Ning Ruoshui

For three years, I was the invisible, obedient wife of Julian Falcone, the ruthless Don of the East Coast. I secretly ran my own underground network, laundering his money to secure his throne, hoping to finally earn his love. But he brought his childhood sweetheart, Elena, back from Europe and publicly paraded her at the syndicate gala, leaving me standing alone like a piece of furniture. He even moved her into our master suite, letting his mother and the entire family humiliate me as a nameless civilian. I was nearly five months pregnant with his heir, but he was too busy building a fake mafia resume for his mistress to notice my suffering. He used the very funds I had cleaned for him to buy her a throne, while his capos laughed at my expense. Lying alone on the cold operating table to abort his child, my last shred of devotion withered and died. I had labored in the dark for a man who only wanted a doll to arrange in his house while he built an empire for another woman. "I must go arrange a divorce." I packed my worn suitcases, left the annulment papers on his desk, and walked out of the estate. At the upcoming National Commission Summit, I will step out of the shadows as the true Boss of the W.E.N. Network, and let my husband watch his world burn.

I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question. But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump. "This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth. "Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project. I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears. Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.

In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters. I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone. Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate. They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run. As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance. "She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed. "Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back. I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood. Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start. Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies? Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room. Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever. I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me. This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.

I went to the Alpha Heir's office to tell him I was pregnant. I thought three years of devotion meant something. Instead, I heard him laughing with his mistress. "She's just a pet," Holden said. "A placeholder until you were ready." While I lay bleeding in the clinic, mourning my lost child, Holden sent a "prank" cake laced with ghost peppers to the only father figure I had left. The shock gave the old man a heart attack, killing him instantly. Holden didn't know about the miscarriage. He didn't know he had killed his own heir. He just dragged me out of the hospital bed and ordered me to be a bridesmaid at his wedding to the mistress. "Kneel and hold her train," he commanded, using his Alpha Voice to force me down. "That is your place." He thinks I'm broken. He thinks I'm trapped because I'm a weak Omega. But he forgot about the bet he made six months ago. He bet me as a prize in a street race against the ruthless Alpha King—and lost. I dialed the private number I swore I'd never use. "You won," I whispered into the phone. "Come get me." Holden is waiting for me at the altar, expecting a submissive servant. He has no idea that the Alpha King is coming to claim his prize, and his world is about to burn.

The surgeon told me I had one hour to save my right hand, the one that spun my soul into symphonies. My husband, Don Dante Rossi, gave that hour to his mistress for a minor fracture. The surgeon pleaded with him, explaining that every minute we delayed risked catastrophic, permanent damage. But Dante just looked at our ten-year-old son, Nico. “What do you think?” Nico met my eyes from the gurney, his own gaze chillingly calm. “Mamma is strong. She’ll understand the sacrifice. Besides,” he added, “if she’s in pain, it means she loves us more.” My hand was ruined, my career as a composer over. But for them, the game was just beginning. They needed my jealousy, my tears, my pain, to feed their sick definition of love. They pushed me down a flight of stairs just to watch me cry. I had mistaken my husband’s obsession for passion, his cruelty for a test. I finally saw it for what it was: a pathology of ownership. My suffering was their trophy. Lying broken at the bottom of the stairs, I heard my son's voice float down. “See, Dad? Now she's really crying. She really does love us.” Something inside me didn't just break; it turned to ice. When my lawyer visited me in the hospital, I took the papers he brought. In our world, a Don’s wife doesn’t leave. She endures or she disappears. I signed the divorce petition. I was choosing war.

My family' s crimes finally caught up to us. To save them, I had no choice but to "sell" myself to Sarah Jenkins, my ex. She was the daughter of my family' s biggest victim, and she made me her personal assistant, a pawn in a game of twisted revenge. For three years, her luxurious penthouse became my cage. I endured unimaginable physical and psychological torture, from electric shocks and beatings to being forced to sleep on the floor and eat scraps. When her new husband, Mark Peterson, joined in, things worsened. He carved the word "CRIMINAL" into my arm, turning me into a branded animal. Consumed by despair, I plotted to crash a private jet with them onboard, but Sarah's desperate cry to protect Mark, the man who aided in my torment, made me hesitate. Their twisted dependency baffled me; why would she protect him after all he' d done? Then, Mark found the ashes of my parents, which I had secretly saved, and began to mix them with mud, planning to use them as shark bait. My last shred of dignity shattered. I pleaded with Sarah, reminding her of her promise to leave their remains untouched, but she coldly dismissed it. As she watched, I scooped the filthy ash into my mouth, choosing to become their grave. I was broken, bleeding, and ready to die. But my desperate act triggered a response in her I hadn't seen. She pushed Mark away, protecting me in her own brutal way, just before I pulled her into the ocean with me. In the cold depths, surrounded by sharks, I found myself fighting to save the woman who had systematically destroyed me. It still bewilders me why a love so broken, so entwined with hatred, could force such a sacrifice. My death was inevitable, but it brought me a strange peace. Little did I know, Sarah had meticulously planned every cruel act, using me to destroy Mark. Yet, in her twisted revenge, she blurred the lines between love and hate so completely that my sacrifice somehow became her ultimate redemption. My story has ended, but hers has just truly begun.

I died on a Tuesday, a stress-induced heart attack ending the brilliant career of Gabrielle Smith, Chicago's corporate law star. My spirit lingered, an invisible spectator at my own memorial, watching Andrew Clark, my childhood friend and secret love, console Molly Johns, the paralegal I'd taken under my wing. Then came the whispered confession that shattered my spectral peace: Molly, hysterical, admitted she swapped the evidence file to protect the client, promised a fortune. But Andrew's next words were the real kill shot. Stroking her hair, he revealed he knew all along, that he helped her cover it up, that he was tired of living in my shadow and wanted me to take the fall. The betrayal was a jolt, a blinding flash that ripped through my disembodied form, extinguishing the scent of funeral lilies and replacing it with the familiar smell of my office. I gasped, a lung-filling breath, snapping my eyes open to see my hand resting on my mahogany desk, the clock reading 3:15 PM. A knock came at the door. "Gabrielle? I have the final discovery files for the Russo case," Molly's voice said. I looked at the calendar. It was the very day my downfall began. But not this time. This time, I knew.

Lily went straight to the bar and drowned herself in alcohol the day she found out about her boyfriend cheating on her. Drunkenly, she staggered towards him and whispered, "Is one million enough for you?" An irritated Kevin merely took her to his room. As if this news wasn't bad enough, the following day, Lily was told that her family went broke. Kevin didn't seem the least bit fazed. Instead, he offered to marry her to help her out. Unbeknownst to her, Kevin had other reasons why he wanted to put their relationship on a marriage contract. Albeit he knew this was an irrational move, he couldn't seem to shake off his feelings for her... It was as though he were obsessed.

Catherine loved Marco with all her heart. Until she discovered that he had betrayed her with her own sister. Instead of defending Catherine, her family blamed her for standing in the way of their happiness. To them, she was nothing more than an unwanted daughter who had ruined the love story between Marco and the sister they had always favored. So Catherine gave them exactly what they wanted. She gave up Marco. She gave up the family that had never truly seen her as one of their own. Just when she thought her life couldn't get any worse, her parents sold her for twenty thousand dollars to an old, ugly man who had already been married once. Catherine thought her life was over. Then a stranger appeared and offered her a way out. His name was Lorenzo. He offered Catherine a contract marriage. He needed a wife. She needed protection. It seemed like a simple arrangement, and Catherine never expected it to change her life forever.Because she didn't know who Lorenzo really was. To the world, Lorenzo was a ruthless billionaire and the heir to one of the country's most powerful business empires. Behind closed doors, he was far more dangerous. He was the heir to a Mafia dynasty, a man who controlled an empire built on blood, fear, and absolute power. When Lorenzo offered Catherine a marriage of convenience, she accepted without hesitation. He needed a wife. She needed protection. Neither of them wanted love. At least, that was what they told themselves. But after Catherine became Mrs. Romano, Lorenzo's rules began to change. He wanted to know where she went, who she spoke to, and which man dared look at her for too long. The more Catherine tried to keep their marriage strictly business, the more possessive Lorenzo became. He no longer wanted a temporary wife. He wanted Catherine completely. Then Marco finally realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life and came back for her. He expected Catherine to still be the woman who waited for him, forgave him, and accepted whatever affection he was willing to offer. But Catherine was no longer that woman. The daughter her family discarded had become the wife of the most dangerous man in the underworld. And Lorenzo Romano would burn the world down before he let anyone take his wife away.

I didn't mean to call my boss. I definitely didn't mean to leave a seven-minute voicemail of dirty secrets about him. Working for Ruslan Oryolov is the job from hell. The man is impossible-demanding, arrogant, and way too gorgeous for his own good. After eighteen months of fetching his coffee and swallowing my pride, all I wanted was one night of stress relief. But the billionaire CEO of Bane Corporation isn't just a boss from hell. He's the head of the Oryolov Bratva-and now that he's heard every secret I never meant to share, he's decided to claim me. His contract. His rules. His protection for my three orphaned nieces and nephews-the only reason I'm signing my life away to a man I should fear. He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now he wants my soul.

She went to lose her virginity to her boyfriend... But woke up in his father's bed. Now, Isabella is trapped between two dangerous men- one who thinks he owns her... and one who refuses to let her go. Secrets. Desire. Betrayal. And a Mafia King who never shares what's his.

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.

Becoming a bride to settle a debt was never part of my dreams. Yet, my stepbrother's betrayal and a trap party turned my life upside down, shattering my illusions of a joyful marriage. Now, I'm faced with the harsh reality of being married to a ruthless Mafia boss, Alessio Marino. Can I trust his promises, or will my situation be worse than the abuse I endured from my stepbrother? With love stripped from my wedding vows, all I can do is cling to hope for God's mercy and summon the strength to navigate this perilous new life.

My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement. To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia. It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping. But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished. She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug. She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash. Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name. She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant. I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead. I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye. "Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you." Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth. "Prove it," he growled. I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip.

One wardrobe malfunction. Two people who don't belong together. Three awful "Be my wife." Everyone else is at this party to marry the host. I'm only here until I can get a ride home. When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction, I go find somewhere quiet to fix it. So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when, As my luck would have it, the door opens... And the man of the hour walks in. I wish I could say I played it cool. But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit... Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on. All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers. But Ivan has other ideas. He's decided who he's taking to the altar... And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."

Alexa Smith finds herself entangled with a Mafia bad boy; Baron Jackson. She must deal with his life as a part of her own because her mother gets married to Baron's father, making them step siblings. Despite their relationship as step siblings, event occurs and they find themselves falling for eachother. Will this Forbidden Love sail or will it crumble? Find out.

She signed the divorce papers with a steady hand and walked out without looking back. Roman Ashford expected tears. He got silence. And somehow, the silence was worse. For three years, Seraphina Montague was the quiet woman at his side. Forgettable, he thought. Easy to overlook. He was wrong about all of it. She was never just his wife. She was the heiress to one of the most powerful families in the country. She managed empires from the shadows. She saved his company in secret while she was already planning to leave him. Now she is untouchable, and Roman cannot stop watching. He wants her back. She has moved on. He is chasing a woman who never needed him. And the more he learns about who she really is, the more he understands exactly what he threw away. Some mistakes cannot be undone. Roman Ashford is about to find out if they can be earned back.