382 Book(s) Related to For

I saved Frank from an avalanche. He paid me back by locking me at home with a pregnancy monitor and a salt-free diet. When he announced to the world on television that he was single, causing me to miscarry in a blizzard that very night, I knew this man was beyond saving.
So, I made him drink a potion that erases memory. Now, he has completely forgotten me, his wife, and our dead child.
And my greatest revenge is to stand here, watching him kneel madly in every heavy snow, desperately searching for the woman he personally killed.
I am the woman he will never find.

To avenge my father, I married Philadelphia mafia don Salvatore and poisoned him with my own hands on our wedding night. I thought my revenge was complete, until I met his son Matteo at the funeral—a cold, handsome,dangerous man.

Matteo suspected from the start that I'd killed his father. According to plan, I was supposed to get close to him, seduce him, then kill the last Rossi heir when he trusted me most.

"You're trembling." He cornered me against the wall, his long fingers caressing my cheek. "From fear... or something else?"

"I..." Under his burning gaze, I couldn't find words.

"Don't be nervous, stepmother." He leaned close to my ear, his voice low and magnetic. "I just want to see how honest you are."

When the assassin falls for her target, when stepmother becomes obsessed with stepson, can this dangerous game have a happy ending?

I died once, watching him leap to his death for me.

Reborn three years in the past, I decided to completely change the rules of the game.

"I'm going to marry Parker Ashford!" I declared publicly at his birthday party, ignoring everyone's shocked stares.

"You're insane? I'm a cripple..." He tried to push me away, but I wouldn't let him.

I climbed through his bathroom window, seeing him at his most vulnerable. "These scars are beautiful because they're part of you." I kissed his withered legs, feeling his body tremble.

"Don't look at me..." he begged through tears.

"Only I get to look, only I get to touch." I used a belt to bind him to his wheelchair. "You belong to me, Parker Ashford."

On my 21st birthday, I kissed the man who raised me for fourteen years.

The next morning, he was gone. Just one line: "I'm sorry. I can't ruin you."

Four years later, Gabriel Sterling came back. Same deep blue eyes, same man who shows up when I'm sick. But he keeps pushing me away—because we're "stepfather and daughter," and our love could destroy everything the Sterling family built.

So I started chasing him. Coffee shops, gyms, boardrooms—everywhere he went.

"Don't ask if I missed you, Lily. You won't like the answer."

"Then kiss me, Gabe. Prove you don't love me."

Until Owen exposed us at the family dinner. Until the board tried to impeach him. Until the whole world called me "shameless"—

He finally stopped running.

When debt-ridden Wendy Chen hits rock bottom, an unexpected "job" becomes her lifeline—a contract marriage with veteran Jason Morrison, paying $100,000 a year for one year, with a single assignment: being a "mom" to his fourteen-year-old son Liam.

This should have been the perfect business arrangement. Jason needs someone to care for his stepmother-resistant son, while Wendy needs money to escape the crushing gambling debts her ex-husband left behind. No love, no expectations—just cold contractual terms.

But when Liam "welcomes" her with a bucket of ice water, when Jason struggles through PTSD episodes during thunderstorms, when her dangerous ex-husband resurfaces to threaten her new life... Wendy finds herself caught in a deadly trap: she's genuinely falling in love with this broken family.

Until fourteen-year-old Liam accidentally discovers the contract.

Everything falls apart.

"They took eight years of my life, destroyed my family, and buried the truth under a mountain of lies. I walked out of Riverside State Penitentiary with nothing but a canvas bag and a marriage contract to a man in a coma—my last desperate chance at revenge.

But some sleeping princes aren't as helpless as they seem. And sometimes, the most beautiful love stories begin with the darkest plans for vengeance.

Justice may sleep, but it never dies. And when it awakens... it changes everything."

He wiped out my whole family but turned me into the sharpest weapon. I fought off all his enemies and called him "Papa" for five years. Then he let another woman carry his "heirs." I took care of that unwanted child myself, leaning in and whispering, "See, I haven't forgotten what Papa taught me." Under the blood moon, my gun was already aimed at his heart.

I woke up in the middle of the night to my mark burning.

Through our bond, I could feel Xavier marking another woman.

Ten years of marriage and a seven-year-old son, all turned to ash at midnight when the blood moon rose.

When he brought Aurora home, I asked him, "What did you do?"

He said, "I couldn't stop it. She was my fated mate."

I was heartbroken, but then I found out something that made me decide to fight back.

I was broke. My startup had two months left.

Then Jasper Hayes—the neighbor kid who moved to England when I was ten—showed up with a contract: $500K investment for a green card marriage. Pure business. One to two years. Mutual benefit.

I signed. Told myself it was just a deal.

Until he started making breakfast every morning, remembering exactly how I take my coffee, staying up till 2 a.m. finding me suppliers. Until I saw his phone's lock screen—him with some gorgeous blonde named Victoria—and jealousy nearly killed me. Until I finally broke and asked: "What if this wasn't fake?"

He pushed me away. "We have a contract, Grace."

But the night before our immigration interview, his mother's video call accidentally revealed the truth—those years in England, he kept writing home about me. His classmates teased him about having an "imaginary American girlfriend."

Twenty years. He'd been in love with me for twenty years.

Tomorrow, Officer will ask us the question that could destroy everything: "Do you love your husband?"

What do I say?

They once swore to protect me for life. Three brothers I grew up with next door, who once treasured me like a precious gem, promising that no one would ever hurt me. Until she appeared. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who used her sweet smile and perfect figure to turn my most trusted protectors into the cruelest executioners. They began to despise my social anxiety, humiliate my "psychological problems," and even turn my pain into a joke in front of everyone. When I had a panic attack in the crowd, they watched coldly from the sidelines, saying I was "performing." When I achieved the highest honor of my career, they chose to accompany that woman instead. When I needed them most, they chose betrayal. Two years later, I watched these three men who once promised to protect me for life kneel outside my clinic, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. "Memory deletion initiated. Target: all emotional memories related to Maverick, Knox, and Jett." They watched helplessly as I forgot their existence, forgot all the love and hate, forgot those beautiful past moments and painful betrayals. The cruelest punishment is not refusing forgiveness, but being completely forgotten.

Elena Martinez was an ordinary girl from Salem until her father's gambling debts caught up with him—debts owed to an underground vampire loan operation. When those pale, fang-bearing "creditors" showed up at her door, she learned that vampires were real.

The blood clan gave her a brutal choice: her family's death, or Elena would enter Crimson Rose Academy as a blood servant to pay the debt. To protect her family, the nineteen-year-old was forced to sign a blood contract, becoming the lowest-ranking "debt blood servant."

I shattered the perfume I crafted for him, and with it, my ridiculous love.
When Damian called me a "cheap and replaceable tool" in front of everyone in that elite club's private booth, my three-year secret crush died instantly. The bottle, containing my heartfelt creation, lay in pieces on the floor—just like my dignity.
But then his identical twin brother, Declan, found me. "If he doesn't want you, I do," he said, wiping my tears. "Give me three months. I'll make you the treasure he can never have."
I became the spark that ignited a war between brothers, transforming from a discarded stand-in to the center of their fierce rivalry. Now, with both powerful CEOs claiming to love me, which one should I choose?
Or perhaps the real question is… why should I have to choose at all?

Six years of marriage. All of it, just an elaborate revenge plot.

When Lorenzo played that recording in front of a room full of guests, telling everyone I was the daughter of the undercover cop who killed his father, I finally understood—every kiss, every sweet word, every night of passion was nothing more than a move in his game of vengeance.

I thought the worst pain was being abandoned, humiliated, stripped of everything.

Until Elena collapsed in a pool of blood because we couldn't afford her medication. That's when I learned what true despair meant.

But when the man who destroyed me used his own body to shield me from bullets, when he used his dying breath to whisper "I love you"—

Should I hate him, or should I forgive him?

I've always lived in the shadow of Sofia, my adopted sister.

Fifteen years ago, Sofia's parents died in a warehouse explosion, supposedly while protecting us from rivals. My guilt-ridden parents took in five-year-old Sofia out of some misguided sense of penance.

While I was being groomed to run this empire, my parents and brother Lorenzo showered Sofia with all the credit. She was their "orphaned angel" who needed their protection, their love, everything that should have been mine.

The cruelest betrayal came from Dante Romano, my childhood sweetheart and our top enforcer. The man I was supposed to marry fell completely under Sofia's spell, charmed by her practiced innocence. He started siding with her in every family meeting while I watched my birthright slip away.

I had it all planned out, after our wedding, we'd escape to New York. A fresh start, away from Sofia and my family's misguided guilt.

But the night before our engagement party, Sofia and I were both "kidnapped" by a rival gang.

Have you ever been treated like a stand-in for your dead sibling by your own mother? I have.

Have you ever been murdered by your own mother? I have.

My name is Aira, and today is my sister Lily's birthday. It's also the anniversary of my death—the day the washing machine became my coffin.

"Why couldn't it have been you who died?"

After four long years, my mom finally got her wish.

"Baby, lend me Stella for the movie."
When my fiancé Damon said this, I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. My guide dog starring in his Oscar-worthy film—what a perfect love story.
I'm Aria Sinclair, 26-year-old blind film producer with perfect pitch and endless money, but no eyes. So when he said "The press will go crazy for our story," I stupidly agreed.
Three weeks later, in the editing room:
01:47:23—Dull impact.
01:47:31—Familiar whimper.
01:47:35—Silence.
My perfect pitch never lies. That wasn't CGI—that was real impact. Worse, I knew that whimper. That was Stella, my guide dog, my eyes, my most loyal companion.
They killed her. For a goddamn trophy.
On premiere night, when Damon walked the red carpet with a strange German Shepherd, when I touched her paw and found no white star-shaped mark—
"This is not my dog!"
I broke down in front of hundreds of reporters.
"Honey, you're under too much stress," Damon said gently. "Maybe you need rest."
Whispers from the audience: "Poor blind girl..." "She really needs help..."
Just like that, I became the crazy one.
Abandoned by the world.
Betrayed by the man I loved most.
But they made one fatal mistake—they thought stealing my eyes would silence me.
Now it's time to let them hear what despair sounds like...
[Click to watch me destroy them both...]

I spent three years chasing Caden Hartwell.

He's the future Alpha. I'm just the daughter of fallen warriors. He said I was too rough, not elegant enough, could never be Luna. For three years, I changed everything to be worthy of him—wore dresses, learned makeup, cut back on training. But our relationship stayed a secret.

Until that night when I walked into his family's study and saw him with another woman pressed against the desk, his mouth on hers.

I thought my world had ended.

But then his twin brother Cole found me crying at the training grounds. The man who'd been silently protecting me all along. The one who never asked me to change. The one who said, "Your strength makes you perfect."

One night later, everything changed.

Then came our wolf awakening. When the soul-bond pulled at me, I felt it.

The twins. Both my fated mates.

Now Caden stands before me, saying it's the Moon Goddess's will, saying he'll change, saying Autumn doesn't matter anymore. And Cole holds my hand, fear in his eyes, but he says he'll respect whatever I choose.

The mate bond is destiny's gift.

But I have the right to choose my own happiness.

"I, Skye Brennan, reject you..."

I never thought something like this would happen to me! My mom works as a servant at this estate, and I was losing sleep over tuition for my senior year. Then out of the blue, the lady of the house shows up at our door offering me a full scholarship to this elite prep school - uniforms, living expenses, everything covered!

Just one condition: keep tabs on her son who just came back from abroad. The guy seemed cold at first, but he always had my back at school and would talk about us applying to colleges together. I was actually starting to fall for him.

Then my mom got diagnosed with a serious illness, and the lady laid it out straight: either help her get hold of something her son has, or she cuts off my mom's treatment money. It's my mom on one side and someone who genuinely cares about me on the other. I'm literally going insane here - which side am I supposed to choose?

At the bar, I watched Ethan get publicly dumped and made a crazy proposal fueled by liquid courage—a three-month fake dating contract.

I thought this was my only chance after twenty years of secret crushing. Until his ex showed me the text: "With Mia? Pretty convenient. She's been following me around since we were kids."

So I was just a tool.

The day we broke up, he shouted with red eyes: "I've been crazy about you for twenty years!" I thought he was acting, until his mom handed me a worn journal—

That careless comment I made at thirteen, "I'm never marrying Ethan," he'd remembered for twenty whole years.

Every page of that diary was filled with my name...

Everyone was waiting for me to die.
My ex-husband was busy preparing for his engagement, my childhood sweetheart had disappeared without a trace and the so-called friends around me avoided me like the plague.
The doctor gave me a verdict: three to six months to live.
They thought I would slip away quietly, without making a sound.
But what they didn’t know was—I crawled back from the edge of death for one purpose: to destroy them.
Bankruptcy? Betrayal? Conspiracy?
I will make them pay for every single one.

I floated in what had once been my bridal studio, staring at the corpse curled up among the shattered plaster—that was me.

Three years ago, I had been my husband's moonlight, the exclusive signature on his design drafts, the one who had stayed with him from the basement to Fashion Week.

Later, I became the thief who had embezzled and fled, the stranger he spoke of.

My wedding dress had been stained with blood; I couldn't protect our child; my place had been taken by another.

He wore a tailored suit and said he "didn't know" my remains; he held our daughter and told her I was the bad person; he lived without guilt, forming a "family" with my best friend.

I had clutched the truth, enduring three years in the cold plaster.

I died, but I didn't leave.

He thought I had disappeared, thought everything was over.

No.

I was just waiting.

Waiting for the truth to pierce through the lies, waiting for him to repay with his own hands what he owed me—love, betrayal, and two lives.

I was on my knees outside the ICU, making my seventh call to my husband.

"Adrian, please. Dad's dying. He just wants one family photo. That's all he's asking."

"Baby, I know. I'm on my way, I promise."

Two hours later, my father died with his eyes fixed on the door.

And my husband's Instagram showed: at the exact moment I was begging on that hospital floor, he was at the Golden Gate Bridge capturing the "perfect sunset" with his assistant.

He said he was sick. Some rare "event-specific amnesia"—couldn't remember any dates or events about me. For five years, he had a doctor's diagnosis, an official report. I believed him. I packed away my dreams, made myself smaller, understood him, accommodated him.

Until I discovered:

He remembers his assistant takes oat milk lattes with an extra shot.
He remembers her cat's name.
He remembers her birthday, her passport expiration, every place she casually mentioned wanting to visit.

My birthday? "June... something?"

I asked the hospital for his medical records.

The nurse said: "Ma'am, this report didn't come from our facility."

Five years of lies shattered in that moment.

He wasn't sick.

He just chose who to remember. And who to forget.

Now it's my turn to choose.

"They taught me that love was supposed to be unconditional. That mothers always forgive. That family comes first, no matter what.

They were wrong.

I was Emily Thompson—veterinarian, wife, mother. I gave up my career to support my husband's failing farm. I spent eight years nursing my asthmatic son, building a life around their needs, sacrificing my dreams for their comfort.

Then they chose a stranger over me.

When a beautiful liar claiming cancer came into our home, my husband believed her over his wife of eight years. My eight-year-old son wished she was his real mother. They traded me for a fraud, and expected me to quietly disappear.

Instead, I chose myself.

Some women forgive. Some women fight for their families. Some women break down and beg for a second chance.

I became the woman who builds an empire from the ashes of betrayal.

They all say I stole Eamon from my adopted sister.
I've spent years drowning in guilt, playing the perfect wife, starving for crumbs of his love. Then came my death sentence: advanced liver cancer. Six months.
Death sentence in hand, I wandered home in a daze—only to find the town ablaze with light for her return. My “heartbroken” sister was back. And
there was my husband, holding her hand at her lavish welcome party, radiant as if I’d never existed.
As pain twisted like a knife in my gut, I huddled alone in the dark, their laughter drifting from afar. Then it hit me—a gut-wrenching truth sharper than the pain: my dying body and this joyous reunion were bound by a hidden, bloody thread…

I thought the rules of the love game were simple—pretend to be a harmless art student, seduce a rich boy, take the money and run.

I never expected to fall in love with two men at the same time.

Even less expected was that when my tattoo artist identity was exposed at the charity auction, it wasn't them who abandoned me—it was me who abandoned them.

Zane said he loved my rebellion, Finn said he saw through my disguise but was still drawn to me.

But it took me twenty-nine years to find my true self—I couldn't let love make me lose myself again.

So I chose Los Angeles, chose independence, chose to be alone.

Until today, one year later, I received three letters...

They said they were coming to Los Angeles to "see my new work."

I thought running away was the end.

But when I opened the studio door—

I was his most obedient blood slave. When he needed strength, I offered my blood; when he was irritable, I endured his temper. Even when he held his new lover and prepared for their wedding, I stayed silent at his feet. He thought I was born to bow, never realizing the poison hidden deep in my veins—the poison meant to end him. And when he bit into my skin for the final time, what he drank wasn’t power but his own doom. As his bloodline collapsed before my eyes, he finally fell to his knees, trembling, begging me for mercy. I only looked at him and smiled. He never understood—I was never his plaything. I was merely waiting for the right moment to take my revenge.

I thought I had married the love of my life, until I discovered he planned to use my womb as a sacrifice for his mistress.

For five years, I gave Dax everything—my brilliance, my body, my soul. I believed we were building a future together, trying for the baby that would complete our Silicon Valley fairy tale.

Then I overheard the conspiracy that shattered my world: defective embryos implanted in my body, followed by a hysterectomy disguised as "medical complications." All to clear the path for Ada and their "perfect heir."

In that moment, I realized I had never been his wife—I was just a disposable vessel.

But they made one fatal mistake: they underestimated the fury of a betrayed woman with an MIT degree and nothing left to lose.

Love had made me blind, but betrayal made me brilliant.

My name is Aurora McNamara, federal fire investigator.

For seven years, I've endured the same three words from my husband every single day: "Get out, murderer."

Yes, my husband Phoenix—the fire captain who once whispered "I love you" in my ear—now looks at me with pure hatred every day, as if I'm the monster who killed his teammates.

But I didn't set those fires.

I was framed.

What's more twisted? The real killer sits on our couch every evening, gently providing "psychological therapy" to my husband, telling him he should "forgive his wife's mistakes."

That, Phoenix made his choice—in the raging inferno, he chose to save her instead of me.

Then I return to three months ago, before everything fell apart completely....

I was auctioned off like merchandise by three men, but I don't know why they want a worthless person like me.

I'm a blind hooker who can't see anything, surviving only by selling my body.
After accidentally getting pregnant, my client humiliated me in public: "Two lines! You lying bitch trying to scam my money!" The owner immediately threw me out, and my begging on my knees was useless—who wants a pregnant piece of trash?
I thought I'd die on the streets, until I heard familiar footsteps...
"I'll buy her." The politician's voice made my blood run cold.
"I'll pay double." The businessman immediately followed.
"Wait! That kid is mine!" The broke gambler screamed frantically.
Three men in expensive suits started bidding, auctioning me and my unborn child like livestock. I couldn't see anything, could only listen to them discuss my "value" like they were picking produce at a market.
But I don't understand... I'm just a nobody, a worthless person who can't even see where I'm going. Why do these powerful men suddenly all want me? What about an unborn baby drives them so crazy?
The politician mentions needing a "perfect family image," the businessman talks about "political investment," the gambler claims the child will help him "make a comeback"... Their words are full of conspiracies I can't comprehend.

The billionaire who'd been keeping me for five years texted at 2 AM.
Get over here. Wear the black lingerie.
I grabbed the lace and ran through the rain to his penthouse.
Candles. Champagne. Rose petals on the bed.
For one pathetic second, I thought it was for me.
Then he shoved me onto the mattress and whispered: "I found you a new sugar daddy. Go spread your legs for him next week. But tonight—you're still mine."

My husband's first love was in trouble.
When the news came, I was lying on the operating table.
Dr. Miller put down his scalpel and said to Dr. Johnson, "I'll leave my wife's surgery to you."

"If I don’t go now, I might regret it for the rest of my life."

With that, he turned and walked away.
Watching my husband's retreating figure, I couldn't hold back—tears fell.
The next second, the cold blade of a scalpel touched my skin.

Dr. Johnson spoke calmly, "Why the tears? With me here, you'll be fine."

After a devastating car accident, Blair White lost her sight and everything she held dear, plunging her world into darkness.

On a snowy winter's night, with her gravely ill mother, she found herself thrown out onto the streets. In that moment of utter desperation, Harrison Ward extended his hand in apparent salvation.

She trusted him completely, marrying him without hesitation. For three years she lived within his web of lies, only to discover he hadn't led her to salvation or even purgatory - but straight into hell itself.

When Blair finally awakened to the truth and filed for divorce, Harrison merely smirked as he signed the papers, declaring with absolute certainty: "You'll come crawling back to me."

In Harrison's mind, Blair was nothing but a weak, blind woman - someone anyone could step on. Without him, she couldn't possibly survive.

He watched coldly as others tormented her, staying silent as she suffered, pushing her further and further toward the edge of despair.

One year later, at a high society gala, he stared at the stunning woman commanding everyone's attention. His eyes welled with tears as he desperately pulled her into his arms, his voice breaking with barely contained emotion: "Blair... you're alive?"

Blair gazed at the haggard, desperate man before her, her eyes filled with nothing but detachment: "Mr. Ward, please control yourself. My husband might get the wrong idea!"

The adaptation maintains the emotional core while adjusting the language and cultural context to feel natural in American English, keeping the themes of betrayal, redemption, and transformation that drive the narrative.