Ying Suhua

16 Published Stories

Ying Suhua's Books and Stories

The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

4.3

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

The Defective Omega Is The White Wolf Queen

The Defective Omega Is The White Wolf Queen

5.0

After five years of being sneered at as the "defective" Omega, I finally held the plastic stick with two pink lines. I thought this pup would finally make my mate, Alpha David, love me. But when I rushed to his office to surprise him, I heard him laughing with his Beta. "Sarah is just a pet," David's voice rumbled. "I'm micro-dosing her with Wolfsbane to ensure she stays barren. Rebecca is the only Luna I need." My world shattered. I tried to run to protect my baby, but they hunted me down. Rebecca, his cruel mistress, framed me for attacking her, and David looked at me with pure disgust. He dragged me to an underground fight ring. Rebecca whispered in his ear, claiming my unborn child was a rogue's bastard. David didn't even hesitate. Blinded by arrogance, he kicked me brutally in the stomach, determined to kill the "abomination." "David, please! It's your son!" I screamed, blood soaking my thighs. He didn't listen. He crushed our child—his own heir—under his boot. Only after I severed our mate bond and vanished did the DNA test reveal the truth: The baby wasn't a rogue. He was a rare Alpha Prime. David went mad with grief, but I was already gone. Three years later, the doors to the Grand Summit opened. I walked in, not as the weak Omega he discarded, but as the legendary White Wolf Queen. David fell to his knees, weeping and begging for a second chance. I looked down at the broken man. "You killed your son," I whispered, my aura crushing him into the floor. "Now, live with the ghost."

The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth

The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth

5.0

My husband of five years, a ruthless New York mogul, paraded his affairs while refusing to touch me. My existence was a public humiliation, a constant, quiet ache in a gilded cage. To finally get a reaction, I staged a fake affair of my own. His response wasn't jealousy. It was violence. He stabbed me with a letter opener and threatened to destroy the one thing I had left: my late mother's memorial garden. At his mistress's birthday party-held on the anniversary of my mother's death-he forced me to my knees. I had to publicly apologize to the woman he was cheating on me with, my own half-sister, Aubrey. But the ultimate betrayal came when I discovered a secret video from a decade ago. It proved Aubrey hadn't just been there when my mother fell from a balcony. She had pushed her. And my husband-the man who swore he'd find her killer-had helped cover it all up. As I knelt on that cold floor, broken and defeated, he made his final choice. He pressed a button on a remote, and my mother's garden exploded into dust and ash. In that moment, the woman he thought he knew died, and someone new was born from the wreckage.

His Illness Was A Weapon

His Illness Was A Weapon

5.0

For six years, my marriage was a clinical trial. I was the doctor for my husband Jackson' s severe contamination OCD, enduring endless cleaning rituals just for a touch. Then I found a used condom wrapper in his car. I soon learned he was breaking every single one of his pathological rules for his mistress-kissing her feet, sharing greasy pizza. His "illness" was a lie, a weapon used only against me. When I confronted him, he chose her. To protect his reputation, he threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving cancer treatment. The price for her life? I had to publicly announce I was barren and welcome his mistress and their child into our home. My six years of sacrifice, my entire life, had been a lie designed to control and humiliate me. I was nothing more than a disposable tool. The next day, in front of a room full of reporters, he handed me the script for my public humiliation. I tore it to pieces. Then I stepped up to the microphone and said, "I am here today to announce that my marriage to Jackson York is over."

His Betrayal, Her Unyielding Revenge

His Betrayal, Her Unyielding Revenge

5.0

My ten-year marriage to a tech mogul ended with his affair. But the real betrayal wasn't his cheating with my protégé. It was the words of my five-year-old son. "I want Aunt Bethany to be my mommy!" His cry shattered me. My own son chose the woman who destroyed our family. I was a ghost in my own home, my identity as a wife and mother erased. So I walked away from it all-the money, the mansion, and the son who no longer wanted me. I built a new life, adopted a daughter, Eva, who truly needed me, and found a peace I never knew. Two years later, my ex-husband reappeared. To prove his "love" and force our family back together, he kidnapped my daughter. He thought he could control me. He was about to learn that the woman he broke is gone, and the woman who stands in her place will burn his empire to the ground.

His Wives, Their Treachery, His Redemption

His Wives, Their Treachery, His Redemption

5.0

As the sole heir to the Pittman dynasty, I was presented with three marriage proposals. They were from the daughters of Boston's most powerful families-Kortney, Danielle, and Jinnie, my childhood friends whom I had loved my entire life. But my life became a series of tragedies. I married them one by one, and one by one, they died protecting the same man: Jeb Clayton, the son of our estate manager. On her deathbed, my third wife, Jinnie, confessed the devastating truth. "We only ever loved Jeb." She told me they married me for my power, using the Pittman name as a shield to keep their low-status lover safe and in their lives. My marriages, their deaths-it was all a lie. I wasn't a husband; I was a bodyguard, a cuckolded fool in their tragic romance. I spent a lifetime as a supporting character and died an old man, alone, with only the city's pity for company. My entire life had been a cruel joke, and I was the punchline. Until I opened my eyes again. I was twenty-four, standing before my parents, with the same three velvet boxes on the table.

Her Miscarriages, Their Dark Secret

Her Miscarriages, Their Dark Secret

5.0

For three years, I endured four miscarriages, each a crushing reminder of my failure, while my husband, Axel, played the part of the grieving spouse, whispering comforting words and promising a different outcome next time. This time, it was different. Axel's concern morphed into control, isolating me in our gilded cage, claiming it was for my safety and the baby's, due to the stress of being married to the protégé of Senator Dennis Clarke-my biological father. My trust shattered when I overheard Axel and my adopted sister, Adeline, in the garden. She was holding a baby, and Axel's soft smile, a smile I hadn't seen in months, was directed at them. Adeline's feigned sadness about my "miscarriages" revealed a horrifying truth: my losses were part of their plan to secure Axel's political future and ensure their son, not mine, inherited the Clarke dynasty. The betrayal deepened when my parents, Senator Clarke and Barbara, joined them, embracing Adeline and the baby, confirming their complicity. My entire life, my marriage, my grief-it was all a monstrous, carefully constructed lie. Every comforting touch from Axel, every worried look, was a performance. I was just a vessel, a placeholder. Adeline, the cuckoo in my nest, had stolen everything: my parents, my husband, my future, and now, my children. The realization hit me like a physical blow: my four lost babies weren't accidents; they were sacrifices on the altar of Axel and Adeline's ambition. My mind reeled. How could they? How could my own family, the people who were supposed to protect me, conspire against me so cruelly? The injustice burned, leaving a hollow, aching void. There were no more tears to cry. Only action. I called the hospital and scheduled an abortion. Then, I called my old dance academy, applying for the international choreography program in Paris. I was leaving.

Ninety-Nine Chances Gone

Ninety-Nine Chances Gone

5.0

For three years, I was James Cole's wife, a title he forced on me. But his relentless, obsessive love started to win me over. I was even pregnant with our child, finally daring to hope for a future together. But the day I got the positive pregnancy test, the man who had been obsessed with me was gone. He began publicly chasing a young intern, Janay Rodgers, showering her with the same grand romantic gestures he once used to win my heart. To win her over, he leaked a twisted story about my mother abandoning me, turning the public against me. He accused me of poisoning Janay and sided with his father to force me into a risky paternity test that threatened our baby's life. He orchestrated a live TV interview where my own mother was paid to call me a gold-digger, all to make Janay look like a triumphant hero. When I collapsed in pain on stage from the shock, he ignored my pleas for help. He was too busy comforting Janay, who had a "broken wrist." I lost our child that day. Lying alone in the hospital, I heard his father demand he divorce me. His brother brought me the papers. I signed them without a second thought. I didn't want his money or his apologies. I just wanted to disappear from his life forever.

More Than Worthless

More Than Worthless

5.0

I married into the Sterling family, only to find myself alone on my wedding night, my husband, Mark Sterling, nowhere to be found. When he finally returned, he looked at me with disdain, sneering that I was "all ambition and no class," and admitted he was forced to marry me. My empire, built from nothing, suddenly felt worthless in his eyes. Days later, I overheard his cruel laughter and words: "Ava? She' s utterly bland. Tasteless, really." My company, the "goldmine" he coveted, was just a means to an end. The last illusion shattered, and I signed the divorce papers I had discreetly prepared, leaving them on his desk as I fled the city. Five years passed. I returned, a successful CEO of a global tech empire, and found him at a high-profile auction. Mark, arrogant as ever, tried to humiliate me by outbidding me on a car, convinced I was still the penniless woman he had discarded. He dragged me into the dirt, mocked me, and had me beaten for merely existing. The crowd, a chorus of old money and false smiles, reveled in my public humiliation, showering me with insults and even physical abuse. Why did they believe all his lies? Why was my success met with such venom? Why did they choose to dehumanize a woman they knew nothing about, based solely on his word? I had built an empire, yet in his eyes and the eyes of this city, I was still just "worthless trash" without him. But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know the power I now wielded, nor the influential man who stood silently by my side. As I lay there, bleeding and bruised, I knew this was just the beginning of my reckoning.

His Wife, Her Intern, And The Watch

His Wife, Her Intern, And The Watch

5.0

My phone buzzed, pulling me from millions in quarterly reports. It was Instagram. I found a picture of my wife' s intern, Ethan, smirking, wearing my grandfather' s prized Rolex – a priceless family heirloom. His caption: "A huge thank you to the most generous boss and mentor, Sabrina Anderson, for this incredible gift." Rage, cold and sharp, washed over me. I messaged her, "Where is my watch?" Her reply: "I loaned it to Ethan. Relax, Nate. Don't be so dramatic. It's just a watch." "Just a watch." Her words shattered everything. All the sacrifices, the empire I built for her. My anger turned to icy resolve. She didn't just disrespect the watch; she disrespected my family, my history, and me. I made a call. Her custom Porsche, impounded. Her designer wardrobe, shredded. There was no turning back. This wasn't just about a watch; it was about reclaiming my life.

The Ghost Of Her Past

The Ghost Of Her Past

5.0

The last thing I remembered was a crushing weight in my chest, and the impossibly cruel words about my son not being mine. Then, everything went black. I thought I was dead, a broken man on my own lawn, betrayed by the wife I' d mourned for a decade. But I opened my eyes to the scent of lilies and the familiar wooden pews of St. Michael's church. It was Nicole' s funeral, ten years ago, the very day she supposedly died. My mother-in-law, Maria, was there, whispering an insane proposition: marry her younger daughter, Gabby, just on paper, for my baby son, A.J. In my first life, I' d been horrified by the thought, clinging to Nicole' s memory. But that Andrew was dead. This Andrew was back, alive and seething with a cold, hard resolve. I knew what was coming in ten years. I knew she' d return to destroy me. Not this time. I stared at Gabby, then turned to Maria, my voice steady, my decision made. "Okay," I said. "I' ll do it." The game had changed. I was given a second chance, and this time, I would build a fortress.

My Second Death, Her Sweet Revenge

My Second Death, Her Sweet Revenge

5.0

I was living a dream, finally back in the warm embrace of Sera, the woman I lost. But a director' s enraged shout shattered the illusion, revealing harsh studio lights, cameras, and a cold, hard floor. The script called for force, not love, and my confusion on set marked me-not as a lover, but as a stalker, publicly rejected by Sera herself. Her icy contempt, the humiliating laughter of the crew, and her eventual orchestration of my lonely death from an aggressive cancer left me broken, convinced she was a stranger. Yet, after dying in despair, I inexplicably woke up in a new, wealthy body, finally experiencing the warmth of a loving family, unaware that the very heart beating in my chest was the beacon drawing her, and a new, even more terrifying battle for my soul, back into my life.

When His Grief Was a Lie

When His Grief Was a Lie

5.0

My parents, the last Lifeweavers, left me with a heavy legacy: marry a Hamilton for protection. My wedding day came, but my fiancé, Ethan, chose another, leaving me to his charming half-brother, Liam. He wrapped me in a web of supposed care, until the miscarriages began. Five times, I held fleeting hope, only for it to shatter, leaving me broken, a cursed vessel of death. Liam was always there, seemingly heartbroken, holding me close. I thought I was paying a terrible price for saving his life, a secret burden of my hidden power. My world shattered when I overheard Liam plotting: my babies were sacrifices, their essence stolen to sustain the sickly Chloe Vance. Liam' s grief, his protection-all a monstrous lie, meticulously designed to ensure I would conceive again, and again. I was nothing more than a breeding tool for his depraved scheme. But during my sixth miscarriage, as I lay bleeding, my parents' old locket pulsed with an ethereal light, revealing my true Lifeweaver power. Liam, finally seeing my nature, then demanded a ritual-a brutal exchange of my very lifeforce to save Chloe. I agreed, but this time, the ritual would be my weapon. With the forgotten strength of my lineage and the spectral embrace of my six lost children, I would turn his twisted game against him. I would fight for my freedom, and for their peace.

No Longer His Wife, But Her Own Architect

No Longer His Wife, But Her Own Architect

5.0

The email I' d been waiting for all morning finally pinged. It was about the Civic Innovators Fellowship, my chance to design something truly meaningful for the city. My husband, Mark, a city planner, was on the selection committee and had promised his full support. But my name wasn' t on the list. Instead, it was Jessica Evans, Mark' s young protégé, a name I' d heard too much recently. Confusion turned to ice as Mark, without a hint of remorse, confirmed the news and dismissed my own groundbreaking work. Suspicion crept in. That night, I found him with Jessica, far too intimate for mere colleagues. Then I discovered my ultimate betrayal: he' d pawned my deceased mother' s locket-my most cherished keepsake-to fund Jessica' s career, and given it to her as a "gift." When I confronted them, Jessica played the innocent victim, and Mark, unbelievably, blamed me for being "hysterical." The humiliation deepened when Jessica orchestrated a street attack on me, then spread vile rumors, twisting me into the aggressor. Mark, ever concerned with appearances, sided with her, demanding I stay silent to protect his reputation. Trapped and seething, my home felt like a cage, my marriage a cruel charade. How could the man I loved betray me so completely, then watch as my life fell apart, accusing me of madness? But despair began to harden into a fierce resolve: I would not let them win. My old mentor' s offer of a small community project in Oakhaven became my escape: a chance to prove them wrong, to rebuild my life, and finally find the strength to fight back for everything I' d lost.

The Monster By My Bedside

The Monster By My Bedside

5.0

My life was a picture of perfection: happily married, a successful graphic designer, and four months pregnant, envisioning a bright future in my chic Chicago apartment. Then, the nightmare began, shattering everything. Masked men burst into my home, assaulting me, and the last thing I remembered before blacking out was my husband Mark's key in the lock. I woke up in a hospital bed, only to learn I'd lost our baby, and the attack had left me infertile. But the true horror came from behind a curtain: my 'grieving' husband Mark admitting his 'relief' to his best friend, David, revealing the assault was orchestrated by his mistress, Jessica, merely a 'warning' for me to miscarry. My own husband, complicit in the murder of our child and the destruction of my future, was relieved it happened. The betrayal was an icy blade, a thousand times worse than any physical pain, leaving me reeling in a cold, absolute rage. How could the man who held my hand moments earlier be such a monster? Lying there, playing the incapacitated victim, I knew I couldn't simply 'move on' with this charade. I had to vanish. With the help of David, I decided to stage my own death. I shed 'Sarah Miller,' leaving her tragic story behind, becoming 'Emily Hayes,' ready to forge a new life-and make them pay.

Adoration Beyond Compare

Adoration Beyond Compare

4.7

Yvonne had never thought that her life would take such a drastic turn in a single day. Based on a misunderstanding, Yvonne, along with her friend, had to visit the police station. There, she saw her boyfriend, who was detained and accused of participating in prostitution. Despite the shock and the numbing pain in her heart, she held back her tears and broke up with him right there. But her day wasn't done and the drama didn't end there. The misunderstanding that had led her to the police station brought her into Cary’s world--the luxurious world of the youngest tycoon in the city. “Be my woman,” he whispered to her, and that moment onward, he adored her without end and beyond compare.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Dorine Koestler

4.5

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 Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen

The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen

5.0

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.

The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

4.3

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair

Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair

5.0

I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.

Marrying His Rival: The Ex-Fiancé's Nightmare

Marrying His Rival: The Ex-Fiancé's Nightmare

5.0

I was the "Caged Canary" of the underworld, a biological asset designed to merge two crime families. My fiancé, Bryant Barnes, didn't love me. He loved the power I brought, and he loved his mistress, Kalia. The night Kalia broke into my penthouse and stomped on my hand, crushing the bones and my fashion career, Bryant didn't help me. He told the police she was my guest and warned me not to embarrass him with a cast. That was just the beginning. When Kalia lied about feeling unsafe, Bryant dangled me off a balcony. When she faked a kidnapping, he locked me in an industrial freezer for six hours until I turned blue. And when I fell into the marina, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown in the freezing water. He destroyed my body and my dignity for a woman who was stealing my designs and faking a pregnancy. He thought I was just a broken obligation he could discard. But he made a fatal mistake. He didn't make sure I was dead. I dragged myself out of the water and made a call to his greatest rival. On the night of our grand merger, I walked onto the stage wearing royal blue instead of white. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the scars he gave me, looked him dead in the eye, and grabbed the microphone. "I hereby terminate my engagement to Bryant Barnes. And I am proud to announce my betrothal to the true King of this city."

The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback

The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback

5.0

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns

His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns

5.0

On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table. Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen. "Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over." I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward. Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant. She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest. As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me. He hugged her. "It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you." The betrayal didn't stop there. When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police. When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations. He declined the call. He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife. That was the moment the chain broke. As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come. I opened the door and jumped into the dark. Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement. Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one.

Revenge Is Sweet: Marrying His Worst Enemy

Revenge Is Sweet: Marrying His Worst Enemy

CHRISTINE ROBINSON

5.0

I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction. Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world. "The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella." I froze. My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival. He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen." I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours. Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content. He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's. Then, he pushed me off the edge. As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing. I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement. "Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game." He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life. But he forgot that I knew his secrets. I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson. "It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt."

Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

5.0

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.