Left For Dead, I Returned A Queen
My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over.
It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up.
When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.
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Chapter 2
Annis POV
We never made it to the safe house.
Instead, we had ended up at a cheap airport hotel on the outskirts of the city. I was trembling, sitting on the edge of the sagging mattress, clutching my bag like a lifeline. Haven was pacing the narrow space, his phone pressed tight to his ear as he tried to arrange a flight.
Then, the door didn't just open; it exploded inward.
I didn't even have time to scream. Two of Dominick's soldiers filled the small room, blocking out the hallway light. Haven moved to intercept them, his reflexes sharp, but he was hopelessly outnumbered.
One of them slammed the butt of a pistol into Haven's temple with a sickening crack.
He hit the carpet instantly, unconscious before he even landed.
"No!" I screamed, lunging for him.
Strong hands grabbed me from behind, halting my movement with bruising force. I smelled expensive cologne mixed with the sharp tang of gunpowder.
Dominick.
He spun me around, his fingers digging into my arms. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding fury.
"You think you can just walk away?" he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You think you can just leave with him?"
He dragged me out of the room, stepping over Haven's unconscious body as if he were nothing more than trash on the sidewalk. He threw me into the back of his armored SUV with enough force to knock the wind out of me.
"Drive," he ordered the driver.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice trembling so hard the words barely formed.
"Home," he said, staring straight ahead. "But we aren't going to the house. We're going to the clinic."
"Why?"
"Chastity is hemorrhaging," he said. His voice was devoid of emotion, completely detached and clinical. "The stress of your little stunt caused complications. She's losing blood."
I stared at his profile, horrified. "What does that have to do with me?"
"She has a rare blood type, Annis. B-negative." He finally looked at me then, his eyes empty. "Just like you."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, erratic rhythm. It wasn't just fear. It was the arrhythmia I had lived with since childhood. A condition Dominick knew about. A condition that made giving blood dangerous, potentially fatal.
"I can't," I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest. "You know I can't. My heart... Dr. Evans said my iron levels are too low. It could trigger a cardiac event."
Dominick looked at me. He didn't see a wife. He didn't even see a human being. He saw a spare part.
"She is carrying my son," he said coldly. "You will give her whatever she needs."
We arrived at the private family clinic minutes later. It smelled of antiseptic and old money. They dragged me into a prep room. Chastity was in the next room, wailing about pain, though her voice sounded strong enough to me.
The family doctor, Dr. Evans, looked pale when Dominick shoved me into the chair.
"Mr. Reyes," he stammered, looking between us. "Mrs. Reyes's chart... her heart condition. A transfusion of this magnitude is risky. She could go into shock."
"Do it," Dominick commanded.
I grabbed Dominick's arm, my fingers desperate.
"If I do this," I said, my voice shaking. "If I save your mistress and your bastard... you let me go."
Dominick looked down at me. He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips.
"You're in no position to bargain, Annis. But fine. Give the blood, and we'll discuss your vacation."
He was lying. I knew he was lying. But I had no choice.
The nurse inserted the needle. I watched my dark red blood flow through the tube, leaving me to sustain the woman who had destroyed my life.
I felt the cold creep in immediately. My chest felt heavy, like a stone was sitting on my sternum, crushing the air out of my lungs.
"Slow down the draw," Dr. Evans warned, his eyes on the monitors. "Her pulse is dropping."
"Keep going," Dominick said from the doorway. He was watching the monitor in Chastity's room, not me.
The room started to spin. Grey spots danced in my vision, obscuring the harsh fluorescent lights. My heart fluttered-a bird trapped in a cage, beating its wings against the bars in a panic.
"Dominick," I whispered, my head feeling impossibly heavy. "I... I don't feel good."
He didn't turn around.
"Chastity's stats are stabilizing," a nurse called out from the other room.
"Good," Dominick said.
My head lolled back against the chair. The beeping of my heart monitor grew erratic. Fast. Then slow. Then painfully slow.
"Mr. Reyes!" the doctor shouted, panic rising in his voice. "She's crashing!"
I saw Dominick turn then. I saw a flicker of annoyance on his face, as if my dying was merely an inconvenience to his evening.
"Stop the draw!" the doctor yelled.
The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Dominick walking out of the room to go hold Chastity's hand.
I closed my eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I hoped I wouldn't wake up.
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9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.
7.4
I thought my life was over when my sister died, leaving me to raise her two babies in a world that wanted to swallow us whole. Then I made the mistake of a lifetime: I left a bold, humiliating voicemail for the one man I should have feared most.
Anton Oryolov.
The ruthless king of the Oryolov Bratva. A billionaire monster who rules the city with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.
I expected him to fire me. I expected him to destroy me. Instead, he gave me a choice that felt like a death sentence: sign a contract and become his.
The rules were simple. I belong to him. I live in his shadows. In exchange, he protects the children. But as the doors of his mansion locked behind me, I realized the "forced proximity" wasn't just a business arrangement. It was a cage.
He thinks he can use me as a pawn in his dark mafia games. He thinks the children are just leverage to keep me in line. But he's starting to look at me with a hunger that isn't in the contract, and I'm seeing a man beneath the monster that I never expected to find.
In the Cruel Paradise of the Bratva, loyalty is a lie and love is a weakness. Our deal is signed in ink, but it's going to end in blood.
He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now, he wants my soul.
8.5
"And that is the reason why I said those words. I like your fear, not because it is a normal thing. I love it because deep down you are a monster like me, schiava. You fear me on a primal level, you can feel my power and dominance, and you know you aren't the strongest here. So you don't fear Renzo Valentino the human, you fear the monster that lurks inside."
My life changed the night of my birthday. What started as a funny dare ended with blood and having a price on my head.
I thought Renzo was the hero who saved me that night, but he was the devil who owned me forever.
I, Misha Yakov, princess of the Russian mafia became Renzo Valentino's slave.
He broke me, tortured me, and molded me into something new, something I hated and craved at the same time.
I, Misha Yakov became my master's pet.
8.5
went to sleep a nobody. I woke up a Queen.
One night I was just a broke, exhausted college girl. The next, I opened my eyes in silk sheets, with strangers bowing and calling me Luna Queen. The face in the mirror is mine. The body is mine. But the life isn't. The bruises on my wrists tell a story I don't remember, and the King I'm bound to doesn't love me-he loathes me.
They whisper that his mistress rules the palace. They say the Queen was weak. Silent. Broken. But that was before me.
Now I must survive a palace that wants me dead, a King whose touch burns as much as it scars, and a kingdom waiting for me to fail. The old Luna Queen bowed to cruelty.
I am not her.
And if this King thinks I'll kneel, he's about to learn what a true Queen is made of.
7.8
Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt.
Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay.
The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny.
Then came the betrayal.
On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack.
"Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment."
Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed.
Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow.
The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed.
The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back.
But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore.
She's a mother with claws.
A luna who learned to bite.
And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees.
Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet.
Some bonds can't be broken.
Some rejections come with claws.
And some second chances are paid for in blood.
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.