The Price Of His Twisted Love

Eight years ago, my husband, Greyson, framed me for a car accident that cost me my legs, my parents, and my unborn child. He did it all to protect another woman, his political prodigy friend, Isla. He threw me in prison for three years, using my mother's fragile life as leverage to keep me silent and compliant. I was his puppet, a broken ballerina whose only escape was the phantom ache of a dance I could no longer perform. After I was released, broken and alone, he knelt before me on my comeback stage, confessing everything to a live audience. He admitted he faked the explicit photos that ruined my name and that Isla was the one who hit me with her car. He said he did it all for love, a twisted, possessive love that destroyed everything it touched. But his confession had a price. He had already killed Isla. And as he was sentenced to death, he had one last request: to see me.

Chapters

Chapter 4

Elenora Quinn POV:

"When did Isla Whitehead come back?" Kailey asked, her voice laced with a venom I rarely heard. Her eyes hardened, a dangerous glint in their depths.

Isla. The name tasted like bile. But even thinking about her, a strange emptiness settled in my chest. The kind of numb exhaustion that comes from being hurt too many times.

I managed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "She returned on May 15th, eight years ago. The day it all started to unravel."

May 15th. Our anniversary. The day we were supposed to celebrate our love, the day I eagerly awaited his return. Instead, I had waited alone, a bottle of champagne chilling, a special dinner prepared.

My phone had buzzed, pulling me from my anticipation. His name flashed on the screen. My heart had fluttered, a nervous bird in my ribs.

"Elenora," his voice had been strained, hurried. "I need your help. It's Isla. She's in trouble. Big trouble."

Isla. His childhood friend. The political prodigy, always poised for greatness. I knew he was fiercely protective of her. He always had been. Their bond was deep, complicated, almost primal. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, even then. She was always under pressure, always scrutinized.

"What kind of trouble?" I had asked, my concern genuine.

"I can't explain now," he'd rushed. "But I need your personal photos. Your selfies. As many as you can send. Quickly, Elenora. It's urgent."

I hadn't hesitated. My trust in him was absolute. He was my husband, my protector. He would never ask for anything that wasn't for my good. I had pulled up my photo gallery, sending him dozens of pictures: candid shots, playful poses, even a few intimate ones I thought only he would ever see. Each one a piece of my trust, my vulnerability.

The next morning, the city exploded. My face, my body, superimposed onto explicit, degrading images, plastered across every screen, every tabloid. It was a grotesque parody of my life. And some of those images, I recognized them. They were my selfies. The ones I had sent him, just hours before. The ones he had twisted and perverted.

The scandal was immediate, brutal. Elenora Quinn, the ballerina darling, the tech heiress, was now a public spectacle, a whore, a disgrace. The city, my city, the city where my family's name was synonymous with innovation and integrity, was buzzing with my shame.

The photos spread like wildfire. Faster than any virus. I huddled in my bed, the world outside a raging inferno. My phone, usually a lifeline, became a symbol of terror. It buzzed non-stop, but not with messages of support. Only condemnation, disgust, and cruel mockery.

I called Greyson. Again and again. My fingers, numb with fear, dialed his number until they ached. No answer. Each unanswered ring was a fresh stab in my gut. He always picked up. Always. Instantly. What was happening? Where was he?

The silence from his end of the line was deafening. It screamed betrayal louder than any accusation.

Continue to next part

Alpha Lykos lives with a deadly curse: any woman who touches him dies on the spot. His pack fears him, and he has given up hope of ever finding a mate. Until a weak, fragile girl named Aria stumbles into his territory and touches him... and nothing happens. She is his mate- but she is not meant to live. Aria's life belongs to someone else, borrowed by an ancient spell. If the spell breaks, she dies. If the curse stays, she also dies. And an enemy pack wants her because she is the key to awakening an ancient power. Alpha Lykos must protect her, break the curse, and fight fate itself-before time runs out. But the greatest danger is not the enemies hunting them... It is the truth Aria doesn't know about herself.

Action Fantasy Werewolf

9.6

His Promise, My Shattered World

9.6

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

Action Modern Romance

7.2

Just A Vessel: The Surrogate's Escape

7.2

I went to the bank to set up a trust fund for my twins, only to have the manager look at me with pity. "Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the *biological* mother's signature." I froze. I *was* their mother. Or so I thought. That day, I learned my husband, the most powerful Mafia Don on the coast, had used his ex-lover’s frozen eggs. For six years, I wasn't his wife. I was just the incubator. When his "true love," Iliana, returned from exile, my life disintegrated. My children, poisoned by her lies, pushed me down the stairs and called me "just the nanny." Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to take his "real family" out for ice cream. But the ultimate betrayal happened on a windswept cliff. Staged by Iliana, we were both tied up, allegedly rigged to explode. Forced to choose who to save, Gavyn didn't hesitate. He cut Iliana loose. "You did this to yourself, Alex," he said, driving away with the children, leaving me to die. He thought he was leaving behind a corpse. He didn't know I had skimmed ten million dollars from the household accounts. "Cut me loose," I told the hitman, transferring the money. "And tell him the ocean took me." Two years later, the Don is on his knees in my garden, begging for a second chance. Too bad he has to get through my new fiancé first—the head of the rival cartel.

Action Mafia Romance

8.3

Revenge Is A Daughter's Sweetest Dish

8.3

The first time I died, it was from a cancer my mother couldn' t afford. My father, who had left us for his wealthy mistress, refused to pay for my treatment. In a desperate attempt to save me, my mother tried to sell her kidney on the black market. She was scammed and left to die in an alley. She died of an infection a week before I finally succumbed to the cancer, alone in a hospital bed. I' ll never forget him telling my begging mother that his new family had expenses, handing her a few hundred dollars as if she were trash. Then, I opened my eyes. I was fourteen again, healthy, watching the divorce happen all over again. My father looked at me, expecting me to choose my mother. "Blake," he said, "you' ll have to choose who you want to live with." I remembered the hunger, the cold, and my mother' s broken body. I met her tear-filled eyes, my own heart shattering. "I choose Dad."

Action Modern Mystery

8.4

Rising From Ashes: The Architect's Comeback

8.4

I woke up in a sterile hospital room with no memory of the lethal-looking man pacing outside the glass. My friend told me he was Dante Moretti, the Underboss of Chicago, and the fiancé I had supposedly worshipped for seven years. But the truth shattered me faster than the crash did. When our convoy was ambushed and the car caught fire, Dante didn't pull me out. He chose to save Valeria—the widow of a soldier he felt guilty about—leaving me to burn in the backseat. He called it a "tactical decision." I called it a death sentence. I thought losing my memory was a curse, but it was a gift. It stripped away the delusion of love. I saw a man who treated me like a useful piece of furniture. I saw a rival in Valeria who smirked while taking my job and my place. When she set a room on fire to frame me, Dante saved her again, leaving me to choke on the smoke. He even branded me a thief in front of the entire Commission to protect her lies. He thought I would always be there, the obedient statue waiting for his scraps. He was wrong. I fled to New York and walked straight into the arms of his sworn enemy, Enzo Falcone. A man who didn't just promise to protect me, but walked through fire to do it. Months later, when Dante finally realized the truth and crawled back to me in the rain, begging for a second chance, I looked him dead in the eye. "Forgetting you was the only peace I ever knew." I took Enzo’s hand, letting Dante see exactly what he had lost. "Remembering you just confirmed that you are a mistake I will never make again."

Action Modern Romance

8.3

Shattered Dreams, Lingering Years

8.3

On the day Brett Graham threw his big victory celebration, he held my hand and told everyone I was his destiny. Even though we were already divorced. He declared to the whole room that he didn't regret his life-or-death decision, especially since his wife had been among the captives. Too bad the truth was, on that battlefield, the person he was trying to save wasn't me. It was his mistress. Just as Brett thought his bright future was finally within reach, the name on the military commendation medal turned out to be mine. Looking down at Brett from the stage, I spoke frankly to the cameras. "I believe if a peacekeeping soldier, during a hostage exchange with the enemy, only cares about the safety of his lover, it's a true disgrace to the profession."

Action Modern Romance

The Price Of His Twisted Love

Chapter 4

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