Love was the only part of me untouched by blood. The moment she screamed my name, that too was taken. I searched for her in every shadow. Now that I have her again... I'll burn the world before I let her go - Jairo Vitale
Love was the only part of me untouched by blood. The moment she screamed my name, that too was taken. I searched for her in every shadow. Now that I have her again... I'll burn the world before I let her go - Jairo Vitale
The road ahead was long, cold, and eerily quiet. Jairo gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed forward as he pressed on the accelerator.
He was going to tell her today.
He took a right turn, and his gaze flicked to the pink box on the passenger seat. She was going to love it. The color was as innocent as her. Pure and surreal.
The dormitory was silent when he arrived. School had gone on holiday two days ago, but she had stayed behind because of him - to spend more time together while he planned to tell her who he truly was: heir to a Mafia empire.
If she wanted to stay by his side forever, she needed to know what it meant to become the Mafia Queen. He just needed five years. That's all he needed to take over the empire and build a world safe enough for her.
He entered the elevator with the pink box, and reached her floor. Arriving at her door, he paused, noticing it was slightly ajar.
His pulse quickened as he carefully pushed it open, only to see a trail of blood drops on the floor, leading to a blood stained pink cardigan.
He dropped the pink box without thinking and rushed forward to grab the cardigan. It was hers.
He tore through the room in a panic. Most of her roommates were gone, and the silence pressed in.
"Emilia!" he shouted, bursting out of the room. He pulled out his phone to dial her number, but her phone started ringing from inside the room.
He ran through the hallway, desperate, before a muffled scream pierced the air.
He didn't think twice.
He followed the sound, his heart thundering in his chest. It was coming from the second elevator.
"Emilia?!" He slammed his fists on the closed elevator doors, shouting her name, cursing under his breath as he continued to press the buttons.
He didn't waste time going to the other elevator. He turned and bolted down the stairs, two steps at a time, praying for his instincts to be wrong.
Then he reached the bottom.
And froze in horror.
There she was. Inside a black car, banging her fists against the window. Tear-streaked. Terrified.
"Emilia!" he roared, his voice ripping from his throat.
Fear. Pain. Anguish.
Everything hit him all at once.
He sprinted toward the car as it began to move. His fingers instinctively searched his pockets for his car keys only to realize they must have fallen back in the room.
He picked up his pace and ran faster. Her eyes met his through the back window. She was screaming his name.
Then a masked man appeared beside her and jabbed a syringe into her neck.
Jairo watched helplessly as her body went limp, slumping into the seat and disappearing from view completely.
His heart dropped.
"Emilia..." he breathed like a prayer.
His foot struck a stone, and he crashed hard onto the ground. Blood had filled his mouth, but he didn't care.
He pushed himself up and kept running, watching as the car disappeared into the distance. There was no plate number.
No clue.
Nothing but the sound of her voice echoing in his mind.
Aria never expected her life to take a dramatic turn when she's forced to marry Jameson Blackwell-an enigmatic man confined to a wheelchair after experiencing a tragic accident. "This isn't some fairy tale, Aria. Don't fall in love with me, because I'm not going to pretend to care about your feelings." The words hit her like a slap. But guess who ended up falling deeper, became overly protective and silently obsessed? "You're mine. You hear me?!" He growled, his voice raw, dangerous as he moved closer. "No bastard will have you except me." Terror coiled inside her as she stared into his wild, obsessive eyes. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Will she ever be freed from his growing obsession?
In her past life, Emily gave up her life so he could live. Now fate has brought them together again, only this time she has no memories of who she once was but Jackson remembers everything. He had lived through centuries, waiting and watching until the day he finally saw her resurrect. She is like his favorite candy - sweet and irresistible but he is cursed, like a man with diabetes craving what he cannot have. Torn between the pain of his curse and the pull of his love, he decided to push her away thinking it was to protect her. Emily loves her mate with all her heart. She would do anything to keep him by her side. But after years of enduring his coldness and harshness, he suddenly became gentle and nice. The shift leaves her wondering what could have happened to him, just after she had made up her mind to leave him.
Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"
I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.
Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."
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