Adalynn
14 Published Stories
Adalynn's Books and Stories
Shattered Vows: The Mafia Queen Escapes
Mafia I married Julian, the city's most ruthless Mafia Don, trading my freedom and body just to keep my dying sister alive.
But when Elena needed an emergency surgery, Julian coldly denied the three hundred thousand dollars.
"Submit the request to Serena. She handles all financial approvals," he dismissed me, knowing full well his secretary despised me.
Serena intentionally stalled the funds, mocking my desperation while Julian rewarded her with a sacred blood-diamond heirloom meant only for the Mafia Queen. While they laughed over wine at a high-end restaurant, I watched my fragile sister pull her own life-support tubes to free me from my mafia enslavement. The devastating shock ripped through my abdomen, and in a horrific pool of blood on the clinic floor, I miscarried Julian's unborn heir.
Even then, Julian's only message was a cold threat, demanding I drop to my knees and apologize to Serena for my attitude.
I stared at the flatlining monitor, my soul completely hollowed out. I was his wife, yet he had casually handed the power of life and death over my only family to a malicious subordinate who wanted me replaced.
I didn't shed another tear. I surgically cleared the tragic remains of my pregnancy, packed the bloody tissue into a sealed medical cooler along with my signed severance papers, and had it delivered straight to the Don's mahogany desk before vanishing into the night. His Unwanted Ex Begs For Second Chances
Mafia Three years ago, my fiancée Elena left me at the altar on a twisted dare, humiliating me in front of our entire mafia syndicate.
Today, she blocked my headquarters with nine armored cars, demanding I divorce my pregnant wife and serve her again.
"Hiring a pregnant woman to make me jealous is a bit desperate, Liam," she sneered, tossing a cheap ring at my feet.
When I ignored her to escort my wife, Sienna, to her medical checkup, Elena's childhood friend Julian deliberately lunged at Sienna's swollen stomach.
I threw myself in the way to take the brutal impact, but the shockwave sent Sienna to the emergency room with a threatened miscarriage.
Even as the medical staff scrambled to save my unborn heir, Elena grabbed my sleeve to defend the man who caused it.
"He made a mistake! Why are you holding onto a grudge?" she cried, insisting I was just throwing a tantrum to get her attention.
For seven years, I took bullets to secure her family's territory, only to be discarded like a stray dog when she got bored.
What made her think I would spend three years waiting to be her loyal servant, let alone forgive the attempted murder of my child?
Looking at her entitled, delusional face, the last shred of my restraint turned to ash.
I pulled out my phone to broadcast the security footage to the entire underworld, and calmly ordered my men to erase her family from existence. Rising From Ashes: My Masked Runway Comeback
Modern I sat in the emergency room corridor, pressing a soaked bandage against my heavily bleeding arm. I had texted my husband of three years, billionaire Efford Thornton, begging him to come.
He did come, but he walked right past me as if I were a piece of furniture. When the doctor finally brought the last bag of O-negative blood in the city to save my life, Efford's assistant intercepted it.
Efford coldly ordered the blood to be sent to the VIP wing for Aletha Chase.
"Mrs. Chase is pregnant with the Thornton heir," he declared flatly. "The priority is non-negotiable."
As I watched my life-saving blood being carried away, he handed me a divorce agreement and an NDA. If I dared to expose his affair, he would immediately cut off the funding for my grandmother's dementia care, leaving her to rot in a public ward. He then turned his back, leaving me to bleed out in the hallway.
For three years, I had given up my career and my identity to be his perfect, compliant wife. I couldn't understand how the man who once looked at me like I was his whole world could now literally watch me die just to protect his mistress.
But he forgot one thing. The submissive wife he married was just a ghost. I wiped the blood from my hands, dug out the leather half-mask I had hidden away years ago, and made a call.
It was time for the legendary runway model "Phoenix" to rise from the ashes and burn his empire to the ground. The Belated Confession from a Disqualified Father
Modern My six-year-old twins, Liam and Lily, begged to go to Disneyland.
But my husband, Julian Vance, planned to take his mistress to a prenatal clinic.
Annoyed by the twins' crying and deeming them "too delicate and spoiled," Julian drove them out to the Mojave Desert, demanding they learn how to survive on their own.
I couldn't even fathom it. I begged him desperately.
"Julian, please! Give me the coordinates! Tell me where my babies are!"
"They're only six! They'll die out there! I promise I'll discipline them. I'll never let them bother you again. Please, just let me go get them back!"
The only answer I got was the sound of him having sex with his mistress.
By the time Julian found out the truth, it was already too late.
He knelt before me, crying and pleading for forgiveness, but my children were no longer around to forgive him.
And I could never forgive him on their behalf. The Silent Luna: Rejected by the Blind Alpha
Werewolf The sound of his pen scratching against the paper was louder than the thunder outside.
Beside me, Dante, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, reeked of a sickly, synthetic sweetness—a witch's hex perfume that clouded his mind and made him obsessed with another woman.
He tossed a folder onto my lap without even looking at me.
"File this with the Council tomorrow," he ordered, his eyes glazed over as he texted his mistress, Sofia. "It's just the logistics report."
He didn't know he had just signed our divorce papers.
Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of a dark highway.
"Get out," he snarled, his eyes glowing a feral yellow. "Sofia is being attacked. I need the car. You're slowing me down."
I froze. "Dante, this is Rogue territory."
"Survive," he scoffed.
He forced me out of the safety of the SUV and sped away, leaving his Fated Mate standing in the freezing rain to save a mistress who was lying on a yacht.
My wolf didn't weep this time. She growled.
I looked at the signed document in my hand. He thought he was stripping my access to the treasury, but he had just legally set me free.
I didn't wait for him to return.
I took the papers, withdrew fifty million dollars from his account, and vanished to the West Coast.
When he finally clears the witch's fog from his mind and comes looking for his submissive wife, he won't find Elena the doormat.
He will face the White Wolf. His Heir, Her Escape
Billionaires I was the woman who pulled my husband, tech billionaire Brayden Quinn, out of the gutter. Our story was a modern fairy tale everyone knew.
Then I discovered I was pregnant. But the baby wasn't mine. It was an embryo created by him and my worst enemy, implanted in me without my consent. I was just a surrogate for their heir.
When my mother was dying, he refused to help, letting her perish from medical neglect because he was too busy with his mistress.
When I tried to leave, he had my lawyer disbarred and locked me in our mansion, a prisoner in a gilded cage. He held me against a wall and told me I was his property forever.
After he subjected me to a terrifying medical procedure just to remind me of who was in control, I knew the man I had saved was a monster.
He hadn't just betrayed me; he had murdered my mother and stolen my body.
So I made a deal with his greatest rival. I sold my controlling stake in his company for five hundred million dollars and a plan to disappear. On the deck of the superyacht he named after me, I faked a miscarriage, set off an explosion, and threw myself into the sea.
Brayden Quinn would believe I was dead. He would believe he had driven his wife and his precious heir to suicide.
Let him live with that. Love’s Ashes, Archer’s Regret
Romance Francesca Freeman had loved Archer Collins for ten years, ever since her father brought the skinny, silent boy home from the streets. He became her brother in name, but in her heart, he was always something more.
Then, on the night he proposed, she overheard his chilling conversation with Amelia Ball: their engagement was merely the first step in his calculated revenge to destroy her family.
Every kiss, every tender word since, was a lie. He called her sick, a monster, and had his men beat her, all while she endured, knowing she was just a pawn in his cruel game. He even gave her murdered mother's last memento to Amelia, the very woman who orchestrated the fire that killed her.
She couldn't comprehend such betrayal from the boy she had loved, the one who had vowed to protect her. Why did he believe Amelia's lies over her, over the family who took him in?
With her heart turned to ash, Francesca Freeman made a choice: she would erase her identity, disappear completely, and leave Archer to face the consequences of his own blind hatred. My Husband's Secret Divorce
Romance The fluorescent hum of the DMV was the soundtrack to my boring life, until I tried to replace my lost driver's license.
"Your marital status. It says you're divorced," the clerk said, shattering my five-year marriage to Jackson Parks with a single, flat sentence.
My husband, Jackson, the man who swore he loved me, had secretly divorced me three years ago. Not only that, he had remarried the very next day to Candida Camacho, the woman who had tried to murder me on my wedding day and left me infertile. And they had a two-year-old son, Joey.
I stumbled home, my world a blur, only to find Jackson and Candida in our living room, arguing. "I hate having to pretend for that pathetic woman!" Candida shrieked. Jackson, my husband, pleaded, "I love you. I've always loved you."
The man I sacrificed everything for, who swore to destroy her, was now playing house with my attempted murderer, and I was the fool living in his house, sleeping in his bed, believing his lies.
The pain in my abdomen, a phantom ache from five years ago, flared to life, mirroring the gaping wound in my soul. I would not be his victim anymore.
"Hamilton," I said into the phone, my voice clear and steady. "I need your help. I need you to help me die." Picking Up The Relationship Trash
Modern "Olivia, we need to break up." I said the words quietly. We were sitting on the couch we' d picked out together two years ago. Instead of concern, she laughed, thinking it was a joke because she forgot almond milk.
Then her phone buzzed. It was Liam. Again. "Can we not do this right now? It's Liam. He needs me." It was always Liam. On our anniversary, the night my grandmother died. He always had a crisis only Olivia could solve.
He arrived less than twenty minutes later, looking pale and distressed. He saw me, and his voice, laced with fake vulnerability, faltered. "Olivia said you guys were having a talk. I can go if this is a bad time. I just… I had another panic attack." He looked at Olivia, playing the victim, making me the bad guy.
I' d seen this a hundred times: the late-night calls, the fabricated emergencies. I felt a snap inside me. "You' re always having a panic attack, Liam," I blurted. "You strategically dismantle. You make sure you are always the priority."
Liam recoiled, his face crumbling. Olivia' s face hardened, disappointment aimed squarely at me. "Noah, stop it. You know he struggles. How can you be so cruel?" She moved to Liam' s side, placing a protective arm around him. She was comforting him. From me. My heart dissolved. I was the outsider.
"I' m tired of coming in second place to him. I' m tired of being the bad guy for wanting a partner, not a part-time caregiver for your friend." I grabbed my bag. As I walked out, Olivia' s voice, thick with disbelief, followed me. "You' re really leaving? Over this? You' re just going to throw everything away because you' re jealous?" I stopped but didn' t turn. "It was already thrown away, Liv. I' m just the one finally picking up the trash." I closed the door. Disowned Daughter, Reborn Artist
Young Adult I was the golden girl, the champion equestrian, adored by my father, cherished by my brother, and deeply in love with my high school sweetheart, living a perfect suburban life.
Then, on my 18th birthday, everything shattered when my father brought home Maria, a "troubled teen" he adopted, and suddenly, I ceased to exist.
My father, brother, and even the boy I loved, Ethan, turned their backs on me, falling for Maria' s fragile, manipulative act, consistently choosing her over me, climaxing with them missing my college graduation for her regional play.
When I confronted them about their abandonment, my own father struck me, my brother coldly told me to "get out," and later, after I cooked a meal to try for closure, they accused me of poisoning Maria, believing her fabricated allergic reaction.
Utterly broken and disowned, I fled in a thunderstorm, leaving behind the only family I'd ever known, not realizing it was just the beginning of my rebirth. Reborn on the Day of Reckoning
Billionaires The faint line on the pregnancy test glowed, a stark white against the cold marble. My hand trembled, not with joy, but with the icy grip of a memory that chilled me to the bone. This was the day, the exact day it all began to unravel in my first life.
Ethan, my charming, ambitious husband, a rising Harrison political star. And Seraphina, my beautiful, "golden child" stepsister, who always got what she wanted. I remembered their smiles, their whispers, and how they destroyed me.
The searing pain of the car veering off the road, the blinding headlights, Sera' s triumphant sneer in the shadows just before the end.
They wanted my inheritance, my position, and my very existence gone. My baby, this tiny, unformed life inside me now, had died with me then. Their betrayal was complete, my fate sealed.
How could they have been so cruel, so calculating, to orchestrate such a gruesome end for a naive wife and her unborn child? The bitter injustice had consumed me, haunting my final moments. Yet, here I was.
Reborn. I was actually back, precisely on the day of my first demise. The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor, or perhaps, a penchant for second acts.
But this time, I wouldn' t be the unaware victim. Ava Harrison would no longer be a naive fool, easily dazzled and discarded.
This time, Ava Harrison would be the one pulling the strings. My objective was clear, etched in the remembered pain: secure my child' s future, and make them all pay. Every single one of them. My revenge finally begins tonight. The Afterthought Boyfriend
Romance The pen hovered, ready to sign the lease for our new apartment, signaling a huge step forward after seven years with Chloe.
This was supposed to be it, our future, a real home we'd finally share.
Then, her phone buzzed for the third time in minutes, betraying the familiar source of chaos: Liam.
"He needs me," she whispered, already pulling away, leaving me stranded with two unsigned leases and a bewildered agent.
My heart sank when I scrolled social media to find Liam's smug selfie with Chloe, her arm around him, captioned "My angel, always there."
Her follow-up text wasn't "Are you okay?" but an angry accusation: "Are you trying to make me look bad? I'm dealing with something real here."
The supposed "crisis" was a lie, a performance designed to put Liam first, as always.
Seven years of always being second, of cancelled plans and hollow apologies, now burned with the bitter truth: he wasn't having a relapse, he was just having my Chloe.
Every single time, her excuses and empty promises had left me feeling like an afterthought, my feelings dismissed.
How could I have been so foolishly hopeful, clinging to the belief that her fleeting affection was genuine love, not just a desperate cling to a safety net?
Then, my boss offered an escape: a lead designer position in San Francisco, a chance for a fresh start.
I was done with the lies, the neglect, the constant battle for a love that wasn't truly mine.
Looking Chloe in the eye, despite my fever, I declared, "We're over. Your apologies are always too late."
This time, I was choosing myself, walking away for good. Celestial Queen: Her Comeback Is Astronomical
Sci-fi Ava Hayes, daughter of a revered NASA astronaut, felt destiny pulling her toward the stars, just like her hero father who'd sacrificed his life on a mission.
A glittering gala was her chance to connect, but the night twisted into a public nightmare when intimate photos of her were auctioned off as a "gag."
Her childhood friends, Liam and Owen, stood by, even laughing, manipulated by Bianca, whose family had built a false legacy from her own father's alleged heroism, eclipsing Ava's true family sacrifice.
This wasn't just a prank; it was a calculated attack.
The public shaming escalated with fabricated scandals, dragging her father's name through the mud and pushing Ava to the brink of suicide.
How could the boys whose fathers owed their lives to hers turn so vile?
The betrayal left her broken, yet through the ashes of despair, her mentor, Dr. Ramirez, pulled her back.
Ava disappeared, finding refuge and rebuilding her brilliance at a remote observatory.
But redemption, and revenge, have a way of finding their moment.
Now, she's back, a lead astrophysicist, commanding a groundbreaking AstroCorp project.
The scars of their cruelty run deep, but they fueled her rise.
Little do Liam and Owen know, the truth about her father's ultimate sacrifice is about to rewrite history, and Ava is ready to collect on every single wound they inflicted. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit 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.
The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. You Cannot Afford Me Now,Fabiano
Jun Wen Tomorrow, I am supposed to walk down the aisle and marry the most lethal mafia boss on the East Coast. But right now, I am trapped inside a locked glass conservatory.
His childhood friend turned on the industrial ceiling sprinklers, laughing as the cold water rapidly filled the room.
She knew about my crippling phobia of drowning. I looked through the glass at my fiancé, Fabiano, begging him to save me.
Instead of helping, he just leaned against the terrace railing, sipping his bourbon while his men recorded my terror on their phones.
“Stop making a scene and embarrassing me,” he warned through the intercom, annoyed by my panic.
Then, his childhood friend smiled and whispered a truth that froze my blood.
“I didn't just guess your little phobia. Fabiano gave it to me.”
For three years, I laundered his dirty money, secured his legitimate supply chains, and loved him with my life.
I had confided my deepest trauma to him in the dark, and he had turned it into a parlor game for his mistress.
How could the man who promised to be my shield watch me drown without an ounce of pity?
The fear of the rising water was suddenly burned away by a cold, clarifying rage.
I picked up a heavy iron stand, smashed the bulletproof glass with my bleeding hands, and triggered my private tactical team.
Since he thought I was just a disposable accountant, I would show him what happens when you cross the woman who actually owns his empire. The Don's $46 Million Mistake
HONEY MULLINS I married Luca Falcone, the most dangerous Mafia Don in New York, believing our arranged union had blossomed into true love.
But exactly five minutes after our vows, he smashed my father's face into the glass wedding table in front of three hundred guests.
"Giovanni Rossi is accused of embezzling forty-six million dollars from this Family!"
With those words, he sentenced my father to a brutal blood tribunal.
I was dragged into a freezing underground cell in my ruined silk wedding dress.
His Head of Intelligence threw a surveillance dossier at me, revealing that Luca's twenty months of romance was just a cold, calculated investigation to destroy my family.
My mother was left dry-heaving on the marble floor in terror, and my father's heart gave out as he was dragged to the infirmary.
I stared at the photos of our dates, the agonizing realization suffocating me.
Every morning coffee, every gentle touch, and every whispered promise in the dark was an elaborate lie.
He had tracked my every move for nearly two years but never trusted me enough to just ask about the money, choosing the word of a jealous operative over his own wife.
So, I wiped my tears and stopped playing the docile bride.
I calmly summoned my corporate lawyer and dropped the federal tax records proving I was a secret billionaire CEO.
The forty-six million was my own legal money, saved to treat my father's terminal cancer.
Ignoring the ruthless Don as he finally dropped to his knees in tears, I left my wedding ring on the divorce papers and walked out. Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don
Ebony Pete "You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down? 
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