Lana Adler

Elizabeth Taylor gave Sofia Roth a subtle nod, as if to calm her, before turning her full attention to Cloe. Her gaze was sharp, unforgiving. "This is not your home, Cloe." The words slammed into Cloe like a blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She froze, her body stiffening as the weight of the moment settled over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Elizabeth cut her off, her voice like a blade slicing through Cloe's hope. "Meet Ethan's fiancée, Sofia." The words hit Cloe like a thunderclap, a shock so violent it felt as if lightning had struck her to the core. Her body stiffened, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so loud it echoed in her ears. Fiancée? Ethan's fiancée? Her eyes darted to Sofia, who stepped forward with a cruel smile, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yes. Fiancée. I'm pregnant with Ethan's child." Cloe's world shattered. The words slammed into her with the force of a thousand storms, and she staggered backward as if physically struck. Her knees buckled, her hands clutching her chest, her breathing shallow and ragged. Pregnant? With Ethan's child? -------- Cloe was not ready to give up. So she received a sex tape from Sofia Roth. A sex Tape The man's face was deliberately obscured, lying back on the bed, while Sofia's naked body moved atop him, her large breasts bouncing as she rode him with exaggerated enthusiasm. Sofia's face, however, was clear. Her eyes locked onto the camera with an unmistakable awareness of what she was doing. Her moans were loud, theatrical, and filled with purpose. She threw her head back, calling out, "Oh, Ethan... love it, babe." The hands of the man beneath her, though blurred and devoid of identity, reached up to grip Sofia's breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Sofia's moans grew louder, her voice filled with pleasure as she called out again, "Ethan, baby... you're the best." ------ Three years later. She stepped cautiously into her apartment, her heart racing as she noticed the dark figure seated on the living room sofa. The shadows of the room made it hard to make out who it was. Her breath caught in her throat as she instinctively gripped her bag tighter. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. The figure stirred, slowly rising to his feet. Ethan, unable to believe his eyes, stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. It was her. Cloe-his Cloe-right there in front of him. The woman he had thought lost forever. She took a step forward, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she asked again, her voice firmer now. Ethan felt like the world had stopped moving. The woman standing before him, looking at him as if he were a stranger-how could she not know? His emotions collided within him, confusion, shock, and an overwhelming sense of longing. "I... I am your husband," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with disbelief. She froze, her face contorting in shock. "My husband?" she repeated, disbelief lacing her words. She took a step back, her confusion deepening. "Who are you? And what kind of joke is this?" She refused to recognize him.

Armin Rodríguez Suegra is the only heir among one of the most powerful and rich Nobel listed families worldwide. When he was just three years old, he developed emotions for the breathtaking Seraphina Holland. Armin has given it much thought and decided that his best choice is Seraphina Holland. Armin was hopelessly smitten with Seraphina Holland all his life. Armin claimed Seraphina was meant to be his. Should I not have her, no one else can have her. Armin broke the family and everyone else to marry Seraphina and formally name her Mrs. Rodríguez. Armin's family was disappointed but was unable to inform him a big secret meanwhile. A few years later, to Armin's surprise, a gorgeous royal blood princess graced his life. But the shocking Truth was the royal princess was his real wife. Armin found the disclosure shocking and confusing. Armin already had too late to learn all his family had been keeping from him. Seraphina was never his wife? He was actually married to a beautiful princess? Armin found it shocking. He was depressed since he felt let down by all around him. The royal princess is indeed quite beautiful, unmatched. But the situation gets more worse when Armin's uncle, Ivan Anderson Suegra steps into The princess's Life without any notification. The jealousy mixed with anger consumed Armin. Who then was meant to be Armin's wife from birth? Beautiful and mysterious princess or Seraphina Holland? Who was really born to be mine? Claiming back his missing wife!

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

I didn't mean to call my boss. I definitely didn't mean to leave a seven-minute voicemail of dirty secrets about him. Working for Ruslan Oryolov is the job from hell. The man is impossible-demanding, arrogant, and way too gorgeous for his own good. After eighteen months of fetching his coffee and swallowing my pride, all I wanted was one night of stress relief. But the billionaire CEO of Bane Corporation isn't just a boss from hell. He's the head of the Oryolov Bratva-and now that he's heard every secret I never meant to share, he's decided to claim me. His contract. His rules. His protection for my three orphaned nieces and nephews-the only reason I'm signing my life away to a man I should fear. He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now he wants my soul.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

I hid my identity as the heiress of a top-tier wealthy family just to build a normal, quiet life with my fiancé, Jefferey. We had just picked out our dream villa, but a sudden bank notification shattered my illusion. The entire $7.8 million from our joint trust fund had been wired to a woman named Jessie Barr. When I hacked into his synced tablet, the truth hit me like a truck. Jessie wasn't just a stranger; she was his secret lover. They even had a four-year-old son who shared Jefferey's exact eyes. "The money is in your account. Our future is secure now. I'll leave her soon." Reading his messages to her, I realized my three years of devotion were nothing but a long con. I was just the final "project" he needed to fund his real family. He used my resources, my connections, and my money to build a life in the shadows with his true love, treating me like a naive piggy bank he could discard at any moment. I had given up my absolute power for a man who fed me nothing but lies. But Jefferey forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just some helpless woman he could ruin. I calmly closed my laptop and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years. "Mom, I was wrong. I'm ready to accept the Romero family's marriage alliance." It was time to gut his company and take everything he owned.

Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family. But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin. They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission. One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything. She hadn't wandered off as a child. Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth. They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen. Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change. He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction. He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find. The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest. "Lock down my trust fund?" She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance. Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.

"They say the dead don't come back. But I did. And I brought hell with me." Aria Moretti was supposed to die seven years ago when her entire mafia family was slaughtered in a brutal massacre. Instead, she escaped pregnant, alone, and marked for death. She fled to Lagos, gave birth in hiding, and spent seven years transforming from a sheltered princess into something far more dangerous. Now she's back in New York. Not for forgiveness. For blood. But her return puts her on a tight spot with Dante Russo the man she once loved and was forced to betray. He's no longer the loyal soldier from her father's organization. He's built himself into a billionaire empire while secretly ruling the city's underworld. Powerful. Ruthless. Unforgettable. And he's never forgiven her for disappearing. When Dante discovers Aria is alive, he should kill her for the betrayal he thinks she committed. Instead, he makes her an offer she can't refuse: Marry me. Six months. No questions asked. He needs a wife to legitimize his business expansion. She needs his protection to hunt her family's killer. It's purely transactional. A marriage of convenience. Nothing more. As they're forced into close contact, old attraction reignites into something explosive. Assassination attempts bring them together. Shared danger builds unexpected trust. And co-parenting the son Dante is just getting to know creates moments of tenderness neither expected. But as Aria gets closer to discovering who ordered the massacre, the lies holding their marriage together begin to crumble. A traitor is in Dante's organization. A jealous ex-lover plots to destroy their alliance. And Vincent Carozza Aria's godfather and the man she suspects killed her family is closing in for the final strike.

For our third wedding anniversary, I wore the thin floral dress my husband demanded and made his favorite traditional broth. I just wanted to be the perfect Mafia wife. But halfway up a freezing mountain, he played a voice message from his secretary. "Leave her on the roadside. Take her phone and coat. Let's see if she crawls back begging on her knees." To my absolute horror, my husband actually pulled over, dragged me out into the dirt, and drove away. He left me at nine degrees below zero. When I nearly died in the snow instead of begging, he launched a vicious smear campaign. He claimed I abandoned him to sleep with the groundskeeper who saved my life. He filed for a Syndicate divorce, demanding my dowry back and threatening to crush my father's business if I didn't surrender. While I scrubbed diner floors to survive, his secretary moved into my penthouse and wore my diamond anniversary necklace. They thought the freezing cold and poverty would break my spirit. They thought I was just a fragile, disposable pawn who would eventually cave to his power. But they didn't know I had the hidden dashcam footage of that night. As I walked into the Mafia Tribunal, I looked at his arrogant face and prepared to show the Dons exactly what kind of coward my husband truly was.

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire. On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own. "Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy." My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry. He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance. I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever. Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network. The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun.