The Unwanted Heiress
"No." The words leave my lips before I can control them, and as a result, fear floods my entire body as I stare face-to-face with the man that my parents have sold me off to.
"No?" His deep voice hums in his chest, sending a series of chills running across my skin. My bottom lip quivers in fear, but I quickly bite it in an attempt to maintain some sort of control over my body. I can't let him see how terrified I am of him, how my body trembles in terror as he remains across from me.
Dante moves dangerously close to me, his frame towering over me and making me feel almost insignificant in my own skin. His cold, icy gaze meets mine, those soulless blue orbs searing into my green ones. I am paralysed, with no control over my own limbs. I should move, turn around and run while I still have a chance. But where would I even go? I'm in his house now, and there's nowhere I would feel safe anymore...
Before I realise what's happening, his grip is around my throat, his fingers pressing against my skin. My back slams against the wall, and a frightened gasp leaves my lips, just as I look up at the person who has easily overpowered me. He remains silent as he looks down at me, his face inches apart from mine as panicked breaths leave my lips. Suddenly, the fear turns into something else as I realise how his body is pressed against me, how the only space between is the one between our faces...
"Let's get something straight, dollface." He says lowly, his voice sending my heart racing as he keeps himself only inches from my face, my lips.
"You're mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it."
. . . . .
Viviana Costanzo. Heiress of the Constanzo family and daughter of Don Ettore Constanzo. Born into power. Raised in silence to be lethal, perfect... only to be sold like a pawn.
Viviana has spent her life as the unwanted daughter. Ignored by her father, despised by her stepmother, and overshadowed by her younger half-brother. When the time comes for her to receive her birthright, her father announces he has other plans... Instead, the title of future Don of the Costanzo family is handed to her younger brother. But it doesn't end there. She is stripped of her name, her wealth, and her future by her so-called parents and sold into marriage to a rival family. But not just to any family... not just to any man...
It is none other than Dante Accardi, Don of the ruthless Accardi crime syndicate.
He is ice cold and filled with venom. Those who work under him fear him, just like all who cross his path. He is a man used to getting what he wants, and unfortunately, Viviana is one of them.
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Chapter 2
V I V I A N A
"The announcement will happen this evening, and I need you to be ready."
My heart rate picks up as I process his words. It's all going to happen tonight. The day I've been preparing for all my life, is finally here.
I remain silent for a second, glancing down at the ground for a second, a small smile appearing on my lips briefly, right before it disappears.
"Are you sure, Dad? I mean, I always thought you'd remain the Don for a few more years." I shake my head at him. My father may be cold and ruthless, but he is good and what he does. A successful businessman who has amassed an insane amount of wealth. He knows how to remain one of the top names in the game, so without him, I'm not sure I'll be able to live up to everything his accomplished.
"Yes. I'm sure, and I've already made up my mind." He answers me, and I sigh before nodding my head at him.
"I'll be ready, Dad," I answer him, my heart rate spiking with anticipation. This could finally be my chance to change things around here, to change the way people look at me. As the Donna, they would have no choice but to respect me, and I can finally be treated with decency.
Not only that, but maybe I won't have to suffer at the hands of my stepmother either. It's a chance for freedom, and I'm more than ready to take it.
Though the news is a relief, I notice that my father hasn't even bothered to look me in the eye the entire time he's been talking to me. In fact, there is a coldness around him, colder than usual, and a dissatisfaction on his face that is too distinct to ignore. It makes me wonder what's on his mind, but I don't bother to question it... the last thing I need is upsetting him in any way.
"We begin at 6 PM. Do not be late." Is all he says to me, and finally, his eyes meet mine. He stares at me for a moment before exhaling deeply and walking right past me without another word. I am left stunned as I watch him walk away, having expected him to at least give me some sort of word of encouragement, some advice, or maybe even to let me know that he's proud of me... but I expected too much of him.
It leaves a hole in my heart, but I don't let it get to me. I remain standing in the same spot, taking a deep breath to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for what is to come. Even if he hasn't given me any words of encouragement, it doesn't take away from the fact that he is entrusting me with the future of this family. And maybe finally, he will be able to see how worthy and deserving I am to have the Costanzo name.
. . .
The rest of the day goes by quickly, and by the time I realise it, it's 5:30 PM, 30 minutes to the announcement. I am in my room, finishing up with the last of my look as my stylists buzz around me, ensuring I look perfect for the role. Once they are done and leave me to my lonesome, I step back and take a long look in the mirror, admiring how lovely I look. I am dressed in a long mermaid black dress with a slight stopping just at my knee, the dress being one that accentuates each and every curve. My wavy hair is big and bouncy, falling over my shoulders and stopping just above my lower back. My makeup is bold and sultry, a smoky eye and a red lip, while for jewellery I have on silver and diamonds, a favourite of mine.
"It all begins here," I say out loud as I let out a deep breath, continuing to mentally prepare myself to walk out that door. After tonight, all I know is that things are never going to be the same again.
After grabbing my purse and spraying on some Gucci perfume, I finally make my way downstairs, following the soft sound of jazz music that now echoes through the mansion.
I find myself in the ballroom, where multiple people are stationed, all people I'm familiar with; members of the family. As soon as I walk in, all the attention turns to me, and it's as if the room goes silent despite the music still playing. They are in awe, and they fail to hide it. It gives me a bit of a confidence boost as I stride forward, being sure to keep my head held high. Most people simply stare at me, some giving me a small nod of acknowledgement, others not bothering to say a word.
One thing I hated about living here is how
Isolated I was, my father somehow made sure of that. I had no real friends my age, no one I could count on, and I hated it. But as quickly as those thoughts come, I shake them away. I can't afford to think about how alone I've been, not now.
I glance around the room and soon take notice of Lucia and my brother Victor standing together. I find them already staring at me, nothing but distaste on their faces. And so, I decide to approach them.
"Mother, Victor." I greet them as soon as I reach them. Lucia immediately gives me a fake smile, and she steps closer to me.
"Viviana darling. You look... decent." She tells me, and I can still feel the venom slipping through her voice."
"So do you," I answer her with a smile and immediately watch as the smile disappears from her face completely, and she immediately gives me a look of pure rage.
"Hm." Is all she lets out before she turns on her heel on walks away, not bothering to give me a response. I remain with my brother and eye him from head to toe, being exactly his height as I eye him from head to toe.
"You seem excited, sister," he says smoothly, his chin tilted upward. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, his posture the very image of a princeling rehearsed for his crown. "I wouldn't get ahead of myself if I were you." I narrow my eyes, letting silence answer him. He wants me to rise to the bait, to reveal just how desperately I've been waiting for this night. But I won't give him that. Not yet.
The air shifts then, and I know almost immediately that my father has just entered the room.
The hum of conversation falters, then dies completely. Soldiers, capos, lieutenants, they all straighten, their heads turning in unison as Ettore Costanzo strides into the hall. He is dressed in black, a silver pin gleaming on his lapel, his presence filling the cavernous room in a way no decoration ever could.
I feel my chest tighten as I watch him. For as long as I can remember, he has been untouchable, a fortress of discipline and fear. And tonight, he is more than that... tonight, he is the arbiter of destiny. My destiny.
I hold my hands together behind me to steady them, nails biting into my palms.
He makes his way to the centre of the room, and once he is there, the music in the room stops immediately; every single person now focuses their attention on him.
"Good evening, everyone. It is my honour to welcome you all tonight," my father declares, his voice resonant, echoing against the marble and chandeliers. "This shall be a momentous occasion. A night to remember."
No one breathes.
"Tonight, I shall be officially stepping down as Don of this family," he continues, "and appointing the next leader of this syndicate."
A rustle of murmurs runs through the crowd, quickly smothered. I stand taller, my pulse drumming. This is it. This is the moment.
"I cannot think of anyone more deserving," my father says, and his gaze sweeps across the room. My heart stutters. For the briefest second, it feels like his eyes catch mine, lingering and acknowledging. "Anyone more worthy. And I know the future of the Costanzo family will be safe in their hands."
My breath catches. My chest expands, air pressing hard against my ribs. It's happening. He's going to say my name. Finally.
"It is with great pleasure," he says, his tone ceremonial, heavy with finality, "that I announce the one who will usher us into a new era of power and prosperity."
I take a short step forward. My lungs burn as I drag in a deep breath, preparing myself, ready to meet the weight of the room, ready to claim what is mine-...
"My son, Victor Costanzo," my father pronounces, his voice like a thunderclap in the room, "as my successor, and new Don of the Costanzo famiglia."
The world slows down, and becomes still.
For a moment, I don't hear the cheers that erupt around me, or see Victor straighten with smug pride, his chest swelling as he accepts the crown I had been sharpening myself for my entire life. I don't even notice the satisfied gleam in Lucia's eyes.
All I hear is the sound of something tearing inside me...
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9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.
7.9
Valerie Ashford, a girl who had just turned twenty-one, was introduced by her father to his business associates at a grand party, where she met a frightening, cold-blooded man.
That man was none other than her father's business partner, the CEO of a major corporation. He was taken with Valerie and had wanted her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.
For Rovano Morvane, whatever he desired was absolute and he had to have it, even by the worst means possible.
That night Valerie vanished without a trace and Rovano became the prime suspect, yet the Ashford family could not prove their allegations.
"P-please, I don't want to die, sir..." Valerie whispered so softly that Rovano had to bend down even lower.
"Didn't you just say you didn't care whether you were kidnapped or not? So shut your mouth." Rovano ordered.
Cold, Valerie felt the other side of the folding knife pressed against her cheek.
Rovano was going to mark Valerie.
It felt like something was missing if Rovano didn't take out his psychopathic urges on someone.
And this time, for the first time, he wanted a girl: Valerie Ashford.
Would Valerie's life end here?
9.0
Framed for corporate spying, Liana Bennett was arrested and murdered in a prison cell.
Now she wakes in her old life, exactly one month before the set up.
She has one month to identify the traitor inside her company who orchestrated her death before they do it again. The enemy is already watching, already moving.
Every change she makes to rewrite comes at a price: a core memory erased. One wrong step, and she loses the very truth she needs to survive.
Then there's Raphael Blackthorne, The ruthless CEO of her rival company, the man she spent a reckless night with, and now the person offering her flowers, dinners, and sincerity.
Liana has a plan.
She can't afford the distraction.
But as her memories unravel and the enemy closes in, she faces the truth she can't outrun: to survive, she may have to become someone who no longer remembers why she fought at all.
9.5
Eda Roman clutched her father's diagnostic report, its sharp edge cutting her finger. His cancer had mutated, standard treatment failed, and a fifty thousand dollar deposit for experimental therapy was due by midnight. Fail to pay, and his hospital bed would be cleared.
Wife to Axel Foley, a multi-billion dollar CEO, Eda faced an impossible chasm. Her family trust, controlled by Keri Lane, offered a meager three hundred dollars.
An emergency fund request met a forty-eight-hour review—a death sentence. Keri's assistant denied expedite and blocked calls. Desperate, Eda called Axel, but his assistant dismissed her with lies, Axel's laughter echoing.
Humiliation and betrayal ignited cold fury. Wife to Seattle's wealthiest, yet begging on a hospital floor? Axel's indifference and Keri's games showed her: her father's life couldn't be left in their hands.
Wiping tears, the pleading girl vanished; her survival instinct roared. Red lipstick her war paint, Eda Roman marched to Foley Group Headquarters, ready to reclaim what was hers.
7.6
Overnight, Ella lost her family, her home, and her entire life. Discarded by the foster system, she was left shivering in the freezing mud outside her ruined estate.
That was when Javier Shepherd appeared. The terrifyingly cold, powerful billionaire pulled her from the dirt, threw her into a massive glass penthouse, handed her an unlimited black card, and vanished overseas, leaving her in the hands of a cruel caretaker.
The caretaker treated Ella like garbage, feeding her cheap, processed meals while using the black card to buy designer bags. The toxic food triggered a severe allergic reaction. Ella collapsed in the dark hallway, her throat swelling shut, gasping for air while the caretaker locked the door and turned up the TV. She almost died on that cold hardwood floor.
When Javier found out, he ruthlessly destroyed the caretaker and sent her to prison. He guarded Ella's hospital bed with terrifying intensity and even moved into her apartment to stop her panic attacks. Yet, when Ella finally broke down crying over her dead parents, his eyes turned to ice.
"Losing emotional control over a juvenile past is an inefficient waste of energy."
He sneered, treating her grief like a bad financial investment. Ella was completely bewildered. Why did this dangerous man protect her so fiercely, yet hate her past so deeply?
It wasn't until his cousin visited the hospital that the cruel truth was revealed. Javier wasn't saving her out of kindness. He had been obsessed with Ella's mother—his family's adopted daughter who ran away years ago. To him, Ella wasn't a person to be loved. She was just a replacement asset, a ghost of the woman he never got over.
8.6
I married Damien Pierce for love.
I divorced him for my sanity.
He was a billionaire heir with ice in his veins and obsession in his heart. I was the waitress who accidentally spilled coffee on his suit and somehow ended up in his penthouse, in his bed, in his world. For two years, I was his wife-and his prisoner.
He didn't hit me. He didn't have to.
He simply watched. Every move I made. Every friend I spoke to. Every breath I took outside his permission was met with silence so cold it burned. When I finally found the courage to leave, I left everything behind. The money. The name. Even my dignity.
I told myself I'd rather be alone forever than belong to Damien Pierce for one more day.
That was three years ago.
Now, I'm standing in my mother's living room, champagne in hand, smiling at her new fiancé-a kind, gentle widower who looks at her like she hung the moon.
Then the front door opens.
And Damien walks in.
Because the kind, gentle widower? Is his father.
My ex-husband is about to become my stepbrother.
The first words out of his mouth, in front of our beaming parents, are not hello.
They are: "Did you really think divorce papers would make me stop owning you, Ayra?"
Now we share holidays. We share family dinners. We share a hallway in our parents' mansion.
And Damien Pierce has made one thing very clear:
He doesn't want to be my ex-husband.
He doesn't want to be my stepbrother.
He wants to be my sin.