a touch of frost season 3

Serena Rivers spends three years in prison for a crime she didn't commit and uses every single day of it. She trains under four of the most formidable masters the underworld has ever produced and walks out as something entirely different from the woman who walked in. On her first day of freedom she corners the cold prison warden Xavier Stone against the water dungeon wall and kisses him without apology. He is her insurance policy and she knows it. Outside, the fake heiress has stolen her shares, her younger brother demands she kneel, and her former fiance has already moved on with a new bride. She tears up the rejection notice on the spot. Moments later, the Stone family motorcade arrives, the warden reveals himself as the family patriarch, and he shows up with a hundred billion in betrothal gifts and absolutely no intention of letting anyone touch her again. Together, they dismantle every person who had a hand in her three lost years.

Serena Rivers spends three years in prison for a crime she didn't commit and uses every single day of it. She trains under four of the most formidable masters the underworld has ever produced and walks out as something entirely different from the woman who walked in. On her first day of freedom she corners the cold prison warden Xavier Stone against the water dungeon wall and kisses him without apology. He is her insurance policy and she knows it.Outside, the fake heiress has stolen her shares, her younger brother demands she kneel, and her former fiance has already moved on with a new bride. She tears up the rejection notice on the spot. Moments later, the Stone family motorcade arrives, the warden reveals himself as the family patriarch, and he shows up with a hundred billion in betrothal gifts and absolutely no intention of letting anyone touch her again. Together, they dismantle every person who had a hand in her three lost years.

Helen Carter is the daughter of the Cockfighting Sage, the man who mastered cockfighting not to profit from it but to fight gambling itself into submission. He raised her with one absolute rule: never touch the roosters. Then, he was murdered by his own disciple Sean Holt, a man who chose greed over everything he was taught, and ten-year-old Helen barely escaped with her life on the breath her dying father bought her.Years later, her husband's gambling debts drag her back to the one world she swore never to enter. Helen steps back into the ring quietly and dismantles every opponent in her path, one bout at a time, until she is standing across from Sean himself. The final fight isn't just about the debt. It is about her father, about justice, and about burying the man who buried him. She wins, exposes everything, and walks her husband out of the gambling halls with the only wisdom her father ever needed anyone to hear: the longer you play, the more you lose. Not getting into it at all is the only way to win.

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

I’ve always felt like Travis Chancer was forced to marry me. Every time we were intimate at night, he’d rather use his hand to get me off than actually have sex with me. I got more and more disappointed and decided to divorce him. But the night before I printed the papers, I heard him on the balcony talking to his buddies. “Bro, I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’re obviously dying for it. Why won’t you touch her? The perfect woman is right there. It must feel amazing.” “Women can’t stand being ignored. If you keep bottling it up, she’ll eventually run off with another man, and you’ll regret it.” He took a quiet sip of whiskey. “But her skin is so delicate, and her waist is so slim… she’s so sensitive. What if I lose control and scare her? “She’s my woman. I have to be careful. If she wants to find comfort elsewhere, she can. As long as she’s still willing to come home, I’ll keep spoiling her.” They snorted. “Don’t act like a saint, man. If you’ve got the guts, stop secretly posting on Reddit.” Late that night, I quietly opened Travis’s browser history. A full hundred entries. The pinned post read: “I finally married the girl I’ve loved for years, but I have a very high sex drive. How can I make her enjoy it without leaving psychological scars?”…

In the Corvona underworld, there is one unspoken rule. When a Don keeps a new woman by his side for three consecutive months, the Donna must personally remove the signet ring symbolizing her power and place it on the new woman's finger before the entire family. When my husband, Luca, the Don of the Bellini family, announced he would take Mia alone on a three-month business trip, the entire Corvona underworld waited for me to have a meltdown. I had been with Luca Bellini for seven years. I followed him everywhere, refusing to leave his side. I would even wake up in the middle of the night to touch him, needing to know he was there to feel secure. They were all aware of my clinginess and were betting I would never let go. But when Mia extended her hand to me, her voice dripping with saccharine, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly removed the signet ring engraved with the family crest and slid it onto her ring finger. Luca, lounging in the leather chair at the head of the table, swirled the whiskey in his glass, satisfaction gleaming in his cold blue eyes. "Elara, you've finally learned your place." I lowered my gaze to my bare finger, saying nothing in return. What Luca didn't know was that a month ago, I had recovered all seven years of my lost memories. I wasn't some street orphan at all, but the long-lost Principessa of the Rossi family, the most powerful of the Old World families. In three days, my brother's armed convoy would roll into Corvona to take me home.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.