Dashing Wave Rider
16 Published Stories
Dashing Wave Rider's Books and Stories
Ashes Of Betrayal: My Ex-Husband's Regret
Mafia I was married to Dante Rossi, the ruthless Don of the New York Mafia.
For four years, I believed his terrifying power would protect me, especially after his ex-lover pushed me down the stairs, causing our daughter Serafina to be born dead.
But during our annual mourning trip to Iceland, his encrypted phone lit up with a text from the woman who murdered our baby.
"Angelo is making his birthday wish. He wants his Papa to come home to us."
Inside his pocket, his St. Jude locket didn't hold a picture of our dead daughter, but a photo of a four-year-old boy with Dante's eyes.
The truth shattered me. Our winter trips to see the aurora weren't to mourn Serafina; they were to celebrate his hidden bastard's birthday.
When I tried to flee, Dante intercepted me at the airport with his armed guards.
He froze my accounts, relocated my paralyzed mother to a secret facility, and even held my dead daughter's urn hostage to force me back into my gilded cage.
I later discovered he had even split Serafina's ashes, burying half in a church wall to build karma for his mistress's son in the violent underworld.
How could the man who held me through my nightmares use my dead baby as a superstitious shield for his bastard?
Staring at the man who had lied to me for four years, the last shred of my love died.
I picked up the phone and called my lawyer.
"Signal the FBI strike team. I am tearing down the Syndicate." The Call He Never Answered
Romance At my company' s anniversary party, my husband Mark, beaming, played a game with his assistant, Lily, a cookie balanced on his forehead. As the room erupted in applause when he succeeded, I cheered, "Go, Mark!" The room fell silent. Lily' s smile vanished, her eyes welling with tears as she whimpered, "Oh, Mark."
Mark, furious, snapped at me, "What' s wrong with you, Olivia? You always have to ruin everything. You're such a killjoy. So boring." Then, in front of everyone-our colleagues and friends-he bent down and kissed Lily, deeply and passionately.
On our tenth wedding anniversary, watching Mark kiss another woman, I felt absolutely nothing. Later, Lily, riding comfortably in the passenger seat of our car, flashed a sickeningly sweet smile and called me "Sis-in-law." I remembered Mark once scoffing at my handmade charm, saying it didn' t match his car' s style, yet he found a custom pink paint job acceptable.
The next morning, Lily posted a photo of red roses on Instagram: "This big silly man always remembers my birthday." In the corner, my wedding ring rested on a man' s hand. When Mark returned, he joked, "What' s the occasion? You even made a cake?" He then smeared frosting on my cheek, remarking on the cake' s poor presentation.
If this had happened any other year, I would have screamed and cried. Instead, I calmly dumped the cake in the trash. He tried to appease me with expensive jewelry, a routine apology after every fight. But when I saw Lily' s text on his phone-"Mark, I had so much fun tonight, see you tomorrow~"-he erupted in a rage.
He shoved me, throwing me off balance. My arm sliced on the coffee table, and my ankle twisted. He simply muttered, "For God' s sake, Olivia," before rushing to Lily' s side after she called him, leaving me injured and alone. Why did he care more about her fake sickness than my real injury?
I was numb. I was utterly done. What else could I do but finally set myself free? That night, for the first time in a decade, I slept soundly, knowing I had made the right decision. My life had to change. Left To Drown: The Heiress's Cold Departure
Mafia 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 Alpha's Assassin Wolfless Mate
Werewolf I woke up to a symphony of agony, only to realize I was trapped in the body of a girl who had just been pushed down a flight of stairs.
I was once a top-tier operative who died in a fiery explosion, but now I was "Ariel," a despised, wolfless pariah in a primitive werewolf pack.
The Alpha, Alphonso West, stood over my broken body, radiating hostility and disgust for the mate he was politically forced to marry.
Instead of treating me, he banished me to a dilapidated cottage, fully expecting me to die from my severe, infected chest wound.
The pack's servants, led by a cruel girl named Trina, immediately came to humiliate and starve me.
They thought I was still the pathetic, lovesick fool they used to beat up for fun.
They waited for me to cry, to beg for the Alpha's attention, or to just quietly bleed out in the dirt.
The original Ariel had given her entire life for this man's affection, only to be casually murdered by him.
How could they treat a human life like worthless garbage?
Did they honestly believe I would just lay down and accept this miserable fate?
They had no idea the soul inside this shattered body had been replaced.
"I think you have the wrong person."
I stitched my own torn flesh with a rusted pin, paralyzed the servant who dared to attack me, and openly challenged the Alpha's authority in his own throne room.
I didn't need a wolf to survive. I was going to teach this pack what a true apex predator looks like. Bound To The Billionaire's Cruel Contract
Billionaires Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son. Rewired Soul, Broken Alpha Heart
Werewolf After months of tearing the continent apart, I finally found her. Covered in mud and blood, raw from the river, I was a monster, a ghost. Across the street, June looked peaceful, utterly unaware.
Then, a man stepped out, shielding her with an umbrella, his arm a casual, possessive claim. My heart stopped.
I unleashed my Alpha aura; June shivered, thinking it a cold snap. Frankie turned, a mocking smile in his eyes. He knew.
Marcus broke ribs restraining my rage as June and Frankie drove away, taking the only light in my miserable world.
The 'Tabula Rasa' spell hadn't just erased her memory; it rewired her soul, making her immune to our mate bond. She saw an ordinary stranger. Her scent gone, preferences changed. Agony shredded my mind; my power useless.
My magic failed, but I had other weapons. "Buy the street. Buy the shop. Buy every property within five miles. Suffocate them with cash," I commanded. Tomorrow, I'd be Bren, a bankrupt man seeking solace, ready to reclaim what was mine. His Betrayal, My Reborn Heart
Modern In my previous life, I poured my family's savings into Diego Torres. He was a scholarship student I mistook for a tech prodigy, and I helped him become a billionaire.
His way of thanking me was conspiring with his first love, Kiana, to kill me in an explosion.
My mistake cost me everything.
But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the campus cafe, years before my murder. There was still time to fix every mistake.
Diego sat across from me, demanding a thirty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for Kiana, or else he would refuse my funding.
In that instant, I knew he had been reborn too. Blade of the Fallen: A Daughter's Retribution
Mafia For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire.
When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again.
Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever.
When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement.
My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin.
They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor.
Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine.
While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone.
They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again.
I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love.
In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them.
The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost.
Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch.
"I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta." Forsaken for a Fake: The True Luna's Revenge
Werewolf My husband, Alpha Kaeden, once looked at me with adoration. But after he brought Clemmie home, his eyes turned cold, glazed over by the "herbal tea" she fed him.
Now, I lay chained to a steel table in the dungeon, the smell of my own burning flesh filling the air.
Kaeden stood over me, indifferent to my screams. He ordered the guards to electrocute me through silver cuffs—the poison of our kind—even though he knew I was carrying his pup.
But torture wasn't the end goal. I froze when I heard the doctor’s question.
"The transplant carries risks, Alpha. Taking a heart from a living donor..."
Clemmie didn't just want my husband; she wanted my heart to cure her "sickness" and steal my White Wolf power.
I waited for Kaeden to refuse. Instead, he rubbed his temples and delivered my death sentence.
"Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."
"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.
"Incinerate it."
Those words killed me faster than the silver. I died on the operating table that night, my heart flatlining for three minutes to stage my death.
Kaeden thinks I am ash in a jar. He thinks he saved his mistress.
But when I opened my eyes in the safe house, they weren't brown anymore. They were glowing silver.
Beside me, my daughter slept, alive and radiating ancient power.
The weak Luna is dead. The White Wolf has risen.
And I am going home to take back my pack. Framed By Family, Reborn By Love
Modern My family framed me for corporate espionage, and my uncle told me I was dead to them. So I obliged. I faked my own death and built a new life as Elia Parker, a successful architect married to a tech mogul.
But after five years, my past refused to stay buried. My cousin found me at my own grave and dragged me to a public event, parading me around like a ghost.
My uncle, who left me to rot in a hospital, feigned shock.
My aunt shrieked that I was a monster for faking my death.
Then she lunged, her nails raking across my cheek and drawing blood.
"You ungrateful bitch!" she screamed.
As I stood there bleeding, my so-called family just watched, not one of them moving to help. It was the same cold indifference that had destroyed me five years ago.
Just as I was about to break, a voice cut through the chaos, quiet but radiating power. "Is everything alright here, Elia?"
It was my husband, Javier Bates. And the look on his face told me their world was about to burn. Jilted Heiress: Her Billion-Dollar Payback
Romance My fiancé, Drew, had a crippling germ phobia. Our wedding was a merger in disguise-a deal where my fortune would save his family's failing company.
But at the altar, in front of the world, he left me for his intern. He declared he was choosing "love over money," painting me as the cold-hearted villain who tried to buy a husband.
He wasn't done. He staged a suicide attempt from my office building, live-streaming to the world how my "cruelty" had pushed him to the edge.
Then, he and his new love came to my office with their final demand: twenty percent of my company and my late mother's priceless necklace.
"Cassidy is quite fond of it," he sneered.
The next day, during the emergency board meeting called to fire me, he called, gloating.
"It's checkmate, Jaeda. Just accept that you've lost."
I put him on speakerphone for the entire board to hear. "Actually, Drew," I said, as federal agents walked into the room, "I own the entire board." Escaping His Obsession, Finding Love
Romance I woke up gasping, the memory of my first life still fresh: my fiancé, Elliott, watching coldly as I drowned, his mind poisoned by a woman named Katarina after an accident gave him amnesia.
This time, I had a plan to escape before his fateful yacht trip. But the doorbell rang. It was Elliott, home early. And holding his arm was Katarina. He claimed he'd had a "small incident" on the yacht, but his eyes were clear. He remembered me. He had no amnesia.
He brought her into our home anyway, moving her into my deceased mother's studio. He ordered my parents' priceless mementos thrown in the trash. When I protested, he threw me against the wall. When Katarina "accidentally" shattered a photo of my family, he slapped me and locked me out of the house in the pouring rain.
In my first life, I could blame his cruelty on his memory loss. I told myself he was a victim, too. But now, he remembered everything—our childhood, our love, our promises. This wasn't a man being manipulated. This was a monster, deliberately choosing to torture me.
When Katarina smashed the last gift from my mother, I finally snapped and attacked her. Elliott's response was swift. He had his guards drag me to a soundproofed room in the basement and strap me to a chair. As the electricity seared through my body, I understood. My second chance wasn't an escape. It was a new level of hell, and this time, my torturer was fully aware of what he was doing. No More Naive: The Heiress's Reckoning
Fantasy My eyes snapped open.
I was five years old again, held in my father's strong arms, his face etched with worry as he sighed, "Alright, Ava, I'll marry her."
The words struck me cold: Chloe Raine, my art tutor, my future stepmother, my murderer.
In my last life, that exact sentence sealed my grim fate.
I, a naive child, had cried for him to marry her, desperate for a mother.
Chloe used my innocent longing to infiltrate the Hamilton name and wealth, only to end my life years later, once she was pregnant with her own child, by exploiting my severe peanut allergy.
I remembered the chilling staged kidnapping, the car trunk, and her cold voice arranging to dump my body, every detail of the darkness, fear, and ultimate betrayal.
Now, I was inexplicably back, reborn at this precise, fateful moment.
My five-year-old body sobbed in my father's embrace, but inside, a cold, adult rage simmered, burning away any trace of childish innocence.
This time, things would be profoundly different.
Chloe, standing nearby with a barely hidden triumphant smirk, believed she had won.
She wanted into the Hamilton family, but I would ensure she regretted that wish for the rest of her miserable life, turning my doting father, my powerful grandmother Eleanor, and our fiercely loyal staff into my unsuspecting instruments of a long, agonizing vengeance. Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Lost Your Sarah
Romance I gave him a kidney, built his empire beside him, even risked my life for our son.
My world revolved around my family, and for years, it felt perfect.
Then, Michael' s old flame, Jessica, reappeared, infecting our home with venom.
My own son, Ethan, twisted by her influence, turned hostile, wishing me dead and abusing our pet.
Michael' s words confirmed my worst fears: "She needs me. She wouldn't know how to survive without me."
They left me injured on a dark, rain-soaked street after my son pulled me from the car.
I found my beloved cat, Buddy, brutalized by Ethan.
Then came the final photo: Michael and Jessica, naked, mocking me.
My life, my sacrifices, were meticulously shredded, leaving me utterly annihilated.
Emotionally, I was already gone, my spirit extinguished by their calculated cruelty.
How could the very people I cherished betray me so utterly?
It was then I whispered to the interface, "Confirm activation of Protocol Chimera. Simulated demise. New identity. Complete severance."
The Sarah they brutalized was dead.
It was time to make it official. The Heiress Reborn: A Legacy Unleashed
Billionaires I was Isabella "Izzy" Montoya, sole heiress to a fortune that swayed nations, groomed to choose a husband who would secure my family's legacy.
In my first life, that man was Ethan Ashford, my charming, long-standing crush.
I poured the Montoya empire into his rise, gifted him power beyond measure.
Then he soared, destroyed everything I held dear, seized our assets, and left me with nothing but ash and a shattered heart.
He blamed me publicly, left me utterly ruined.
I died, heartbroken, and Marc Vance, the good man who quietly loved me, died trying to expose Ethan, trying to save *me*.
Our dynasty was decimated.
The memories of his betrayal, the destruction of my family, and the quiet heroism of Marc Vance were vivid, cruel.
How could I have been so blind?
How could one man cause so much devastation?
Then, I woke up.
It was the day of the Legacy Gala, the day I was to announce my choice – the man who would receive the "Montoya Midas Touch."
This time, Ethan Ashford would not win.
This time, I would choose wisely, and the Midas Touch would not turn to dust in my hands. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don
Ebony Pete "You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down? 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.
Bound By Vows: My Sleeping Mafia Husband
Zhen Xiang I wasn't marrying into the Falcone mafia because I was loved.
I was being handed over like payment.
My parents owed the Falcones a fortune, and I was the daughter they chose to sacrifice. On my wedding day, I was supposed to become the wife of Enzo Falcone, the golden heir of New York's most dangerous mafia family.
Then an anonymous message lit up my phone.
Want to see your groom? Go to the bridal suite.
I went.
I found Enzo on my wedding bed with my half-sister. Her dress was pushed up. My lace garter, the one meant for me, was wrapped around her ankle like a trophy.
And when the scandal exploded, no one blamed him.
His mother called me a lunatic. My half-sister cried pretty, poisonous tears. Then she revealed the final insult.
She was pregnant with Enzo's child.
They locked down the estate to silence me. They wanted me humiliated, obedient, and disposable. A ruined bride. A convenient scapegoat. A debt paid in flesh and shame.
So I gave them a show they would never forget.
I walked onto the balcony, set my diamond-studded veil on fire, and dropped the burning silk in front of every elite guest who had come to watch me be sold.
Then I went to the true matriarch of the Falcone family and made my own demand.
I would not marry a traitor.
I would marry Damien Falcone instead.
The dead grandson. The fallen Underboss. The legendary God of War.
A dead man could not betray me. A dead man could not touch me. A dead man could give me the power to destroy everyone who had tried to bury me.
At least, that was what I thought.
Until I learned Damien Falcone was not as dead as everyone believed. Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don
Hei Baidong I was dragged back from the countryside by my father for one purpose: to be a sacrificial lamb.
He ordered me to marry the mafia Don Damien Valachi in place of my sister. Everyone in the underworld knew that this Don's brides never saw the light of the next day. My stepmother put on a fake smile and took my hand, calling it an "honor"; my sister hid behind her, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
I smiled coldly and held up two fingers: "Twenty million dollars. Now."
My father tried to play tricks, planning to take back the money from my trust fund after I died, but I had someone transfer every cent out before the wedding, leaving him a zero balance.
The next day, the wedding car pulled up to the Valachi estate. The butler ordered the driver to use the service entrance-it seemed my groom didn't think I was worthy of the front gate.
I got out and switched to an armored vehicle. I floored the accelerator, crashing straight through the estate gates. The gates shattered, and I didn't stop until I reached the main steps. I jumped out, the heel of my shoe crushing a broken iron railing, and shouted:
"The bride is here."
I looked up, scanning every window until my gaze stopped on one dark pane. I knew Damien was watching.
I brushed the dust off my skirt, raised my voice a notch, and smiled: "What, the Don of the Valachi family doesn't dare come out to meet his new wife?" My Bestie's Dad Popped My Cherry
Oye's Pen "You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?"
I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin.
"You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs.
"Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please."
"Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled.
"Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?
Jilted Fiancée? No, The Billionaire Heiress!
Luo Xi I hid my identity as the heiress of a top-tier wealthy family just to build a normal, quiet life with my fiancé, Jefferey.
We had just picked out our dream villa, but a sudden bank notification shattered my illusion.
The entire $7.8 million from our joint trust fund had been wired to a woman named Jessie Barr.
When I hacked into his synced tablet, the truth hit me like a truck. Jessie wasn't just a stranger; she was his secret lover.
They even had a four-year-old son who shared Jefferey's exact eyes.
"The money is in your account. Our future is secure now. I'll leave her soon."
Reading his messages to her, I realized my three years of devotion were nothing but a long con.
I was just the final "project" he needed to fund his real family.
He used my resources, my connections, and my money to build a life in the shadows with his true love, treating me like a naive piggy bank he could discard at any moment.
I had given up my absolute power for a man who fed me nothing but lies.
But Jefferey forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just some helpless woman he could ruin.
I calmly closed my laptop and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.
"Mom, I was wrong. I'm ready to accept the Romero family's marriage alliance."
It was time to gut his company and take everything he owned. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. 
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