Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance.
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Chapter 4
The preparation I spoke of to Clara was tested the very next morning.
A Herrera Family Soldier stood in the foyer of the Herrera estate. He was a mountain of a man in an impeccable black suit, his eyes devoid of anything resembling warmth. He didn't bring a polite request; he brought a summons from Elder Maria Herrera.
Elena Herrera, my step mother, masked her displeasure behind a tight, Botox-stiffened smile. But the moment we were sealed inside the back of her chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce, her true colors bled through the suffocating cloud of her French perfume.
"Listen to me, you ungrateful little bitch," Elena hissed, her manicured fingers digging into my forearm. "Sophia's wedding to Leo is the priority. It secures our alliance with the Contreras family. You will keep your mouth shut today and let me handle the dowry negotiations. Our family's interests come first. Understand?"
"Perfectly," I replied, my voice flat, gently but firmly pulling my arm from her grip.
The Herrera Ancestral Wing was a fortress of old-world power, entirely devoid of the flashy, gilded desperation of the main house. We were escorted deep into the heart of the manor, into Maria Herrera's private study. The room was a cavern of dark mahogany, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. The air was thick with the scent of aged brandy, Cuban cigars, and lemon polish—the unmistakable perfume of ruthless authority.
Behind a massive carved desk sat Maria Herrera. As the Family Elder, she wielded a terrifying amount of influence. She was a woman who had survived decades of mafia blood feuds, burying a Don husband, only to fiercely guard the throne for her son, Giovanni. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe knot, and her obsidian eyes missed nothing.
"Sit," Maria commanded. It wasn't an invitation.
We sat. Maria didn't waste time with pleasantries. "The wedding is to happen swiftly. We must finalize Isabella's dowry and the transfer of her mother's trust fund."
Elena immediately adopted a look of weary martyrdom. She sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Signora Maria, you must understand the immense pressure the Herrera family is under. Preparing for Sophia's grand union with Leo Contreras has been our focus. To suddenly prepare a second bride, especially on such short notice... it is a severe strain on our finances."
I kept my face perfectly blank, though my pulse quickened. Elena was playing a dangerous game, attempting to frame my marriage to a Don as an inconvenient burden.
Maria's expression didn't shift. She merely nodded slowly, a predator watching its prey wander into the open. "I see. And how do you propose we resolve this... strain?"
Emboldened by the Elder's calm tone, Elena leaned forward, her greed completely overriding her survival instincts. "The Russo family has offered a very generous bridal settlement. I believe the most elegant solution is to use that settlement to form the bulk of Isabella's dowry, supplemented by two of our vineyards in the valley. It is the most respectable arrangement under the circumstances."
Silence fell over the study. It was a heavy, suffocating quiet that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Elena had just suggested that the Russo family pay for their own bride, effectively allowing the Herreras to pocket my mother's trust fund. In our world, it was an insult of catastrophic proportions.
When Maria Herrera finally spoke, her voice was a razor blade wrapped in silk. "Let me be absolutely clear, Elena. You are suggesting that Don Damien Russo buys his own wife with our money?"
Elena's smugness vanished instantly. The blood drained from her face. "No, Signora, I merely meant—"
"You meant to insult our allies," Maria interrupted, leaning forward, the aura of a predator fully unleashed. "You meant to imply that we should finance your biological daughter's wedding to an Underboss, while sending a beggar to a Don. The Herrera honor is written in respect. Any slight against the Russos is answered with a thorough Vendetta. Do you want to bring a war to my doorstep?"
Elena trembled, her mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. "Please, I meant no disrespect. I was only thinking of the families—"
"Save your breath," Maria snapped, her eyes cutting toward the heavy mahogany doors. "I will not discuss this further with a greedy fool. Send for your husband. We will see if Giovanni Herrera shares his wife's suicidal audacity."
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7.2
Clifton, the god of esports, was secretly battling a career-ending wrist injury to protect his team.
A year ago, he kissed his duo partner, Justice, only to be met with violent disgust. Justice shoved him away and dry-heaved in the rain, looking at him like a monster.
Humiliated by the straight man's raw revulsion, Clifton cut him out of his life.
But now, Justice suddenly appeared at Clifton's club as a rookie tryout.
Instead of an ambitious climber, Justice played the perfect, pathetic victim. He cowered, trembled, and acted terrified whenever Clifton was near.
He even signed a bloodsucking contract with a toxic teammate, sparking rumors he was brought in to replace Clifton as captain.
During a scrimmage, Clifton hesitated to shoot because he remembered Justice had just severely burned his hand.
Justice showed no mercy. He ruthlessly gunned Clifton down, humiliating the captain in front of the entire coaching staff.
Clifton was consumed by blinding rage and betrayal.
If Justice was so disgusted by him, why did he fake his devotion for six months just to use him?
Why was he acting like helpless prey now, after trampling all over Clifton's pride?
Determined to rip off the liar's disguise, Clifton dragged Justice into a live stream in front of sixty thousand viewers.
"He's asking if you are in love with me."
Clifton smiled cruelly, waiting for the public execution. But just as the trap snapped shut, a choked, terrified gasp came through the headset.
8.0
"IS IT TRUE?" Grayson's voice thundered through the room.
"Yes!" Tessa said softly. "Yes it is!"
"So you've been cheating on me, haven't you?" He spat.
Her hands trembled. "No, I swear, it's not like that."
He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising her wrist as she squealed in pain.
"Then whose baby are you carrying, huh?" His voice was ice cold.
Tessa shivered, tears blurring her vision.
"I don't know."
**********
Pregnant with the powerful Roman Blackwood's child, while engaged to his unstable stepbrother - Tessa Quinn becomes the key to a ruthless inheritance war where love has no place.
As secrets unravel and danger closes in, Tessa must protect her unborn child while trapped between love, vengeance, and men who want to own her fate.
9.6
I spent our third anniversary alone in our penthouse, adjusting a white rose and waiting for a man who didn't want to come home. When my fiancé, Chris Osborne, finally arrived, he didn't notice the 1982 Lafite or the dinner I’d prepared. He looked at me with disgust, calling my desire for a wedding date "pressure" before storming out to a private club.
I followed him, hiding behind a marble pillar at The Vault as I recorded his voice on my phone. He was laughing with his friends about a $20 million bet. He called me a "boring ice queen" and a "marble statue," explaining that he only needed to keep me around until the merger closed so he could steal my shares and "cut me loose." To make it worse, my own father was in on it, prioritizing his stock price over his daughter's life.
Broken and barefoot in a torrential Manhattan downpour, I sought refuge at the Four Seasons. I collapsed into the arms of a tall, dangerous-looking stranger and begged him to take me upstairs. I wanted to be erased, to forget the transaction my life had become. After a night of salt and desperation, I left my engagement ring on his nightstand as payment for services rendered and fled.
The next morning, I realized I had jumped from the frying pan into the furnace. My "stranger" wasn't a nobody. He was Gallagher Osborne—the ruthless patriarch of the family and my fiancé’s uncle. He tracked me to a private clinic, trapping me in a room while holding my medical file and the ring I’d discarded. He told me I was his now, and that he’d dismantle Chris piece by piece if I didn't comply.
I was a piece of currency to my father, a bet to my fiancé, and a prize to his uncle. I had no allies, no escape, and no mercy left. I realized that being the "perfect daughter" had only made me a target. If they wanted to play games with the "Ice Queen," I decided to give them a frostbite they would never forget.
I trashed my art gallery, backdated a diagnosis for a psychotic break, and sent a cryptic suicide note to Chris. As Gallagher watched from the shadows and Chris panicked over his investment, I began the process of scorching the earth. The merger was still happening, but I wasn't the bride anymore—I was the wrecking ball.
7.1
He doesn't believe in love.
He believes in ownership.
Lucien Vale built his empire the same way he destroys his enemies-quietly, strategically, without mercy. To the world, he's the youngest billionaire in Europe. To those who cross him, he's something far darker.
They call him The Devil in a Suit.
When struggling art conservator Amara Rossi unknowingly restores a painting tied to one of Lucien's most dangerous secrets, she becomes collateral in a war she never saw coming. To protect her-and control the damage-Lucien does what he does best.
He claims her.
What begins as a contract meant to silence her turns into an obsession neither of them expected. Amara refuses to be owned. Lucien has never been denied.
But behind Lucien's cold precision is a man forged by betrayal, raised in violence, and taught that love is a weakness exploited by enemies. And behind Amara's defiance is a woman who has spent her life surviving powerful men.
Their chemistry is volatile. Their power dynamic intoxicating.
Their connection? Terrifyingly real.
Because the devil doesn't fall in love.
He possesses.
And when Lucien realizes he would burn empires for her, the question isn't whether he can keep Amara-
It's whether she can survive being claimed by him.
7.2
SYNOPSIS:
"I spent ten years scrubbing your floors, Greene. Tonight, you'll scrub mine."
Elara Vance has always been the pride the Republic until she ran away from home, fell in love with Greene Jones, a man who treated her like dirt and discarded her like she was never the girl the entire Republic feared because of her strong dominating pheromones.
Now she's back after twelve years to serve revenge to Greene Jones like a hot dish in a way that he will pay for every act meted out on her for twelve years. But things wasn't going to go as planned as she meets Silas, the handsome bulky head of her father's security but a recessive omega of her past that she has totally forgotten but now wears a new stance as her bodyguard, recognized by the entire republic as an Alpha, and her perfect chosen mate, Calvin; ruining the comeback and revenge she planned out for herself and now she has to think about saving and claiming her mate, Silas while navigating and protecting the seat meant for her.
The real question becomes; will Calvin ever allow her take all it took him twelve years to build?
THEME: The true definition of power. Is it found in the biological dominance of an Alpha, or in the resilience of an Omega who survived in the lion's den?
8.7
I was dying in a cold hospital bed, listening to the monitor count down my final seconds.
As a ghost, I watched my own funeral. My popular friends and wealthy family soon moved on, but one person stayed.
Cas Riley. The invisible outcast from the back of my history class.
He brought a white rose to my grave every single day, withering away until he collapsed on the frozen ground, dying of a broken heart for a girl who barely knew his name.
Opening my eyes again, the hospital smell was gone. I was reborn back in my high school classroom.
I immediately tracked him down, only to witness the brutal hell he was trapped in.
He was humiliated by a cruel foreman for pennies, violently slapped by his uncle over his sick mother's medical money, and forced into bloody street fights.
He was starving, covered in bruises, and completely alone.
When I tried to buy him medicine and step into his life to protect him, he violently pushed me away in the pouring rain.
"Stay out of my life! To protect you, I have to fight, and when I fight, I lose everything!"
He wasn't rejecting me out of hate. He was terrified that his dark, violent reality would drag me down with him.
Standing soaked in the rain, my resolve hardened like steel.
Gentle kindness wasn't going to save him from this hell.
To protect the boy who died for me, I had to become ruthless enough to tear down his entire rotten world and build him a new one.