Adelheid Rufo
12 Published Stories
Adelheid Rufo's Books and Stories
Healed By Another: Rejecting The Ruthless Don
Mafia I spent a year in a Swiss asylum, swallowing pills to cure a madness that didn’t exist.
It turned out the medication was just sugar.
My insanity was a script written by Jaxon Francis, the Don of New York, just so he could marry a Cartel princess without his ward getting in the way.
When I finally escaped and tried to leave him, his new wife staged her own kidnapping and framed me.
Jaxon didn’t ask for proof. He didn’t look at the evidence.
Instead, he tied a rope around my ankles and dragged me behind a helicopter across the jagged rocks of the Wastelands.
He held his wife close and watched as my skin was flayed and my bones shattered, believing he was executing a traitor.
He left me for dead in the dirt, convinced he had cleansed his empire.
I took the hush money his mother threw at me and vanished, letting Alina Phillips die in that field.
Three years later, I returned to New York as "Echo," the elusive artist the world was obsessing over.
At a charity auction, Jaxon bid one hundred million dollars for a painting of a woman’s scarred back, desperate to buy redemption for the ghost he thought he killed.
He chased me into the rain, begging for a second chance, swearing he had destroyed his wife for me.
I looked at the man who once held my heart and simply smiled.
Then I turned to the man standing beside me.
"Jaxon, meet Darwin," I said, linking my arm through his.
"My husband." The Lie My Fiancé Created
Horror For three years, I believed my fiancé, Daryl, was my savior. He rescued me after a brutal attack-secretly orchestrated by my own sister, Kenisha-shattered my hands and my dreams of being a concert pianist. He gave me a perfect, protected life.
Then I discovered the truth on his laptop. I wasn't his beloved; I was "Asset: FB-01." A walking collection of prime organs, being groomed until my sister needed a new heart. My heart.
The man I loved became a monster. He forced me to take five pregnancy tests, snarling that he'd "get that thing out" of me himself if I compromised his investment. He locked me in the trunk of his car and later abandoned me on a collapsing rope bridge.
To finally break me, he drowned the stray kitten I'd rescued in the washing machine. "You hurt my Kenisha," he roared. "Now you'll know what it feels like to lose something you care about."
My entire life with him had been a lie. I was just livestock being fattened for slaughter, and my hands-the ones he once called magic-were just a "non-essential component."
After he drained my blood for the sister who wanted me dead, I went home and buried my cat. Then I packed a single bag, booked a flight to London, and vanished. They had created a monster. Now, they were about to meet her. The Rejected Healer: Her Rise as the White Wolf
Werewolf I carried a thermal container of stew to my fiancé's private estate, worried he was stressed about our upcoming pack merger.
Instead of a meditation retreat, I walked into a nightmare.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Ivan playing on the rug with a secret son, while a woman named Kiera watched like a queen.
I froze as I heard Ivan's voice float through the glass.
"Aliana is just a placeholder. She smells like antiseptic and fear. Once I get the territory, I'll reject her."
My heart shattered, but the knife twisted deeper when he laughed about my parents.
"Her folks pay for this villa, Kiera. They know. They prefer a strong alliance over a disappointment of a daughter."
My own parents were drugging me to steal my medical patents. They thought I was weak. They thought I was just a submissive Healer.
I wiped my tears and unlocked his safe with the admin codes he forgot I installed.
I took the financial records, the fake DNA tests, and the theft agreements.
That night, at his secret son's birthday party, I didn't bring a gift.
I brought a projector.
I played their confession for the entire Council, severed the mate bond publicly, and vanished into the North.
Six months later, a ruined, homeless Ivan crawled into my clinic, begging for the legendary White Wolf to save him.
He looked up, shocked to see me standing there, glowing with silver power.
"You rejected the gift of the Goddess," I smiled, letting my Alpha aura crush him to the floor. "Now, get out." The Framed Heiress's Unyielding Comeback
Romance For ten years, I was my family' s living scandal. After being framed for a crime that nearly destroyed our company, I was cast as the pariah, forced to serve the very people who had stolen my future.
At my parents' 40th anniversary party, the humiliation reached its peak. My brother, the CEO who built his career on my ruin, stood at the podium.
"Can you not do one simple thing without creating a disaster?" he hissed at me in front of everyone. "For one night, can you just try not to be a complete and utter liability?"
His fiancée, the true architect of my downfall, watched with a triumphant smirk. My mother looked on in horror-not at his cruelty, but at the scene I was causing. My father simply turned away in disappointment.
They had all chosen their sides long ago, and I was not on it.
After a decade of absorbing their contempt for a crime I didn't commit, something inside me finally snapped. The guilt, the shame, the silence-it was all a lie I was no longer willing to live.
But I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I calmly walked out of that ballroom, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I found online.
A gravelly voice answered. "Mccormick."
"My name is Charlotte Gallegos," I said, my voice clearer and stronger than it had been in years. "I need to hire you." Obey the Monster, But Let's Revenge
Romance My family was crumbling, clinging to the last vestiges of a once-great name.
My upcoming marriage to Ethan was supposed to save us, his new money cushioning our fall.
But rumors painted Julian Thorne, a reclusive tech billionaire, as a monster who ruined women, and his people chose my beautiful half-sister, Hailey, as his next "companion."
Then Ethan, my fiancé, panicked, pulling me into a desperate elopement.
In a cheap motel room, he revealed his true plan: I was to pretend we'd been secretly married before Hailey's selection.
He needed me as a convenient shield, a deniable wife, so he could keep Hailey, and her potential connection to Thorne, on a string.
My stomach churned; this wasn't love, it was a transaction.
Back home, my family, desperate to "save" Hailey, demanded I support Ethan's lie, threatening to cut off funding for my cherished art project.
They called me "strong" when they wanted me to bear their burdens, to be a doormat.
The disgust was a bitter taste in my mouth, realizing I was just a pawn in their cruel, self-serving games.
Why was I always the one sacrificed, always the "strong" one meant to suffer in silence?
The thought of living Ethan' s fabricated life, a life of quiet humiliation and deceit, suddenly felt infinitely worse than facing any rumored monster.
A cold fury rose in me, sharp and clean.
I would not be their pawn, their disposable currency.
Looking my father dead in the eye, I declared, "If Hailey is too delicate for Mr. Thorne, then I will go in her place."
I' d rather face a monster with my eyes open than be a fool' s secret. Sold To The Monster: My Silent Nightmare
Modern I’ve spent eighteen hundred days as a silent ghost in the Crawford estate, a place where the air smells of expensive cigars and terror. My father, Senator Jed Bowen, sold me to Alek Crawford to pay off his gambling debts, trading his daughter’s life for a seat in the Senate.
Alek doesn’t just want my service; he wants my complete submission. He tracks my every move through cameras and bruises my skin just to see if I’ll flinch. He thinks he owns me because he holds the contract, and his mother ensures I’m kept in my place with slaps and insults.
When a scandal involving my half-sister and Alek’s brother hit the news, the house turned into a war zone. Alek cornered me in the dark, his hands stained with blood and ink, whispering that I was nothing but a receipt for his family's money. He’s been forcing me to take pills for years, believing they’ve kept me drugged and mute.
"She needs to speak again," he told a surgeon over the phone. "Whatever it takes."
He thinks he’s fixing a broken toy, but he’s actually planning to carve the silence into my throat permanently. He has no idea that I’ve been switching those pills for years, or that I’m more awake and more dangerous than he could ever imagine.
I’ve endured the biting cold and the crushing weight of his obsession, waiting for a single sign that my nightmare could end. Tonight, a secret message reached me in the rain, confirming that the only man I ever loved has finally finished his mission.
Kole is coming back for me.
The contract review is tomorrow, but I’m not planning on signing anything. I’m planning on taking back everything they stole from me, starting with my voice. His Healing, Her Vengeful Lie
Fantasy The numb cold started in my fingertips, creeping inward.
I watched Chloe, my wife, her face a mask of impatient fury in the dim tent light.
Outside, a blizzard howled, the soundtrack to my dying.
My miraculous blood, the blood that could heal, drained from my arm, a crimson offering for a dead man.
"More," Chloe demanded, her voice sharp. "It' s not enough. You have to bring him back."
Her childhood sweetheart, Jake Miller, lay frozen nearby, a corpse.
"Chloe, it doesn' t work like this," I rasped, my vision blurring. "I can heal injuries. I can' t raise the dead."
"Liar!" she shrieked, her grief a twisted venom. "You can heal anything! You won' t save him because you' re jealous! It' s your fault he went up that mountain! If you hadn' t forced me to marry you, he' d still be alive!"
The accusation was a sick joke.
I had healed her to repay a debt, a lie used to trap me.
I wasn' t a god, just a medical prodigy.
As my lifeblood pooled, the world faded to black, her hateful face my last sight.
Then, bright, sterile light.
I gasped, eyes flying open in a pristine hospital room.
My hands were whole, warm.
Mrs. Davis, Chloe' s mother, stood by the window, worried but hopeful.
This was the day it all began, the day they begged me to heal their daughter.
I remembered my profound sense of duty, repaying a girl I believed saved me.
That single selfless act led to a year of loveless marriage, resentment, and my own murder.
"Dr. Hayes," Mrs. Davis said, trembling. "We' ve heard about your… gift. They say you can perform miracles."
She stepped forward, hands clasped.
"My daughter, Chloe… she' ll never walk again. But we believe… you can save her. Please, we' ll give you anything."
But my gaze was cold.
I saw the contempt, the venom of my past in her desperate eyes.
I had been a fool.
A naive, sacrificial lamb.
Not again. The Butterfly Effect of Ava
Romance The afternoon sun warmed my art studio, a sanctuary I' d built for myself, far from my chaotic family.
Life was good, my canvas humming with color, ready for final touches.
Then, the phone rang, a cold dread seizing me as Leo' s name flashed across the screen.
He demanded money, as always, his voice a familiar, entitled growl.
Our conversation was sharp, escalating quickly, ending with his chilling threat: "I'm outside your building. Come down here right now, or I'm coming up." A cold fear snaked down my spine; this was my sanctuary, not his to invade.
He was waiting, his face thin and angry. When I refused him, he sneered, calling me "little miss perfect artist," shoving me. I stumbled, caught off balance, and then he shoved me again, harder.
I fell backward, right into the street. Everything happened at once: the screech of tires, a blaring horn, blinding headlights.
A massive force slammed into me, pain exploding through every nerve. Then, only darkness.
I died. But then I opened my eyes. Confined to a tiny, unfamiliar body, in my old childhood bedroom, the calendar on the wall screamed 2007.
I was seven years old again.
It wasn't a dream. It was a second chance. A chance to change everything. A chance to stop Leo from becoming the monster who would one day cause my death. Rewriting Her Destiny
Romance My life as Senator King' s cherished daughter was a meticulously crafted dream.
My future seemed certain: marrying my devoted fiancé, Beau Carter, with my closest 'companion,' Daisy Mae, always by my side.
But behind velvet curtains, a venomous plot brewed.
My brother, Randy, consumed by petty jealousy, and Beau, blinded by ambition, fell under Daisy's insidious, manipulative spell.
Their true, ugly intentions burst forth.
They orchestrated my ruin, a horrifying act of "revenge."
I was cast out, forcibly married to a brutal criminal, stripped of family, fortune, and hope.
Trapped, I endured relentless abuse until I finally died, alone and utterly broken, in a desolate, forgotten place.
In my agony, the truth, sharp as a blade, shattered my illusions.
Randy and Beau, my own flesh and supposed love, engineered my downfall, all for her – for Daisy, the viper I foolishly called 'friend.'
The unfathomable betrayal burned hotter than any physical pain.
How could they?
Why her?
But destiny wasn't done.
My eyes snapped open, a gasp catching, back in my childhood bed, morning sun streaming.
Every horrifying memory of my agonizing future was brutally fresh.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
This time, the Kings would have their vengeance.
The game has already begun. Ranchland Refuge: Where Love Grows
Romance The recurring nightmare was a constant torment, a horrifying glimpse into my future.
Every night, I watched myself trapped, broken, married to Ethan Vanderbilt, his cruel eyes and chilling smile haunting my sleep as Brittany Miller, his manipulative girlfriend, whispered poison in his ear.
But this time, it hit differently.
I jolted awake, heart hammering, but the terror wasn't just residual dream-fear.
The details were sharper, the pain more intense.
It wasn't just a bad dream; it felt like a memory, a terrifying premonition burned into my soul, a stark warning of the life awaiting me as Mrs. Ethan Vanderbilt.
My familiar East Coast bedroom did nothing to calm the dread.
My engagement, meticulously planned by our influential families and celebrated by society, was no longer a gilded cage – it was a death sentence.
I couldn't breathe. I saw my very spirit withering in a silent, opulent prison, completely at his mercy.
How could my aunt, bound by her powerful Senator husband and their family alliances, only see an "advantageous match" when I saw a monster?
They feared the scandal of breaking the engagement; I feared losing my entire self.
"What's more important?" I choked, "His career, or my life? Because I' m telling you, marrying Ethan will destroy me."
The fear was a cold knot in my stomach, but a desperate, burning resolve ignited.
I couldn't accept this fate. I had relived my end, and I refused to walk that path again.
Looking at my pale, haunted reflection, I whispered, "No. I won't let him. I'll change it."
My desperate fight for freedom began at that very moment. My Fiancée Tried To Steal My Fortune
Modern Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding.
Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us.
But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup.
Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David.
They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money."
Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support."
Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud.
My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread.
How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty?
Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them?
The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw.
I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine.
But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core.
They had no idea who they were really dealing with. Living In The Haunted House
Fantasy Because I was greedy for a cheap place to live, I moved into a haunted house. The old beggar downstairs warned me in terror, "Miss, this house is haunted, you can't live here!" I smiled and reassured him, "It's okay, I'm even poorer than the ghosts, so if I move in, I'll be the one causing trouble." He didn't know that I've been able to see ghosts since I was young, and just last night, I stayed up late giving psychological counseling to a ghost. You might like
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit 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. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler 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. His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit 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.
Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Fonz Nadherny I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. Too Late, Mr. Don: The Wife You Buried
Cinderella's Sister I went to the family lawyer for a routine travel clearance. Instead, I was handed a divorce decree. The ink was three years old.
While I had been playing the role of the dutiful Capo's wife, Dante had secretly divorced me the day after our fifth anniversary.
Twenty-four hours later, he legally married the nanny, Gia, and named her cruel-eyed son as his heir.
I returned home to confront him, only for the boy to throw boiling tomato soup on me.
Dante didn't check my burns. He cradled the boy and looked at me with pure, drug-fueled hatred, calling me a monster for upsetting his "son."
The final blow came in a parking garage. A car sped toward us.
Dante didn't pull me to safety. He shoved me into the vehicle's path, using my body as a human shield to protect his mistress.
Lying broken on the asphalt, I realized Aria Vitiello was already dead to him. So, I decided to make it official.
I arranged a private flight over the Atlantic and ensured there were no survivors.
By the time Dante was weeping over the wreckage, realizing too late that he had been poisoned against me, I was already in France.
The Canary was dead. The Reaper had risen. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade 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." Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." 
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