Godfather Seven Year Of Itch

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, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me to tears before taking me so deep I forgot my own name." Her fingers were still toying with my collar, but her gaze was already distant. "But remember, keep this from Kevin. If he finds out what I've been doing behind his back while pregnant, it will be a disaster." The socialite sisters gathered around them shared knowing chuckles, raising their glasses and promising to keep the secret. The warmth in my veins turned to ice. My fervent passion to welcome a new life was instantly reduced to a pathetic joke. They had all forgotten that I spent my childhood in southern France. I understood every single syllable. I forced myself to remain calm, my face fixed in the perfect smile expected of a blissful husband about to welcome his first child, but the hand holding my champagne glass was trembling. I didn't fly into a rage. I didn't smash everything in sight. Instead, I took out my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days prior for the Aegis Agency, a highly classified organization on the other side of the world, and clicked "Accept." In three days, I would vanish from Blair's world.

He warmed his way into her heart with diamonds and she unknowingly, fell for it and paved a path for him...

Seven years ago, I signed a mate contract as Luna. For my mother’s dying wish and for the Pack’s stability, I personally pushed a man with nothing to his name onto the Alpha throne. I held the Pack together for him, expanded our businesses, and handled the filthy negotiations and the deals no one wanted to see in the light. Everyone said— I was calm, I was formidable, I was qualified. Just… not much like a “gentle mate.” Until that day. I stood in the bedroom and watched my Alpha husband lay his hand over my paralyzed stepsister’s slightly rounded belly. They told me it was for the greater good of the Pack. That child would be registered under my name. He would call me Mother. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just waited for the seven-year term to hit its end and activated the trust clause my mother left behind. Accounts frozen. Capital withdrawn. The wolf empire I built with my own hands collapsed overnight. By the time he knelt in the ruins and finally understood what he’d lost— I had already taken back my mother’s last name, dissolved the mate bond, and stepped onto a new territory.

In a world ruled by criminals, civilians live a shit life. A cook gets shot to death for saving a man's life and gets an audience with God. "Civilians are humans too!" he complained. As compensation, God shoved him into the body of Zen Taro - the Taro Family’s useless third young master. Given the ability to learn at hyperspeed, Zen has to find a way to survive this crazy deathtrap of an academy. Armed with only his superior gaming, civilian common sense and cooking skills, watch him survive the crazy VR battle royale in true Zen Fashion. Status: Season 6 in 2024! Join my discord for updates.

Seven times, I bonded with the same Alpha. And seven times, he tore our bond apart for his childhood flame. The first time, he swore it under the moon. “Astrid, my Luna. From this day forward, my heart and my wolf are yours alone.” But the moment his precious Liana returned, his promises turned to ash. “Can’t you just be patient? You’re making her uncomfortable, making it look like she’s seducing a mated male.” The first time he rejected me, the searing pain of the bond breaking nearly killed my wolf. They sent me to the pack healers, but he never came. Not once. The third time, I swallowed my pride as an Alpha’s daughter. I joined his pack as a nobody, just to be near his scent. By the sixth time, I knew the drill. I packed my bags and walked out of our penthouse without a word. My breakdowns. My compromises. My surrender. All I got for my pain were his clockwork apologies and the same betrayal. Over and over again. Until now. The moment I heard Liana was coming back, I handed him the papers to sever our bond myself. He just set a date for our next bonding ceremony, as if nothing had happened. He has no idea. This time, I’m not just breaking the bond. I’m shattering the heart that beat for him seven times, only to be crushed by his own hands, seven times.