Olivia

My fiancé Jaret Frazier promised to protect me on my nineteenth birthday. By the next year, he had married a Mafia Princess for power and locked me in a hidden apartment as his secret mistress. When his new wife discovered I was pregnant, she didn't file for divorce. She sent her enforcers to my bedside. They held me down while a back-alley butcher tore my unborn son from my womb. Jaret never came to save me. For ten years, I rotted in that gilded cage, watching him use my money to become an Underboss while I faded into a ghost. I died alone, completely erased. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in my own bed, unscarred, the calendar turned back to the year my life was destroyed. Jaret was still just my fiancé, not yet my jailer. And this time, I wouldn't be the one who ended up in a cage.

On my wedding night, I made a vow to Liam Gallo, the most feared man in New York. "If you ever betray me," I whispered, "I will vanish from your life as if I never existed." He laughed, thinking it was a romantic promise. It was an oath. Three years later, I discovered his betrayal. It wasn't just an affair; it was a public humiliation. His mistress, Ava, sent me photos of herself in my places, wearing jewelry he'd given me, taunting me with her presence in my life. And Liam let her. The final blow came at our Hamptons estate. I saw them together, Liam and a triumphant, pregnant Ava, in front of his inner circle. He was choosing her, his pregnant mistress, over his injured wife, demanding I apologize for upsetting her. In my own home, I was an obstacle. In my own marriage, I was a prop. The love I clung to for years finally died. Ava's texts confirmed it all, including a picture of an ultrasound captioned "Our baby," and another of her wearing the necklace he named "Maya's Dawn." So, on the morning after our anniversary party, I enacted my plan. I liquidated my assets, bulldozed the garden he planted for me, and served him divorce papers. Then, with a new identity, I walked out of the service exit and disappeared into the city, leaving the man who broke his vows to the wreckage of the life he destroyed.

For five years, I hid my identity as a legendary White Wolf, swallowing suppressants that tasted like ash just to protect Alpha Grafton. I played the role of the spineless "Shadow," enduring his pack's ridicule and his cold indifference, all to fulfill a promise I made to his dead twin brother. But when I finally exposed my powers to save Grafton from a rigged car crash, shattering my leg with liquid silver in the process, he didn't thank me. Instead, he stepped over my bleeding body to comfort Cherrelle, a socialite who was faking a wrist injury. He believed her lies over my sacrifice. When I tried to warn him about the poison in his drink, he forced me to swallow the Wolfsbane myself. He watched me convulse on the floor, calling me a "drama queen." He even threw me into a dog kennel, crushing the only photo I had of his brother—the man I actually loved—under his boot. He thought I was a stalker obsessed with him. He didn't know I drank black coffee I hated every morning just to be in sync with him, or that the "jealousy" he saw was actually grief for the ghost of his twin. Broken and done, I stood on the edge of Blackwood Bridge and sent him one final text. "I'm going to be with the man I actually love." Then, I rejected him as my mate, severed the bond that linked our souls, and let the dark river wash away five years of lies.

For ten years, I lived in my guardian Ethan Hayes's home, loving him in secret. He was the sun I revolved around. Then, he announced his engagement, introducing the woman he loved as my future female guardian, and spent an entire year showing me I meant nothing to him. The night he came home drunk, he pulled me into his arms, murmuring another woman's name as his lips crashed down on mine. The next morning, his eyes filled with disgust as he accused me of climbing into his bed. "I never thought you would stoop this low," he said. His fiancée cornered me, calling me shameless and threatening to throw me onto the street. In that moment, a decade of devotion turned to ash. The love carved into my bones was finally scraped away. On the day of his birthday, I packed one small suitcase and walked out of the house that had been my prison. I left a final drawing on his desk with a simple note: "Goodbye, Ethan."

My marriage was perfect. I was pregnant with our first child, and my husband, Andre, worshipped the ground I walked on. Or so I thought. The dream shattered when he whispered another woman's name against my skin in the dark. It was Kaliyah, the young associate from my firm whom I had personally mentored. He swore it was a mistake, but his lies spiraled as Kaliyah's schemes grew more vicious. He drugged me, locked me in my studio, and caused a fall that sent me to the hospital. But his ultimate betrayal came after Kaliyah staged a fake car accident and blamed me. Andre dragged me out of my car by my hair and slapped me across the face. He then forced a nurse to take my blood for his mistress-a transfusion she didn't even need. He held me down as I began to hemorrhage, leaving me to die while he rushed to her side. He sacrificed our child, who now suffers from irreversible brain damage because of his choice. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a monster who left me for dead. Lying in that hospital bed, I made two calls. The first was to my lawyer. "Activate the infidelity clause in our prenup. I want him left with nothing." The second was to Jude Gates, the man who had loved me silently for ten years. "Jude," I said, my voice cold as ice. "I need your help to destroy my husband."

My life as a Dallas socialite seemed perfect, dwelling in a grand mansion built with old money and maintained by new. Then, my husband, Ryan Lester, walked through the door with a woman I' d never seen, Sabrina Chavez, announcing she was "staying with us for a while." Her feigned innocence turned sinister as she systematically drugged me, leading to a horrifying assault that was meticulously filmed. Ryan then used that video as his weapon, turning my home into a prison, stripping me of everything, and publicly humiliating me at my father' s charity ball by projecting the assault on giant screens for everyone to see. The world shattered as I collapsed, suffering a devastating miscarriage, left to wonder how my life could be so cruelly dismantled, and who was behind this orchestrated nightmare. But just as despair threatened to consume me, a familiar face from my past, Andrew Scott, stepped into the light, and with him, the promise of truth and a fight for my lost life.

I was Ava, a revered River Guardian, brimming with vibrant life. I found Marcus, a broken Stone Breaker, and poured my essence into saving him. I healed his wounds and shared my lineage's lore, empowering him to become the Apex he yearned to be. He swore eternal love. But my selfless devotion was repaid with chilling betrayal by his new partner, Chloe. They conspired, stripping me of influence and then, brutally, my life. I didn' t vanish; I died, murdered by their ambition. My Heart Spring dissolved, merging with my infant son Liam' s life current to save him. For ten agonizing years, I remained a helpless spirit, haunting my preserved body and watching Liam suffer. Gaunt and scarred, he bore Marcus's cruelty. Now Marcus, the cruel Apex, returned, demanding my Heart Spring for Chloe' s child. He taunted Liam, then bound him to a pyre, lighting the Breaker' s Fire. He aimed to force me, a spectral memory, to reveal myself or watch our son burn. How could the man I empowered, the father of our son, be capable of such chilling depravity? He sought to burn away the last vestige of my existence. But as unnatural flames licked Liam' s feet, a transformation began. His muted life current exploded into a radiant emerald glow. The true power of the Grove Heart I passed to him shimmered. Liam, no longer a wilting fern, but a powerful sapling, rose from the pyre unharmed. He stood ready to unveil all hidden truths and challenge the Apex who thought he had triumphed.

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.

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.

Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts. The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage. I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter. But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous. Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared. He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground. With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes. "Take me with you."

My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent. But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress. Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you." To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife. When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala. He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent. He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters. He thought he had broken me. He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage. But he made a fatal error. He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign. They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me. And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck. I didn't jump to die. I jumped to be reborn. And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin.

TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains physical harm, torture, explicit contents including- Dark themes, erotic sex scenes, non consensual situations. And mature topics including trauma, loss. While this is a romance story, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. - - - - - - - - - - - - "You're mine now," he breathed those words on my neck, his hands trailing down my body and stopping only to linger on my thighs. "I'm Axel Salvatore Rossi. And whatever I want- I get." * * * * * Bound to a man she barely knew, Olivia is confined to a world of games and organized crime. After her sister steals a priceless item, she's left to pay- with her existence being tied with the mafia lord, Axel. What starts as an unexpected encounter turns out to be something more. Passion ignites, past secrets are revealed, and an ex lover knocks at the door to interrupt a new beginning. Olivia must make a choice- play the game, or fight the players who play dirty...

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.

On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table. Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen. "Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over." I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward. Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant. She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest. As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me. He hugged her. "It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you." The betrayal didn't stop there. When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police. When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations. He declined the call. He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife. That was the moment the chain broke. As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come. I opened the door and jumped into the dark. Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement. Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one.

Penelope's life takes a brutal turn when her arranged marriage to Max Castillo is shattered. The night before their wedding, her step sister attacks her and kills her mother. Penelope survives the attack, but her face is left severely damaged. After undergoing surgery to restore her appearance, she vows revenge on everyone who wronged her, especially her stepsister, who not only killed her mother but also married Max, the man Penelope was meant to marry. Training under a dangerous crime boss, Penelope prepares to take down the Castillo family. She's given one task: kill the Castillo's Don in exchange for her revenge. To do that, she'll have to seduce Silvio Castillo, the ruthless Mafia Don, and use him to destroy the family from the inside. But as she gets closer to Silvio, she starts to feel something she never expected: real attraction. Now, as she faces the consequences of her plan, Penelope must decide what's more important, revenge, or the man she's falling for. Will he forgive her for trying to kill him? Will a quest for revenge destroy their love?

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention. He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor. I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don. "The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly. An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion. He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement. For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple. "Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her." As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman. Then, the steel door detonated. Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.