Flying Free
11 Published Stories
Flying Free's Books and Stories
Too Late For The Mafia Don's Regret
Mafia I kept a ledger to track my marriage to the most feared man in Chicago.
Loyalty started at one hundred. Every time Dante looked through me to stare at his mistress, Isabella, I subtracted one. Every time he left our bed to answer her calls, I subtracted five.
The day the score hit zero, I was lying in a secret clinic, bleeding out.
I had been in a severe accident. I was pregnant, and the hemorrhage was critical.
But the nurse, eyes red with weeping, told me they couldn't give me the blood transfusion I needed.
Dante had ordered the clinic's entire supply of O-negative blood to be reserved for Isabella.
She had a bruised knee and was "in shock." He prioritized her comfort over his unborn child's life.
I lost the baby.
I left the ledger on his desk with a final note: *You bought her comfort with your heir’s blood. Score: 0.* Then, I vanished.
Two years later, Dante found me at a gala in Seattle.
The ruthless Capo dei Capi, a man who never bowed to anyone, fell to his knees in front of hundreds of people. He begged, tears streaming down his face, claiming he had made a mistake, that I was his only true love.
I looked at him, then at Julian, the man standing beside me who treated me like a queen.
I pulled my hand away from Dante’s grip and smiled coldly.
"Apologies don't fix dead things, Mr. Moretti. Go back to your grave." The Day the Vampires Awoke
Modern I was twenty years old and dying of ALS, my body wasting away into a pile of twitching muscles and lead-heavy limbs. With only a month left to live, I took my parents' entire fifty-thousand-dollar inheritance to a rain-slicked alley and gambled it all on a single vial of "unregistered" blood.
The liquid tasted like battery acid and stopped my heart cold, but when I woke up, the paralysis was gone. My skin was pale, my eyes had turned into glowing molten silver, and the only thing that could satisfy my agonizing hunger was the sound of silver jewelry shattering between my teeth.
But the cure came with a terrifying new vision: I could see the blue, parasitic shadows living inside everyone around me. My neighbors, my teachers, and even the little girl next door were being hollowed out by monsters with needle-teeth and lashing tentacles that no one else could see. When the school went into lockdown and the halls filled with the scent of rotting fish, I realized an invisible invasion had already claimed the city.
The military didn't come to rescue us; they came to "sanitize" the zone, turning their miniguns on the terrified students to bury the evidence of the outbreak. I was trapped on a roof with a handful of survivors and a mysterious girl named Elise who looked at me like I was a genetic mistake.
"No one is coming to save us," I whispered, watching the helicopters circle like vultures.
I grabbed Elise’s enchanted silver dagger, ignored her warnings, and crunched the blade into a savory paste. As a wave of dark, forbidden power turned my skin into a Vantablack void, I stopped being a dying kid and became the only thing the monsters were afraid of. His Confession, My Shattered World
Modern My boyfriend, Finn, and my best friend, Carly, were my entire world. After a childhood drifting through foster homes, they were the family I' d always craved, my anchors in a stormy sea. I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.
Then, on the morning of my 23rd birthday, I stumbled upon a private video on Finn' s laptop. It was titled "My Confession."
He wasn't confessing his love for me. He was crying, his voice cracking as he admitted he was in love with Carly.
He called her a vibrant supernova, an electric current. He described our relationship as a comfort, and me as a fragile burden he couldn't bear to hurt.
My found family had found each other, and I was the inconvenient truth standing in their way. The two people who had pulled me from the shadows were now the ones casting me back into them. They had given me so much; this was the one thing I could give back.
Their freedom.
So while they planned my surprise party, I quietly accepted a multi-year research contract at the ends of the earth. I was going to the Arctic to disappear. No Second Chances For Cheaters
Billionaires Tonight was our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, tech mogul Damon Ayers, booked the city's most expensive hotel for a lavish party.
He pulled me close for the cameras, whispering how much he loved me. A moment later, I watched him use the private code we developed together to flirt with his mistress, Kandy, right in front of me.
He left our party, lying about a work emergency, to meet her. The anniversary fireworks he set off? They were for her. The next day, she showed up at our house, pregnant. I watched through the window as a slow smile spread across his face. A few hours later, she sent me a photo of him on one knee, proposing to her.
He had always told me he wasn't ready for a child with me. For ten years, I was the perfect, supportive wife. I was also the cybersecurity expert who built the architecture that saved his company. He seemed to have forgotten that part.
As my car headed to the airport for my planned disappearance, we stopped at a red light. Next to us was a Rolls-Royce, decorated for a wedding. Inside were Damon and Kandy, in a tuxedo and a white dress. Our eyes met through the glass. His face went pale with shock.
I simply threw my phone out the window and told the driver to go. Lost Love, Bitter Victory
Romance My wife, Olivia, and I had what I thought was the perfect life, a vibrant canvas of shared dreams and artistic ambition.
But beneath the surface, a shadow lingered: her unexplained infertility, a result of an accident years ago-my fault-that filled me with a guilt I carried like a stone.
I watched her endless cycles of hope, the IVF treatments we endured, believing we were fighting for our miracle baby together.
Then, a single photograph arrived, shattering my world: Olivia, glowing with maternal pride, kneeling before a three-year-old boy who was undeniably hers. On the back, two words scrawled in messy handwriting: Our son.
The fertility struggles, my guilt-it was all a monstrous, suffocating lie, a performance designed to keep me blind.
I couldn' t breathe, trapped in her beautiful deception, so I planned my escape, a desperate attempt to vanish from a life that was never truly mine.
After I "disappeared," a new life began, quiet and anonymous, painted in the solitude of the Oregon coast.
But the past refused to stay buried, returning with the salt on the wind, a ghost with haunted eyes and the cruel truth of consequences.
Now, she stands before me, broken and desperate, having lost everything-her child, her lover-in the wake of my strategic vanishing act.
She believes my "death" was her fault, the ultimate price for her lies, unaware that the real architect of her downfall was closer than she ever imagined.
I am not the man she married. I am a stranger forged in betrayal, ready to confront the wreckage she created. Rebirth: A Wife's Bitter Reckoning
Modern The piercing wail of an ambulance siren was the first thing I heard.
I was lying on the living room carpet, the scent of dust and cheap air freshener in my nose.
A few feet away, my younger sister, Chloe, clutched an empty bottle of pills, feigning unconsciousness.
It was a pathetic performance, but it had destroyed my life once before.
This was the day I received my acceptance letter and full scholarship to the nation' s most prestigious art school-the day my life was supposed to begin.
Instead, guided by my mother' s frantic sobs and my father' s angry accusations- "Ava, how can you be so selfish? Your sister is trying to kill herself because of you!" -I buckled.
My fiancé, Mark, whispered poison: "What' s a scholarship compared to your sister' s life?"
I believed them.
I gave it all up, watching as my scholarship was transferred to Chloe.
The betrayal festered.
A month later, I discovered Mark hadn' t failed his exams; he and Chloe had plotted to steal my future.
When I confronted them, they locked me in my art studio and set it on fire.
I survived, disfigured and broken, only to be forced into a brutal marriage where I eventually died.
But now, I was back.
Seventeen again.
Whole.
The future they stole, once again within my grasp.
Chloe fluttered her eyelids, a flash of triumph in her eyes as they met mine.
This time, the burning rage had cooled into something harder, sharper.
They thought this was their victory.
They had no idea it was just the beginning of my revenge. The Price of a Billion-Dollar Love
Billionaires The private jet' s hum was supposed to drown out the silence, but it only amplified the heavy dread in the cabin.
Across the table, my husband, Ethan Vance, watched me with cold, unblinking eyes, his once-loved face a mask of cruelty.
"Sign it, Chloe." His low, calm voice cut through the air.
The document lay between us, a single sheet of paper that would transfer my half of our billion-dollar company to him-and to her, Scarlett Hayes, his long-lost ex, the ghost haunting my marriage.
My hands trembled, but it wasn't just the document.
Through the open jet door, his bodyguards held my sixteen-year-old sister, Lily, her face pale with terror, thousands of feet in the air.
"Scarlett needs this," he' d said when I begged, "You were just holding her place, Chloe. It's time to give it back."
His words were a physical blow, shattering illusions of the life we'd built.
My love, my security, my entire world-all just a temporary placeholder.
Watching Lily' s silent tears stream down her face, I knew he was using my deepest love as a weapon.
My signature was a shaky scrawl, a testament to my broken spirit.
"There. It's done. Now let her go."
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.
Then, the guards tightened their grip, and with a brutal shove, pushed my sister out the open door.
Her scream tore away with the wind, leaving only a horror too profound to process.
He had promised to let her go, and he had murdered her instead.
In the ensuing darkness, as my world fractured, a terrible clarity sliced through the pain: I was never the love of his life; I was just the bandage for a wound he never wanted to heal.
But as the jet descended, a defiant spark ignited in the ashes of my heart.
I would survive.
I would escape.
And he would pay. Lost Love, Found Self: A New Beginning
Romance My life was a perfectly tailored garment, every seam in place, my marriage to tech mogul Ethan Vance the central, flawless stitch.
Then, at my triumphant New York Fashion Week debut, I found him with a woman I didn' t know, his arm around her, her hand clutching his.
She was Willow Vance, his long-lost cousin, a fragile waif who, he explained, had nowhere else to go.
She moved into our penthouse, a subtle manipulator who turned every minor mishap into a dramatic performance of victimhood, always with Ethan as her loyal defender.
I watched, helpless, as my husband dismissed my concerns, publicly shamed me, and defended her manipulative acts, making me the villain in my own home.
When a package of provocative lingerie arrived, addressed to me but with a note clearly meant for Ethan, I knew it was Willow' s ultimate power play to shatter our trust.
I confronted her, exposing her performance, and for a moment, Ethan finally saw through her act.
But nothing truly changed.
My family, my life' s work, everything I held dear was weaponized against me, twisted and contorted until I was left with nothing but emptiness.
I finally walked away, choosing freedom over a life built on lies and betrayal.
Little did I know, the fight was far from over. The Day He Lost Everything
Romance I rushed home, excited for our anniversary, my mind full of plans for our perfect life, our growing family.
Then the fall happened.
The hospital confirmed the miscarriage.
But the real blow came when I saw my husband, Ethan, not by my side, but tenderly looking at another woman, his ex, Liv, in the very same hospital.
Worse, the anniversary ring he'd promised me shone brightly on her finger.
He covered his tracks with casual lies about "late client meetings" and a fabricated "startup" with his friends, who all gleefully participated in his deception.
His mother even called Liv his "honorary little sister," while telling me I was "too suspicious."
He came home, oblivious, asking for snacks and telling me to rest because I was pregnant—the baby I'd just lost alone.
How could the man I loved, the father of our lost child, be so utterly blind, so heartless?
The truth settled in, cold and sharp.
All their lies, the endless gaslighting, the twisted loyalty of his family and friends—it was an entire world built on my pain.
I packed my bags.
My new job in Austin was calling.
I left him the divorce papers, the rings, and a voicemail revealing the truth: there was no baby for him to be a father to.
Not anymore.
I was free. The Jilted Heiress's San Francisco Escape
Romance My world was finally clicking back into place.
After three agonizing years, my fiancé, Chris Vance, the ex-CIA operative I adored, was finally back from his top-secret mission.
Our dream wedding at my Wyoming ranch was set, a perfect life ahead.
Until I stumbled upon his old satellite phone.
A hidden audio file revealed a woman's voice, and then *his*, casually discussing a 'New York heiress' and a two-year-old son named Leo.
That three-year 'mission'? A perfectly crafted lie.
He'd been playing happy families, while I counted the days.
The ultimate betrayal? His paramour, Maria, soon arrived with their son, Leo, and shamelessly framed me for poisoning the child with an allergy, casting me as the jealous villain right in front of him.
His eyes, once filled with love, now held doubt.
How could he betray me so utterly, then watch it happen again?
The man I loved was a stranger, and I was left with a shattered dream and a public accusation.
I took off my engagement ring, left it, and fled.
My godfather offered an escape: San Francisco, and a quiet stranger named Noah Chen.
Was it a lifeline or another cage?
Could I ever trust again after such a devastating lie? Avenge My Trapped Fairy Mother
Xuanhuan Here’s the translation of the text into English:
---
Mother is a fairy from the heavens.
For the sake of Father, she stayed in the mortal world, creating a beautiful tale.
But only I know that Mother was stripped of her feathered robe, the source of all her powers, and was forced to remain in the human realm.
At the age of seven, I knocked on Mother’s door in the dead of night.
She was barely clothed, her body limp, lying in the arms of Emperor Father, biting her lip in humiliation.
She held me and said, "Ali, go quickly, and never come back."
Later, she lay in my arms, covered in blood, laughing with wild abandon.
"Ali, Mother can only help you this far."
"The rest of the journey, you must walk on your own."
I held Mother’s lifeless body, gripping the small knife tightly in my hand.
"Mother, don’t worry."
"I will soon send them down to accompany you."
---
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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.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. 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. Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother
Nero Daniels My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive. His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." A BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA LORD
Nooriva "Where do you think you're going, huh? You're mine now, Little Mouse. Get back in the house!" Vincenzo's voice boomed, sending chills down Victoria's spine as her world seemed to crumble.
Victoria Washington was shattered-betrayed by her boyfriend who dumped her the day before his wedding, to her sister. She was left humiliated, mocked by everyone. But fate had other plans for her.
She's broken, he's lost. She's full of fear, and he's the monster. Yet, somehow, he's her light while he remains in darkness.
Vincenzo Dante will stop at nothing to tarnish his family's name for forcing him into a marriage he never wanted. But what he doesn't realize is that his new wife is stronger than she seems-too broken to bend under his cruelty. But when love begins to bloom, and secrets start to unfold, what will happen next?
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