Waking Up To The Mafia Don's Betrayal

The White Wolf's Secret: Rejected By The Alpha

I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums. It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing. My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home. In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power." When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology. I was met with a slap from my mother. Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her. To "save" her, my family locked me in my room. But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door. "Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical. "She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups." My blood ran cold. They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock. They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes. They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant. I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood. I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel. "Screw the meatloaf," I whispered. I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.

Hands of Stone, Heart of Vengeance

My husband told me I was a bad investment, a legacy asset he was forced to liquidate after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a "Muse," a supermodel whose lies were as polished as the magazine covers she graced. But when her son—the boy Adrian believed was his heir—suffered a sudden allergic reaction, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous chemist who mixed poison to harm an innocent child. My husband, the man whose empire was built on the scents I created, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he declared that if my hands were used for evil, they shouldn't be used at all. He ordered his security team to bring quick-drying industrial cement. "Since you can't control these hands, I will seal them forever," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy. He then had my hands encased in stone and had me displayed in the window of our flagship store, a public spectacle for the world to condemn. As I stood there, the heavy weight crushing my fingers and my soul, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me. But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I’d planted in the nursery. And they had no idea that my family controlled the very flowers that kept his empire alive.

My Guardian's Kiss, A Bitter Sweet Goodbye

For ten years, I lived with my guardian, Cole, secretly loving him. He was my late brother's best friend, the man I had worshipped since I was eight. On my eighteenth birthday, I confessed my love with a painting. He ripped it to shreds, roaring, "I am your guardian, for God's sake!" He called my love a pathetic fantasy. Two months later, he was engaged. He forgot I had a deadly allergy to the mango dessert his fiancée offered me. Then, one night, he stumbled home drunk, pinned me to my bed, and kissed me while murmuring his fiancée's name. The next morning, he looked at me with disgust. "What are you doing in my bed, Cora?" My world shattered. The man who had spoiled me rotten, who promised to protect me forever, now saw me as disgusting and delusional. My decade of devotion had only burned me. But his cruelty was the final push I needed. I accepted a full scholarship to Juilliard, a one-way ticket out. On his birthday, I packed my bags, deleted his number, and walked out of his life forever. I would never look back.

One Night, His Unseen Legacy

After ninety-nine failed attempts to win the heart of the brilliant but cold Dr. Julian Burke, I drugged him for one night of passion. It didn't make him love me. I fled to London in shame. Three years later, a photo surfaced. It was Julian, smiling tenderly at a younger woman-a dead ringer for his deceased first love. I flew back to New York to end our sham engagement, but he destroyed me first. He publicly accused me of leaking his research, and his testimony sent me to prison. While I was inside, I was brutally attacked and lost a kidney. My father, crushed by the scandal, died of a stroke, and I wasn't there to say goodbye. I was just collateral damage in his twisted atonement for a ghost, a convenient villain to protect her manipulative sister. He let me rot, believing I was a monster. But he didn't know the secret I carried from that one night. After my release, I took our son and vanished. I would build a new life, and he would never know the son he abandoned or the woman he truly broke.

His Betrayal, Her Bitter Freedom

To save my dying mother, I had to remarry my cheating ex-husband, Braden. He was the only surgeon in the country who could perform the life-saving surgery she needed, so I swallowed my pride and walked back into our gilded cage. But on the day of the operation, he abandoned her. He left my mother to die on the table for a "personal emergency"-a flat tire with his mistress, Angelina. When my grief turned to rage, he didn't just dismiss my pain. He used his power to have me declared mentally unstable, bribing doctors and having me dragged away to a psychiatric hospital to silence me forever. Trapped in a padded cell, stripped of my dignity and my sanity, I realized he had taken everything. My mother, my freedom, my name. The love I once felt for him had curdled into a cold, sharp resolve. After I escaped, I didn't run into the night. I walked straight into the national medical awards gala where he was being celebrated, ready to burn his perfect life to the ground on live television.

From Drowning to Darling: A Second Chance

I walked into City Hall, ready to tear up my marriage application. It was over. Hours earlier, I woke up in a hospital bed, my fiancé Aubrey beside me, his face a mask of annoyance. He told me to apologize to Kennedy, the woman who had just pushed me into an icy lake, nearly drowning me. Through the churning water, I had seen Aubrey swim past me, straight to Kennedy, who was faking drowning. He believed her lies, accusing me of attacking her, despite my life-threatening injury. He dismissed my pain, my sacrifice, and my years of loyalty, all for a woman who had betrayed him in the past. He even used my own values against me, telling me to "put others before yourself." I was tired. So incredibly tired. The near-drowning had been a baptism. I finally understood: I could not fix this. I could not win his love. When I returned home, he had already given my precious herbal tea, meant for my chronic pain, to Kennedy. He then demoted me to a guest in my own home, ordering me to cook for her. It was time to burn the last bridge.

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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.

Irresistible Seduction: Married For Deception, Loved For Real

Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

A Favor To My Boss

Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

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.

Unmasking My Shunned Wife: She Hid A Thousand Identities

Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.