
LOVE ME OR HATE ME
"I am not my sister. And you can LOVE ME OR HATE ME for that, but you don't get to punish me for her sins."
Daniel breaks. The wall doesn't just come down. It collapses.
---
Aria Blackwood didn't plan to fall in love with her boss. She planned to keep her head down, do her job, and ignore the way Daniel Cole's presence rearranged every room he entered, including the room inside her chest.
Daniel Cole didn't plan to feel anything ever again. Not after Vivienne. Not after the betrayal that stripped him of $50,000, a fake pregnancy that never existed, and every reason to trust a woman's smile.
He swore on her name. On her bloodline. On every person who carried her last name.
He just didn't know he'd already fallen for one.
When the truth surfaces at the worst possible moment, mid-engagement, mid-happiness, mid-finally, Daniel must choose between the wound that shaped him and the woman who healed him without even knowing he was bleeding.
Love was never supposed to find him again.
It sent the wrong sister anyway.
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Chapter 1
Aria's POV
Eight months.
Eight months of walking through these glass doors every morning telling myself the same lie. That today would be different. That today I would stop feeling what I had been feeling since the very first morning Daniel Cole walked past my desk without looking at me and somehow still managed to take up every single thought I had for the rest of that day.
I was still telling myself that lie.
I set my bag down at my desk and smoothed my skirt before pulling up the morning schedule. The 34th floor of Cole Enterprises was already alive with the quiet focused energy that I had grown to love. Keyboards clicking. Phones humming. The smell of fresh coffee threading through the cool conditioned air. I loved this place. I loved this job. I was also painfully aware that loving this job and loving the man who owned this building were two very different things and I had somehow managed to confuse them completely.
I opened his calendar.
Board debrief. Singapore call. Meridian contract review. Lunch that he would skip unless I reminded him twice. I added my usual note beside the lunch slot the way I always did, the way that had become less of a professional habit and more of something I did because taking care of him had quietly become the most natural thing in my day.
I stared at what I had typed.
Then I deleted it and rewrote it three times before settling on something that sounded less like a woman in love and more like a competent secretary.
The truth was I was both and only one of those things was acceptable here.
I picked up the morning report and stood from my desk. His office door was closed. It was always closed before he arrived. But I crossed the floor toward it anyway because there was always something to check, always a reason to step inside, always some professional justification for standing in the space that smelled like his cologne even when he wasn't in it yet.
I was not proud of this either.
I straightened the files on his desk. Adjusted the blinds two inches. Moved his pen holder one centimeter to the left and then back again. I stood in the middle of that office for a moment longer than I needed to and felt the particular ache that had become so familiar it almost felt like company.
Daniel Cole did not know I existed beyond the boundaries of this job.
And still I waited.
I walked back out into the hallway and that was when I heard it. That easy familiar sound that meant my morning was about to become slightly more complicated.
"Aria."
Marcus Reed was walking toward me from the direction of the finance department, tall and unhurried, with that smile already arranged on his face. The smile that arrived the moment he saw me and never quite left until we parted ways. It was a good smile. Warm and genuine and completely uncomplicated in a way that should have felt like relief.
It did not feel like relief.
"Good morning Marcus," I said, keeping my voice even and my expression professionally pleasant.
He fell into step beside me as I walked back toward my desk. "You look tired," he said, and the concern in his voice was so sincere it almost made me feel guilty.
"I slept fine," I told him.
"You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
He laughed softly and I felt the weight of everything he wasn't saying pressing against the space between us. Marcus Reed had never been difficult to read. He wore his feelings the way he wore his suits, cleanly and without apology. And what he felt about me had been written clearly across every conversation we had shared for the past three months.
I knew what he wanted.
I also knew I could not give it to him.
Not because Marcus was not worthy. He was good and steady and the kind of man that women in books described as husband material without hesitation. Not because the timing was wrong or the circumstances were complicated.
But because my heart had already gone somewhere it had no business going and it had gone there so completely that there was simply no room left for anything else.
I thought about Daniel Cole's office. The way his presence filled every corner of it. The way he sometimes paused in the middle of a sentence and looked at me and I felt it all the way down to my feet.
"I should get back to my desk," I said to Marcus. "He'll be in soon."
Marcus nodded slowly. That particular nod that said he understood more than I was saying. "Of course," he replied. "Have a good morning Aria."
I watched him walk away and then I sat down at my desk and pressed my fingers flat against the cool surface and asked myself the question that had been sitting quietly at the back of my throat for eight long months.
My boss did not see me. Not the way I needed to be seen. Not the way a woman waits to be seen by the one person her heart had chosen without permission.
But must I continue waiting for a man who may never look up, while someone else who already sees me stands right in front of me?
I did not have an answer.
I opened his calendar again instead.
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7.1
For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire.
When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again.
Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever.
When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement.
My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin.
They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor.
Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine.
While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone.
They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again.
I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love.
In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them.
The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost.
Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch.
"I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."

8.0
Blurb
**She's promised to his brother... but branded by his touch. And now the past refuses to stay buried.**
***
**SIENNA**
I thought I buried that night.
The night I gave myself to a stranger. Reckless and wild. No names. No rules. No future.
Just heat. Desperation. A body that made me forget who I was supposed to be.
Now I wear his brother's ring. Planning a future with the man I'm supposed to love.
Then he walks into my engagement party and everything shatters.
Landon Callahan. The black sheep. The rebel. The man who touched me before I knew his name.
He acts like I never existed. Like that night was nothing.
But I remember every breath. Every broken rule. Every moment I came alive.
I should walk away. Should marry Noah and forget.
But Landon has always been the fire I was never meant to touch twice.
*** **
**LANDON**
She was never supposed to be his.
The night I had her, I didn't ask her name. Didn't want to know.
I just knew I'd never forget the way she looked at me. Like I was the only thing she ever wanted.
Then I walk into the engagement party I should have skipped. And see her standing beside my brother.
Now I'm back in the world I swore I'd left behind. And she's the one thing I can't outrun.
She wears his ring. Smiles like she hasn't been in my bed. Pretends I never made her come undone.
But I remember. And so does she.
One night should have been the end.
Instead it was only the beginning.
Because I don't let go of what's mine. Not even for my brother.

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.

8.0
I posted a photo of baby shoes to celebrate my pregnancy. Two hours later, my husband was holding jumper cables.
Kaeden, the Mafia Capo who swore to protect me, stood under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the basement.
He didn't look like the man who brought me vanilla lattes. He looked like a monster.
His "fragile" childhood friend, Clemmie, had convinced him that my innocent post was a signal to our enemies.
"Discipline," Kaeden muttered, refusing to look at my weeping face. "She needs to learn the cost of her voice."
He ordered low voltage—just enough to scare me.
But the moment he walked out the door, unable to watch, Clemmie smiled.
"He's not coming back for you," she whispered.
She cranked the dial all the way to the right.
She didn't just want to teach me a lesson. She wanted to stop my heart so she could harvest it for herself.
And my husband had already signed the release forms.
But they made one mistake. They left the cleanup to Alois, the family's most ruthless Enforcer.
He didn't bury me. He saved me.
Now, while Kaeden cries over a fake grave, consumed by guilt, I am watching from the shadows.
Daria Burris died in that chair.
The woman who survived is coming for blood.

8.3
I stood before the altar of the grand gothic cathedral, about to marry Julian Moretti, the grieving adopted son stepping up for the comatose Don.
To the hundreds of mafia men behind us, it was a dutiful wedding. But I knew the horrifying truth.
Julian and his pregnant mistress, Clara, had orchestrated a brutal plot to steal my dowry and secure his place as the next Don.
In my past life, I was completely blind to their betrayal. Julian trapped me in our apartment and set it ablaze.
I could still feel the blistering heat of the fire. I could still hear my mother’s agonizing screams and my little brother Antonio’s desperate coughing as the smoke filled our lungs.
My entire family was burned alive just so Julian could swap the brides and put his whore in my place.
I died in pure agony, filled with hatred and despair, wondering why I had trusted a monster.
God hadn't saved me from those flames. The Devil had.
And he sent me back to this exact moment at the altar.
"Do you, Isabella Rossi, take Julian Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked.
Julian reached for my hand with a sickeningly gentle smile.
I didn't give it to him. I tore back my lace veil and turned to face the crowd.
"You are mistaken, Father," I said, my voice like ice. "The man I am bound to marry is your Don. Damien Moretti."

9.2
I discovered the dark secret my stepmother Beatrice had been hiding for years.
When I threatened to expose the truth to the mafia, my half-brother Angelo and step-sister Carmella locked me in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse.
Carmella stood there in my mother's expensive silk dress, her voice sweet and venomous as she confessed how she had meticulously stolen my life and my father's love.
Angelo looked at me with cold indifference, pouring gasoline over my feet before striking a match.
"You're insane for threatening to break the code of silence," they laughed, leaving me to burn alive to protect their stolen thrones.
My own father turned a blind eye, letting his trueborn daughter turn to ash just to maintain the illusion of his perfect family.
The smell of charred flesh filled my throat. Until I died, I didn't understand. I had bled for our survival, even taking a bullet for the terrifying Moretti Matriarch.
Why did my father let the bastard children of a Chicago bootlegger steal my inheritance and murder me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom heat of the inferno faded into a cool New York afternoon.
I was seventeen again, sitting in the backseat of a Cadillac, just returning from my three-year exile in Switzerland.
This time, I wouldn't just scream. I would marry the terrifying Prince of New York and watch my stepmother's entire bloodline burn.