Marilyn Monroe Trading Cards Novels & Stories

Two weeks before I stopped waiting, Ethan Hayes gave my island invitation to another woman. Her name was Mia Lawson. Twenty-six, pretty, soft-spoken, and always close enough to him that people had started pretending not to notice. That night, everyone at our table went quiet. Ethan didn't. He placed the envelope in her hand and said, "You've been working too hard. Take a break." Mia blushed like he had given her roses. I looked at the envelope, then at the man I had waited eight years to marry. That island was supposed to be ours. The beach, the villa, the ceremony site facing the ocean. All of it. Maya gripped my hand under the table and whispered, "Claire, say something." But I only smiled, because if I opened my mouth, I was afraid I would beg. And I was done begging. Two weeks later, on that same island, my phone kept lighting up with Ethan's name. I didn't answer. I was already wearing the white dress he had told me to return.

The night before I was supposed to stand beside Lucius Corleone at the altar and become his wife, he sent me a message. Sienna was pregnant. According to the family code, her child would be the first legitimate heir to the Corleone name. So Lucius ordered me to leave Sicily for three years—and tell everyone I had broken our contract first. For eight years, I had been his shadow. I wiped away his blood, buried his crimes, protected his business, and waited for the day he would finally bring me into the light. But now, he said Sienna belonged in the sunlight. I stared at the message, my hands still burning from scrubbing away the evidence of his latest murder. Then I typed back one word. "Understood." A second later, Sienna's official wedding announcement appeared on the Corleone family's private network. Apparently, she couldn't even wait until morning to wear my ring.

The day before the holiday, I gave the household staff the week off. Agnes was still in the kitchen before she left, packing desserts into a bag while talking to herself with a smile. "Miss Vanessa finally got what she wanted this time. Mr. Moretti even booked that seaside villa in Amalfi." I was texting Vanessa, asking her to come over later to try on the bridesmaid dress. Without thinking much of it, I asked, "Got what?" "The wedding," Agnes said naturally. "Isn't Mr. Moretti taking Miss Vanessa to Italy?" My fingers froze above the screen. Two seconds passed before I looked up at her. "Whose wedding?" The smile on Agnes's face slowly froze. She looked at me as if she had only just realized something was wrong. "You... didn't know?" For a moment, I almost laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Agnes, Luca and I signed the family marriage registry three years ago. Next week is only supposed to be the ceremony." The kitchen fell silent. Agnes opened her mouth, embarrassment spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I thought you knew." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "A while ago, when I was cleaning the study, I heard Mr. Moretti mention it to his lawyer. He said the marriage registry in your hands was never officially submitted to the family council." My heart sank. Three years ago, Luca had handed that document to me himself. He said the Moretti family was unstable, that we could not announce the marriage yet. Once he entered the inner circle of the Five Families, he would hold a proper wedding. So for all these years, I never pushed him. I even turned against the Castellano family for him. Thinking back now, maybe he had never planned to truly let me through the doors of the Moretti family in the first place.

I was born the Beta’s only child—raised like a son, trained like a soldier, and expected to protect my family’s legacy. I never asked to be anyone’s mate. Especially not his. Alpha Ethan Alaric is powerful, ruthless, and used to obedience. When his pack threatens to strip my father of his rank, Ethan offers a solution: me, as his Luna. A political match. A bond of duty. But I’m not a prize to be claimed. He remembers me as the girl who once beat him in a childhood spar. I remember him as the boy who never forgave me for it. Now, he wants me by his side—whether I want it or not. We clash like fire and ice. He wants control. I crave freedom. But the mate bond doesn’t care what we want. As I fight to keep my heart guarded, I uncover secrets buried in the shadows—whispers of a hidden heir, a crippled child cast aside, and an alliance built on more than just blood and power. To protect my father, I must step into the fire. To survive, I may have to let the Alpha burn.

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."

As one of London's premier wedding planners, I have spent my career orchestrating "perfect moments" for others, yet I never seemed to find my own. The ballroom at Claridge's was bathed in an opulent glow for my best friend Stella's wedding. The bridal bouquet sailed over the crowd. It brushed a young woman's fingertips, bounced once, and landed squarely in my arms. In an instant, half of London's high society turned toward Ryan. "Proposal! Proposal!" the crowd chanted over the rhythmic clink of champagne flutes. "Ryan, a sign like that is rare. Looks like we should prepare for the next big party!" Ryan was nudged forward by the crowd. In his charcoal Savile Row suit, he still managed to look detached, as if the noise had nothing to do with him. As I held the flowers, the lingering scent of fresh roses filled the air. For one ridiculous second, I even wondered whether I should warn him not to crease his trousers if he knelt. But he only smiled. Then, with practised ease, he took the bouquet from my arms. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned and handed it to his assistant, Emily, who was standing nearby. "She touched it first," he said, ruffling my hair with the same flawless tenderness I had endured for eight years. "Be good, Claire. Let's wait for the right time." The attention followed the flowers as they moved away. I caught the flicker of triumph in Emily's eyes and quickly looked down, tracing the intricate patterns of the carpet while forcing a perfectly poised smile. Ryan lived by schedules and efficiency, yet he never understood one simple truth: some chances, once missed, don't come with a "next time". My own wedding is next Saturday. And he has been officially struck from the guest list.

She never intended to fall for anyone—let alone three of them. Trying to make ends meet in Los Angeles, Alexis didn’t expect to be caught between her childhood crush, his irresistible brother, and a rising celebrity she was only supposed to fake date. With family chaos, betrayal, and forbidden love threatening to tear everything apart, Alexis must figure out where her heart truly belongs… before it’s too late.

He divorced her… not knowing she was pregnant. On the night their marriage ended, Aira Bennett walked away with nothing but a broken heart—and a secret she never intended to reveal. Three years later, she has rebuilt her life, raising her son in peace, far from the man who chose someone else over her. But fate is cruel. Because Lucien Blackwood is back. And this time, he’s not just her ex-husband— He’s the father of the child he never knew existed. When the truth comes to light, everything changes. Control turns into obsession, distance turns into tension, and the past refuses to stay buried. But Aira isn’t the woman he left behind. And she’s not ready to let him walk back into her life so easily. Especially not when another man has already stepped into the space Lucien abandoned. Now, with emotions rising, secrets unraveling, and a child at the center of it all— One question remains: Can love survive betrayal… or will it destroy them all over again?

After the team-building trip is over, I get complimented by my boss and colleague for organizing it because it's been a fun experience for everyone, not to mention the money they've paid is worth the experience. But the next day, I get publicly shamed by Marilyn Ross, a finance executive, in the company's group chat. She has posted a few ambiguous transaction screenshots and accused me of receiving 50 thousand dollars' worth of under-the-table commissions from the farm. All of my colleagues instantly take Marilyn's side. They begin berating me for acting all pretentious when in reality, I'm despicable enough to do all those underhanded things behind their backs. But that's when my boss, Ethan Keller, leaves a question mark in the group chat. The smug Marilyn begins coercing me into writing a resignation report and returning the money. But what she doesn't know is that the farm is Ethan's private business. How on earth can I receive such commissions, in the first place?

While solving one of the cases, detective Esther Moore comes across a legend that grandmother told her long ago. Soon the line between what is real and what is not gradually blurs. Are the legendary 'Scarlet Angels' real or is Esther losing her mind?