He Killed Love, She Killed His Empire
I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs.
Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention.
I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear.
But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir.
I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness.
I was wrong.
When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed.
In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down.
I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor.
As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows.
He had killed our unborn son.
So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate.
I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion.
Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost.
I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece.
And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't come back for his money.
I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered.
"Hello, Dante."
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Chapter 5
Seraphina POV
The drive to the Lake Estate was suffocating. Above us, the sky was a bruised gray, hanging low and leaden over the highway.
Dante navigated the Maserati with a terrifying ease, one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other hovering over the gear shift. He exuded a calm, detached power, looking utterly untouched by the wreckage of our marriage.
"You're quiet," he noted, his voice slicing through an hour of heavy silence.
"I have a headache," I lied, keeping my gaze fixed on the blurring trees.
He reached into the glove compartment without looking away from the road and tossed a plastic bottle into my lap.
"Take two," he commanded. "You need to be sharp. The Russos are meeting us there for dinner."
I gripped the bottle of aspirin until my knuckles turned white. To him, my pain was nothing more than a logistical error to be corrected.
When we finally arrived, the house loomed over the water like a fortress of glass and steel. It was cold, uninviting, and absolute. Below, the lake was black, its surface smooth as oil.
I went upstairs to unpack, needing to put distance between us. The master bedroom overlooked the water, and I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the wind whip my hair across my face.
That was when I saw it.
A car pulled up down the long, winding driveway. It wasn't the Russos.
It was a black sedan with tinted windows. A man stepped out. I didn't recognize his face, but I recognized the type instantly. He moved with the fluid, lethal grace of a predator. He wore a long coat, and in his hand, he carried a duffel bag that dragged slightly with weight.
This wasn't a dinner party.
Heart hammering against my ribs, I went downstairs.
Dante was in the kitchen, pouring a drink with his back to me.
"Who is that?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
Dante didn't turn around.
"Security," he said smoothly. "With the tension in the city, I wanted extra eyes on the perimeter."
He was lying. I could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders.
I walked closer, forcing myself to step into his space.
"Dante, look at me."
He turned slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "What is it, Sera?"
"I know you're lying," I whispered. "I know about Valeria. I know you don't respect me. But tell me the truth now. Why are we really here?"
Dante set the glass down on the marble counter with a sharp clink. He walked over to me, his frame towering over mine, casting a long shadow.
He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but his eyes were terrifyingly empty.
"We are here to fix things, Seraphina," he said softly. "We are here to make sure the Family has a future. Sometimes, to build something new, you have to clear away the old debris."
A chill, colder than the lake wind, ran down my spine. I understood.
I was the debris.
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. It felt like a benediction. Or last rites.
"Go change for dinner," he murmured against my skin. "Wear the white dress. I like you in white."
I turned and walked up the stairs, forcing one foot in front of the other even though my legs felt like lead.
Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door. My hands shook as I turned on the shower, letting the water roar to mask any sound.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the burner phone I had hidden days ago.
I dialed the number I had memorized from my father's old journals-a fail-safe from a life I thought I had left behind. A number for a man who didn't exist. A cleaner. A ghost.
"I need a hit," I whispered the moment the line connected.
"Who is the target?" a distorted, mechanical voice asked.
"Me," I said, staring at my reflection. "Make it look like an accident. Make it look like a rival family did it. But I need to disappear. Tonight."
There was a long pause on the other end.
"The price is high."
"I can pay," I said instantly.
"Done. Be ready at midnight."
I hung up and flushed the SIM card down the toilet.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was pale. I was shaking. But my eyes were dry.
I put on the white dress. The silk draped over me like a shroud. I looked like a ghost already.
Tonight, Seraphina Vitiello would die. And from her ashes, something else would rise. Something that would make Dante Moretti wish he had never learned the true meaning of the word Vendetta.
I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and walked out to meet my executioner.
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7.7
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
8.6
It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered.
9.4
Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle.
She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running.
Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic.
But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died.
For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive.
But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night.
He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined.
Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired.
"If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets."
Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline.
Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son.
The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay.
But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket.
Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke.
She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes.
"Keep your dirty money."
She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.
7.1
For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask.
To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal.
I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use.
Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage.
"The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."
8.7
Introduction
Emily is the adopted daughter of a billionaire family. They adopted her after the loss of their own daughter in a bid to comfort themselves.
However, when she was twenty one, the original daughter of her adopted parents came back and after the DNA tests proved that she was their child, their joy knew no bounds as they began to celebrate her.
Emily's fiance, Louis acted as a source of comfort to her around this time because her parents neglected her, providing their attention to their daughter instead.
They were set to get married in two months but that was until she saw a post on a blog, stating that her sister and her fiance Louis, were getting married.
She had an accident and nearly died but none of her family members showed up, leading her to believe that indeed they had lost all touch of love for her.
She gets home to find a piece of condom in the trashcan, suggesting that her fiance has been busy while she was in the hospital. She confronted him, telling him if what she saw on the blogs were true and he finally admitted to it, saying he loved her sister more than her and he would be getting married to her.
7.8
Clara Bennett built her life around two promises-protect her twins and never depend on anyone.
For five years, she has raised Liam and Isla alone, keeping the truth about their father buried in the past... a past that began with a single night she barely remembers.
But everything changes when billionaire CEO Ethan Caldwell suddenly walks back into her life.
Cold, powerful, and dangerously perceptive, Ethan offers Clara an arrangement she cannot refuse-one that forces them to live under the same roof.
What Ethan doesn't know is that the twins who instantly capture his attention might be more connected to him than he realizes.
As sparks ignite and tensions rise, secrets begin to surface. A ruthless corporate enemy is watching. And the truth about that forgotten night is closer to being exposed.
When the truth finally comes out, Ethan will have to face the one thing he never expected...
The family he never knew he had.
And Clara must decide whether she can trust the man who once walked out of her life without even remembering.