Human Lyra stumbles on Dragon King Kael and shares a passionate night. Tricked by a fake prophecy, he casts her out—only for Lyra to bear his half-dragon daughter Amber. Years later, she returns seeking a healer to save her sick child. Old sparks reignite, jealous rivals plot, and hidden blood ties surface as they fight for their family and broken love.

10 years ago, Marina cut off her mermaid tail to help Blackbeard's five frog-cursed sons regain their human forms. They swore to marry her, but betrayed and tormented her after falling for a prostitute's lies, unaware they must marry Marina to stay human. Heartbroken, Marina accepts Davy Jones' proposal and leaves forever. Stay frogs, you fools!,

A hidden heiress of Sinclair family builds her husband into a luxury tycoon—until his affair with the restaurant manager and a viral electro-eel attack expose his betrayal. Revealing her true identity, she destroys the empire she built for him.,

When I was five, I saw blood for the first time. It wasn’t mine. It was my father’s. He lay sprawled before the butcher block, his apron soaked in crimson, a cleaver still clutched in his hand. The elders said he “brought shame upon the family” — all because he refused to offer me as a sacrifice to the ancestral hall. So they killed him. Like slaughtering a pig. My mother knelt in the snow, clutching me, begging them to leave his body whole. No one listened. From that day on, I became the "butcher's son." Despised by all. Even dogs barked at me. Ten years later, flames roared over the same ancestral courtyard. They had my mother bound to a pillar, forcing her to watch as the last of the Lin bloodline was about to be wiped out. "Your son?" The leader sneered, blade lifting her collar. "Just another pig-killer’s brat. Today, I’ll show you what it means to be—erased." I stepped from the shadows, crushed his knee beneath my boot. Blades flashed. Heads fell. One. Two. Three… Blood trickled down my temple into my eyes, stinging. I didn’t wipe it away. My mother wept, trembling fingers reaching toward my face. I stepped back slightly, whispering, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” But I knew — the real killing game had only just begun. Last night, I broke into the cellar beneath the ancestral hall. Seven bodies floated in jars of murky liquid — all the clan members who’d “disappeared” over the years. And carved into the wall, a single line: **“True dragon blood — belongs to me alone.”** They weren’t afraid of me. They were terrified I was still alive. Because the thing my father killed that day… was never human. It was a demon wearing skin. And the blood running through my veins? That’s the true power meant to protect this clan. Now, it’s my turn. I walk deeper into the hall, blade in hand, fire devouring everything behind me. My phone screen flickers to life. Top trending headline: **#ButcherSonMassacresAncestralHall#** Comments exploding: “Serves them right! Those monsters deserved it!” I smirk, delete the notification. Open a voice recording — my mother’s final murmur before she passed out: “Xuan… run… the poison they gave you… it’s waking up…” I look down at the back of my hand. The veins are turning black. Twelve hours left. Plenty of time. This strike isn’t for redemption. Not for glory. It’s to let the world know — **Some children aren’t born to be trampled.** **They’re born to collect debts. In blood.**

Beneath the chandelier of the church, her wedding gown trailing behind her, Jessica turned away at the altar and slipped the ring onto the left ring finger of the man in the wheelchair. "Christopher, I marry you." Silence fell over the crowd. The groom froze at the altar—he was my husband, and also Christopher's elder brother. Christopher looked up at me, his eyes swirling with shock, pain, and a light that had been hidden for ten years. Suddenly, he smiled. Gripping the armrests, he shakily rose to his feet. "I'll take her," he said, his voice tearing through the silence. "From the moment I saw her at fifteen—I should have married her then." Gasps erupted among the guests. The priest stepped back. My husband's face turned ashen. "Aren't you paralyzed?" Christopher didn't answer. He only tightened his grip on my hand, just like he did that stormy night years ago, and step by step, we walked toward the door. Three days later, I returned to the century-old estate as Mrs. Christopher. The butler blocked the entrance, sneering, "How dare a woman who abandoned her fiancé set foot in the Horn family home?" I removed my glove, revealing my wedding band, then gave her a gentle push—she stumbled backward into the fountain. "Now," I stepped onto the stairs, my dress dampened but not looking back, "I am the one who gives the orders in this house." Deep in the attic, beneath the ashes of my husband's burned wedding photograph, lay a yellowed letter: *To Jessica: If you're reading this, Christopher has finally stood up—and I have, at last, lost.*

A bullet's shriek ripped through the car window, glass shrapnel exploding like a miniature storm, raining down upon us. Before I could even scream, a shadow, swift as black lightning, lunged, pinning me fiercely beneath him. The icy echo of gunshots still vibrated in the air as my new bodyguard's voice, low and strangely calm, reached my ear: "Sniper outside, Miss Isabella. Don't move." The air was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and shattered glass, a sweet, metallic tang that prickled my nostrils. Pinned beneath him, I peered through the jagged hole in the window. At the end of the red carpet, a phalanx of men in black uniforms—Walker Group's "new employees"—stood ramrod straight, like hungry wolves ready to pounce. The sheer, over-the-top grandeur of it all made me want to vomit. The true "star" arrived fashionably late. A漆黑 Maybach glided to a smooth halt. The door opened, and out stepped Sebastian White, my damn ex-fiancé. A predator's smile played on his lips, an expression that once I mistook for tenderness, but now held only stark, predatory threat. "Marry me, Isabella." He wasted no words, dropping a bomb that chilled me to the bone. "Otherwise, watch your Skyfall Group crumble under the Adams family's assault." To hell with that! Fury blazed in my chest. A family alliance? That was just a drunken joke between our fathers! Did he truly believe I was still a mere puppet, dancing to his tune? I shoved the bodyguard aside, ignoring his attempt to hold me back. "Sebastian, this engagement was a farce from the start! Get lost!" He merely offered a dismissive, sneering laugh and waved a hand. A hulking brute, like an enraged beast, lunged at my bodyguard. My pupils constricted. Could this new guy, fresh on the job, actually stand a chance against him? Yet, before the brute could even land a blow, I saw only a blur of dark lightning. Too fast for the eye to follow. *Thump!* A muffled impact, and the aggressor, who'd charged with such ferocity, recoiled as if he'd slammed into an invisible wall, flying backward to crash onto the red carpet. He coughed up a spray of blood, twitched twice, then went still. Sebastian's cigar clattered to the ground. The predatory arrogance on his face, for the first time, was utterly shattered, replaced by a flicker of shock, then raw disbelief. He bent to retrieve it, took a long, slow drag, and his sneer deepened, but a sliver of venomous malice flickered in his eyes. "You think he can protect you? Isabella, I'm giving you three days." His voice turned even more sinister, like a viper's hiss. "Three days to either accept, or the Walker Group will personally bury your Skyfall. Don't say I didn't warn you then." My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. This man didn't just want my company; he wanted to destroy my entire family. Who *is* he, truly? And this bodyguard by my side, a newcomer who'd just displayed such impossible strength… who is *he*? In these three days, how am I supposed to turn this around?