Lord Comfort

She was a hacker sought out by mafia gangs and Luca Santoro was finally able to get his hands on her where she worked as a hostess to cover up her hacker identity. "You're just a mere pawn in my game, Ash Vega." "I am Astrid, no longer Ash Vega. Get it straight, Don Santoro." As they both went deeper and deeper into the darkness lurking, they developed a relationship they couldn't define. But she was good with codes, she could break the codes in his heart to define what they were. The more valuable an asset, the more it is sought for in the underground world. More giants rose in order to claim the valuable one Luca Santoro possesed. Will he be able to protect her?

After a one-night stand with Gavin Russell, the Powerful and cold alpha CEO, Iris Green was smitten and she thought there could be something between them after realizing they were fated mates. Her hopes were crushed by his harsh words, "I don't eat the same food twice." Broken, she returned to her city to manage her family business but soon realized that a seed had been planted. Giving birth to a set of twins, she could not endure raising them alone, when they looked exactly like him. She sent one of them to Gavin with a note, "Dessert after supper." Gavin frowned when he received the parcel, from his son. He sent people to fetch that blondie but it was as if she disappeared from the face of the earth. Of course, the Green family was mysterious and she was the new head of the family. She only gets seen whenever she wants to be.

"You dare," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "You dare run from me? On this night of all nights?" His grip tightened as his eyes swept over me, cold and cruel. "Do you think dye and lenses can save you from me, Ximena?" My heart shattered. Because I wasn't Ximena. And he wasn't listening. Mildred Gayle was never meant to be seen, let alone chosen. On the night the Supreme Alpha King is set to wed, Mildred is cast out of her home and into the dark streets of the capital. Mistaken for the king's missing bride, she is dragged into the palace and thrown at the feet of Hayden Blackthorne, a ruthless Alpha whose fury is as deadly as his power. When he discovers she is not the woman he was promised but his fated mate, Hayden rejects her without mercy. With his true bride gone and the kingdom watching, Hayden forces Mildred into a marriage built on lies and fear. Trapped in a castle of secrets, she becomes a queen in name only. Watched, controlled, and denied love. As enemies close in and whispers of betrayal grow louder, Mildred realizes that the woman she was mistaken for, Ximena, left behind secrets dangerous enough to destroy the throne, and kill her. When war reaches the palace and Mildred makes a fateful choice, Hayden must face the truth he tried to deny. She was never weak. She was never disposable. And losing her may be the one thing even an Alpha King cannot survive.

Ava had been scarred by her past relationship and had sworn off men for two long years. However, her best friend convinced her to attend a masked party, where she met a mysterious stranger. They shared a night of passion, but Ava soon discovered that she was pregnant and had no clue who the father was. Despite her best efforts, Ava was unable to locate the man, and decided to raise the child alone. 2 years later, fate intervened, and Ava and the mysterious man were brought together once again. But their reunion was fraught with obstacles, including the disapproval of Ethan's wealthy and influential mother, who believed Ava was not good enough for her son. Would they be able to overcome their differences and build a life together, or would their relationship crumble under the intense pressure and scrutiny?

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 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.

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 am a top-tier assassin. My ultimate target is Apollo Buck, the ruthless billionaire head of the Ninth Circle, known in the underworld as Thanatos. To infiltrate his impenetrable fortress, I used his dying nephew as bait, disguising myself as a pathetic, terrified janitor with a ghost identity. It worked. But Apollo has a deadly secret: a cursed Wyvern mark that makes him violently despise women. Yet, the moment his skin touched mine, his agonizing pain vanished. Obsessed with this unnatural peace, he dragged me into his heavily guarded estate. But when night fell, the trembling maid vanished. I broke into his exclusive club to slit his throat, only to realize I had walked straight into a trap. The real Thanatos was waiting for me. We engaged in a brutal fight on the roof. His strength was inhuman, and he nearly killed me, slashing my thigh open with a combat knife. How did he anticipate my every move? And why did his murderous rage suddenly falter the second he smelled the cheap mints crushed in my pocket? Bleeding out, I barely managed to scale his electrified fence and crawl back into my oversized maid uniform just as he kicked my bedroom door off its hinges. "Don't shoot! Please!" I sobbed hysterically, perfectly masking my agonizing combat wound as sheer terror. As Apollo grabbed my collar, desperately searching for the assassin who had just fought him, he only saw a fragile, trembling girl. The hunt had just begun.

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 seven years, I was his eyes. But the moment he regained his sight, he decided to marry someone else. Seven years of devotion couldn't buy his heart. I gave him back his dignity. Now that he was restored as the Godfather of the New York Mafia, he laughed with others, degrading me to the status of a mere "mistress." He thought I didn't understand Italian, but I heard him loud and clear: he was going to marry his first love. He arrogantly believed I would always love him, willing to stay in his penthouse like a caged bird. But he was wrong. I boarded a one-way flight to Australia. Dante, I don't want you anymore. By the time he returned home, he would have lost me forever. But a sore loser refuses to concede. Even if he had to burn the world to the ground, he would search for me and beg for my forgiveness.

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 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 am the wife of Julian Falcone, a powerful mafia boss, but my title in this house is nothing but a joke. When our car broke down in a deadly blizzard, Julian rushed to the scene, only to bypass me entirely. He wrapped his heavy coat around his fragile cousin, Livia, and put her in his only available passenger seat. "Livia's constitution is too weak to survive this cold. I have to take her back first." He left me to freeze in the pitch-black car for the entire night. When his men finally dragged my half-dead body out the next morning, they openly mocked me, calling me a piece of "collateral" that the boss wouldn't care about as long as I was breathing. Back at the estate, Julian didn't even ask if I had survived the frostbite. Instead, he stormed into my sickroom, demanding I treat his mistress with respect just because my absolute silence had hurt her feelings. His grandmother then publicly humiliated me for failing to provide an heir, while Livia flaunted the custom diamond bracelet Julian bought to soothe her "fright" from the storm. I finally understood. He didn't marry me out of honor to save my fallen family. He just needed my aristocratic Rossi blood to legitimize his new-money mafia empire. I was never a wife. I was a transaction he was willing to let freeze to death. When his men delivered a heavy diamond necklace to buy my submission, I didn't cry or beg. I dropped the blood diamond into the deepest drawer, and began to plan my escape.

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."