Novels by Jiceryl

SOFIA’s POVI didn’t wait for Rios after the flight. I went straight to my bedroom and hurled some clothes into the suitcase.I felt so mad inside, but I wasn’t going to say that in front of his face. I already told him I called Mina and the two of us were going somewhere. My clothes looked wrinkled and uneven, but I didn’t care. My passport sat open on the desk beside my phone. One word blinked at me from the itinerary email: Spain. I had to breathe. I had to remind myself to continue existing outside of him.The door swung open hard. Then Rios's voice cracked through the silence like glass. "You're going where?"I didn’t turn. "Spain."He stepped in, closing the door with a thud. "Now? After everything that just happened? We just came back from the Tribunal."I zipped the suitcase halfway. "Exactly because of everything that just happened.""Sofia, you can’t do this. You're still legally bound to me. And the contract—""Yes, I know," I snapped. "And I am not running away, okay? But

The funeral passed quietly. The Sandoval estate, tucked behind high iron gates and hedges too well-groomed for grief, saw only a handful of visitors. Men in charcoal suits exchanged brief nods as women in their black dresses stood side by side. Many of those who attended Beatrice Sandoval’s last farewell were old associates, syndicate men, and loyalists who owed their lives or fortunes to Rodulf. There were no sobs and no flowery speeches. The grieving father only saw grim faces and a sky too blue for a coffin where his daughter lay. Rodulf stood still, his hand resting on the coffin's edge. He didn’t blink as it was lowered into the earth. The priest mumbled something about peace and eternal light, but Rodulf heard only a voice from years ago. He could hear the younger and brighter version of his daughter. She was a brat indeed, but at least she was alive.“Daddy, please! There's nothing I want to marry with, only Rios. You have to find a way for him and me to get married.”She was

Rios walked beside his wife and felt like he was leading a queen into the throng of people beneath the stairs. Her delicate hand rested lightly on his arm, and the mask simmering under the ballroom lights hid the bruises on her pretty face. He had managed to convince her to come with him to this last event of the annual tribunal, and he was prouder than ever to call her his. The silk of her gown clung beautifully to her curves, and—God, her eyes—were the only thing in the room that kept him grounded. He had seen many beautiful women. He had watched them crawl through diamonds and power, but Sofia had that gaze that automatically pulled every eye in the room. Just like what was happening now. As they stepped into the masquerade, everyone turned. Even the big Mafia bosses nodded at every step they took. They were looking at her. He felt proud of his wife, but his fingers still tensed against her arm. Every fucking one of them seemed to be undressing her—and not even pretending they we

SOFIA’S POVThe sheets felt like velvet against my raw skin, but every movement sent sparks of pain shooting up my ribs.Violet bruises were still decorating my arms, and deep purple and sickly yellow could be seen in some areas of my thighs and face. These were souvenirs from Beatrice's goons before the duel. And when I fought with Beatrice, my lower lip was split and felt tender to the touch. One eye still refused to open fully. It still looked puffed and angry that I refused to look at the mirror. Other bruises had also started to bloom darkly over my ribs and arms, purpling my thighs, and feathering my jawline. I barely recognized myself.And I remembered.I remembered the girl who used to flinch from her own reflection. The girl with the crooked, ugly nose, and the girl whose cheek had been carved by a childhood accident. I left my hometown and found a guy who financed my whims, then I had surgeries later. Back then, before the surgical operation, I hated every inch of my face.

A voice thundered from the head of the tribunal table. "You are given a choice. Become officially part of the Mafia or—"But before the threat could settle, Sofia’s voice cut through the thick, suffocating air. "No," she said sharply as her fists clenched at her sides. "I just did what I needed to do."Sasha looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with Aunt Rita as they listened to Sofia's voice filling the place. Sasha felt a knot forming in her stomach. Why would Sofia turn down an offer that would surely shield her against the Sandovals’ wrath? Just earlier, Sofia had survived the duel against that spoiled Mafia heiress, Beatrice. The bitch was finally dead—not by their hands, but it didn’t matter. Rios’s contract wife had done it for them. Relief flickered in Sasha’s chest, but it tangled with a gnawing worry. Surely, Beatrice’s death was bound to blow up the tension between the Sandovals and their family. Across the field, Rios was already leading Sofia out, cradling her like she

SOFIA’s POVI woke up in a cell. Concrete walls, gray and sweating with cold, welcomed my vision. When I looked around, I only saw a single steel bed bolted to the floor. There was also one toilet in the corner. It was clean, but rust was forming around its edges. My wrists were chained to the wall, heavy and short enough that I couldn’t sit up straight. Also, my face throbbed. Each pulse sent a sharp and steady ache in my jaw and my cheekbones. I then remembered the two men in masks. Their knuckles cracked before they landed their blows. They made sure to knock the breath out of me, again and again, until all I could do was gasp and fade. Then I remembered the wooden box after that. I felt I was floating before fading out again.And now, I was in a cell.“Help!” I shouted. “Somebody… help me!” But only the echoes of my voice answered my call.Suddenly, the metal door creaked. I flinched and felt a slight relief upon seeing my husband.“Oh, babe,” he whispered as he stepped inside, c