The second the pool water rose over my lashes, I heard Beth’s stiletto heels crush the crystal champagne tower. “Loyalty?” She crouched at the pool’s edge, the tip of her scissors pressing against the neckline of my wedding gown—its silver gleam stabbing my eyes. “You stole Edward from me for three years, and now you hide behind a chastity monument?” Foam dripped from my chin into the water—green-tinged, like tears gone sour. Guests formed a half-circle around the pool, phones raised, lenses fixed on my soaked lace bodice—where a small patch of dark red bloomed: skin torn open by her fingernails moments earlier. “Look closely.” I seized her wrist—and yanked. The scissors plunged with a dull *thunk* to the pool floor. As Beth shrieked and tumbled in, I whipped off my veil and looped it tight around her throat. At the explosion of water, every livestream feed flickered—three seconds of static snow. A backdoor I’d planted last night, deep inside the villa’s security system. She thrashed, choking, pearls flying from her ears just before vanishing down the drain. I leaned in, lips brushing her burning ear: “Stepmother dear… In your husband’s study safe—the third compartment—you’ll find seven paternity reports.” A sharp, rhythmic *click-clack* echoed from the doorway—leather on marble. Not Edward’s usual Oxford shoes. Boots. Military issue. I wiped foam from my eyes and looked up. Framed in the arched entryway, backlit by the sun, stood a man in black tactical gear. A rusted copper bell dangled from his left ear. The faded eagle insignia on his shoulder patch matched—exactly—the one pinned to the lapel of the officer who stood beside my father’s casket fifteen years ago. Beth froze. Her nails dug deep into my forearm. “...Colonel Lin? You were declared KIA in Afghanistan.” He didn’t glance at her. His gaze locked onto my left hand—my ring finger. Where a diamond should have glinted, only a faint pale line remained. “Anna.” His voice was raw, like sandpaper dragged over corroded iron. “Your mother’s last words were this: *So long as that ring remains, the one who took the fall for you hasn’t died yet.*” The pool water shimmered—an unnatural, electric blue. I looked down. Beneath my waterlogged wedding skirt, glowing digits rose slowly from the depths: **07:23:11** Seven hours, twenty-three minutes, eleven seconds—left on the countdown.

Aidan is dumped by his girlfriend on their wedding day and quickly marries Flora, the CEO of the Vale Group. What seemed like a peaceful life turns chaotic when Flora suspects Aidan might be the lost heir, Wyatt. As their fates intertwine, Aidan gets caught in family power struggles... What secrets lie beneath this sudden marriage?

I went blind saving an old woman with white hair. The whole city was talking—Miss Pennington was going to repay my kindness by making me her grandson’s wife. But no one knew the truth—it wasn’t gratitude. It was atonement. When Luke Pennington first saw me, he sneered, "You’re a good actor. A delivery guy willing to risk your life for a hundred thousand in reward money?" He thought I was just another poor scammer, kneeling outside the hospital, faking a sob story for sympathy. I didn’t explain. Because that night, the rain was too heavy, the ambulance lights too blinding—I only remembered how her falling silhouette reminded me of the old grandmother who once gave me a warm bowl of noodles as a child. So I said, "Fine. I’ll marry you." On the eve of the wedding, he stormed into my room with a bottle of red wine, mocking, "Name your price. How much to walk away? The Penningtons won’t let you down if you divorce quietly." I didn’t speak. I stepped off the bed barefoot, trembling hands sliding down his pants, fingertips brushing the tip of his leather shoe. Then gently, I held it. He froze. After that, he started coming every day to put eye drops in my eyes. His fingers always paused slightly against my eyelids. Smiling, I asked, "What are you looking at?" "You," he said. "Making sure you're really blind." I replied, "You’re not ugly. You just don’t want to be seen." Then she appeared—my so-called “mother.” Dressed in cheap clothes, she took the check and tore up the contract in front of Luke. "This marriage is a transaction. She knew the chairman was your grandmother all along. Every move was calculated!" Luke turned and left without a word. The night he threw the engagement ring into the fountain, the entire Pennington family laughed at how foolish I was. But three days later, I removed my sunglasses in court, facing the judge and the press. "There’s something I’d like to say now." "I’m not Joedy. The real Joedy died in a fire three years ago." "And I… am the illegitimate daughter you abandoned in that burning house." The courtroom erupted. Security footage played—showing me rushing into the smoke to save someone. And that “mother”? A nurse paid to take my place. I stood, turning toward Luke in the gallery, his face pale. "You said this marriage was fake." "But tell me—of every tear I’ve shed for you, which one wasn’t real?" Silence swept the hall. Suddenly, he stood, walked slowly toward me, knelt on one knee, and slipped an old ring back onto my finger—the one he had secretly carved by hand when I wasn’t looking. "Joedy," his voice cracked, "this time… let me beg you. Don’t go." Outside, sunlight poured through the windows. I closed my eyes—but for the first time, I truly “saw” the light.

When Dr. Joseph Johnson meets Charles Summers, a fearless racing star secretly battling a humiliating condition, the spark between them is instant—and wild. Through treatment, Joseph draws Charles into a whirlwind of obsession and desire, blurring the line between care and control… But when passion shifts into obsession, who will be the true prey in the end?

I Kissed a CEO, and He Liked It The champagne tower shimmered coldly beneath the crystal chandeliers. When Alice stepped into the ballroom in ten-centimeter heels, every man’s gaze shifted—just slightly. She wore a black dress, a pearl necklace resting on her collarbone like a drop of poison suspended mid-fall. Jack approached with a wine glass in hand, his tie loosened by one button, eyes flickering over the pearls at her chest. He smirked, “All the female guests tonight have good taste.” Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly traced a finger across his lapel, leaving behind a faint red mark—the color of her lipstick. “You’ve mistaken me,” she whispered. “I’m not a guest.” Before the words faded, a waiter stumbled into her, spilling red wine all over her skirt. Silk clung to her thigh. The crowd tittered. Someone murmured, “Who is she? Pretending to be high society and now completely humiliated.” But she smiled. At exactly 10:07 p.m., surveillance footage showed her entering the CEO’s private elevator. No access card swipe. Yet the door opened for her. Three days later, HR received a complaint: the Finance Director claimed he’d seen a woman’s photo hidden in Jack’s desk drawer. On the back was written: *Gabrielle Taylor, height 178cm, full measurements listed, marital status: married, husband’s surname unknown.* But Alice had never used that name. What truly sent chills down the spine was another security clip retrieved from the archives: that night, before stepping into the elevator, she’d paused in front of the grand hall mirror, adjusting her skirt. The camera zoomed in. She spoke silently to her reflection. No one could make out the words. Until I magnified it three hundred times, frame by frame. She said: “Darling, I’ve found you.” And the “you” she addressed was a charity gala photo on the wall behind Jack—a woman in pearls, arm-in-arm with him, smiling gently in the corner of the image. His wife. The one who died in a car crash five years ago. At her funeral, Jack wept against the coffin until his voice broke. Now, his new lover stood before him in the same dress, wearing the same pearls, drawing him slowly—step by step—back into hell. My phone vibrated. An anonymous message appeared: [Did you know? The real Gabrielle didn’t die in a car accident.] [You were the one who pushed her into the cremation furnace.]

After a reckless one-night stand with equestrian champion Phillips Hobbs, hotel maid Cindy Becker is caught in a scandal that forces them into a flash marriage. Bound by pride and passion yet divided by class and circumstance, their fragile union faces relentless tests—from Phillips’ devoted fiancée to the weight of family expectations. But as jealousy, rivalry, and sacrifice threaten to tear them apart, Cindy and Phillips uncover a truth neither expected: their lives have been intertwined long before that night.