Shelby Helliwell
14 Published Stories
Shelby Helliwell's Books and Stories
Divorcing The Don: Rise Of The Queen
Mafia For seven years, I was the dutiful wife of the city's most ruthless Mafia Don, enduring his coldness and his family's constant disdain.
Until a text from his new protégé lit up my phone during a syndicate dinner.
She was moving her exotic pet into my dead child's locked nursery.
When I confronted him, Dante didn't care. He publicly shattered a crystal glass just because my fingers had brushed it, treating my touch like a contagion.
His mother mocked my inferior bloodline in front of the hardened Capos, threatening to destroy my mother's diner if I didn't submit to the protégé.
Even worse, I soon discovered the devastating truth.
This very protégé had tampered with my pregnancy medication three years ago, causing my agonizing miscarriage. And when faced with the undeniable evidence, Dante still chose to protect her over our dead heir.
He thought I was just a powerless, barren civilian who would swallow her grief and bow to his mafia empire forever.
He didn't know I was actually the Boss of the Haven Syndicate—the untouchable shadow board that controlled the lifelines of his entire operation.
I stared at the man who had reduced our child's memory to an inconvenience, and calmly pulled out my phone.
"Initiate the formal severing of my marriage," I ordered my men. "We are burning his whole operation to the ground." Rejected By The Heir, Claimed By The True Alpha
Werewolf Today was supposed to be the day I bonded with Donn Carlisle, the heir of the Silver Moon Pack.
For a Wolfless girl like me, it was supposed to be salvation. A name. A place. A future no one could take away.
Then, minutes before the ceremony, I heard my stepsister giggle behind the altar.
I found Donn with Brianda pressed against the ancient oak table where our vows were meant to be sealed. Her dress was hiked to her waist. His hands were on her body. And when Brianda saw me, she smiled, placed a hand on her swollen belly, and let me understand exactly how long they had been betraying me.
Donn did not beg.
He did not even look ashamed.
He only adjusted his clothes and sneered, “You’re Wolfless. You can’t complete a true bonding anyway. This was only ever a formality.”
So I burned the ceremonial veil.
When the whole pack rushed in, I expected outrage. Instead, Donn’s mother blamed me for failing to keep my own man. Brianda sobbed that they were fated mates. My own family looked ready to drag me home and bury the scandal before it stained their precious golden daughter.
They thought I would cry.
They thought I would disappear.
They forgot that a cornered woman has nothing left to lose.
That night, I walked into the empty chambers of Ansel Carlisle, the legendary Alpha everyone believed dead. I took his silver-pommeled dagger, entered the family council, and cut open my palm before them all.
“I pledge myself to the true Alpha,” I said.
If they wanted to make me a discarded bride, I would make myself untouchable.
I bound myself to a dead man and became Ansel Carlisle’s widow.
Only Ansel was not dead.
He came back from the northern border broken, unconscious, and trapped in a soul coma no healer could cure. The family called it a miracle. I called it a disaster.
Because now I am not the widow of a fallen hero.
I am the Luna of a living Alpha.
And according to the healers, I may be the only one who can wake his wolf. He Rejected Me, So I Married the Lycan King
Werewolf For ten years, I was the invisible backbone of the Silver Creek Pack.
I cooked the books to hide Alpha Ethan's gambling debts. I ghostwrote the peace treaties that kept our borders safe. I warmed his bed every night, waiting for the bite that would mark me as his Luna.
On the night of our tenth anniversary, I didn't get a ring.
I got replaced.
Ethan walked into the gala with Ashley, a wealthy heiress dripping in gold, clinging to his arm.
When I tried to speak to him, he didn't just ignore me. He used an Alpha Command—a biological weapon that hijacked my free will.
"Go to the kitchen," he ordered, forcing my knees to hit the floor in front of the entire pack. "Ashley is sensitive to the smell of stress. You're ruining her night."
He humiliated me in the house I helped build. He wore the crown I polished for him, thinking I was nothing more than a glorified housekeeper he could discard at will.
He forgot that while he held the title, I held the passwords.
I didn't go to the kitchen. I went to the office.
I initiated a permanent wipe of the cloud backups, reformatted the local servers, and deleted ten years of financial strategies.
Then, I snapped the mate bond and walked out into the rain.
Three days later, I walked back into the conference room.
Ethan laughed, thinking I was there to beg for my job back.
I threw a foreclosure contract onto the table.
"I'm not here to serve drinks, Ethan. I'm the new owner of your debt. Get out of my chair." Severed Bond: The White Wolf's Second Chance
Werewolf My husband stood over our son's cold, blue body, his eyes filled with pure hatred.
"You killed him," Eli growled, using his Alpha tone to force me into submission. "You were too busy with your research to watch our heir."
I broke. I accepted the punishment. I let them drag me to the water cells where the silver burned my skin.
I let his "cousin" Kasey pour my son’s ashes into a filthy sewer grate while Eli stood by and watched, stone-faced.
He stripped me of my title, my clothes, and threw me into the Rogue lands to rot.
But in the ruins of the old temple, the Moon Goddess showed me the truth.
I wasn't the only one distracted that day.
While our three-year-old screamed for his daddy from the water, Eli heard him. He heard him, but he didn't come.
Because he was in the boathouse, entangled in the sheets with Kasey. He ignored our son's dying cries to satisfy his lust.
The pain was too much. To survive the agony, I chose the Ritual of Oblivion. I paid the ultimate price: I erased my memories of them. All of them.
Years later, as the revered White Wolf Luna, I walked down the grand staircase of the Lycan palace.
A man I didn't recognize fell to his knees in front of the crowd, weeping, clutching at the hem of my silver dress.
"Harper, please! It’s me, Eli! Remember our baby!"
I tilted my head, looking at him with polite indifference.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"I have no mate named Eli." My Escape From His Poisonous Love
Modern For seven years, my husband, Dwight, was a saint for publicly forgiving me for letting his mother die.
Today, he let my father die. And I learned his forgiveness was just a seven-year-long lie.
He refused to send a medical helicopter, choosing instead to listen to his new, twenty-two-year-old lover, Charity, preach about the universe's plan.
At my father's funeral, she crashed the service in a wedding dress, drew a clown smile on my father's face with lipstick, and announced she was pregnant.
"You're a barren wasteland," she sneered. "A broken woman he can't stand the sight of."
That's when I understood. His forgiveness was never real. It was a slow-burning revenge for a crime his own mother had orchestrated against me-a crime that left me unable to ever have children.
He thought he had taken everything from me. He was wrong. He left me one thing: revenge. And I was about to burn his entire world to the ground. A Mother's Heart, A Cruel Lie
Romance I went to the bank to set up a surprise trust fund for my twins' sixth birthday. For six years, I’d been the loving wife of tech mogul Gavyn Dunlap, and I believed my life was a perfect dream.
But my application was rejected. The manager informed me that according to the official birth certificates, I wasn't their legal mother.
Their mother was Iliana Dudley—my husband’s first love.
I raced to his office, only to overhear the devastating truth from behind his door. My entire marriage was a sham. I was chosen because I resembled Iliana, hired as a surrogate to carry her biological children.
For six years, I had been nothing more than a free nanny and a "comfortable placeholder" until she decided to return.
That night, my children saw my heartbroken state and their faces twisted in disgust.
"You look awful," my daughter sneered, before giving me a shove.
I tumbled down the stairs, my head cracking against the post. As I lay there bleeding, they simply laughed.
My husband walked in with Iliana, glanced at me on the floor, and then promised to take the kids for ice cream with their "real mom."
"I wish Iliana was our real mom," my daughter said loudly as they left.
Lying alone in a pool of my own blood, I finally understood. The six years of love I had poured into this family meant nothing to them.
Fine. Their wish was granted. Her Shattered Heart, His Cruel Betrayal
Horror My husband's pregnant mistress disappeared, and he accused me of kidnapping her.
To force a confession, he dragged a writhing burlap sack into the living room, threatening to beat the "stray dog" inside if I didn't tell him where she was.
I screamed that our son, Jalen, was inside. He just laughed, calling me a liar as he raised an iron poker.
I watched, helpless, as he brought it down again and again, ignoring my pleas.
Through the blood-soaked fabric, I heard our son's last, faint whisper: "Daddy…"
As if that wasn't enough, he then had his men drag me to a back room to punish me for his mistress’s supposed miscarriage.
They left me broken on the floor, my son dead and my soul shattered. With nothing left to live for, I threw myself into the ocean.
But I was saved. And when I opened my eyes, I made a vow. I would return, and I would drag them both down to the hell they built for me. A Jilted Lover's Triumphant Return
Romance The new house smelled of fresh paint, a fresh start for Ava Miller, a successful tech entrepreneur, her loving husband Liam, and their two-year-old son, Leo.
Her peaceful suburban dream shattered when a car pulled up, and out stepped her aunt and cousin-faces she hadn't seen since she left her old life behind.
"Ava! We heard you moved into the neighborhood! What a surprise!" her aunt chirped, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.
Her cousin' s sly glance past Ava signaled trouble: "We ran into Ethan Hayes's mother... She was saying how much Ethan still misses you."
The name hung in the air, a poisonous cloud. Ethan Hayes, her college sweetheart, the man who publicly humiliated her by announcing his engagement to another woman at their supposed engagement party.
They twisted the knife, claiming Ethan still pined for her, ignoring her cold silence, daring to suggest reconciliation.
Then came the final insult, "His mother said he' s not happy with Chloe. He' s still waiting for you, Ava."
A strange calm settled over Ava. The heartbroken girl they knew was dead.
"I appreciate your concern," Ava said, a polite, chilling smile on her face. "But I think there's been a misunderstanding."
She pulled Liam forward, her husband of two years, and gestured to Leo, playing happily in the yard.
"This is my husband, Liam. And that's our son, Leo."
Their smiles shattered, replaced by stunned silence. The image they held of her-the pining, discarded lover-crumbled before the woman she had become.
After all this time, after all she had endured, did they truly believe she was still the same person, waiting for the man who broke her?
Her past, once a painful scar, became her shield. The calm in her voice held a dangerous promise: Her life with Liam was not a misunderstanding, but a meticulously built fortress against the ghosts she had outrun. Three Years, A Shattered Reality With The Heir
Romance Three years. Three years of marriage to Olivia Reed, the woman who redefined my world.
On our anniversary, I went to sign the final papers for our joint asset trust, a mere formality.
But the city clerk told me words that shattered my reality: "According to our records, you are not legally married to Olivia Reed."
My laughter died in my throat when she added, "There is a record of a marriage for Ms. Olivia Reed... to Alex Thorne. It was filed two years ago."
Alex Thorne. My protégé. The talented young architect I'd mentored, the man I trusted after our ceremony.
The wedding certificate, the grand gestures, the vows-all lies. Every single one.
I pieced it together: Olivia's sad eyes, her whispers of a "replacement" while I was overseas, her tears and apologies for being "paranoid" about Alex when I returned.
Now, I heard her cooing to him on the phone, "To him, I'm his devoted wife. To the world, you' re my husband. It' s a perfect arrangement. I have his love and your legal status. I have everything."
Everything. And I had nothing. I was a sham. A joke.
The love I felt, a towering structure, crumbled to dust. There was no rage. Just a cold, empty void.
Then, the sculpture crashed. Olivia chose him, shielding him, letting the heavy steel frame slam into me, crushing bones.
Lying broken in the hospital, I watched her dote on him while ignoring me. I realized she had intended to erase me.
This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't an accident. This was a brutal choice, a calculated punishment.
Ethan Miller, the trusting fool, was dead.
I decided then. I wasn' t confronting her. I was disappearing. And then, when she least expected it, I would take it all away. His Cruelest Game
Romance For three torturous years, I lived as a ghost in my own life.
Haunted by the car crash I believed killed my sister, Savannah, and crippled her boyfriend, Ethan, I dedicated myself to his care.
He was my tormentor, using my guilt as his chain.
Then, one stormy night, I walked into a honky-tonk bar and heard the laughter.
It was Ethan, boasting to his friends: "Three whole years she's bought it. Wiping my ass, feeding me like a baby, all because she thinks she crippled me."
My world didn't just crack; it shattered when I saw him stand and dance.
His paralysis was a lie.
My three years of devotion, his meticulous act of revenge.
He didn't stop there.
He moved me to a dusty tack room, forced me to watch him replace my sister, and then, in a sadistic climax, lured me to a hunting cabin.
There, he and his friends humiliated me, filming my terror.
Broken, I faked my own death, escaping to Oregon, shedding my identity to become Anna.
I found love and a future, finally breathing again.
But fate has a cruel sense of irony.
Ethan, now truly paralyzed by psychosomatic trauma triggered by my "death," was sent to a clinic in my new city.
Our eyes met across a busy street, and his desperate cry, "Sarah!" tore through my new life.
He tried to control me again, but I was no longer the girl he broke.
Standing tall with the man I loved, I unleashed three years of silenced truth.
"You killed Savannah," I declared, exposing his role in her desperation.
"And the hunting cabin? You filmed that for amusement!"
He stared, utterly defeated, as the truth of his monstrous acts finally consumed him.
This time, I didn't run.
I stood defiant, free, ready to marry the man who showed me what true love was.
My past was behind me, and my own future, filled with quiet happiness, had just begun. Poisoned Love, Buried Truth
Fantasy Eight months pregnant with twins, I lived a dream on the vast Montana ranch with my loving husband, Ethan.
That dream shattered when Pastor Davies and Ethan' s "friend" Brenda Hayes poisoned Ethan' s mind, twisting my pregnancy into a "bad omen" and my babies into "another man' s."
Believing them, Ethan turned monstrous. He forced a C-section, ripping our twins from me, burying them in unmarked graves. Weak and heartbroken, I endured public humiliation, snakebites, forced confessions, and his chilling contempt, until my last breath in a freezing cellar. He believed Brenda's every cruel, manipulative lie.
How could the man I loved, my twins' father, believe such monstrous fabrications? This brutal betrayal, driven by pure malice, burned with an unbearable injustice.
But my death was only release. My spirit watched as Ethan, finally shown Brenda' s horrific deceit, plummeted into unbearable regret. He unleashed brutal revenge on those who destroyed us. While his sanity fractured and his world dissolved, I, Sarah, found peace, reunited with my beloved twins in a new beginning, leaving his tormented soul to eternity's judgment. Eighteen Again: And He's Out
Modern The acrid smell of smoke choked Sarah Miller, her leg a searing agony as flames licked at her home.
Just moments ago, her husband, Rick, had shoved her down the stairs, breaking her leg, then watched calmly as the faulty wiring he ignored ignited their house.
Trapped and engulfed by the roaring fire, Sarah screamed his name, but no answer came.
He was gone, abandoning her for worthless papers, leaving her for dead in the inferno stoked by his own negligence and rage.
Twenty years of selfless support, of being his scapegoat and bankroll, all culminated in this cruel, final act.
The betrayal burned hotter than the flames.
How could the man she sacrificed everything for simply leave her to die, blaming her even in her last moments?
The injustice, the monumental waste of her life, consumed her.
Her bitter last thought: "I wish I' d never met Rick Peterson. I wish I could do it all over again, without him."
Then, darkness.
She awoke, not in a choking inferno, but in her childhood bedroom, sunlight streaming through familiar windows.
It was 1995.
She was eighteen again, at the cusp of meeting the man who would ruin her.
Her wish had come true.
This time, things would be different.
This time, Rick Peterson would feel the full force of a woman who finally chose herself. The Architect's Reckoning
Romance I was on top of the world.
Fresh off winning the National Design Award, my future as an architect in D.C. was limitless.
Seraphina, the dazzling daughter of a Senator, was on my arm.
That night, I planned to propose.
But then came Marcus, her war-hero cousin, and everything shattered.
In front of the city's elite, Sera chose him, declaring her new path, and publicly humiliated me with a stinging slap across my face.
The next day, Senator Vance "informally" rescinded our engagement and canceled my project.
My promising D.C. career was over, replaced by an exile to a grueling, isolated project in rural West Virginia.
Broken and alone, I fell desperately ill, clinging to life in a rundown cabin.
While fighting for survival, I received their wedding announcement-a seemingly cruel final blow, a double happiness symbol that felt like a twisted joke.
I couldn't comprehend how the woman who had promised me forever could discard me so utterly, so publicly, then send a joyous wedding invitation while I lay dying.
Was I truly so worthless that I deserved this utter destruction, this banishment where no one cared if I lived or died?
But fate had other plans.
A local herbalist, Clara, found me, nursed me back to health, and saved my life.
We built a quiet, real life together, found true happiness, and started a family.
Now, five years later, a husband and father, I' m back in D.C., and the ghost of my past, Seraphina, is demanding answers. The Girl Who Forgot Love
Romance I woke up disoriented, the harsh hospital lights blinding me.
My parents, faces pale and strained, sat by my bedside.
They said I' d had a breakdown, a public humiliation at the Spring Fling. My boyfriend, Ethan. He had betrayed me.
But as they spoke, a chilling truth settled over me: I remembered the facts, but the feelings were gone.
The doctors explained it as dissociative amnesia – specifically, all emotional connection to Ethan had vanished.
He visited, demanding I "remember us," utterly confused, even arrogant, when I offered only polite detachment. His parents tried too, bringing mementos of our past.
I felt nothing but a quiet void where love, or even anger, should have been. Everyone around me was frantic for the 'old Ava,' heartbroken and distraught.
But I wasn't.
There was just this calm, unsettling emptiness, like reading a sad story about a character I barely knew.
Why was everyone else more upset about my memory loss than I was? Was I broken? Who was I without the girl who'd loved him so fiercely, only to be shattered?
Feeling like a disconnected observer in my own life, a fraudulent smile plastered on my face, I knew I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to find out who Ava Miller was, now.
Desperate for answers, I sought professional help. And that' s when destiny, or perhaps just a very small town, intervened.
My new psychologist was Liam Walker: my kind, long-lost childhood friend, whose presence felt strangely, comfortingly like home. You might like
My Bestie's Dad Popped My Cherry
Oye's Pen "You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?"
I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin.
"You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs.
"Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please."
"Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled.
"Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?
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. 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? The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. Rejected By My Family, Desired By The Mafia
Rain_R Camille Laurent was stolen at birth. Swapped by a greedy nanny, abandoned without a second thought, and erased from her rightful place in one of the most powerful families in the country.
While the real heiress struggled to survive, the nanny's daughter, Talia, was raised in luxury as the beloved jewel of the Laurent family, pampered by Camille's parents, adored by her three brothers, and even promised to the prestigious Matteo Devereux through a childhood engagement arranged by their grandparents.
Then the truth came out.
Six months ago, Camille was finally brought back to the Laurent family. To protect the family reputation and prove their devotion to their bloodline, the Laurent patriarch transferred 35% of his personal shares into Camille's name overnight, instantly making her one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country.
It brought anxiety to all the Laurent family. But what they don't know.is that Camille never needed them.
Behind her elegant smile lies a woman filled with secrets powerful enough to shake the whole family. She's a miraculous healer capable of curing the incurable poisons.
Yet despite everything, her family still chooses Talia.
Every accusation against Talia is forgiven. Every scheme against Camille is brushed aside. Even Matteo, the man who was supposed to be Camille's fiancé-cannot let go of the woman he always believed belonged by his side.
But while the Laurent family underestimates Camille, another man begins to see exactly who she is.
Dante Moretti.
The ruthless heir of an old-money dynasty. A billionaire CEO worshipped by the public.and the merciless king of a criminal empire hidden beneath the city's glittering surface. When Dante is poisoned by a rival syndicate with a deadly toxin no doctor can cure, he offers a fortune for anyone who can save him.
Only Camille can. Their deal is simple: she becomes his personal physician, and he gives her anything she wants. The Runaway Sister's Abandoned Mafia Heir
Julian Reid My sister abandoned her newborn baby at a hospital and fled the country. The father was Dante, the absolute sovereign of the city's underworld.
My mother frantically ordered me to hide the child to save our skins. But I refused to cower. I took the baby straight to the Mafia Don's fortress and demanded he take responsibility.
For the first critical days of the baby's life, I was the only one there. I paced my rundown apartment with a sick infant, spending my last savings, while my sister was living it up in Vancouver with her offshore money.
But months later, when Dante officially claimed the boy and placed us under his ultimate protection, my sister and mother suddenly came back.
They put on a pathetic weeping act in Dante's office.
"I just want my son back. I was just so scared," my sister sobbed, demanding custody of the Mafia heir.
My own mother had actually helped her pack, advising her to dump the baby on me so she could escape. Now, seeing Dante's limitless wealth, they wanted to reap the rewards.
They treated me like a disposable pawn, expecting me to quietly hand over the child I had saved. How could my own blood be so shamelessly greedy?
But they underestimated me, and they underestimated the Don.
Looking at the ruthless Mafia boss, I calmly exposed their treason, forcing his final judgment.
This time, I was claiming my place. 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.
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