A homeless girl named Lil saves an expensive watch belonging to nightclub owner Nathan Sterling. He takes her into his home, where tension and romance begin to spark between them. But Lil turns out to be more than she seems — she helps uncover a web of fraud at the casino. Nathan offers her a job and a place to stay, and though they try to resist their feelings, the attraction only grows stronger. However, looming in the background are Nathan’s jealous fiancée and dangerous enemies from his past.

My father was going to sell the family airline, and I knelt, begging him all night. He sneered, "What do you know? The Four Families are colluding to drive prices down—we can't hold on." With tear-filled eyes, I tremblingly dialed Rudra’s number. "Help me… they’re selling Skyjet to the Chen family." "Don’t be afraid," he said. "I’m on my way." Half an hour later, the grand ballroom doors burst open. He walked in, dressed in a black suit, and silence fell across the room. My father frowned. "Aren’t you the illegitimate son I cast out? How dare you show your face here?" I froze. Illegitimate son? But Rudra only smiled, slowly untying his tie. "Father, you’re mistaken. I’m not your illegitimate son—I’m your firstborn heir, the one you personally sent away. Records can be altered. DNA cannot." The room erupted in shock. Then he turned to me, his gaze soft as firelight in a snowstorm. "Aylia, I’m sorry I kept this from you for three years." He pressed play on his phone. A recording began—four male voices, the heads of the Four Families, conspiring to swallow Skyjet whole. And leading it all? My own father. "Just marry your daughter off to the Chen heir, and thirty billion will hit your account immediately." I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Rudra gently took my hand. "I won’t let you marry him. And I won’t let them sell." "Because—" he lifted his eyes, scanning the crowd, voice cold as ice—"over the past three months, I’ve quietly acquired 51% stakes in all four families’ companies through offshore entities." My father collapsed into his chair. "You… when did you…?" "From the moment you first forced Aylia to sign that contract," he replied calmly. "You said she wasn’t fit to lead. But the one truly unfit… is you." Tears streamed down my face. Now I understood why he always took secret calls late at night, why he knew every merger clause by heart, why he once whispered, “I’ll give you a home that’s safe forever.” He didn’t come to save me. He came to take everything back. And I? I had already fallen willingly into the game he designed. In the epilogue, I browsed his old phone and found the first note he ever wrote: [Wait for the day her father betrays her—that’s when I reclaim everything.] Beneath it, in smaller text: [Oh, and I genuinely fell in love with her. Unplanned.]

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?

Sunlight spilled over the town's streets, like a layer of gilded pretense, unable to mask the smoke simmering beneath. Kevin Brown, sharp in a tailored suit, cradled ninety-nine red roses, arm-in-arm with his new lover, Linda—youthful, radiant, smiling like a queen who’d just claimed her prize. He stepped lightly, as if this day crowned the peak of his life. Then, a sudden shove. He crashed to the ground, roses scattering across the pavement, body slamming into the street. Ava stood before him, coat billowing, eyes cold enough to freeze summer itself. "You've got the nerve to show your face?" Her voice was low, yet it silenced the entire block. Kevin scrambled up, straightening his tie with a smirk. "Ava, don't be dramatic. You're just a page I turned long ago." He pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it. "See this? A ten-billion-dollar contract. Signed by me. I reached the top without you." Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Linda giggled behind her hand, "Oh my, is the ex-wife here to beg for reconciliation? A freelancer scraping by on odd jobs—what right does she have standing here?" The air froze. Ava didn’t look at her. Slowly, she drew a document from her bag. Gold lettering gleamed on the cover: **Washington Family Equity Inheritance Deed**. She placed it gently at Kevin’s feet. "You're right," she said, voice calm. "I am the past. But you forgot one thing—your first startup capital came from me mortgaging my family trust. Those three years you slept in your office, surviving on instant noodles—who drove through the night to bring you meals, rewrite your PPTs, secure your first investor? It was that 'freelancer' who spent five years of her youth lifting you to the sky." She paused, gaze slicing like a blade. "And when the child in my womb bled away, alone in a hospital—you were out buying Linda her engagement ring." The crowd erupted. Linda’s smile shattered. Kevin opened his mouth, but no sound came. In the deafening silence, he suddenly dropped to one knee, pulling a massive diamond ring from his chest pocket. He shouted at Linda, "Marry me! Now! Right here! Let the world see who I choose!" Scattered applause broke out. Phones rose to record. Some cheered. Linda nodded through tears. But just as the ring neared her finger— Ava spoke, soft and clear: "You want this marriage?" She paused, lips curling slightly. "I’ll give it to you." Silence fell. She turned and walked away, coat flaring, silhouette unyielding. Leaving only a whisper, carried off by the wind: "Good luck, Kevin. After all… what I’m reclaiming has never been just a man." The camera pulls back. Sunlight still glows, bright and golden. But everyone knows— the storm has only just begun.

Neon lights cast mottled shadows on the iron gate of the underground garage, just like that rainy night twelve years ago—when my mother left me at the orphanage door, raindrops dripping from the edge of her umbrella. "Tess, get in the car." Kyle's voice was low, as if seeping up from beneath the earth. He always appeared at this hour, his leather jacket smelling of smoke, knuckles bruised and unhealed, yet his gaze burning hot enough to melt through my final defenses. I shouldn't have trusted him. But when my father’s fist came crashing toward my skull for the third time, it was Kyle who kicked the door open and fired a shot that shattered the chandelier above the living room. Glass rained down like an avalanche, and he yanked me into the car, slamming the accelerator to the floor. "You can't run away," Mother Grace suddenly said from the corner of the rearview mirror, wearing that beige dress I remembered from childhood photos, cradling an old teddy bear—the only thing she'd ever left me. The car screeched to a halt. "She's back," I whispered. Kyle didn’t speak. He only pressed the gun into my palm. We returned to that house. A steaming bowl of soup sat on the dining table. Grace smiled, wiping her hands: "My darling, I've waited so long for this day." Father sat at the head of the table, grinning cruelly. "You little bastard—let's see who saves you now." By the time the shouting erupted, I’d backed myself onto the balcony. Wind filled my throat; below was the same concrete where, ten years earlier, I’d broken my leg. "Jump!" Father roared. "Jump like your mother threw you away!" I closed my eyes— "Don't jump." Kyle’s voice cut through the wind. "You weren't the one left behind. You're the one who walked away." I opened my eyes. He was kneeling by the railing, blood streaming from his forehead. And then the doorbell rang again. Lana stood at the doorway, holding a birth certificate. On the cover were the words: "Tess, not biologically related." She smiled. "Sister, welcome home."

Carl Quincy, once the most feared hitman, now lives quietly with his wife Tina and daughter Charlotte, running a small diner. But when a violent cartel targets Charlotte, their peaceful life shatters. One brutal night, Carl's past resurfaces. And he's forced to become the man he swore he'd never be again...