BlackFlame

A twenty-year-old, Zaina Amara Jones, has been kicked out of her thirtieth attended School due to a reason she sent more than ten bitches bullies to the hospital. She's untamed, unpredictable, heartless, dangerous and a type of lady you shouldn't wish to mess with. She's not afraid of anything, even death, because for her... She has nothing to lose. A twenty-seven-year-old, Vaughn Russo, found himself having an interest in a certain girl. From the first time he laid his eyes on her, he knew already he would do everything for him to make her his. He's cold, intimidating, ruthless, stoic and a type of man you shouldn't want to see or meet. He can kill you without any hesitation because, for him, killing is just normal. Two fearless people, one being tamed and untamed. What will happen when their paths cross? It's either there will be peace or war.

Vishiea and Darius were originally childhood lovers. They grew up together until they found out they were mates. But as days passed, Darius slowly fell out of love. He secretly cheated. Until one time, Vishiea captured him making love with someone else. She was heartbroken and confronted him. She expected him to beg and apologise sincerely, but he didn't. She made him choose, and if he broke up with her, he would lose her forever. But before he could say something, a guard rushed towards their direction and said an unexpected message. Lies, betrayal, and challenges. Will love conquer it all? A Lycan's Tears.

Collyne Keigh Fuentabella, a nerdy, childish and slow minded girl who has multiple secrets. Despite of having a gentle face, a secret is being hidden. A secret that hides her true identity. She only wants to finish her study peacefully but she ends up falling in love with Calyx Kyle Dela Vega. The Gang Leader of Dark phoenix gang. The Rank 1 of District 1. Calyx despises Blue Empress that happens to be her. She hides her true identity because she's afraid. She's afraid that what will happen to her if Calyx will learn to know the truth. A love story bounded by a secret. "Will you still love me when you find out who really I am?" - Collyne Keigh Fuentabella

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.

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."

My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen. But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman. "Our little secret is growing." The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar. "The only exit from this Family is death," he warned. The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate. I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves. He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy. He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire. I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative. "Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first."

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 was the wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country. But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage. In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me. I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth. My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated. I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife. In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed. Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets. I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse. Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began. Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears. "Take your time to think about it." This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life. I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned.

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.

Luca DeLuca was never meant to be a king. Born into one of the most powerful mafia families, he was raised in the shadows of blood and violence-protected, sheltered, and kept far from the world his father ruled with an iron fist. But when Don Salvatore DeLuca is assassinated, everything changes. The empire his father built is now crumbling, threatened by enemies within and outside the family. Forced into a throne he never wanted, Luca must learn to navigate a world of betrayal, power, and brutal survival. He isn't a killer. Not yet. But in the mafia, power is earned in blood-and to lead, he must be willing to lose everything, including the last pieces of his soul. But Luca's battle isn't just against the underworld's deadliest players. It's against himself. As he struggles with the darkness seeping into his veins, a forbidden love threatens to shatter everything. Torn between the woman who makes him feel human and the ruthless empire that demands his loyalty, Luca must decide: Is he willing to sacrifice love for power? Or will love be his greatest weakness? In a world where trust is a death sentence and mercy is a myth, Luca DeLuca must either rise as a legend or die as a footnote.

"I know you want me." Damien said in a deep hoarse voice. I turned to look at him. "I can never want a ruthless man like you." "Your eyes are telling a different story Alison." Damien said, taking a step forward. I took a step backward but Damien had stopped me, his hands traveled across my dress. My breathe hitched in my throat as his hands paused. "Your body is saying a different story." Damien leaned closer. "You can't resist me Alison." "I-" my voice cracked. At that moment I realized he was right. I wanted Damien Santos. Right now. In his room. *** Alison had it all-wealth, love, and a perfect life-until her conniving stepsister, Mabel, destroyed everything. Framed for infidelity,Alison's husband throws her out of the house, leaving her penniless and homeless. Just when she hits rock bottom, Alison crosses paths with Damien Santos-a cold and ruthless mafia boss who rules the highlands. Unaware of who he truly is, Alison's brief exchange with him takes an unexpected turn, placing her under his dark, protective shadow. What starts as a chance encounter quickly spirals into a web of secrets and lies. As Alison uncovers the truth about Damien's identity, she realizes their meeting wasn't accidental. Dark revelations from her past resurface, tying her fate to his in ways she never imagined. Can Alison reclaim her life, or will she lose herself in the dangerous world Damien has pulled her into?

The roar of the South Philly sports bar was music to my ears, the cheers for my "Oracle" predictions ringing hollow as I saw the smiling faces of my childhood friends. Just one week from now, in a life I' d already lived, these same friends would lose everything on my predictions and leave me for dead in a dirty alley. They' d blame me, screaming King K, the flashy influencer, had called it an hour before I did, beating me until I stopped moving. Now they pressed me for more "sure things," their greed a mask over the rage I knew was coming, their loyalty as thin as their winnings. Then my Uncle Leo, the only family I had, intervened, pulling the "exhausted niece" card, a gesture that filled me with relief, even as I felt a pang of guilt for my coldness. But relief turned to dread when he revealed his "heart condition" and a staggering medical bill, claiming he' d lost all our savings on a "bad tip"-a lie designed to force one last, massive prediction from me. The betrayal of my previous life faded into the background, eclipsed by the desperate reality of his illness, trapping me into playing the Oracle again. I poured my soul into the data, finding a perfect, obscure rookie bet, only to see King K post the exact same pick minutes later, confirming a sickening truth: Uncle Leo was leaking my intel. My blood ran cold when I found the unique Eagles watch I' d given my uncle on King K' s wrist in an old photo, realizing my uncle was not only feeding my analysis to his secret boyfriend but was systematically destroying my reputation to build King K' s brand. The pieces clicked: it was always planned. But this time, I was ready. I cashed out my winning soccer bets (which King K had predictably tried to steal credit for, missing my trap bet entirely), and used every dime on one final, impossible gamble: the "unbeatable" NFL team would lose after their star quarterback suffered a season-ending injury in the first quarter-an event I remembered with horrifying clarity from my past life. I packed a bag, ready to watch King K, Uncle Leo, and every single soul who had called me a fraud, who had plotted my demise, lose everything and face the loan sharks I knew would be coming.

I stood over the fresh dirt of my four-year-old son's grave. My husband, the Don of the Stark family, didn't hold my hand for comfort. He only adjusted his cuffs and checked that the diamond necklace he forced on me looked good for the cameras. "Stop crying," he whispered into my hair. "You're making a scene." Two days later, I woke up to the sound of shattering glass in the nursery. A strange boy stood there, smiling over the broken remains of my son's favorite snow globe. "This is Cody," my mother-in-law said coldly. "He's family. He stays." When I demanded he leave, Eli looked at me with dead eyes. "Material things can be replaced, Harper. The boy stays." Suspicion led me to the library door, where I heard the impossible truth. Cody wasn't a distant cousin. He was Eli's illegitimate son. And worse—while my son was drowning alone in the pool, Eli hadn't been at a business meeting. He had been in bed with his mistress. I realized then that the silver bracelet he had gifted me wasn't jewelry. I pried it open and found the blinking red light of a tracker. I was a prisoner in a cage of gold. So, I decided to die. I staged my suicide at the bridge, vanished into the night, and paid a shadow doctor to wipe my memories clean. I became Avery. I was happy. I was free. Until six months later, when a man in a black suit walked into my small-town cafe and looked at me with the eyes of a wolf. "Harper," he growled. "Come home."