Nina GoGo

"Elena, that's not your name, is it?" he teased, sending a shiver down my spine. My breath caught in my throat as I felt his warm breath on my ear, my underwear was wet. ***** Isabella is the daughter of the former Mafia King. her family's downfall was orchestrated by her father's brother's betrayal, resulting in her expulsion. She was compelled to engage in smuggling from Avalia to Rome and eventually fled, assuming the new identity of a young girl. The city is divided into slums and rich areas, and is ruled by 7 mafia bosses. Eight years later, she met a mysterious boxer who always appeared in underground fighting arenas. He was a dangerous and charming man who always appeared when she was in trouble. Is there any secret behind his approach to her?

On her birthday, she was drugged, and her sister entered her fiancé's room instead of her, while she lost her virgin to a stranger in the neighboring room. Ten months later, she gave birth to a baby, and the next day, the baby's daddy came looking for her. "Do you have a house and savings?"she asked. The man looked puzzled. She accepted her fate and said, "Well, I guess I'm unlucky. From today on, I'll be responsible for earning money to support the family, and you'll be in charge of taking care of our baby." But who could have told her that the man she was supporting turned out to be a billionaire, the richest man in the town... And he was also a werewolf! So wait, her baby is a Hybrid?

"I reject you, Omega." "Alpha Lucas, there seems to be a misunderstanding. It wasn't me who-" "Save your breath, Omega. I've heard enough." "I would never accept an Omega as my Luna. " his voice had declared, a harsh decree that had struck me like a dagger to the heart. "You should learn from your sister, instead of becoming a worthless omega, don't you feel ashamed of so many scandals? Leave now, you should understand that your actions will hurt Seraphina." ************ I was a lone wolf, entangled in a web of secrets and lies, and the notorious male wolf I had just shared a bed with was the last person I should have been involved with. And as I stood there, the weight of my past and the uncertainty of my future crashing over me, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the price I had to pay for my reckless pursuit of freedom. I will counterattack and become a unique female warrior under three packs so that everyone can no longer despise and ignore me.

"Now, let's discuss sexual experience," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's essential for me to understand your level of comfort and any potential concerns in that aspect." I feel my cheeks flush, the topic leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before responding honestly, "I... I have not had previous experiences, but I am willing to learn. And... and I can assure you that I am absolutely clean." Alexander's gaze softens, and he almost seems surprised. But he eventually gives a soft laugh as he says, "I understand. Moreover, you still need to go through some tests to ensure that it is a smooth process." *********************** Hi, I’m Sophia, an ordinary college student. I have a happy family and two handsome roommates, but because of an accident, I had to secretly become a surrogate mother to pay for my father's enormous medical expenses. I don't know that the intended father, a polite and distinguished 34-year-old man, is the city's most influential and mysterious figure. And what is beyond my control is when I give birth, I’m shocked to discover that my twin babies have wolf ears!

When I woke up, I was naked and lying on a soft bed that wasn't mine, being held by a stranger whom I absolutely didn't recognize. At the same time, there was an intense pain between my legs, I nearly screamed out loud. Did I give my virginity to an unknown man?! ****************I am the youngest daughter of Silver Moon Pack's Alpha Aiden, and I have a twin sister. We look alike, but our destinies are completely different. She is a female warrior and is known as the next Alpha, while I am an Omega who cannot shift into a wolf, which is considered shameful by the Pack and my father. For 18 years, I have been guarding my virginity and waiting for my mate to appear and take me away until Blood Moon Pack Alpha's birthday, I had a one-night stand with the infamous Alpha Nicklaus, my father's enemy. When I found out he was my mate, I was rejected. I finally decided to hide it all, I got pregnant.

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 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."

I was the illegitimate daughter of a powerful mafia Consigliere, forced to scrub their marble floors while my half-sister Cassidy lived like a pampered princess. When Cassidy was ordered to marry a condemned, brutally tortured Underboss in a deadly blood-oath execution, my father dragged me to the underground black site to take her place. They forced me into a cheap wedding dress and locked me in a pitch-black cell with a dying man, expecting us both to catch an executioner's bullet. My stepmother even handed me a small glass vial through the iron bars—the exact same poison she had used to slowly murder my pregnant mother years ago. "The Don is issuing the kill order tonight. Drink this. Save yourself the agony," she mocked. My father simply stood by and watched, willingly throwing me to the wolves just to keep his precious legitimate daughter entirely safe. I stared at the poison in my calloused palm, and then at the bleeding, terrifying mafia boss chained to the concrete wall. They honestly thought I was just a disposable pawn, meant to die quietly in the dirt so they could continue building their glamorous underworld empire on my mother's bones. But they forgot I inherited my mother's underground medical brilliance. I pulled a sterilized scalpel from my hidden trauma kit, looked the deadly Underboss right in the eye, and made a blood vow that would soon burn my family's entire empire to the ground.

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

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.

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."

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.

For three years, I secretly used my hidden network of connections to build my husband's pathetic mafia syndicate into the absolute pinnacle of this city. Tonight was supposed to be the birthday dinner where I planned to finally reveal my true identity to him. Instead, Cassio left me all alone in that high-end restaurant and froze every single one of my accounts. Hours later, he returned with his mistress Lola and a group of heavily armed men. "You have nothing. No power, no money. You are completely worthless," Lola sneered triumphantly, viciously smashing a bottle of vintage red wine at my feet before landing a hard punch to my jaw. He announced to the roaring crowd of mobsters that I was being cast aside. Then, he gave me a cruel ultimatum. If I couldn't produce three hundred thousand dollars in thirty minutes, his men would strip me naked and throw me out onto the street, leaving me to be publicly humiliated for the entire city to see. Those sleazy capos closed in on me, staring with the greedy eyes of predators sizing up their prey. Looking at the man I had married out of genuine love, I finally understood that our wedding vows were nothing but a carefully calculated experiment to him. He truly believed I was just a helpless, penniless woman whom he could trample on at will just to please his mistress. He had no idea that I was Serena Falcone, the legendary heiress of the most cold-blooded mafia family on the East Coast. When the countdown ended and his men reached out to tear my dress, I calmly picked up a phone and summoned my real family. It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground!