Devotion Face Slapping Maiikling Kwento at Nobela

When Lorenzo Fontana, the top Don of Bajadoro, posts a massive bounty on the dark web seeking someone to bear him a child, the entire Terella underworld is shaken. "Whoever gives birth to my first heir will become the Donna of the Fontana family." On the night I take the job, soldati press a gun to the back of my head and force me onto a helicopter bound for a snow-covered mountain estate. Just like that, I become one of the 15 candidates. Money is the greatest temptation that the human heart can hardly resist. Within a few months, several women proudly announce that they are pregnant. But they, along with their unborn children, are all thrown off a cliff. The reason is always the same—the child isn't Lorenzo's. Ever since the first scream echoes from behind the estate, I am never able to sleep peacefully again. It is because after a reckless night with Lorenzo, I have become pregnant too. On the day I go into labor and see what I have given birth to, cold sweat breaks out across my body due to my immense shock. At least those women who fell to their deaths gave birth to human babies. I, on the other hand, give birth to three eggs that are as big as footballs!

I was always sick as a kid. My parents were desperate. They’d try anything. So they got me a bunch of "guardian angels." Next thing I know, I'm set up and tossed into a horror game. Turns out, Medusa is my godmother. The ghost girl? My childhood playmate. And the final boss, a vampire? He's my fiancé. The first time we met, I was in a blind panic. I tripped and fell right onto his chiseled chest. "Oh—I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking—" I gasped, looking up at him. The words tumbled out in a rush. "And you're really handsome—but I didn't mean to fall on you! I have a heart condition!" The boss let out a laugh. He wiped the blood from his hands and swept me up into his arms. "Don't you worry," he purred, his voice dangerously smooth. "As your fiancé, I promise... I'll fix you right up."

My cousin, Myra Walsh, leaves a voice message in the family group chat in a mean and uncouth manner. "Mom, I'm not meeting that guy who drives a rundown car. One look at him tells me that he's a single pathetic loser." She then kicks my chair. "Hey Sam, that useless piece of shit is a good match for you. Why don't you take my place on the blind date?" I follow Myra's line of sight. There's an old-looking car parked outside, and the owner, Henry Quinton, is currently reclining against the car while smoking. My entire family thinks he's just an ex-convict who has just gotten released from prison and is unable to land a job yet. I'm the only one who knows that's not the truth. Last week, when I was carrying out my internship at a bank, I witnessed the bank manager inviting Henry into the vault. Apparently, the trail of numbers Henry has in his savings is as long as a phone number. After putting on some makeup on my face to make me pure and innocent, I put on an oversized shirt before heading out of the apartment. In the cold wind, I cower slightly from the cold as I hand a thermos flask over to Henry. "Sir, Maya said she's not a match for you, so I'm here in her place." Henry snuffs out his cigarette, his gaze fixing on my flapping hem for three seconds. "Lass, if you want to be with me, you'll have to suffer tremendously in life." "I'm willing to go through anything as long as I get to be with you." That night, Maya flaunts photos of the bag a rich scion has given her. As for me, I've gone over to Henry's apartment.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

I transmigrated into the werewolf world by accident. The Moon Goddess found me and told me I had to win over an Alpha to complete my mission. Five years into my pursuit of the female Alpha, Serena, she ditched me at the office again. Meanwhile, it was Adrian — the one who'd been antagonizing me all this time — who actually called. "Just so you know, when you called Serena, she was right here with me. She wasn't too busy with work to pick up — she just didn't want to." I was stumbling down a pitch-black road, shivering in the cold wind. I sniffled hard and stammered, "C-Can you call me a cab? I don't have any money, and it's so dark out here — I think someone's following me." A beat of silence. Then his voice came through, noticeably urgent. "Hey — don't cry, alright? You're making it sound like I'm the one bullying you." "Fine, fine. Send me your location. I'll come get you." "Such a pain in the ass."

Three days after Theodore marked me, I took the three million his mother offered. Then I aborted our pup and forced our mate bond apart. Outside the operating room, he howled until he spat blood, begging me not to be so cruel. He said he would hate me for the rest of his life. Seven years later, we met again at an auction. A beautiful, docile she-wolf was sitting beside him. I'd come to the auction for the moonlight grass. But Theodore kept raising his paddle, snatching up the very lot I was bidding on. He took the moonlight grass, dropped it in front of me, and crushed it into the dirt with his heel. He said, "Anything you want, I'll destroy." He didn't know. The moonlight grass could save my pup's life. His pup, too.

The night of my first shift at eighteen, my two older sisters brought home a fifteen-year-old orphaned boy. My Alpha sister seized the rare healing herbs I'd spent all my savings on — herbs meant to ease my first shift — and gave them to him instead. "You're strong enough," she growled. "You don't need such precious herbs." My Beta sister snarled with fury, pointing toward the door. "Get out! Don't come back!" I said nothing more, just grabbed my packed bag and left. They assumed I was merely throwing a tantrum, that I'd return in a few days. My sisters, finally free of my presence, took the orphan boy on an international vacation to the Caribbean islands I'd always dreamed of visiting. Many days later, when they returned to the pack, they were shocked to discover I'd accepted an offer from the neighboring pack's Head Healer. The position required fifteen years of isolated herbal research. I could never return home. That night, they fell apart.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.

My sister and I transmigrated into a savage beastman world where females were terrifyingly scarce. For the sake of reproduction, the Grand Druid allowed us to take our pick of mates first. Whoever gave birth to a child first, her husband would be crowned the Beast King. My sister, Chloe, was power-hungry. She immediately claimed Lucius, the noble and devastatingly handsome Merfolk Prince. I chose Bjorn, a werewolf guard who seemed honest and loyal. Chloe mated with Lucius, but she gave birth to two deformed half-merfolk pups, making her the laughingstock of the horde. Lucius was sadistic by nature and beat her constantly, while Bjorn treated me with the utmost care. After I gave birth to our first child, he successfully ascended to the Beast King's throne and crowned me as his supreme Queen, revered by all beasts. Chloe went mad with jealousy. At my Queen's coronation, she drove a poisoned dagger straight through my heart. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we chose our mates. Chloe rushed forward and latched onto Bjorn's arm. "Elena, this time, the Queen's throne is mine." I instantly realized that she had been reborn, too. I looked toward the small, reddish-brown wyvern huddled in the corner. "I choose him."

To keep the peace between humans and shifters, those chosen by the Oracle are forced to mate with their bound partners. And me? I was forced to be the shared mate of twin black dragons. Every night, I brewed two glasses of moon-wine to help them sleep. The older brother, Kaelen, was cold. But when he took his glass, his scalding fingertips would brush my wrist in a silent promise, and he’d murmur a soft thanks. But the younger one, Cassian? A vicious temper. He’d smash the glass, hurl insults, and crush me with the weight of his dragon aura. I had been lying to myself. Walking on eggshells. Desperately keeping a fragile peace. Until a fellow apothecary told me the truth. She hesitated, then said: "He treats you like dirt. The other one is gentle. Why do they both get the same precious moon-wine? How is that fair to the one who actually cares?" I thought about it all day. She was right. Late that night, I left the apothecary in a sheer silk robe, carrying only one glass of moon-wine.

Colton and I were the two most notorious good-for-nothings in the Sicilian mafia. My oldest brother, Dominic, was the Don of the Turner Family. My other brother, Luca, laundered money for the entire operation. That made me the Family princess who did nothing but max out my brothers' credit cards. Colton had been frail since birth. His hands shook whenever he held a gun. But his oldest sister, Serena, ran several arms routes in the south, and his other sister, Natalia, commanded one of the world's top assassin teams. One day at the racetrack, the four of them got to talking. "Since none of us can stop worrying about the little ones, why not put them together? Easier to keep an eye on both." Just like that, Colton and I got married. We were moved into the Family estate, and life was peaceful and easy. That peace lasted until it was time for me to go abroad with Colton for his long-term treatment. The night before we left, our brothers and sisters threw us a farewell banquet so we could make our formal debut before the Family. At the banquet, Beth, the daughter of the Garry Family, insisted I was the mistress her husband kept on the side. "I don't know your husband, and I'm definitely not his mistress. My husband is right over there." I pointed him out to her. Colton was stuffing cake into his mouth, his hands already starting to tremble. Beth burst out laughing. "You think pointing at some idiot will fool anyone? I've seen plenty of women like you!" She shoved me hard. I crashed into the champagne tower, knocking it over. Glass shattered across the floor, and the deafening noise drew a crowd. A jagged shard sliced a deep gash into my leg. Blood poured out. Colton panicked when he saw what happened. He rushed forward, shoved Beth aside, and was ready to fight. Beth was furious. "So he really is an idiot. Throw them both into the sea." I fought with everything I had and managed to dial Dominic. My voice shook. "Dominic, someone's trying to kill me." They had no idea wha

The night before my wedding, my drink was spiked with an aphrodisiac. In my past life, I pinpointed my fiancé, Cassius, in the crowded room. We spent a passionate night together, and the wedding went off without a hitch the next day. I thought I had chosen happiness. That was until his assistant, Valerie, died in a yacht explosion. He went insane, pushed me off a cliff, and roared, "Valerie and I had a pact! I was supposed to leave the day before the wedding to travel the world with her! If you hadn't clung to me all night, I wouldn't have missed it, and she wouldn't be dead!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night I was drugged. This time, I threw myself into the arms of Cassius's twin brother, Saul. I whimpered, "Baby, I feel so hot." Seeing the visible relief on Cassius's face, I sneered inwardly. He didn't know yet—the old Godfather had promised me that whoever became my husband would inherit the title of Godfather. In this life, I didn't want Cassius anymore. And he could kiss the Godfather title goodbye, too.

I went through hell for a man I met on an underground forum. I traded my thick-rimmed glasses for laser eye surgery, wore painful wire braces for two years, and endured agonizing laser treatments for my acne. A posture coach beat a graceful walk into me with a riding crop. I clawed my way from being the Pierce family's "four-eyed ugly duckling," the girl nobody looked at twice, and became someone who turned heads. But the night before we were supposed to meet, I scrolled past a post on another dark web forum. "Selling my internet girlfriend for cheap. We're meeting soon." "Been together over a year. Sweet voice, soft personality, great emotional support. DM if interested." Someone commented to ask why he was dumping such a perfect girl. The original poster replied: "I paid a hacker to get her address and pull surveillance footage. She's some hideous hillbilly with a mouth full of metal. The sight of her made me sick." The comment section erupted in jeers: "I was going to buy her for some fun, but I lost my appetite the second I saw that picture. What an ugly country bumpkin with a mouth full of braces." "Who would want this kind of trash? She's all yours, hahaha." Scrolling to the very bottom, only one ID had replied with two words: "DM me." I tapped on the original poster's avatar and zoomed in. The black cat silhouette was identical to my online boyfriend's profile picture. The post was dated three months ago.

My dorm mate, Chloe Dawson, had a sweet voice, but she wasn't very pretty. She loved online dating and had four online boyfriends at the same time. She looked at me with a smug smile. "Ivy, no guy ever wants you. How about I give you one of my boyfriends? He wants to meet me today anyway." I was about to refuse when strange words suddenly appeared in front of me. [Heroine, don't give the villainess the male lead's contact info! Sure, you used her photos to get his attention online, but he's not that shallow. He loves you for who you are!] [The villainess is just a poor student on financial aid. How could someone like her ever take the heroine's place and date the male lead?] [Exactly! Heroine, don't do anything stupid! The male lead is Nathan Ashworth, CEO of the Ashworth Group! You can't just hand a great guy like him over to someone else!]

I had been in an online relationship with Alpha Steve for five years without ever meeting him in person. We made plans to meet in person three times. Each time, my voice locked up and I ran away. The fourth time, I finally pushed open the hotel room door. Rose petals covered the bed, but Steve had his arm around another woman. He said, "Lavinia, you stood me up three times. How am I supposed to know you're really who you say you are—or even what you look like? So I brought Caroline instead!" Right in front of me, Steve pressed closer to Caroline. I could even see the mark on her neck. A chill ran through me. My voice locked up, and all I could do was pull out my phone and type, "Then what were our five years?" Caroline leaned on his shoulder and laughed softly. "So she really is mute. Five years of talking to you must have worn Steve out." I stood there for a few seconds. Then I laughed. If he could replace his date, I could replace mine. I turned, walked out of the room, and grabbed the first man who passed by. I had no idea at the time that he was the Alpha King!

Five years ago, the Franco family threw cash in my face, forced me to break up with their daughter, and ran me out of Blackhaven like a stray dog. Five years later, I came back as the Don of the Raven Syndicate, the most powerful mafia organization in Europe. But the Franco family had already been set up and destroyed, their old stronghold burned to the ground. In an abandoned slaughterhouse, blood ran across the floor. Isaac, the insufferable prince of the rising Leoni family, tilted Marcella Franco's chin up with the toe of his expensive leather shoe. "Franco trash. Kneel and beg me. Be my plaything, and I'll toss you a scrap of food." Marcella's hair was a mess and her clothes had been torn open, but she clutched the Zippo lighter—my lighter—to her chest and refused to give an inch. "Get away. Don't put your filthy hands on what Gian left me." Isaac flew into a rage and slapped her. "You're still mooning over that disowned bastard? "He was blacklisted and cast out years ago. He's probably hauling crates on some dock right now!" He motioned for his thugs to tear off Marcella's clothes. At that instant, an armored Humvee tore the slaughterhouse's iron door off its hinges. I crossed the broken glass, went straight for Isaac, and knocked him off his feet with one punch. "You lay hands on my woman? Who the hell do you think you are?"