True Crime Novels & Stories

Description: It was a beautiful and sunny day in a small town called Willows Creek. Every one was friendly and kind towards each other. Until that fateful day, their life was no longer the same again. A couple of friends was walking home from school, one of them mentioned they should take a short home. Naomi said, there is a sign that read NO TRESPASSING. Who gives gives a fuck about it said Michael. C'mon on guys I see our house from here said Omar, true agreed Sora. The gang were talking and laughing along their way home. Without knowing someone or something was watching them.

Iseoluwa, a cold hearted guy returned home to avenge the brutal killings of his family that took place sixteen years ago. Staying in a foreign country at such a young age played a huge role in his finding solace in reading various novels on disorders. The scene of his family being brutalized was forever engraved in his memory. The thought alone was heart wrenching. Iseoluwa decided to avenge their deaths. Having gathered extremely smart people, he returned to Nigeria.However, things he didn't plan for took charge. He was framed of murders and the police got into action. The scheme became tougher. Why wouldn't it? What crime case remained the same when Ewawummi was in charge? An uptight lady officer who found pleasure in locking criminals behind the bars.Read as the game fully began. In a manipulative world like this, how far would Ewawummi go with her uptight nature?

Cristill, the female lead has grown in hands of a childless couple. She hates the fact that her father is no more. Suddenly, she came to know about her true identity. She is the long lost daughter of the most feared Mafia Gang Leader. She has chosen revenge instead of her life. Cristill is ready to marry Vincenzo for the sake of taking her revenge. "Vincenzo killed my mother?", I shouted in shock. She is seeking towards her Real Father for taking the revenge. But why? What did her father do?

I was the princess of the Moretti family, but in my past life, I ended up with my hands and feet bound, tossed to the bottom of a river. All because my parents, my brothers, and even my fiancé were obsessed with Fiona—the sweet-faced, manipulative bitch they’d adopted. My oldest brother, Lorenzo, would say, “Stay away from Fiona. She’s not like you—savage and vicious.” My second brother, Marco, would say, “This couture gown is for Fiona. It would be a waste on you.” And my fiancé, Albert Falcone, told me, “I love Fiona’s soul. This engagement with you? It’s just business.” But I was reborn. On the night of my engagement party with Albert. And this time, I got a “Slap-Back System.” 【The moment the host effectively strikes back against her bullies, achieving a true slap-down, she will be rewarded with billions in wealth and supreme power.】 I laughed. And with one shove, I sent the towering champagne pyramid crashing to the floor. “This whole ‘mafia princess’ gig? I’m done with it.”

During the pack's wilderness training, my adopted sister, Tessa, shoved me from a cliffside thick with wolfsbane. My Alpha, Fenrir, turned and left with Tessa feigning injury in his arms, leaving me for dead at the bottom of the ravine. I died instantly, but my soul lingered, watching everything with cold detachment. I watched as Tessa's tearful complaints swayed him into blaming me for my own disappearance. "Will Selene ever stop causing me trouble?" "She's weak and always looking for trouble. How could she possibly be fit to be our Luna?" He had no idea I was already dead at the bottom of that cliff choked with wolfsbane. Five whole days. The poison hit my bloodstream like liquid fire, racing through my veins with merciless speed. As my body decayed under the moonlight, my love for him faded with it. The title of Luna, the magnificent coronation I had dreamed of, everything I once cherished was now meaningless. The Selene who loved him was well and truly dead.

Fear  Noun 1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension, consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Until that night, Kinsley never knew true fear, never felt terror. She could taste the fear on her tongue, salty with a hint of copper, her throat felt constricted. She wanted to scream but the terror was too thick in her throat, coating it to the point of near suffocation. She was prey and he was the hunter who never failed. Verendus was powerful, a ruthless and cruel Boss, he did not fail and he did not quit. Kinsley Anderson was a woman he coveted, and he would stop at nothing to claim her. He had the means and the manpower to pursue her to the ends of the earth and he would do it, claiming her once and for all.

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

On the third anniversary of our engagement, my fiancé—Dominic Corleone, heir to one of the most powerful Mafia dynasties in New York—told me he was not ready to form a new family so that our wedding would have to postpone. I told myself to wait for some time, the bond between the Corleones and the Valentinos—our families’ sacred alliance—would hold us together. But what followed were his endless betrayals and tortures. I walked into a bridal boutique and saw him laughing with Liliane, the childhood friend who always lingered too close. I watched him destroy the wedding gown I had spent months designing—then crush my hand beneath his heel until it bled. And when I thought I had hit rock bottom, he proved I was wrong—by getting behind the wheel and running me down. He thought I’d beg and cling to him, terrified of losing the Corleone name and privilege that came with it. But instead, I made one phone call and insisted firmly on canceling the engagement. However, that call didn’t just end a marriage arrangement. It unearthed a secret that had been buried for over a decade…and turned a marriage born of duty into a story of dark devotion.

The housekeeper’s daughter, Selena Greene, deliberately chose to get married on the same day, at the same hotel as me. When our cars passed each other on the way to our weddings, she rolled down her window and asked to switch my bridal bouquet with hers. My bouquet, however, wasn’t just any bouquet. It was hand-carved from priceless jadeite by my grandfather himself—a one-of-a-kind heirloom and his blessing for my wedding day. “Trish,” she pleaded softly, “please. I’ve sacrificed so much for this wedding. I just want it to be perfect. I’ll give it back to you as soon as we get out of the cars.” My heart softened. Against my better judgment, I handed her my bouquet and took her cheap, plastic flowers instead. However, when we stepped out of our cars, she refused to return it. Worse still, during her ceremony, she tossed my jade bouquet onto the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. That bouquet had been my grandfather’s way of being present at my wedding. It was all I had left of him. Yet, in front of everyone, Selena put on an innocent act and accused me, “Who takes back a bouquet after a switch? A glass bouquet like this is all over online shopping platforms for ten bucks. I’ll just pay you back. Trish, you’ve made my life hard enough on normal days. Do you have to humiliate me on the most important day of my life, too?” Furious, I confronted her, but she ducked behind my fiancé and my brother, wiping at her eyes like the victim. My fiancé immediately went to comfort her, leaving me standing alone at the ceremony, humiliated and ridiculed by everyone. My brother, too, called me cruel and heartless. He cut me off financially and threw me out of the family home. Selena’s husband, having quickly risen to success with the help of powerful backers, unleashed his relentless revenge on the now penniless and alone me. In the dead of winter, hired thugs found me and brutalized me to death. And Selena? She became their princess, adored by all three of them. I sank into darkness, full of rage and regret. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day of the wedding.