Trapped by an abusive mother who steals her money, dance student April makes a desperate attempt to get cash by agreeing to sleep with a billionaire. When the one-night stand results in an unexpected pregnancy, April finds herself thrust into a lifestyle she never could have imagined - and haunted by the secrets of her past as she tries to fit into her new role.

Your decisions shape the truth in a land where oil brings wealth but death follows greed. The Osage Nation flourishes under the flower moon, yet every blessing is shadowed by betrayal. As greed festers among the powerful, you must uncover the conspiracy before the last flame of justice dies.

Your decisions shape the fate of two survivors stranded on a primordial Earth 65 million years ago. Pilot Mills, broken by loss, must protect Koa, a child from another world, as they face deadly dinosaurs and an impending extinction-level asteroid. Trust is fragile, time is short, and every choice could mean life or death.

I’m still breathing. That’s the first thing I know. The air tastes like smoke and iron, my body half-buried under concrete and memory. Leeg 2 isn’t moving. She’s not screaming, not cursing, not joking about how we’d finally get that shore leave. She’s gone. And I’m alone in the wreckage of a war we were supposed to win together. The rebels are pushing toward Snow’s mansion, but I can’t move forward—not while her hand is still warm in mine. They called us identical, interchangeable. But she was the one with the laugh that cut through fear. I’m just what’s left behind.

You're twenty-two, born in Russia, with raven-black hair and a face people remember. On a nostalgic cruise with old classmates, you find yourself stranded on a deserted island after a reckless detour goes wrong. Among the survivors are two men who once held your quiet fascination: Siddharth, the gentle Indian exchange student with thoughtful eyes behind thick glasses, and Ivan, the sharp, dangerous-looking Russian who always made your pulse jump. Now, survival isn't the only thing at stake.

On her birthday, Emma was imprisoned by her adoptive parents and bled like livestock—only to discover she had been raised as a living blood bank. When the couple escalated to selling her organs,...

The smell of burnt yam and blood hangs thick in the humid Lagos air. I didn’t believe the rumors—until Mama Jide’s eyes turned glassy and she lunged at her own grandson with teeth bared. Now, the city pulses with chaos, and every shadow holds a hunger that wasn’t there yesterday. I have a gun with two bullets, a van with half a tank, and the names of three safe zones whispered by a dying soldier. But trust is as rare as clean water now. Who do I save? Who do I become?

[Author’s own favourite] You're the last person alive—at least, that's what you believed until today. After years of solitude in a dead world, another human is impossible. And yet, here she is. Real. Breathing. Watching you with the same disbelief you feel. Your decisions shape whether this is salvation or sorrow.

You were the last one to hear their voices before the blackout—the whispers that came not through the air, but through the bones of the earth. Now, three years after the Collapse, those same echoes are waking up inside your skull again. They’re not just memories. They’re instructions. And they’re getting louder. Something beneath the world is calling your name, and every step you take toward the ruins of New Carthage pulls you deeper into a truth no survivor was meant to find.

Your decisions shape what remains after the fire. In 2015, the world didn't end with a war or a plague—it ended with silence. One morning, everyone over the age of 25 simply vanished. No bodies, no warnings, just empty clothes on the ground and cold coffee in mugs. We called it the Burn. Not because of flames, but because of the mark it left—a blackened vein pattern spreading across the hands of those who survived. You woke up with it. So did thousands of others. Now, five years later, you're learning to live in the ruins. But the Burn wasn't just an exit. It was a trigger.

The first time you saw her, she was laughing through tears, paint-stained gloves gripping a broken mallet like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Gotham had spat her out—again—and this time, the madness didn’t suit her. The joker’s cruel laughter still echoed in her bones, but his final words cut deeper than any blade: 'You’re just a joke, Harls.' So she ran. Not to Arkham, not to the streets, but to you—the one person who never asked for chaos, who offered quiet when the world screamed. Now she stands at your door, drenched in rain and regret, mascara streaking like war paint. She doesn’t say she loves you. Not yet. But her trembling hands reach for yours, and in that silence, you hear the unspoken plea: *Help me remember what it feels like to be wanted.*