled out from under the engine with a wrench in her hand. > “What?” His grey eyes lowered to the grease on her cheek. Then to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. > “Come here.” Nyra narrowed her eyes. > “If this is a murder thing, I’m charging extra.” Ghost’s voice dropped lower. Rougher. > “I lost focus on a job today.” Nyra blinked. > “Congratulations on having a human experience?” His men stopped breathing. Ghost didn’t move. > “Because of you.” Nyra stared at him. The wrench slipped slightly in her hand. Across the garage, Kane muttered, > “We’re all completely fucked.” ① Emotionally repressed masked mercenary captain × sunshine chaos mechanic ② He kills people for touching him. She touches his mask and asks if he’s hiding scars or feelings under there. ③ Slow burn / touch-starved antihero / found family mercenaries / black humor / “she makes the monster hesitate.”

Enemies to Lovers｜Forced Proximity｜Age Gap｜ HE｜ Both equally strong "Younger aggressive crybaby top × older even more aggressive bottom." On the very first day they met, Lucian threw a fit of his typical young-master temper, only to be pinned to the floor and beaten by Sebastian. After the dust settled, Sebastian wiped his hands clean. "Have dinner ready in half an hour, or the beating continues." Lucian sobbed his way through the cooking, dumping a pound of salt into the steak. Later, Lucian tried to get revenge by drugging him, but it only caused Sebastian’s old back injury to flare up. He couldn't move, let alone use the bathroom. Lucian ended up kneeling by the bed to serve him, crying even harder than the man in pain. Further down the road— Lucian: "I’ve seen every inch of you by now. We’re the closest people in the world." Sebastian: "A hired nurse could have seen just as much." Lucian hugged him, his eyes reddening. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be your nurse forever." Sebastian looked down at the hand surreptitiously wandering around his waist and let out a cold sneer. "If that hand doesn't behave, I’ll break the other one too." Lucian was the definition of a spoiled heir—until his father’s empire crumbled overnight in Celaya, leaving him with nothing but a suitcase and a cold, sharp-tongued guardian in Crestmont. Sebastian, a high-stakes attorney with a disciplined life and a hidden past, wasn't about to play babysitter. On their first day, Lucian's temper flared, and Sebastian answered with a lesson the boy wouldn't forget. In this house, there are rules. Break them, and you’ll pay. But as Lucian learns to cook, clean, and cry in Sebastian’s shadow, the line between hatred and obsession begins to blur. He’s a crybaby in the kitchen, but a predator in the making.

Zora had transmigrated into a book. In her mind, a voice resonated—the Oracle. [Congratulations on your second chance at life! Your mission is as follows—] [Target the villain while he is still at his weakest. Capture his heart and prevent the impending end of the world.] In her past life, Zora was a killing machine bred in the darkest pits of the Arena. Now, she’s transmigrated into a high-magic world with one absurd mission: tame the world-ending villain while he’s still weak. Her method? Instead of offering warmth and love, she plunges golden puppet threads into his very marrow. "Stay still," she whispers, using the villain’s blood to warm her frozen hands. To the Oracle's horror, Zora treats the future destroyer of worlds like a stray pup—ordering him to cook, clean, and keep the fire burning. But as Vane’s shattered bones heal under her command, his gaze turns from lethal hatred to something far more dangerous. He was supposed to destroy the world, but now, he only wants to be the most powerful puppet in hers.