port said stadium riot

My husband, Cesare Ferrante, the most feared Don of the Ferrante family, had always hated children. Yet everything changed the moment my stepsister, Bianca Moretti, moved in next door with her six-month-old baby. Suddenly, my husband became obsessed with that child. He personally fed the baby formula, sang lullabies, and carried the baby everywhere he went. Every day, he came home exhausted at dawn, yet his face glowed with joy, as if that baby occupied his entire soul. I became invisible to him. Three days ago, someone forced my car off the road, and I crashed into the median. Blood streamed down my forehead, and my vision swam. I called Cesare 55 times. He did not answer a single call. Instead, he posted a photo of the baby on his social media. [My little angel smiled today!] I had had enough. Tonight at the family banquet, every member of the famiglia was seated around the table. I raised my final toast, then set down my glass. "I want a divorce." They all froze. "Are you insane?" My parents' voices rose in unison. Cesare grabbed my wrist, disbelief written across his face. "Giulia, you want to divorce me just because I was busy taking care of the baby and didn't answer your calls? You're actually jealous of a six-month-old child?" I did not meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the glaring kiss mark behind his ear. "Since you love that child so much," I said calmly, "I'll make it easy for you. Go be that child's father."

“Darcy is feeling dizzy tonight. Let's suppress our bond, Emma. We can have our marking ceremony some other day.” Those were the exact words he spat when I called him on the day that was supposed to be our marking ceremony. It was the seventh time he asked me to suppress the sacred bond between us for his childhood sweetheart. The first time he suppressed it was because Darcy’s pack was under attack and he wanted to be by her side. “Darcy is fighting for her survival and you want me to be pulled by our fated bond? Don't make me believe you are this selfish., Emma.” The third time he suppressed it he said, “Darcy is having a fever. I can't leave her alone.” By the sixth time, he didn't bother explaining why he had the witch suppress our bond in the most brutal way possible because he was in a hurry to go meet Darcy. Since we were fated mates, every time he wanted to be intimate with her, he would have a witch suppress the bond between us. As an Alpha, this suppression barely affects him but as an Omega, it would leave me in a terrible pain that I could not get up from my bed for weeks. Though devastated seeing me in such pain, he would offer me only a few lines of apologies and a bundle of promises to make it up to me in future. That's it. So, when the seventh time, he refused to mark me and came home to suppress our bond to be with Darcy, I had already packed my clothes. It will be the last time he suppresses our bond because the next time, there will be no bond between us to suppress.

It is said that Marco Colombo, the heir of the Colombo family of Chiron, is holding a wedding for his mistress, Gina Bilotti, today. The scale is ten times grander than when he marries Isabella Pratico in a political union. I lean against the ebony railing on the second floor. Sipping my red wine, I watch the lively scene of clinking glasses and mingling guests below with quiet amusement. Gina is definitely favored—she is even wearing a ruby necklace. One should know that set of ruby jewelry is an heirloom of the Colombo family. It is something only the Donna and the wife of the heir are allowed to wear. "You must be Isabella, the one Marco who does not love." A voice suddenly comes from beside me. I turn my head and see the woman wearing the ruby necklace before me. Gina has come up to the second floor at some point and is now looking at me with a cunning smile on her face. I freeze for a moment, not yet able to respond. She suddenly grabs my hand and yanks it hard toward herself. There is a sharp tearing sound, and the hem of her wedding dress rips open with a long tear. Gina lets out a cry, and tears immediately stream down her face. "Mrs. Colombo, why did you tear my wedding dress? Marco specially commissioned this from an independent designer just for our wedding! "If you really cannot tolerate my presence, then I will break up with Marco today and leave Chiron…" The surrounding guests all lift their heads and glare at me angrily. I am stunned because I am not Isabella. I am the new wife of Marco's father, the woman of the current Don, and the Donna of the Colombo family.

After our eighty-eighth canceled wedding, I called my business partner. "I'm taking the Haviana market project." There was a beat of stunned silence. "Seriously? That's ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren't you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything." I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. "There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They've got Cindy. That's all they need." Another pause. "Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow." After the call, I ran a hand down my wedding dress. One last tear slipped out, quiet and pointless. Cindy had another "episode" today. Claimed she'd off herself. Andrew canceled—again. I'd looked at him, drained. "It's the eighty-eighth time." He dropped his head, guilt all over him. "Just a little more time, Viv. She's been off since the accident. I'm scared she'll actually do it. I swear, I'll talk to her. For real this time. Then we'll get married. Promise." My parents didn't hesitate. "Vivian, let Andrew go. If Cindy hadn't gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn't have these breakdowns. Are you really putting a wedding over your sister's life?" "How could you be so selfish?" I'd heard it all before. Used to fight it. Not this time. If neither my fiancé nor my parents wanted me around, then fine. I'd leave.

My husband and I were the two people who hated each other most in this world. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. And I hated him because that his heart remained occupied by another woman. For eight years of marriage, the words we spoke to each other most often were not love, nor duty, but curses. Yet on the day the city fell, everything changed, the enemy banners were already visible beyond the inner gate. He rode ahead and took the road, putting his body between the enemy and my escape. “Live,” he said quietly. Then he raised his blade and did not look back. Arrows came like rain. As they tore into him, he turned his head once—only once— After that, his body held the road,and nothing passed. “If there is another life…may Your Highness grant me the mercy to belong to her.” That night, with the city in ruins and the people either dead or fleeing, I climbed the highest tower of the palace. I leapt. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the king. “The northern kingdoms require a royal bride,” I said. “I will go.” This lifetime, I will be the one to cross the border. In my previous life, he died believing he had failed her. This time, I will not allow that regret to exist. I will take the marriage meant for her. I will carry the crown meant to exile her. I will walk into a future she should never have to endure. Let her stay. Let him protect her. Let him live his life believing he has finally kept his promise.

The Northern Pack had one unbreakable rule: the Alpha heir could never bond with a human girl. Despite that, Alpha Kieran Wolfe still formed a mate bond with me. To be with me, he openly defied the Elders' Council. He endured 99 lashes and was forced to kneel at the altar for three days and nights. Even as blood soaked through his shirt, he smiled at me and said, "Elise, don't be afraid. I only want you." Eventually, the Elders' Council finally relented and agreed to let Kieran leave with me. However, there was one condition: he had to leave a pure-blood heir behind for the Pack. From that moment on, the phrase I heard most from Kieran was "wait". The first time, Kieran asked me to wait while he got another she-wolf to carry his pup. He slept with Cecelia Donati 33 times until she was carrying his pup. The second time, he told me to wait again because the first pup was a female, and the Elders wanted a male. So, Kieran slept with Cecelia 99 more times until she was carrying his pup again. Just when I thought our ordeal was finally over, their daughter, Tyra Wolfe, accidentally ate wolfsbane at her Meet the Pup Party. Everyone was convinced I had poisoned her. When they threw me into the freezing cold storage room, Kieran stood at the doorway with bloodshot eyes. "I told you to wait..." His gaze was ice-cold and cutting. "You know what wolfsbane means to our kind. Why would you hurt my pup?" The words "my pup" hit me like a knife to the heart. My fingernails dug deep into my palms as the pain tore through me. When the storage room door opened again, I loosened my bloodied hands. This time, I was not going to wait anymore.

On the day I got pregnant again, August decided to give up on gambling and work to provide for the family. I was so touched that I cried. With trembling hands, I handed him the money I had saved up after working odd jobs for a year. Two of the bank notes fell on the floor, and I picked them up before running after him. When I reached the end of the alley, I saw the mafia members who always came to our doorstep to demand repayment of our debt. They treated August respectfully. Apparently, his poverty was just a facade. “Mr. August, do we still need to surround your house and demand payment tomorrow?” August sat in a Lincoln limousine and said nonchalantly, “No need.” He stared at the ring on his finger and sighed. “It’s been years. It’s enough to prove that her love for me is real. She once worked so hard to pay off my debt that she suffered a miscarriage. “I already betrayed her once. It’s time to tell her about my true identity so that she doesn’t have to work so hard anymore.” But Ivy, his childhood friend, pouted. “You can’t! It’s not time yet to reveal the truth! What if she’s like your previous girlfriends and only cares about your money and your identity as a mafia boss? “You should wait a little longer and see whether she wants to have this baby.” August gave a wistful nod. “Alright. I’ll do as you say. In any case, she has been with me for so long. I don’t think she can leave me now.” I clenched the money in my hands and turned around. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I no longer wanted to live this lie dressed as love.

The Northern Pack had one unbreakable rule: the Alpha heir could never bond with a human girl. Despite that, Alpha Kieran Wolfe still formed a mate bond with me. To be with me, he openly defied the Elders' Council. He endured 99 lashes and was forced to kneel at the altar for three days and nights. Even as blood soaked through his shirt, he smiled at me and said, "Elise, don't be afraid. I only want you." Eventually, the Elders' Council finally relented and agreed to let Kieran leave with me. However, there was one condition: he had to leave a pure-blood heir behind for the Pack. From that moment on, the phrase I heard most from Kieran was "wait". The first time, Kieran asked me to wait while he got another she-wolf to carry his pup. He slept with Cecelia Donati 33 times until she was carrying his pup. The second time, he told me to wait again because the first pup was a female, and the Elders wanted a male. So, Kieran slept with Cecelia 99 more times until she was carrying his pup again. Just when I thought our ordeal was finally over, their daughter, Tyra Wolfe, accidentally ate wolfsbane at her Meet the Pup Party. Everyone was convinced I had poisoned her. When they threw me into the freezing cold storage room, Kieran stood at the doorway with bloodshot eyes. "I told you to wait..." His gaze was ice-cold and cutting. "You know what wolfsbane means to our kind. Why would you hurt my pup?" The words "my pup" hit me like a knife to the heart. My fingernails dug deep into my palms as the pain tore through me. When the storage room door opened again, I loosened my bloodied hands. This time, I was not going to wait anymore.

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

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.

"Every time my husband, Dave Tarrett, spent the night at his ex Maggie Gorringe's place, he bought me another building. Two years into our marriage, I owned 285 commercial properties across the country. Which also meant Dave had screwed me over 285 times. After the deed to property number 286 landed in my hands, Maggie sent me another smug little video. ""So what if Dave throws money at you? I'm the one who gets his body and his heart. You might be some international supermodel, but you still can't get your own husband into bed."" I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I mailed her the newest Victoria's Secret set from my latest runway show. When Dave found out how ""generous"" I'd been, he rewarded me by taking me to some elite social event. During a party game, Maggie lost three rounds straight and got dared to lick whipped cream off some playboy's thigh. She grabbed a wine bottle, smashed it, and shoved the jagged edge against her neck. ""Dave, I'm not letting anyone humiliate me like this!"" Dave—usually cold as ice—instantly panicked. Then he turned to me. Of course he did. ""It's just whipped cream,"" he said softly. ""Do this for her. I swear I'll go home with you after."" Everyone waited for me to lose it. But I stayed calm and agreed without a word. He didn't know this was the 287th time he'd hurt me. And I was done being his pet. Once I paid back the debt I owed him for saving my life, we'd be done for good. "

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.

The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, I saw my mate, Alpha Viggo, bringing another she-wolf to her prenatal check-up. I froze on the spot, the pregnancy report crumpling in my fist. That night, he looked at me with ice in his eyes. The same man who once kissed every inch of my body. The same man who swore he was mine and mine alone. “She’s carrying my pup. Her wolf is unstable. You will brew her calming tonics. Every single day.” “She's sensitive. She can't sleep without my scent. So move your things to the west wing. Make room for her.” The huge villa fell deathly silent. My wolf howled—a sharp, wounded cry. Pain from our mate bond ripped through my soul. But I didn't shed a single tear. I just calmly grabbed the suitcase I’d already packed and walked toward the door. The guards tried to stop me, but Viggo didn’t even glance up. “She’ll be back,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass, his Alpha arrogance on full display. “Three days. That’s all she’ll last. Her wolf will drive her mad without my touch. She’ll come crawling back, begging.” The pack members and allies who had come for our ceremony erupted in laughter. A few of them even made a bet right in front of me, wagering a million-dollar aurora ore mine. They bet I’d be torn apart by the fear of going rogue and be on my knees by midnight, begging Viggo to let me back in. But they had no idea. My birth father had already secretly sent our family token. My pack was already waiting. This time, I would shatter our bond for good.

On my eighteenth birthday, the High King summoned the heirs of the four great clans—the Vampires, the Werewolves, the High Serpent Clan, and the Merfolk. He laid their portraits before me and said, "Choose one to be your bondmate." I did not hesitate. I pointed to Damon—the werewolf with no noble bloodline, born in a forgotten corner of the realm. The entire court erupted in disbelief. Everyone knew who I used to love. Alpha Iris—the heir of the most powerful Lycan bloodline. For seven years, I chased him with blind devotion. No matter how harshly he treated me, I never gave up. I confessed to him over and over, sometimes right in the royal court. I even performed a blood-binding ritual—slitting my wrist—to earn the right to marry him. In my previous life, I got what I wanted—I married him and we performed the mate bonding ceremony. With that union, he inherited the High King's resources and rose to become the ruler of all four clans. However, what I did not expect was that after our wedding, he turned around and marked my adoptive sister. My parents were furious and sent her away. From that day on, Iris hated me with a vengeance. He surrounded himself with women who all looked eerily like her. One by one, they came—each more vicious than the last. With his silent approval, they tore me down, piece by piece, until I was nothing more than a joke—no longer the queen I once was. The suffering pushed me into severe depression. Only suppressants keep my wolf form from spiraling out of control. Until one day, my medication was replaced with a slow-acting poison. He was the one who did it. I died alone, locked away in the cold palace, a child still growing inside me. However, fate gave me another chance. In this life, I would not make the same mistake. When the High King once again asked me to choose a partner for the marriage alliance, I chose Damon—the one no one ever noticed—without even blinking.

On my eighteenth birthday, the High King summoned the heirs of the four great clans—the Vampires, the Werewolves, the High Serpent Clan, and the Merfolk. He laid their portraits before me and said, "Choose one to be your bondmate." I did not hesitate. I pointed to Damon—the werewolf with no noble bloodline, born in a forgotten corner of the realm. The entire court erupted in disbelief. Everyone knew who I used to love. Alpha Iris—the heir of the most powerful Lycan bloodline. For seven years, I chased him with blind devotion. No matter how harshly he treated me, I never gave up. I confessed to him over and over, sometimes right in the royal court. I even performed a blood-binding ritual—slitting my wrist—to earn the right to marry him. In my previous life, I got what I wanted—I married him and we performed the mate bonding ceremony. With that union, he inherited the High King's resources and rose to become the ruler of all four clans. However, what I did not expect was that after our wedding, he turned around and marked my adoptive sister. My parents were furious and sent her away. From that day on, Iris hated me with a vengeance. He surrounded himself with women who all looked eerily like her. One by one, they came—each more vicious than the last. With his silent approval, they tore me down, piece by piece, until I was nothing more than a joke—no longer the queen I once was. The suffering pushed me into severe depression. Only suppressants keep my wolf form from spiraling out of control. Until one day, my medication was replaced with a slow-acting poison. He was the one who did it. I died alone, locked away in the cold palace, a child still growing inside me. However, fate gave me another chance. In this life, I would not make the same mistake. When the High King once again asked me to choose a partner for the marriage alliance, I chose Damon—the one no one ever noticed—without even blinking.

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.