Sold by My Own Fiancé to the Mafia DonThe masked man who dragged me into a mafia Don’s bed laughed when I begged him to let me go.
“Please. I have a fiancé.”
“Then forget him.”
His voice sounded familiar.
Afterward, he caught me trying to throw my fiancé’s necklace into the sea.
He opened the pendant. Inside was a childhood photograph.
His own.
The man who had handed me over to another man was the one who’d promised to marry me.Becoming My Best Friend's Alpha Father's Private PropertyOutside, my best friend was sobbing, begging her powerful Alpha father to save my life.
She had no idea that behind the locked door, the Pack Alpha she worshipped wasn't healing me. He was spreading my legs.
"Your inner wolf is broken," he growled, his hot breath brushing my neck. "Only my Alpha essence can fix you."
The doorknob rattled frantically as she cried my name. At that exact second, he thrust brutally deep inside me.
Pleasure and sick shame tore a whimper from my throat, but his massive hand clamped over my mouth, swallowing the sound. Sinking his teeth into my scent gland, he dropped his voice into a dark, feral whisper:
"Shh... take it all. You wouldn't want your best friend to find out what her daddy is doing to you right now, would you?"The Price of a Thousand DaysFor three years, I lifted my paralyzed father, changed his clothes, fed him, and slept beside his bed. When he died at three in the morning, I was the only child there.
My brother arrived asking for the property deed. My sister arrived with perfect makeup and dry eyes. At the will reading, they fought over a city apartment and hundreds of thousands in cash while I sat forgotten in the corner.
They believed the youngest son who had sacrificed a thousand days would receive whatever scraps remained.
Then the attorney reached the final item.
My father had kept a record of every hour, every payment, and every act of care they never saw. The inheritance was not simply money. It was his final judgment on the children who came home only when there was something to divide.
They counted his assets. He counted who stayed.Diamonds for Her, Divorce for HimOn the third day after I gave birth, my husband Marcus told me he had an urgent business trip. He left me alone in the hospital to care for our newborn.
Three days later, just as I was finally being discharged, his childhood friend Sierra posted a photo on Instagram. It was a cozy family portrait: Sierra, her daughter, and my husband smiling beneath the caption, “A happy family of three.”
That same night, she showed off the diamonds he bought her. In the comments, Marcus promised that twenty years from now, he would buy “their daughter” a set too.
Our six-day-old son was crying in my arms.
Marcus had already forgotten he existed.
So when he threatened me with divorce again, I didn’t beg him to stay.
This time, I said yes.
