Obsessive Short Stories & Independence Marriage Novels

My fiancé, Luciano Marino, was the Don of the Marino family, and he was an extremely careful man. For the five years we'd known each other, he'd kept me on his estate outside the city. "Eleanor, you're my weak spot. I'll never let any of my enemies lay a finger on you." "The fewer people who know about you, the safer you are." So I'd never once appeared in public with him, let alone met his family. Three days before our wedding, I was outside the study when I overheard him talking to the butler. "Don, are you sure you want to schedule your wedding to Ms. Vanderhall for the same day, three days from now?" "That's right." "Then... what about Ms. Ashford?" He took a deep drag on his cigar. "Eleanor has always been understanding. She won't mind if I'm a little late." My hand froze before I could push the door open, and my mind went blank. Hands shaking, I opened Instagram on my phone and searched for Eileen Vanderhall's account. Her feed was filled with photos of the two of them. She came and went from Luciano's armory as she pleased, attended his family dinners, and even sat in on meetings with his crew. "He says that when you love someone, you share every part of your life with them." So it wasn't that he refused to let the woman he loved into his life. It was just that the woman wasn't me. Back in my room, I dialed a number. "Dad, I lost the bet. I'm ready to come home and marry the man you picked." ...

Don Ettore Vitale's lover, Viola Serra, and I are abducted at the same time. When it's time for Ettore to make his choice, he doesn't hesitate to choose Viola despite always doting on me all the time. "Larissa, Viola can't take this. She's too fragile. Once this is over, I'll definitely make it up to you." "If you choose her, I'll hate you forever!" He remains silent for a moment before whisking Viola away in his arms. I just keep laughing till tears spill down my cheeks. Some time later, I nestle into Ettore's arch-nemesis, Vittorio Romano's arms while smiling at the former. But he keeps begging me to return to him like an absolute lunatic.

The night Luca Caruso became the most powerful Don, he slid a diamond ring onto my finger in front of the heads of the five major mafia families. "You'll be my only wife, Elena. No woman will ever take your place." I believed every word. I was the daughter of his strongest ally, and the woman who'd helped make him Don. For six years, I stood beside him through gunfights, betrayals, and assassination attempts. I even lost our first baby. The whole underworld envied me. They said Luca was cold to the rest of the world, but he would always give in to his wife. That lasted until the day before Luca's birthday, when I slipped away to Tuscany to surprise him. At the villa, I found Luca. He was supposed to be in a meeting with the heads of the other families. Instead, he was celebrating his birthday with another woman and a little boy. The woman was holding the cake, gazing tenderly at father and son. "Luca, what if Elena finds out? Is she going to make a scene?" Luca kissed her forehead. He sounded completely sure of himself. "She won't. Elena loves me. She'll put up with this for me." His next words crushed the last hope I had. "Besides, old man Moretti has known for ages. He'll keep his daughter in line. He needs his alliance with me too much." The woman leaned against his shoulder, her voice soft. "So who do you love more, Luca?" Luca didn't even hesitate. "When I put the wedding ring on Elena's finger, all I could think about was you."

A New York tabloid covering the underworld caught my husband, Don Antonio Vescari, fooling around in a parking garage with Lillian Shaw, the pianist he kept at the estate. That same day, everyone on the dark web started betting on how much I'd pay to make it disappear this time. After all these years, it was an unwritten rule in the Vescari family: whenever Antonio caused a scandal, I cleaned it up. From the balcony, I looked down and saw Antonio kissing Lillian, his arms wrapped around her. Through the cigar smoke, he even arched an eyebrow at me, amusement in his voice. "Cecilia, she looks most like you when I kiss her, eyes red and breath coming fast. I lost my head for a second. "Don't be angry, sweetheart. I'm only having a little fun with her. Bury the photos for me, and I'll come see you later. Okay?" He said it so casually, like it was nothing at all. I froze, my hand drifting to my ring. A bitter laugh escaped me. Then I turned and walked away. The tabloids never knew when to leave well enough alone. They dug up the video of his oath from seven years earlier, the day he became Don. Covered in blood, Antonio had gone down on one knee, kissed the back of my hand, and sworn he would love only me for the rest of his life. Now the two images ran side by side across the same front page. The contrast was laughable. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. The tabloid's boss cautiously asked how much I planned to pay for the negatives this time. I said no. After all, I was going home to Sicily soon. This scandal couldn't touch me anymore.

My best friend, Lillian Russo, was married to Daniel Falco, a small-time thug from a second-rate New York family. When I heard he'd been beating her, my boyfriend Vittorio Cordano and I flew out in the middle of the night. I crushed Daniel's ribs under my stiletto while Vittorio dealt with the bodyguards trying to get through the door. Lillian wiped the blood from her face and slapped him hard, again and again. In the car on the way home, the three of us looked at each other's bruises and laughed our heads off in the Sicilian morning light. Lillian was laughing and crying at the same time. "You two have to stay together forever. If you ever split up, who am I supposed to go with?" Vittorio had one hand on the wheel. He snorted. "Santina is my only weakness. Stop worrying about us and take care of yourself." From that day on, Lillian lived with us, and I did everything I could to take care of her. I spent so much time looking after her that one night, in bed, Vittorio gripped my waist, his voice low and dangerous. "Santina, did you forget? You're my woman." Three months later, I came back from a business trip and found a plush charm in Vittorio's car. Something cute and girly. No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me who'd given it to him. "We're done!" I threw the words at him and told Lillian to come with me. But Lillian kept her head down. While I watched, she walked, step by step, over to Vittorio's side.

Before the wedding, I received a deduction alert from our joint account. Amount: $1,314. Merchant: Love hotel. Note: One last fling before the wedding. The cardholder was Ethan Greyson. The one who’d used it was his childhood friend, Sophie. I stared at my phone, my fingers ice cold. Sophie was sitting in the bridesmaids’ dressing room touching up her lipstick, wearing Ethan’s suit jacket over her shoulders. She saw the notification and came over with a smile. “Amber, don’t get the wrong idea. “I forgot my wallet, so I used your husband’s joint account to get a room to rest. “He said you’d be sharing finances anyway, so he let me charge it this once.” I looked at Ethan. His first instinct wasn’t to explain, but to turn off my phone. “Sophie just went through a breakup. She’s in a bad place. “Don’t humiliate her over a little money right before the wedding.” Before, she’d charged things to his supplementary card, and he’d say she was short on cash. She’d book couple’s suites using his membership, and he’d say the hotel was safer. She’d send him suggestive selfies at midnight asking how she looked, and he’d say friends joke around like that. And now, she was spending our marital assets to sleep in a room he’d booked. Ethan coaxed me in a low voice, “After the wedding, I’ll transfer the money back to you. “From now on, I won’t let Sophie spend your money. “The apartment, the hotel rooms, me. All yours. Forever.” I looked at him and suddenly found those words laughable. So he did know these things were supposed to have boundaries. I didn’t argue anymore. Because there would be no forever.

Three years into our long-distance relationship, my daily conversations with Evan Crawford turned into a three-person group chat. He said the company was busy preparing for its IPO and that he didn't have time to check his phone. If I needed anything, I should tell his "buddy," Nicole Pearce, and she'd pass it along. From then on, everything came through Nicole: what time he left the office, when he traveled for work, what he took for his stomach pain. She knew every moment of his day. Every message I sent him just sat there on "unread." On my birthday, I asked in the group chat if he could spare ten minutes for a video call. Nicole replied, "The launch event is right around the corner. Don't distract him." And yet somehow he had time to like her latest Instagram post. The night the company went public, I took an overnight bus to the celebration dinner and arrived in time to hear him raise a toast. "I owe these past six months to Nicole. She took care of all the little things for me." When he spotted me, he frowned. "Why didn't you check in through the group chat first?" Nicole took the gift from my hands. "He's exhausted. Whatever you need to say, I'll pass it along." A wave of helplessness hit me. I pulled my hand back and left the group chat. If even missing him had to go through her, I had no reason to report my life to him anymore.

Five years ago, my family went bankrupt. When I had nowhere left to turn, it was my rival, Grant Ford, who threw me a lifeline. He paid off all our debts on one condition: I had to marry him. I assumed the marriage was revenge he'd been planning for years. Instead, for five years, he treated me like I was precious. He never even raised his voice at me. When my anxiety grew worse, he slept beside my bed for months and held my hand through every panic attack. Little by little, I let my guard down. For him, I even dulled my edge. Then, out of nowhere, an intern joined the company. She wore the clothes I used to love. She even copied the way I pitched ideas when I was younger. And she stole the project I'd spent eight months of late nights landing, all while I was pregnant. But Grant only smiled at her indulgently. "Let her try. It's good for young people to have some drive." When he turned to me, his voice was cool. "You've gotten too cautious lately. Let her take the lead on the project." I looked down at the milk stain on my sleeve from feeding our baby, Jamie. That was when I understood. He loved the defiant woman I'd been, not the wife he'd worn down. No wonder he was so eager to find a stand-in for the younger, sharper woman I'd been. But a replacement only gets her turn once the original leaves the stage. If he was so impatient, I'd give him what he wanted.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

At the party the night before our wedding, I came across a couples' challenge post online: [If I weren't an option, who would you most want to marry?] I smiled as I asked my fiance, Julian Hayes. He didn't hesitate. "Vivian." Vivian Bennett was my younger sister. My best friend chimed in. "Honestly, Vivian does understand him best. Every time you two fight, she's the one who stays up talking to Julian until dawn." Vivian reached over and gave him a playful punch on the chest. "Better keep your fiance in line, sis. Can't have him pining after me all the time." The whole table erupted in laughter. My mother, Margaret Bennett, gave an amused tsk. "It's just a joke. Besides, Vivian never complains the way you do. It's only natural that Julian likes her." Julian glanced at me. "It was just a joke. What, you can't take one again?" I didn't respond. I looked down at the confirmation form the wedding planner had just sent over. The gown, the bouquet, the music, the menu. All chosen to Vivian's taste. So this wedding, from start to finish, had only one thing that was mine: my name in the bride's place. If it didn't matter who the bride was, then there was no point in having this wedding at all.

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

I came from a human noble family that had long since fallen on hard times. Five years ago, I found a vampire in the forest, badly wounded by hunters and with no memory of who he was. Cassian and I fell in love. He said he would love me the same way for the rest of his life. Then hunters attacked again, and he took another bullet protecting me. When he woke in the hospital, every one of Cassian's memories had come back. He was the heir of the vampire prince, and he had a fiancee waiting for him. Overnight, the husband who had sworn to protect me forever began looking at me with distaste. I stood outside his hospital room and heard him say it. "Marrying that human was an accident. "I'll divorce her. The betrothal stands." He said that without the accident five years ago, I would never have been good enough for him. I had tried so hard to carry his child, and one miscarriage after another had wrecked my health. With his memory back, he had no tenderness left for me. He only said he would pay me off. I kept watch outside his room and begged him to think it over, and he would not even look at me. Then, at their engagement party, I watched with my own eyes as Cassian kissed someone else, tenderly, as though he could not get enough of her. When he passed me, his eyes held nothing but indifference. That was the moment I finally let go. Later I married someone else. And Cassian stood outside the chapel with red eyes and a shaking voice, saying he regretted it.

On the way back from our pre-wedding trip, the yacht hit a reef and started taking on water. There were five of us on board, and only four life jackets. My fiancé, Ethan Clarke, slipped the last life jacket over my adopted sister Sienna Shaw's shoulders and fastened the buckles for her. "I might as well tell you the truth now. "Sienna's pregnant with my baby. Nothing can happen to her." Before I could say a word, Owen Ford, my childhood friend, stepped in front of me. "You've had years of happiness that should've been hers. This time, give her a chance to live." My brother, Adrian, wouldn't meet my eyes. "Mom and Dad know about it too. You've always been a better swimmer than Sienna. You'll figure something out." Sienna cradled her belly and looked at me through her tears. "I'm sorry. But out of five people, someone has to stay behind." So this pre-wedding trip was really just a celebration of their baby and a farewell they'd planned for me. The yacht slowly began to sink. They jumped into the sea, and not one of them looked back. Half an hour later, a rescue boat came cutting through the waves. I stayed in the cabin, yet I was the first to be rescued. If five was too many, I'd be better off alone.

News reports kept repeating the highest-level red alert. A Mediterranean cyclone would make landfall by evening. At four that afternoon, the members of the Corvino family were all securing shipping containers at the docks, eager to get home to their families. When they asked if I wanted a ride home, I shook my head. "Luis said he's coming to get me." They laughed and said they wouldn't steal Luis's chance to play chauffeur. By five, the sky had turned a terrifying deep purple. The storm was tearing at the palm trees. I called my fiancé, Luis Corvino, but he didn't pick up. Our last exchange was at four, when he'd written, "On my way, babe. Wait for me." At half past five, floodwater rushed into the street below, and the cars parked along the curb were swept away like toys. The whole building lost water and power. I curled up on the leather sofa in my office and tried calling again. When the call connected, a woman answered instead. "Luis?" I called out. "Luis is helping me move some things." It was Sophia Corvino, Luis's young, newly widowed stepmother. "Water's coming into the house, and I'm so scared... Luis said it's too dangerous for me to be home alone. "Oh, and Isabella, Luis said he sent a helicopter for you. He texted you. Did you get it?" I looked out the window at the utility poles the storm had snapped. A helicopter? In this weather? He couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent excuse. I looked at the water creeping in around my feet and kept my voice calm. "Don't bother. I'm already home." A home that didn't need Luis anymore.

Lily Harper was my husband Victor Carter's first love. The day she got divorced, Victor dressed up and headed out with the newest toy on the market for her son. That was the day I started teaching our son, Arthur, to call him "Mr. Carter." He skipped Arthur's first-day-of-school assembly to take Lily's son, Leo, to an amusement park. I told Arthur, "Mr. Carter has a lot of work to do." When Lily called to say her place felt empty, Victor walked out on us on Christmas Day. I comforted my heartbroken son. "Let Mr. Carter go do his work. Mommy will always be here with you." Later, the two boys got into a fight at school, and the teacher called us in. Victor stood across from Arthur and me, right beside Lily. Arthur clenched his fists. "Mr. Carter, your precious Leo hit me first." When we got home, Victor realized how badly he'd hurt Arthur and decided to throw him a huge birthday party. In the middle of the party, Lily called again, crying because Leo had a fever. Victor put his phone down and gave Arthur an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I..." Arthur looked back at him, his face blank. "It's okay, Mr. Carter. I have Mom. That's enough."