Fall From Grace, Rise To Reign
For six years, Lainey devoted herself to Jeremy, earning only ridicule from their social circle.
Everything changed when she overheard him tell his lover, "She's nothing but a lapdog."
Heartbroken, Lainey found solace with a supposed escort.
People thought it was a ploy to win Jeremy back, but Lainey only scoffed. "He's just a housekeeper's son faking his status. Without me, he's nothing."
Then everyone realized she was the real powerhouse, owning both elite society and the underworld.
Jeremy begged in vain; Lainey never looked back.
Her new man, supposedly a gigolo but secretly high society's elite, kissed her before Jeremy. "Your ex is pathetic."
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Chapter 8
"I see, so you quarreled with Jeremy," Laurie said lightly, folding her arms. "My son prefers women who are gentle and sensible. You should stop acting like a spoiled princess whenever you're unhappy."
Hearing that, Lainey curved her lips in a cold smile.
"And who gave you the right to lecture me?" she asked calmly, eyes sharp. "I let many things slide before, but from now on, you will answer for every mistake. You still owe me five million, so you can repay it by working here without pay."
After speaking, she turned toward Bruno. "Bruno, starting today, do not give her a single cent until that five million is settled."
Relief washed over Bruno, surprise bright in his eyes. At last, Lainey was no longer blinded by love.
"Understood, Miss White," he replied at once.
Laurie stood frozen, staring at Lainey in disbelief.
What had happened to Lainey today?
Before, Lainey had always humbled herself for Jeremy, yet now she kept her distance and even forced Laurie to work for nothing to clear a debt.
Laurie swore to herself that once Jeremy came back, she would make him put Lainey in her place.
......
The next morning at the White Group.
In the open-plan office of the fashion design department, Lainey paused mid-sketch as her phone vibrated beside the drawing board.
"Luna, I heard you're back," the caller said eagerly. "Someone from the Roberts family just offered twenty million to secure your return piece."
"Not for sale," Lainey said flatly, eyes never leaving the sketch.
"But it's the Roberts family, and that twenty million is only the down payment," the voice pleaded, strained.
"Say one more word," she replied coolly, tapping her pencil. "And you won't see a single line from me."
"Come on, I'm your agent," the caller coaxed softly.
Lainey ended the call without mercy.
Who would have guessed she was once the world renowned chief designer, Luna.
Two clean drafts already lay finished beside her when Jeremy and Erin arrived late, their presence stirring quiet whispers across the floor.
Everyone knew how, for six years, the junior assistant Lainey had chased the director with quiet devotion, until Erin arrived as deputy and announced her relationship with Jeremy soon after.
Noticing the empty desk, Jeremy frowned, irritation tightening his brow.
What was wrong with Lainey today? Why hadn't she brought the breakfast over?
The office exchanged puzzled glances.
Jeremy walked to Lainey's desk and rapped his knuckles against the wood.
"Lainey, where's the breakfast?" he asked curtly.
Lainey stopped her pencil and lifted her eyes. "What are you talking about," she said calmly.
Impatience flickered across Jeremy's face.
"For Erin, of course," he said sharply. "Since you forgot, go buy it now. She wants the special set from Ocean's Repast. Hurry."
Erin tugged lightly at his sleeve, voice gentle.
"Jeremy, it isn't right to make her do that every day," she said softly. "I heard the line takes two hours at least. Maybe I should go myself."
Erin had barely taken a few steps when Jeremy reached out and stopped her.
"It's fine," he said lightly, drawing her back. "You're the deputy director, and every sketch you touch is worth millions, while she's only an assistant, so it's natural she runs errands for you. She likes doing this anyway, and if you stop her, she'll only sulk."
After that, he turned toward Lainey and said, "Isn't that right, Lainey?"
Lainey curved her lips into a faint smile. "Thanks for reminding me—I nearly forgot."
She lifted her phone and dialed a number.
"How much longer before you get here?" she asked quietly.
Before the line could go silent, a voice answered from the doorway, "I'm already here."
Every head turned at once.
Dylan stood there, calm and distant, sharp features carved by the light.
A plain white shirt clung to him, two buttons undone at the collar, tan skin and strong lines half revealed.
Without moving, he filled the room with quiet pressure.
His eyes found Lainey at once in her blue dress.
Under countless stunned gazes, he crossed the room and set the breakfast gently on her desk.
Jeremy glanced at him and reached for the bag.
"Lainey, don't think this little trick will make me forgive what you did last night," he said coldly.
A shadow crossed Dylan's face.
So Lainey had summoned him at dawn only to flatter that man.
The moment Jeremy touched the takeout bag, Lainey caught it and pulled back.
"Let me be clear," she said calmly. "This is the breakfast my boyfriend brought for me."
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8.0
My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne.
I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard.
But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power.
I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home?
"Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me.
I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk.
"I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."
9.2
In LA's Business world, Zane Calloway, thirty, turns cartel king after his father's gruesome murder, ruling The Atlas Group with a bloody fist. He learned how betrayal could ruin even the biggest empire and was hell bent on keeping Atlas Group. However when Sienna Carter, his new assistant got in the picture, he threw caution to the wind. To become the only one controlling the cartel, he would use Sienna who was a supposedly ghost from a dead cartel as bait for his enemies. Sienna Carter made his mission become even more complicated as she ignites a dangerous sparks in him. Twenty-five year old Sienna Carter just wanted to stay alive, running away from danger had been the only thing she was capable of since her family were murdered. All she had as a semblance of her old life was the locket her dying father had given her and when a new job pops up in Los Angeles, she gambled for it, hoping for her sake that it wouldn't lead her straight to the same hell she was running from.
However, she would soon realize that the Atlas Groups was going to be more than just a survival decision but the key to everything.
9.0
I shattered my knee jumping in front of a silver bullet meant for him.
The poison seeped into my marrow, putting my wolf into a coma and leaving me crippled.
I thought my sacrifice would secure his love forever.
Instead, five years later, Brennan stood in a warehouse while a Rogue held a silver-laced dagger to my throat.
Beside me sat Debbi, his mistress—a spy who had staged the whole kidnapping.
"You can only save one," the kidnapper sneered.
Brennan didn't even hesitate.
He looked me in the eye, his gaze cold and devoid of the bond we once shared.
"I choose Debbi," he said.
He walked out with her in his arms, leaving his Fated Mate to bleed out on the concrete floor.
As the blade dug into my skin, I felt the mate bond snap.
He thought I died in the explosion that followed.
He spent weeks howling in grief when he finally realized Debbi was a traitor and he had killed the only woman who truly loved him.
But he was wrong.
I didn't die.
A federal agent pulled me from the fire, and the trauma didn't kill my wolf—it woke her up.
A year later, Brennan walked into a small bistro in Italy, looking for redemption.
He fell to his knees when he saw me standing there, healed and glowing with the aura of a White Wolf.
"Alyssa," he wept, reaching for me. "I'm so sorry. I'll do anything."
I looked him dead in the eye, my gaze icy blue.
"Get out," I said. "We don't serve traitors here."
7.6
I am the wife of Julian Falcone, a powerful mafia boss, but my title in this house is nothing but a joke.
When our car broke down in a deadly blizzard, Julian rushed to the scene, only to bypass me entirely.
He wrapped his heavy coat around his fragile cousin, Livia, and put her in his only available passenger seat.
"Livia's constitution is too weak to survive this cold. I have to take her back first."
He left me to freeze in the pitch-black car for the entire night.
When his men finally dragged my half-dead body out the next morning, they openly mocked me, calling me a piece of "collateral" that the boss wouldn't care about as long as I was breathing.
Back at the estate, Julian didn't even ask if I had survived the frostbite. Instead, he stormed into my sickroom, demanding I treat his mistress with respect just because my absolute silence had hurt her feelings.
His grandmother then publicly humiliated me for failing to provide an heir, while Livia flaunted the custom diamond bracelet Julian bought to soothe her "fright" from the storm.
I finally understood. He didn't marry me out of honor to save my fallen family. He just needed my aristocratic Rossi blood to legitimize his new-money mafia empire.
I was never a wife. I was a transaction he was willing to let freeze to death.
When his men delivered a heavy diamond necklace to buy my submission, I didn't cry or beg.
I dropped the blood diamond into the deepest drawer, and began to plan my escape.
8.0
For ten years, I played the safe, "wolfless" emotional support animal for my werewolf best friend, Finn, secretly loving him while he chased his toxic ex.
When she got engaged to a rival Alpha, he dragged me across the country to crash the mating ceremony, only to abandon me at the airport.
His terrifying older brother, Alpha Knox, picked me up instead and shattered my world with one sentence: Finn had always known how I felt, and he intentionally weaponized my devotion.
To prove how little I meant to him, Knox orchestrated a cruel test at a seedy Rogue club.
While I sat right next to Finn in a sticky booth, Knox sent over a stripper.
"You don't mind, right, Sloane? It's just a gift," Finn slurred.
Without hesitating, he let the stripper straddle him right in front of me, burying his face in her neck to chase away the pain of his ex.
A decade of my blind loyalty turned to ash in that smoke-filled room.
I hated my defective, wolfless biology, but I hated him more for treating me like a stray dog begging for scraps.
Why did I waste my entire youth protecting a male who didn't even see me as a woman?
Suffocating on shame and fury, I fled to the cramped club bathroom to hide.
*Click.*
The deadbolt slid into place, and the intoxicating scent of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder swallowed me whole.
Alpha Knox Crawford stood against the locked door, his merciless eyes pinning me to the sink.
9.7
I tried to quit.
My boss said no.
When you work for billionaire restaurateur Bastian Hale, every day is an exercise in endurance.
He screams at you in front of half the staff? Endure.
He tears your work to bits and tells you to start again? Endure.
He surprises you shirtless in the office late one night? Endure... then go home and die of embarrassment.
I've endured six years of Bastian Hale.
I can endure anything.
... Until my doctor tells me I'm going blind in ninety days.
Suddenly, enduring isn't the goal anymore.
Living is.
Seeing everything I can before the lights go out forever.
And that means one thing: quitting the job that's consumed my entire adult life.
There's just one problem:
Bastian doesn't accept my resignation.
Instead, he shreds my letter to pieces...
Offers me a million dollars to stay...
And vows to make my last ninety days of sight worth remembering.
The man is arrogant. Brutal. Cold as the walk-in freezer.
But his hands are warm.
And in the dark, he teaches me things my eyes never could.
I wanted one last look at the light.
I got a taste of the dark instead.