Eagle Woman

Annette Vasquez is broken and desperate to talk to Ryan, her ex-boyfriend who broke up with her a month ago. When an intimidating man appears on her door dressed in all blacks, she runs for cover and sends Ryan a text for help. Vicente Di Alberto is the Don of the Italian Mafia, cold, ruthless and untouchable. A strange message pops up on his phone which has him acting on impulse. He hates men who hurts women and he is ready to save and protect the woman calling for his help. Rescued by a sinfully handsome man, Ann feels safe around him until she finds out his real identity and also finds herself married accidentally to the most feared man in Italy. She wants out but Vicente is ready to use the accidental marriage to his advantage.

Claire thought she had everything figured out. After discovering that another woman was pregnant with her husband's child, she made up her mind-she was done with Xandros. Armed with divorce papers, she walked out of his life, ready to take control of her own future. But what she didn't expect was for Xandros to let her go so easily. Then everything went dark. When Claire woke up in a hospital with no memory of how she got there, she's stunned to learn from her friend, Quinn, that she's married to Xandros-and that she's just ended their marriage the night before. But there's more-her father won't say a word about who Xandros really was. What happened to her? Why was she divorcing him? And what exactly did Xandros do to ruin her so completely? With nothing but a blurry past and a dangerous need for revenge, Claire is determined to reclaim her memory and get back at the man who betrayed her-even if she's carrying his babies.

Andrea Silva was forced to marry her twin sister’s supposed boyfriend after her twin sister, Camila Silva ran away. Andrea was deeply heartbroken when she found out the man she had just wedded was in love with her sister and she was just a substitute till Camila was back. Andrea thought she could make Damine Fel fall for her but what would happens when her sister comes back and want her boyfriend back? What would happen when her husband forced her to agree to a divorce? What would happen when she found out she was pregnant for him but he didn’t want anything to do with her?

Arabella finds out she is pregnant with a child for her husband, Richard Giodano. She wants to inform him about it when she hears him speaking on the phone with Eve Rogers, his ex-lover. Because of Eve's arrival back into the states, Richard wants a divorce. That has always been the plan until he finds Eve cheating on him with his best friend. Five years later, they bump into each other at a party and Richard finds out his ex-wife is not only back with a child but is also a hot sexy CEO of Eagle Homes and Interiors. Even when she pretends not to know him, he vows to stop at nothing to chase after and win her back.

When Valerie Adams gets to know that she is betrothed to the youngest billionaire in New York, just to save her father's dying company, it is two nights after she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with her best friend. She is upset with the news of the betrothal and becomes more pissed when she finally meets him. Ryan Lorenzo is the most arrogant, pompous, and cold-hearted guy she will ever cross paths with. He is less interested in keeping a woman but what he needs is a wife to satisfy his parent's desires for him to be married and considered responsible. Valerie decides to take advantage of the situation, to save her father's company and to make her cheating boyfriend jealous. She suggests a CONTRACT for their marriage and Ryan is making the RULES.

When Jasmine Cooper runs into a drunk rapist, a man saves her. It is Xavier Ravarivelo, the billionaire Mafia whose bride left him at the altar. Jasmine Cooper looks just like his run-away bride, Andre, who was being forced to walk down the aisles with Xavier. Jasmine has the same look and tattoo as Andre but different hair color and personality. Taking her against her will; he forces her to marry him. He wants revenge for the humiliation he got after his supposed bride left him at the altar but Jasmine is hell-ass sure she never abandoned anyone at the altar. How will Xavier find out that Jasmine is different from his runaway bride? How long will it take for Xavier to note the difference between Jasmine and Andre?

"He is not yours!" She affirms with a confident and unwavering look. "Whose child is he, then?" I question, my eyes wandering to the boy with piercing blue eyes like mine. Celine narrows her eyes with her hands clenched. "He is mine!" "What about his father? Who is he?" I drop my hands lazily and watch her intensely. "That is none of your business." She says defensively. "It means he is mine and I am taking him", I conclude with a smile and walk past her to pick up the child who is already dozing off. "No, no, no!" Celine chants, blocking my way. "Please, don't take him. I beg you!" **** After realizing she was pregnant which was not part of the deal she made with Billionaire Bryan Martinez, Celine left his mansion before the end of the contract. When they meet again and he discovered the secret she was hiding from him, he decided to punish her by taking custody of the child. What will happen when the baby wants his mother close to him? Will this reunion blossom the love between them before her departure? How sweet will Bryan's revenge be for Celine?

It Is a one-night stand for a 24 years old college girl, Annabelle. With no strings attached. When she sees her baby father on the cover page of a magazine tagged as a billionaire and a Casanova, her mother is set on using him to change their poor status. Aidan is a 26 years old billionaire with a high sexual urge, ever since the night with Anna. He is less interested in keeping a woman and having a baby is totally out of it. When confronted with the news of Anna's pregnancy, he denies it until her mother threatens to tarnish his image. Will Aidan agree to the marriage? Will Anna keep the pregnancy even after the rejection? Will she be able to take his insults and the fact that he finds her unwanted?

Isabella needs a huge sum of money for her aged grandmother's surgery. She has nowhere to go for help and she decides to seek help from her Billionaire boss, Jayden. Jayden doesn't believe in marriages and happily ever after but he needs a wife so his mother would stop pestering him when he eventually proves to her that marriage isn't for him by getting divorced after a year. Isabella comes to him for help at the right time; a contract is signed and there will be no strings attached. After a year, they will both go their separate ways. What will happen after a night of drunken passion between them? Will Isabella be able to endure his cruelty for just one year or leave before the stipulated time for their marriage to end? Will Jayden find Isabella or let her go with his seed growing inside her?

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.

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 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."

For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe. On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring. Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger. Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family. When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence. "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets." My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet. He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts. He was wrong. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use. Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed. *I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.* His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning. *The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?* I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me. I looked down and typed three letters. *Yes.*

I went to the family lawyer for a routine travel clearance. Instead, I was handed a divorce decree. The ink was three years old. While I had been playing the role of the dutiful Capo's wife, Dante had secretly divorced me the day after our fifth anniversary. Twenty-four hours later, he legally married the nanny, Gia, and named her cruel-eyed son as his heir. I returned home to confront him, only for the boy to throw boiling tomato soup on me. Dante didn't check my burns. He cradled the boy and looked at me with pure, drug-fueled hatred, calling me a monster for upsetting his "son." The final blow came in a parking garage. A car sped toward us. Dante didn't pull me to safety. He shoved me into the vehicle's path, using my body as a human shield to protect his mistress. Lying broken on the asphalt, I realized Aria Vitiello was already dead to him. So, I decided to make it official. I arranged a private flight over the Atlantic and ensured there were no survivors. By the time Dante was weeping over the wreckage, realizing too late that he had been poisoned against me, I was already in France. The Canary was dead. The Reaper had risen.

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 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.

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.

On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table. Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen. "Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over." I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward. Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant. She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest. As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me. He hugged her. "It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you." The betrayal didn't stop there. When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police. When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations. He declined the call. He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife. That was the moment the chain broke. As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come. I opened the door and jumped into the dark. Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement. Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one.

My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent. But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress. Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you." To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife. When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala. He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent. He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters. He thought he had broken me. He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage. But he made a fatal error. He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign. They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me. And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck. I didn't jump to die. I jumped to be reborn. And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin.