Mirry

*Seventeen years ago* Mr Daniel Pablo, head of the famous and most powerful gang in all of New York, my father. He owned and controlled one of the biggest mob in Brooklyn. It was evening, he sat regally on his lush couch, smoking from his pipe, releasing thick smoke into the atmosphere, not minding that I was there with him, and I was only a ten year old boy. I raised my head, watching him keenly as he sucked in air and slowly breathed out thick white smoke, staring into space, one would tell he was lost in his thoughts. "Honey!" Mom cat walked into the lounge, wearing a red tight dress with a pair of high heeled shoes which clanged the marbled floor as she moved. "My love" dad moved the pipe and kissed her on her lips, staining his lips with her thick red lipstick. Of course, even an animal would tell that they were deeply in love with each other. "Garry is coming tomorrow.... for a business meeting" he placed the pipe at his side stool and made my mom sit on his laps. "Oh really?.... it's been a long time" she smiled, snuggling closer to him getting into his mouth, forgetting that I was there. Mom's eyes moved and her gaze landed on my eyes, I then looked away, continuing with the book I had in my hands. "Mario my son... It's time for bed, let's go" she walked over and took the book from me. "Let's go sweet" she said, I got up and moved. "It's already late" she added, walking with me till we got to the stairs. "Yvonne!.... Come take Mario to his room, it's time for bed" She called the maid servant. Of course, she never puts me to bed by herself, she was always busy. "Alright Mario.... Let's go" the lady reached out and took hold of my hand. " Don't! " I half yelled with my little voice as I withdrew my hand. Lady Yvonne, the new caretaker was startled as she let go of me, her face all scrunched up in surprise. "Oh, He doesn't like people touching him" Mom said from where she was, probably tangling her tongue with dad's. "Oh I'm sorry dear let's go" lady Yvonne led me upstairs to bed. ★The next day★ "Sir Pablo!, So good to see you" Mr Garry smiled as he fist bumped dad's gloved hand. Dad's hands were always gloved with knuckle gloves which covered half his fingers and his palms. Seeing him, you would think he was about to fight someone but no, it was just a normal accessory he fancied. "Garry, Have a seat" they both sat and started talking. Meanwhile mom and Garry's wife Mrs Monika had long been engaged in their feminine discussion as they talked and laughed. My gaze traveled and rested on Racheal their daughter who by right was supposed to be my friend but thanks to me, we weren't friends, because I didn't like having friends. "Mario honey, Go play with Racheal" Aunt Monika said, all smiles. I stared at her for some time with my usual unsmiling and stoic face. "What do you take me for ma'am? Playing is for kids, I'm not a small child" I said with an irritated expression and moved my gaze over to Racheal who sat on the marbled floor, playing and talking to herself. I could sense that Mrs Monika was shocked and felt a bit disrespected because I sounded that way. "My goodness!... Mario honey!" Mom released one of her fake laughs trying to cover up my actions, I just stared at her not bothered at all. "How about you be nice and show her to the library" mom smiled at me, there was an underlying meaning to her smile which only I understood, she always did it whenever she was trying to warn me. "Racheal dear, go with Mario to the library" Mom smiled brightly at the little girl. "Okay" she got up from the ground and skipped down to me, she made an attempt to touch me but I moved back, sending a glare her way. "Don't touch me" I hissed as I climbed the stairs, Racheal following slowly behind me. "Hahaha.... don't mind him Monika, kids can really be a handful at times" That was my mom, still trying to cover up. ★present ★ "I do not understand you Mario, is it that you are not man enough or your dick is paralysed?" Dad asked me looking pissed. " Father I..." I didn't even know what to say because the one who should be pissed was me, not even dad. " Or are you gay!?, Tell me Mario, why you have decided to die single!, you go about fucking your fellow men huh?, you chase after dicks? " " Dad!, I'm not gay!, Okay?, .... Just let me be" I looked away. " Then why have you refused to get married?, Racheal is there, and she won't remain single for ever, look at me" he spread his arms proudly. " Look at me, I'm a real man, and I proved it by getting married to your mother and having you, why do you want this legacy to end in your hands, son?, your mother and I are getting old" " Dad enough with that shit, I do not love Racheal or any other female out there!, I cannot love any female dad!, is it so hard for you to understand!?" "Shut up!" Dad swung his hand and hit me hard on my face. " Don't talk to me that way, I'm your father" My face stung really badly, my

The elegant penthouse office on the top floor of Reed Enterprises was shrouded in silence as Alexander Reed, the enigmatic CEO, leaned back in his leather chair. His piercing blue eyes surveyed the vast cityscape outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, his mind consumed by the impending crisis that threatened to dismantle his empire. His father, the late Charles Reed, had always been a man of mystery. Even in death, he managed to leave behind a legacy of secrets. Alexander's hands clenched into fists as he replayed the lawyer's words in his mind. According to his father's will, his inheritance and control over Reed Enterprises were contingent upon one condition—a contract marriage within a month. Alexander scoffed at the absurdity of it all. How could his father bind his entire life's work to such a stipulation? But as he pondered his options, one person came to mind—Emma Davis, his loyal and unassuming secretary. Emma, with her soft-spoken nature and unwavering dedication, had always been a constant presence in his life. She was the one person who had managed to see glimpses of the man behind the carefully constructed facade. Alexander knew that convincing her to enter into a contract marriage would be no easy task, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

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.

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."

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."

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 woke up married to a stranger. Not just any stranger. Garrick Sinclair-the cold, ruthless captain of the Chicago Mustangs, the man every woman in Chicago dreamed of and every sensible woman stayed away from. I didn't remember marrying him. I didn't even remember sleeping with him. Yet there was a diamond ring on my finger, a marriage certificate beside the bed, and Garrick looking at me like I was nothing more than another gold digger trying to get her hands on his money. He offered me cash to disappear. I wanted nothing from him except the truth. But then his adoptive father died, leaving behind a shocking condition for Garrick's inheritance: He had to be married. Suddenly, the marriage neither of us remembered became the only thing protecting his family's billion-dollar empire. Then my mother was murdered. I came home to find her dead among the roses she loved, only to wake up in a police station as the prime suspect. My home was a crime scene. My mother was gone. And I had nowhere left to turn. Except the husband who had once wanted me gone. Garrick got me out of jail and pulled me into his world. But the closer we became, the stranger everything felt. Whenever he touched me, he remembered things he had forgotten. A locked room. A terrified little boy. A girl in a pink dress. And a promise made in the dark. I thought my marriage to Garrick was the worst mistake of my life. Now I'm starting to wonder if it was the one thing that was never a mistake at all. Because I may not be a stranger to Garrick Sinclair. I may be the missing piece of his darkest memory. And someone has already killed once to make sure we never remember the truth.

I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce. Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence. When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway. They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher. "And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop." The revelation chilled me to the bone. My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault. It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted. I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city. One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged. But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man. It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage.

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family. But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her. She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return. Until now. Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything. She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding. What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him?

Two years ago, a tragic accident shattered two families. Emma was behind the wheel the day fate upended Damien's world. She lost her parents; he lost his wife. And little Luca, Damien's son, lost something irreplaceable: his voice. Since that fateful day, Damien had built a fortress of cold indifference, vowing to never forgive the people he held responsible. What he didn't anticipate was that fate would place one of them directly under his roof. Driven by desperation to save her sister, who was gravely ill, Emma was forced to accept an exploitative employment contract. As Luca's nanny, she must live in the mansion of the man who had every reason to despise her. What began as a contract signed under duress quickly morphed into a dangerous web. Damien desired Emma with an intensity that defied reason, unaware that she was the cause of the past tragedy. And when the truth came to light, Damien must make a choice: cling to the hatred that fueled him... or accept that love might rise from the ruins of devastation.

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.