Jun Shangye

I died once. Betrayed, broken, and discarded by the most powerful man in New York. Now, I'm back. Reborn on the very day my husband, Dante Moretti, handed me an expulsion agreement. But this time, I know his secret. The coldness in his eyes isn't cruelty; it's a slow-acting poison, a betrayal creeping through his veins, fed to him by those closest to him. This time, I don't cower. I meet his icy command with a slap and an ultimatum: I carry his heir. To cast me out is to sentence his own bloodline to death. He is the untouchable Don, a king on a poisoned throne, fighting a war within his own mind. I am the ghost of the queen he tried to break, armed with the memories of our enemies' every move. I won't be a pawn in their game again. I will dismantle them all, from my treacherous sister to the viper he calls a mother. I will be the queen he needs, even if he fights me every step of the way. It's a vendetta.

I stood in the corner of the grand ballroom, trying to stay invisible despite the massive diamond on my finger. As the fiancée of the billionaire Arturo Watts, I was supposed to be the most envied woman in the room, but the suffocating scent of lilies felt more like a funeral than a gala. A waiter’s elbow clipped my arm, sending my clutch crashing to the floor and spilling its contents for everyone to see. Among my lipstick and phone lay a heavy, glittering brooch—the Pink Star diamond—that had just been reported stolen from the neck of a billionaire socialite. "Thief! Just like her father," the crowd hissed as cameras flashed like gunfire in my face. Tiffany Watts ground her heel into my bag, her eyes gleeful as she watched the "scammer's daughter" finally get caught. Just as security reached for my wrists, Arturo stepped out of the shadows, but he wasn't there to save me. He grabbed my face and kissed me with a brutal, bruising intensity, branding me in front of the news drones to turn my humiliation into a PR stunt for his company’s stock price. I thought I was being protected, but I soon realized I was just a prisoner in a gilded cage with new locks on the windows. I discovered the truth Arturo was trying to shred: I wasn’t his fiancée, I was his "key code." He was using my name to access fifty million dollars of my father’s hidden money, and he had blocked my FBI application to ensure I’d never uncover the trail. "I did it for you," he whispered, standing over me with the same cold, unreadable eyes he used on his business rivals. He thought he could buy my silence with designer gowns and a fake romance, but he forgot that I am my father’s daughter. I’m done being a liability in his corporate games. I’ve found the secret account and recorded his confession. If Arturo Watts wants to treat me like a target, I’m going to make sure I’m the one who hits the mark and takes every cent he’s hiding.

I went to The Ivy to return a box of scripts and hoodies, hoping to finally bury my past with movie star Harrison Knox. I just wanted to be a good wife to Julian Sterling and keep my family’s business merger intact. But Harrison had other plans. He staged a paparazzi ambush, pulling me into a fake embrace just as the cameras flashed. By the time I got home to our Bel Air estate, the headline "Harrison Knox Heartbroken? Tearful Reunion with Serena Vance" was already trending worldwide. The fallout was brutal. My father called, roaring that the stock was in freefall and threatening to stop my mother’s medical payments if I didn't keep Julian happy. My movie funding was pulled, leaving me to pawn my Birkin bags just to pay my staff. Even worse, Julian’s cold indifference turned into a sharp, quiet rage. He heard me tell a friend that our marriage felt like a transaction, and his response was to toss a black Centurion card at my feet like I was something he’d bought at an auction. I was trapped between a narcissist who wanted to use my trauma for his next script and a father who saw me as nothing but a bargaining chip. Even Julian, the man who secretly bought my movie rights through a shell company to protect me, believed I was still screaming my ex's name in my sleep. When my family finally demanded I lie and accuse Julian of domestic abuse to secure a settlement, I realized I had nothing left to lose. I walked away from the Vance name, deleted every memory of Harrison, and stood at the edge of the Pacific Ocean ready to let the tide take me. But Julian didn't come for a divorce. He found me in the dark, his coat heavy on my shoulders and his eyes burning with a possessive fire. "There is no divorce in the Sterling family," he whispered against my ear. "There is only widowhood. You are mine, Serena, until one of us is in the ground."

In New York, everyone knew Grady Allen lived for me, Emely Harrison. He was my shadow, my protector, my world, and our future seemed inevitable. But as I lay dying from ALS, I overheard him whisper, "Emely, my duty to you is done. If there is a next life, I pray I can be with Kandy." My world shattered. His lifelong devotion wasn't love, but guilt for Kandy Paul, a woman who had taken her own life after he' d left her. Reborn, I found Grady with amnesia, deeply in love with Kandy. To give him the happiness he truly desired, I concealed my own early-onset ALS diagnosis and broke off our engagement, telling his parents, "I won't chain him to a dying woman out of a sense of duty he doesn't even remember." Despite my efforts, Kandy' s insecurity led her to frame me, accusing me of throwing her engagement ring and setting fire to the mansion. Grady, believing her, threw me into a muddy pit and later choked me, snarling, "You're not even as good as a dog. At least a dog is loyal." During a kidnapping, I saved Kandy, nearly dying myself, only to wake in a hospital to learn Grady had spared no expense for her, while I lay abandoned. Why did he choose her, even when his body instinctively reached for me? Why did he believe her lies? I had given him everything, even my life, to set him free. Now, I would truly be free. I married my brother, Jeremiah, who had always loved me, and left Grady behind, whispering, "Be happy, Grady. We're even now. I'll never see you again."

For fifteen years, Ava Reed and Ethan Miller were Ghost and Shadow, an elite security duo woven from shared scars and unbreakable loyalty. Their world shattered the moment Chloe Davis, a client they were hired to protect, walked into their lives, and Ethan' s professional focus vanished, replaced by open infatuation. Ava watched, heartbroken, as Ethan ignored her tactical advice, prioritized Chloe' s every whim, and dismissed their shared history. The final blow came in a hotel hallway, not in a hail of gunfire, but with Ethan' s cruel dismiss al of Ava as "intense" to Chloe, followed by his public, condescending declaration that she was "nothing" without him after years of her literally taking bullets for him. Reeling, but refusing to be broken, Ava silently walked away from the wreckage of her past life, dialing a number she hadn't called in a decade to invoke an old family arrangement – a marriage to Liam Hayes, a recluse from a rival tech empire – a desperate, undeniable move to cleanse herself of Ethan' s betrayal. Yet, her escape was far from clean. Chloe, savoring her triumph, tracked Ava down and flaunted the ultimate insult: the cheap silver locket Ava and Ethan had shared, now around Chloe' s neck, a symbol of Ethan' s ultimate betrayal, as he callously dismissed its meaning. Just as Ava thought she had burned all bridges, Ethan reappeared at her wedding, a desperate, unhinged man, revealing a shocking truth about Liam. Now, Ava must unravel the true intentions of her new husband while grappling with the explosive fallout of her past.

Chloe Davis and I built a life together, starting from broke college kids to a married couple with a future, celebrating our tenth anniversary. But that morning, a chilling phone call shattered everything: Chloe, distracted and distant, hung up on me before I could utter another word, leaving me with a familiar cold dread. Later, a colleague' s photo brought the crushing truth: Chloe, hand resting comfortably on the arm of Liam Hayes, the ruthless CEO of OmniCorp, a velvet box and expensive cufflinks on the table-gifts I could never afford. The silent, wrapped gift on her nightstand - a first-edition book carelessly torn, unopened - confirmed her indifference, leaving me with a gut-wrenching question: how could the woman I loved betray me to this extent? The next morning, the betrayal escalated as my lead designer revealed OmniCorp had stolen our flagship game, 'Aetheria,' confirming a horrifying, undeniable picture: the person sleeping next to me every night was holding the knife, and I knew how to fight back.

My husband, Mark, walked in with her draped on his arm, a wide-eyed girl clutching a teddy bear, and casually announced she' d be staying with us. I watched, numb, as she ate chicken from his fork, her lips brushing the metal, her eyes locked on his-a brazen declaration made right at my dining table. The silence that followed, thick and heavy, was broken only by the wet thud of the entire roasted chicken I scraped into the garbage, his furious outburst echoing in the sudden chill of the room. He stood before me, defending her, blaming me, his eyes filled with a disappointment that screamed I was the problem, leaving me bewildered and furious at his immediate, instinctual betrayal. When I stormed out, leaving him alone with her, I thought I was simply escaping, but now I know that was the moment I stopped being his wife and started planning his downfall.

My life was perfect, or so I thought. Married for five blissful years to Ethan, the powerful CEO who publicly adored me, making me feel like his most cherished person, his greatest weakness. I believed him; I loved him with a fierce passion, a love I sincerely thought he returned. Then, one evening, I overheard his voice-low, serious-uttering words that shattered my entire world: "If I don't make Sarah the obvious target, how can Olivia continue her work in those conflict zones without becoming a pawn?" Olivia. His childhood sweetheart. Suddenly, all the "accidents"-the car bombings, the kidnappings, the trauma-fell into place; I was merely a decoy, a pawn in his twisted game to shield her. But the true horror unfurled when I painstakingly bypassed his "impenetrable" security and hacked into his private digital journal. Page after page, it boasted of his profound, yearning love for Olivia, followed by chilling entries about me: "Found the perfect candidate today. Sarah Jenkins. Intelligent, beautiful, but with a vulnerability I can exploit. She'll be a convincing decoy." He' d orchestrated my terror; he' d cultivated my dependence. The ultimate betrayal? "Sarah miscarried," he wrote. "A pity, in a way. But perhaps for the best. A child would complicate things with Olivia." His chilling indifference to our lost child, to my deepest grief, tore me apart. My love for him curdled into a cold, hard resolve, realizing I wasn't just a pawn, but a recipient of painful hand-me-downs, my deepest sufferings cruelly manipulated for his cruel agenda. How could the man I loved be such a monster? Yet, the shock quickly gave way to a steely determination. Ethan thought I was his unsuspecting wife, his perfect decoy. He didn't know the cybersecurity analyst I' d been, the skills I still possessed. I would play the loving wife, enduring his touch, while meticulously plotting my escape and, ultimately, his downfall.

My step-sister Brittany’s graduation party quickly devolved into a public mockery of me. My step-family and ex-boyfriend Jason relentlessly called me “slow” and “worthless.” The scar on my cheek, a constant reminder of Jason’s past negligence, tightened with each cruel word. My stepfather, Richard, then initiated a colossal public bet, wagering $100,000 I wouldn’t get into *any* state college. My stepbrother Kyle bet his Mustang GT on my SAT score being below a thousand, and Jason openly wagered valuable retail spots for Brittany’s assured triumph. They eagerly anticipated my utter public embarrassment over college acceptances and test scores. When I calmly wrote “0” on my estimated SAT sheet, the garden erupted in a deafening, cruel laughter. Jason, feigning disgust, publicly dumped me and added a family heirloom to the mounting betting pile. My step-family gleefully contributed their vacation condo and company shares, convinced of my impending ruin. Then, the official College Board site displayed "SAT Score: 0," unleashing a final, vicious torrent of triumph and online ridicule. My heart felt like cold stone, yet my face remained impassive as I watched their unveiled greed and contempt. They believed my humiliation was complete, oblivious to the technicality behind that "zero" score and the true story of my scar. This public spectacle, designed to destroy me, only hardened my resolve. However, just as my stepfather’s rage peaked, three black sedans arrived, and my formidable grandmother, Eleanor Miller, stepped out. Flanked by admissions deans from Harvard, Stanford, and MIT, she calmly announced my actual, flawless SAT score: a perfect 2400. They further revealed me as a National Merit Scholar and the sole heir to the multi-billion dollar Miller Industries. With their signed betting agreement, the Hayes family’s world was about to spectacularly unravel.

For ten agonizing years, the brand on my hip was a constant, burning reminder of my forced marriage to Ethan Harrison, a symbol of the shame he inflicted on me, the "charity case" his powerful family took in. But the dreaded decade was almost over. Freedom, a word I barely dared whisper, was finally within reach. Until tonight. At his family’s annual charity gala, surrounded by the city's elite, Ethan dragged me onto the stage, a predatory smile on his face. “We auction a unique experience,” he announced, tightening his grip on my arm. “An experience with my… wife, Sarah.” My private photos flashed across the giant screen, then a chilling close-up of the ugly mark on my hip, exposed for all to see. The crowd gasped as the bidding began. “The highest bidder will get… quality time with Sarah. Live-streamed, of course.” This wasn't just humiliation; it was a public sale, a human auction. His conniving "true love" smirked, as Ethan whispered chilling threats about my innocent brother. He owned me, he truly believed it. I stood there, an animal on display, utterly broken, the velvet ropes he bound me with biting into my skin. How could a man repay a life debt from my war hero grandfather by selling his wife? My family sacrificed everything, and this was my twisted reward? But just as despair threatened to consume me, a formidable figure emerged from the stunned crowd: Marcus Thorne, Harrison’s ruthless business rival. He brought with him an unexpected ally, and as Ethan raged, a shocking truth was finally revealed: my ten-year contract was up, my marriage over. My freedom, fiercely fought for in silence, was about to begin – and Ethan Harrison was about to learn that some debts are paid with more than just money.

Diana got a part-time job to teach art in college just because she was bored. However, never in her wildest dreams had she expected that she would offend Ryan, the genius but domineering CEO, who took over his family’s company at sixteen and extended its branches both at home and abroad. He played different tricks on her to vent his anger, but he gradually lost his heart to her before he came to the realization. Yet, she could not make a response to his love.

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.

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.

Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate. I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo. The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives. My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked. To her, I was finally being disposed of. She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left. She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex. "She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter. They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back. But they made a fatal mistake. With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon. I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him. And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner. He will be my vengeance.

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.

Standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, I waited to marry my wealthy fiancé in front of three hundred of New York's elite. But right before the vows, my phone vibrated in my bouquet. It was a text from my groom: he was backing out because my maid of honor—my supposed best friend—was pregnant with his child. Before the shock of this double betrayal could even settle, his mother dug her manicured claws into my arm and publicly humiliated me. "A woman who can't even attract her own man, how is she worthy of the Doyle name?" She mocked my background, calling me a worthless orphan who only knew how to draw blueprints, turning my broken heart into a public execution of my dignity. The terrified girl inside me vanished, replaced by a dark, burning rage. I didn't understand why I had to let this arrogant family step all over me while they played the innocent victims. I yanked my arm free, tore off my expensive lace veil, and walked straight to the podium to grab the microphone. "The wedding is canceled. The groom is currently busy with my maid of honor." I walked out of the church, leaving them in absolute shock. But as I stumbled onto the street, I fell right into the arms of Damiano Moretti—the exiled, dangerous mafia boss known as the Ghost, who sat in a custom wheelchair. Looking into his cold, storm-gray eyes, I made a reckless, desperate deal. "Marry me."

At my boyfriend's poorest moment, I suddenly broke up with him. Later, he became a Don in the Mafia and married me by any means necessary. Everyone said he loved me to the bone. But every night, he brought different women home, deliberately trying to provoke me. I asked no questions, shed no tears, and never disturbed his trysts with his mistresses. He went crazy with rage instead, kissing me fiercely and demanding, "Why aren't you jealous?" He didn't know I was sick. Dying. While he was furiously taking his revenge on me, I was slowly walking toward death.

My husband, Hudson Higgins, used my dowry to buy his way into the Chicago underworld while his family treated me like a servant in my own home. I endured their insults for the sake of my five-year-old daughter, Josie. But then, the unthinkable happened. I found Josie's small, lifeless body by the garden fountain, while my sister-in-law Karly and mother-in-law Eleanor stood by, complaining about their party plans. "She was just too naughty," Karly sneered, adjusting her pearls over my dead child. When I turned to Hudson for help, he looked at me with dead eyes and told me it was just her fate. In that moment of absolute grief, I remembered the words of the ruthless Don Damien Falcone: "Your husband is a man who knows how to close a deal." The truth sliced through me like a blade. Hudson hadn't just ignored the Don's interest in me; he had actively sold me to the Devil of Chicago to buy his seat at the table. He let his family punish me for the very sin he committed. I had lost everything-my dignity, my mother, and now my baby-all sacrificed for a man who traded his wife's body for power. The sorrow in my chest evaporated, replaced by a scorching, blinding thirst for a blood vendetta. After lunging at Hudson and feeling the world explode into white, I opened my eyes to find myself back in the winter of 1928. It was the exact night the nightmare began, and Don Damien Falcone was walking toward me in his penthouse. This time, I won't be the broken bird in his gilded cage. If Hudson wants to use me to climb the ranks, I will use the Don's dark obsession to burn the Higgins family to the ground.

"Happy Anniversary," my husband said, sliding the separation agreement across the mahogany desk. It was the eighteenth time in five years I had signed these papers. Matteo De Luca, the most ruthless Capo in New York, checked his Rolex with cold impatience. "Sign it, Sera. Bianca is on the ledge again. She needs to see we're over, or she jumps." Bianca. The ward. The broken bird. The woman whose fragile psyche dictated every moment of my marriage. I signed my name, and he left me alone on our anniversary to save her. Again. But saving her wasn't enough. When Bianca pushed me down a flight of marble stairs in a fit of jealous rage, shattering my spine and leaving me paralyzed, I thought Matteo would finally choose me. I was wrong. I woke up in the hospital to find him holding her hand, not mine. "The security footage has been wiped," he told me, his voice void of emotion. "We cannot have a scandal. You fell, Sera. That is the story." He erased the truth. He erased my pain. He protected the woman who crippled me over his own wife. Two months later, he wheeled me into a gala, playing the doting husband while I sat in the chair that was my prison. He didn't know I had a burner phone hidden in my velvet dress. He didn't know that tonight, the obedient wife was going to die on the pavement, and a ghost would rise in her place. I looked at him one last time and dropped the phone in his lap. "I hope she's worth it."

I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body. My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in. I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then- I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses. Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down- He's still hard. Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance. "You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless. "I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake. "Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat. And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm. "Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. *** Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge. She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez. He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her. What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated. Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty? And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?

Tomorrow was my wedding day to Jason Brennan, the heir to a powerful Mafia family. My family, the Falcones, had even taken in an orphaned girl, Elena, treating her like my own sister. But in my nightmare of a past life, I choked on my own blood, poisoned by the arsenic Elena slipped into my food every day. As I lay agonizingly close to death, Jason stood over me with a cold laugh, holding Elena in his arms. "We just needed the Falcone wealth, Bella. And the docks." Then came the gunfire. I was forced to watch them slaughter my father and my brother, tearing my family out by the roots. After my death, Elena even spread vicious rumors that I was a barren spinster, twisting their foul betrayal into a tragic tale of noble sacrifice to completely destroy my legacy. The metallic tang of my own blood was so real I could still taste the ash. I didn't understand why the girl my family sheltered for eight years would repay our charity with such venom. And I understood even less how the man who swore to love me could orchestrate my brutal murder without a shred of hesitation. Bolting upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, I realized I had returned to the night before my wedding. This time, I wouldn't just cancel the engagement. I would hand their treason directly to the Mafia's most terrifying Enforcer, and watch them burn.