What Books Are Similar To Childhood Disrupted?

WARNING!!! This book is intended for mature audiences only. It is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. ********************* I was never supposed to become his obsession. One reckless night. One dangerous secret. One mistake that tied my fate to the most feared mafia syndicate in the city. I thought the son was my soul mate. Until I met his father. Cold, ruthless, and untouchable. A man who rules the underworld with blood on his hands and power in his veins. I should hate him. But every stolen touch pushes us closer to ruin. My heart tells me to run, but the darker part of me craves the one man who ruined my innocence. Loving him is forbidden. But the magnetic pull toward him proves impossible to resist. What begins as a shameful secret quickly spirals into a forbidden obsession filled with stolen, addictive encounters that leave me aching and craving for more. As the lines between lust and love blur, I finds myself torn between the boy I thought she loved and the man who has awakened something dangerous and irresistible within me. In a world of secrets, jealousy, and scorching passion, I must decide if I am willing to risk everything. My relationship, my future, and my heart for the one man I was never supposed to want. In his world, loyalty is bought with blood. And falling for his father's obsession may cost me my soul. Ruined by His Father is a dark mafia romance filled with forbidden desire, dangerous secrets, ruthless power, betrayal, and a love that was doomed from the very first touch.

My name is Chase Murphy. I've been married to Jessica Stanton for three years. After she tells me that she's infertile, she brings home two children from an orphanage. I raise them as my own, investing everything I have into their lives. But in return, they push me down the stairs without a second thought. "Now our real dad can finally be with Mom." In that split second, the truth crashes down on me. These aren't just any children—they belong to Jessica and her first love, Troy McPoland. When I open my eyes again, I find myself transported back to the day Jessica first introduces the children into our lives. This time, I'm done being the fool raising someone else's family.

For nearly five centuries, no child has drawn a first breath. The Creator sealed the womb of the world, and humanity learned to live without its future. But in the depths of Triune, another kind of genesis rose. From the Middle comes a child with power and lineage to rival the Creator. Not born, but woven. Not raised, but awakened. Bodies shaped by design. Souls coaxed from silence. Each one a crafted echo of what humanity once was. Those who survive their emergence ascend to the Upper. Those who falter are reclaimed by the dark. On the night meant to mark their passage into adulthood, five friends stumble upon a truth older than scripture and sharper than prophecy: The first humans were not what they were told. The gods were not who they claimed to be. And the Children of Triune were never meant to ask why. Some truths don't set you free, they come for you.

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

My stepson, Lucas Lincoln, is trapped in a fire. After calling the fire brigade, I quickly ring my husband, Jasper Lincoln. Jasper is the leader of a search-and-rescue team, after all. But to my dismay, Jasper is currently keeping his ex-wife, Yvonne Schmidt, company. Yvonne has won the "Forensic Doctor of the Year" award, and so they are out celebrating it. My phone calls are rejected again and again. Jasper never once calls me back, even after Lucas' cries for help disappear entirely. By the time the fire brigade arrives to quell the flames, Lucas has been burned to a crisp. I tell Jasper what happened to our son, but he only gleefully says, "He was nothing but a troublemaker who'd contribute nothing to society. If he's dead, then so be it. This way, he won't grow up to become a menace. "Yvonne happens to be giving a public talk tomorrow and is still in need of a specimen demonstrating burn injuries. She can use Noah's corpse for her demonstration since it's still fresh." I sneer. So Jasper thinks that my own son, Noah Green, is the one who died in the fire. I immediately send Lucas' blackened corpse to Yvonne's operating room.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"