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Too Late To Beg: The Scapegoat's Revenge
Mafia In my previous life, I spent every waking moment cleaning up the messes of Dante Moretti, the heir to the Chicago Outfit.
I dragged him away from drugs and strippers just so he wouldn't miss his Initiation Ceremony.
Because of my loyalty, he became a Made Man.
But a year later, when he needed a scapegoat for his own incompetence, he didn't thank me.
He framed me for being a rat.
I was forced to watch my parents executed in front of me before I was thrown into a freezing solitary cell to rot.
The last thing I felt was the biting cold leeching the life from my body while he continued to live like a king.
I died realizing my love was just a weapon he used against me.
But when I blinked, the suffocating darkness dissolved into blinding strobe lights.
I was back in the club.
It was the night before his Initiation.
Dante stood in front of me, high and arrogant, demanding his car keys so he could go see a stripper named Roxy instead of preparing for his oath.
In the past, I begged him to stay. I saved his reputation.
This time, I looked at the man who murdered me and felt nothing but ice.
I pressed the keys into his hand.
"Go," I said, condemning him to his own destruction.
"Have the night of your life, Dante." Caught In His Web of Manipulation
Modern My genius boyfriend, Colten, was my savior. I was the "slow" girl he single-handedly tutored into NYU. He built my entire academic future, and I thought our love story was a fairytale.
But after I found another woman's birth control pills in his bag and caught him in lie after lie with his lab partner, Addisyn, I finally left him. The price was brutal: I failed every class and faced expulsion.
Desperate to save myself, I went back. I played the part of his sweet, obedient girlfriend, using his tutoring to ace my retake exams while secretly planning my escape to a new program.
The day my transfer was approved, he ambushed me with a public proposal. In front of a cheering crowd, he got on one knee with a diamond ring, ready to trap me in his perfect life forever.
"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice full of triumph.
But before I could answer, a different woman stepped forward. It was Addisyn, and her hand was resting on her pregnant belly. Rejected for the Omega: The Alpha's Regret
Werewolf To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost.
I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice.
Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra—the orphan he called his "sister."
His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky."
My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later.
During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg.
Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run.
Not to me.
He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled.
Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is."
He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder.
The final thread of my love incinerated into ash.
The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye.
"I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg."
Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground. Married For Convenience, Loved In Death
Romance "Liam, let's get a divorce."
I said the words calmly, five years into being the perfect corporate wife to Liam Hayes, a man who married me for convenience, never love.
My life, carefully constructed on a transactional foundation, shattered when his high school sweetheart, Chloe Miller, returned, not just to reclaim her place in his life, but to tear down mine.
He publicly humiliated me at a charity gala, on a brightly lit stage in front of hundreds, announcing that our entire marriage was merely "a business arrangement."
He branded me a manipulative, jealous monster, accusing me of hiring thugs to attack Chloe, showcasing staged security footage as "proof."
The crowd stared, whispered, and judged, turning me into a national punchline, the "mistake" he was "correcting," while he embraced Chloe as his "true love."
Every eye in the ballroom burned with disgust, and my heart hammered with a raw mixture of shock, betrayal, and a deep, agonizing injustice.
I looked at him, across the sea of judging faces, and finally understood: there was nothing left to fight for, no trust to salvage.
"So, you want a divorce, Liam?" I asked, my voice steady, my decision made.
His cold, firm "Yes" was the final nail, but it was also my liberation; I would walk away, with everything I had secretly built, and leave his twisted world behind. His Lies, Our Undying Love
Billionaires My mother' s last breath was a promise from a man whose name was a myth: Mr. Sterling, my father.
He was supposed to take me in, but instead, I found myself an intruder in a mansion of glass and cold stone, an unwelcome "charity case" to the perfect, privileged twins, Olivia and Liam.
They treated me with disdain, their silent hostility a constant pressure, and at school, the whispers started.
"Chloe Sterling, the illegitimate daughter."
When Tiffany and her cronies began to torment me, physically and emotionally, I was utterly alone, abandoned by the very family I' d been sacrificed to.
Hope shattered, I thought I was nothing but collateral damage, a problem to disappear.
But in my deepest despair, they appeared – Olivia and Liam – no longer my tormentors but furious protectors, wielding a startling truth: my father wasn' t just cold, he was a monster who had crushed their dreams and stolen their inheritance.
Stripped bare, broken, they looked at me, an outsider with nothing left to lose, and whispered, "You have to be our weapon."
And in that moment, the ghost of a girl faded, replaced by a fierce resolve: I would dismantle his empire from within, not just for myself, but for the family he had tried to destroy. Rebuilding Life, Far Away
Romance The first thing Ava noticed on her fifth wedding anniversary was the suffocating silence, a stark contrast to the candlelit dinner she'd envisioned with Ethan.
Instead, he stood by the window, his back to her, and when he finally turned, his face was a mask of cold stone. He told her they weren' t going to their anniversary dinner.
On the table lay two stacks of paper: divorce papers, already signed by him, and a heavy, cream-colored envelope containing a wedding invitation-for her, to marry her childhood friend Liam. The words hit her with the force of a physical blow.
"I don't understand," she whispered, her hands trembling. How could he possibly believe she was in love with Liam, her best friend, who was simply a constant, steady presence in her life? He even showed her an Instagram post of their honeymoon, declaring her love for Ethan, as if to mock her oblivion.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But as Ethan walked away, leaving behind the shattered sound of pottery from his studio, a cold dread settled in her stomach. Someone had put this idea in his head. Someone had done this to them, and Ava was about to find out who. My Coyote, My Vendetta
Mafia The static-laced call from Matthew was a punch to the gut.
He was my partner, my 'boyfriend,' and he was supposedly captured by El Martillo’s cartel.
He demanded I bring half a million dollars, alone, to a remote warehouse, promising it was the only way to save him.
I threw protocol out the window, raced through the Arizona heat, and walked into that dusty, desolate building, ready to face a cartel for him.
But Matthew wasn't tied up or bruised.
He was perfectly fine, and he took the money I’d risked my life for, handing it to El Martillo’s enforcer.
Then, with a chillingly calm voice, he pointed at me and said, "And here’s a bonus for El Martillo.
She’s a top-tier artist.
Now let me go."
The world tilted.
My partner, the man I thought I loved, had sold me out.
Before I could process the betrayal, his fist connected with my face, a brutal blow that knocked me to the ground.
El Martillo’s men closed in, ready for a "welcome party" that meant my agonizing end.
As their boots slammed into me, I saw a familiar tattoo on one of their necks—a coyote.
My coyote.
A design only one other person should know in such detail.
Hope, sharp and desperate, cut through the pain.
This wasn't the end.
This was the beginning of my real mission. My Sweet DC Life: A World Away From Him
Romance My world ended with a Dropbox link, a preview of what I thought was our wedding reel, a montage of the perfect love story Andrew and I had built from our foster home days to City Hall.
Instead, I found professional, high-resolution photos of Andrew with Molly Chavez, his intern, posing as the ideal political power couple, his hand possessively on her back, her face beaming at his side.
When Molly called, feigning an apology for a "mix-up," I heard Andrew' s voice in the background, clear as day: "She won't do anything. She needs me and this life."
That devastating line shattered me, making all his dismissals and forgotten promises click, revealing I was just a discarded relic of his past, not his partner.
But the Gabrielle he knew, the one who meekly accepted his condescension and believed she needed him, died right then; I picked up my phone, not to call him, but to call my lawyer, ready to draw up divorce papers, effective immediately. No More Tears for Him
Romance Five years ago, I gave everything – my dreams, my health, every last penny – to save the man I loved from a fatal heart condition.
I scrubbed pots on double shifts, my hands raw, convinced I was putting my love on the path to recovery.
But his fiancée, Jennifer, had other plans.
She showed him doctored photos, whispered lies, and made it seem like I was selling my body, not my soul, for him.
He believed her instantly, threw the money back in my face, and walked away, spitting that I deserved to rot.
Now, five years later, those words are a cold prophecy: my kidneys are failing, I have six months to live.
As I stumbled out of the free clinic, dizzy and broken, I saw him again-Ethan Scott, now a superstar music producer, stepping out of a luxury car with Jennifer, her hand protectively over a pregnant belly.
They were heading into the exclusive private hospital next door, a world away from my despair.
My body chose that moment to betray me; I collapsed, scattering my pills and medical records on the dirty sidewalk.
He stared down at me, his eyes colder than any winter, then watched as Jennifer ground her heel into my hand and had my lifeline swept into a trash can.
He even threw a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at my feet, declaring I was worth less than a donation to an animal shelter.
How could he believe such monstrous lies?
How could he, the man I sacrificed everything for, be so utterly blind to the truth of what I endured for him?
What secret did Jennifer hold over him that made him choose her cruel deception over the life-saving act I committed? The Five Hundred Thousand Dollar Lie
Romance Three years of playing my guitar until my fingers bled, enduring stale smoke and leering eyes in a Vegas lounge.
It was all for him, my fiancé Jax, to pay off a $500,000 debt that threatened his family's legacy.
Finally, the "contract" was fulfilled, the debt paid, and I was on my way home, dreaming of our reunion.
But when I reached our old apartment, it was empty, a foreclosure notice taped to the door.
Panic clawed at my throat as his phone went straight to voicemail, over and over.
Then, a notification from a music blog changed everything, showing Jax, my fiancé, beaming with Savannah Monroe at a high-profile Nashville party.
The caption: "Nashville's new power couple, Jax Thorne and Savannah Monroe, celebrate their groundbreaking merger."
My phone clattered to the dusty floor, my mind unable to grasp the words.
I stumbled to the penthouse address listed, only to overhear their voices dripping with casual cruelty.
"She'd do anything for me," Jax bragged, his voice cold, "Pure profit."
Savannah's syrupy drawl followed, "The loan shark? Seriously? You hired an out-of-work actor from Memphis."
My blood ran cold as the truth hit me: the debt, the loan shark, the three years of hell-all a lie, a twisted game orchestrated by the man I loved.
"Revenge," Jax hissed, "Her father stole a hit song from my dad. Ruined him. Drove him to suicide. I wanted her to feel what it was like to have everything taken away."
My entire life, my sacrifice, my love-it was all a setup, a cruel, elaborate joke.
His father was a jealous drunk, a gambler, and the 'stolen song' was a generous gift, not a theft.
I was a pawn in a revenge plot based on a lie, completely broken, with nothing left.
But as I stood there in the Nashville sun, clutching a small, crumpled piece of paper-a mysterious number for "a true emergency"-a desperate, fluttering hope ignited.
I had never used it.
With trembling hands, I dialed.
"Rothschild, private office."
The name echoed in my mind, a legend.
"I... I need to speak to Marcus Rothschild," I whispered, "It's an emergency." When Love Turns to Vengeance
Romance My marriage to Mark seemed solid, our life comfortable, until his college reunion.
I was there as the supportive wife, trying to ignore a growing unease.
Then I saw him, too close to Jessica, his high school sweetheart and now his sister-in-law.
The "Ten-Year Love Blueprint" he' d detailed for her-not me-was just the first blow.
That night, I found Jessica kissing my drunk husband in our home, then overheard the devastating truth: her son, Kevin, was Mark' s, not his brother' s.
My perfectly constructed life imploded as Mark dismissed my pain and his mother furiously defended his affair.
A reckless car crash, caused by Jessica, led to my miscarriage; Mark, shockingly, blamed me, then his mother coldly announced, "You weren't strong enough."
Even my own parents, dependent on Mark's generous support, disowned me for daring to expose his betrayal.
Abandoned and broken, the injustice was crushing: how could everyone I loved betray me so completely, leaving me a disposable substitute in a life that was never truly mine?
The agony of losing everything, especially my baby, felt unbearable.
But a fateful accident unexpectedly offered a dark opportunity for ultimate escape and rebirth, transforming me into a vengeful phantom armed with a meticulous plan for absolute justice. From Jilted Fiancée to President's Enforcer
Modern The champagne flute felt colder than the ballroom air at my lavish engagement party to Senator Ethan Prescott, D.C.'s golden boy.
In my first life, this night had been a triumph.
But tonight, Isabella Vance, Ethan' s mistress, brazenly crashed the party, heavily pregnant and dramatically announcing, "Ethan, this baby is yours."
Chaos swallowed the room; cameras flashed, but I felt a chilling calm.
In my previous life, this betrayal had led to my career' s ruin, a faked scandal, and a lonely "accident" – Ethan and Izzy' s masterpiece of destruction.
Back then, I was broken; now, I simply placed my flute down and announced, clear-eyed and cold, "Our engagement is over."
They continued their facade, building a new narrative and trying to publicly shame me at a White House State Dinner.
Ethan mocked me, Izzy sneered at my simple dress, and their cronies tried to have me escorted out, believing I was a pathetic ghost from their past.
They thought I was weak, a broken woman clinging to the fringes of their brilliant new lives.
Every condescending word, every dismissive glance, was a fresh wound, a reminder of the injustice that had cost me everything.
Did they truly think I'd just vanish?
My heart, once shattered, was now a block of ice, focused solely on retribution.
This time, I was no one's pawn.
Just as they tried to completely discredit me, President Thompson himself appeared, announcing my true status as his "most trusted advisor," shielding me with the full weight of his office.
My father's legacy, my own history saving the President's life, suddenly became my indisputable shield and sword.
The real game had just begun. Thorne's Penance, Elara's Triumph
Romance I once believed Reverend Thorne was my savior.
Found freezing in the remote Alabama woods at five, abandoned by my own cruel mother, he offered me a home, a fragile hope within the church orphanage.
But that hope shattered when, at eighteen, he learned of my innocent affection.
Fearing scandal, he sent me on a deadly mission, deep into the dangerous Ozark Mountains-a place guarded by hostile hermits. He knew it was a death sentence.
I died a brutal death, but my spirit lingered, unseen.
I watched as he dismissed my murder, slandered my memory, and even married my cruel half-sister, Seraphina.
My very essence was erased, my final desperate pleas unheard, my ghost cast out as "evil." Every shred of dignity, every memory of kindness, was crushed.
How could a man I idolized, who once offered salvation, betray me so utterly? Why was my tormentor allowed triumph while I faded into oblivion?
But then, a chilling miracle: I awoke, a child once more, with every agonizing memory intact.
The same frozen woods, the same false savior offering his hand.
This time, I ran.
This time, I refuse to be a victim.
My second life begins now, and this time, I choose my own path to healing, love, and a justice far sweeter than revenge. 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.
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. Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." 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. The Don's Pawn, A Queen's Revenge
Rabbit My family sent me to marry into the enemy, a ruthless Don in Chicago. From the moment I arrived, I was treated like a common whore, a pawn to be humiliated and discarded. But they made one fatal mistake: they thought I was a lamb, when I was really a wolf in disguise.
Sent to Chicago for an arranged marriage with Don Vincenzo Moretti, Isabella Falcone arrived at his hostile estate, instantly an unwelcome outsider.
Hostility turned personal. Publicly shamed and trapped in Vincenzo's bed by his cousin, the Don accused me of whoring for family favor.
I faced constant humiliation. Family insulted me, staff trapped me. Vincenzo was cold. A rival framed me with a planted diamond, and the Consigliere declared me a thief, ordering soldiers to drag me away.
Branded a criminal by a rigged game, injustice fueled a cold, clear rage. I was a pawn, but I would show them a queen.
My fear hardened into lethal resolve. Alida Savage thought she'd destroyed me, but only declared war on the wrong woman. I would tear down all who dared to underestimate me.
His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns
Zaccaria Linn On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table.
Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen.
"Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over."
I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward.
Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant.
She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest.
As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me.
He hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you."
The betrayal didn't stop there.
When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police.
When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations.
He declined the call.
He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife.
That was the moment the chain broke.
As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come.
I opened the door and jumped into the dark.
Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement.
Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one. 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." Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit
Elisha Plasket I sat at the head of the mahogany table, the heavy heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the future Queen of the Cosa Nostra.
But the man beside me—Jax Viles, the most feared Don in New York—had his hand resting possessively on the thigh of the woman sitting to his right.
She wasn't his fiancée. I was.
The humiliation didn't stop at dinner. Jax moved her into my home, turned my dance studio into her closet, and when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, he stepped over my broken body to comfort her because she was "shaken up."
He started a bloody gang war just to defend her honor, yet ignored my desperate calls warning him of an ambush.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was furniture—a fixture that was expected to be silent and useful. He would burn the world to ash for her, but for me, he wouldn't even skip a meeting.
So, while he was out celebrating his victory for her, I didn't wait for him to come home.
I left the engagement ring in the trash can next to the toilet.
On his desk, I left a single note: "I release you from the oath. I hope she's worth the war."
By the time he realized his mistake and came looking for his shadow, I was already gone, ready to become the Queen of my own life. 
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