Claire Winters

Three days. That’s how close I was to marrying Alistair, the man I’d loved for six years, the man whose life I’d literally saved with my own rare blood. I was just admiring the final pearl on my wedding dress, a gown I’d poured my soul into, when he called.

The wedding? Off. He was marrying my stepsister, Ivy. Her dying wish, he said. Six months to live, maybe less.

The kicker? He’d already taken my wedding dress from my studio for her.

Just like that, six years, countless transfusions, our shared dreams – all tossed aside for the girl who’d made my life a living hell since childhood. He even offered me “compensation,” as if my future had a price tag.

But if Alistair and Ivy thought I’d just crumble, they seriously underestimated me. They wanted my fiancé? Fine. But it would cost them. First, our multi-million-dollar fashion company, Evening Gala – built on my designs, my vision. He signed it over. Then, a cool million for the stolen dress. He paid. Another million for the wedding jewelry they dared to ask me to hand over for Ivy. Cha-ching.

You’d think they’d learn. But no. Their next proposal was the most insulting yet: Alistair actually suggested that I should just wait. That after Ivy’s ‘inevitable’ passing in a few months, he and I could just pick up where we left off, have an even better wedding. Seriously?

Enough was enough. If Ivy wanted to play bride with my life, she was going to get a taste of what happens when you push someone too far. Let's just say her hospital room celebration involved a lot more smoke, water, and screaming than she bargained for, all thanks to a little wedding gift from yours truly.

Now they know I’m not the same Hazel they could walk all over. I’ve got my company, a pile of their cash, and a whole lot of scores to settle. They think this is over? This game of revenge is just getting started. And believe me, I play to win.

The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption

"Get out of my chair," I said, my voice cold and even.


Tanya Turner—the woman who had stolen my father, broken my mother's heart, and raised a daughter who took my fiancé—had the audacity to look offended.


"Is that any way to greet family?" she asked, slowly standing. Her designer outfit couldn't hide how much she'd aged. Stress and grief had carved deep lines around her eyes.


"We're not family. Now state your business and leave."


Tanya's painted lips twitched. "Always so hostile. Your father—"


"Don't you dare mention him to me." My hands clenched into fists. "Harold Shaw lost the right to call himself my father years ago."


She sighed dramatically, dropping into the visitor's chair. "This is exactly why I'm here. Harold is being released from prison next week."


The news hit me like a slap. My father had been serving time for fraud and embezzlement—crimes he committed to fund Ivy's lavish lifestyle and treatments.


The Unforgiving Daughter and the Unexpected Peace Offering