Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.

Chapters

Chapter 3

Elena Rossi POV:

The charity auction was less a gathering and more a battlefield disguised in silk and shadows. A sea of black tuxedos and glittering diamonds stretched out before me.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

Dante had explicitly told me to stay home, dismissing the evening as "tedious family politics."

But Marco, bless his well-meaning but confused heart, had sent a driver for me, assuming Dante had simply forgotten to issue the invitation. I couldn't refuse without raising questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

So, I stood in the periphery, half-hidden by the cold shadow of a marble pillar, watching.

Dante stood in the center of the room. He didn't just occupy the space; he commanded it. He looked like a king. Lethal. Beautiful. Untouchable.

And Sofia was next to him.

She was wearing red. The color of warning. The color of blood.

She was laughing, her hand lingering on his bicep, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered secrets I would never hear.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavy, charged with static.

Three men from the Russo family approached them. They were drunk, their voices too loud for the polite hum of the room.

One of them grabbed Sofia's arm, his grip visibly rough.

"Look at the little princess," the man sneered, his words slurring. "Crawling back to the big bad wolf now that daddy is broke?"

Sofia let out a sound-a sharp, theatrical cry that cut through the noise like glass.

Dante moved faster than thought.

He seized the man's wrist and torqued it. The sickening crunch of bone snapping echoed through the hall.

Chaos erupted.

Security swarmed. People screamed. Champagne glasses shattered.

Dante shoved the man back, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated violence.

"Get back!" Dante roared.

He swung his arm backward to clear a perimeter, creating a protective circle around Sofia.

He didn't see me.

He didn't know I had stepped forward, instinctively trying to reach him, to pull him back from the edge.

His heavy forearm slammed into my chest with the force of a battering ram.

I flew backward.

My head cracked against the sharp edge of the marble pillar.

White light exploded behind my eyes, blinding and absolute.

I crumpled to the floor, my vision swimming.

Warmth trickled down my neck. Thick. Metallic. Blood.

"Dante..." I gasped, the air knocked from my lungs.

But he wasn't looking at me.

He was kneeling on the floor, his attention entirely consumed by Sofia, holding her ankle with gentle hands.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her, his voice frantic, stripped of its usual composure. "Did they touch you?"

"My ankle," Sofia sobbed, clutching his lapels. "I think I twisted it. Oh god, Dante, take me away."

He scooped her up in his arms without hesitation.

He walked right past me.

His expensive Italian leather shoes stepped squarely into a fresh droplet of my blood on the polished floor.

He didn't look down.

He carried her out of the hall like she was porcelain, leaving me bleeding on the cold stone, invisible in the wreckage.

I stitched the wound myself in the bathroom of the penthouse.

Four stitches.

I didn't use anesthetic. The sharp bite of the needle in my scalp was a welcome distraction from the gaping hole in my chest.

I sat on the bathroom tiles all night, staring at the door, waiting for the handle to turn.

It didn't.

The next morning, my phone rang.

"Velvet Lounge. VIP Room 703. Now," Dante's voice was ice. Absolute zero.

He hung up before I could breathe a word.

I pulled on a high-necked sweater to hide the bandage and hailed a cab, my head still throbbing in time with my heart.

When I walked into the private room, the air was thick with acrid cigar smoke and suffocating tension.

Dante was sitting on the leather sofa, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. Sofia was next to him, her foot propped up on a velvet pillow, wrapped dramatically in an ace bandage.

She looked perfect. Not a hair out of place. A pristine victim.

Dante looked at me with eyes I didn't recognize. They were void of any warmth, any recognition of who I was to him.

"Explain," he said.

"Explain what?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands.

"The men at the auction," Dante said, his voice low and dangerous. "The Russos."

"What about them?"

"Sofia says you know them," Dante said. "She says she saw you signaling them before they approached her."

I looked at Sofia, stunned.

She offered me a sad, pitying smile. It was a masterful performance. "Elena, I know you're jealous. But to hire thugs to scare me? That's dangerous. You could have gotten Dante hurt."

My jaw dropped.

"You think I hired the Russo family?" I asked, looking back at Dante, searching for sanity. "Dante, I was standing in the corner. You hit me. You knocked me out."

"Don't lie to me!" Dante slammed his hand on the table, making the crystal glasses jump.

I flinched, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

"I saw the security footage, Elena," he snarled. "You were there. Watching. Waiting."

"I was waiting for *you*," I whispered, the truth sounding pathetic even to my own ears.

"You're lucky I don't kill you for endangering the future Donna," Dante spat, the title hanging in the air like a guillotine blade. "But because of what you did for me in the past... I will show mercy."

Mercy.

He pointed a finger at Sofia.

"Apologize," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Apologize to her. On your knees."

Continue to next part

In a dilapidated warehouse, my husband brutally cut open my abdomen to extract the fetus. All for the sake of obtaining bone marrow from our child to save the life of the son he had with his mistress. "Honey, I'm begging you, don't hurt the baby," I pleaded with him. "Arina, don't be afraid. It won't hurt. Just a little while, and you'll be free,". Just when I was on the verge of giving up all hope, the sound of approaching help reached my ears. I felt a glimmer of joy, thinking I was finally going to escape this nightmarish hell. But then, in an instant, there was a sharp "Puff!" It was the sound of a dagger slicing through my belly. There was a deep gash in my abdomen, and blood was gushing out profusely. "Ah! My baby!" "How could you be so cruel?" I stared in disbelief at my best friend standing before me. "Arina, you have to die today..."

Horror Modern Romance

9.3

Bound By His Obsession, Trapped Forever

9.3

My mate, Theron, was a powerful Alpha, and I, a scentless Omega, was his greatest prize. But beneath his adoring facade was a terrifying, possessive monster, revealed when he dragged me home and forced me into our bed after I was late to his challenge match. His golden eyes burned with chilling control, and he whispered a threat that turned my blood to ice. I'd been stuck on a forest road, my truck dead, racing to reach his challenge match. His mate bond panic had already frayed my nerves, but nothing prepared me for his rage. He'd publicly broken his opponent's shoulder, then stalked directly to me, ignoring the crowd. He marked my lateness with chilling precision, before dragging me away to our rooms for "punishment." Later, as he tried to force a ceremonial marking pendant on me, he promised, "If you will not accept my mark willingly, then I will wait for your Heat. I will fuck you until your body begs for it, and my wolf will hold you down while I bite." My gaze fell on his open journal, filled with frantic, scrawled words: "SHE IS MINE. PUNISH. CLAIM. MARK HER. BREED HER. MAKE HER UNDERSTAND SHE IS MINE. MINE. MINE." The man I loved, my only protection, was a captor in disguise, his devotion a gilded cage. Every gentle touch, every soft word, now felt like a brand of ownership, a tightening leash. The terrifying truth of his pathological obsession finally hit me. A fragile plan formed in the space between heartbeats: I would de-escalate, redefine, and survive, no matter the cost, before his possessive madness consumed me entirely.

Horror Romance Werewolf

9.4

Claimed by the Disguised Alpha King

9.4

My brother and his wife slapped the contract on the table, forcing me to marry Alpha Stone. He was a cruel monster known for breaking his mates' bones, and I was just the price for a new trade route. Right before I surrendered, the legendary Blackwood Pack arrived. But they didn't offer a glorious rescue. They claimed I was the fated mate of Kaelan, a disgraced, wolfless Omega. My family laughed in my face, eagerly taking the dowry and throwing me out like garbage. They mocked my miserable future, sending me off to a crumbling shack in the woods. When they later summoned us back to publicly demand a humiliating "tribute" to bleed us dry, they waited for me to break. "Couldn't handle life in a shack with an Omega? Come crawling back already?" my sister-in-law sneered. But I refused to let them shame him. I didn't understand why the Moon Goddess gave me an Omega, but Kaelan was kind, giving me the only bed while he slept on the cold floor. Why did my family value a cruel Alpha over a gentle soul? I declared to their faces that his loyal spirit was worth more than any title. Then, a vicious rogue wolf threatened us at the local market. My "wolfless" husband stepped in front of me and grabbed the rogue's wrist. Suddenly, a suffocating, terrifying Alpha King's aura exploded from Kaelan, bringing the rogue to his knees in pure terror. I stared at my quiet, supposedly weak mate in absolute shock. Who exactly did I marry?

Horror Romance Werewolf

8.1

HOSTILE OATH

8.1

Vivian bears the weight of an ancestral curse, a yoke forged in darkness, which was meant to be broken. A future ravaged by war and chaos loomed, threatening her destiny but Vivian's path was not yet set to answer to her inheritance. Ignorant of her true identity, she couldn't control the powers she possessed, losing loved ones in the process and consumed by self-guilt. Yet, from the ashes of despair, she felt the rage and determination to harness the powers consuming her in her shadow and forge a new path; maybe she could get back all she had lost in all possible ways she could. Prophecy were made, and a formidable force stirred, rising to challenge her claim. When a greater threat arose, Vivian faced a brutal reality: prepare for battle or succumb to the shadows but there was a price to pay. She was left with two options; reclaim her birthright or shatter the chains of destiny!

Action Fantasy Horror

8.6

Tales of Universe of Temptations

8.6

Temptations, a world of investigation, mystery, and the supernatural, unfolds through tales set in the Lovecraft County universe, where magic and science intertwine, magical families vie for power like imperial houses, and cosmic entities observe from the veils of reality. This saga, born from intrigues of power, mystery, debauchery, and passionate bodies, is a testament to this. Tsuki, the man with red and white hair, is heir to a cursed lineage, always entangled in passionate affairs between men and women. Whenever his eyes meet, they reveal secrets that should not be seen. His heart is always divided between forbidden passions and ancestral responsibilities. Throughout his life, his dealings, intrigues, and mysteries unfold, amidst love affairs, sex, and passions, as he becomes involved with his witches, each representing aspects of desire and seduction, bringing with them mysteries, intrigues, and dangers, amidst intrigues, love affairs, passionate affairs, darkness, light, and the entanglements of bodies and their moments of passion. From masked balls to blood pacts, from living paintings to endless towers, Tsuki traverses scenarios that blend the cosmic horror of Lovecraft with the political intrigues of Dunes and space planets embroiled in political intrigue, where the magical atmosphere of magical worlds, amidst romances, is enveloped in conspiracy, each passion a prophecy, each choice a risk. Temptations is more than a saga of love and magic. It's a universe of family intrigues, secret pacts, and cosmic entities. While wandering among thrillers and detective cases, amidst the story of a man torn between temptation and destiny, between chaos and passion. In the midst of embarking on a dark, mature, and captivating epic, where each page is an invitation to the abyss-and each temptation is a choice between living and being lost. Tsuki was born under the reflection of this Mirror, his red and white hair a sign of the curse, and his eyes revealing secrets that should not be seen. Still always involved, since he was a child, he was haunted by visions of witches and shadows, and each family saw him as a threat or prophecy, among demons and supernatural beings, in the midst of dark cities, warm beds, and his passions. After traversing masked balls, blood pacts, living paintings, endless towers, and enchanted seas, Tsuki reaches the end of his journey. As he embarks on stories that show the mirror, now broken into nine fragments, revealing its truth: every witch he loved, every intrigue he faced, every temptation that consumed him, was part of the same destiny. In the final reflection, Tsuki sees himself-not as an heir, not as a lover, not as an artist, but as a bridge between worlds. At various moments, he understands that love and desire are not curses, but forces capable of challenging even forgotten gods.

Fantasy Horror LGBT+Mystery Romance Sci-Fi

8.2

The Canary Who Learned To Fly

8.2

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Horror Mafia Mystery

Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

Chapter 3

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