Fuzzy Melissa

"I didn’t drug your drink," I said, my voice shaking in the dark.

"Liar," he spat. "You're just like your precious Stewart family. Deception runs in your blood, doesn't it?"

"Believe what you want," I fired back, lifting my chin. "I'm done with all of this. Done with you. I’m not going back anymore!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant , and he stepped closer, backing me against the wall until I could feel his breath on my face.

"Go ahead and leave," he growled. "But I'll always find you Elena. You're mine."


Elena, married to Reginald through her parents' ruthless machinations, naively believed she could wait for true love, only to be met with his betrayal with his first love Vivian.

Reginald, the ruthless heir to the Vanderbilt empire, thought he could control everything. Until Elena decided on divorce and disappeared, his control twisted into something he couldn't believe.

Five years later, Elena returns with twins in tow, and a bombshell revelation stuns everyone - she is the mysterious CEO of the Phoenix Group, rising from nothing to Vanderbilt's top rival in just two years.

With Reginald claiming her as his and the twins revealed as his, Elena must decide: give in to him or keep fighting for her freedom.

"You're beautiful when you're dangerous," he murmured, ice-blue eyes burning into mine as shadows writhed around my feet.
"I don't need another Alpha who thinks he owns me," I snapped, yet stepped closer, drawn by his raw power.
His hand caught my wrist, thumb tracing the silver chain marks Magnus had left. "Who dared mark what's mine?"
Heat pooled low in my stomach at his possessive words. "I'm not yours."
"Your racing pulse says otherwise." His thumb found my heartbeat, and I couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped.
"Let go," I breathed, even as I leaned into his touch.
"Make me." His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me against his hard chest. "Tell me you don't want this."
The lie died on my lips as his scent made my head spin with need.


Nephele survived two years as Magnus's captive Luna, believing she was wolfless trash. While enduring his brutality, her blood was secretly harvested by Ophelia—the woman who raised her. When she finally escapes, she learns the truth: she's the last Shadow Wolf princess, stolen as a baby. Now both want their valuable weapon back.
Half-dead in the forest, she's saved by Kaedan—the boy who once gave her an apple, now the ruthless Frost King. She won't trade one prison for another, but his touch sets her on fire and his protection feels dangerously like home.
Can a broken girl trust the king who could destroy her completely?

He saved me from the abyss, only to drag me into hell.
Three years ago, Jasmine thought Lyndon was her savior—he pulled her back from the brink of suicide, gave her a life of luxury and endless devotion. Until she discovered:
The assistant who ruined her was his lover.
The child's death was their calculated murder.
Every "I love you" was a blood-stained lie.
When the truth unraveled, she chose to tear apart this perfect illusion—even if it meant burning herself, she would make sure her enemies fell forever.

I died watching my step-sister smile as I fell to my death. The poison she fed me for years had finally worked, and the world called me a cheating disgrace.
Reborn six months before the Olympics, I'm back with the memory of her betrayal burning in my veins. This time, I see her every sly move coming. This time, I know about the dropper of poison she hides behind her back.
They took my gold, my family, and my life. But they made one mistake: they didn't make sure I was finished.
This time, the gold isn't the prize. It's the weapon. And I will use it to destroy them all.

"I'm getting married. His name is Alex Ricci." Facing her ex-boyfriend Tyler's humiliation, Valeria blurts out a fake fiancé.

The next second, the legendary Italian racing prince Alessandro Ricci actually appears:
"My name is Alessandro Ricci. My friends call me Alex."

Tyler's face turns white instantly.

Until Alessandro publicly pours wine over Tyler's head—
"My wife made herself perfectly clear. You had your chance and threw it away."

Until everyone discovers she's actually a top F1 test analyst—
Tyler is completely speechless.

For eighteen months, I was Adam Sterling’s secret lover.
By day, I taught his seven-year-old daughter French. By night, I warmed his bed.
He gave me a luxury apartment, expensive jewelry—everything but a commitment.
I thought I was his woman… until his ex-wife came back. That’s when I understood—I was just a high-end toy.

Used in front of her, then thrown away like trash.

I fled to Paris, carrying his child.
Now he says he loves me, that it’s real this time.
But the girl who used to get wet from just one look from him?
She's gone.

I am the Alpha's daughter—yet I could not shift.
For ten years, I loved him from the shadows, while he humiliated me in public and chose a political marriage instead.
After fleeing into the Forbidden Forest, I learned the truth:
My stepmother murdered my mother, and for fourteen years, she has been stealing my Druid power.
Now the seal is broken. Ancient magic awakens within me.
I am no longer the powerless girl they mocked.
I am Thorn—and I have returned for revenge.

Three years ago, I destroyed the only man I ever loved.

"You're not good enough for my world," I lied, watching Ethan Cross's heart shatter completely. Now he's back. Richer. More ruthless. Ready for revenge.

"Marry me, or watch your family lose everything."

Our marriage is his masterpiece of revenge. He flaunts his perfect girlfriend in our home, forcing me to watch him replace me with everything I used to be. Every day brings new humiliation, all designed to break me.

But what he doesn't know is that my time is running out.

I thought marrying New York's most brilliant surgeon meant I had the perfect life. Then at his birthday party, I overheard the whispers—"Dr. Morrison could've married anyone." Thirty-two candles flickered, highlighting how I, a restaurant owner's daughter, never belonged. And that "For the future little Morrisons" onesie? It tore open a wound that never healed.
Eight months ago, I lost my daughter, Emma. Now I'm losing Grayson too. Because I've seen her—Sophia Turner, that impossibly perfect doctor from a medical dynasty, moving through his world with effortless grace. She has everything I'll never possess: a medical degree, shared conversations, the ability to give him children.
When I exposed her in front of all the media at the hospital awards ceremony, they said I was delusional. But I know what's real—she's systematically stealing what little I have left. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect my shattered marriage.
Unless... she never existed at all?

Five years ago, I was sent to prison.
Convicted of arson and the deaths of twelve people.
I was innocent.
The real killer is Madison—now with my ex, Dylan.
Prosecutor Ethan knew the truth, yet he sent me to hell.
They thought I died behind bars. They were wrong.
I'm out.
And I'm here to ruin them all.

They killed me, but my ghost got stuck. I watched my boyfriend marry the woman who murdered me. I heard her steal my songs to win a Grammy. I was ready to destroy them both—until I saw his secrets. My picture against his heart. Lethal poison in his pocket. This was no wedding. It was his revenge, and it was the sickest, most beautiful duet we'd ever performed.

I married casino tycoon Daniel Morgan for one reason only: to uncover the truth behind the fire that killed my father seven years ago.
On our wedding day, I found a faded photo in his study—showing him covered in blood at the scene.
"If you knew what really happened that night," he gripped my hand, his gaze intense, "would you still have married me?"
As I began digging deeper, more questions emerged:
Why did Ryan, the man who "saved" me, keep stopping me from asking questions?
Why did Daniel visit my father’s memorial alone every midnight?
Then, I found two blood-stained poker chips hidden in a secret room—
That was when I realized: everyone in this marriage was lying.
And the deadliest truth of all—the fire was no accident.

"Barren. Cursed. Worthless."
Those words from my mate still echoed as he tore our bond apart in front of everyone. Four years of humiliation. Four years thinking I was broken, while he was secretly popping fertility drugs when no one was looking.
The night they cast me out, I was dying, bleeding, utterly destroyed. My own mother hurled "cursed daughter" at my face before walking away forever.
But what I found in those ancient ruins shattered everything I thought I knew.
"The cursed one wasn't me—it was HIM!"

Tonight, delivering food to a private dining room, I pushed open the door and saw him.
Harold Sterling—the world's hottest supermodel. The man I abandoned three years ago.
He was telling his friend: "That vain woman? She was just a sugar mama who got bored and ran off. I'm only looking for her to ask why she humiliated me like that."
I desperately tried to escape, but—
Just as the elevator doors were closing, a hand shot through.
"Three years, Delphine."
He recognized me.

After her rebirth, my sister was overjoyed. She knew that the "struggling screenwriter" was actually a Hollywood billionaire heir. This time, she was determined not to miss out on her meal ticket! She forced me to help her pose as an intellectual artist to win his heart.
I agreed because in my previous life, I was the one who "stole" him away.
But I underestimated the pain of watching the man I loved being deceived. My sister's performance was full of holes, while he found genuine connection in my unremarkable comics.
When he exposed my sister's lies in front of the world and turned to me instead, she lost it. She cried to the media: "That bitch of a sister stole my boyfriend!"
This time, I won't back down from false accusations. Because his love had been mine from the beginning.

I once believed our love was a fairy tale. Three years of secret devotion, countless vows whispered in the night—all shattered in an instant at that gala. I heard him laugh and tell others, "Just a plaything, like her social-climbing mother."
That stormy night, I fled in a torn gown, only to witness my mother collapse from a heart attack after seeing the video of my humiliation. But the true devastation came later—when the man I had given everything to gripped my wrist in the darkness and uttered those cruelest words:
"You’re nothing but my father’s bastard."

On my 34th birthday, my husband publicly mocked me as "expired goods" just to impress his 25-year-old pianist ex, his first love. The internet ridiculed me for "robbing the cradle" until the youngest MVP in NBA history crashed the party—his muscular physique barely contained in his suit as he overturned the piano and declared: "Anyone who dares shame her with age becomes my enemy."
Three years ago, I pushed him away due to my family's schemes. Now he grips my trembling waist and whispers: "Big sis, it's time for your little wolf to settle the score." When millions of cameras captured our passionate kiss, social media exploded: #25YearOldSuperstarSkipsGameFor34YearOldDivorcee #SisterWolfRelationshipAlertsFBI
Meanwhile, on my divorce papers, my ex-husband frantically scribbles new clauses: "Don't think you can redeem yourself with that nine-year age gap, you old hag!"

I once thought love meant hiding in the shadows, writing scripts for him, paying off his debts, content to be his "muse in the dark." Until that rainy night, when I heard him laughing with his new lover: "That fat pig? Just practice."
Howard Buckner, king of the media empire, offered me a contract at my most desperate: six months to transform me completely, in exchange for playing his fake fiancée.
I got my revenge on the man who broke me, standing on stage accepting awards while everyone watched. But when Howard pulled me into his arms, I made a terrifying discovery—he hadn’t chosen me because of that chance encounter in the rain.
He knew me long before I had nothing left to lose.

I thought the most embarrassing moment of my life was getting reported by my neighbors for testing... certain special sound effects for my job.
That was until the doorbell rang, and standing there was a police officer so devastatingly handsome it should be illegal. He accused me of harboring a man in my apartment, then flatly informed me that he was the husband from my three-month-old, drunken Vegas-style wedding—the one I had no memory of.
The truly absurd part? He had proof.
Now, this impossibly gorgeous stranger is crashing into my life and has somehow appointed himself as the live-in 'reference model' for my new game's hero.

When my five-dollar harmonica sounded at the audition, the entire Nashville Music Academy laughed at the illiterate coffee shop waitress. Until legendary producer Samuel stood up trembling and said, "You're accepted."
Now I've become the music industry's most ironic joke—a musically illiterate genius who lied about graduating from Berklee. My stepsister Colleen holds all my secrets: my mother's medical bills, the truth about my father's hit-and-run, and all those original songs she stole and put her name on.
But none of us expected that my "shameful" music would make the composer who'd been in a coma for ten years open his eyes. When Samuel discovered I couldn't read even the simplest sheet music, I raised my harmonica and whispered, "Let me show you what real music is."
Like my father used to say, even the tiniest star shines bright. And my light is about to pierce through all the lies and darkness.

I thought I would spend my whole life hiding behind a mask, until I read his words in Vogue: "The most beautiful faces aren't about perfection, but the light of the soul." Wasn't he talking about me?
Seven years ago, he was the gentle boy next door, and I was the scarred girl who hated her reflection.
Now, he's an internationally renowned photographer, and I'm still just a makeup artist painting scars on third-rate actors in cheap sets.
When photos of him with a supermodel topped the headlines, I got a private message from him: "That girl has always been you."
But a violent scandal from our past explodes online, turning our reunion into a living hell... This time, I'm tearing off the mask for good. Let the whole world see—this scar is the very reason he loves me.

When the truck crashed into us on that rainy Boston night, I heard my dad's final scream: "The Winters found us!" The next time I opened my eyes, the doctor who saved me turned out to share that cursed last name—Julian Winters, son of my parents' killers.
He took me, the "amnesiac girl," into his family’s mansion. His fingers brushed my wound as he said, "I'll protect you." What he didn’t know was that I'd hidden the evidence of the Aetherium scandal—proof my parents died for—inside my collar. Every night, I played along with his tenderness, plotting to destroy his family. But when he turned against his fiancée to defend me, panic hit: Why is this heart, set on revenge, now aching for the son of my enemies?

$20,000 a month - that was our deal to make me his contract girlfriend.
Everything changed when he sent me to care for the woman carrying his child...
Standing heartbroken in that hospital with baby gifts in hand, I discovered a truth that shattered my world.
I thought I could play this game that started with money, but I'm losing badly - because somehow, I've really fallen for my boss.

At a charity gala in the San Francisco Museum of Art, I ran into my ex-fiancé and his new flame. They humiliated me in front of everyone—mocking me for the down payment my parents saved for my house and laughing that I was good for nothing but playing the piano.
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, a mysterious man stepped in. Who was he? None other than the elusive CEO of Harrington Tech, Zane Harrington himself.
He drank the champagne I was handed—knowing it was likely drugged—just to protect me. He said he'd been to my recital and had waited ten years to find me? Me, a utterly ordinary piano teacher. How did I get tangled up with a Silicon Valley tech titan?
But the drama didn't stop there. My desperate ex-fiancé showed up at Zane's company, hell-bent on destroying my reputation for good.
Is this whirlwind of chaos my doom... or my destiny?

They called him an educational genius, and me his masterpiece. They never knew that behind every award-winning painting I created lay a trail of sewing needles, rope burns, and starvation. They expected me to step up to the microphone and thank my father for his "nurturing." So I did exactly that. I walked into the spotlight—and then, slowly, I unzipped my high-necked gown, turning my scar-riddled body toward the national television cameras.
"My dear father," I said, a faint smile on my lips, "is this the perfect masterpiece you always wanted?"

I used to think emotional distance was the deadliest poison in a marriage—until I caught my husband using my phone at 5 a.m.
When my Wall Street elite husband started hitting the gym obsessively, changing his hairstyle, splurging on luxury skincare, yet showed complete indifference to my late-night returns… I was convinced his heart belonged to someone else.
But then he pinned me against the CNN makeup mirror, growling "You'll always be mine," with that wild look in his eyes—that's when the suffocating truth began to surface...
The storm that almost tore us apart came from a direction I never saw coming.

On my 25th birthday, the doctor handed me my death sentence—stage four pancreatic cancer, six months to live. The man I’d loved for seventeen years was flirting with his secretary while I coughed up blood and collapsed. He mocked me when chemo took my hair: “Even your hair is fake.” When I secretly transferred my last savings into his sports recovery fund—the very money that could’ve saved me—he threw me out: "Get out. You were never part of this family." If he knew the woman he called "a lying, attention-seeking fake" was dying alone in a run-down apartment… would he finally believe me? This time, my death is not a lie.

He was Brett Wilson—every girl's dream on campus, yet he was obsessed with me, the coding "Ice Queen." When I proposed a "three-month relationship trial," he actually agreed? Learning to code for me, pulling all-nighters to debug algorithms, even skipping a crucial game to stay by my hospital bed… Everyone said I should be moved. But when I saw those unsaved flirty texts on his phone late at night, it hit me: Was any of this real, or just another game to satisfy his ego?

The two loves of my life—one died because of him, the other wishes me dead. My seven-year-old daughter only wanted to make a lamp for her "afraid-of-the-dark" daddy, but died from electrocution instead. She'll never know that her father was using this very opportunity to plan a new life with his mistress. When I held my terminal diagnosis in my hands, I cried silently. Look, Patty—Mommy will be coming to join you soon. And your daddy? He'll finally be free from us two "burdens" forever.

At the Rossini family gala, I clutched my wine glass, listening to Patrick chat with the senator's daughter about politics and business, without even the right to join their conversation. It wasn't until I overheard him in his study late that night calling me "just a plaything from peasant stock" that I realized how ridiculous my six years of devotion had been.

After fleeing to Los Angeles, I thought I could escape this family forever. But when Patrick's brother Warren rescued me at a bar and offered me a job, the tenderness in his eyes made my heart race. Was I crazy to fall for my ex's brother? Yet when he said "you deserve to be treasured," I couldn't help but wonder: maybe this time, I could take the gamble?