Rhea Marie

What happens when a legendary assassin, trained in the shadows and feared by many, is assigned an unusual mission to become the personal bodyguard of a powerless princess? A princess so naive and fragile that she can't even recognize danger when it's right in front of her. Viviette Frerio The 16-year-old princess of the Frerio Kingdom, born without magic or special abilities. Considered useless by her family and people, she has spent her life being ignored, mocked, and treated with open disdain. Even her own parents show little concern for her well-being. Nymeria Valencia A 17-year-old assassin, known for her unmatched skills, deadly precision, and unwavering resolve. For years, she has thrived in the darkness, eliminating targets without hesitation. But now, she faces her greatest challenge yet-guarding a princess who seems incapable of defending herself. Thrown into a world of royal politics, betrayals, and hidden dangers, Nymeria must decide: Will she adapt to this new life and protect the princess at all costs, or will she abandon her mission and return to the only world she has ever known?

Homeless, broke, and out of options, Prim never expected her lowest night to lead to her most dangerous encounter. Thrown onto the streets after failing to pay rent, she stumbles upon a wounded man in the park-only to discover he's no ordinary man, but a vampire with blood-red eyes and sharp fangs. When he risks his life to protect her from a deadly attack, Prim finds herself caught between fear and fascination. He calls her strange for not running away. She calls him grumpy for refusing help. Neither of them realizes that this unlikely meeting will spark a bond strong enough to defy the fragile peace between humans and vampires-and change both their lives forever.

"Marry my daughter." I shifted my gaze from my glass of wine and stared at him in disbelief. Those were the last words I expected to hear from his mouth. I was no stranger to marriage proposals from my business associates. Many had tried to push their daughters toward me, hoping to gain something in return. And each time, I rejected them without hesitation. But this time was different. This was Lucas Angelo Ferrer-my fiercest rival in the business world. So why would he suddenly walk into my office with such a proposal? What was he really after?

I grinned widely as I revealed my winning cards, and my friends immediately voiced their complaints. "Sorry, guys. This one's mine!" I scooped up the bets from the table. "Come on, May-may! You always win!" "Are you cheating?" I flipped Fillan off for his comment. "You're just salty because you lost. Loser!" I taunted. "One more round, May!" Elmo challenged. "Nah, it's late," I said, glancing at my broken watch, which I only wore for style. "The dead aren't going anywhere! This place never closes anyway!" I glanced toward the house where our friend's coffin lay. Sam had been stabbed in the lung by his enemies. "You can help keep watch over Sam, too. It's tough staying up all night. Why don't you take his spot instead?" I smacked Elmo on the head. "How about I put you next to Sam instead?!" "Stay a little longer, May! Free snacks!" Fillan gestured toward the coffee and bread. I narrowed my eyes. They looked good. "Fine, I'll eat, then I'm leaving." "Stayyyy!" --- I ate the sandwich I took from Sam's wake as I walked through the dim alleyways toward home. "Out late again, May?" called out Tatay Gurong, drinking outside his house. "I was at Sam's." "That boyfriend of yours? Haven't seen him around lately." "He's dead," I replied casually, passing by. "Oh? What a waste." Hearing about deaths was normal here. A week without a killing was rare. This place was full of thugs, and honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if someone got murdered in front of me. I was confident no one could intimidate me here-until I saw the man standing in front of my rented room. I instantly looked for a hiding spot. My sandwich slipped from my hand as I ducked behind a nearby post. Just as I was about to peek, a dog barked at me. My eyes widened in horror-it had definitely caught the man's attention. "Shut up, Choco!" I hissed at the dog. "You know me, damn it!" "Maria Zia Salazar?" I shrieked in shock at the man's voice. "Is that you?" "Look, dude, I swear, even though I was Sam's girlfriend, I had nothing to do with his debts. I don't have any money!" I pleaded, pulling out my pockets, which were full of candy. The man, dressed in a tuxedo, looked at my pockets, then at me, confused. "Even if you kidnap me, you'll get nothing. So just don't, okay?" I begged. He cleared his throat and stood straight. "Ms. Maria Zia Salazar Alaister." I froze at the mention of my full name. "I'm here to take you." I raised an eyebrow and laughed. "You've got the wrong person, dude." I walked past him. Before I could reach my rented room, two men blocked my way. "This is a direct order from your father, Giovanni Alaister," the man behind me said. I glared at him and turned around. "And what if I refuse?" I challenged. "We will use force," he said, pointing a gun at me. I met his gaze, my expression darkening. What does Giovanni want with me this time?!

I woke up to loud knocking and someone repeatedly shouting my name. I was sure it was Aling Lourdes, the owner of this rental place. Aling Lourdes shouted, "I stood up and immediately opened the door for her." "Well, Maki, it seems like you're forgetting something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aling Lourdes, I don't have any money right now. Can I—" I couldn't finish my sentence because she interrupted. "If you can't pay, you should leave now. Nothing is free, and if you don't, I'll report you to the barangay," she said before leaving. I took a deep breath and decided to leave this place. •3 hours ago• I was outside Aling Lourdes' apartment, still thinking about where I should go when my phone suddenly rang. I answered it. "Hello?" "Maki? How are you, my child?" I couldn't respond when I heard my dad's voice. "What do you want?" I asked coldly. "Look at you, your attitude never changes," Dad said. "If you don't have anything good to say, I'll hang up now," I said irritably. "Maki, why don't you come live here so you can see how beautiful it is?" Dad suggested. "In your dreams," I started to say, but then I remembered I needed a place to stay. "Just send me the address," I said curtly and ended the call. My phone vibrated, and I saw the address he sent. I smirked a little and called a taxi. •Fast Forward• I was now in front of his mansion, and someone greeted me and told me to follow them. I stopped walking when I got inside. The place was huge and beautiful. I was startled when someone spoke behind me. "So, it's you?" the person said, looking angry. "M-me?" I stammered, pointing at myself. "Who else, stupid?" the person said before turning away. "HEY, YOU'RE SO ARROGANT! I'LL STRANGLE YOU!" I shouted, moving closer. "Sure, if you can, brat," the person said mockingly. I was about to hit him with my bag when someone laughed loudly.

"Sign the contract, or lose everything." I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King. My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction. Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love." He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end. I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his. But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective. Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything. They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn. With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.

I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister. I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood. My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family. "Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered. Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land. My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother? I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear. But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me. Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now."

For three years, Hilary played the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Julian Carlisle to save her family from financial ruin. But her husband didn't love her; he was busy throwing a birthday party for the five-year-old son he secretly had with his college sweetheart. To keep up appearances, Julian bought Hilary a million-dollar Cartier bracelet, but she soon discovered the exact same jewelry on his mistress's wrist. During a heated confrontation about his lies, Julian accused her of being a hysterical madwoman and violently shoved her away. But he didn't care that her head smashed against the sharp edge of a nightstand, causing a life-threatening cranial hemorrhage. So she was left bleeding and unconscious on the cold floor, while he simply sneered at her. "Stop pretending. I don't have time for these pathetic games." He walked out the door, leaving her alone to die. After a brush with death, her years of unrequited love and hope were completely gone, and she finally gave up. Waking up in the ICU, she calmly looked at Julian's terrified, regretful face and made her final decision. "Mr. Hayes, please deliver the signed divorce papers to my husband immediately."

For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company. On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project." Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy. He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left. He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish. He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent. Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering. She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool. He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity. She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute. Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him. Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years. "I'm ready. I want to come home." It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress.

I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins. My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door. But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday. Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract. The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing. If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case. "Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed." I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash. I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood. Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world. I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country. Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt.

I was the financial backbone of the Rust Hounds MC, keeping my patched-member husband, French, and his scrap-metal club afloat with my private wealth. But I returned to the clubhouse one afternoon only to find him half-naked on the sofa with my half-sister, Hettie. Instead of apologizing, he sneered and demanded I accept her. "The club needs legacy. Hettie can actually give me an heir, unlike a cold mechanic." When I immediately cut off their funding, his entire family turned into rabid dogs. They tried to physically seize my family's titanium mining deeds and leaked a security video of me being carried out of a dive bar by a "nameless drifter" to frame me for infidelity. Even my own father showed up to the club's tribunal to strip my surname, demanding I sign over my assets before they broke my legs and banished me. I had bled for this club and this family for years, only to be thrown to the wolves so they could steal my inheritance. They really thought I was just a disposable Old Lady they could humiliate, break, and cast aside into the dirt without consequence. What on earth gave them the confidence to think I would just roll over and die? They didn't know that the "filthy nobody" who saved me that night was Camden Diaz, the Apex President of the Iron Kings, the most feared outlaw empire in North America. And his heavily armed enforcers had just blown the doors off their little tribunal.