His Fake Heir, My Undeniable Power
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."
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Chapter 4
Elara POV:
My first thought was, What is she doing here?
My second, which landed like a fist to my gut, was that she was pregnant. Not just a hint of a bump, but unmistakably, profoundly pregnant, her hands resting proprietorially on the swell of her stomach. She looked to be at least six months along.
The math clicked into place with a cold, horrifying speed. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that Marco had severe infertility issues. We had tried for years. The doctors had been clear. The child couldn't be his.
Sienna's lips curled into a smirk, a picture of smug triumph. "Surprise," she said, her voice a silken thread of venom. "I'm six months along. It's a boy."
Just then, Nonna Vitiello swept into the room, her face alight with a joy I had never seen directed at me. "Sienna, my dear!"
She rushed to Sienna's side, ignoring me completely. She took Sienna's hand and slid a priceless emerald bracelet from her own wrist onto Sienna's. It was the Vitiello family heirloom, passed down for generations. A symbol of acceptance. A crown for the new queen.
"You will call me Nonna," she cooed, stroking Sienna's hair.
Marco appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed as his gaze darted from his mother, to Sienna, and finally, to me. "Mama? What is this? Elara is my wife."
Nonna turned on me, her face contorting with years of pent-up resentment. "This barren hen?" she spat, her voice echoing in the small room. "She has given you nothing! You will divorce her. This girl is giving you a son! An heir!"
I stared at Marco, searching his eyes. Was this his plan all along? To trap me, to humiliate me into leaving?
He looked pathetic, cornered. "Elara, I'm sorry," he stammered, rushing to my side. "I was drunk. I... I thought she was you. I don't want a divorce. I swear."
The lie was so transparent, so insulting, it created a vacuum in my chest, sucking the air from my lungs. My trump card, the tiny life growing inside me, was suddenly worthless. He had his heir, or so he thought. My loyalty, our history, it meant nothing against this lie.
I shoved him away from me, my palm flat against his chest, a barrier of finality.
"You broke your oath, Marco," I said, my voice low and steady-a blade in the suffocating silence. "Don't blame me for the war that's coming."
I turned and walked out, my back straight, my head held high. I didn't look back. I walked through the throngs of laughing guests, a ghost at my own party, out into the cool night air, and pulled out my phone. I dialed Dante Moretti's number.
The car he sent was black and silent. In the back, I bit my tongue until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. It was the only way to keep from screaming. The memories of my life with Marco, once a warm fire, were now just a pile of cold, gray ash.
When I finally met Dante at another one of his silent, empty restaurants, my first question wasn't about our deal or the hydrogen portfolio.
I looked him dead in the eye. "Who is the real father of Sienna's child?"
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9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
7.5
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash.
Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive.
Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes.
"The Ruiz family sends their regards."
Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated.
My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends.
The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand.
Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her?
Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference.
I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel.
Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust.
Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in.
Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.
8.2
When our family empire crumbled, my sister and I were sold off as collateral to the Chicago Outfit.
My fierce sister Frankie was forced to marry Damien Moretti, the terrifying Don. I was shackled to his brother Leo, a notorious, degenerate playboy.
I thought my life was over, but the real nightmare began on our wedding night. A terrified maid handed me the wrong room key. Exhausted and numb, I crawled into a dark honeymoon suite, praying my new husband would be too drunk to find me.
Instead, the heavy door opened, and a man fueled by a drug-laced drink stepped in. He was ruthless, punishing, and entirely stripped away my dignity in the pitch black.
When the morning light finally broke, I turned my head, expecting to see Leo's boyish face. Instead, I saw a profile carved from ice.
Damien Moretti. The Don. My sister's husband.
The very man who had previously called me a "liability" and ruined my life. When he realized who I was, his eyes filled with absolute, chilling disgust. He dragged me out of the ruined sheets, threw me onto the floor of a freezing shower, and demanded to know why I had sneaked into his suite.
"You ruined me. How am I supposed to look at Frankie? You should have just killed me. Kill me now, Damien. It would be a mercy compared to this."
I sobbed, the freezing water mingling with my tears. He just stared down at me with cold, unreadable intent. I was now trapped in a house of monsters, carrying the Don's darkest secret, and I had to figure out how to survive without destroying my sister.
8.0
"Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster," Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more.
A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes.
"So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?" I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area.
He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. "Damien. I am Katherine's fiancé. your niece" He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers.
"Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!," I whispered back. "Now be quiet and try to control yourself" .
Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand
8.6
After being rejected by her beta husband, who humiliated and rejected her Luna's position with his true mate right after taking over the pack, Cassandra knew she needed to come out of this marriage to save her dignity. For that, she chose to seek the help of the strongest alpha in return for training his female soldiers. She entered into a contract in return for help, but who would've known this contract with the most dangerous alpha would be the biggest sin of her life, questioning her morals? "When you are in my pack, you need to smell like one of ours," Alpha Callisto whispered before pushing her against the wall with his body pressing hard into her. "But Alpha, that wasn't the part of the deal!!" Cassandra squealed, her breathing heavy in nervousness. How could he think of doing something like this to a married woman? "Well, poor you, I forgot to mention I don't follow the rules," He said before biting into her neck, right beside her mark. Will Cassandra get back her pack with the help of this sinister alpha, utterly unaware that he was the same alpha she slept with all those years ago? Will the alpha help her, or would she just be tortured in his sinful ways because of the way she stole not only his virginity but his sense of smell, too?
9.8
Three women, three brothers, a single, crumpled dollar bill.
Alina's world shatters the moment she's auctioned off-and claimed by the powerful Hawthorne brothers.
Thrown into Adrian Hawthorne's cold, dangerous world, she becomes his to control... his to protect... and, terrifyingly, his to desire. He's ruthless, possessive, and hiding secrets that could destroy them both. But the deeper she falls into his world, the harder it becomes to tell if she's his prisoner-or something far more dangerous.
Because the Hawthorne brothers don't just take.
They keep.
Viviane has spent her life surviving, so when Julian Hawthorne "buys" her freedom, she knows better than to trust it. Men like him don't save people-they collect them. But Julian isn't as simple as he pretends to be, and the deeper she's pulled into his world, the more dangerous it becomes to walk away.
Especially when she realizes she might be the only thing he's ever been willing to fight for.
Lena doesn't belong to anyone-and she intends to keep it that way. Brilliant, guarded, and hiding more than anyone suspects, she enters Lucien Hawthorne's world on her own terms. But Lucien doesn't play fair, and he doesn't let go.
When her past comes crashing back, Lena is forced to face the one thing she's been running from: trusting someone who could destroy her... or save her.
Three women. Three choices.Stay. Fight.
Or burn it all down.
Because being sold was only the beginning.