Mummy, Please Marry Uncle Biker Daddy
He wasn't supposed to notice her.
She wasn't supposed to want him.
And her daughter definitely wasn't supposed to fall in love with him first.
"He's not just dangerous," she whispers to herself . "He's the kind of man who ruins your life slowly... and makes you thank him for it."
He rides loud.
He loves hard.
And once he wants something, he doesn't let go.
"You don't get to look at me like that," she tells him.
His smile is slow. Predatory. Certain.
"I already did," he says. "And now you're mine."
She's a single mother barely holding it together.
He's a biker king with blood on his hands and loyalty carved into his bones.
Their worlds should never touch.
But they collide anyway.
"You think I don't know what you're doing to me?" he growls.
Her back hits the wall. His body cages her in.
"You think I'd touch you if I didn't plan to keep you?"
This isn't a sweet romance.
It's raw. Possessive. Unforgiving.
The kind of love that marks you.
"Mummy," her daughter says softly, holding his hand.
"Can he stay forever?"
He shouldn't want them.
But the idea of leaving them hurts worse than any knife.
"I don't share," he tells her in the dark.
"Not my bike. Not my club. And definitely not my woman."
One kiss turns into hunger.
One night turns into obsession.
And one choice could burn everything down.
"If you climb on my bike," he warns, voice low and lethal,
"you don't get off unchanged."
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Chapter 1
Mara
I didn't know my marriage was officially dead until I saw the balloons.
Pink and gold. Cheap foil. Tied to the mailbox like they belonged there.
They looked wrong against the house. Too bright. Too cheerful. Like someone had tried to decorate over a crack in the wall instead of fixing it.
Lily was already unbuckling herself in the back seat, humming under her breath. Five years old and excited in a way that made my chest ache. She had on the dress she picked herself. Too much tulle. Glitter that would end up everywhere. She'd insisted on wearing the crown too.
"Mommy," she said, leaning forward between the seats. "Daddy said he'd be here early."
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"He did?" I asked, keeping my voice even.
She nodded. "He said he had a surprise."
Of course he did.
I forced a smile and got out of the car, smoothing my shirt like that would smooth anything else. The house looked the same as it always had. Small. Modest. A little tired. I'd cleaned it top to bottom the night before, scrubbing until my fingers hurt, because cleaning was something I could control.
The balloons were new.
That should have been my first warning.
Inside, the house smelled like cake and sugar and the faint chemical tang of the cleaner I'd used on the counters. Lily ran ahead, crown crooked, shoes abandoned by the door.
"Daddy!" she yelled.
I stepped inside and froze.
Evan was standing in my kitchen like he still belonged there.
And beside him, leaning casually against my counter like she'd earned the right, was a woman I had never seen before.
She was younger than me. Not by much, but enough. Long dark hair, styled carefully. A tight smile. One manicured hand resting on Evan's arm.
The balloons weren't for Lily.
They were for her.
"Mara," Evan said, like my name still fit in his mouth. "Hey."
I stared at him, then at her, then back at him.
Lily skidded to a stop beside me, her small hand slipping into mine. She looked up at me, confused, then at the woman.
"Daddy," she said slowly. "Who's that?"
Evan hesitated. Just long enough.
"This is Vanessa," he said. "She's... a friend."
Vanessa smiled wider. Too wide. The kind of smile that wanted to be admired.
"Hi," she said brightly, bending slightly at the waist. "You must be Lily. I've heard so much about you."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
I didn't scream.
I didn't cry.
I didn't throw the cake sitting on the counter in his face, even though for half a second, I really wanted to.
Instead, I leaned my free hand on the kitchen counter and breathed.
In.
Out.
Because losing control in front of my daughter wasn't an option.
"You brought her here," I said quietly.
Evan frowned like I'd offended him. "It's Lily's birthday. I thought-"
"You thought," I repeated. "You thought bringing your girlfriend into my house was appropriate."
Vanessa's smile slipped, just a little.
"I didn't realize this would be such a big deal," she said. "Evan said you were... mature."
That did it.
I straightened slowly and looked directly at her for the first time. Really looked.
She was pretty. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the way she stood there, unbothered, like she hadn't just walked into someone else's life and started rearranging furniture.
"This is my home," I said. "You don't get to be here."
Evan stepped forward. "Mara, don't do this. Not today."
"Not today?" I asked. "You cheat on me, leave, and then show up with her on our daughter's birthday, and you think I'm the one doing something wrong?"
Lily's hand tightened in mine.
"Mommy," she whispered. "Why are you shaking?"
I looked down at her and forced my voice to soften. "I'm okay, baby."
I wasn't.
Evan sighed like I was exhausting him. "Vanessa and I are together now. I wanted to be honest."
Vanessa nodded like this was all very reasonable.
Honest would have been not sleeping with another woman while you still shared a bed with your wife.
Honest would have been not bringing your mistress into the space where your child felt safe.
"You need to leave," I said.
Evan's jaw tightened. "I'm Lily's father."
"And I'm her mother," I replied. "And I'm telling you to leave. Both of you."
Vanessa glanced at Evan. "Maybe we should go."
For a second, I thought he might argue. He had that look. The one he used to get when things didn't go his way.
Then Lily spoke.
"Daddy," she said quietly. "Is she the reason you don't sleep here anymore?"
The room went very still.
Evan didn't answer fast enough.
That was answer enough.
Lily looked up at me, her eyes too serious for her face. "Can we still have cake?"
My throat burned.
"Yes," I said. "We can still have cake."
I looked back at Evan. "Get out."
This time, he did.
Vanessa followed, her heels clicking against the floor, her head held high. She didn't look back.
The door closed behind them, and the house felt louder without them in it.
I sank into the chair at the kitchen table and pressed my fingers to my eyes.
Lily climbed into my lap without being asked and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"I don't like her," she said matter-of-factly.
I huffed out something that might have been a laugh.
"I don't either."
She rested her head against my shoulder. "Daddy used to be nicer."
I closed my eyes.
"So did a lot of things," I said softly.
Outside, the balloons bobbed in the breeze, bright and stupid and wrong.
I watched them through the window and made myself a promise.
This was the last thing Evan Collins would ever ruin for us.
I just didn't know yet how much harder he was going to make that promise to keep.
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7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
9.4
I spent the night with a stranger...
Who got me pregnant...
And turned out to be my boss...
Whoops, sorry, did I say "boss"? I meant a MOB boss.
To be fair, I didn't know he was my boss when I slept with him.
I thought he was just the kind stranger offering me a place to stay.
But one night in Misha Orlov's hotel room got me way more than I bargained for.
It got me champagne that tasted like starlight.
Satin sheets as soft as a dream.
And a man with silver eyes who showed me how it felt to come undone.
And then, in the morning...
He was gone.
That's I needed to get my life together anyway.
After all, my ex-not-quite-husband (it's a long story) just emptied all our bank accounts and disappeared, taking my home and my money and my job with him.
So I'm starting from a blank slate.
I find myself a new apartment.
A new job.
And I put both Misha and my husband behind me.
At least, I thought I did.
Until Day 1 of orientation.
When I learn that Misha Orlov is my new boss.
That's bad enough.
What's worse is what came next.
A car crash.
A doctor's appointment.
And two pieces of unsettling news.
Congratulations, the doctor says. You're pregnant.
Congratulations, Misha says. You and I are getting married.
9.1
I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears.
When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me.
Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead.
I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind.
But I was completely wrong.
My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron.
My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman.
My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density.
They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me.
7.3
While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son.
Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate.
An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir.
Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack.
Dante didn't even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her.
He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall.
Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me.
I heard him promise her, "Soon, my love. I'll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve."
The love I felt for him, the power I'd hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice.
He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent.
And I was finally going home.
9.1
I woke up strapped to a freezing operating table, a gaping hole crudely sutured over my heart.
Joi Rocha, my supposed guardian, stood nearby holding a glowing vial that contained my freshly extracted Phoenix gene sequence.
"Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do."
In my past life, I endured years of illegal biological harvests for this family. My fiancé Brennon watched with cold eyes as they ripped the gene from my chest, while the elite academy students filmed and mocked my bleeding, broken body. They stripped me of my status, drained every drop of my worth, and left me to die in a freezing tomb just so their precious fake daughter could thrive.
Until my dying breath, I didn't understand. I had given them my absolute loyalty, so why was I treated like disposable medical waste? Why did my life mean absolutely nothing to them?
But opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the exact day they stole my core.
This time, I didn't cry or beg. I stared dead into Joi's eyes and smiled.
I detonated the residual energy in my chest to incinerate Gayla's stolen sequence, faked my own flatline, and injected myself with a hidden dark matter drive to completely rewrite my DNA.
If they wanted to play God with my life, I was going to burn their entire world to ash.
8.8
For three years, I swallowed a bitter pill daily, suppressing my royal white wolf bloodline for a normal life as the Alpha's Luna. That morning, my husband Santino coldly announced a crucial announcement, then entered our grand hall with another woman, declaring, "Alessia, she will be living here from now on."
She was pregnant, he announced, carrying our late Beta's child-yet her neck was unmarked. My scoff met his furious Alpha dominance, threatening my title, forcing my bow as he settled her into the suite next to ours.
Her sickening scent soon permeated my private study. Later, I found him intimately grooming her in the kitchen-a sacred act for mates-while he snarled mental insults, branding my jealousy pathetic.
Watching his hands violate our vows, a slow, cruel smirk pulled at my lips. My three-year marriage was officially over. I had already paused my royal trust fund's capital, then severed our mind link with a chilling declaration: "Don't touch me with the hands that just touched her."