Patty Hearst: Her Own Story

In order to save her dying brother, Kirsten Lewis entered a transactional marriage with Matthew Roosevelt. Considering the cold personality of the man she was having a transaction with, Kirsten was confident that she would successfully guard herself against falling in love with him but she failed miserably when the so - called ruthless billionaire was nothing but a pampering husband. Little did she know that the pampering was part of the plan of Matthew. The day Matthew realized that his wife quietly and effortlessly made his way into his heart, he abandoned his plan and ended his decade long relationship with Vanessa Gray. Matthew had never been so afraid in life, just the mere thought of Kirsten leaving him made his heart tremble. He did all he could to keep Kirsten from knowing the truth. But destiny had its own plan, testing the depths of their love, Kirsten discovered the painful truth. Will she be able to look past this deception and stay by Matthew’s side or choose to end their marriage and go their own separate ways?

"You are a rogue! How could you do this to me! I regret ever marrying you! " She screamed.The smirk never left his face even as he spoke."You married a playboy sweetheart, what did you except? Welcome to my world "The devil you know is always better than the angel you don't. Kathleen has always wanted a perfect relationship. She ran away from her abusive relationship only to get married to a mysterious stranger.Will this hot stranger treat her any better than her ex? What happens when he turned out to be a playboy who wasn't ready to be chained down by a simple wedding ring ?

On her birthday night, inside her family’s five-star restaurant, she realizes her marriage is already over. While she waits alone, her husband chooses another woman.. again. Humiliated, heartbroken, she makes a reckless decision… unaware that a powerful billionaire has been watching her from the shadows. He knows her pain. He knows her family's secrets. And he wants to free her from the man who never loved her. But nothing ever unfolds that simply—especially not when fate has already decided to complicate it. Resentment turns into obsession, and truth bleeds into revenge. Soon, the cost of freedom begins to rise beyond divorce… beyond love… beyond mercy. And when buried histories ignite, what begins as rescue threatens to become destruction — where old flames are rekindled in fire, blood, and ruin.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I was trapped in a cabin with my daughter, Sofia Costello, as floodwaters raged outside. With shaking hands, I used the emergency satellite phone to call my mafia husband, Henson Costello, and begged for help. I dialed more than 90 times before the call finally went through, yet all I heard was the breathy moans of his first love, Angelina Rossi, on the other end. "Henson...slower..." Before I could even process the shock of his betrayal, I heard a conversation that sent me straight into hell. "That kid was dead weight anyway. Trading him for control of Pier 9 was the best deal the family ever made." It seemed that Leo Costello, my son, who had supposedly drowned at the beach five years ago, had not died in an accident after all. Henson had used him as part of a business deal. All this time, I had been drowning in guilt for taking him to that beach, blaming myself for the tragedy. I never knew the truth was this cruel. Tears streamed down my face as my body shook uncontrollably. After ten years of marriage, I finally realized I had never truly known the man I loved and sacrificed everything for. I picked up my phone again and dialed Vincenzo Moretti's number. "Vince, I'll marry you. But you have to help me destroy the Costello family from power." After a brief silence, his voice came through the line. "Aurelia Astor, I've been waiting ten years to hear you say that."

"If I were you..." He began, his eyes suddenly having slits of fury burning within them. "I'd mind my thoughts and limit what I say." His voice dropped gravely low. My brows knitted in a frown. "Excuse me?" I asked, amused. "Are you threatening me??" I prodded further. Nicholas chortled, his voice reverberating through the walls of the room. "Call it whatever you want-I honestly don't give two fucks, but let me make it known to you, young lady..." He started and paused, and in a flick, his face became contorted with rage. "You're my possession now... You're at my mercy and I can fucking do anything I want to do to you right now, in case you don't realize that yet." He continued and I stared on, goosebumps breaking out on my forearm. "Who can save you from my clutches? Exactly what you're guessing... nobody, not even your boss, Megan!" ~>>>~ Nicholas Hills is one of the new names on the movie production scene. He is known as a Billionaire Playboy who had inherited his fortune from his Grandfather. Nicholas is naturally flirty, his good looks making him an automatic ladies' magnet, so he hides his vulnerability and prefers to give off the impression of being a careless playboy. Corvette Vincente, a 24-year-old Private Investigator is the best at what she does. Working for the ruthless gossip magazine "Splash a Star" which makes its profit from bringing out the skeleton in the closet of celebrity stars,Corvette is the best they have and her latest assignment is the Playboy Billionaire movie producer, Nicholas Hills. Getting him caught up in a scandal should be as easy as swatting a fly, but what happens when his charms and sensuality turn her into his scandal instead...? And she loves it! Every single bit!!

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.