Author Anika

"Each time you miss a shot, a part of your body will forever be mine." *** Janet Corrigan was kidnapped and sold to the Russian mafia by her father's enemy. Just as darkness enveloped her, a beacon of hope emerged in the form of the future Mafia King. Sebastian Genovese was arranged to marry a princess to strengthen his dominance and power. However, everything unravelled when Janet walked into his life and completely derailed his plans. Her charm was an irresistible temptation, and his affection became a dangerous addiction. She was his salvation. His heaven in hell. But one fateful night, everything changed. Janet disappeared, taking something precious from Sebastian Genovese: his unborn child. Will fate give them another shot at love, or has their journey reached a tragic end as her father wished? Experience the thrilling clash between Janet and Sebastian as their guns meet in a high-stakes face-off.

Playboy, Casanova and Heartbreaker were some adjectives used by the paparazzi to describe the brilliant interior designer and the hottest CEO of Grayson Group Of Hotels, Aries Grayson. But that quickly changed when his eyes landed on his best friend's perfect girlfriend, Cara Silencio. The moment their eyes locked for the first time, her innocence took his world by storm. Cara was everything Aries secretly wished for in his life, but she was off-limits, and Aries chose to abide by the rules of BroCode. Cara Silencio has her own fair share of secrets that could destroy her. Somewhere between hiding her real identity from the world and struggling to meet end needs, Cara was exhausted. She wanted to marry the Knight of her life, Keith Wilson, and lead a peaceful life. But the demons of her past destroyed everything, and she was pushed into the endless tunnel of darkness. Years later, when Aries found her at the infamous strip club, his desires came back to life and this time he was aiming to claim her. A night of passion didn't satiate his craving for her. He wanted to worship her body every night. Aries came back to the club to find her, but Cara was gone, leaving no traces behind. Aries called his most competent informer to dig about Cara Silencio, only to stumble upon the shocking truth. "Mr Grayson, the woman you're looking for is the heiress of New York's biggest business empire!"

In a blink of an eye, Cara Silencio lost everything in her life. She was kicked out of her family at the young age of eighteen and since then she is working hard to make a place for herself in the world. During her zest to do something in life to make her dad proud, she met Keith Wilson, the charming police officer, whom Cara truly believed was the soulmate that god assigned to shield her from the demons of her past.  But destiny deceived her again, forcing her to leave everything behind and disappear into an endless tunnel of darkness where she had to sell her shame to afford two meals a day and, as always, Cara had no choice but to survive in the cruel world.  What will happen when the country’s notorious playboy and heartthrob Aries Grayson will officially mark his entry into her life?  Will Cara ever be able to cross the dark tunnel and fight for her justice?  Who is Cara Silencio exactly and why Aries is determined to expose her every secret before the world?  Who will be Cara’s Knight in disguise? The playboy or the cop? Let’s find out in the story! COPYRIGHT ©️ 2021 AUTHOR ANIKA ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Christian Knight was about to marry Andrea Donovan and start a fresh life. Andrea was a gorgeous and respectable woman. She liked Christian since her college days but couldn’t muster the courage to express her feelings to him, as she knew that Christian was interested in Diana Roger, the mute girl. Years later, destiny played cupid for Andrea and Christian, and their families fixed their marriage. Andrea was over the moon, and it was hard for her to believe that Christian was finally going to be her forever. To escape the haunting nightmares and hallucinations about one particular woman, whom he thinks he has never met before, Christian agreed to marry Andrea as she was beautiful, smart, and a generous woman, completely compatible with his status, but little did he know that meeting with a stranger at Cafe Coffee Day will change everything for him. What will happen when destiny plays its cards? Would Christian be able to accept that he had been married before? Will he choose his present over his past or follow his way back to his former wife? Would Mishka be willing to give another chance to Christian or she has already moved on in her life? Will their love pass the test of time and commitment to come out victorious or their love story ended long ago? Follow the other half of Christian and Mishka’s tale to witness if second chances really exist or healing a broken heart is beyond repair. Copyright © Author Anika All Rights Reserved This book is a sequel to MY INDIAN WIFE Book one needs to be read before this book.

Meera and Aahil were head over heels in love with each other despite knowing that their religious differences. They were ready to fight against the world for their love and to prove people’s theory on inter-religion marriage wrong. All they needed from each other was love and support. Everything was going great in their relationship when the circumstances take a flip in a blink of an eye and Aahil went to Meera's place to meet her parents to convince them about their marriage. But what went wrong that forced Meera and Aahil to part their ways? Will these star-crossed lovers unite against all odds or forever burn in the fire of separation? "A heart-wrenching love story of two souls who were destined but torn apart” *Update on every Saturday*

Never in her wildest dreams did Mishka imagine that her life would be turned upside down as soon as she stepped into London. "Marry my grandson!" Grandpa Leo's demand threw her off guard. Marriage was not part of her plans, yet she accepted the proposal to marry the most eligible bachelor in London, leaving her dreams behind. Christian had everything planned out in advance. He intended to propose to his girlfriend right after securing the position of CEO at the Knight Group, but a woman derailed all his plans. "If you want to become the CEO of Knight Group, you must marry the girl I have chosen for you!" Grandpa Leo's firm decision put Christian's future at risk, but he quickly devised a plan. "Sign these papers!" Christian demanded in a deep, authoritative tone, extending the file towards Mishka. "What is this?" She narrowed her eyes, taking the file. "Read and I'll explain everything," Christian answered. His cold eyes stared at her, and as soon as Mishka opened the file, her face lost all colour reading the bold letters. "CONTRACT MARRIAGE" Will she give into Christian's demand, or will her masterstroke change the dynamics of the trap he set for her? What will happen when Christian and Mishka's entirely different worlds crash? Will love find its way through the web of lies, deception and mysteries? Let's find out in the story! COPYRIGHT ©️ 2020 AUTHOR ANIKA ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

"Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze." Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair. Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..." When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel. He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again." I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?"

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair. They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves. Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment. But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger. In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart. The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself. Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth. "Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die." The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone. Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs. Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive. But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth. In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying. Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin. Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon. When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom. "The game starts now," she said coldly.

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself. I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place. I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again. I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked. I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay. And now I'm his.