Hiding His Twins From The Underboss
I saved a man bleeding out in the snow. He had no memory, so I called him Ben.
We lived in a cabin, fell in love, and married by firelight with no witnesses but the ghosts of my parents.
Then one day, he disappeared.
Two years later, he returned. Not as my husband, but as Bernard Logan, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family.
And he didn't remember me.
He brought his cruel new fiancée to my clinic and treated me like a stranger.
When she threw my father’s antique music box into a cactus display, he watched as I tore my hands apart trying to save it.
He called our past a "drug-induced hallucination" and threatened to destroy me if I spoke up.
Worst of all, I found out I was pregnant.
He cornered me in the hospital room, his eyes cold and devoid of the warmth I used to know.
"Is it mine?"
I knew if I said yes, he would turn my child into a killer like him. Or his fiancée would ensure we never survived.
So I looked the love of my life in the eye and lied.
"No," I said. "It's not yours."
I signed his NDA, took his hush money, and vanished to Europe to raise my twins alone.
I thought I was free. I found a good man who actually loved me.
But three years later, at an art gallery in Zurich, the crowd parted.
Bernard was standing there, staring at me with a terrifying hunger.
He had found out the truth.
And he was ready to burn the world down to get us back.
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Chapter 3
Addison POV
The Logan Estate was less a home and more a fortress of stone and glass, perched precariously on the edge of a cliff.
It was cold.
Imposing.
Just like the man who owned it.
I was sequestered in the guest quarters, trying to make sense of the medical files Bernard had forced upon me.
Suddenly, the door flew open with a violence that made me jump.
Evelin stood there, framed by the doorway.
She looked deranged, her chest heaving.
"What is she doing here?" she shrieked, her voice cracking.
She spun around to face Bernard, who was lingering in the hallway like a dark shadow.
"You brought the help into our home?" she screamed.
"She is on call," Bernard said, his voice maddeningly calm. "You said you had anxiety. You needed monitoring."
"I don't want her here!" Evelin yelled, pointing a trembling finger at me. "She smells like poverty."
Bernard looked at me.
His face was an impenetrable mask.
"Get out," he said.
Just like that.
"It is freezing outside," I argued, my voice shaking. "It is a five-mile walk to the main road."
"I don't care," Evelin spat.
Bernard didn't even blink. He signaled to two of his guards.
"Escort her off the property," he commanded.
The guards seized my arms.
They weren't gentle.
They dragged me down the polished marble hallway, my heels skidding uselessly against the floor.
I looked back at Bernard one last time.
He was lighting a cigarette, the flame illuminating the sharp angles of his face.
He didn't watch me leave.
They threw me out the front gate like a bag of refuse.
I landed hard on the asphalt.
My knees scraped against the grit, tearing skin.
The cold air bit into my flesh like a thousand needles.
I pushed myself up and started walking.
Every step was a painful reminder.
Ben—the man I thought I knew—would have carried me through the snow.
Bernard threw me into it.
I walked for what felt like an eternity, losing sensation in my toes, before a black SUV pulled up slowly beside me.
The window rolled down with a soft hum.
"Get in," Bernard said.
I kept walking, staring straight ahead.
"Get in, Addison, or I drag you in."
I stopped.
I got in.
I had no fight left in me.
"We are going to the St. Regis," he announced, staring at the road. "Evelin has a gala tonight. She needs you to calm her nerves."
"I am not her servant," I whispered.
"You are whatever I say you are," he replied coldly.
At the hotel, he left me in the hallway outside the master suite.
The heavy door hadn't latched completely; it stood slightly ajar.
I heard voices drifting out.
"Bernard," Evelin said. Her voice was low, laced with suspicion. "Why is she really here? Did you sleep with her?"
I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Bernard laughed.
It was a cruel, hollow sound.
"She was a nurse, Evelin," he said dismissively. "I was high on painkillers for two years. I don't even remember her face half the time."
"But you were intimate?" Evelin pressed.
I heard the sharp clink of ice hitting a glass.
"I was drugged," Bernard said effortlessly. "It was a mistake. A hallucination. It meant nothing to my honor. And it meant nothing to me."
My heart shattered into dust.
He was rewriting our history.
He was turning our love into a drug-induced error just to save face with a mafia princess.
"You can punish her if you want," Bernard added, his tone bored. "As long as she stays close. I need to keep an eye on her."
"Why?" Evelin asked.
"Because she knows too much," he said.
I slid down the wall, unable to stand.
I buried my face in my hands to stifle a sob.
I had to get the music box.
I had to get it and run.
If I stayed, he would destroy me.
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7.1
*
**One night of betrayal. One night of passion. A lifetime of consequences.**
Celine was always the shadow-the reliable twin who worked while her sister, Celeste, basked in the spotlight. But when she finds her boyfriend of five months in her sister's bed, the shadow finally snaps. A reckless night at a dive bar with a hazel-eyed stranger was supposed to be her escape, a way to forget the people who saw her as a spare part.
But the stranger wasn't just a face in the crowd. He was **Idris Al-Miraj**, the billionaire Sheikh and the owner of the very hotel where Celine works.
When her parents attempt to sell her into a sacrificial marriage to save the family's reputation, Celine finds herself hunted by her past and trapped by her future. Idris doesn't just want her back in his bed; he wants to own every brick of the wall she's built around her heart.
Jobless, homeless, and backed into a corner by a family that only needs her when they can use her, Celine prepares to run again. But Idris has other plans. He doesn't want her to run. He doesn't even want her to surrender.
He wants her to fight back.
**"Use me,"** he says.
In a world where power is the only currency, Celine must decide if the man who dismantled her life is her greatest enemy-or the only weapon she has left.
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.
8.4
On the night before her wedding, Navia Harrison discovers her fiancé in bed with her step-sister-and worse, the two of them are already planning how to get rid of her after the marriage.
Humiliated and consumed by hatred, Navia exposes their affair during the wedding ceremony itself, destroying both families' reputations in a single move.
Then, she meets him.
Leonel Crawford - the cold and dangerously powerful head of the Crawford family. Untouchable. Ruthless. A man no woman has ever been able to keep close.
He's also her ex-fiancé's uncle.
One impulsive proposal changes everything.
"If you need a wife... marry me instead."
"Honestly... we'd make a pretty good match."
7.7
I gripped the wheel of my Porsche through a Manhattan downpour, staring at the positive pregnancy test on the passenger seat. Haden's voicemail was my only answer.
A semi swerved into my lane. Brakes failed. I slammed into the guardrail, airbags exploding, pain ripping through my gut.
Headlights pierced the rain. My sister Corrie stepped out under an umbrella, smiling coldly. "Beauvais Fashion is liquidated. Dad's dying." Haden stood beside her, eyes dead, shoving equity papers through the window. "Sign, or no ambulance."
I tore them up. Corrie lit a flare, tossed it onto the gas-soaked seats. Flames whooshed as they walked away.
I woke strapped to an operating table, agony tearing me apart. "No heartbeat," the doctor said. Nurses pinned me down. Instruments invaded. Corrie dropped a death certificate on my chest, then set the room ablaze with alcohol and a cigarette flick.
Smoke choked me. A cabinet blocked the door. I collapsed, burning. Then a man in black burst in, scent of cedar and tobacco, scooping me from the fire.
Five years later, I'd rebuilt myself as Sloane, flawless and cold. I signed a sham marriage to Donavan Mason, nursing his dying grandfather in their estate—the house that swallowed my father's legacy.
Betrayed by my lover and sister, child ripped away, identity erased—how could they do this? Who was the man who saved me?
Now, I infiltrate their world, armed with secrets and scars, ready to burn them all down.
8.1
I was just a cleaner making fifteen dollars an hour, scrubbing floors to hide from a past that haunted me.
But when I walked into a billionaire's pristine penthouse, the suffocating visions hit me again. I saw a woman brutally murdered in a room that had been bleached spotless.
I called 911, and that brought the one man I had spent three years running from right to my door: NYPD Captain Kelvin O'Brien.
The patrol cops wanted to lock me up because I found the hidden blood too fast. To avoid a psych ward, I had to pretend my horrific supernatural visions were just brilliant deductive logic.
I had to physically endure the phantom sensation of the victim's throat being crushed and poison burning her stomach. All while Kelvin cornered me, demanding to know why I abandoned him and my title as the department's greatest asset, "The Oracle."
I didn't want to look at dead bodies anymore. I didn't want to feel their agonizing deaths. Why couldn't they just let me disappear?
But when the victim's wealthy husband walked into the precinct with a smug smile, ready to get away with murder, I couldn't stand it.
I forced myself to relive the victim's dying moments, guiding Kelvin to cut open her decomposed stomach to find the diamond ring she had swallowed.
"We have your blood inside her stomach."
His perfect alibi was shattered. But when we found an underground syndicate token hidden in his wallet, I knew my quiet life was over.
8.5
Elijah Sinclair is the youngest and most ruthless CEO in the city, known for his arrogance, cunning business tactics, and an ego the size of his billion-dollar empire. He doesn't take no for an answer-until he crosses paths with a dangerous man who couldn't care less about his money or influence.
Dante Moretti, the feared heir to the Moretti Mafia, is cold, merciless, and used to people cowering before him. That is until he meets Elijah, a man who refuses to back down, even when a gun is pointed at his head. What starts as a dangerous game of threats and defiance soon turns into something neither of them expected-attraction.
Now, with both their worlds colliding, Elijah finds himself in the middle of a deadly mafia war, and Dante finds himself doing something he swore he never would-falling for a cocky CEO who makes his blood boil in more ways than one.
Will their love survive betrayal, gunfire, and a whole lot of stubborn pride? Or will their worlds tear them apart before they can even admit their feelings?