A Jilted Heart, A Mafia Don's Love

The Unwanted Mate: Her Secret White Wolf Identity

My Alpha husband stood in the hospital room, his eyes cold as ice. He wasn't there to comfort our daughter; he was there to harvest her. "Take her essence," he commanded the doctors without a shred of hesitation. "Timothy needs the transfusion. He is the future Alpha. Your daughter is just a useless runt." I screamed, clutching the hem of his suit, begging him to stop. I tried to tell him that our little Lily wasn't weak—she was a late bloomer because she carried the rare, powerful blood of the White Wolf. But Jaimen didn't care. He used the Alpha Voice to paralyze me. "I command you to silence yourself, Omega." I was forced to stand frozen, a prisoner in my own body, as they drained my three-year-old daughter dry. She died screaming in agony, sacrificed to save Timothy, the sickly son he had with his mistress, Ivanna. With Lily's body still warm on the bed, Jaimen looked at me with pure disgust and severed our mate bond. "I reject you. Get this trash out of my territory." I was dragged out to the borderlands and beaten to death in the mud, clutching a cheap locket, while he celebrated saving his "heir." He didn't know the truth. He didn't know that he had just murdered a prodigy to save a lie. Three years later, he finally ran a DNA test on his beloved Timothy. The results showed zero match to the Alpha line, but a perfect match to a filthy Rogue. That night, the Alpha went mad. And I watched from the afterlife as he slaughtered everyone involved, begging a ghost for forgiveness that would never come.

A Love That Never Was

I was a brilliant scientist, but in my family, I was always the shadow to my perfect, manipulative sister, Jetta. On the day I was set to receive the prestigious Harrison Award, my family was only focused on her graduation party, dismissing my life's work as a mere hobby. That same day, I was brutally attacked in my own lab. The men who did it used Jetta's keycard and sneered that she sent them to "teach me a lesson" and put me in my place. Bleeding out on the cold floor, I made one last desperate call to my fiancé, Hayden. "Stop being so dramatic," he snapped before hanging up. "This is Jetta's big day. Don't you dare ruin it for attention." My mother came downstairs, saw nothing but a mess, and left a voicemail scolding me for being selfish. My soul ripped free from my body, forced to watch them celebrate. I saw the love in Hayden's eyes-not for me, but for Jetta. To them, my death was just another one of my "attention-seeking stunts." Now, as a ghost trapped in my own home, I watch them find my body and slowly piece together their neglect from my journal. But they've overlooked the one thing that will expose it all: the memory pendant around my neck, which recorded every horrifying second of the truth.

A Body Double For His Obsession

I was an artist hired to be a companion for the reclusive billionaire, Kane Miller. I fell in love with the broken man I thought I was saving. Then I discovered the truth. He was secretly recording our intimate moments, only to use deepfake technology to replace my face with my stepsister Coral' s. I wasn't his lover; I was a body double for his obsession. When Coral framed me for assault, Kane didn't just believe her-he watched as his guards beat me. Later, he sent thugs to shatter my right hand, destroying my career as an artist. To protect Coral's reputation before her wedding, he had me thrown in a detention center, coldly calling me a "plaything" he was done with. He destroyed my body, my career, and my heart, all for a woman who was lying to his face. But in that cold cell, I got an offer from the stepfather who had once cast me out. He wanted me to marry a disabled tech heir, Keegan Marks, in exchange for my mother's massive trust fund. I took the deal. I walked out of that jail, left the city, and flew to marry a stranger, finally choosing to escape the man who broke me.

His First Love, My Last Goodbye

The world came back in a blur of twisting metal and the horrifying screech of tires. One moment, we were driving. The next, a truck had run the red light. In the passenger seat, my head throbbing, I watched my boyfriend, Adrian, scramble to comfort his first love, Cassie, who was crying in the backseat. He didn't even glance back at me, his girlfriend of five years, as he helped her out of the wrecked car. Paramedics arrived. Through the haze of pain, I watched Adrian hover over Cassie, refusing to leave her side for a second. It was like I wasn't even there anymore. He didn't remember my birthday, never knew my favorite food, and never cared that I was allergic to the flowers he bought for me, the same ones Cassie loved. I had been a side character in their love story, a placeholder until the real star of his life returned. I had been obsessed with Adrian Payne, but it wasn't love; it was a sickness, a trauma bond I had mistaken for devotion. Why did I do that? Why did I let him mold me into someone so submissive, so unlike myself? It felt like I was being controlled by some invisible force, a plot that wasn't my own. The spell was broken. The obsession vanished. All that was left was a cold, empty feeling and a sudden, desperate longing for someone else: Kellen Campos, my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had left behind five years ago. I booked the first flight to New York.

The Wife He Broke, The Heart He Gave

My five-year-old son, Liam, suffered severe brain damage from an allergic reaction. A car accident left me with shattered ribs and a new heart beating in my chest. My husband, Mark, seemed broken by our tragedy. Then, I overheard his phone call. "Olivia, it's done. Liam is no longer a problem. The accident went perfectly. They said her heart was a match for you. It was almost too easy." I was paralyzed. He planned it all. He fed Liam peanuts, knowing his fatal allergy. He orchestrated my crash to get my heart for his mistress, Olivia. We were pawns, obstacles to be removed so his son, Ethan, could inherit everything. Mark walked in, feigning concern. He even asked me to give blood for Olivia, whose body was rejecting my heart. He dragged me out of bed, ignoring my weakness and bleeding hand. He was draining my son too. I fainted from blood loss. Mark then suggested we place Liam in a facility and "adopt" Ethan. But in his monstrous suggestion, I saw my escape. His phone was left behind. His password was Ethan's birthday. I found a video: Olivia giving Ethan peanut crackers and pointing to Liam. It was deliberate. I forwarded the video, emailed my friend, a neurosurgeon in Switzerland, and deleted the history. I bundled Liam and slipped out. I mailed divorce papers and the USB with the video to Mark's office. "I'm leaving, Mark," I told him, then hung up. Mark eventually found Liam's room empty. The nurse, witnessing Olivia's manipulative act, showed Mark security footage of Olivia pinching Ethan and falsely blaming me. Mark erupted. He threw Olivia out, showering them with cash, telling them he never wanted to see them again. I landed in Zurich, found freedom with Liam. The news came: Mark suffered a severe spinal injury in an accident, paralyzed. He left everything to me for Liam. I founded a non-profit for children with brain injuries. Liam thrived, discovering a gift for piano. Then, my transplanted heart began to fail. I was preparing for the end, writing birthday letters for Liam. Ben burst in: "We found one! A perfect match. A directed donation from a patient in the States." It was Mark. He had arranged it, his ultimate atonement. He had his life support removed. I watched his final message, then deleted the file. A new heart. A new life. Our new life.

The Loyal Dog Becomes A Lion

"The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them." Olivia's voice was cold. After ten years as her "invisible husband," a signed contract, and a son I raised as my own, our arrangement was finally over. But the finality hit differently when I saw the new portrait on the grand staircase: Olivia, radiant, linking arms with Daniel Clark, and beside them, my son Leo, beaming up at Daniel with an adoration he never showed me. Daniel was back, and I was erased. They made it clear I was nothing more than a paid service. Mrs. Hayes, Olivia's mother, sneered, "Olivia, out of the kindness of her heart, has secured you a position at a mid-level tech firm. It's more than you deserve." A dismissal, a final pat for the loyal dog. Then, at the mall, the ultimate betrayal. Leo recoiled from me, screaming, "He's not my dad! I want Daniel to be my dad!" Daniel, with a fake sympathetic smile, put his arm around Leo, while Olivia silently condoned it. It wasn't just my marriage ending; it was my fatherhood, too. The words didn't cause sharp pain; it was a dull, heavy thud, as if something inside me finally died. Ten years of sacrifice, of unrequited love, meant nothing. Why had I poured every ounce of myself into a family that saw me only as a placeholder, a loyal dog? What even was I to them? I signed the divorce papers, a final and clean break. That night, I collected the few remnants of my life-my coding projects, my mother's photo-and walked away, leaving behind the gilded cage, ready for a new beginning, a life where I wasn't just a service, but a man finally choosing to live for himself.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen

Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her. On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back. Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city. Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him. "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance." She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married."

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

My Lover, His Father

"Eve," he called, placing wet inhumane kisses on my neck as his strong but warm hands held my tiny waist. I closed my eyes. "Yes...sir?" I moaned helplessly, feeling the harsh tingles in between my legs. "Eve," he called again, trailing wet kisses towards my ear. "Ad....Adrian," I breathed. "What am I doing?" he asked, nibbling my ear lobe. "Touching....touching me?" "I shouldn't be touching you," he said, exploring my neck like a thirsty vampire. "I....i want you to," I stuttered shamelessly. He wrapped my neck with his hand, choking me slightly. Oh, heavens. "My son is crazy about you," he said, gripping me tightly. "I don't want him," I whispered, taking in his wicked kisses on my neck. "You should. And.......I have a wife." ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Evelyn (Eve) Millers, a twenty-year-old college first-year student and the only child of her wealthy parents, is a lover of mafia romance stories. She dreams of a love life with a mafia boss, but a night of tragedy changed her reality in a way she never expected, tossing her life in danger until she fell into the safe hands of her college mate, Mario Morelli, a guy whom she rejected his pure advances but eventually found out he is from a mafia family. He took her to his home where she met his huge family, most especially his HOT but dangerous-looking father, Adrian Morelli, the mafia DON. Have her wishes come true? What will she do about a wish coming true but owned by another and backed with great obstacles?

Rebirth of the Mafia Mistress

My fiancé Jaret Frazier promised to protect me on my nineteenth birthday. By the next year, he had married a Mafia Princess for power and locked me in a hidden apartment as his secret mistress. When his new wife discovered I was pregnant, she didn't file for divorce. She sent her enforcers to my bedside. They held me down while a back-alley butcher tore my unborn son from my womb. Jaret never came to save me. For ten years, I rotted in that gilded cage, watching him use my money to become an Underboss while I faded into a ghost. I died alone, completely erased. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in my own bed, unscarred, the calendar turned back to the year my life was destroyed. Jaret was still just my fiancé, not yet my jailer. And this time, I wouldn't be the one who ended up in a cage.