The mafia's king bride claimed by his obsession.
Dad sold me off to pay a debt to the scariest guy in New York, no less.
Damiano Rossi isn't just some mob boss. He's like a hurricane in fancy clothes, a handsome, mean beast who controls everything around him.
Except for me.
I'm only his wife on paper. I'm still a virgin, and he won't sleep with me, but he also won't let me go, until we did it, and since then, my heart has belonged to him.
He's cruel in a sophisticated way.
Every night, he brings other girls into our house. I can hear them laughing, whispering things, and making noises of enjoyment. It's a constant reminder that I'm just something he owns, not someone he cares about.
He's slowly breaking me, teaching me to obey him by ignoring me, and keeping me locked up with expensive gifts.
But even diamonds can be used as a weapon.
I said I might give myself to someone else to feel free for once.
He reacted by threatening to kill anyone who touched me.
He may not want me, but he'll ruin anyone who does.
Then Lucas, my first boyfriend, showed up again. He's kind, genuine, and not scared of the monster who owns me. He's willing to fight to set me free.
And for the first time, Damiano's cold act slips, and you can see something scary underneath: jealousy, like burning fire, an obsession that won't let go.
So here I am, stuck between a messed-up guy who won't love me and a nice guy who can't save me. I'm realizing that the real problem isn't the fight over my heart.
It's the hidden enemy, the one no one suspects, that they are plotting and betraying that could screw us all over.
I was sold, silenced, and broken.
But a girl who has been broken can become a queen that's fearless.
And this queen has decided to start her own game where the rules are top secret, the price is blood, and the only way to win is to burn everything to the ground.
Get ready for a story packed with risky romance, killer secrets, and a love life that's so rough, it feels like war.
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Chapter 2
The sounds started up again just after midnight.
First, a low voice from downstairs Damon. Then a woman's laugh, sharp and bright, slicing through the quiet.
I dragged the pillow over my head. The silk didn't help, not even a little.
My room was huge, all soft grays and pale creams. A designer's idea of comfort, but honestly, it felt like a fancy prison. The window looked out over perfectly trimmed gardens, now just shapes and shadows in the moonlight. The door didn't even have a lock.
Footsteps in the hallway bare feet, not heels, padding across the wood. Then a door creaked open, not Damon's bedroom. Somewhere else.
Isabella laughed again, closer this time. "You're terrible."
"You love it," Damon said, voice low and private.
My stomach twisted. I got up, the floor cold under my feet. I went to the door and pressed my ear to the wood.
Now I could hear everything. They were right across the hall, in the sitting room.
"On the couch," Damon said. Not a suggestion. A command.
"So commanding," Isabella purred.
Then he grabbed her, one hand on her throat and the other under her thigh, he lifted her like she weighed nothing and slammed her on the couch.
A soft thump. Her sharp inhale. Then the slow, steady creak of the couch springs.
My face burned, but I couldn't move. Shame pinned me in place.
He groaned low, rough, possessive. "Quiet."
"Make me," she shot back, her voice all breath and teasing and without wasting time, he spread her legs, fuck!! You are already wet, he said in a low voice.
I watched him pull out his penis and it was huge. He placed it into her vagina, I couldn't bring myself to watch it again, but all I could hear was the rhythm changing. The couch creaked faster, louder. Her breaths turned into high, pleading gasps. "Damon... please..."
"Please what?" His voice was dark, almost gentle. He'd only ever shown me ice.
"Don't stop."
He laughed, low. The sounds sped up frantic, desperate. Her cries broke, sharp and helpless, then tumbled into a long, shuddering moan.
Then nothing. Just their breathing, ragged, filling the hall.
I couldn't breathe. My hands shook.
After a while, I heard him again, his voice flat, almost bored. "Get dressed. Marco will drive you home."
"So soon?" Isabella, still breathless.
"I said now."
Footsteps. A door closed. Silence.
I stumbled back to bed, my heart banging in my chest. I felt sick. Humiliated. And God help me curious. Hot, ugly curiosity curling in my stomach.
Sleep wasn't happening. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting minutes until dawn.
At seven, a soft knock. Alessandra came in with breakfast. She wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Mr. Rossi wants you in the study at nine," she said, gentle as ever.
"Want?" My voice cracked.
She just gave me a sad little smile and left.
I showered and put on one of the plain dresses someone had left in the closet my size, bought for me, like everything else here. Ownership, right down to the hem. At nine, I went downstairs.
The study door was wide open. Damon sat behind his massive desk, typing. White shirt, sleeves rolled up. He looked relaxed. Rested. In control.
Not like me.
"Close the door," he said, eyes still on his laptop.
I did, but I stayed near it.
He finally looked up, scanning my face, then my hands were still shaking. "Sleep well?"
It landed like a slap.
"Why did you bring her here?" The words just spilled out.
He leaned back, calm as ever. "Because I wanted to."
"To hurt me."
He shrugged. "To remind you. This isn't a marriage. It's an arrangement. You'll see things. Hear things. You'll learn to keep your mouth shut."
Tears stung, but I blinked them away. "What do you want from me?"
"Obedience." He got up, circled the desk, and stood too close. I could smell his soap, his skin. "Nothing else. You're a decoration. A debt paid off. Don't expect my attention. Don't expect my touch."
"You think I want your touch?" I snapped, anger finally breaking through.
Something flickered in his eyes, maybe amusement. "Good. We understand each other."
He reached past me, his arm brushing my shoulder, and opened the door. That was it. Dismissed.
"Lucas Thorne called for you this morning," he said, just as I stepped out. I froze. "Your old college friend. He's here in town."
My heart jumped stupid hope. Lucas. Kind, gentle Lucas.
"I told him you weren't available," Damon added, his voice dropping into a warning. "Not ever. Don't contact him. If you do..." He let the threat hang.
He shut the door in my face.
I stood there, shaking. The sounds from last night wouldn't leave me, tangled up with the cold edge in his voice.
Then I heard his phone ringing inside. He answered, voice warm all of a sudden. "Vincenzo. What's wrong?"
Silence. Then his voice turned to ice.
"The warehouse on the docks. When?... How many men?"
Another pause.
"Tell Marco and Antonio. We are going tonight."
The call ended. I heard his fist hit the desk, hard.
I hurried away, mind racing. Warehouse. Men. Tonight.
Something was happening. Something dangerous.
And the man who owned me was walking right into it.
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8.6
Eight years ago, Rosalyn sold herself for money, and Nathan became her first and only client.
Now, with her wedding approaching, her own fiancé sent her back to the same man.
What should have been one more humiliating transaction dragged her into Nathan's dangerous orbit again-an orbit he had no intention of letting her escape.
As her fiancé cheated and schemed, Nathan crushed him in secret.
When rumors tore at her name, he spent freely to protect her.
But just when he reached for forever, Rosalyn walked away, leaving behind a truth written in blood, loss, and the child they never got to keep.
8.7
Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart.
The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself.
Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth.
"Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die."
The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone.
Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs.
Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive.
But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth.
In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying.
Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin.
Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon.
When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom.
"The game starts now," she said coldly.
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
8.3
Five years ago, Lyrix Thorne was publicly rejected by her fated mate and left to die beneath a full moon. Now she's a rogue leader with a ticking death sentence in her veins, hunted for her blood and hated by the Alpha who broke her. When war forces her back into Shadowfang territory, Lyrix comes face-to-face with Raven Blackwood-the ruthless Alpha who shattered her bond and the only wolf powerful enough to save her. He claims his rejection was a lie. A sacrifice. A choice that nearly destroyed him. Lyrix doesn't care. She survived without him, and she refuses to kneel now.
But fate doesn't loosen its grip. The rejection curse is killing her faster than anyone predicted, enemies are closing in, and the mate bond ignites with brutal intensity every time Raven gets too close. He wants redemption. She wants revenge. Between forced proximity, pack politics, and a prophecy written in blood and silver, Lyrix must decide whether love is worth risking her life again-or if letting the Alpha burn is the only way to finally be free.
7.6
"A monster like you could never be my Luna." Those words shatter Elara Voss on the night she finally shifts... into the forbidden Shadow Wolf.
Rejected by the Alpha King and cast out as a cursed monster, Elara flees into the rogue lands with nothing but humiliation burning in her chest.
But when Kairos Blackthorn comes hunting for her, he doesn't find the broken omega he rejected.
He finds a queen.
In a moment of fury, Elara does the impossible-she marks the Alpha King instead.
Now the bond is reversed.
The king who rejected her feels every ounce of her pain... her rage... and her growing power.
As war brews between brothers and ancient enemies rise from the shadows, Kairos must fight to win back the mate he destroyed before Elara's darkness consumes them all.
7.7
I spent two years trying to please Xander Yates, thinking he was the man who would help me save my family’s struggling manufacturing business. As a former senior legal counsel, I thought I knew how to handle sharks, but I never expected the man I loved to be the one who would try to skin me alive.
Everything shattered at a high-end gala when I felt a chemical fire start in my marrow. Xander had spiked my drink, chasing me through the hotel corridors with a predatory smile, ready to take by force what I wouldn't give him willingly.
I barely escaped into an elevator, stealing a key card from a man in a sharp grey suit and collapsing in room 8086. That stranger turned out to be Crockett Blackburn, the "Ice King of Wall Street" and a man my family had spent years avoiding. He didn't save me out of the goodness of his heart; he saved me because he saw a "messy variable" he could turn into a weapon. By morning, Xander was blackmailing me with a video of me drugged, and Crockett was offering me a deal that felt like a deal with the devil. He would save my factory, but only if I gave him 51% controlling interest and became his personal legal counsel.
The humiliation was total. Xander called me a junkie and a slut, while Crockett looked at the bruises on my neck with the cold, clinical assessment of a man checking a damaged piece of equipment. When a secret bid was leaked, Crockett didn't hesitate to pin the blame on me, accusing me of working with my ex to drive up the price.
I was a pawn in a game between two monsters, one who wanted to destroy my body and another who wanted to own my soul and my family’s legacy. I had lost my apartment, my reputation, and my safety in less than twenty-four hours.
"I don't like it when people break my things," Crockett told me as he applied ointment to the marks Xander left on my throat.
I realized then that if I wanted to survive, I had to stop being the victim and start being the predator. I signed the contract, moved into Blackburn’s penthouse, and prepared for a scorched-earth war against the Yates family. I don't care if Crockett Blackburn is using me as a leash—as long as he lets me be the one to bite.