In a strive for a lady in her late twenties to find her "perfect match", Emily is faced with a centrifugal tendency of her being mated with an alpha against her will . Emily deciding not to battle "fate", gave in to the desires of the Iqbal
In a strive for a lady in her late twenties to find her "perfect match", Emily is faced with a centrifugal tendency of her being mated with an alpha against her will . Emily deciding not to battle "fate", gave in to the desires of the Iqbal
"I want to see you at the spyflower hotel, this afternoon. Don't delay, if you don't want to provoke me!"
That was the content of the messages that just buzzed Emily's phone one sunny afternoon. She looked at it and sighed. It wasn't the first time she had gotten such a message. They do come before and she blocks them, but each time she blocks the sender, he switches to another line. She changed her number once because of this, but the messages kept coming to her new line as well, bothering the tranquil life of Emily Hart.
The next day, she went out with her friends to drink and while they chatted, she got another message.
"You disobeyed me yesterday and I spared you. Now I want you to come stand up from that chair and dance for me."
She was terrified at this new message. There were a lot of people in the bar with their friends. She wondered if this was a prank from a person who knew her.
The song playing in the bar suddenly changed to Emily's best song and immediately, another message came in.
"Dance to it! It is your favourite. I'm watching!"
Emily turned around to see if there was any suspicious looking person around, but it was just her and her friends.
"What's it Emily? You look troubled," Augusta inquired. Augusta was a model too and often hung out with Emily.
"There's nothing wrong. I just thought I saw someone I knew," Emily lied.
She wanted to reply the message and warn the sender to stop, but her phone showed her that the sender doesn't support replies. She sighed and put her phone back.
Emily's friends stood up for a dance and Emily stayed back on her seat, with her mind made up to not dance to her favourite song that day.
As her friends danced, she sat back on her chair and thought deeply. A waiter came across and asked if she needed wine. She didn't reply, but gave the waiter a glass instead and the waiter filled it up.
Emily drank from the cup and within three minutes, started feeling dizzy. She looked around and it felt like everything was twirling and she could barely stay balanced. She felt like she was going to fall off from the chair she sat.
A last message came to her phone, but her head wasn't clear to read it. She decided to close her eyes and wait for the dizziness to ease out.
The next moment she opened her eyes, she found herself in a room, with her hands tied to a bed.
Her trouser had been to taken off and her and her legs wide spread and held by some masculine arm.
A man was on the bed with her, sniffing in between her legs. She shrieked and kicked at him. It was almost like she had kicked a bolder that wouldn't bulge.
"Get off me!" Emily yelled.
He ignored her, his face still buried in between her legs, sniffing up close to under her pants.
"Get off me!" Emily yelled again.
Finally, the man raised his head and she saw his face. His eyes were red and fierce looking, but there was a smile on his face. His canine were twice longer and sharper than a dog's.
With that smile, he said to her, "the smell that I have been waiting for. My unsullied mate!"
My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.
Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.
"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Then his ex returned. And without hesitation, David cast Lily aside like she meant nothing. So she did what she should have done years ago. She signed the divorce papers. She walked away. But now, David couldn't escape her absence. Her silence burned him in ways Marina never could. And suddenly, the man who swore he'd never love her was determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.
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.
Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.
"You need a bride, I need a groom. Why don't we get married?" Both abandoned at the altar, Elyse decided to tie the knot with the disabled stranger from the venue next door. Pitying his state, she vowed to spoil him once they were married. Little did she know that he was actually a powerful tycoon. Jayden thought Elyse only married him for his money, and planned to divorce her when she was no longer of use to him. But after becoming her husband, he was faced with a new dilemma. "She keeps asking for a divorce, but I don't want that! What should I do?"
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