Diny R.

Luna is an innocent girl who enters the life of a mafia. She becomes the object of obsession and love from the mafia who has kidnapped her. Her trauma around the mafia gradually fades as she gets to know Darius Vallerio, a ruthless mafia figure. The presence of this unfamiliar man turns Luna's life completely upside down. She becomes filled with fear of the stark reality of darkness, a twisted fate, and a world full of enemies. Luna must live her life with a mafia known for his cruelty. She follows a path that is far less fortunate than others. She was kidnapped, not to be made a prostitute, but for love and obsession from a mafia. Darius Vallerio, the man, is steadfast in all his beliefs, knowing no fatigue or weariness. The dreams he has envisioned must come true. His role as a mafia won't deter his good or bad intentions good or bad intentions.

"You will forever be mine, Kitten." Juliet didn't know what was happening to her. Her heart was racing, her body trembling, and her chest felt tight. Her vision blurred with tears, her head spinning, and her stomach nauseous. Terror and panic began to take over every time she tried to rise to the surface, only to fall deeper into the abyss of darkness. She had received countless letters from an unknown person, and each sent her into a panic attack. In addition to letters filled with obsessive words, the man included photos of Juliet. The man-whoever he was-knew Juliet very well. He knew the clothes she wore to work, her food, the music she listened to, and even the soap and shampoo she used. Initially, Juliet thought it was all just a prank, maybe because she wasn't part of the De Lavigne family. However, the letters increasingly revealed a terrifying obsession. He was a deranged psychopath. .... Juliet Winter Addison never expected that one night's mistake would trap her in a horrific nightmare. A psychopath who claimed and was so obsessed with her made Juliet afraid of her own shadow. Haunted by terror, Juliet decides to find out the man's identity, but she becomes entangled in a dangerous game. She couldn't tell anyone about what she was going through because Juliet didn't trust anyone. Not her boyfriend, Leo. Not even her stepbrother, Robbin. The man's threats forced Juliet to keep her mouth shut. How will Juliet react when she discovers the man's identity? What will she do? Juliet doesn't know how her story will end, but there is one thing she will fight for. And that is her freedom.

Luna Alicia is standing in the middle of a pitch-dark forest. Her whole body trembles in fear of the situation she's in right now. She's so confused and utterly clueless about what's going on. Her eyes are circling wildly, but there is nothing she can use as a clue to get out of this situation so she can come back. How come? What's going on? Is this all just a dream? But when Luna pinched her arm and felt the pain, it meant that what was happening to her was real. Her teary dark brown eyes again lead to an abandoned temple, where she first set foot in this strange and mysterious situation. Her body trembled as the cold blew hard against her. She was wrapped in a maroon-coloured knee dress with a famous brand, a dress she had bought suddenly at lunch. Once again, it was a sign that what she was going through was real and not a dream. Has she started to lose her mind? Is she hallucinating? Did she accidentally take sedatives? But Luna stopped taking them three years ago after her psychiatrist said that she was better and declared successful in fighting the depression she suffered. She took a long breath. The cell phone in her hand still has a lot of battery power, something to be thankful for under these circumstances. Her eyes again glanced at her phone screen, swearing slowly at the absence of signal status and turning off the phone as she had to save on using her phone. Luna's slowing down. She'd better get back inside the temple. At least the temple was warm. Instead of standing still in the cold air or tracing the forest in the darkness, she waited until the sun rose. With that thought, Luna again entered the abandoned temple, which was indeed located in the middle of the forest. While inside the temple, Luna's gaze immediately goes towards the large mirror attached to the wall on the other side of the door. She unconsciously walks up to the mirror, stopping when he is right in front of it. Luna wipes slowly before shedding tears. Her hand is extended to touch the mirror surface, which shows Nicole in her apartment with a panicked and frightened face, searching for herself and shouting her name. "Nicole... Please help me... I'm here... I went into the mirror... And now, I am still determining what this place is and where... "Luna is cried sadly. ...

Alina faces difficult situations when supernatural beings and vampires overrun the world and stand firm as leaders. Surrender herself to the Emperor or let her family die at the hands of the bloodsuckers. ••••••••••••• I didn't know that my plan to go to a resort in neutral territory with my best friends ended up in the hands of the most powerful vampire on earth. A Vampire who sits on the throne and is notorious for his cruelty. Our meeting, which was so short, attracted him to me. He wanted me, and nothing could stop him from getting to me. When we returned face to face, the Emperor gave me the choice to go with him or watch my family and the rest of the city die at the hands of the vampires. To him, my blood was an ambrosia so addicted, and my smile could bring his long-dead heart back to life. Raised by the mother of the demons, the Emperor knows no compassion, but he slowly opens his heart to me, who has been dead and who I can't believe when he made me his chosen woman, his soulmate, his companion, Beloved him. He's willing to rebel against the woman who raised him. He put aside his respect for that woman for me. He chose me more when he was given a choice between me and that woman. The Emperor, who hated humans so much, chose me, who was just an ordinary human. This is my story-the story of fate's journey for me. I love an Emperor of Vampires. The Emperor Darren Phillipe Killian - Alina.

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."

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.

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."

I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.

The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over. He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows. The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace. When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her. He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war. I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family. Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

BLURB: River never intended to be pulled into the dangerous world of the Mafia, but a single moment of bravery changes everything. In an attempt to save the man who fuels her wildest fantasies, she unwittingly steps into the path of Rico Swavey, the ruthless Mafia Lord with a dark, hidden past. Rico has built his empire on control and secrecy, keeping his heart locked away. But when River, the doe-eyed woman who sparks something dangerous within him, stumbles into his life, his defenses begin to crumble. Haunted by a crime from his childhood, Rico struggles to accept love, especially from someone like River. What happens when she becomes a stripper in his club? Can River break through the walls around Rico's heart? And can Rico forgive himself for the sins of his past to embrace a future with her? Dive into their world of passion, danger, and redemption in HIS HEALING GRACE.

On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes. She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia." Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours. He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity. But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture." I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her. And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm. Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite. He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet. He is wrong. I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door. And I changed the groom. As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears. The Reaper.

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."

I was trapped in a locked-in state for six months, fully conscious but unable to move a single muscle. My step-family, Delma and Jazmyne, marched into my hospital room, forged a Do Not Resuscitate order, and yanked out my oxygen tube just to stop paying my medical bills. When my three-year-old daughter, Amari, leaped out from under the bed to protect me, they beat her mercilessly. They kicked my tiny girl in the stomach, smashed a heavy metal IV pole into her fragile shoulder, and dragged her out by her ankles. They even tied her to a tree in their backyard and let a massive Rottweiler tear into her flesh, laughing as they recorded her agonizing screams. I lay in that hospital bed, hearing every blow and every desperate cry. I didn't understand why they had to torture an innocent toddler just because they thought I was a worthless piece of trash with amnesia. A tidal wave of absolute fury crashed against the invisible walls of my paralyzed body, burning away the despair. Gritting my teeth until my jaw popped, I forced my dead weight off the mattress and dragged my atrophied legs across the freezing floor to a landline. With trembling, bloody fingers, I punched in a twelve-digit military-grade encrypted code. It was time for my real family—the most powerful men in the country—to make these monsters pay.