Wu Xiaoyan
13 Published Stories
Wu Xiaoyan's Books and Stories
A Jilted Heart, A Mafia Don's Love
Mafia For four years, Ember traced the bullet scar on Chace's chest, believing it proved his unwavering protection. Their anniversary gala was supposed to be the night he finally proposed, a symbol of their future. Instead, she stood frozen, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto Karyn Warren's finger—the daughter of a rival family.
His voice, amplified by the silent ballroom, declared, "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets." Her heart incinerated. Publicly humiliated, she was ordered to remain his mistress, threatened with her dead mother's grave. Chace, confident her father's debts trapped her, forced her from their shared penthouse.
He then used a fake "Help. Sick." text to lure Ember to a club, only to humiliate her further, calling her "loyal like a dog." Karyn ordered a soldier to "touch" Ember while Chace watched, indifferent. With no other choice, Ember drank a punishment cup containing wine she was severely allergic to.
She collapsed, suffocating on the club floor, as Chace and Karyn watched, annoyed. Waking in a sterile hospital room, her throat raw, she faced Chace's cold relief and Karyn's dismissive cruelty. The betrayal was absolute, the injustice sickening.
But moments before, in her despair, Ember had invoked a Blood Oath. She texted Keith Mosley, the ruthless Don, accepting his price for her father's debt: marriage. She would become his, and she was ready to pay. The Unwanted Mate: Her Secret White Wolf Identity
Werewolf My Alpha husband stood in the hospital room, his eyes cold as ice. He wasn't there to comfort our daughter; he was there to harvest her.
"Take her essence," he commanded the doctors without a shred of hesitation. "Timothy needs the transfusion. He is the future Alpha. Your daughter is just a useless runt."
I screamed, clutching the hem of his suit, begging him to stop. I tried to tell him that our little Lily wasn't weak—she was a late bloomer because she carried the rare, powerful blood of the White Wolf.
But Jaimen didn't care. He used the Alpha Voice to paralyze me.
"I command you to silence yourself, Omega."
I was forced to stand frozen, a prisoner in my own body, as they drained my three-year-old daughter dry. She died screaming in agony, sacrificed to save Timothy, the sickly son he had with his mistress, Ivanna.
With Lily's body still warm on the bed, Jaimen looked at me with pure disgust and severed our mate bond.
"I reject you. Get this trash out of my territory."
I was dragged out to the borderlands and beaten to death in the mud, clutching a cheap locket, while he celebrated saving his "heir."
He didn't know the truth.
He didn't know that he had just murdered a prodigy to save a lie.
Three years later, he finally ran a DNA test on his beloved Timothy.
The results showed zero match to the Alpha line, but a perfect match to a filthy Rogue.
That night, the Alpha went mad.
And I watched from the afterlife as he slaughtered everyone involved, begging a ghost for forgiveness that would never come. A Love That Never Was
Romance I was a brilliant scientist, but in my family, I was always the shadow to my perfect, manipulative sister, Jetta. On the day I was set to receive the prestigious Harrison Award, my family was only focused on her graduation party, dismissing my life's work as a mere hobby.
That same day, I was brutally attacked in my own lab. The men who did it used Jetta's keycard and sneered that she sent them to "teach me a lesson" and put me in my place.
Bleeding out on the cold floor, I made one last desperate call to my fiancé, Hayden.
"Stop being so dramatic," he snapped before hanging up. "This is Jetta's big day. Don't you dare ruin it for attention."
My mother came downstairs, saw nothing but a mess, and left a voicemail scolding me for being selfish.
My soul ripped free from my body, forced to watch them celebrate. I saw the love in Hayden's eyes-not for me, but for Jetta. To them, my death was just another one of my "attention-seeking stunts."
Now, as a ghost trapped in my own home, I watch them find my body and slowly piece together their neglect from my journal. But they've overlooked the one thing that will expose it all: the memory pendant around my neck, which recorded every horrifying second of the truth. A Body Double For His Obsession
Romance I was an artist hired to be a companion for the reclusive billionaire, Kane Miller. I fell in love with the broken man I thought I was saving.
Then I discovered the truth. He was secretly recording our intimate moments, only to use deepfake technology to replace my face with my stepsister Coral' s. I wasn't his lover; I was a body double for his obsession.
When Coral framed me for assault, Kane didn't just believe her-he watched as his guards beat me. Later, he sent thugs to shatter my right hand, destroying my career as an artist.
To protect Coral's reputation before her wedding, he had me thrown in a detention center, coldly calling me a "plaything" he was done with.
He destroyed my body, my career, and my heart, all for a woman who was lying to his face.
But in that cold cell, I got an offer from the stepfather who had once cast me out. He wanted me to marry a disabled tech heir, Keegan Marks, in exchange for my mother's massive trust fund.
I took the deal. I walked out of that jail, left the city, and flew to marry a stranger, finally choosing to escape the man who broke me. His First Love, My Last Goodbye
Romance The world came back in a blur of twisting metal and the horrifying screech of tires. One moment, we were driving. The next, a truck had run the red light.
In the passenger seat, my head throbbing, I watched my boyfriend, Adrian, scramble to comfort his first love, Cassie, who was crying in the backseat. He didn't even glance back at me, his girlfriend of five years, as he helped her out of the wrecked car.
Paramedics arrived. Through the haze of pain, I watched Adrian hover over Cassie, refusing to leave her side for a second. It was like I wasn't even there anymore. He didn't remember my birthday, never knew my favorite food, and never cared that I was allergic to the flowers he bought for me, the same ones Cassie loved.
I had been a side character in their love story, a placeholder until the real star of his life returned. I had been obsessed with Adrian Payne, but it wasn't love; it was a sickness, a trauma bond I had mistaken for devotion.
Why did I do that? Why did I let him mold me into someone so submissive, so unlike myself? It felt like I was being controlled by some invisible force, a plot that wasn't my own.
The spell was broken. The obsession vanished. All that was left was a cold, empty feeling and a sudden, desperate longing for someone else: Kellen Campos, my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had left behind five years ago. I booked the first flight to New York. The Wife He Broke, The Heart He Gave
Horror My five-year-old son, Liam, suffered severe brain damage from an allergic reaction. A car accident left me with shattered ribs and a new heart beating in my chest. My husband, Mark, seemed broken by our tragedy.
Then, I overheard his phone call. "Olivia, it's done. Liam is no longer a problem. The accident went perfectly. They said her heart was a match for you. It was almost too easy."
I was paralyzed. He planned it all. He fed Liam peanuts, knowing his fatal allergy. He orchestrated my crash to get my heart for his mistress, Olivia. We were pawns, obstacles to be removed so his son, Ethan, could inherit everything.
Mark walked in, feigning concern. He even asked me to give blood for Olivia, whose body was rejecting my heart. He dragged me out of bed, ignoring my weakness and bleeding hand. He was draining my son too.
I fainted from blood loss. Mark then suggested we place Liam in a facility and "adopt" Ethan. But in his monstrous suggestion, I saw my escape. His phone was left behind.
His password was Ethan's birthday. I found a video: Olivia giving Ethan peanut crackers and pointing to Liam. It was deliberate. I forwarded the video, emailed my friend, a neurosurgeon in Switzerland, and deleted the history.
I bundled Liam and slipped out. I mailed divorce papers and the USB with the video to Mark's office.
"I'm leaving, Mark," I told him, then hung up.
Mark eventually found Liam's room empty. The nurse, witnessing Olivia's manipulative act, showed Mark security footage of Olivia pinching Ethan and falsely blaming me. Mark erupted. He threw Olivia out, showering them with cash, telling them he never wanted to see them again.
I landed in Zurich, found freedom with Liam. The news came: Mark suffered a severe spinal injury in an accident, paralyzed. He left everything to me for Liam. I founded a non-profit for children with brain injuries.
Liam thrived, discovering a gift for piano. Then, my transplanted heart began to fail. I was preparing for the end, writing birthday letters for Liam.
Ben burst in: "We found one! A perfect match. A directed donation from a patient in the States."
It was Mark. He had arranged it, his ultimate atonement. He had his life support removed. I watched his final message, then deleted the file.
A new heart. A new life. Our new life. The Loyal Dog Becomes A Lion
Romance "The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them." Olivia's voice was cold. After ten years as her "invisible husband," a signed contract, and a son I raised as my own, our arrangement was finally over.
But the finality hit differently when I saw the new portrait on the grand staircase: Olivia, radiant, linking arms with Daniel Clark, and beside them, my son Leo, beaming up at Daniel with an adoration he never showed me. Daniel was back, and I was erased.
They made it clear I was nothing more than a paid service. Mrs. Hayes, Olivia's mother, sneered, "Olivia, out of the kindness of her heart, has secured you a position at a mid-level tech firm. It's more than you deserve." A dismissal, a final pat for the loyal dog.
Then, at the mall, the ultimate betrayal. Leo recoiled from me, screaming, "He's not my dad! I want Daniel to be my dad!" Daniel, with a fake sympathetic smile, put his arm around Leo, while Olivia silently condoned it. It wasn't just my marriage ending; it was my fatherhood, too.
The words didn't cause sharp pain; it was a dull, heavy thud, as if something inside me finally died. Ten years of sacrifice, of unrequited love, meant nothing. Why had I poured every ounce of myself into a family that saw me only as a placeholder, a loyal dog? What even was I to them?
I signed the divorce papers, a final and clean break. That night, I collected the few remnants of my life-my coding projects, my mother's photo-and walked away, leaving behind the gilded cage, ready for a new beginning, a life where I wasn't just a service, but a man finally choosing to live for himself. Betrayed Heart, Billionaire's Embrace
Romance The antiseptic smell of the hospital room wasn't the only thing suffocating Olivia Reed. After a horrific car accident, she found herself trapped, not by her injuries, but by a chilling betrayal.
Her fiancé, Ethan Miller, the man she' d loved for years, was having a secret affair with Tiffany Sterling, Olivia' s adoptive sister from the family who had taken her in, only to treat her as an inconvenience.
The Sterlings, her birth family, who' d cast her out and now barely tolerated her, doted on Tiffany, their "real" daughter. As Olivia lay injured, Tiffany taunted her with messages and photos, culminating in the cruel reveal that Ethan and Tiffany were having a baby and getting married.
The "love" Ethan had shown felt like a well-rehearsed performance, his every word a lie. From a named star he' d promised Olivia, now designated for Tiffany, to the custom-designed wedding bands Olivia herself had created, now gracing Tiffany' s finger.
The crushing weight of betrayal, the realization that her entire life was built on a foundation of lies, was almost unbearable. Why had she been so blind? How could they all be so cruel?
But just as despair threatened to consume her, a lifeline appeared. Liam Hayes, a tech mogul, offered a marriage of convenience, an escape, a clean break. Olivia wiped away her tears, detached herself from the suffocating past, and rose. She was done being a victim. The Golden Canary Flies Away
Romance "Ava, it's a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do."
My team lead handed me a box of tissues as I was summarily dismissed, the official reason being a fabricated error. Everyone knew the real reason: my boyfriend, Nathan Hayes, was making room for Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart and the company' s co-founder, back from abroad.
Just then, Nathan' s black Maybach pulled up, and Chloe emerged, linking her arm through his. He walked past me as if I didn' t exist, guiding Chloe into the building. My heart tightened. I went to our penthouse, cooked his favorite ribs, and sent him a picture: "Coming home for dinner? Made your favorite honey-glazed ribs." The message was read, but no reply came. Of course not. He was with Chloe.
Days later, Nathan finally came home. He saw my pharmacy bag: "You went to the hospital?" I lied, saying it was just a cold. He pulled me into an embrace: "You're not mad I fired you, are you?" I said no. I couldn't be. Three years ago, he saved me from my mother' s gambling debts, and I became his. His kept woman.
Then, Chloe's friend, Brenda Smith, found me. She showed me texts of my messages to Nathan, saying he and Chloe laughed about how pathetic I was. She slapped me, slammed my head against the table. I woke up in the hospital, Nathan by my side. He didn' t care about my pain; only about Chloe' s reputation.
A part of me had died that day. Nathan wanted his "white knight" and his obedient canary in a cage. But he didn't know his "golden canary" had started digging her own way out. His Mother's Shadow: My Stolen Life
Romance He was my guardian, my "Uncle Ethan," the man who promised to always be there after the fire took Mom and Dad.
On my eighteenth birthday, I believed his devoted attention, his constant presence, meant we were meant to be more than family.
But when I whispered, "I love you, not like an uncle," his eyes turned to ice. "These feelings are inappropriate," he flatly stated, his voice chillingly foreign.
Humiliation burned. He called me 'delusional,' cut off my funds, and dated a woman who openly mocked me. Then came the 'accident' – a knife wound, a trap set by his new girlfriend, with him blaming me and contacting Juilliard to destroy my dreams.
He changed the locks, leaving me to bleed alone.
Why would the man who once shielded me now actively ruin my life? Was his cruelty a twisted lesson, or something far darker? The answer arrived with Olivia' s text: a faded photo of my mother and a chilling caption: "Did you know he was obsessed with your mother? You were always just her shadow."
His 'care' was a grotesque projection of a sick, unrequited love for my dead mother.
I was a surrogate.
But no more. A sudden lifeline from my parents' past offered the means to cut the ties, expose his manipulations, and carve out a real future where I was seen for myself. The Divorce He Didn't See
Romance My husband, Mark, GreenScape' s CEO, always prioritized his ambition, and I quietly supported him, sacrificing my own dreams.
I meticulously managed our flagship Willow Creek project, pouring months of my life into it.
Mark claimed to be in Boulder for a crucial zoning appeal.
But then, an Instagram post shattered that illusion: Mark, playing 'eco-warrior' in Denver with Ashley, our new coordinator, her hand on his arm, a gushing caption highlighting her initiative.
I "liked" the post. Immediately, Mark called, furious, accusing me of mocking Ashley and ordering me to retract it.
Later, Ashley posted a victim statement on our company portal, subtly implicating me.
Mark demanded a public apology, threatening to pull me from Willow Creek. My colleagues turned away.
Mocking her?
I, who truly understood hard work, was being gaslit by a man who dismissed my severe allergies as "drama."
The blatant threats, years of neglect, and casual disregard for our marriage solidified into one cold, unyielding truth.
This wasn't about an Instagram post; it was about him.
They expected an apology, me to grovel.
I closed the portal, a quiet, chilling resolve settling in. Little did Mark or Ashley know, my escape plan was already set.
Our divorce papers were signed months ago-by him-back when he was too consumed by Ashley' s manufactured crises to even notice.
My real project was complete. It was time for his world to unravel. Too Late for Apologies: The Architect's Revenge
Modern My life was supposed to be a success story, a talented architect married to a rising firm owner, living comfortably in Chicago.
But at the annual holiday gala, my husband, Mark, publicly humiliated me by gifting my deceased mother's irreplaceable locket to his conniving intern, Tiffany, who then carelessly shattered it.
What followed was a cruel spiral of blatant infidelity, his dismissal of my grief, gaslighting about his constant neglect, and their calculated plot to destroy my career; he even staged a fake suicide attempt for Tiffany, forcing me to donate my rare blood type on the day of my most critical professional presentation, then watched as they celebrated with my stolen project and commissioned my anniversary gown for his mistress.
Lying in that sterile hospital room, sedated and weak, I understood the full extent of their calculated cruelty; every betrayal was a deliberate, agonizing twist of the knife, leaving me stripped of everything and simmering with a cold, unwavering fury.
As Mark brazenly handed over my stolen designs to Tiffany, dismissing my accusations of plagiarism, I finally made the call I vowed I never would: to my reclusive, powerful father in New York, demanding he pull every string and dismantle Mark' s entire empire, piece by piece. You might like
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. 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.
His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* 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?
Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Fonz Nadherny I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." You Can't Buy My Heart, Mr. Vitiello
JENNIFER JARVIS My father sold me to the Vitiello Crime Family to settle a three-million-dollar gambling debt.
For three years, I was Dante Vitiello’s property. I warmed his bed, tended his wounds, and let him own every part of me.
I thought I was earning my freedom. I thought I mattered.
Then his "true queen," the Mafia Princess Sofia, returned to the city.
Dante pushed me off his lap the moment she walked into the room. He ordered me to leave because, in the presence of his equal, I was nothing more than "the help."
The humiliation didn't stop there.
He evicted me from the penthouse to renovate it for her.
At a gala, he outbid me for my grandmother’s heirloom bracelet—my family's last scrap of dignity—just to gift it to Sofia in front of the entire city.
But the final blow came when he came to my bed drunk one last time.
He kissed me with a desperate hunger, whispering that he was only "practicing" his technique on me so he would be perfect for her.
I realized then that I wasn't a person to him. I was a training dummy. A debt with a pulse.
He told me to wait for him while he took her to Paris. He thought I would stay in the kennel like a good pet.
He was wrong.
While he was gone, I accepted a surgical fellowship in Switzerland.
I snapped my SIM card in half, left his millions on the floor, and boarded a one-way flight.
By the time the Wolf comes home to find his cage empty, I will be gone. 
/1/107565/coverorgin.jpg?v=f58c6b99058f39968794f83eb1f86d31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105745/coverorgin.jpg?v=96bac50dd650f5e14109fda891c5a1c1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101165/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f704e42afd39641d0aea981b9af0497&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/91404/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f27a8ea715f4cb92deb81a300567681&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/90119/coverorgin.jpg?v=bbaf3b4b53db817f30ca7de77d64a18b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86922/coverorgin.jpg?v=12f9ea83d92a77077e1d47087aaac44f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86895/coverorgin.jpg?v=3cfe7c4000e9dd499d779321fadee7f5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86829/coverorgin.jpg?v=bec23f4bdb3c8b47525fce8a409a4c3a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86486/coverorgin.jpg?v=97c07eee5ec425abf5c4aa3d4537b7ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83249/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202357&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82872/coverorgin.jpg?v=2bdc2506b04d0813f088cc77d341d751&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82673/coverorgin.jpg?v=633977f19e6eeb85d7684b3ec9db242c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18680/coverorgin.jpg?v=4aad5d730cae0a5eb9506ffb49cc35ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106734/coverorgin.jpg?v=c7ef0ae7a01b8941d249a96e5d9ca057&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1dec4753a5c9ea677f050c0b517bc01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=420dcfaf22c3673aea66ed4b5433131f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104843/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c60e31b25c3507535767491f6bf894e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85173/coverorgin.jpg?v=a10502c379551739b42acb52fe8f2cd6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100385/coverorgin.jpg?v=d2377f2e89744f564e672d62cce9c375&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104523/coverorgin.jpg?v=7719b1d28102636322258cb433c8fe50&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104694/coverorgin.jpg?v=fba18a636a565aead7b3c1a8f143979b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104479/coverorgin.jpg?v=96b08700bb860257b3b14ca84fd299f4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104709/coverorgin.jpg?v=849fa9387e4a16e117340e118ff38a4b&imageMogr2/format/webp)