Michelle
15 Published Stories
Michelle's Books and Stories
The Shattered Fiancée Returns As A Queen
Mafia The night before my alliance ceremony to Don Vincenzo Moretti, I discovered that my hands had been destroyed on purpose.
I was in our bedroom, the heavy silence of the compound pressing against the windows, when Vince's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He was in the shower. The screen lit up with a message from Gianna Rossi: *"The cream worked perfectly. She'll never authenticate again. The Cartelli elders will have no choice but to accept me. You owe me, Vince. Don't forget what the Rossi family knows about 2011."*
I read it four times. Then I took a photograph of the screen with my own phone.
When Vince emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, I was sitting in the armchair by the window, my bandaged hands folded in my lap, my face arranged into the placid mask I had perfected over five years in this house.
"Tired?" he asked, not really looking at me.
"Just thinking about tomorrow," I said. My voice was steady. I had learned to make it steady.
He nodded, already bored with the conversation, and turned off the light.
I lay awake in the darkness beside him, cataloguing everything I knew. The offshore accounts. The FBI agents on the Moretti payroll. The body of the man who'd crossed Vince in 2013, buried under a construction site in Jersey. Five years of secrets, and I had just been given the one piece I was missing: proof that Gianna Rossi and Vincenzo Moretti had conspired to destroy me.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. I began to plan.
The burns on my hands were permanent. The Cartelli pipeline was collapsing. The Moretti family was about to cast me aside like a broken tool. But I had something they didn't know about: a photographic memory for numbers, five years of unrestricted access to Vince's private files, and a patience they had mistaken for weakness.
I was the best blood diamond authenticator on the East Coast. But that was never my real talent. My real talent was surviving among predators while they mistook my stillness for submission.
Tomorrow, I was supposed to become Carmela Moretti, the don's wife, the silent ornament at the head of the table. Instead, I was going to become the woman who brought down the Moretti empire from the inside.
I just needed to stay alive long enough to do it. Claimed By The Cursed Black Snake Alpha
Fantasy At the absolute summit of her pop-star career, the stage collapsed beneath Catherine's feet, plunging her into a mechanical black hole.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in a hospital, but a savage, primitive forest.
Before a fire-breathing beast could tear her apart, a massive black snake crushed it with a single strike.
The terrifying serpent then transformed into Amon, a towering, heavily scarred man with golden slitted eyes, who swore his life to protect her.
He brought her to his tribe, but instead of safety, they were met with ravenous hunger and disgust.
The tribe's males stared at Catherine's fragile human body like a rare breeding prize, while treating Amon like garbage.
"He's a cursed, cold-blooded freak! His rut will tear you to pieces!"
The Chief sneered, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Amon.
"By tribal law, you must mate with our strongest tiger and bear shifters to give us powerful cubs!"
Humiliated, Amon's broad shoulders slumped, his fists trembling in suffocating shame as he prepared to back away.
Catherine's heart pounded with fierce, burning anger.
When she was about to be eaten, Amon was the only one who bled for her.
Where were these arrogant bullies then? Why should she let them treat her savior like a monster?
As the tribe's strongest warriors swarmed forward to claim her, Catherine stepped directly in front of Amon's lethal claws.
"I don't need any of you," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"I will mate with Amon and take his beast mark today!" The Unwanted Wife's Secret Genius Identity
Romance I saved a poisoned, blind man in a dark hotel room, only to be forced by my abusive adoptive family into an arranged marriage the very next day to pay off their massive debts.
The ruthless, crippled billionaire I was sold to turned out to be the exact same man I had saved the night before.
To protect my grandfather's land, I had to hide my true identity as a top-tier neurosurgeon and hacker. I wore cheap clothes and played the role of a pathetic, stuttering country girl. He was thoroughly disgusted by my fake persona, treating me like trash and ordering me out of his sight. Worse, he was obsessively tearing the city apart to hunt down the "mysterious woman" from that night, holding my lost St. Christopher medal as a deadly bounty.
"Find the owner of this medal, whatever it takes."
I was trapped in his penthouse, enduring his cruel insults while dodging his paranoid grasp every time he caught a familiar scent on my skin. But the real shock came when I hacked his private servers. His blindness wasn't permanent. His own trusted medical team was deliberately feeding him a false diagnosis to keep him disabled and vulnerable.
Why was someone trying to destroy him from the inside?
I decided not to run. Instead, I locked my guest room door, booted up my encrypted laptop, and began synthesizing the cure to restore my tyrant husband's vision right under his nose. You Cannot Afford Your Divorced Wife Now
Modern Adeline had just endured the agonizing pain of giving birth to her daughter.
But when she woke up, the bassinet beside her hospital bed was completely empty.
Her husband, Jeremey, stood at the foot of the bed with his female friend, Hayden, tossing divorce and sole custody papers onto her lap.
"You're leaving. And she's staying," Jeremey said coldly.
He accused Adeline of being a jealous monster, claiming she had poisoned Hayden's tea and permanently destroyed Hayden's chances of ever having children.
Using a manipulated security video as blackmail, Jeremey forced Adeline to sign away her parental rights to protect her newborn from being branded the daughter of a convicted felon.
Stripped of her assets and her dignity, she was thrown out of the Castillo estate and exiled to a nowhere town, forced to leave her baby in the hands of the very woman who framed her.
The despair of having her child stolen by such a vicious lie nearly broke her soul. How could the man she loved be so utterly blind?
Three years later, the grand doors of the Castillo ballroom swung open at her daughter's lavish fourth birthday party.
Adeline stepped in, wearing a scarlet gown and a mocking smile, backed by the untouchable Garrett family.
She was no longer the weak, discarded wife. The war to ruin them and take her daughter back had just begun. Reborn To Escape His Toxic Love
Romance Erich died in a freezing cabin, abandoned by the powerful Hollywood actor who had kept him as an abused, captive pet.
But instead of finding peace, his eyes snapped open in a rundown bedroom. He had been reborn into the body of a suicidal stranger.
The original owner, who shared his exact name, had swallowed a bottle of pills after being framed for plagiarism and destroyed by cyberbullying.
Now, his new family was drowning in medical debt and facing foreclosure.
Meanwhile, Erich was still paralyzed by the severe PTSD of his past life, suffocating at the mere memory of his ex's footsteps.
Desperate to shed his trauma, he went to a barbershop to cut off the greasy hair hiding his new face.
But when the barber removed the cape, a wave of pure, unadulterated terror crashed over Erich.
Staring back in the mirror was his exact original face, complete with his signature teardrop mole.
He knew if his psychopathic ex saw this face, the man would tear the world apart to drag him back to his personal hell in Malibu.
But Erich refused to be a victim again. He grabbed a flyer for a prestigious art competition and looked at his stunned new sister.
"I'm going to New York."
This time, he wouldn't hide. He was going to use his art to save this broken family and declare war on everyone who had ruined them. The Mistress's Name On His Heart
Mafia On my wedding night, while unbuttoning my new husband's shirt, I found a fresh tattoo over his heart.
A bold, jagged letter 'C'.
It stood for Caren—my best friend, the girl I had raised from the servant's quarters like a sister.
Jameson was the Prince of Philadelphia, and our marriage was a blood pact between mafia families.
But looking at that ink, I realized he had already signed a different contract with the help.
The betrayal didn't stop at infidelity.
Weeks later, Caren crashed a family dinner with a "peace offering"—a cake laced with peanuts.
She knew I was deathly allergic.
As my throat closed up and I clawed at Jameson for the EpiPen in my purse, he didn't move.
He stood there and watched me turn blue.
For three eternal seconds, he hesitated, weighing the life of his mistress against the life of his wife.
He wanted me to die so he wouldn't have to expose her.
But I didn't die.
I woke up in the hospital with the Dons of both families standing over me, waiting for an explanation.
Jameson begged me with his eyes to keep his secret, whispering that he loved me and our unborn heir.
I didn't cry. I simply connected my phone to the speaker and played the recording of him mocking me with Caren.
Then, I looked at the man who had hesitated to save my life.
"There is no heir, Jameson," I said, my voice cold as ice.
"I removed it. I will not incubate the legacy of a traitor." Reborn Heiress: Vengeance And True Love Found
Modern For three years, I poured my soul into Cade, forgiving him 99 times. I was a struggling art student, paying for our shared dreams and caring for his fragile heart.
But the 100th time, he let his cruel mistress, Alessandra, try to kill me in an old boathouse. He called it an "accident," his eyes already choosing his ambition over my life.
I woke up in the hospital to hear him call me a "disposable stepping stone" and announce his engagement to the woman who had just tried to murder me. The doctor then confirmed the worst: his betrayal had cost me our unborn child.
I had been a fool, a victim in their sick game. But as I lay there, broken and bleeding, I realized something. They thought I was a poor, orphaned artist.
They had no idea I was Blaire Madden, the sole heiress to a global corporation. And I was finally ready to come home and make them pay. My Hero Husband, My Monster
Romance My husband, Blake Wallace, was a hero who sacrificed his motocross career to save my life. His vow-"I can't lose Ellen Strong once"-was famous across the city, the cornerstone of our marriage.
Then a charlatan mystic named Celesta entered our lives. The man I loved was replaced by a monster who worshipped her, forcing me to become her servant in my own home.
He stood by as she humiliated my father to death on our marble floor.
He forced me to become her living organ bank, having my kidney removed without my consent while I was unconscious.
He even let her desecrate my father's grave, pouring his ashes on the ground for her new puppy to lick.
The love I had for him died with my father, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. The hero who once saved me was gone, leaving a man who would threaten my father's grave to keep me in line.
So when Celesta handed me a plane ticket for a "pilgrimage," I saw my chance. I faked my own death. The world believes Ellen Strong died in a plane crash. Five years later, my billionaire ex-husband, consumed by guilt, finally discovered the truth. He found me. Love, Lies, and a Vasectomy
Romance At eight months pregnant, I thought my husband Derek and I had it all. A perfect home, a loving marriage, and our miracle son on the way.
Then, while tidying his office, I found his vasectomy certificate. It was dated a year ago, long before we even started trying.
Confused and panicked, I rushed to his office, only to hear laughter from behind the door. It was Derek and his best friend, Edison.
"I can't believe she still hasn't figured it out," Edison chuckled. "She walks around with that giant belly, glowing like some kind of saint."
My husband's voice, the one that whispered words of love to me every night, was full of contempt. "Patience, my friend. The bigger she gets, the bigger the fall. And the bigger my payout."
He said our entire marriage was a cruel game to destroy me, all for his precious adopted sister, Else.
They were even running a bet on who the real father was.
"So, the bet is still on?" Edison asked. "My money's still on me."
My baby was a trophy in their sick contest. The world tilted on its axis. The love I felt, the family I was building—it was all a sham.
In that moment, a cold, clear decision formed in the ruins of my heart.
I pulled out my phone, my voice surprisingly steady as I called a private clinic.
"Hello," I said. "I need to schedule an appointment. For a termination." The Husband Who Erased Her
Fantasy Amelia Miller had built her life with Ethan Hayes over a decade, a foundation as solid as the buildings she designed. Until a phone call shattered it all. He demanded she withdraw her bid for the monumental riverside project, her career's culmination, for Chloe Davies, a socialite he claimed was guiding him to "unlock his full potential."
What followed was a nightmare. Ethan publicly declared their love a "test" holding him back, while Chloe flaunted their "power couple" status. He sabotaged Amelia's career with false plagiarism accusations, leading to her suspension. Then, he physically assaulted and imprisoned her in their home, allowing Chloe to mock and torment her.
When Amelia, recovering from the assault, returned home, she found the apartment infused with a sickeningly sweet smell. Ethan, with Chloe's smug approval, revealed he had cooked and fed their beloved golden retriever, Sunshine, to Amelia, claiming it was a "cleansing ritual" to sever old attachments. This monstrous act ignited a furious outburst from Amelia, leading to her severe injury.
The horror escalated in the hospital when Ethan, completely deluded, ordered doctors to take a skin graft from Amelia's thigh to repair a superficial wound Chloe had self-inflicted. He saw her as "selfish" and "pathetic" for resisting his "mission." Why was he destroying her, piece by piece, under the guise of some twisted self-improvement?
Broken and desperate, Amelia, infected and frail, chose to end her agony, plummeting from the Zenith Tower-the very project he had stolen from her. But fate, in a cruel twist, gave her a second chance. She miraculously awoke in a parallel reality, whole but without memory, destined to cross paths with a repentant Ethan, desperate to atone for sins she couldn't recall. The Wife He Broke
Romance My five-year mission to make Ethan Scott love me ended in failure, leaving my heart empty, my personality sacrificed to a system designed to make me the "perfect wife." My only directive: ensure his happiness. So, when the news broke that his strategist, Sabrina Chavez, was pregnant with his child, I smiled serenely.
Ethan, the man I' d spent half a decade trying to win, rushed to Sabrina' s side, leaving me bleeding on the kitchen floor after she staged an attack, blaming me. He didn' t even look at my foot, deeply sliced open by shattered ceramic. He just spat venom, calling me "insane," "pathologically jealous," and carried her away.
I drafted divorce papers, convinced this was the ultimate supportive act, the logical step to secure his happiness. Yet, when he saw them, his rage collapsed into a primal panic. "I wanted you obedient, not a heartless robot! Is this your revenge? To show me you never cared?" He saw a stranger, but all I could ask was, "Isn't making you happy my only purpose?"
Then, Sabrina had a miscarriage. The doctor said it was an old condition, unrelated to the burn. Ethan' s face wasn' t grief-stricken; it was pure relief. "The problem is solved. We can finally be happy." The system, unable to reconcile his monstrousness with its primary directive, began to short-circuit, and my body began to give out.
But as I lay dying, a strange thing happened. Ethan, stripped of his political ambition and reputation, finally loved me. His affection meter, dormant for years, soared. He begged me to stay, promising a new life. But a broken vase, once glued, always shows its cracks. I didn' t want a love built on cracks. With my last breath, I told the system: "Send me to the new world." When The Perfect Marriage Crumbled
Billionaires For seven years, my life with Marcus, the charismatic tech CEO, was a dazzling performance; our Malibu beach house, the galas, the constant cameras, all painted a picture of the perfect marriage.
Then, a small, red lipstick, a brand I recognized as belonging to his ambitious young marketing associate, Chloe, fell from behind a nightstand in our guest casita, turning my world instantly cold.
Marcus' s booming laugh when I confronted him, too quick and too smooth, failed to erase the chilling reality that his "inspirations" and "public gestures" were merely a smokescreen for a calculated betrayal aimed at my family's influence and wealth.
The carefully constructed facade of my perfect life crumbled, revealing a suffocating lie where my husband saw only an asset to exploit, leaving me caught between bewilderment and a searing sense of injustice.
But a forgotten whisper from my father and the ironclad infidelity clause in our prenup suddenly illuminated a path towards freedom, giving me the resolve to gather the undeniable proof and unlock the gilded cage I had unknowingly lived in. The Man Who Remembered
Romance I once believed in love, in forever. I was an architect, building a life, a future, with the woman I adored, Olivia. She was my world, my wife.
But then her past, in the form of Julian, her "true love," re-emerged. They framed me for his "death," sending me to prison.
Now, years later, Olivia stood over me, her face a mask, while doctors prepared to take my last kidney. It was for Julian. The man I supposedly killed. The man who was very much alive, waiting in the next room for my organ.
Her eyes, utterly cold, met mine. She knew this would kill me. This very kidney was the one I' d secretly given her years ago, when she needed it in prison. The irony was a bitter, metallic taste. My life was being stolen, piece by brutal piece, by the woman I loved.
Betrayed. Stripped of everything. Murdered on an operating table by the woman who promised me forever. Was this my end? Was this justice? No. This was a lie. A meticulously orchestrated execution.
Then, darkness. But just as I thought I was gone, I gasped awake. Back in my penthouse, my bed – exactly three years ago. Julian' s voice, "Olivia! Help me! He pushed me!" echoed from the balcony. The same lie. The same frame-up. But this time… this time, I knew the script. And this time, I wasn't playing the victim. I wasn't dying today. I was just getting started. You might like
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." 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. 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.
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. Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire
Rollins Laman For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power.
But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins.
It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola.
When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel.
Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry.
"You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch.
"But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job."
He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash.
He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him.
I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone.
Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?"
I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected.
"The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all."
Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street.
Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary.
He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" 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?
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