Are There Any Sequels To The Dead Cat?

After years of living abroad without children, I decided to return home to handle my inheritance matters. However, before I could step into my house, I was stopped by a group of people at the entrance. The woman leading the group pointed at me and started screaming. "I can't believe someone as young as you is seducing a man old enough to be your father! How disgusting can you be?" I watched her, noticing how much she resembled my older brother, and I was shaking with rage. They pulled out my fingernails, broke my ribs, and slashed my face, dragging me around the neighborhood as I begged for mercy. Yet, they remained indifferent to my pleas. Just as I was on the verge of losing hope, my brother, Edward Grange rushed over.  Through a mouthful of blood, I managed to choke out, "Ed, I’d rather die than let her inherit my inheritance…”

I'm five months pregnant. One day, I leave the house to do some grocery shopping. As I wait at a red light, I see a woman kiss my husband. I follow them in shock, snapping to my senses when I hear the screeching of a car's brakes. I get into an accident and end up comatose, losing my child in the process. Not only does my husband not care for me, but he even has his lover move in with him proudly. The moment I wake up, they panic.

After my younger sister suffered an allergic reaction from eating the food I cooked, my husband flew into a rage. He grabbed a whole crate of red wine from the house, pinned me down, and forced it into my mouth. "You should feel Rosie's pain too!" Soon, red rashes spread across my body, and my throat began to swell. On the brink of death, I begged him to call an ambulance, but he locked me in the room instead. "Take your time and enjoy it. Only when you suffer enough will you stop hurting others." In despair, I felt my throat closing, and my skin itching unbearably as if pierced by needles. I scratched my skin until there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left. Three days later, he finally decided to show mercy and make it up to me with a candlelit dinner. "I bet you have learned your lesson. As long as you behave from now on, you'll still be Mrs. Henderson." However, he would never see me again. By then, my body had already turned to ashes.

When the earthquake hit, I found myself buried under the rubble, barely clinging to life. My wife, Meghan Hudson, charges into the collapsing office building without hesitation. However, the person she rescues is Gerald Parker, the new technical specialist at my company. Even as she hurries away with the rescue team, she doesn't spare me a single glance. Severely crushed and bleeding heavily, I'm rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. Yet, Meghan pours all her care and attention into Gerald, who barely has a scratch on him. In the end, I'm completely disheartened and pull out the divorce papers. Meghan goes berserk and tears them to shreds, thinking I'll give in like I always did. What she doesn't know is that this time, I'm truly exhausted.

“Why would I reject you? We are mates. Tell me why.” he demanded to know. “I am an omega. They say my mother was banished. I have been an omega for as long as I can remember,” I told him and felt shame wash over me as I twiddled with my fingers. He let out a low growl and caused me to recoil into the corner of the bed. “Victoria, I assure you that I will do nothing. Those who have harmed you in any way will be dealt with accordingly. Mark my words,” he said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. Victoria is nineteen years old and unwanted in the Red Moon Pack. She’s just the Omega Girl that nobody wanted. Beaten and scolded daily, she sees no end to her pain and no way out. When she meets her future mate, she is sure he will reject her too. Most of the werewolves get their wolves when they hit eighteen, but here she is, 19 years old and still not got her wolf or shifted. Of course, the pack found it to be yet another reason to treat her like trash, beating and bullying her. Except she’s not just an omega girl. Victoria is about to find out who she really is, and things are about to change. Will Victoria realize her worth and see she is worthy to be loved? What will happen when her sworn enemy, Eliza, vows to take everything from Victoria?

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”