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On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

Within the halls of Golden Feather Academy, wealthy stepsiblings Tanya and Leo, bound by family but not blood, hold court as the institution's dual reigning icons of popularity. As the holiday break ends, the queenly Tanya sets her sights on the newly elected Student Council President, Logic—son of the nation's president. At the grand ball, her calculated allure meets only his icy dismissal. Stung and pride inflamed, she makes a reckless wager with her notorious playboy stepbrother, Leo, who has just slipped into her bedchamber under cover of night: if Leo can seduce and shatter the seemingly incorruptible, iron-willed heterosexual scholar Logic within one month—turning his arrogance to ashes and his reputation to ruin—she will grant him the one thing he's craved for years: a night in her bed. The libertine Leo, who believes his charm can conquer anyone except the elusive Tanya, acknowledges the formidable challenge of making Logic fall in love. Yet, brimming with audacious confidence, he accepts, plunging them all into a twisted game of seduction and vengeance. However, as the month draws to a close, a chilling realization dawns on Tanya: not only has she been denied the sweet venom of revenge against Logic, but she may have irrevocably lost the mercurial, ever-devoted Leo—the brother whose affections she'd always held in a delicate, dangerous dance of veiled dominance—to the very heart he was supposed to destroy.

Within the halls of Golden Feather Academy, wealthy stepsiblings Tanya and Leo, bound by family but not blood, hold court as the institution's dual reigning icons of popularity. As the holiday break ends, the queenly Tanya sets her sights on the newly elected Student Council President, Logic—son of the nation's president. At the grand ball, her calculated allure meets only his icy dismissal. Stung and pride inflamed, she makes a reckless wager with her notorious playboy stepbrother, Leo, who has just slipped into her bedchamber under cover of night: if Leo can seduce and shatter the seemingly incorruptible, iron-willed heterosexual scholar Logic within one month—turning his arrogance to ashes and his reputation to ruin—she will grant him the one thing he's craved for years: a night in her bed. The libertine Leo, who believes his charm can conquer anyone except the elusive Tanya, acknowledges the formidable challenge of making Logic fall in love. Yet, brimming with audacious confidence, he accepts, plunging them all into a twisted game of seduction and vengeance. However, as the month draws to a close, a chilling realization dawns on Tanya: not only has she been denied the sweet venom of revenge against Logic, but she may have irrevocably lost the mercurial, ever-devoted Leo—the brother whose affections she'd always held in a delicate, dangerous dance of veiled dominance—to the very heart he was supposed to destroy.

Three days before my marking ceremony, someone set fire to the bridal shop while I was inside trying on my ceremonial dress. Alpha Marcus threw the arsonist into the pack prison, sentencing them to the harshest punishment our laws allowed. I lay in the hospital bed, my body covered in third-degree burns, refusing to wake fully as the reality of my disfigurement sank in. In my semi-conscious state, I heard Marcus speaking with the pack's healing witch. "Alpha, we can still heal her completely with the ancient magic. If we wait any longer, Sarah will bear these scars for life! You just want Miss Rachel to be your Luna at the marking ceremony. This is cruel beyond measure!" "Let her keep the scars. I'll provide for her for the rest of her life, but if she's healed, she'll definitely cause trouble at the marking ceremony." "I promised Rachel that her pup would be welcomed into the pack with full honors. Only when Sarah is completely disfigured will she be grateful enough to raise Rachel's child as her own. The scars are necessary - at least this way, she won't dare mistreat the pup." In the corner of the room, where no one was watching, a tear slid down my burned cheek. So this was the truth. The marking ceremony I'd dreamed of was nothing but a lie. The mate bond I longed for would be my death sentence. If that's how it had to be, I would give him what he wanted.

After my fiance’s childhood friend found out I was born with a heart condition, she secretly poured a high-dose energy drink into my champagne. The moment I drank it, my heart started racing, and stabbing pain spread through my chest. In a panic, I tore open my only emergency medication, but the water I used to take it had been swapped with strong lemon water. As soon as I drank it, my face went pale. I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground. “Lemon water’s full of vitamin C. It helps with hangovers and keeps you healthy.” Charlotte Whitmore laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. With her arms crossed, she looked at my fiance, Ethan Cross, the boss of the Rolling Stones. “Ethan, your fiancee’s acting is incredible! “I’ve been a doctor for years, and I’ve never seen anyone react like this to a little champagne and lemon water.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The pain made my eyes sting, and I clutched Ethan’s leg. “Honey, please, call an ambulance! I can’t take it anymore…” For a moment, his expression wavered, but the guests quickly cut in. “Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of champagne and lemon water.” “Yeah, you’re just jealous Charlotte got promoted and didn’t want to toast to her.” Ethan’s face turned cold again. He yanked my hand off and stepped away. “Charlotte’s a doctor. You’ll be fine with her here.” I stopped begging and texted my father asking for help

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.