Surprise Attack Synonym Novels & Stories

On our wedding night, my husband Grayson's sister-in-law, Scarlette, stumbled drunkenly into our bridal suite and threw her arms around him, refusing to let go. "Kayla, my husband died young, and I really just want a child. Please, lend him to me for one night," she cried through her tears, shoving a toy into my hand. "I promise I'll return him tomorrow. And if you get lonely… you can use this to comfort yourself." I stood there, dumbfounded, my gaze shifting in confusion to Grayson, who was already helping Scarlette steady herself. "You're really going to sleep with her?" He avoided my eyes, his tone strangely urgent. "Don't overthink it. She's drunk and talking nonsense. I'll take her back to her room to rest." As he started to leave with her, I stepped in front of them, blocking their way. "Grayson, it's our wedding night tonight. Are you seriously going to walk out with her?" His expression darkened as he pushed me aside. "You're my wife now—try to be more sensible. Don't get jealous over something so trivial." Then, carefully, he guided her out of the room. I wanted to run after him and stop them, but when I saw the deep concern in his eyes as he looked at her, the truth finally hit me. The love this man had for me was no longer mine alone. And if that was the case, why should I cling to a marriage that had already soured? I might as well walk away with my head held high.

My fated mate, Alpha Baton, had once shackled his bloodlust for me. He’d built a corporate empire from the ashes of his bloody conquests, all to give me a civilized home. Even when my father was framed for murdering the brother of his first love, Seraphina, he held me gently. "Don't worry, Tricia. I'll face this with you." But on the day of the trial, my father was condemned as a murderer and exiled to the North. And Baton? He was celebrating, with his arm wrapped around Seraphina. I hunted down the witness, demanding answers, only to find him trembling as he stared at Baton, who stood right behind me. It was Baton. He had threatened the witness into lying. He was willing to destroy my father, just to make Seraphina happy. "Seraphina's brother is dead. Someone has to pay the price." The mate bond between us didn't just snap—it shattered. Agony ripped through my soul. If I meant nothing to him, our marking ceremony was a promise. And now, it was one I had to break.

Two of New York’s most powerful Cosa Nostra dons, Vincent Luciano and Nick Valentino, made a brutal wager over me. The terms were simple: whoever won my heart first would win the right to marry Seraphina Moretti, the sole heir to the Moretti crime syndicate. The ruthless Vincent swept me into his Fifth Avenue penthouse, lavishing me with luxuries all of New York would kill for. Cold, reserved Nick played the lovesick fool, kneeling beneath the moonlight over the Hudson to swear he’d give me a safe life, free from this world’s bloodshed and chaos. I said yes. But the second we stepped into Vincent’s oak-paneled study, Nick’s warmth turned frigid. “Vincent, we had a deal. I’ve won the Moretti marriage.” In my past life, I was discarded by both men, betrayed by my family, and left to die of a forced heroin overdose. Now I’ve been reborn. And this time, I still said yes to Nick’s proposal... But everything would be totally different.

Once I get reborn, the first thing I will do is swap mates with my cousin, Clara Evonfall. In my previous life, Clara and I had held our mate-bonding ceremonies on the same day. Clara, a docile and gentle she-wolf, was forced to become the mate of Gilbert Vargas, the cold and aloof Alpha of the Bloodthorn pack. On their bonding anniversary, Gilbert abandoned Clara just so he could be with his childhood sweetheart, Joanna Penning. Because of that incident, Clara and Gilbert gave each other the cold shoulder for the next 50 years. As for me, I've dreamed of becoming a Gamma warrior since I was a pup. But I ended up forming a mate bond with Oliver Stanton, a Beta playboy. Oliver disliked me for not being romantic enough, saying that I didn't know how to doll myself up for him. We argued with each other every day to the point that he rarely came home. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Clara and I have returned to the timeframe of two days before our bonding ceremonies.

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

My husband, Gavin Chapman, is giving his secretary, Natasha Gardner, exactly what she wants. He's making her his wife. To pull it off, he fakes a lab accident, pretends to have amnesia, and brings her home. In his office, Gavin wraps his arms around Natasha and murmurs indulgently, "Not just Mrs. Chapman. Even if you want to pretend to be the vice president for a week, I'll let you." My eyes dim, but I let the lie go on. The next day, at a press conference, Gavin holds Natasha's hand and tells the world she's his real wife. He even threatens to kick me out of the company and take over all my research data. Dozens of cameras swivel toward me, waiting for my outburst. But I stay silent and simply sign the termination papers. Gavin doesn't know that the pharmaceutical project he believes will be done in seven days isn't quite finished. There's still one final step, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it.

My best friend is bound to a trade system—she can force a swap with me three times. At 13, she takes my heart. At 18, she takes my SAT scores. And now, for the final swap, she wants my entire identity. I hide under the covers, unable to hold back a laugh. My villa is rented, and my family background is totally fake. Go ahead, bestie. Swap away! This time, I really hope you don't hold back.

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.”

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."

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.