His Betrayal Forged My Ruthless Soul
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."
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Chapter 5
Alessia POV:
"Get on your knees and apologize to your sister right now!" Marco's roar echoed through the lavish Beverly Hills banquet hall, the sheer volume of his voice making the crystal chandelier above us vibrate.
That was Marco Salinas. A dictator in his own home. In this family, I was always the guilty party, the one who had to bend, the one with no bottom line.
Chiara stood a few feet away. Her eyelashes fluttered violently. Her knees suddenly gave out, and she collapsed backward.
It was her favorite survival tactic. Whenever she played the weak victim, I was the one who bled for it.
Dante's body reacted before his brain did. His long arm shot out, his muscles contracting as he caught Chiara by the waist. Seven years of protecting her had turned his responses into pure muscle memory.
Chiara rested her head against Dante's solid chest. She let out a pained gasp, squeezing two pathetic tears from the corners of her eyes.
Isabella let out a shrill scream. She grabbed the hem of her haute couture gown and lunged toward Chiara.
She shoved me out of her way. The force of Isabella's hands hitting my shoulders made my heels stumble against the thick Persian rug. She had never looked at me as a human being. To her, I was just a mobile blood bank.
I steadied myself. I did not lower my head. I did not apologize. Seven years of my people-pleasing persona died right there on that expensive rug. I just stared at the circus in front of me with a cold gaze.
Marco marched up to me. He raised his right hand, the air whistling as his palm swung toward my face.
I raised my arm. My fingers clamped down on his wrist with precise, brutal force. My knuckles turned white.
Marco's eyes widened in shock. He tried to yank his arm back, but his pampered muscles were no match for the strength I had built in secret.
I let out a short, cold laugh. I twisted my grip and shoved his arm away. Marco stumbled backward, his hip crashing into the edge of the dining table.
The surrounding California socialites gasped. The room filled with the buzzing sound of their disdainful whispers.
Dante handed Chiara over to Isabella. His face darkened as he closed the distance between us. His towering frame blocked the light, his mafia aura sucking the oxygen out of the air.
"Stop acting crazy," Dante warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Apologize to your elders right now."
He was so used to controlling everything. He actually thought my rebellion was just a desperate plea for his attention.
I tilted my head up. I met his deep blue eyes, my gaze completely empty of the love that used to live there.
I reached out. My movements were slow, deliberate, and entirely provocative. I grabbed the knot of his silk tie and adjusted it.
Dante froze. His chest stopped moving for a full second. A complicated emotion flickered in his eyes at the sudden intimacy.
I leaned in close to his ear.
"You hold a liar in your arms and treat her like a treasure," I whispered, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. "You are just a pathetic blind man."
Dante's pupils contracted violently. His breath hitched, and his hand twitched, reaching out to grab my arm.
I sidestepped smoothly, avoiding his touch. I turned my back on him and walked toward the massive carved wooden doors of the hall.
"Sister," Chiara called out weakly from behind me, her voice dripping with fake forgiveness.
I did not stop walking. I did not even grant them a glance over my shoulder.
Two Salinas bodyguards stepped into my path, using their bulk to block the exit.
I opened my clutch. I pulled out a silver switchblade. The metal snapped open with a sharp click, the blade catching the chandelier's light. It was the weapon I carried when I lived in the slums, the weapon I needed again today.
The bodyguards looked at my eyes. They saw the absolute lack of hesitation in my stare. They stepped aside.
I pushed the heavy doors open. The cold Los Angeles night wind rushed into the stifling hall, hitting my face.
Dante stood frozen in the center of the room. I could hear his breathing turn ragged as a sudden panic gripped his throat.
I paused at the threshold. I turned my head slightly, letting the cold wind whip my hair across my face.
"Dante, go to hell with your fools."
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7.2
Betrayed by her sister. Killed by her husband.
Reborn, Sarah returns with one goal-revenge.
This time, she won't be the fool.
And with the Knox, the most dangerous man by her side...
she'll ruin them all, and take back everything that belongs to her.
Promotional line: They killed me once. This time, I'll destroy them first.
8.6
Lilac Stone once wanted nothing more than being unnoticed. But everything changed the moment she met Adrian Cole, the new lecturer.
He's distant and completely off-limits. She's quiet, guarded, and unprepared for the way he sees right through her.
What begins as harmless conversations after class quickly turns into something far more dangerous-something neither of them can stop no matter how hard they try.
But then they're living in a world where rules are meant to be followed, and their connection is one line they were never supposed to cross.
Whispers turn to accusations. Secrets are exposed. Their futures are at risk.
They are merely two opposites-a lecturer and a student, a male and a female-but they are bound to destroy each other as long as they are huddled in one space at the same time.
What then can they choose: forfeit their futures and embrace their happiness, or let the latter slip while keeping their careers intact?
8.9
He bought her life to pay for her lover's betrayal... but he was not supposed to become obsessed with her.
Ivy is dragged into the underground compound of the Devil's Saints motorcycle club to face their most brutal enforcer. Cole is ordered to break her and find the stolen millions. But Ivy does not scream, and she does not beg. She watches him with a heavy, calculating silence that gets under his skin and makes him question the club he swore to protect. He was supposed to ruin her. So why is he the only one standing between her and a loaded gun?
He was ordered to ruin her for a betrayal she did not commit.
Locked in the underground vault of a violent motorcycle club, Ivy is forced into the custody of their most lethal enforcer. Cole is a man built on cold punishment and ruthless loyalty, tasked with breaking her to find their stolen millions. But instead of begging, her heavy, unyielding silence sparks a dark, forbidden obsession the enforcer cannot fight.
He was supposed to be her executioner. He was never meant to become the man willing to burn his own brotherhood to the ground just to claim her.
9.6
was a witness to a murder I wasn't supposed to see. I expected a bullet; I got a golden cage."
Ivy Thorne is a nobody-a struggling cellist with a mountain of medical bills and a past she can't remember. Her life changes in a heartbeat when she witnesses Kaelen Volkov, the Mafia's most lethal enforcer, executing a traitor in a dark alley.
She should be dead. But Kaelen doesn't pull the trigger. Instead, he sees the star-shaped birthmark on her neck and makes a choice that will ignite a war. To save her from his father's wrath, he claims her as his own.
Now, Ivy is trapped in a world of blood and silk, forced to play the role of Kaelen's devoted fiancée. He's cold, scarred, and dangerous, yet he treats her like a priceless treasure he's been waiting years to reclaim. As the lines between her fear and her desire begin to blur, Ivy realizes that Kaelen isn't just protecting her from the Mafia-he's hiding a secret about her past that could shatter her world.
In the Volkov empire, loyalty is everything and debt is paid in blood. But for Ivy, the highest price might be her heart.
7.1
Jenna lay dying in the ICU, kept alive by a ventilator.
Her twenty-year-old twins walked in wearing designer clothes, looking at her with pure disgust.
Before Jenna could even reach out, Arthur stepped back.
"Don't touch me. You'll ruin my jacket."
Clio shoved a photo in Jenna's face, revealing their billionaire father was marrying someone else next week.
They told Jenna she was a penniless nobody, nothing but a cheap incubator for the Knight family heirs.
Then, checking his luxury watch, Arthur complained they were going to be late for a charity gala.
Smiling coldly, he reached out and unplugged her life support.
Jenna suffocated in agony, watching her own children walk away without looking back.
As the heart monitor flatlined, she swore a blood oath. If she ever got another chance, she would make them bleed.
When she opened her eyes again, she was back fifteen years in the past.
Her five-year-old son was kicking her bed, screaming at her to make his pancakes.
The trauma of her death ignited into pure, freezing rage. She finally understood that to this family, she was just livestock.
This time, Jenna didn't drop to her knees to coax him.
She dragged the brat over her knee and slapped him hard.
She demanded a divorce, escaped her locked mansion using torn bedsheets, and ran into the dark.
Finding a bleeding, heavily armed military operative hiding from assassins, Jenna pressed her hands against his wound.
"I get you out of this kill zone. In exchange, you protect me."
9.1
Aries Mathis stared at the glowing projector screen, his blood running completely cold.
For two years, he thought his mentor and former captain, Elias Beck, had simply left for a massive signing bonus in Europe.
But the financial report in front of him revealed a much sicker truth.
Elias had secretly sold Aries' contract to the highest bidder, packaging his own prodigy up like a commodity to line his pockets before abandoning him.
Now, Elias was back in North America, building a new esports empire from scratch.
The betrayal crushed Aries, turning his devastation into a blinding, toxic rage. He spiraled into a self-destructive frenzy, publicly executing Elias's new players in official matches, terrorizing them until their hands physically shook.
He hated Elias with every fiber of his being, yet the gaping hole in his chest screamed with agonizing confusion.
Why did the man who once saved him from the streets throw him away like a stray dog?
Driven to the edge, Aries cornered Elias at a VIP club, lining up ten shot glasses on a table.
"One is pure, high-proof whiskey. The rest are iced tea."
Aries sneered, knowing Elias had a severe stomach ulcer that could put him in the hospital.
"Pick the whiskey, and I sign with your new team for free."
Elias looked at Aries' broken eyes, reached out, and swallowed the liquid in one gulp.
There was no burn. All ten glasses were sweet iced tea.
As Aries fled the club in a blind panic, Elias smiled, pulling out his phone to text his lawyer.
"Liquidate my personal portfolio. I am bringing him home."