

Rene Morgan is the long-lost daughter of the world's top tycoon. Tragically, her parents lost their lives searching for her. Consequently, the task of finding her was passed on to her three brothers. The eldest brother is a financial tycoon, the second brother is a movie star, and the third brother is a top surgeon, both locally and internationally. On the day her brothers received news of her whereabouts and rushed to find her, Rene was nearly killed by a malicious classmate. In their attempt to save her, her brothers got into a severe accident: one lost his memory, another became mentally impaired, and the last fell into a vegetative state. As a result, Rene work various part-time jobs to support them. However, when her adoptive parents force her into marriage, her three brothers suddenly recover. From that moment, she reclaims her status as a wealthy heiress, teaching a harsh lesson to those who wronged her.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

While delivering food, Sara Scott accidentally collided with Toby Luke, the son of the richest man in the city. Desperate to raise money for her boyfriend's research fees,Sara,feeling guilty, sold her electric bike, worth over a thousand dollars, to Toby for five thousand. This led Toby to mistakenly think she was a gold-digger. The two, who had no prior connection, became entangled due to Toby's father's will, which stipulated that he must marry the daughter of his first love to inherit the vast fortune, and that daughter turned out to be Sara. In order to secure the inheritance, Toby schemed to separate Sara from her scum boyfriend and tried to make her fall in love with him. However, in the process of his carefully laid plans, he found himself falling for Sara first.

When Jonathan Shaw brings his seventh pregnant mistress to me for the delivery, his friends start taking bets on how long it'll take before I break down. But even after the baby's cries echo through the delivery room, they never hear me lose control. "Come on, this is the seventh one. Are you sure she isn't done with you this time?" Jonathan shrugs. "She can't have children, and I've got a family legacy to carry on. I'll end up having kids with other women so they can inherit the family business either way. I might as well have a few now and let her get used to it." As soon as he finishes speaking, I walk out carrying the newborn. Following standard procedure, I announce, "Congratulations. He weighs seven pounds, six ounces. Both the mother and the baby are doing well." Jonathan smiles as he takes the baby from my arms. Then, he hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it," he orders. "It's just an act to humor her. She refuses to have our second child unless I divorce you first. Once the second baby's born, we'll have eight kids." I've gone along with his little charade seven times already. This time, I sign my name without hesitation. Jonathan seems to have forgotten one thing. It's not that I can't have children. We're just genetically incompatible. If I want a child, I just have to find a different man. Why would I spend the rest of my life raising someone else's children just to stay married to him?

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

On her senior prom night, Maeve is publicly dumped by her fiancé. In a moment of defiance, she flash-marries a mysterious delivery man, Lorenzo — unaware he is a secret billionaire. As hidden identities unravel and enemies strike, their fake marriage blossoms into true love.

Before Grandpa passed, he left behind two things: a billion-dollar fortune and three matches. He said, "Each of you gets to pick one. Renee, you're the oldest, so you go first." I did not hesitate for even a second and chose the fortune. That left my adopted sister, Vera Gallagher, with nothing but three matches. What none of us could have known was that those three matches were no ordinary matches. Each one, when lit, could make any wish come true. Vera resented our parents for favoring me, so she immediately cursed them a terrible death. Sure enough, Dad suddenly suffered a heart attack and died on the spot, and Mom was hit by a speeding semi-truck on her way to the hospital. I grabbed a kitchen knife and went straight to Vera to settle the score. I growled, "Didn't I tell you that once you turned 18, I would split Grandpa's inheritance with you? Our parents opened their home to you and gave you everything I had growing up. All these years, you ate the same food and wore the same clothes as I did. How could you betray them?!" Vera's face was filled with greed. "Since they chose to adopt me, they should have thrown you away and given me all the good things instead! I don't want your handouts. Once you're all dead, the money will be mine anyway!" With that, Vera sneered and lit the second match. "I wish Renee would be trafficked to some remote backwoods town, forced to carry and deliver eight babies at once, and die from complications!" I was horrified. I emptied my savings and hired over 1000 bodyguards to protect me day and night, making sure there was not a single weak spot. However, one night, every single bodyguard suddenly passed out at the same time, and I was kidnapped and sold deep into the mountains. I was tortured, abused, and forced to endure things no person should ever have to survive. I did not know how much time had passed before I finally swallowed my last breath in agony and humiliation. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn on the very da

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.