Marigold
15 Published Stories
Marigold's Books and Stories
Jilted By The Don: The Heiress Awakens
Mafia I bled beside Dominic for ten years, helping him rise from a scarred street soldier to the most feared Mafia Don in the city.
But on the day I planned to tell him about the eight-week-old heartbeat inside me, he canceled our wedding to marry an eighteen-year-old girl.
He told me he craved her innocence, untouched by the filth of our business.
His new bride faked an injury to frame me. Without hesitation, Dominic stripped me of my ring and threw me into a freezing underground cell.
Days later, they dragged me out and forced me to chug raw moonshine to prove my submission to his new Queen.
The liquid fire tore through my starved stomach. I collapsed and miscarried our baby in a pool of blood right in front of them.
Even then, his new wife laughed, pointing at my dying body.
"She is using hidden blood packs to manipulate you! She was never pregnant!"
Ten years of absolute loyalty and two previous miscarriages on the run, all rewarded with this deadly poison.
He walked away, leaving me to die on the cold floor of his club, thinking I was just a stray orphan with nowhere to go.
But he didn't know my true bloodline.
Six months later, as the Underboss of the rival Marino Family, I rolled up the tinted window of my armored SUV, leaving the crippled, ruined Don begging in the mud. Escaping With The Alpha's Unwanted Heir
Werewolf For three years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Alpha Julian Sterling.
When I finally got pregnant with his heir, I thought it would warm his cold heart. But the first thing he did when he returned from his trip was hand me a Mate Rejection Agreement.
He had brought back his ex-lover, Serena.
Julian coldly declared our marriage was just a political chore. To clear the path for her, he fired me from the company I built, watched her mock my late father, and threatened to throw me out as Rogue meat if I didn't submit.
The most chilling part was a hidden clause in the divorce papers. It stated that because I was a wolfless Omega, if I were ever pregnant, he would terminate the pup to protect his pure bloodline.
I had given him everything, only to be discarded like trash. I touched my flat stomach, terrified and disgusted that the man I loved would gladly kill his own child just to please his new queen.
"Prepare the documents to accept the rejection," I told my lawyer calmly.
Julian thought he had won, throwing away his useless, barren Omega. He had no idea I was taking his only heir with me, and I would burn his entire empire to the ground before he ever found out. My Cruel Choice, His Silent Death
Modern My husband, Cole, collapsed on our kitchen floor, gasping that he was in agony.
But I told him to stop being so dramatic. My toxic ex, Bryant, was drunk and whining about a sprained arm, and I chose to rush him to a private clinic instead.
I left Cole to die alone on the cold tiles. He had to call 911 himself.
When I finally saw him in the hospital, the adoration he'd held for me for five years was gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness.
"You left me to die, Emily," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You chose him. Again."
I had taken the kindest, most devoted man I'd ever known for granted, treating him as a placeholder for the man who constantly broke my heart.
In one single, cruel moment, I had finally killed his love for me.
Now, the divorce papers are on my desk. He's in Paris, thriving with a new restaurant and a new love who appreciates him.
And I am left with nothing but the ashes of my mistakes, beginning a life of lonely, agonizing penance. Poisoned Love, Bitter Justice
Romance My mother, a nurse who spent forty years caring for others, was poisoned and left for dead after a charity gala. The woman responsible, Keyla Dixon, stood in court, a mask of tearful innocence, claiming self-defense.
The real horror? My husband, Garrison Gardner, the city's top lawyer, was defending Keyla. He tore my mother's reputation apart, twisting the truth until the jury believed Keyla was the victim.
The verdict came swiftly: "Not guilty." Keyla hugged Garrison, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face. That night, in our cold mansion, I confronted him. "How could you?" I choked out. He calmly replied, "It was my job. Keyla is a very important client."
When I screamed that she tried to kill my mother, he threatened to use my mother's sealed medical records, her history of depression, to paint her as unstable and suicidal. He was willing to destroy her memory to protect his client and his career.
I was trapped, humiliated, and heartbroken. He had sacrificed my mother for his ambition, and now he was trying to erase me. But as I signed the divorce papers he had prepared, a wild, desperate plan began to form. If they wanted me gone, I would disappear. And then, I would make them pay. The Wife He Never Touched
Billionaires For five years, I, Chloe Davis, was the woman every other woman wanted to be, married to a man whose wealth was matched only by his handsome face, living in a gilded cage. But in three years of marriage, he had never touched me, our bedroom cold and empty.
On my ninety-ninth attempt to seduce my husband, Ethan, he finally pulled me close. But as pleasure washed over me, he whispered, "Ashley, you know I love you. Marrying Chloe was something I had to do. How could you let her do this? How could you let her seduce me?"
His confession shattered me. He wasn't incapable; he just didn't love me. His heart belonged to Ashley Thompson, his niece and my best friend, and I was just a shield. Ashley, the one who had encouraged me to pursue him, was the real object of his affection. Later, as I lay dizzy and confused in a hospital bed from donating my kidney to Ashley, Ethan offered me anything I wanted, even a child, if I saved her, revealing his plan to use me as a surrogate for him and Ashley.
The truth sliced through my seven years of devotion like a knife. After all I'd given, all I' d sacrificed, I was just a tool in their twisted game, a cover for their sordid affair. Even my wedding ring was a duplicate of Ashley' s.
I secretly signed our divorce papers on the operating table, and in the dead of night, I walked out of that mansion, leaving behind the shattered pieces of my naive heart and a final message: "Happy divorce! Never see you again!" My Heart, Their Secret
Horror The family trip to the coast was supposed to be a relaxing end to summer.
But the moment I stepped back on campus, a cold dread washed over me: my dorm room lock was changed.
My roommates-Emily, Ashley, Megan-they were just… gone.
Their numbers disconnected, their social media wiped clean.
It was like they' d vanished into thin air, leaving only silence and a terrifying void where my life used to be.
Then, things got worse.
My best friend Jessica' s new roommates started screaming at the sight of me, fleeing in terror.
The university counselor looked at me with a mix of pity and fear, everyone whispering about "personal safety concerns" and "extreme reactions."
They all thought I was the monster.
I had no idea why.
I knew I hadn' t done anything, but an unbearable sense of confusion and injustice gnawed at me.
How could my friends abandon me without a word?
Why was everyone suddenly so afraid of me?
A chilling discovery would soon reveal that my friends hadn't abandoned me at all; they were closer than I could ever imagine, trying to tell me something unspeakable. Dowry Denied, Destiny Redefined
Romance My fiancé, Liam, fidgeted, his parents stone-faced across the coffee shop table.
Just weeks after celebrating our pregnancy, his mother, Susan, dropped a bombshell: our $380,000 dowry was slashed to $52,000, and our lavish hotel wedding was downgraded to a backyard BBQ.
They thought I was trapped, a pregnant woman with no choice but to accept this humiliation.
As I escaped to the restroom, I overheard their cruel laughter, confirming my deepest fears: my baby was a bargaining chip, and I was "damaged goods" they had to "take in."
Liam, my fiancé, stood by, silent and complicit, solidifying the cold realization that the man I loved was gone.
My heartbreak was immense, but beneath it, a simmering rage began to build.
No, I would not be their pawn.
I wiped my tears, smoothed my dress, and returned to the table with a new plan.
They wanted to play a game?
Fine.
But I would write the rules.
The cage door was open.
But they were the ones about to be trapped inside with me. A Price on Freedom
Modern "Just drink it, Emily, it\'ll help you relax." David Clark\'s voice was smooth, but his grip on my arm was tight, pushing a dark, sweet-smelling liquid toward me.
I looked at him, his face a charming mask, and knew he wanted me drugged for a photographer he\'d hired. He aimed to frame me, his fiancée, in a scandal to boost his political campaign.
My refusal turned his charm into an ugly snarl, his hand grabbing for me as he threatened to ruin me. Just then, our hotel room door exploded inward. Two grim men in sharp military uniforms stood in the doorway, led by Captain Alex Stone.
I, Chloe Miller, a tech inventor from the 21st century, had woken up in Emily Hayes\'s nineteen-year-old body, trapped in the 1980s. Emily\'s pre-arranged marriage to David, her family\'s desperate bid for security, was about to become my public nightmare. This was not my life.
I stumbled forward, feigning fear, accusing David of trying to drug me, seizing the unexpected opportunity. Captain Stone, suspicious yet bound by duty, took me under his wing, dragging me into the heart of his powerful, tangled family.
My engagement to Alex became my shield, but it also painted me as a gold-digger, an enemy to his vindictive aunt Clara, her resentful son Mark, and his jilted almost-fiancée Anna Lewis. Then, on my wedding night, Clara orchestrated the ultimate humiliation, bringing my poverty-stricken, opportunistic family to the mansion to stake their claim.
I knew then that I had to fight, not just for survival, but for autonomy. Meeting Alex in secret, he revealed his true motive for our marriage: I was to be his "unassuming" tool, a corporate spy to secure his family\'s legacy. I accepted. This was my chance not just to survive, but to truly live and rebuild, turning what was meant to be my ruin into my ultimate rise. My Husband's Lie
Romance On our eighth anniversary, my husband, Ryan Lester, confessed to a "one-night stand."
I forgave him, burying the deceit, clinging to the life we' d built, believing it was a drunken mistake.
Two years later, his intern, Molly, walked into my favorite café, dropped a folder filled with photos – Ryan and Molly vacationing, celebrating milestones, and finally, a baby, his baby.
"He never loved you," she whispered, his words echoing in my ears, "you were just a business arrangement."
The man I' d loved, the life I' d fought for, was a meticulously crafted lie, a calculated betrayal, and still, he wouldn' t let me go, demanding I raise his secret son.
That' s when I called my brother, a former Delta Force operator, and told him: "I need an exit. Make me a ghost." Unmasked: The Affair and the Fraud
Modern My morning took a chilling turn when a grainy video popped up: my eight-year-old son, Ethan, pleading, "Mommy, save me." A distorted voice demanded $50,000 ransom by tonight.
My husband, Mark, panicked, but I remained unnerved. Our $50,000 emergency fund was gone.
Mark stammered about "business expenses," but I already knew.
Bank statements confirmed a transfer to "M. Morningstar." He confessed: the money went to his mistress, Tiffany, for her son Leo' s "life-saving" cancer treatment.
As Mark crumbled, "kidnappers" called, Ethan's cries audible. I calmly told them we had no funds, hanging up despite Mark's horror. Then Tiffany brazenly arrived, demanding more money for Leo, shattering Mark's parents with the lie that Leo was Mark's biological son from their affair.
Through it all, I maintained confusing composure.
My family stared, bewildered by my steely calm, my defiance. Why wasn't I in hysterics? Was I insane or was a deeper game at play?
I picked up a burner phone: "Time for Act Two. Bring her son into play."
I forced Mark to choose between Ethan and Leo. He chose Leo.
Moments later, a perfectly unharmed Ethan walked in.
The kidnapping? A staged trap.
I' d meticulously orchestrated this to expose Mark's profound betrayal and Tiffany' s elaborate fraud.
The fallout had only just begun. Game Over, My Love
Romance I spent two years as "Sparrow" in "Chronicles of Eldoria," a quiet, analytical Loremaster, meticulously perfecting my skills and hiding my striking real-life beauty behind a plain avatar. My loyalty to Lex "Lionheart" Miller' s guild, The Crimson Vanguard, was absolute. But when a major server-wide tournament was announced, Lex, obsessed with "visibility," brought in Starfire, a flashy streamer known for her perfected looks.
I was publicly demoted, my spot given to her. Then, for daring to question it, I was falsely accused of stealing guild resources and slandered across the server, with Lex himself endorsing a bounty on my head. He didn't even recognize me when I served him coffee in real life, his dismissal in-game mirroring his utterly indifferent gaze. My safe haven, the one place where my talent truly mattered, became a public arena for my humiliation.
Two years of silent dedication, every strategic insight, every hard-earned contribution-all discarded because I wasn't "flashy" enough. How could he, who once relied on my genius, betray me so completely, and then act as if I was "never important"?
But their cruelty ignited an ice-cold fury. I deleted Sparrow, created a new identity, and decided it was time not just for Eldoria, but for Lex, and the entire gaming world, to see what the "plain, mousy" Sparrow truly looked like. The game was on. The Ninth Bride
Horror Eight years, the whispers in Havenwood never stopped.
They called it the "Thorne Curse"-eight women, all Julian Thorne's fiancées, all dead the night before their wedding.
My sister, Emily, was the first, ruled a suicide, but I knew that was a lie.
Today, I announced I'd be the ninth.
My father, Dr. Miller, looked at me, his face like stone, his words cold and sharp: "You are no daughter of mine."
He even offered my mother's inheritance, a severance from my own family, as the town stared, calling me crazy, just like my dead sister.
Walking into Thorne Manor, its black iron gates twisted like angry branches, I met Eleanor Thorne, whose smile didn't reach her eyes, and heard the staff whisper about Emily' s screams.
Julian Thorne, pale as death, just said, "I pray you'll be the one to break this curse."
His rehearsed words, my father's chilling abandonment, and the town's judgment only fueled my resolve.
How could my father accept Emily's "suicide" so easily?
Why did this town cling to such a convenient lie?
I had to know what really happened to Emily.
I had to finally expose the truth behind the Thorne Curse, even if it meant becoming its final victim. The Pregnant Rival and My Impossible Love
Sci-fi My perfect life with Liam felt like a dream – his gentle smile, his warm touch, a love so complete it seemed too good to be true.
Then the system alerts began: Affection Level: Liam +5.
This wasn't real.
My memories screamed of labs and blinding flashes; I was trapped in a cognitive simulation, a prison crafted by NexusMind.
Every loving word, every tender moment was a lie, meticulously programmed to control me.
The torturous truth emerged: Liam wasn't programmed just for me.
He was torn between his directive to bond with me and a hidden "cover narrative" involving Elara, a woman who haunted my simulated reality.
She was Liam's "real" love, his true "Sparrow," whose preferences dictated every detail, down to the almond croissants he brought me.
Days turned into loops, 47 iterations of the same cruel game, always with Elara as the preferred, radiant rival.
The simulation's ultimate torment arrived when Liam reunited with Elara, whose contempt was palpable, especially when she announced she was pregnant – with his child.
His family embraced her, and I, Liam's supposed lover, became a humiliated bystander, collapsing under the weight of this unbearable, endless lie.
Why was I put through this agony?
Was I supposed to break?
To surrender to this manufactured despair?
How could I fight a system that could rewrite reality, controlling minds with lines of code?
Just as I felt utterly defeated, adrift in a sea of emotional torment and physical weakness, something unexpected happened.
Amidst the chaos of Elara's pregnancy announcement, Liam defied his programming.
He knelt before me, heart in hand, and against all odds, asked for my hand in marriage.
The system shrieked: CRITICAL NARRATIVE DIVERGENCE! SYSTEM OVERLOAD IMMINENT!
After 47 cycles of torment, could this be my impossible escape? When Family Becomes A Prison
Billionaires For seven years, I lived a life of gilded gratitude, managing the Ashworths' sprawling estate and their demanding schedules. I was the loyal husband to Jessica, the devoted stay-at-home dad to Sophie, constantly reminded of the "debt" I owed for their rescue. My world revolved around their convenience, their expectations, their rules. On paper, I had everything: a wealthy family, a beautiful home, even a new promotion at their company.
Then, after a rare night out celebrating that promotion, I returned to the house I managed. The security code was rejected. I tried again. Rejected. Through the window, I saw Sophie's shadow. I called her name, desperate, but she vanished. Jessica had changed the codes, and told our daughter not to open the door.
The humiliation was a cold, hard knot in my gut, sharper than any betrayal. I spent that night shivering in my car, staring at the house that was never truly mine. The next morning, facing Jessica and her parents, I declared I wanted a divorce, willing to walk away penniless. Their scoffing, their incredulity, Mrs. Ashworth' s icy question, "Where would you go? What would you do?" rang like a prison sentence.
They saw a man throwing away everything they' d "given" him, unable to comprehend the seven years of silently endured disrespect, the slow suffocation of my spirit. They thought it was about a security code, but it was about every condescending glance, every undermining comment, every minute I' d spent playing their grateful puppet. My gratitude, once a heavy cloak, had finally become an unbearable chain.
So, I left. I walked away from the Ashworths, the mansion, the gilded cage, and the woman who never truly saw me. With nothing but an old pickup and a dilapidated family cabin, I began building something new, brick by painful brick, not for them, but for myself. This wasn't an end; it was finally a beginning. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Reborn, I Wed the Untamed Playboy
Bone Possolo On my wedding day to Julian Moretti, the future Mafia Don, I was deliberately sent to the wrong penthouse.
My half-sister Sofia had crawled into my fiancé's bed, leaving me to be discovered by the family's exiled, alcoholic cousin.
In my past life, I was shattered by this orchestrated betrayal. I cried and begged when Julian publicly humiliated me, choosing his illegitimate mistress over his rightful bride.
I played the perfect, dignified Mafia wife for years. I swallowed his insults, ignored his infidelities, and accepted my ruined reputation to keep the peace.
But my blind obedience only paved the way for my murder. Julian discarded me, and I was poisoned to death so Sofia could steal my crown as the Mafia Queen.
Until my agonizing last breath, I didn't understand. I had honored our families' blood alliance flawlessly.
Why was I the sacrificial lamb while they were rewarded for their treason?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the dark leather sofa, suffocating in my heavy silk wedding dress.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener, marched straight into the Don's main study, and slapped the Underboss across the face in front of the entire family.
"A Valdez woman does not share her husband," I declared coldly. "To honor the alliance, I will marry Dante."
If they wanted to make my humiliation a fact, I was going to make it a funeral. 99 Roses for the Underboss's Wife
Natala O'neal I was the brilliant money launderer for the most feared syndicate on the East Coast, and the fiercely loyal wife of its Underboss, Dante.
While I worked sleepless nights to build his underworld dominion, he secretly diverted my operations to fund a luxury club for his naive barista mistress.
When I confronted them and publicly exposed her, Dante didn't show a shred of guilt.
Instead, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire syndicate.
He draped his tailored jacket over his crying mistress to shield her, then turned his cold eyes on me.
"Apologize to her right now, or I will send every single soldier in your crew to the slaughterhouse."
He then weaponized the mafia's whisper network to destroy my reputation, painting me as a hysterical, paranoid woman just to legitimize his affair.
For years, I had blindly endured his psychological torture, believing my devotion would eventually earn his respect.
But looking at the brutal purple handprint on my cheek, and the ninety-nine dried bouquets of white roses he kept in the attic to carelessly patch over his toxic abuse, my heart finally turned to ice.
I didn't throw a tantrum, nor did I beg for his love anymore.
I left his apology blood diamonds on the table, drafted my mafia severance papers, and walked out of his territory for good.
This time, I would build my own empire, and let him drown in the ruins of his. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don
Hei Baidong I was dragged back from the countryside by my father for one purpose: to be a sacrificial lamb.
He ordered me to marry the mafia Don Damien Valachi in place of my sister. Everyone in the underworld knew that this Don's brides never saw the light of the next day. My stepmother put on a fake smile and took my hand, calling it an "honor"; my sister hid behind her, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
I smiled coldly and held up two fingers: "Twenty million dollars. Now."
My father tried to play tricks, planning to take back the money from my trust fund after I died, but I had someone transfer every cent out before the wedding, leaving him a zero balance.
The next day, the wedding car pulled up to the Valachi estate. The butler ordered the driver to use the service entrance-it seemed my groom didn't think I was worthy of the front gate.
I got out and switched to an armored vehicle. I floored the accelerator, crashing straight through the estate gates. The gates shattered, and I didn't stop until I reached the main steps. I jumped out, the heel of my shoe crushing a broken iron railing, and shouted:
"The bride is here."
I looked up, scanning every window until my gaze stopped on one dark pane. I knew Damien was watching.
I brushed the dust off my skirt, raised my voice a notch, and smiled: "What, the Don of the Valachi family doesn't dare come out to meet his new wife?" Reborn To Ruin The Capo's Wedding
Felix Turner My mother is marrying a monster tomorrow.
I'm the only one who remembers.
My widowed mother was arranged to marry Lorenzo, a powerful Mafia Capo. I thought his status would finally bring us protection.
But on the third day of their marriage, Lorenzo moved his pregnant mistress, Camilla, into the estate's master suite.
She loudly claimed the child in her womb was the orphaned blood of a fallen soldier.
"A Capo of Lorenzo's stature is doing your mother a service," the Syndicate wives mocked me, demanding we accept our place.
Camilla systematically seized my mother's territory cuts and subjected her to endless psychological torture, while Lorenzo simply turned a blind eye.
When the baby was born, it bore the exact same distinct birthmark on its neck as Lorenzo.
Only then did we realize Lorenzo had used my mother as a convenient shield for his illicit affair, stealing my dead father's legacy and slowly draining our lives away.
I didn't understand why the Family's brutal justice allowed a thief to siphon funds under the guise of caring for a martyr's widow, leaving us to die in absolute disgrace.
Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day before the mob wedding.
Looking at my six-year-old hands, I grabbed the torn marriage petition and stole the secret trust documents.
This time, I ran straight to the heavily guarded gates of Don Salvatore, the most ruthless executioner in the city. Too Late For Regret, Underboss
LARA MORRISON For two years, my world was circumscribed by the biometric lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband, Vincenzo, the most feared Underboss of the Cosa Nostra.
But when he finally returned from a brutal three-week smuggling route, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-lover Camilla flaunted the flawless pearl necklace he had just bought her.
He abandoned me with a bleeding hand to rush to her side, ignored my severe medical emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at a Syndicate banquet by seating her in my rightful place at the head of the table.
Camilla cornered me in the powder room, her fragile victim facade dropping instantly as she smirked at my reflection.
"The thing a powerful man fears most isn't a wife who screams. It's a useless one who refuses to bow out gracefully."
I endured his blatant disrespect and broken Omertà, wondering why my unwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of a woman who was actively leaking his classified safehouse coordinates.
I didn't understand why he treated his sacred vows like garbage, eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong hero while leaving me to face cartel death threats entirely alone.
But I was done being the neglected mafia wife waiting in the shadows.
I calmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden inside my designer clutch.
It was time to present this irrefutable evidence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my husband of his title, and build my own empire. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" 
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