The Don's Dangerous Addiction
"Take them off yourself, or I will do it for you."
Ten sessions. Two hundred thousand dollars. Her brother's life for her body.
Dr. Avery St. Clair signed a contract in blood. To save her family, she has to fix the mind of Obsidian City's most feared monster, Dominic Kessler. He's a Mafia Don rotting from the inside out. A bullet gave him C-PTSD and a touch so sensitive he can't stand being touched. Avery is the only antidote who can calm him down. So he locked her in his villa.
But Dominic is playing a game he's already lost.
He doesn't know Avery is the woman from seven years ago. The stranger who saved him on that dark gambling ship and disappeared before sunrise.
He doesn't know the scar on his wrist is burned into her memory.
And most of all, he doesn't know the autistic little girl hiding in her clinic is his own daughter.
While Avery hides the truth behind her professional mask, their little girl feels his every nightmare. Every flashback. Every crack in his monster mask.
When the secrets finally come out, his empire will fall. He'll lose his sight. His throne. The only woman who ever made him feel human.
To win her back, he'll have to destroy the monster he became. And help her burn down the man who murdered her parents.
She won't make it easy.
This is not a love story. It's a monster learning to beg.
Why read this?
Obsessive Mafia Hero
Secret Baby with an Autistic and Gifted Daughter
Identity Reveal
"Touch Her And You Die" Energy
Massive Groveling and Revenge
A Heroine Who Fights Back
No Cheating. Happy Ending Guaranteed.
Chapters
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Chapter 9
Dorothea lowered her head and went back to drawing. The crayon scratched across the paper.
"Dorothea." Avery crouched beside her daughter.
"Who told you that number?"
Dorothea didn't look up. "I saw it."
"Where did you see it?"
The little girl's hand stopped. She put down the crayon, picked up her rabbit, and buried her face in it. No answer.
Avery didn't push. She stood up and walked to the door. Dominic leaned against the wall in the hallway, holding the pin she had left downstairs. He was tracing the pattern with his thumb.
He hadn't stepped into the room. He just stood at the door and glanced at the drawing.
His fingers slowly lifted and pressed against the star shaped scar on his wrist. He paused.
"That mark," he said, voice low. "It's on that door."
Avery saw his fingers on the scar. She didn't ask how he knew.
"Your parents' lab. 17 North Industrial District." He placed the pin back in her hand. "That's what your daughter drew."
Avery's fingers closed around the pin.
Dorothea had never been there. She had never even heard that address.
"Someone taught her." Avery's voice trembled, but she forced herself steady. "Or someone made sure she saw it."
Dominic pressed his fingers to his brow. The bandage on his arm scraped against the wall. A faint smear of blood appeared. He didn't notice.
"Drake." He pulled out his phone. "Get me everything on 17 North Industrial District. All recent entry and exit records. And Wenger's movements. Everyone under him. Every detail."
"Also, what about the surveillance you were checking yesterday?"
Drake's voice came through. "One of the household staff we questioned last night is missing. The woman who cleans the living room. The one Dr.Clair mentioned, who touched her pocket."
Dominic's eyes went cold.
"Find her. Every exit from the villa. Perimeter cameras. City traffic footage. Dig her out."
He hung up.
Avery looked at the blood stain seeping through his bandage. She stepped forward and reached for his arm.
Her fingertips had just touched the edge when he caught her wrist.
"Don't."
She didn't pull back. "I'm a doctor. Let me handle it. If you tough it out and get an infection, it won't just affect you."
He looked at her. The pressure on her wrist slowly eased.
"The study," he said. "There's a medical kit there."
They walked into the study. Dominic unbuttoned his cuff and revealed his bandaged arm.
Avery unwrapped the gauze. The wound was worse than she thought. The edges were red and swollen. The inner layer of bandage had stuck to the dried blood.
She pinched a corner and peeled it off slowly. He didn't make a sound, but his fingers gripped the armrest of the chair. His arm trembled.
She put on fresh gauze. Her fingertips pressed gently at the edge of the wound. She waited for him to breathe through it.
"Hurt?"
He didn't answer. His throat moved.
She didn't ask again. The iodine swab brushed over the wound. His arm tensed, then relaxed just as fast. She looked up at him. His eyes were lowered, watching her hands. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Dominic."
"Mm."
"You were watching surveillance all night?"
He didn't answer.
She finished re wrapping the wound. His fingers were still clenched around the armrest.
"Your hand."
He looked down and slowly let go. She saw four nail marks pressed into his palm.
"Take your medication on time. At least you'll sleep." She closed the medical kit. "I need you to do something for me."
He looked up.
"The missing maid. She's connected to the mole. There might be others left." She paused. "You're better at reading people than Drake's men. You want me to interrogate them?"
Dominic pulled a folder from the drawer and pushed it across the desk.
"They're afraid of me. They won't say anything in front of me. You're different."
He pushed the folder toward her. His fingertips lingered on the edge for a moment. He didn't say please. He didn't say I'm asking.
"This is everyone's file. Including my own people."
She looked at his fingers for a second, then picked up the folder.
"You suspect Drake's men?"
"I suspect everyone." His voice was flat. "I never needed to check before. Now Dorothea and Julian are here."
"Alright. I'll do it."
The interrogation room was in the basement.
Drake pushed open the heavy steel door. A woman sat inside. Mid forties. Head down.
Avery stood at the door and scanned the room. Steel door. Soundproof walls. Even the door handle was twice as thick as normal. She had seen rooms like this in crime shows. Now she was standing in one.
"Wait outside," she said to Drake.
He nodded and closed the door.
"What's your name?" Avery sat down.
"Marie."
"How long have you worked here?"
"Two years."
"Do you like it here?"
The woman blinked. She didn't answer.
Avery placed the folder on the table. Inside was Marie's file and a few photos of her family.
"Your daughter is starting college this year?"
The woman nodded.
"Tuition isn't cheap."
The woman didn't answer. Her fingers clutched her knees. Her body leaned forward, tense.
"Someone asked you for a favor. They paid you."
The woman's head shot up. "I didn't-"
"You didn't hurt anyone." Avery cut her off. "You just lent someone your key card. You didn't know what she was going to do."
The woman stared at her. Her lips were shaking.
"Tell me when she came to you."
"Last month... She said her brother was sick. She needed money. Just a five minute borrow of the card. I didn't know-"
"What's her name?"
"Leah. The one who's missing."
Avery stood up.
"I-am I going to be fired?" The woman's voice shook.
"No." Avery walked to the door and opened it. "Next."
The second one was a young man. Early twenties. His leg bounced nervously.
"Do you know Leah?"
He nodded. "She's my cousin."
"What did she tell you?"
He hesitated. "She said... someone was looking for something. In the villa. If she found it, she'd get a lot of money."
"What something?"
"I don't know. She said it was a box. Metal. Small."
Avery's fingers paused. Her face didn't change. "What else?"
"She said there was someone behind it. Not Dr. Wenger. Someone higher up." He looked at her. "She said that person knows you. Has known you for a long time."
Avery stood there for a few seconds. "Did she say a name?"
"She was too scared. Said if the information leaked, she'd be killed."
The rest of the questions got nothing useful.
Avery walked out of the interrogation room. Drake followed.
"What about the third one?"
"The third is a driver. Been with the boss for five years." Drake lowered his voice.
"He didn't say anything. But surveillance caught him near the garage the night Leah went missing."
"Who was he waiting for?"
"Don't know. But the garage cameras were shut off for fifteen minutes."
She stopped and looked at Drake, thinking.
"Who can turn off the cameras?"
Drake didn't answer, but something in his eyes said enough.
"Your men."
He gave a heavy nod.
She stood there, gripping the folder. Her frown deepened. Her thoughts were a mess.
Dominic suspected Drake's men. Drake suspected his own men.
No one could be trusted. Just like he said.
Avery was about to head upstairs when Drake's phone rang first.
He answered, listened for a few seconds, then handed the tablet to Dominic.
Dominic glanced at it and turned the screen to Avery.
Live surveillance footage of 17 North Industrial District. On the outer wall of the abandoned lab building, someone had carved a fresh line of text. The ink was still wet.
"Candidate A. I'm waiting for you inside."
Avery stared at the words. She didn't move.
Dominic stood beside her, looking at the same screen.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Tonight, finish going through what Wenger left. The envelope from your brother. You haven't opened it yet."
He turned and walked toward the study. Two steps in, he stopped. He didn't look back.
"Come find me when you're done."
Avery went back to her room. Dorothea was already asleep.
She pulled the envelope from the inside pocket of her jacket and tore it open.
Inside was a photograph.
Taken years ago, at the entrance of her parents' lab.
Avery stood on the steps, holding a book, her eyes curved into crescents from smiling.
Beside her parents stood a figure. The face was blacked out.
She stared at the blacked out face, trying to make out the silhouette. Then her phone buzzed.
A message from Drake. Sent to Dominic, and copied to her.
"Leah's body has been found. Outside the west wall of the villa, hidden in the grass. A ligature mark on her neck. A note clutched in her palm."
The photo of the note was attached. One line of text.
"Next. Your daughter."
Avery stared at the words. Her feet moved before she realized it.
She pushed open Dorothea's door and crouched by the bed. The little girl was asleep. Her breathing was light.
Avery touched her daughter's face. Her nose stung.
Footsteps came from behind her. Dominic stood in the doorway, phone in hand, screen still lit.
"You saw it," he said.
"Yes."
"You sleep here tonight. I'll stay outside."
She didn't say yes. She didn't say no. She picked up Dorothea, blanket and all. He pushed the door open. She walked in and laid the child down.
Dorothea turned over, face in the pillow. She didn't wake.
Avery stood by the bed, looking at her daughter.
"You're not sleeping?" Dominic's voice came from the doorway.
"I can't."
He was quiet for a moment. "Neither can I."
He walked in, pulled a chair over, and sat down facing the door. His back against the wall. She pulled another chair and sat next to him.
They sat side by side in silence. The lights were off. Moonlight came through the window.
After a long time, she spoke.
"What are you afraid of?"
"That you'll die." His voice was very soft.
She turned her head to look at him. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on the door.
"You?" he asked.
"That she'll die."
He was quiet for a moment. "Then let's not die."
She didn't answer. She put her hand on the armrest. Her fingertips touched his elbow. He didn't pull away. She didn't move her hand.
They sat like that, in the dark. Neither of them spoke again.
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9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
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?
8.5
After surviving years in the Alpha King's brutal prisons, I returned to my pack only to be stripped of my family home and exiled to a rotting cabin.
I accepted the humiliation in silence, until I found a dying baby girl abandoned in a trash-filled alley.
Taking her in awoke the terrifying, protective beast I had kept chained in my mind. The pack, fueled by rumors and a jealous woman's bruised ego, viewed us as abominations. They trespassed on my land to uncover my "dirty secrets," forcing me to build a massive stone fortress with my bare hands just to keep my daughter safe from their cruelty.
We lived in isolated peace for years, until the day I took her outside the walls to visit my parents' graves.
A convoy of royal Alphas arrived, and their Luna fell to her knees at my mother's cousin's grave, weeping and calling her "sister."
I didn't understand. Why was my forgotten family connected to the royals? And why did Cassian Vargan, the most powerful Alpha in the world, freeze in absolute shock the moment he realized who I was?
"You... are you Gideon Stone's son?"
The bloody past I had buried under a mountain of stone had finally found me.
I didn't answer him. I just pulled my daughter behind me and tightly gripped my knife, ready to slaughter a king if he took one more step.
7.6
I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip.
Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes.
His pale chest was torn open to the bone.
I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop.
He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel.
And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain.
A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days.
My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid.
"Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume."
If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed.
But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap.
How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself?
I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive.
Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face.
"Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
This time, I will rewrite my own fate.
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.