

Underworld queen Cecilia quits the game to be a housewife for her wife-crazed husband until his manipulative ex-girlfriend comes back with a rich backer to kick her out at a family banquet.She slaps the ungrateful sister-in-law, chokes the ex, leaks the mother-in-law's cheating pics, and then fakes helplessness the second her husband shows up to destroy the ex. After he beats the crap out of the ex, Cecilia leans down to sneer in her ear: "I can wipe out your whole family in 2 seconds.How dare you mess with me?"

At 18, Nadia Wolfe fell in love and began a secret ten-year affair with her father’s subordinate, Jack Mayer.When her brother died and her father became gravely ill, she begged him to marry her—only to be rejected again in favor of his childhood friend, Bree Ewing. This time, Nadia didn’t cry. She knelt before the gods, offered a prayer, and chose the fierce mercenary Lucian Wyler, setting the fastest possible wedding date.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.