Is Mr. White In Top Late Based On A True Story?

Twelve years of love, loyalty, and promises—shattered in one gunshot moment. Aria thought she knew what love meant: sacrifices, patience, blind faith in the man she'd called her fiancé for over a decade. But on Valentine's Day, with a gun pointed in their direction, Liam instinctively shielded his ex, Sophia—while Aria was left bleeding and invisible. "You almost died!" "And he didn't even look at me, Lili. He wrapped his arms around her like I was nothing." Torn between heartbreak and dignity, Aria makes a bold move—marrying Liam's wealthy rival, Aiden Carter, in an impulsive act of revenge. But Aiden is more than a rebound. He's powerful, possessive, and unexpectedly protective—and he plays for keeps. Now caught between a love that failed her, and a man who may demand more than she's ready to give… Aria's heart faces the ultimate reckoning. Will she finally become someone's first choice—or lose herself trying?

Mercedes Underwood is a lost girl. Lost from her world and herself. She grew up with abusive parents and had a really shitty childhood. Sometimes she believed that they were not her parents much less rassemblements between her and them. When she turned 18 years old, her parents attempt to sell her off to some bad people to pay off their debt. That did not come as a surprise that they would do such a thing and there was no love lost there. But what came as a surprise was when she woke up naked the next morning, walls splattered with blood and four people ripped to shreds. Life went from bad to bloody worse for Mercedes. It was like waking up in a horror scene. She was petrified and confused, nothing made sense but what did make sense was for her to pick up what she can and run. Felix Ransom is the Alpha of the White Claw pack. He leads his pack with an iron fist and ensures everyone's safety and makes sure the pack thrives. But something is missing. The gentle touch of a Luna. Felix is already 25 years old and has not found the one the Moon Goddess chose for him. His other half and mate. Each day without the one for him made his hope of ever finding her wither away. At a point, he even thought that she might have died. It never occurred to him that his made would come right to him much less be a human who is a fugitive for murdering 4 people. Or was she a human being after all?

My mother was a player in a quest. Once her mission was a success, she exited this world, leaving me behind with four fathers. The first was a billionaire CEO. The second was a famous movie star. The third was a world-renowned doctor, while the fourth was incredibly powerful and influential. My four fathers spoiled me rotten for sixteen years, giving me everything I ever wanted. That was until three years ago when Sadie, the daughter of the one that got away, returned. Since then, my four fathers believed her over me. Sadie claimed that my mouth was filthier than a dog’s, so they threw me in the dog kennel and fed me dog food. When she accused me of rallying the other students and bullying her in school, my fathers got me expelled and hired three street gangsters to beat me up for months. Once again, Sadie insisted that I pushed her, and as a consequence, my fathers locked me in a cage for three whole days in the name of teaching me a lesson. As I lay there in hunger, my mother’s voice rang in my ear. “Niamh, do you want to come back to Mommy?”

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

In the eight years since my wife handed our daughter over to her widowed brother-in-law, I went to court eight times. This time, the judge asked me the same question she always did: was I here to sue for custody again? I corrected her. "I'm here to withdraw the suit. I'm giving up custody. I'm agreeing to the divorce." Ten years married to my wife, Vivian Simpson, and eight of those years spent in courtrooms. I'd become the whole city of Northbridge's favorite joke. Now, I'd finally endured enough to let go. From now on, the most spineless man in Northbridge would never have to show his face in front of them again.

For five years, I paved the way for my wife, Samantha Cole. After helping her resolve the company's troubles one last time, I called her and asked, "Darling, I'm so cold. Can you come home and hug me?" On the other end of the phone, Samantha had only just pulled herself away from a moment of intimacy with her young lover, Oliver White. When she finally answered, her voice was impatient. "Joshua Davidson, will it kill you to stop being so dramatic?" Indeed, it would. I slammed the phone down and then died on our bed. Later, Samantha—the woman who had kept me trapped in that lonely house for five years—held my portrait in her arms and finally learned what regret felt like.