

May Song died trying to protect her best friend. In her past life, she exposed the affair between Susan Smith's husband and goddaughter, only for Susan to turn on her instead, and May paid for the truth with her life.Given a second chance, May isn't here to warn anyone. This time, she lets it play out and makes sure Susan opens the door herself.

At a concert seven years ago, the iconic singer, Carmen Rowe, announced her sudden retirement from the music industry. She had found the boy she'd been searching for. The boy, now known as Ben Lewis, was the CEO of Lewis Group and had lost his eyesight in a car accident. Carmen pretended to be a mute and stayed by his side. Under her meticulous care, Ben eventually regained his vision after removing his bandages. However, the moment he could see again, he ran straight to his first love, Carmela Taylor. Heartbroken by the rejection despite all she had done, Carmen decided to divorce Ben and return to the music industry with her daughter. Later, Ben organized a grand comeback concert for Carmela. But during the performance, he recognized that Carmela's voice wasn't the legendary one he remembered. It was only then that he realized the truth. By that time, Carmen Rowe had fully reclaimed her status as the top music diva and had no intention of giving Ben another chance.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.

Three years ago, I drugged the mafia heir, Vincent. After that one wild night, he didn’t kill me. Instead, he fucked me until my legs went weak, gripping my waist and whispering the same word over and over: “Principessa.” Just as I was about to propose, his first love, Isabella, returned. To keep her happy, Vincent let a car hit me, had my mother’s heirlooms thrown to stray dogs, and sent me to prison… But when I was finally broken, flying to Boston to marry someone else, Vincent tore New York City apart to find me.