Dolores
13 Published Stories
Dolores's Books and Stories
The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen
Mafia For five years, I was the shadow of the city's most ruthless Mafia Don—stitching his gunshot wounds, surviving gang wars, and believing every promise he whispered in the dark.
I thought our love was forged in blood and unbreakable.
Until his childhood flame crawled back to the city with nothing but debt.
Suddenly, the man who once sprinted through a blizzard to bring me medicine had no time for me. He secretly wired fifty million dollars of syndicate money to buy back her ancestral estate. He abandoned me in a bridal boutique for twelve hours—just to go hang a vintage chandelier for her. When I brought him homemade soup, he shoved me violently against a doorframe to protect her from a tiny, fake scratch.
He never noticed the blood pooling down my legs.
I lost our two-month-old baby on an operating table that night. Alone. I signed the surgical consent forms myself while he drove off into the rain because she was scared of a thunderstorm.
When he finally returned, weeping on his knees and clutching my bloodied consent form, my heart was already dead.
I walked away. Left the penthouse keys. Moved into a studio on the East Side. Started designing dresses instead of stitching wounds.
Now he stands in the rain outside my office, the former king of the underworld reduced to a ghost with ruined shoes. He thinks I'll soften. He thinks a few tears can erase five years of betrayal.
He's wrong.
Because I'm standing on a stage at Paris Fashion Week, a crystal trophy in my hand and a good man on one knee. And when I catch a glimpse of his hollow face in the shadows, I feel nothing but relief.
This is not a story of forgiveness. This is a story of what happens when a queen remembers she doesn't need a king. Escaping The Obsessive Billionaire's Cage
Modern For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark. The Feral Alpha's Secret Wolfless Mate
Werewolf In my past life, I used a black-market aphrodisiac mixed with my white peach and jasmine scent to seduce the volatile Second Alpha Son.
But the drug pushed his pureblood Inner Wolf into a violent frenzy, turning me into his broken, captive Breeder.
I thought my devotion would eventually earn his love, but I was completely wrong.
The other maids mocked my Wolfless status, and when the East Wing's deadly politics targeted me, Jaren watched with cold, golden eyes.
"A Wolfless freak could never be a real Omega," they sneered, leaving me to die an agonizing death on a cold stone floor.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my desperate love only bought me a terrifying execution.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the very night I made the fatal mistake, pinned under his scorching weight.
This time, I bit his shoulder, slipped out of his bed, and scrubbed my skin raw with harsh lye soap and mud to hide my scent.
When the Pack House Manager lined us up the next morning hunting for the girl who triggered the Alpha's feral Heat, another maid eagerly stepped forward.
"It was me, sir. I served Lord Jaren last night."
Watching her being dragged away to become his new Breeder, I calmly lowered my head and gripped my broom.
Let her take the deadly target on her back. This time, I just want to buy my freedom and get as far away from him as possible. They Left Me, He Claimed My Heart
Modern I was the luckiest woman in New York, with three devoted, successful men catering to my every whim.
Then, they left me. All three of them, for the same woman-a self-made CEO who was everything I wasn't.
They called me a spoiled brat, a user, a burden. When I ran to them, broken and bleeding after a fall, they pushed me away. One of them even put his hands on my throat, his eyes filled with a hatred I' d never seen, all while the others watched.
Their disgust was a physical blow, shattering the last piece of my heart. I was nothing to them anymore, just a mistake they were desperate to erase.
So, in my darkest moment, I made a choice. I ran to my father and demanded he arrange my marriage to the one man our circle feared-a reclusive Scottish heir they called the "Sea Lord."
It was a life sentence, but it was also my only escape. The Betrayed Wife's Darkest Alliance
Modern I was the perfect Sterling wife, living in a multi-million dollar Upper East Side townhouse where every hair had to be in place. I thought my only job was to look beautiful at Julian's side and maintain the image of a flawless high-society marriage.
But the illusion shattered when Julian came home smelling of a cheap, floral perfume that definitely wasn't mine. I followed him to The Pierre Hotel, the very place we spent our honeymoon, and caught him in a bathrobe with a younger woman who looked at me with pure triumph.
When I demanded a divorce, Julian didn't even flinch; he just laughed and showed me his true colors. He revealed he was personally funding the experimental treatment keeping my comatose father alive, and he threatened to pull the plug the moment I walked away. He told me I was nothing more than "breeding stock" needed to secure his inheritance, and I discovered his family was actively plotting to steal my father's billion-dollar medical patent. When I tried to resist, he backhanded me across the face and told me to fix my makeup because we had a gala to attend.
I stood in a ballroom full of New York's elite with a bruised jaw hidden under heavy foundation, realizing that every person I trusted had been bought. My own family lawyer turned his back on me, leaving me alone in a den of wolves who were waiting for my father to die so they could strip his legacy bare.
The injustice burned through my grief, turning my despair into a cold, sharp rage. I realized that playing by the rules had only made me a target, and if I wanted to survive, I had to become more dangerous than the men trying to destroy me.
That was when I ran into Sebastian Sterling, Julian's uncle and the most feared predator on Wall Street. He saw the bruise Julian tried to hide and whispered that he didn't do charity, but he did hate weakness. I looked into the eyes of the man they called "The Reaper" and realized he was the only one powerful enough to help me burn the Sterling empire to the ground.
"Help me," I said, stepping into his shadow. "And I'll give you everything they're trying to steal." My Birthday, His Cruel Betrayal
Modern On my 28th birthday, my superstar boyfriend, Jarrett, stood me up. He had to comfort his co-star, Kisha. A few hours later, I saw the paparazzi photo that ended our seven-year relationship.
Jarrett was in a dimly lit bar, his arm wrapped around a tear-streaked Kisha, her head on his shoulder.
The next morning, I confronted him. He insisted it was just "method acting."
"She was just drunk," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Confessing her feelings for her character."
He called me dramatic and paranoid for questioning him. He said I was throwing away seven years over a "stupid photo." It was the same gaslighting he'd used for years, wrapping his emotional infidelity in a pretty little "method acting" bow.
But this time, I didn't cry. I felt a sudden, chilling calm.
"I regret every second I wasted loving you," I told him. "We are over." Betrayed Love, A Secret Heiress Rises
Billionaires For five years, I put my life on hold to help my boyfriend, Jace, build our dream hotel. I hid my identity as the sole heiress to a culinary empire, pretending to be ordinary just to protect his fragile ego. Tonight was supposed to be the night we finally signed the papers and made it all real.
But he showed up late with his junior colleague, Kathie, on his arm. For the twelfth time, he canceled everything for one of her manufactured crises, leaving me standing alone with our investors.
The next day, in front of our entire office, he gifted Kathie a diamond tennis bracelet-the exact one I' d once admired, only for him to call it a waste of money.
He looked at my stunned silence and had the nerve to ask, "Can't you just be happy for your colleague?"
That night, he tried to make it up to me by ordering my "favorite" dish at dinner. It was a seafood stew I'm deathly allergic to, a fact he swore on our third date he'd never forget. He hadn't forgotten me; he had simply replaced my memory with hers.
He thought he was trading up for a cheap diamond. He had no idea he was throwing away a kingdom. So I smashed the model of our shared dream to pieces, booked a one-way ticket home to Napa Valley, and blocked his number. It was time to show him exactly what he had lost. The Wife He Sacrificed
Modern Five times, I had felt the flutter of life inside me, only to have it stolen away. Five times, I bled and cried. This sixth time, pregnant again, I held the secret tight, terrified Emily would find a way to blow it out.
Then, the storm hit: Emily was sick, leukemia, and I was the only perfect bone marrow match. David, my husband, the man who' d seen me through five losses, told me it was just "a collection of cells" and forced me to terminate our baby.
He had it all planned out: my body, my child, my future, all sacrificed for Emily. He called it a "medical necessity," even as he destroyed the one locket I kept, a memento for our lost daughter, because Emily "needed symbols of hope." I laid on my hospital bed, having survived severe anaphylaxis after he forced me to consume shellfish I was deathly allergic to, a soup Emily had deliberately requested. I realized he had tried to kill me, for her.
The man I married, who promised to protect me, had systematically dismantled me. He saw my pain as an inconvenience, my children as obstacles. I was trapped, isolated, with nowhere to go.
But in that moment of absolute devastation, a cold, hard certainty was born. While he was planning how to use my body to save his sister, I was planning my escape. Olivia Clark was gone for good, and Ava Miller was about to be reborn. The Woman I Loved, My Ruin
Sci-fi The static hiss was the sound of silence, of 108 voices gone. My men, Seal Team Seven, gone.
It was supposed to be a routine urban mission, but then a dazzling drone light show filled the sky, communications died, and a single, gasping voice whispered: "...they' re all gone…"
The gut-wrenching truth unfolded: a tech mogul' s "future city" launch, Liam Vance, had inadvertently jammed our encrypted channels. But the deepest cut? This mogul was Liam Vance, my wife Dr. Seraphina Vance' s brother. And the technology powering his show, the very tech that sealed my men' s fate, was experimental military gear from my unit's field hospital, requisitioned by Sera herself.
When I confronted her, still reeling from the horrific casualty report, she coolly declared them "collateral damage," a necessary sacrifice for "a much greater good." My wife, the woman I loved, stood there with champagne in hand, defending the man who murdered my men. How could she betray not just me, but the very lives I swore to protect, for some twisted vision of progress?
The love I felt curdled into a cold, hard resolve. She wanted a future built on the graves of my soldiers? Fine. I would dismantle their empire brick by bloody brick, starting now. Framed Father's Fierce Flight
Modern The laughter from my living room, once a cherished sound, now felt like a constant reminder of my invisibility.
My wife, Sophia, and our children, Lucas and Mia, hung on every word of my charming brother, Ethan, on screen-a level of admiration they never afforded me, the stay-at-home dad who managed their entire lives.
Then, Mia' s innocent question hit like a physical blow: "Does that mean Uncle Ethan can come live with us? He could be our new dad!"
Lucas eagerly agreed, "He's way more fun than Dad."
Their words, fueled by Sophia' s constant undermining and Ethan' s manipulation, confirmed they had already replaced me.
When I tried to leave, they escalated.
Lucas and Mia trashed my belongings, writing "LOSER DAD" on my pillow.
Despite my calm, Lucas shoved me, sending my head crashing against a dresser.
As I lay bleeding and disoriented, Sophia, seeing a convenient escape, called 911, accusing me of "trashing the room" and "scaring the children."
The injustice was crushing.
How could the family I sacrificed everything for not only betray me but then frame me as the villain?
The children I raised, now strangers, were echoing their mother' s twisted narrative.
Their combined cruelty and her calculated performance left me speechless, but a quiet resolve began to harden.
I would leave this place, this life built on my sacrifice and their ingratitude.
I would fight for my freedom, even if it meant dismantling the image of the perfect family they so readily discarded. Back in Time: My Wife's Secret Betrayal
Romance My wife of fifty years just passed away. Everyone called me devoted for staying by her side until her last breath.
As I sorted through her things, I found a stack of journals, tucked away in a dusty box.
Her elegant script filled the pages, but the words, page after page, year after year, were for another man: Caleb Blakely.
Fifty years of our marriage had been a lie, her every action orchestrated to protect her secret passion for him.
Her "medical trauma," the reason she claimed we could never be intimate, was a cruel fabrication.
And my son, Leo-the boy I raised and loved with all my soul after his mother died-he wasn't just my nephew in spirit. He was Caleb' s biological son.
The man I thought was my brother, the woman I devoted my life to, they had made me a fool, an unpaid nanny, a convenient placeholder.
The agony of five decades of deceit crushed me, and my heart, already weak from age and grief, finally gave out.
Then I gasped, eyes flying open, perfectly healthy and impossibly young, back in my bed with the morning sunlight streaming through the window.
I was back. Fifty years in the past. Jocelyn was walking in the door, briefcase in hand, ready to begin the betrayal all over again.
Not this time. The Heiress You Destroyed
Billionaires The ultrasound gel was cold on my pregnant belly. My fiancé, Markus, and father, Charles-my entire world-were supposedly locked in a crucial investor meeting. But then, an anonymous email. A live stream flickered to life, revealing Charles beaming, proposing to his mistress. My blood ran cold when the camera panned to Markus, smiling beside Chloe Jenkins, her hand resting on her visibly pregnant stomach, announcing their engagement.
Their words echoed: my commitment ceremony was a sham, my child illegitimate, merely a pawn in their elaborate scheme to secure the Fairmont empire through the Jenkins women. The man I loved, playing me for a fool for years. A recording from his friends confirmed it: I was just a "naive heiress," knocked up without a real ring, while he secretly chased Chloe.
The betrayal was a physical blow. At our family gala, on the anniversary of my mother' s death, Chloe wore my mother' s vintage Chanel. When I confronted her, she staged a fall, framing me. Markus, my Markus, coldly watched as she shoved me backwards, my head hitting the marble balustrade. I gasped, blood blooming on my dress. Both my father and fiancé ignored me, leaving me bleeding, my life' s foundation shattered.
My credit cards were declined. Abandoned by family, publicly branded a homewrecker, and physically attacked on the street, I was in despair. Why me? How long had this monstrous lie ensnared me? But just as a chair was poised to strike, a strong hand intervened. Alexander Sterling, the reclusive tech mogul, stepped forward. "Who dares call Mr. Sterling' s child a bastard?" he thundered, sweeping me into his arms. My child, his heir. My world had turned inside out, and a new, powerful game had just begun. You might like
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. The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
Amigo On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.
Not for business. For her.
I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.
For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.
So I chose myself.
Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back.
When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands.
But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed.
He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back.
A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost. 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. Mafia Wife's Revenge: Unleashing My Fury
Alfred For five years, I lived a beautiful lie. I was Aliana Hughes, the cherished wife of the city's most feared Mafia Capo and the beloved daughter of the Don. I believed my arranged marriage had blossomed into love.
On my birthday, my husband promised me the amusement park. Instead, I found him there with his other family, celebrating the fifth birthday of the son I never knew he had.
I overheard their plan. My husband called me a "naive fool," a placeholder to legitimize his secret son. The ultimate betrayal wasn't his affair, but the sight of my own father's car parked across the street. My family wasn't just aware; they were the architects of my ruin.
Back home, I found the proof: a secret photo album of my husband's other family posing with my parents, and records showing my father had bankrolled the entire deception. They had even drugged me on weekends so he could play happy family.
The grief didn't break me. It turned into something cold and sharp. I was a ghost in a life that was never mine, and a ghost has nothing to lose.
I copied every damning file onto a USB drive. As they celebrated their perfect day, I sent a courier with my parting gift: a recording of their treachery. While their world burned, I walked toward the airport, ready to erase myself and start over. The Mafia Boss's Estranged Bride
Megan McQueen Bring my wife to me." The words echoed through the hallway.
Five years ago, Isabella Romano died.
Or... so the world believes. She had been forced into a cold, loveless marriage with the ruthless mafia king, Lorenzo De Luca where Isabella was nothing more than a pawn in a dangerous game of power. But on the night she uncovered a secret that could destroy his empire, she became a target.
So she did the only thing she could to survive. Disappearing.
Now living under a new identity as Elena Rossi, Isabella has built a quiet life far away from blood, betrayal... and the man she once called husband. But when a high-profile art restoration job leads her straight into Lorenzo's world again, everything she once buried comes crashing back because Lorenzo never forgets and he never forgives.
The moment he sees her, one truth becomes clear, his estranged bride was still alive and this time, he was never letting her go. Now dragged back into a world she barely escaped, Isabella must hide the one secret that could destroy everything; she didn't leave alone, she had left with his son.
But as enemies close in and buried truths begin to surface, one question threatens to tear them apart:
Did Isabella run to betray him... Or to save his life?
Because in a world ruled by power and blood, love is dangerous and secrets are deadly.
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