The Don's Dangerous Addiction

"Take them off yourself, or I will do it for you." Ten sessions. Two hundred thousand dollars. Her brother's life for her body. Dr. Avery St. Clair signed a contract in blood. To save her family, she has to fix the mind of Obsidian City's most feared monster, Dominic Kessler. He's a Mafia Don rotting from the inside out. A bullet gave him C-PTSD and a touch so sensitive he can't stand being touched. Avery is the only antidote who can calm him down. So he locked her in his villa. But Dominic is playing a game he's already lost. He doesn't know Avery is the woman from seven years ago. The stranger who saved him on that dark gambling ship and disappeared before sunrise. He doesn't know the scar on his wrist is burned into her memory. And most of all, he doesn't know the autistic little girl hiding in her clinic is his own daughter. While Avery hides the truth behind her professional mask, their little girl feels his every nightmare. Every flashback. Every crack in his monster mask. When the secrets finally come out, his empire will fall. He'll lose his sight. His throne. The only woman who ever made him feel human. To win her back, he'll have to destroy the monster he became. And help her burn down the man who murdered her parents. She won't make it easy. This is not a love story. It's a monster learning to beg. Why read this? Obsessive Mafia Hero Secret Baby with an Autistic and Gifted Daughter Identity Reveal "Touch Her And You Die" Energy Massive Groveling and Revenge A Heroine Who Fights Back No Cheating. Happy Ending Guaranteed.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Dorothea was still standing in the hallway, a tiny, spectral figure in the gloom.

Avery walked over and scooped her up. The child's skin was like ice; there was no telling how long she'd been rooted there.

"Sweetheart, why are you out of bed?"

Dorothea didn't answer. She buried her face in the crook of Avery's neck, her stuffed rabbit crushed between them.

"Mommy," she whispered. "He stopped."

Avery paused, her heart skipping. "Who stopped?"

"The one who was counting."

Avery carried her back, tucked her in, and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Dorothea blinked, clutching her rabbit, and after a long moment, her breathing finally leveled out into a fragile sleep.

Avery sat on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter's face. So small. So eerily quiet.

Before the first rays of dawn could break, a sharp rap sounded at the door. It was Drake.

"Dr.Clair. We have a situation."

She followed him into the hall. Drake's jaw was set, his expression grim.

"The surveillance in the east wing went dark for twenty minutes. The breach originated from your room. Your key card was cloned this morning."

Avery looked down at the card in her hand. She'd used it to enter Dominic's study earlier. It hadn't left her pocket since.

"Dorothea-"

"The child is fine. The hallway is locked down," Drake reassured her, though his voice dropped an octave. "But that's not the worst of it."

He handed her his phone. A message glowed on the screen:

Julian's primary physician was replaced this morning. The new doctor immediately altered his medication logs. The medical trust account has been frozen.

Avery's grip tightened until her knuckles ached. It was a trap-a blatant, jagged hook. Julian was the bait, and they were reeling her in.

If she went, she was walking into the lion's mouth. If she stayed, her brother would pay the price in blood.

She turned and marched toward Dominic's study.

She pushed the door open without knocking. He was standing by the window, already dressed in a sharp, dark suit that screamed power. He had just ended a call.

"Your security was hacked," Avery said, her voice tight.

"I know."

"The access came from my room-"

"I know." He turned, his movement stiff, and handed her a remote.

The wall monitors flickered to life. Two black SUVs sat idling outside the main gate. They didn't move. No one got out. They just loomed there like vultures.

"My East Pier shipment was intercepted. The south side logistics are blocked. Two of my offshore accounts were flagged and frozen," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "And your brother's doctor was swapped out an hour ago."

"But you just fixed that yesterday-"

"They're cowards hiding in the shadows," he cut her off. "It's easy to break things when you're invisible."

He handed her a separate file.

"Your brother is holding something. A backup from Wenger. They're coming for him because they need your signature for the authorization. They want you there, and they want that data."

Avery froze. "How could Julian have a backup from Wenger?"

"Wenger gave it to him," Dominic said flatly. "Wenger knew he was a dead man walking. He entrusted his most dangerous secret to someone who couldn't speak. Silence is the ultimate vault."

"What's in the backup?"

"I don't know. But they're moving fast enough to risk a direct hit on me to get it."

A small sound echoed from the hallway. Avery stepped out to find Dorothea standing by the study door, clutching her rabbit and staring through the crack.

"Sweetheart-"

Dorothea wasn't looking at her mother. She was staring into the room, toward Dominic. "Uncle Julian is not okay," she whispered.

Avery quickly ushered Dorothea back to her room, then returned to the study. Dominic hadn't moved.

"You took her back," he noted. It wasn't a question; it was an observation of her maternal instinct.

"I did."

He was silent for a beat, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the window frame. Avery noticed something off-his gaze was fixed about five inches to the left of where she was standing.

He raised a hand to rub his brow, a sharp, frustrated gesture.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he rasped. "I just don't like people playing games on my turf."

He turned to Drake. "Get the cars. Notify the hospital team. We proceed as planned. Assign two men to the third floor-they don't leave the child's side for a second."

Drake nodded and vanished.

Avery looked at Dominic, her doctor's eye narrowing. "Your condition-"

"Is nothing compared to being handled like a pawn," he snapped, straightening his cuffs. "The rats in the dark need to be smoked out before I can crush them."

His gaze slid past her face again. He didn't correct it. He simply shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out.

The hospital was unnervingly quiet. The white walls bled cold light under the fluorescent tubes, and the air tasted of sharp bleach.

Avery led the way, with Dominic trailing a step behind. She noticed that as they stepped into the elevator, he reached out to steady himself against the wall. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing, letting go the instant the doors opened.

Julian's room was on the third floor. The door swung open. The bed was stripped and empty.

"Julian-"

"In the next room."

The voice came from behind her. Avery spun around to see a man in his forties with gold-rimmed glasses. Dr. Greene.

She remembered him from an academic conference last month. Wenger had introduced them, claiming Greene was "fascinated" by her work on C-PTSD. Now, the memory felt like a premonition.

Dominic stood in the hall, a dark, silent sentinel. Avery looked back at him. He gave her a sharp, imperceptible nod. Only then did she step into Greene's office.

Dominic leaned against the wall outside and dialed Drake. "Lock the exits on the third floor. Switch to the backup feed. I want eyes on every soul in this building."

"Copy that."

He hung up and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the light at the end of the hall dragged a ghostly trail across his vision. He didn't blink. He just stood by the door, listening.

Inside the office, Greene pushed a folder across the desk.

"The new treatment plan. Sign here, and we can begin immediately."

Avery picked up the pen, her hand hovering over the line. She flipped to the second page. A line of fine print caught her eye: Data usage rights transfer.

"What is this?"

"Standard clause."

"There is nothing standard about transferring my research data for a patient's treatment."

"Hospital policy-"

"This isn't policy." Avery slammed the folder shut. "Who are you working for?"

Greene's professional smile curdled. He took off his glasses, polished them slowly, and put them back on.

"Dr. Clair, your brother's account is frozen. If you don't sign, he misses his dose today. Think very carefully about his life."

The door flew open.

Dominic walked in, his presence instantly shrinking the room. He sat across from Greene as if he owned the building.

Greene's face paled, then reset into a mask of feigned ignorance. "And you are...?"

"You know exactly who I am," Dominic said, his voice a low, lethal silk. "You've known since your first day in this dirty business."

Greene said nothing.

"That data transfer," Dominic said, sliding the folder back toward the doctor. "Tell me who the end-user is."

"I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"You have thirty seconds." Dominic leaned back, his eyes cold and predatory. "After that, I can't guarantee what my men will do to your friends in this building."

Greene's fingers twitched.

"Twenty seconds."

Greene looked at Avery, then at the monster sitting across from him. He took off his glasses and set them trembling on the desk.

"I only know a codename," Greene whispered. "Devil."

Avery felt a chill settle in her bones. Dominic didn't move, but his eyes darkened.

Suddenly, Greene's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and turned the color of ash.

CRASH!

The office window exploded inward. Glass shrapnel rained down. Avery dove for cover, a stray shard slicing a thin, stinging line across her cheek.

She looked up. A figure in a black hoodie and a tactical mask stood on the shattered windowsill, a suppressed weapon leveled at her.

"Don't move," the figure rasped.

"Wenger said we have to bring Avery back alive."

Continue to next part

I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently. The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger. I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out. I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum? The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.

Horror Romance Vampire

9.7

He Came Back, I Broke Him

9.7

Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back. Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status. His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout. Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him. Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones? Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.

Action Horror Mystery

9.3

Once His Wife, Now His Worst Regret

9.3

She thought their love could survive anything. She was wrong. For five years, Amara Hayes was the perfect wife - loyal, gentle, and endlessly forgiving. She believed her husband, Ethan Blackwell, when he said his late nights were for business. She trusted him when he swore his heart was hers. Until the night she walked into his office and saw him making love to another woman. Humiliated, heartbroken, and betrayed, Amara left without a word - leaving behind her wedding ring, her identity, and the man who destroyed her faith in love. Three years later, she returns to New York as a powerful businesswoman with a new name and a cold smile. She's no longer the naive wife he controlled - she's his rival, his downfall, and his punishment. But Ethan isn't the same man either. He's haunted by the woman he lost and desperate for redemption. And when fate throws them together again, old flames reignite amid a storm of revenge, pain, and forbidden desire. He once broke her heart. Now, she'll make him wish he never did.

Horror Modern Romance

7.6

Pampered By The Sadistic Academy Villain

7.6

I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip. Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes. His pale chest was torn open to the bone. I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop. He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel. And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain. A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days. My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid. "Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume." If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed. But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap. How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself? I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive. Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face. "Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire." This time, I will rewrite my own fate.

Fantasy Horror Young Adult

8.7

Taming My Vicious Feral Wolf Slave

8.7

Kaylee woke up to the smell of rotting leaves and blood, realizing she had transmigrated into the grimdark fantasy novel she was reading last night. A robotic system in her head immediately delivered a death sentence: she was the tribe's vicious cannon fodder, and the male lead—a brutally tortured slave named Elijah—was currently dying on a totem pole outside. "If he dies, you will face instant soul-detonation." Kaylee rushed to the plaza, using her villainous authority to stop the execution and drag his mangled body back to her hut. But saving him was a nightmare. The original owner's sadism had traumatized him so deeply that her gentle touches and clean bandages only triggered his PTSD. His feral energy spiraled out of control, his golden eyes burning with paranoid terror as he waited for a new, twisted psychological game. To keep his energy from detonating and killing them both, Kaylee was forced to act like a monster. "I didn't save you because I care. A dead slave is useless to me." Only her cruel insults and threats of future torture calmed his broken mind. Adding to her despair, she stumbled upon the novel's supposedly innocent heroine in the forest, only to hear her system detect a terrifying anomaly. The fragile heroine had her own cheat system. Trapped with a paranoid future-tyrant and a rival player manipulating the tribe's strongest warriors, Kaylee shoved a bowl of hot stew at the bleeding slave with a mocking sneer. To survive this hell, she had to play the villain perfectly.

Fantasy Horror LitRPG

8.5

The Ruthless Billionaire's Rare Captive Rose

8.5

Alexa Thorne was just an eighteen-year-old girl trying to survive her wealthy friend's sweltering summer pool party. But a violent asthma attack, triggered by heavy cigar smoke, forced her to confront the man smoking it—Armando Holmes, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire and her friend's older brother. She begged him to put it out. He complied, but his cold gaze instantly shifted into a terrifying, predatory obsession. From that moment, her quiet life was over. Armando cornered her in a dark hallway, staking a terrifying claim. He forced her into his Bentley, practically kidnapping her to his secluded Hamptons estate, a gilded cage he called the Rose Manor. When he offered her a dark rose and declared his "enchantment," the sheer terror finally made Alexa run. But she tripped, tumbling down the hard stone steps, breaking her arm and severely gashing her face. Waking up in the hospital, facing the horror of a permanent, ugly scar, Alexa wept in sheer despair. She didn't understand why this dangerous, powerful man had targeted her, tearing her away from her modest life just to lock her in his terrifying grip. "I swear to you, you will not have a single scar." Armando vowed, his eyes burning with dark possession as he effortlessly dismissed her own brother's attempts to protect her. As he personally tended to her most humiliating needs with trembling hands, Alexa realized with chilling clarity: the real nightmare wasn't the fall, but the inescapable, obsessive love of the monster who had claimed her.

Action Billionaire Horror

The Don's Dangerous Addiction

Chapter 7

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