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

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 "Caged Canary" of the underworld, a biological asset designed to merge two crime families. My fiancé, Bryant Barnes, didn't love me. He loved the power I brought, and he loved his mistress, Kalia. The night Kalia broke into my penthouse and stomped on my hand, crushing the bones and my fashion career, Bryant didn't help me. He told the police she was my guest and warned me not to embarrass him with a cast. That was just the beginning. When Kalia lied about feeling unsafe, Bryant dangled me off a balcony. When she faked a kidnapping, he locked me in an industrial freezer for six hours until I turned blue. And when I fell into the marina, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown in the freezing water. He destroyed my body and my dignity for a woman who was stealing my designs and faking a pregnancy. He thought I was just a broken obligation he could discard. But he made a fatal mistake. He didn't make sure I was dead. I dragged myself out of the water and made a call to his greatest rival. On the night of our grand merger, I walked onto the stage wearing royal blue instead of white. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the scars he gave me, looked him dead in the eye, and grabbed the microphone. "I hereby terminate my engagement to Bryant Barnes. And I am proud to announce my betrothal to the true King of this city."

One casual visit to her father's study; an unplanned collision with the malevolent Russian Bratva mafia boss plunged her life into a downward spiral. Forced to marry him for an alliance that bordered on keeping her family's business stronger, she had no choice but to accept her fate after an unsuccessful attempt at absconding right before the wedding. But with each new discovery about him, she realized that the masked husband she despised so much had several layers that tugged at her heartstrings, giving her no choice but to fall deeply for him. However, what happens when the dreary and dark secrets from his past resurfaces and threatens to disrupt not just their blooming relationship and his position as Capo, but their existence as well?

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 was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

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.

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.

I stood alone at the center of my art gallery opening, clutching a glass of warm champagne, while the guests whispered behind their hands. My husband, the Capo of the Chicago Outfit, wasn't there. A breaking news alert on my phone explained why. It was a high-definition photo of Dante shielding his mistress, Isabella, from the rain. He was touching her with a protective possessiveness he had never once shown me. Then came his text: "Isabella needed me. Go home." That was the moment the cage door unlocked. I didn't go home to cry. I went to his office the next morning with a stack of papers disguised as "gallery insurance forms." While Isabella sat on his desk, mocking me for being a boring housewife, Dante was too annoyed to read the fine print. He just wanted me gone so he could get back to her. He signed the divorce decree. He signed the asset dissolution. Most importantly, without looking, he signed the irrevocable relinquishment of parental rights. I walked out with my freedom, but fate had a cruel sense of humor. That night, I stared at a positive pregnancy test. I was carrying the Sovrano heir he had always demanded. And he had just legally signed away his right to ever know his child. I fled to the Swiss Alps, vanishing into the snow to raise my baby away from his world of blood and bullets. I thought I was safe, until six months later. Dante hadn't just sent men to look for me. He had burned his own shipping empire to the ground, destroying his status as King, just to prove he would trade it all for the wife he threw away.

"Fifty strikes," Floyd ordered, his voice devoid of warmth. I knelt in the freezing snow, watching the man I had taken a bullet for five years ago stand beside his new fiancée, Jaylah. Because Jaylah tore her engagement dress and blamed me, Floyd let his men beat me until my face was unrecognizable. But that was just the beginning of my hell. To save his alliance with Jaylah's family, he drained my blood to save her mother, ignoring my own fading pulse. When Jaylah lied that I tried to burn her, Floyd forced me to thrust my hands—my architect's hands—into glowing coals until the flesh melted. He stripped me of my name, my protection, and finally, my life. "You are a liability," he said, pushing me into the freezing pool with a skimmer pole. He watched me drown with the same detached interest he used to inspect firearms. My lungs burned, and my heart turned to ice. I died hating him more than I ever loved him. I thought it was the end. But then, I gasped. Air rushed into my lungs. I wasn't in the water. I was sitting at a drafting table, five years before the nightmare began. My hands were smooth. No scars. No burns. And when Floyd Meyers approached me on the quad, smiling like the boy I used to love, I didn't smile back. I ran.

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."