Jiuye Fenglin

I grew up with four mafia heirs, taking a sacred blood oath at ten years old that we would never abandon each other. I was supposed to be their Mafia Queen. But the moment a fragile, trembling girl named Lyra appeared, they threw me away. To give her my Ivy League slot, my fiancé Damian forced me to sign a permanent defection contract to the freezing North. When Lyra cried fake tears and framed me for stealing, the four men I loved didn't hesitate to turn on me. They violently twisted my arms, tore my room apart, and permanently deleted all my childhood videos—the only memories I had left of my dead parents. "You do not exist in this Family anymore," Damian threatened coldly. My heart died in that exact moment. I had turned down prestigious Northern commissions twice just to stay by their side, sacrificing my dreams for our vow, only to be erased without a single question. When the armored extraction vehicle arrived, I calmly took off my promise ring and threw away our blood oath crest. I crossed the border and permanently severed our bond without looking back. Five years later, when the future Don knelt in the dirt begging me to come home, I looked at him with absolute indifference. "What is given away is no longer wanted."

For ten years, I suppressed my supreme royal White Wolf bloodline, enduring the humiliation of being called a "wolfless" genetic defect just to stay by my fated mate, billionaire Alpha Harden. But today, Cathey, the woman who pretended to be his fragile savior, threw herself down our marble stairs and framed me for the push. Harden didn't even question it. He unleashed his suffocating Alpha Command, forcing me to my knees until my head slammed into the iron railing. His spoiled sister shoved me into shattered porcelain, slicing my hand open while laughing at my pathetic state. When Grandma Vivienne collapsed from the shock, Harden only cared about carrying his fake savior to the clinic, leaving me lying in a pool of my own blood. "You will kneel by her bed and beg for forgiveness, or you'll be thrown onto the streets like a stray dog!" I touched the jagged silver scar on my shoulder—the real fatal wound I took for him a decade ago, an honor Cathey had stolen while I was in a coma. My ten years of blind obsession instantly turned to ash. How could the man I almost died for be so utterly blind and cruel? I didn't cry or cower anymore. I calmly signed the Mate-Bond Termination Agreement and bypassed the pack's security firewalls to contact my people. "Get the safe house ready. I'm severing the bond tomorrow." This time, I was going to ruin his empire, expose his fake savior, and return to my throne as the supreme Alpha Princess.

I was the Alpha's Fated Mate, but for five years, Jerrod treated me like invisible trash while showering my adoptive sister with love. When a pack of crazed Rogues attacked us, my mate didn't hesitate. He shifted into his massive dire wolf form and shielded my sister, leaving me completely exposed to the lethal claws. I was torn apart and left bleeding out on the cold pavement while he frantically comforted her fake tears. I barely survived thanks to a passing Alpha. But when I dragged my broken body back to the pack, my sister deliberately poured hot potion on her own arm to frame me. My adoptive parents and the Pack Elders dragged me to the council hall. They stripped me of my only sanctuary and ordered me to publicly kneel and repent to the Moon Goddess for my "infidelity." I looked at the people who were supposed to be my family and my mate. They watched me with cold, satisfied eyes, willing to drive me to my death just to protect a lying hypocrite. The sacred mate bond I once cherished was nothing but a sickening joke. I didn't kneel to the Goddess. I knelt facing the door, severing the last thread of affection I had for this hellhole. "From this day forward, my life or death is no longer yours." I stood up and walked away, vowing to return all this pain to them a thousand times over.

In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire. I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter. I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm. When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake. I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance? Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago. "Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger." My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter. This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity. I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.

Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle. She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running. Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic. But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died. For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive. But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night. He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined. Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired. "If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets." Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline. Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son. The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay. But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket. Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke. She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes. "Keep your dirty money." She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.

Ten years ago, her family was destroyed. Alya Rivas broke off her engagement with Archer Garcia and fled without a word.Ten years later, she returns to the capital, hoping to live quietly in the shadows-only to run straight into him, now a man of immense power and influence. He traps her in his world, his eyes dark with obsession and possession:"You ran for ten years. Now it's time you came back."Old grudges linger, old love burns bright. In this glittering, cold capital, nights will no longer let her rest.

My husband, Deegan, plunged a needle into my heavily pregnant belly. He said it was a mild sedative to "slow things down." The truth was a brutal betrayal. His brother's widow, Karmen, was also due, and her son had to be born first to secure the family inheritance. He was sacrificing our child for money. He locked me in a panic room, leaving me to suffer through agonizing contractions alone. His sister found me, not to help, but to kick me and let her venomous snake sink its fangs into my arm. As I lay bleeding out, my baby dying inside me, he had all the life-saving medical equipment moved to Karmen's private clinic, leaving me with nothing. He called me a manipulative actress, a gold-digger trying to steal the inheritance. The man who swore to protect me left me to die on a cold floor, choosing a birthright over his own child. But I didn't die. My billionaire father saved me, and I was reborn from the ashes of my grief. Years later, when Deegan stormed into my boardroom, convinced he could drag his "dead" wife home, I looked at the pathetic man he'd become. I slowly pulled the wedding ring from my finger and let it fall to the floor. "The woman who loved you died that night."

I thought my partner Brayden and I were building an empire together. He was my rock, my partner in life and business, the man who understood my ambition to save my family's restaurant. But one night, I woke up to his laughter mixed with another, sickeningly familiar voice-my little sister, Holly. They weren't just having an affair. I listened from the shadows as they plotted to steal my restaurant, my recipes, and my entire life's work. They mocked my dreams of starting a family, dreams Brayden had always dismissed with me. Holly was pregnant with his child, and they planned to rebrand my legacy as their own, leaving me with nothing. The two people I trusted most weren't just stealing my future; they were erasing my past. They saw me as a fool, too blinded by loyalty to see their betrayal. They were right about one thing: the Clare they knew was about to disappear. But not in the way they expected. I made a call to a controversial neuroscientist, ready to undergo an experimental procedure to erase my memory, change my identity, and orchestrate their complete and utter ruin.

I gave up a life in London for my high school sweetheart, Blake Shaw. He repaid me by leaving me to be trampled by a panicked crowd while he saved another girl. That was just the beginning. His obsession with being a hero to the fragile transfer student, Kris Gray, became a slow poison. He abandoned me during dates, gave me food I was deathly allergic to, and ignored my screams for help when I was assaulted. Each time he chose her, it was another cut, until I was raw and bleeding. The end came when he believed her most vicious lie. He looked at me with cold certainty as he called the police, framing me for a crime I didn't commit. I watched from the back of the cop car as he held her, the hero protecting his damsel from the monster he had made me into. My love didn't just break that day; it turned to dust. My family wiped the charges and put me on the next jet to London. I never looked back. Until now. Five years later, I'm back, and Blake is about to learn that some choices come with consequences you can never outrun.

After two years of brutal IVF treatments, I finally held a positive pregnancy test in my hand. I was the brains behind our billion-dollar tech company, and this baby was meant to be my greatest joint venture with my husband, Harden. Then an anonymous text arrived. It was a video of Harden kissing an Instagram model, his hand high on her thigh. A second text followed: a bank statement showing he'd stolen millions from our company to pay for her. I decided to go to the company gala and use my pregnancy to save us. But his mistress, Celine, showed up first, also claiming to be pregnant. In front of everyone, my mother-in-law embraced her, calling her the true mother of the next heir. She gave Celine the family necklace she had refused to let me wear on my own wedding day. Later, Celine shoved me. I fell, and a searing pain shot through my abdomen. I was bleeding on the ground, losing our miracle baby. I begged Harden for help. He glanced at me, annoyed. "Stop being so dramatic," he said, before turning his back to comfort his mistress. But as my world went dark, another man ran to my side. My biggest rival, Atticus Rios. He was the one who scooped me into his arms and raced me to the hospital. When I woke up, the baby gone and my world in ashes, he was still there. He looked at me and made an offer. An alliance. A chance to take everything from the men who wronged us and burn their empires to the ground.

The rain fell on my daughter Lily' s tiny coffin. She was only six. I looked for my wife, Sarah, but she wasn' t there; everyone said she was overcome with grief. But when I returned home, I heard her voice from the patio. She was smiling, talking to her ex-boyfriend Mark, purring, "It's done now. She's gone. Her birth was an accident anyway. A mistake that tied me down for six years." Then, she uttered the words that shattered my world forever: "The trip to Switzerland wasn't for some new miracle treatment... It was for euthanasia. It was quicker that way. Cleaner." Just hours after burying our child, Sarah and Mark were laughing in my living room, celebrating her death as "a special occasion." The house, once a home, now felt like a tomb of lies. My daughter' s room was eerily empty, every trace of her existence erased, as if she had never lived. I was living in a nightmare. My wife, the mother of my child, betrayed and murdered our daughter, then tried to erase her memory from our home. The woman I loved was a monster, celebrating her freedom from a child she called a "burden." A cold resolve filled me. I packed Lily' s few remaining treasures, left Sarah and her lover, and drove to our secret clubhouse. I wouldn't let her erase Lily. This wasn't over. My fight for justice for my daughter, for her legacy, had just begun.

I died in Montana, exiled to a sanatorium by my husband, the President, who called me "unstable" because a broken heart dared to challenge his polished image. One moment I was staring at a cracked ceiling, the next I was a ghost, bound to my husband, Julian, watching him sign documents in the Oval Office, oblivious to my spectral presence. He had no idea I was dead, no idea I was trapped, a silent witness to his new life with Savannah Reed, his predatory mistress, who now occupied my White House, my roles, and even my family's legacy. My very existence was being systematically erased – my name scorned, my achievements dismissed, and soon, even my beloved son Leo's resting place was threatened by their callous ambition. How could the man I built, the man I loved, betray me so completely, framing me for a scandal I never committed, mocking my grief, and now plotting to defile our son's memory? But even in death, a truth demands to be heard, and soon, the empire Julian built on lies began to crumble, promising a reckoning that would either free my soul or drag him into the abyss he created.

My last memory was the smell of ancient celluloid in a 21st-century archive, then a sharp chest pain. I woke up to the stench of gin and stale perfume, trapped in a stranger's body, in 1920s Chicago. My own mother, a faded vaudeville dancer, sold me to a notorious gang boss, Artie Gallo, for a sapphire cloche hat. I found a flicker of connection with Leo, the kind projectionist, and risked everything to steal medicine for the starving poor. But when Artie discovered our secret, Leo, the only person I' d dared to trust, pointed a trembling finger at me. "She made me do it." The betrayal was a physical blow, worse than the whip that lashed my back in Artie's cursed cellar. They threw me back in my room, broken and left to fester. The film, my last connection to my old life, gone with him. My body healed, but my soul was twisted into something cold and hard. How could he? How could the one pure thing I found in this nightmare turn out to be the cruelest blade? When I finally emerged, adorned in garish makeup and a deceptively sweet smile, the old Clara was gone. I would become the woman Artie wanted, the woman this brutal world demanded. And I would make sure everyone who ever wronged me paid the price, even if it meant burying every last piece of my humanity.

My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar. I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud. Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me. He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad. The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining. Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self. My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger. Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine? Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?" My breath caught. My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever. The game was about to change.

Ever since her boyfriend died in a car accident, Lavender found herself falling into the abyss of desperation. But everything changed after her graduation when she got a job in an international corporation. The first time she met Wesley, the CEO of her company, her jaw dropped. He looked identical to her late boyfriend and even had the same voice and mannerisms. Was it just chance that had brought her to his company? What were the true colors of this devil CEO? Where will the story of Lavender and Wesley go next?

Catherine loved Marco with all her heart. Until she discovered that he had betrayed her with her own sister. Instead of defending Catherine, her family blamed her for standing in the way of their happiness. To them, she was nothing more than an unwanted daughter who had ruined the love story between Marco and the sister they had always favored. So Catherine gave them exactly what they wanted. She gave up Marco. She gave up the family that had never truly seen her as one of their own. Just when she thought her life couldn't get any worse, her parents sold her for twenty thousand dollars to an old, ugly man who had already been married once. Catherine thought her life was over. Then a stranger appeared and offered her a way out. His name was Lorenzo. He offered Catherine a contract marriage. He needed a wife. She needed protection. It seemed like a simple arrangement, and Catherine never expected it to change her life forever.Because she didn't know who Lorenzo really was. To the world, Lorenzo was a ruthless billionaire and the heir to one of the country's most powerful business empires. Behind closed doors, he was far more dangerous. He was the heir to a Mafia dynasty, a man who controlled an empire built on blood, fear, and absolute power. When Lorenzo offered Catherine a marriage of convenience, she accepted without hesitation. He needed a wife. She needed protection. Neither of them wanted love. At least, that was what they told themselves. But after Catherine became Mrs. Romano, Lorenzo's rules began to change. He wanted to know where she went, who she spoke to, and which man dared look at her for too long. The more Catherine tried to keep their marriage strictly business, the more possessive Lorenzo became. He no longer wanted a temporary wife. He wanted Catherine completely. Then Marco finally realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life and came back for her. He expected Catherine to still be the woman who waited for him, forgave him, and accepted whatever affection he was willing to offer. But Catherine was no longer that woman. The daughter her family discarded had become the wife of the most dangerous man in the underworld. And Lorenzo Romano would burn the world down before he let anyone take his wife away.

While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son. Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate. An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir. Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack. Dante didn't even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her. He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall. Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me. I heard him promise her, "Soon, my love. I'll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve." The love I felt for him, the power I'd hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice. He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent. And I was finally going home.

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."

I was happily pregnant through IVF, thinking I had finally built a perfect life with my billionaire husband, Dante. Then, an anonymous photo led me to a hidden drawer in his study, where I found a vasectomy confirmation dated a full year before we even started trying for a baby. My world shattered when I went to his office for answers and overheard him talking to his assistant. "This marriage, this child... it's all a sacrifice. I needed the perfect substitute to build up and destroy, just to prove my loyalty to Elara." The painful IVF injections, my precious pregnancy, our entire marriage—it was all a meticulously crafted performance for his childhood sweetheart. He even planned to publicly humiliate me at an upcoming gala as a welcome gift for her return. I wept for the years I had wasted and for my innocent unborn child, conceived merely as a pawn in their sick, twisted game. They thought they could discard me like trash because they believed I was just a helpless orphan with no one to turn to. But they didn't know I had spent the last three years hiding my true identity for the sake of this marriage. Wiping away my tears, I picked up my phone and called my father, the most feared underground king in the world.

I was sold to pay off my father's debt. But instead of freedom, I found myself owned by a monster in a suit. Emilia never expected her life to be torn apart overnight. Quiet, soft-spoken, and painfully naïve, she was handed over like a transaction, to the most feared Mafia Lord in the city. Lucien Moretti is powerful, ruthless, and cold as ice. He doesn't need her love, just her obedience. But Emilia isn't prepared for the way his eyes burn when someone else touches her. Or the way her heart races when he lowers his walls, if only for a second. Everyone says Lucien has no soul. But monsters don't protect girls like her. And they definitely don't bleed. As secrets unravel and blood debts resurface, Emilia must decide: is Lucien her captor... or her only chance at survival? In a world of betrayal and danger, she was sold to the devil. But the devil might just be falling for her.

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.

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."

One wardrobe malfunction. Two people who don't belong together. Three awful "Be my wife." Everyone else is at this party to marry the host. I'm only here until I can get a ride home. When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction, I go find somewhere quiet to fix it. So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when, As my luck would have it, the door opens... And the man of the hour walks in. I wish I could say I played it cool. But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit... Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on. All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers. But Ivan has other ideas. He's decided who he's taking to the altar... And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."

My father arranged a marriage for my half-sister, Emmalee, with Don Damian Griffith, the ruthless "King of New York." But Emmalee, in love with a penniless lawyer, refused and, weeping, pointed at me, the illegitimate daughter, offering me as the sacrifice. My stepmother packed cheap plastic pearls and copper chains, and my father coldly told me to "bleed quietly" if the Don decided to cut me. "Don't think you've won, Isabell," Emmalee hissed, handing me a shimmering emerald gown, the signature color of the Don's volatile mistress-a clear death trap. Why did my own family want me dead? As the armored car pulled away, I dumped the green silk, put on a dress of pure ivory, and fastened our family's stolen midnight-blue sapphires around my neck. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter, but I was walking into the lion's den with a hidden blade.

She entered his world as prey. Now, she's learning to bite back. After her mother's death, Annabelle Gracia seeks fragile solace in the flower shop-until her father trades her to Antonioni D'Angélo, the ruthless mafia billionaire known as The Shadow King. Nights with him burn with pain, pleasure, and control. His coldness shields a heart hunted by a dangerous fraternity, one that will not forgive tenderness-love is a risk he cannot afford. Yet desire refuses to be silenced. In their world, love is weakness, and weakness could destroy them both. Antonioni is not just another mafia heir; he is a force who commands the world's shadows. Beyond the empire most will never see: high-stakes deals in European marketplaces, clandestine arms trades, and the quiet power of a man who moves money, influence, and danger across continents. Once fragile, she rises. No longer a pawn, she becomes his fiercest ally and mafia queen, his quiet hope. But betrayal is never far, and enemies wait in the shadows. When Nora, the daughter of one of their deadliest rivals, enters their world, alliances shatter, and danger multiplies. In a world ruled by secrets and scars, can love save them... or destroy them?