How Old Was Mary Flora Bell When She Was Convicted?

When the power meter in the house trips, Mom's foster daughter, Juniper Hawthorne, is trapped in the dark for five minutes. Even though I have claustrophobia, Mom locks me in an empty, pitch-black room. "You knew Juniper was terrified of the dark, yet you intentionally shut off the power just to frighten her! I'll teach you how to behave today!" I cry and beg her not to, but all I receive in return is a harsh slap. "Claustrophobia? That's just what happens when a kid grows up too spoiled." Late that night, I sense someone breaking into the house. The first thing I do is to call Mom, a renowned criminal psychologist, for help, only to be yelled at. "You're still really getting into this role just to fight Juniper for attention, aren't you? "Kidnappers, huh? Well, go ahead and die so you'll stop bothering me!" As she wishes, I'm brutally tortured and killed. My body is buried beneath Mom's favorite flowerbed. After I die, my soul is trapped in the body of a cat. All I can do is helplessly circle Mom until five days have passed. The police arrive with a mangled body and request her help in creating a portrait of the killer.

For five years, I let my husband’s mistress take whatever she wanted. My birthday. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a damaged family still had to be better than none at all. It wasn’t. This year, my husband took his mistress away for their birthday trip, and my son ran straight into her arms and called her Mom. That was the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago: no matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be the one they chose. So I filed for divorce. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing. His mistress thought she had won. My son did not even look back. None of them believed I could really walk away. Then a call came from overseas: Matteo Bellandi’s wife was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.

Bellatrix, which means female warrior in Latin, is a modern day warrior woman. Her story starts when she decides to escape years of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse from her stepfather and the men he sold her to. She endured this suffering to protect her younger brother, who depended on her since their mother was a sex worker battling addiction. At the age of eighteen, she made a plan to leave and successfully escaped her hometown. Bellatrix became known as the 'Runaway Prostitute.' She found her brother and her a safe place in a lovely small town, where they enjoyed two years of happiness and peace. Everything seemed perfect until she fell deeply in love with her best friend's brother, a billionaire businessman. What she hoped would be a fairytale romance turned into a nightmare, bringing more drama and pain into her life. After a misunderstanding, she fled without leaving a trace of her whereabouts but returned a year later with her daughter, feeling more independent and stronger than ever. However, she foolishly opened her heart again, allowing her first love to betray her. Running away had always seemed like the best option, but this time around, she had people who loved and supported her, encouraging her to face her challenges. During her healing journey, she meets someone who believes that they are soulmates. Could he help melt her frozen heart?

My grandfather, Tanner Kane, valued loyalty above all else. When his adopted daughter, Alanna Meyer, was sentenced to death for murder, he sent my mother, Florence Kane, to her death. All to preserve the bloodline of his late childhood friend. Alanna took my mother's name, married, and lived a privileged life free from hardship. Meanwhile, my mother died carrying a crime she never committed. My father, Graham Hart, and I changed our names and wandered from place to place. For years, I was mocked as a motherless child. Forty years later, after enduring humiliation and dedicating myself to my studies, I became a judge in Arbor Falls. Today, I am presiding over a controversial campus murder case in which the victim fell to her death from a building. There were no surveillance cameras. Only two girls were present, and each insists the other is the killer. One of them, Nova, comes from a poor family. Her parents are divorced, and she associates with local delinquents. She is known throughout the school as a feared bully. The other one, Scarlett, comes from a wealthy family. Her parents have a loving marriage, and she excels academically. Her grandmother is a beautiful and kind-hearted artist. Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work and was recognized as a nationally renowned philanthropist. Everyone believes she is a good girl who would never lie, so Nova the bully must be the killer. However, when I looked at the name listed under Scarlett's grandmother, I saw my mother's name: Florence Kane. Without a second thought, I turned to the person beside me and said, "Reject her request for acquittal."

Clara used to be the beloved daughter of the Alpha family of the River Moon Pack until they left her to rot in Hellwolf Prison for five years for a crime she didn’t commit. Her brother promised it would only be two months. By the time Clara is finally released, the girl who entered Hellwolf Prison is gone. Her wolf has fallen silent, her fated mate rejected her, and the family who once adored her has given everything she loved to Rose, their true daughter and the woman Clara sacrificed herself to protect. River Moon is no longer Clara’s home. It is another prison filled with people who believe she is a murderer. But when the Lycan King and his son arrive at River Moon, they don’t find the perfect Luna waiting for them. They find Clara.

Everyone believed I was the perfect good girl. Yet no one knew that every night, right under the nose of Blackport's most ruthless mafia Don, I was tangled up with his heir and my own stepbrother. It was not until the fifth year of our secret affair that I overheard him speaking with his right‑hand man, Carlo Vitale, through the cracked door of the casino's top‑floor office. "Boss, you deflowered your own stepsister when she was 18. You've been stringing her along for 5 years, and you're still not going to make it official?" My heart clenched. Quietly, desperately, I waited for Giuliano Falcone's answer. Giuliano flicked his custom Zippo open and shut, smiling like he did not care. "You said it yourself. She's a dirty little secret. How would you even bring that into the light? "If it weren't for getting back at her harlot of a mother for destroying my family, I never would've touched her. "I've already proposed to Viviana. Only a Moretti Principessa is fit to stand as the Madre of the Falcone family." I did not break down. I did not storm in and demand answers. I pretended I had heard nothing, turned around, and walked into the darkness. On the day of Giuliano and Viviana Moretti's wedding, he stationed his suited Soldati at every entrance to the venue, terrified I would show up and cause a scene. What he did not know was that I was already sitting in first class on a flight to Bellavista, and I was never coming back.