J.D. Pierce

At my ex-fiancé's engagement party to my own sister, a stranger made me come with just his hands and his mouth. I only found out later he was the city's most feared Mafia boss...

Dear readers,
I'm taking a necessary health break and will have to pause updates for a while. Thank you for your understanding and continued support! I appreciate you all.

"To my lovely readers: I’m really sorry to say that I’ve been sick lately and need to take a short break from writing to recover. I’ll be back as soon as I can!"

My name is Olivia, and I was the pitiful wife. But when I finally got pregnant after a grueling journey with IVF, I heard my husband say the embryo they implanted was his... and his first love's.
I completely lost my mind...

When my husband told me to abort our child so its bone marrow could save his first love, I thought I was the most miserable woman in the world.
But that wasn't enough. The baby I just successfully conceived through IVF? It turns out it was made from my husband's genes... and hers.
So if that's the case, who is this man who just showed up, claiming I stole his sperm?

At the company party, a drunken mistake led me straight into my boss's bedroom...
Rumor had it that Wellington was cold, ruthless, and completely uninterested in women. They said any woman who dared to cross him would face a terrible end.
A month later, when I woke up in his bed again, only one thought screamed through my mind: Run!
But no matter how far she runs, he will hunt her down. **There is nowhere on earth he won't find her.

I was the most miserable pregnant woman on earth, left by my husband on the side of the road in the middle of a storm, as if I were nothing.
All for her. His secretary. The clever, stunning, powerful heiress.
I was everything she wasn't—swollen from pregnancy, my features coarse, my presence unwelcome. That truth became painfully clear when I saw her embrace my husband... and she looked...
strikingly like me.

The day he brought his mistress home—our anniversary, no less—was the day my old life ended. "Take the kid," Aiden sneered. "But you're getting nothing else."
After the divorce, I was broke. I sold every last thing I owned to pay the medical bills for our daughter, Yara, who was fighting for her life.
But I fought back. I clawed my way back into the design industry as 'Q', my professional pseudonym. The comeback was sweet, but not as sweet as the enraged phone call I got from my ex.
"What is this?" he practically screamed into the phone.
"A referral," I purred, examining my nails. "To the best doctor for male infertility. Three years and still no heir? Tsk, tsk." I let that sink in before adding, "Oh, and one more thing. Yara found her real dad. So you can drop the act."