

Leonardo's adoptive sister pulled off a new trick, and this time, it was threatening to slit her wrists. So, like second nature, he handed me the divorce papers. I didn't even read it and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Leonardo, this is the eighth time. In the entire history of Siciliana, no mafia Don has ever abandoned his partner as frequently as you." He yanked at his tie in frustration, a pleading look surfacing in his eyes. "Bianca, I have to do this. You know Gia's mental state. I can't just leave her to fend for herself, can I? "Move out for a few days first. Don't worry. Once I calm her down, I promise we'll get remarried right away!" I signed in silence. He had already repeated those exact words to me eight times. We finalized the paperwork in family lawyer's office. Pushing up his glasses, the family lawyer, Luca, teased lightly, "When are you guys coming back to sign the ninth marriage contract?" I put away the divorce papers stamped with the Corleone family wax seal and shook my head. "There won't be a next time."

Seven years ago, my dad used me to pay off his gambling debt. Vincenzo, New York’s most feared mafia boss, got me out of that casino and helped me become a Hollywood star. I thought I meant something to him. Then, on my birthday, I heard him tell his right-hand man, “I’ll sleep with her, sure. Marry her? No way.” So I sold the jewelry he gave me, quit acting, and moved to Paris to study art. I could finally live the life I wanted. But Vincenzo showed up. He’d called off his engagement, and he wanted me to come back...

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

Max Lowe spends a year abroad for work. When he returns, he discovers that his wife, Yara Smith, has appointed her childhood friend, Cody Muhl, as a director. When Max tries to fire Cody, Yara and the top management all threaten to quit. Only then does Max realize that he has been reduced to a mere figurehead. Not one to give in easily, Max retaliates with full force. He sends both Yara and Cody to prison. With that behind him, Max begins a new, happy life with Hannah Bell.

Max Lowe spends a year abroad for work. When he returns, he discovers that his wife, Yara Smith, has appointed her childhood friend, Cody Muhl, as a director. When Max tries to fire Cody, Yara and the top management all threaten to quit. Only then does Max realize that he has been reduced to a mere figurehead. Not one to give in easily, Max retaliates with full force. He sends both Yara and Cody to prison. With that behind him, Max begins a new, happy life with Hannah Bell.

Sam Lloyd, heir of the Lloyd family, is forced by his grandfather to honor a childhood engagement with Kate Clark, CEO of Clark Corp. He joins her company for six months, quietly helping her rise to become Havora’s new business queen. Yet she meets him with cold disdain. Heartbroken, he leaves and ends the engagement. After his departure, Clark Corp declines sharply, and Kate is left drowning in regret—only realizing too late who truly built her empire.

Yara's husband had an affair. Before getting divorced, she wanted to take revenge. A strange but powerful CEO happened to call her to meet him in a hotel. She agreed, but only to find that she should not have gotten involved with this man. Originally thinking it was just a fleeting indulgence, she didn't expect that the man would cling to her instead, forcing her to indulge night after night...

Ray, a former FBI ace agent, chose to live incognito as a low-level mechanic just to return to his family. On the eve of the zombie apocalypse, he is brutally betrayed by his manipulative, social-climbing wife and humiliated by a Wall Street elite who strips him of his fortune. With a cold sneer, Ray signs the papers and retreats with his adopted daughter into a subterranean, nuclear-grade fortified bunker—a stronghold that drained his entire life savings.

Escaping from a pervert trying to buy her virginity, Julia kisses a stranger—Stephen, a billionaire who’s allergic to women. Years after their one-night stand, Julia returns with his child. But what she doesn’t know is that Stephen has been searching for them all along: the only woman he isn’t allergic to...and his child.

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.