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“Do you take love or power?" he asked pointing the gun right at my forehead. In the underworld of Atlanta, blood ties are not only sacred, but also deadly. Ariella Johnson, a fearless law student, had no idea she would be bound to ruthless Mafia Don Luis DeLuca. He marries her not out of love, but to gain power, claiming her before his rival. To the outside world, she is his wife and a symbol of strength. But Ariella refuses to be controlled. Defiant and sharp-tongued, she confronts Luis at every turn, refusing to submit to a man who regards her as nothing more than a strategic move. When her father dies after discovering the truth at the hands of the defeated rival, Ariella's grief transforms into quiet determination. She won’t be a pawn in anyone’s game. As she learns to navigate the dangerous world she has been thrust into, she develops an unexpected bond with Luis' sister, Annie. However, not everyone in his household is an ally—Kendy, a cunning maid, secretly works against Ariella with, ensuring she never finds her footing. One reckless, drunken night transforms everything. Ariella discovers she is pregnant, forcing Luis to face the truth: his wife is no longer merely a symbol; she is his greatest weakness. But, before he can make things right, betrayal paves in. His most trusted allies turn on him, using Ariella as leverage in a deadly power struggle. With enemies closing in and time running out, Luis must decide whether to defend the empire he built or fight for the woman who refuses to be conquered. In a world where love is dangerous and trust is a luxury, survival requires knowing whom to protect and who to destroy. Read HIS RUTHLESS REDEMPTION

I am Summer Ramey-Carter, surrounded by opulence, beauty, and acclaim. The spotlight is already on me. However, beneath the mask that conceals, what do I so desperately desire that is not yet mine? The answer is Steven Carter’s heart. My husband who both detests and abhors me. When his childhood sweetheart returns, he presents me with our three-year marriage with the divorce papers as a gift. He doesn’t mind that it is our anniversary. “Let’s divorce and end this marriage, Summer.” I am already ready to accept the painful and bitter reality. Nonetheless, faith seems to have another plan when unexpectedly—I lose my memories. Book 1: Divorcing My Ruthless Husband (Chapter 1: Divorce to Chapter 180: The End) Book 2: The Brat Heiress (Chapter 181: Blurb) continuation of second generation.

"What the fuck—” I started. He looked up at me. His lips were wet, swollen. He licked them slowly, like he was savoring the taste. “Keep your hands where I left them,” he said. My jaw clenched. My knuckles went white against the bedsheets. I didn’t speak. I just watched him. He lowered his mouth again, slower this time. His tongue circled the tip, then slid down the side. I felt every second of it. Every inch. He paused halfway down and looked up at me again. “You like this too much.” My throat tightened. I didn’t answer. “Bet you’ve never let anyone make you beg.” *** Callum Kesington isn’t just a billionaire CEO. He doesn’t believe in love. He believes in control and power.But when his estranged brother resurfaces through a cryptic call, dragging him into a trail of files, threats, and old betrayals, everything he's built starts to crack. Remy Beckett, a rising star in the culinary world, is no strang to love but one man has him unraveled. A single dinner at Remy’s restaurant ignites an attraction that shakes Callum’s carefully guarded world. He’s never wanted a man before. Never craved the scrape of stubble against his skin or the heat of rough hands pinning him down. But Remy? He’s all Callum can think about. A shadowy attack leaves Remy bleeding in Callum’s arms, and suddenly, this isn’t about desire. It's about survival. Someone wants Remy dead, and Callum’s brother is at the center of it. Now, Callum must confront the ruthless empire he built, the family who betrayed him, and the truth he’s been denying.

For a Captain of the Royal house to have honour, he must saves the life of the only heir to the throne, else he will be dishonoured, and excuted; and for Captain Casablanca to become the king of the sea, he must kidnap the only hier, and vomit terror all around the Western sea.

Ever since my husband, the mafia capo Rocco Marchetti, poured all his attention and the family's resources into his brother's widow, the woman whose husband took a bullet for him. I found our daughter Tessy's diary, where she had started writing, "My Papa is gone." A nun from her private Catholic school called, asking about his passing. I paused for a moment. "Yes," I replied. "He passed away a long time ago." On Father's Day, the school organized a trip to the church to light prayer candles. While other children wrote cards praying for their fathers' safety, Tessy neatly wrote just two words on hers: "To Heaven." During the parent-teacher open house, the nuns displayed the children's decorated diaries on their desks. The theme for their entries was My Father. My Papa died in a shootout in the next neighborhood over. A lady there wouldn't stop crying, and then Papa never came home. After every entry like this, she would clutch the crucifix on her necklace, her small hand gripping it so tightly her palm grew slick with sweat. Eventually, Rocco sensed the growing chill at home. He dropped everything and rushed back to the estate with a bouquet of expensive red roses, hoping to celebrate his daughter's birthday with her. The door opened. On the coffee table lay Tessy's new diary, its title scrawled in a childish hand: If Papa Were Still Alive.

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.