David Chase On Sopranos Ending Dramas & Movies

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Three months after my divorce, I agreed to take my stepdaughter to college. But on the train, she slipped her hand under my blanket.A three-day-and-two-night journey on the California Zephyr, from Chicago to San Francisco.Derek’s plan: Finish this trip, then walk away from them forever.Scarlett’s plan: Use these three days to win him back.Chloe’s plan: She’s waited six long years, until she finally turned eighteen.But plans are always meant to be disrupted.Caught between his ex-wife and his stepdaughter, what choice will Derek make?

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"I loved Dante Rossi for twenty years. I gave up my medical career, my dreams, and my dignity for him. On the eve of our wedding, I discovered he had gotten another woman pregnant — his childhood companion, Isobel. So on what should have been the happiest day of my life, I canceled the wedding, burned every photo and letter, and disappeared without a trace, leaving only one sentence on our calendar: “Let’s break up, Dante.” Two years later, I returned as a successful medical researcher, engaged to a man who truly loves me. But Dante finally learned the truth — I was the one who took a bullet for him five years ago, not Isobel. Now the once-arrogant heir of the arms empire has lost everything. He kneels before me, regrets eating him alive, and begs for another chance. He even blocked a knife meant for me with his own body. But it’s too late."

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Pressured by her family to marry, Faith Miller impulsively marries a beggar in a flash decision. Unbeknownst to her, her new husband is Rocco Fitch, the CEO of the Fitch Group, who lost his memory in a plane crash. As Faith cares for him, Rocco’s memories slowly return, and the mysteries surrounding the crash unravel.

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“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

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A night security job at a museum seems like the easiest money Jorden Leon has ever made. But on his very first shift, he discovers that the museum's relics are anything but ordinary. Driven by instinct, he restores a shattered Eight-Armed Asura bronze statue. As the final crack disappears, an ancient force surges into him, awakening powers beyond imagination. Unaware that he has just prevented an S-Class catastrophe capable of destroying the city, Jordan steps into a new destiny. Soon, whispers spread through the city of a mysterious guardian who protects the living from dangers buried deep in the past.

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On their third anniversary, Finley had all their friends over to celebrate. Claire walked in to find him on one knee, proposing to his childhood friend, Renee. "What is going on?" she asked. He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's just a game of truth or dare." But it wasn't until he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry, that she finally woke up. She'd given him five chances. Now? She was done. "Finley, it's over. Let's get divorced."

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At a remote psychiatric hospital, the most dangerous patient, Chaim Potter, passes his 144th evaluation and is released. What no one knows is that he’s never recovered—he still sees visions of his murdered fiancee, Keira Kennedy, sometimes as an angel, sometimes as a demon, urging him to take revenge. Four years ago, on the day he’d planned to propose,Keira was brutally assaulted and killed. He arrived just in time to see four perpetrators laughing as they walked away. Now free, with his loyal butler Devon Walsh having prepared everything, Chaim targets the wedding of Walter Hart and Zoie Mckay. He brutally attacks Felix Lindsey, one of the groomsmen and perpetrators, and has him dropped onto the wedding venue as his body rains down with funeral money printed with details of Keira’s death. Walter, Zoie, and bridesmaid Anna Pearson immediately realize: a calculated revenge has begun.

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Sherlyn is a traditional medicine prodigy who spent years raising her son alone, coming down the mountain with nothing but her child and her medicine kit and asking no one for anything. Then she walks straight into Lucas Taylor, her son's father and the head of one of the most powerful families in the city. A rare hereditary condition surfaces, tangled identities unravel, and rival healers with hidden agendas start circling. Through every scheme and confrontation, Sherlyn fights back on her own terms, with her son beside her and her instincts sharper than any prescription. Three lifetimes of unfinished feeling, it turns out, have a way of finishing themselves.

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In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.