The Disposable Bride's Deadly Secret Identity
My debt-ridden uncle sold me to the Romero mafia family to save his own skin.
I was forced to marry Emiliano Romero, a man known to the underworld as "The Ghost"—a rumored monster who supposedly tore his last two caretakers apart.
My aunt and cousin delighted in my misery. My cousin came at me with a razor, leaving a nasty bruise on my face, while my aunt bleached my hair to make me look like a cheap, disposable doll.
When the Romeros arrived, they didn't even pretend to want a daughter-in-law.
"The Family needs a nobody whose death won't start a police report."
They just wanted a clueless victim to sign a pre-nup and die quietly. They shoved me down a sterile hallway and locked me inside a fortified, padded cell with a man wrapped in heavy chains.
They all thought they were sacrificing a helpless, terrified lamb to a madman. They laughed at my tears, completely convinced I was just gutter trash waiting to be slaughtered.
But they had no idea I was a highly trained undercover operative.
Listening to their arrogant whispers, the pieces finally clicked. Emiliano wasn't a deranged killer—he was a prisoner being drugged and framed by his own blood.
I drained my uncle's bank account to buy a neurotoxin antidote, dropped my pathetic, trembling disguise, and stepped calmly into the monster's cage.
I wasn't here to be their victim. I was here to save him.
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Chapter 3
Adrienne POV
The bruise on my cheekbone throbbed a dull, steady rhythm the next morning as I sat at the stainless-steel island in the guest wing kitchen. I kept my shoulders hunched, staring blankly at a plate of dry toast.
The heavy, suffocating presence of August Romero filled the room before he even spoke. The Underboss of the Romero family walked in with the cold arrogance of a man who owned the air we breathed. He didn't look at me. Instead, he tossed an unassigned black Romero credit card onto the counter.
"Take her out," August ordered Brenda, his voice flat. "Make her look expensive, but don't make her look smart."
Brenda nodded eagerly, practically salivating at the sight of the black card. "Of course, Mr. Romero. I'll have her wear a hat to cover... the flaws."
Hours later, I was standing in a cramped changing room of a high-end department store on Fifth Avenue. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, reflecting the cheap, tight sequined dress Brenda had forced me into. I stumbled out, deliberately letting my knees knock together like a clueless country girl overwhelmed by the marble and designer perfumes.
Cammie snickered, holding up her phone. The camera flashed. Through the reflection of the three-way mirror, I watched her screen. She sent the photo to a private group chat, typing out the hashtag `#GutterBride`.
I memorized the chat name and the exact timestamp. This wasn't humiliation. It was reconnaissance. The first bullet loaded into the chamber for my eventual Vendetta.
The destruction of my identity continued at a top-tier salon on Madison Avenue.
"Bleaching it this fast will cause permanent damage," the elegant stylist warned, running his fingers through my healthy, dark hair.
"Do it," Brenda snapped.
The chemicals burned my scalp, a sharp, biting pain that I welcomed. It kept my mind sharp. When they were finished, my hair was a fried, blinding platinum blonde. I stared at the empty-eyed doll in the mirror. The transformation was complete. I looked exactly like the disposable plaything they needed me to be.
By the time we reached Mrs. Gable's private studio in the Upper East Side for my etiquette lesson, I was ready to test the waters.
I played the absolute fool. I dropped the heavy posture book from my head, clattered the salad fork against the fine china, and slurped my tea. When August Romero arrived to inspect his investment, Mrs. Gable looked ready to weep.
"She is a vulgar liability," the instructor complained, gesturing to me as I cowered in the corner. "She has no refinement whatsoever."
August just smirked, his dark eyes sweeping over my tacky blonde hair and the faint outline of the bruise beneath my makeup. "I don't need her to know which fork to use. I need her to spread her legs and sign a pre-nup."
I lowered my lashes, letting my trembling hands hide the ice-cold satisfaction settling in my chest. He had just handed me his entire playbook.
Before we left the studio, I slipped into the locked stall of the marble restroom. A moment later, the door opened, and the sharp click of heels echoed against the tiles.
"Why does that bitch get two million dollars?" Cammie whined, her voice echoing over the running water. "It's not fair."
"Hush," Brenda hissed, though her tone was thick with venomous pride. "That two million is bait to get her to sign. Once she's married and unlocks Emiliano's trust, The Ghost will take care of her. He's already put two nurses in the ground. The Family needs a nobody whose death won't start a police report."
The restroom door clicked shut as they left.
I stood perfectly still in the silence. There was no fear, only the rapid, flawless calculation of my training. The pieces snapped together. Emiliano wasn't a deranged killer. He was a prisoner, likely being drugged to frame him for the murders of his caretakers. My mission objective shifted in a fraction of a second. I wasn't here to hunt a monster anymore. I was here to save an ally.
I stepped out of the stall and looked at the battered, blonde stranger in the mirror.
*Two million... Enough to buy the purest grade of neurotoxin antidote on the black market.*
I wiped a smudge of cheap lipstick from my mouth. Tomorrow morning, before the Romero cars arrived, Harlon Holcomb was going to give me that money.
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9.3
I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently.
The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger.
I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out.
I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum?
The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.
7.9
He is cursed. She is a slave.
Their forbidden bond will either save their world or set it ablaze.
Caeser Varyn, the formidable Alpha King, is a figure of fear, his very blood tainted by a curse that has claimed every mate the Moon Goddess has given him. His existence is a lonely burden of twisted power, until a single, accidental touch changes everything.
Ava is a ghost in the royal palace-an unseen slave girl with a quiet grace and a hidden power. When the Moon Goddess's mating mark appears on her wrist, Caeser shatters ancient laws and claims her as his own.
Their forbidden union ignites a firestorm, forcing them to flee the burning palace and the outrage of the pack.
Turned out she's gifted by the Moon Goddess and to survive, Ava must master the power she never knew she possessed, expose the traitors who surround them, and find a way to break the ancestral curse.
If she fails, her love will be consumed, and their world will fall to the dark power of a corrupted god.
7.8
Anna Williams never imagined her life would collide with Alexander Knight-the cold, ruthless CEO feared across industries. When fate pushes her into his path, she discovers that power and wealth come with dangerous chains. Bound by a contract she can't escape, Anna must navigate his world of secrets, betrayal, and a passion that burns hotter than she ever dreamed. But behind his icy exterior lies a man scarred by trust and haunted by loss.
Will she be able to melt the billionaire's heart, or will she remain just another possession... claimed by the CEO?
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
7.6
For seventeen years, I was the pride of the Carlisle family, the perfect daughter destined to inherit an empire. But that life ended the moment a DNA report slid across my father’s mahogany desk.
The paper proved I was a stranger. Vanessa, the girl sobbing in the corner, was the real biological daughter they had been searching for.
"You need to leave. Tonight. Before the press gets wind of this. Before the stock prices dip."
My father’s voice was as cold as flint. My mother wouldn't even look at me, staring out the window at the gardens as if I were already a ghost. Just like that, I was erased. I left behind the Birkin bags and the diamonds, throwing my Centurion Card into a crystal bowl with a clatter that echoed like a gunshot. I walked out into the cold night and climbed into a rusted Ford Taurus driven by a man I had never met—my biological father.
I went from a mansion to a fourth-floor walk-up in Queens that smelled of laundry detergent and struggle. My new siblings looked at me with a mix of fear and disgust, waiting for the "fallen princess" to break. They expected me to beg for my old life back, to crumble without the luxury I’d known since birth.
But they didn't know the truth. I had spent years training in a shark tank, honing survival skills they couldn't imagine. While Richard Carlisle froze my trust funds to starve me out, my net worth was climbing by millions on an encrypted trading app.
They thought they were throwing me to the wolves. They didn't realize they were just letting me off my leash. As the Carlisles prepared to debut Vanessa at the Manhattan Arts Gala, I was already making my move.
"Get dressed. We're going to a party."
8.4
I died on a filthy bed in a back-alley clinic.
I willingly sacrificed my own corneas so the Mafia man I loved could see the light of day again.
But my soul was forced to stay behind, watching another woman claim my sacrifice as her own.
Dante reclaimed his throne as the Mafia boss. Believing the lie that I had abandoned him, he unleashed his vengeance upon my family.
"Where the hell is she hiding?"
He shattered my brother's hands and drove my mother to her death. He absolutely refused to believe the fact that I was already dead, convinced instead that I was just cowering from his wrath.
It wasn't until my medical records were thrown right in his face that Dante finally realized whose eyes he was using to look at the world.
The truth drove him completely insane.
He burned the whole world down just to beg for my forgiveness.
"Gianna, please wait for me!"