Is Peter Doyle A Real Person Or A Fictional Character?

I faked my own death to escape a killer surgeon. Then I saved a mafia boss's brother and became his prisoner. I thought I was safe hiding in the shadows. Then Frank Costello dragged his dying brother into my clinic with a gun to my head: "Save him or die trying." Now I'm trapped in his world. Three months of service, he says. Treat his men, ask no questions, and he'll give me enough money to disappear forever. But Frank Costello doesn't play fair. He knows my secrets. He knows I'm running from a murderer who thinks I'm dead. And when that killer finds me again, Frank makes me an offer I can't refuse: Stay with him, let him protect me. The price? My freedom, my principles, my heart. I'm a healer. He's a killer. We're on opposite sides of every line that matters. But when the man I'm running from comes back for blood, Frank Costello might be the only thing standing between me and a bullet. The question isn't whether I'll fall for him. It's whether I'll survive long enough to regret it.

Excerpt; "Mr Donovan." "You can call me D." "D." "Uh huh. Look at me, will you?" She met his gaze again. "I don't want to be your girlfriend." She told him. His smirk returned. "I know. But I don't care. The choice isn't yours. This is not up for debate. And please-" His pause caused her a great deal of worry as he took her chin in his hand, pinning her with an austere gaze. "Do not say that again." -------------------------------- LOGLINE: Boma, a reserved freshman accustomed to a quiet life, has to navigate the overpowering interest of Donovan, a dominant third-year student with a dangerous reputation, in order to maintain her peace and resist his early marriage plans. *** Now on Amazon Kindle. (171 Chapters only). You won't regret reading this book. It's the most uncliche love story. Main Genre: Dark Romance. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE HEART FOR SUCH. OTHERWISE, Happy Reading! Sincerely PG

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family. One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids. Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing. “Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?” “That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.” Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed. “If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.” “But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.” “Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.” My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand. He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall. He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean. Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows. He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago. He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea. I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

I've gotten reborn on the night before Christmas. The first thing I do is send my boss, Jack Davenport, a resignation letter. Then, I board the next flight to Coral Bay for my vacation. In my previous lifetime, my colleague, Julie Trent, had called me when I was on vacation. She told me that the numbers on the account ledgers wouldn't add up, and the IRS would be conducting its audit soon. That was why she pleaded with me to save her. After hearing Julie's pleas, I boarded the earliest flight back to the city before hurrying back to my company. There, I double-checked all the accounts, leading to the discovery of the deficit in the accounts. So, I used my own money to pay off the deficit, allowing the company to pass the IRS' audit process. Even so, the submission of our accounts went past the deadline, resulting in the company receiving a fine. Julie decided to pin the blame on me. "There's a deficit in the accounts because Annie wanted to secretly embezzle the company's funds!" I quickly explained everything to Jack. But the very same boss, who used to be understanding and rational, just looked at me. "I thought you were on a vacation, Annie. Why did you return to the company all of a sudden? Did you plan on making the company suffer from a deficit in the accounts right before the IRS audit just because you're about to switch companies? "Anyway, you're the one causing the financial loss, to begin with. That's why you must compensate the company for the loss!" Later on, Jack hired the best lawyer and took me to court, completely disregarding whatever relationship we had as employer and employee. In the end, I lost the lawsuit, which meant I had to pay double the compensation to my company. On top of that, Jack even spread the word so that no one in the same industry would hire me. After that, I sold all of my assets, yet I still couldn't gather enough money to clear the debt. So, I could only take on the grungiest and lowliest of all jobs. As I couldn't eat my fill for a long period of time while having to take on huge amounts of work, I ended up dying from exhaustion in the end.

I was sent to a correctional facility by my family for five years. The first thing I learned there was obedience. If people told me to do one thing, I would never dare do anything else. The day my wife, Casey Anderson, came to pick me up, she stood at the entrance and said coldly, "If you dare say another bad word about Roger, I'll make sure you never speak again." The moment she finished speaking, I turned and ran straight into traffic. When she saw me get thrown by the impact of the car, she nearly lost her footing. At the hospital, my foster brother stood beside my bed with a sinister smile. "So you actually managed to survive. But that's fine. I have plenty of ways to kill you and make sure you never make it home." After saying that, he smashed the bowl of porridge onto the floor, then deliberately fell onto the shattered glass as he cried out loudly, "Bobby, if you hate me that much, I'll leave! Please, just let me go!" My mother and Casey happened to walk in at that exact moment. Casey immediately rushed over to help Roger up. My mother, meanwhile, slapped me hard across the face. "You'll never change, huh? If Roger's hand is ruined because of you and he can't play the piano anymore, I'd rather see you dead in this hospital bed." Obediently, I walked toward the window and jumped. The harsh, sharp-tongued woman who had always been my mother—and Casey as well—went completely pale with fear. I happened to crash onto my father's car. Trembling, he threw open the door and shouted for the medical staff. My consciousness gradually faded. Then, a system suddenly appeared and said, "Congratulations, Host. You have completed ninety-nine tragic storylines. Finish this final one, and you will be able to return to your original world and revive your younger sister."