Attack Titan Jean Mga Nobela at Kwento

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”

My fiancé stood me up at our rehearsal dinner at the Sterling family estate. Just before midnight, I got a message from Miles. Kate's pregnant. It's not my kid. But I have to marry her. The kid needs the Sterling name to be seen as legitimate. Our wedding is off for the next three years. We have to keep our distance until then. You need to handle the Alliance elders. Whatever you do, protect Kate from them. Tell everyone you're the one who called it off. I stared at the screen and typed back a single word. Fine. I was done with him. I never wanted to marry him in the first place.

At the Mercer family's annual dinner, I accidentally wore a couture gown that belonged to Lucian's late wife. The eight-year-old boy I had raised myself, in front of every key member of the Family, threw a glass of expensive red wine all over my pure white dress. He just stood there, his cold, condescending expression a mirror of his father's. "Don't think you can become the mistress of this house just by dressing like my Mamma." "I swear, when I'm old enough to take over the family business, I'll make you disappear for good!" The cold liquid soaked through the fabric, clinging to my skin. But I felt nothing. My heart had frozen solid the moment I signed my life away eight years ago. I looked at the child I had raised as my own for eight years. There was no anger. The faintest smile touched my lips. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You won't have to wait that long, my little lion. I'm leaving, and it will be very soon."

I was the Falcone family's top consigliere. Their brain. And today, I was walking away—handing over the books to every legitimate business I ran, severing my final tie. My protégé couldn't understand. "You're the future of this family, Aurelia. You can't just leave." I shook my head with a bitter smile. They didn't know. I'd been secretly married to the Don, Vittorio Falcone, for three years. I thought my looks, my mind, and everything I gave him would be enough to win all of his love. A hit at the docks three months ago showed me the truth. I took thirteen bullets. Emergency. I needed the family surgeon—which required Vittorio's direct order. I called him over a dozen times. But when he finally answered, all I heard was a soft, breathless voice on his end. "Vittorio, we haven't cut my birthday cake. Will you hold my hand and cut it with me?" That voice. My best friend. The woman Vittorio once had a crush on. Carina. In the safe house, weak from blood loss, I dug the bullet out myself and had one of my men rush me to a family clinic. Right before they wheeled me into the OR, Vittorio burst in—carrying Carina. Twisted ankle. Needed a doctor. Now. My surgeon was dragged away. The antibiotics came too late. The wound got infected. I fought for my life for a week. When I woke up, I stared at my phone. Not a single message. The tears finally came. I understood. I was just the woman he'd been forced to marry after he was drugged and slept with me. A scandal averted. All he cared about was my value and his reputation. And me? The secret princess of the Rossi family, who gave up everything to build his empire. All for nothing. So I prepared four parting gifts. A celebration of our mutual destruction. Then he'd never see me again.

On the day of our mating ceremony, my Alpha, Silas, ripped the Luna gown right off my body. He dressed Jenna, his childhood sweetheart, in it. Right in front of the entire pack. I froze. Silas’s voice echoed in my mind. "I know this hurts, Caliana. But Jenna is pregnant. If I don't pretend to mate with her today, the elders will execute her pup!" He begged me to wait one year. Just until her pup was accepted by the pack. He swore he would come back for me. His true fated mate. Everyone thought I would wait. I was the Omega healer who had loved him for seven years. The girl who never left his side. But that night, Silas marked her. Our fated bond shattered into a million pieces. And then I met him. My true second chance mate: Zane, the Alpha Chairman of the Werewolf Alliance. Three years later, I returned with my new mate. We were there to assess Silas's pack. To decide if they were still worthy of the moonstone mines. Zane was called away on urgent business, leaving me in the local Alpha’s care. The local Alpha. Silas. I never thought I’d see that face again. He sneered at me, calling me a rogue. He wrapped his arm around a stunning Jenna. "Your little tantrum is over," he told me, his voice dripping with condescension. "If you want to come back, I suppose I can find a place for you. Jenna needs someone to heal her pet dog. You might be good enough for that."

Back home in Sicily, there’s a rule. If I’m not married by 30, I go back for an arranged marriage. When I told my boyfriend, Jax, he scoffed. "What century is your hometown stuck in? The Middle Ages? Arranged marriages? Alessia, I said I'd marry you. Stop trying to force my hand with this pathetic drama." He casually pulled out a pigeon-blood ruby ring and tossed it to his personal assistant, Bianca. She caught it, blushing. "I was going to propose tonight. But since you’re so desperate, I think we both need to cool off." The ring I’d waited years for. He just threw it to someone else. My heart froze over. Jax walked out of my office with a conqueror's smirk. Bianca pushed the ring toward me. I didn't even look at it. "Take it. It’s your size, isn't it?" The color drained from her face. I shoved her out the door. Right before I slammed it shut, I said, "Tell your boss we're done." He didn't know the "elders" forcing me into this marriage were led by the most ruthless Godfather in Sicily. And the "blind date" was an arranged union with the Don of the North American Five Families.

That year, during the Sicilian arms trafficking conflict, my lover of three years, Silvio, deliberately betrayed my transport routes at a critical moment in a deal with the rival "DiMarco" family, causing me to lose all my territory. He immediately defected to the DiMarco family's leader Marina, becoming her lover. As he left, he didn't even bother to disguise his betrayal, coldly tossing out, "What we had was just business, nothing personal." While I was burdened with my family's blood debts and pushed to the edge of a cliff, Lorenzo, who had secretly harbored feelings for me since childhood, found me and offered his family's entire fortune. "Isabella, don't be afraid. In my eyes, you'll always be Sicily's most formidable Queen of the Arms Trade," he said. He took the Colt pistol from my hand, and his voice was gentle yet resolute. Five years later, my power resurged. I was about to completely crush Marina's smuggling network and reclaim everything I had lost. My caporegimes, the captains of my organization, were ready and waiting for my command. But on the night before the operation, my weapons warehouse suddenly exploded, turning priceless arms into worthless scrap metal. I barely escaped through the thick smoke, my body covered in burns. In a secluded monastery, I overheard Lorenzo and Silvio whispering outside my door. "You really had the guts to blow up the arsenal. Weren't you afraid of blasting her to pieces too?" Silvio's voice carried a mocking tone. "If she died, just died. I've always loved Marina. If it weren't for that unlucky family marriage lottery five years ago, I wouldn't have had to endure this ugly bitch for all this time." Lorenzo's voice was ice-cold and unfamiliar. I closed my eyes, feeling like a dagger had pierced my chest. Explosion. Arranged marriage. Ugly bitch. So those five years of shared hardship were just his unwilling choice after losing a high-stakes gamble. "I married her to keep watch. If it weren't for me paving

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family. One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids. Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing. “Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?” “That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.” Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed. “If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.” “But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.” “Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.” My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand. He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall. He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean. Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows. He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago. He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea. I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

My husband, Matthew Glover, fabricates a scandal to help his childhood sweetheart, reporter Melanie Reed, boost her numbers. "Mrs. Glover Sleeps Around—Multiple Affairs Lead to Repeated Miscarriages." He uses it as a gimmick to grab attention. Next thing I know, my name's in the mud and the internet's tearing me to pieces. When I bring up divorce, Matthew says I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Melanie just started at the TV station. If she doesn't deliver, her coworkers will laugh at her. You're just doing her a favor. It's not like you're actually losing anything." I don't even bother arguing with him. I simply push the divorce agreement toward him. "If you want to help her, go ahead. But we're getting divorced!"

I married Don Alessandro in secret. The Five Families of Chicago had ruled for generations. And I had married into the most powerful of them. For four years, Alessandro made me promises. One hundred and twelve times. And one hundred and twelve times, he left me standing alone. The first time, his ex‑girlfriend’s father had a heart attack. Alessandro canceled the wedding and stayed with her for three full weeks. The second time, she crashed her Maserati into a fountain in Monaco. Drunk. He flew there overnight and paid off the police chief personally. Every time, right before our wedding, she manufactured another crisis. I begged. I screamed. I put a knife to my own wrist. Alessandro just laughed, pulled the blade from my hand, and fucked me against the nearest wall. “She’s my ex‑girlfriend. You’re my wife. You don't need to be jealous of her.” After the one hundred and twelfth time, I stopped feeling anything. I pushed a piece of agreement in front of him.“Our marriage. Our alliance. Consider it terminated.”