What Happens At The End Of Dolly?

The wedding had been postponed ninety-nine times. I called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride's name to Ivy Sterling, Charles Hart's childhood sweetheart. "Donna, are you sure?" the planner asked cautiously. "This time, the Don didn't postpone again." I heard the surprise in his voice. My answer was calm. "Yes. Change it to Ivy Sterling." From the very beginning, Charles gave only one instruction for the wedding: "Adjust the decorations according to Ivy's taste." He explained that Ivy had good taste, that she would only serve as a reference for our wedding. But every choice, the flowers, the favors, the entrance music, was made by Ivy. Even my wedding dress. She had said lightly, "A mermaid silhouette suits her better." So I decided to give the entire wedding, steeped in her presence, to them. And I walked away from this farce completely. From now on, let him keep his old dreams. I will go and enjoy my own boundless sky.

He didn't want her money. He wanted her. Elara Vance is one bad week away from losing everything. Her freelance career is barely keeping the lights on, her sister is falling apart on her couch, and her car is about to be repossessed. So when she accidentally damages a stranger's luxury car on an empty street, she knows she's ruined. But the man who steps out of the black sedan isn't interested in her insurance. He isn't interested in the police. He isn't even interested in the forty‑two thousand dollars she owes him. Adrian Volkov wants something else entirely. He's been watching her for weeks. He knows about her sister, her bills, her father's death. He knows she's desperate enough to do anything. And he's about to prove it. The contract is simple: she moves into his mansion, follows his rules, and becomes his Doll. In exchange, her debt disappears. No police. No record. No questions. But the rules aren't what she expects. The mansion is a cage, the servants know more than they say, and Adrian's cold exterior hides something darker than she ever imagined. He doesn't just want her body. He wants her submission. Her trust. Her surrender. And he won't stop until he has all of it. Elara tells herself it's just a transaction. A way to survive. But the line between obligation and desire blurs with every glance, every touch, every night she spends in his bed. The more he controls her, the more she craves it. And the more she learns about his past, the more she realizes: she was never the one in control. And now that she's his Doll, he'll never let her go. Doll is a dark romance with explicit content, power dynamics, and a slow‑burn descent into obsession. Recommended for readers 18+.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, I found out my husband Don had booked me a termination surgery instead of a postpartum care package. I thought he had placed the wrong order and was about to tease him, but Vincenzo spoke flatly. "I didn't book it wrong. I need to come clean with you about something." "I've been keeping another woman. She's a good girl. She doesn't want a title or to take your place as Donna." "But she got pregnant recently. I've already made her suffer enough. I can't let her child suffer too. I have to give the child the Moretti family name." I froze on the exam table, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Then why did you abort my child?" He wiped the ultrasound gel off my belly and smiled. "I just want you to adopt Giuliana's child. I'm having yours terminated because I'm afraid you'll play favorites and treat her kid differently." He handed me the consent form, calm and composed. "I promise you will always be Donna. No one will ever take your place." I gave him a long, hard look, then was wheeled into the operating room. "Never mind." "Vincenzo Moretti, you're going to regret this every single day for the rest of your life." He didn't know it, but I was the only woman in the world who could ever give him a child.

In my fourth year of becoming the wife to Matteo Costa, the Don of the Costa family, as know as La Rosa Nera, I no longer insist on making our relationship public. He has once told me that he will publicly announce my identity as Donna on our wedding anniversary this year. But ever since Vera Barbieri returns to the country, Matteo never brings this up again. He puts all his attention on Vera and always places all her needs first. He even abandons me on the highway because of a single phone call from Vera while my mother is on her deathbed. My mother never gets to see me one last time before she dies. At this moment, I finally give up on him. I prepare the divorce agreement and book a ticket to leave Nevoli. The day after tomorrow, I will leave this place and leave Matteo to his childhood sweetheart.

Ten years with Don Maximus. I went from the crazy girl who demanded his "undying loyalty" at gunpoint to Chicago's perfect Donna. When Maximus took the casino's hottest stripper to his private room, I didn't lose my mind. Instead, I tossed the woman the keys to a Manhattan penthouse. When Maximus's new flame threw a tantrum at a yacht party, I didn't bat an eye. Instead, after she slapped a waiter in a fit of pique, I made the police problem go away. When Maximus fought with one of his girls, I'd even send her a limited-edition Birkin to smooth things over. And today, Maximus is busy fucking his hot new toy in the study, while another pregnant mistress stands on the estate's rooftop, threatening to jump just to see him. And I'm still the one in my red-bottom heels, calmly going to clean up his mess. The mistress screamed, desperate. "I'm not having this baby! Get Maximus!" I took a sip of my wine, my voice bored. "He's busy today. You have the baby, and I'll make sure seven figures show up in your offshore account." My indifference set her off. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. "You're pathetic, Angelina! There was a time he wouldn't even look at another woman because of you. He slaughtered an entire family for you. When you were shot, he knelt in the pouring rain outside a church, begging God to take his life for yours! But now? You can't even get into his bed. All you can do is stand here and play the gracious Donna!" Her nails left red marks on my skin, but the smile on my face didn't crack. Did she really think a little drama would change anything? I wasn't playing the gracious Donna. I was just done. And I was finally ready to let Maximus go.

"I agree to the divorce," I said as I dialed my mother-in-law's number. "Matteo Bellandi will never agree to divorce me, so you need to arrange a new identity for me. I need to disappear completely. He must never find me." Despite six years of marriage, I never conceived a child. In the Mafia world, how many men remarried for the sake of an heir? Yet Matteo always stood firmly at my side. To have a child, we tried everything—ninety-nine rounds of IVF that resulted in ninety-eight failures. The final pregnancy ended in fetal demise. Matteo held me and said, "Whether we have a child or not, I will always love you." Everyone said he was deeply devoted and that I was fortunate. Even I believed it. I believed it was my body that was defective. I believed I was the one holding him back. Until that day, when I went to the hospital for a follow-up exam. I saw him with my own eyes, pushing a mobile hospital bed into a VIP suite. On the bed lay a young woman named Sienna Vale, who had just given birth, holding a pair of twins—a boy and a girl. The congratulations inside the room were sharp and piercing. They praised his good fortune and Sienna's superior genes. They said the children were born to inherit the Bellandi empire. They mocked my education and my background and said I could not produce a "high-quality" heir. "Who do you think you are, daring to speak about her? My wife is not someone you get to judge. If I hear one more word of disrespect toward my Donna, you'd better weigh the consequences yourself," Matteo rebuked them coldly, preserving my dignity as Donna. In that moment, I finally understood that the marriage I had been so proud of was nothing more than a joke in everyone else's eyes. If that was the case, I would end this love story everyone envied with my own hands.