Bone Possolo
12 Published Stories
Bone Possolo's Books and Stories
The Enforcer's Jilted Princess
Mafia Tomorrow was my wedding day to Jason Brennan, the heir to a powerful Mafia family.
My family, the Falcones, had even taken in an orphaned girl, Elena, treating her like my own sister.
But in my nightmare of a past life, I choked on my own blood, poisoned by the arsenic Elena slipped into my food every day.
As I lay agonizingly close to death, Jason stood over me with a cold laugh, holding Elena in his arms.
"We just needed the Falcone wealth, Bella. And the docks."
Then came the gunfire. I was forced to watch them slaughter my father and my brother, tearing my family out by the roots.
After my death, Elena even spread vicious rumors that I was a barren spinster, twisting their foul betrayal into a tragic tale of noble sacrifice to completely destroy my legacy.
The metallic tang of my own blood was so real I could still taste the ash.
I didn't understand why the girl my family sheltered for eight years would repay our charity with such venom.
And I understood even less how the man who swore to love me could orchestrate my brutal murder without a shred of hesitation.
Bolting upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, I realized I had returned to the night before my wedding.
This time, I wouldn't just cancel the engagement. I would hand their treason directly to the Mafia's most terrifying Enforcer, and watch them burn. Reborn, I Wed the Untamed Playboy
Mafia On my wedding day to Julian Moretti, the future Mafia Don, I was deliberately sent to the wrong penthouse.
My half-sister Sofia had crawled into my fiancé's bed, leaving me to be discovered by the family's exiled, alcoholic cousin.
In my past life, I was shattered by this orchestrated betrayal. I cried and begged when Julian publicly humiliated me, choosing his illegitimate mistress over his rightful bride.
I played the perfect, dignified Mafia wife for years. I swallowed his insults, ignored his infidelities, and accepted my ruined reputation to keep the peace.
But my blind obedience only paved the way for my murder. Julian discarded me, and I was poisoned to death so Sofia could steal my crown as the Mafia Queen.
Until my agonizing last breath, I didn't understand. I had honored our families' blood alliance flawlessly.
Why was I the sacrificial lamb while they were rewarded for their treason?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the dark leather sofa, suffocating in my heavy silk wedding dress.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener, marched straight into the Don's main study, and slapped the Underboss across the face in front of the entire family.
"A Valdez woman does not share her husband," I declared coldly. "To honor the alliance, I will marry Dante."
If they wanted to make my humiliation a fact, I was going to make it a funeral. Lost My Savior, Found His Pain
Modern For years, I believed my unique blood was a gift to save the man I loved.
Now, he saw it as a poison.
At the urging of his venomous new lover, Kim, he believed I was a family enemy trying to destroy him.
He subjected me to endless torture, draining my life force to treat Kim' s fake pregnancy. Each extraction, which he saw as me faking my pain, was actually pushing my body toward total collapse.
I endured it all for one reason: to protect my innocent brother, Benny. But how could the man whose life I'd secretly preserved be so blind to the truth?
When they captured Benny and threatened his life, I offered my final sacrifice. I gave Cliffton my entire remaining life force, dissolving into light before his very eyes.
And in that instant, as his cured parents appeared to reveal every lie, he finally understood: he had just murdered his own salvation. The Betrayal That Freed Her
Romance My engagement to Ethan Hayes was a decade-long silent contract, a symbol of a love I held with quiet desperation, though his light never truly shone on me.
Then Chloe Davis appeared, all sweetness and light, and Ethan, who' d been indifferent to me, fell completely for her. In my first life, that look drove me mad, leading me to uncover Chloe' s dark secret: she was the daughter of the man who ruined Ethan' s family, driving his parents to suicide.
My attempt to save him backfired catastrophically. During a heated confrontation, Chloe pushed Ethan's uncle, David Hayes, who died instantly. Ethan walked in, seeing only me standing over the body with a terrified Chloe pointing a trembling finger. He refused to listen, convinced I was a jealous fiancée eliminating a rival.
I was wrongly imprisoned for his uncle' s death, dying alone and forgotten, while Ethan and Chloe' s twisted tragedy bound them together in a life I couldn't share. All my love, my loyalty, my sacrifices, meant nothing.
But then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the university library, a full year before the tragedy unfolded. My past life was a finished story, but this was my second chance. I swore a cold, hard resolve: I would not interfere. I would not save him. I would watch their great love story play out to its inevitable, disastrous end. My first act? Terminating our engagement. Betrayed By Love, Reborn In Vengeance
Modern The biting cold was the last thing I felt, a numbing seeping into my bones as I lay dying in our remote mountain cabin.
My husband, Mark, had left me here to freeze and starve, locking the door and cutting the phone line, his eyes devoid of any love.
He did it for my groundbreaking eco-city designs, which he planned to steal and present as his own, aided by my own sister, Chloe.
I had confronted them, screaming and crying, showing them the printed evidence of their betrayal, but Mark merely looked at me with terrifying calmness.
"You can't prove anything, Ava," he' d said, "It's your word against mine. And Chloe's."
Then, like a fool clinging to the last sliver of hope, I had agreed to his suggestion of a trip to the cabin to "talk things out."
The same cabin where he' d previously dismissed our miscarriage as "bad timing," letting our baby die for his ambition and covering his tracks with Chloe's scent.
Now, shivering under a flimsy blanket, my fingers numb, all I could think of was the hidden hard drive containing irrefutable proof of their treachery.
But what good was it? I was about to be just another tragic story, while they would have everything.
Then, a sudden, violent jolt. My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in the cabin. The air was warm, stuffy, and smelled of stale coffee.
I was at my desk at the firm. It was two weeks before the confrontation, before the blizzard, before my death.
Impossible. A dream? A hallucination? Yet, it was undeniably real.
A miracle. I was back. And this time, there would be no foolish hope. No direct confrontation.
A slow, cold smile spread across my face. Mark and Chloe thought they could destroy me.
They were about to find out how wrong they were. This time, I' d be setting the trap. This was for revenge. The Wife Who Destroyed Me
Modern The cold concrete walls of the visitor' s room blurred. My wife, Sarah, sat opposite me, her eyes burning with contempt, dressed in a sharp business suit.
"Ethan, that data-exfiltration device was clearly planted by you," her voice, a venomous echo, replayed. "You were just jealous of Alex and wanted him dead! I truly regret leaving Alex for a simpleton like you; you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to him!"
That was the last time I saw her before the life sentence. Before everything went black. The betrayal was so fresh, it felt like it happened only a second ago.
Alex Thornton, her charismatic tech mogul mentor, gifted her a sleek, black smart ring. As an FBI agent, I recognized it immediately: a sophisticated data-exfiltration device. I tried to warn her, even reported it to the Bureau, cushioning the blow to protect her, sacrificing my own promotion. It was a fatal mistake.
Alex died in a suspicious car accident as the FBI closed in. My grieving, loving Sarah then wove a web of digital lies, leaking classified intel and manipulating logs, pointing every piece of evidence directly at me. The jealous, jilted husband. The perfect story.
Then, a jarring, insistent beeping cut through the darkness of my prison cell memory.
I gasped, my eyes flying open. I wasn' t in a cell. I was in my own bed. My alarm clock. 7:00 AM. My heart hammered. Sarah was still asleep. On her nightstand, gleaming, was the smart ring. It was today. The day it all began.
A cold dread washed over me, followed by something hot and sharp: a second chance. The humiliation, the cold slap of betrayal, her mocking words. My colleagues' faces, pity mixed with confusion, as they cuffed me. I had sacrificed everything for a woman who saw me as a simpleton.
The love I felt for her was now a black hole. In the quiet of the morning, with the woman who would destroy me sleeping peacefully beside me, I made a new vow. Not of love, or loyalty, but of self-preservation. And justice. Ava's Silent Revolution
Romance My ex-best friend, Chloe, just waltzed back into my life, smooth as honey with a hidden sharp edge, and immediately made herself at home.
She ran her perfectly manicured finger over my prized possessions, claiming credit for my life' s work, Harmony, the AI wellness companion I poured my soul into.
My boyfriend, Liam, my partner of seven years, stood right by her side, smiling his easy smile, letting her spin her lies and seduce him right in front of my eyes.
He didn't see the manipulation, the insidious way she tried to erase my achievements and claim them as her own, because with Chloe, he never did.
He even defended her when our son, Leo, in his innocent honesty, exposed Chloe for stealing my presentation and called her a "mean witch."
Liam chose her, the manipulative liar, over me and our child, sending us away so she wouldn't be "upset."
My heart shattered as I saw her Instagram post – Liam at a dimly lit bar, his arm around her, the caption mocking me: "#RealConnection #Finally."
The betrayal was a physical blow, a complete and utter dismantling of my world.
But Chloe and Liam just pushed me to the brink, because in that moment of absolute despair, my dormant "Influence Algorithm"-a system I built to subtly sway public opinion-began to hum to life.
And I knew, with chilling certainty, that I wouldn' t just survive; I would be ready to fight back. From Puppet Daughter to Powerhouse
Young Adult My freshman year at Green Mountain College was supposed to be about freedom.
But my mom, Susan, had other plans for her only daughter.
She turned my dorm room into a high-tech prison, monitoring every single video call, scrutinizing my bank account, and even tracking my social media DMs "for my safety."
It wasn't safety; it was relentless, suffocating surveillance, a gilded cage I desperately wanted to escape.
Then came the ultimate college freshman nightmare: my debit card (tied to Mom' s account, of course) got declined at the crowded campus coffee shop.
Total humiliation.
A kind senior, Liam, stepped in and paid for my coffee and bagel; a simple, unexpected act of grace.
But that small kindness triggered a reaction I never anticipated.
Hours later, Liam messaged me, sending a screenshot that made my blood run cold.
My mother had instantly found his Venmo payment, tracked him on Instagram, and sent him a chilling message, warning him off her "vulnerable" daughter.
Liam, understandably, blocked me instantly, dissolving my only new connection.
Mom's video call that night wasn't an interrogation; it was an execution, dredging up every past friendship she' d ever destroyed, every connection she' d severed.
She wasn't just protective; she was ensuring I was utterly, completely hers.
The shame of that night quickly curdled into a burning, unyielding rage.
She wasn't trying to keep me safe; she was systematically isolating me, controlling my finances, my friendships, my entire existence.
I finally saw the pattern with terrifying clarity, a sinister obsession veiled as maternal love, one that perhaps even connected to my father' s "factory accident" years ago.
The thought that she might have secretly engineered my entire life filled me with a chilling dread.
I wasn't just terrified anymore.
I was done running.
If she wanted to monitor my life, I decided to give her something truly alarming to find.
I created Ryder Stone, the brooding musician, everything she' d despise.
It was time to stop being her puppet.
It was time to turn her own controlling surveillance into my weapon, inviting her into a trap she wouldn' t see coming. The System's Cruelest Game
Sci-fi My younger brother, Leo, died in the emergency room, a casualty of our parents'twisted "tests."
For years, "system prompts" had controlled our lives, confirming that Leo and I were mere side characters in our adoptive brother Ashton's "golden-boy" narrative.
The ultimate test arrived when our parents refused to pay for Leo's emergency treatment after Ashton knowingly gave him a peanut cookie, triggering his fatal allergy.
The system grimly confirmed: "Allergen exposure by Subject Ashton: successful. Test parameters met."
In the wake of Leo's death, my desperate attempts to raise cremation funds were sabotaged, and family accusations of fraud and dramatization poisoned my name.
Ashton publicly smeared me, claiming I faked Leo's death, while my father imposed an impossible financial task that he systematically undermined.
I was even abducted, drugged, and forced to sign away my inheritance, every path blocked.
But the final, unbearable cruelty struck when Ashton live-streamed an exposé, accusing me of using "fake ashes" at Leo's memorial.
My own father ripped open the small pouch I'd kept, scattering Leo's last physical trace to the winds as my mother screamed, calling me a "sick, attention-seeking monster."
How could they be so cruel, so relentlessly focused on destroying me, even after Leo's death?
As I collapsed, shattered, the live-stream viewers finally saw their monstrous deeds, prompting police intervention and ending their twisted game.
Now, as the system prompts falter and Ashton faces justice, I am finally free to reclaim my life, guided by Leo's memory. A Second Chance, Not With You
Romance For six years, Ava Miller, a struggling musician in Austin, had shared her life—and her dreams—with Ethan Cole, a charismatic motocross legend. Their home felt comfortable, their routine established; she believed they were on an unspoken path toward forever.
But her world crumbled when a drunken confession from Ethan’s closest friend revealed a devastating truth: Ava was merely a carefully chosen understudy, a "practice girlfriend," serving as a convenient placeholder for Ethan’s long-standing, unrequited obsession with his high school sweetheart, Chloe Vance.
The betrayal was gut-wrenching. Ethan’s deepening disinterest was palpable, her birthday forgotten while he openly pursued Chloe. The vicious cycle escalated when Chloe’s jealous machinations led to Ava being brutally hit by a car. Yet, even from her hospital bed, Ethan, hopelessly blind to Chloe’s malice, coldly hung up on the nurses, dismissing Ava’s severe injuries as a mere act for "attention."
Utterly discarded and bleeding, Ava was left to grapple with the horrifying realization: every tender moment, every song she’d penned for him, felt like a meticulously crafted lie. The man she loved saw her as less than nothing, a disposable echo of another woman. Was her entire existence with him a cruel illusion?
With her spirit shattered but an unbreakable resolve forged in despair, Ava made the definitive choice to leave everything behind. She fled Austin for Boston, embracing a new path set by her family: an arranged marriage to a kind, stable doctor. But in a twist of fate, the past refused to stay buried, resurfacing dramatically on the very day Ava sought her new beginning. You might like
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.
Carved From My Body, His Regret
Ive Gutterson My eyes struggled open, but a heavy weight held them shut. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cold hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a cruel reminder of my mother's death. I, Elena Vitiello, who controlled everything, was now helpless, reduced to a slab of meat.
Then I heard his footsteps. Dante. My husband, my anchor. But his voice was chillingly devoid of warmth as he ordered, "Do not increase the dosage. I will not risk damaging the organ's viability." The organ. My mind went blank, ice filling my veins.
Trapped and unable to move, I realized Dante saw me only as a "political placeholder," never loving me. He was having my kidney removed, carved from my body like livestock, to save his mistress, Sofia-the woman whose messes I'd cleaned for ten years. His hand, usually my comfort, smeared away my tear with sheer disgust.
The scalpel tore into my flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony. Every tug and pull hollowed me out, stripping away my potential, my love, my future. How could the man I bled for reduce me to a mere object, a spare part for his true love? The sheer insult of it fueled a volcanic rage.
As my kidney was lifted out, the final illusion of our marriage shattered completely. My fear dissolved, replaced by a chilling, absolute calm. The darkness that embraced me was not defeat, but the coiling silence of a viper preparing to strike. This kidney was not a sacrifice. It was the down payment for Dante Moretti's life. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." 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. He Broke My Spirit, I Soared
Deeply Engaged I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history.
But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me.
He swam past me.
He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water.
When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl.
"You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home."
Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her.
I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife."
He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room.
I was packing his ring into a cardboard box.
I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead.
By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession. The Don's Wife Is His Executioner
Deeply Engaged My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen.
But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman.
"Our little secret is growing."
The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar.
"The only exit from this Family is death," he warned.
The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate.
I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves.
He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy.
He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire.
I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative.
"Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first." 
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