Novel & Cerita Alia Rose Father

Three days before my wedding, my younger sister staged a scene—one where I supposedly abandoned her in the mountains. She claimed I locked her in a cabin, left her to be nearly assaulted, and that she barely escaped with her life. Furious, my fiancé dragged me up the mountain and locked me in that same cabin. He said, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day." I begged him, over and over, but my scorched throat could only force out hoarse, grating sounds. Three days later, Mickey O'Brien stood at the altar in his suit, waiting for me. What he got instead was my remains.

Kay had spent her entire life working towards her life long dreams, before she knew it she had lost her savings, her job, her family and friends. She lost it all the moment she had met Darren a mysterious bad boy who had completely ruined her life. She spends her days raising their son while reliving every moment she had spent with Darren while looking back at the nightmare that was her life. What happens when they nightmare walks back into her life.

Having my parents best friends next door means that I have built in best friends from birth. I thought I knew everything about them. I could have sworn I knew all their secrets, but that all changed one night when I discovered their biggest secret: Their whole family are werewolves! This is book 1 in the Graycort series.

Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime. This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account. By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?" I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!" That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?" "Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

My three-year-old son looked nothing like my husband. Suspicious, my father-in-law secretly took my son for a paternity test. The results showed that there was no biological relationship between them. Furious and humiliated, my father-in-law erupted in anger, hurling insults at me and even threatening to kill us. My husband, just as enraged, slapped me hard across the face. "You shameless wrench! You've made me raise another man's child for three years!" As I stared at their accusing faces, I calmly produced another report—the paternity test between my husband and his father. It confirmed they weren't biologically related either. Their expressions froze in shock. With a faint smile, I said, "Looks like we don't know for sure who isn't part of this family, do we?"

Rozelyn found out she is a vampire when she turned eighteen. To make matters worse, her stepmom is secretly a vampire as well and Cyrill, her stepmom's adoptive son, is a werewolf behind the shadows. As she live the life of being a vampire, several people had come for her—including the infamous Blood Mistress, a witch who hunts vampires and werewolves. Rozelyn become more fascinated with the vampire life, especially when she found out that sex plays a huge role in a vampire's everyday living and it acts like blood: once they tasted it, they will crave for it even more. Will Rozelyn be able to voice out her secret love to Cyrill without risking the familial relationship they have built for years? Or will she watch her loved ones perish due to her identity as the most powerful vampire to ever live? Amidst all these, only one thing is certain: Blood is thicker than water—either literally or figuratively.

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

His eyes darkened as he leaned closer, placing a finger on my mouth. “Uh-uh, what did I say you call me when we're alone?” My body tingled with heat. “Daddy?” “Urgh…” A guttural groan tore from his chest. “Yes, baby?” My mind spaced for a second and Andre took advantage of that, tucking his hands under my legs and carrying me bridal style. “Andre, what are you doing?!” I shriek, dangling my legs in the air. “Finishing what we started, baby.” he chuckled, heading straight for the front door. I shook my head in bemusement. His daughter just found out about us and his brain goes straight to sex? Men… I wasn't any better though as I just waited for him to cross that threshold and pounce on me, instead of dissuading him. He strode over to the loveseat couch, sliding me down his body before pushing me back to the couch. Propped up on my elbows, I looked up at him with hooded eyes, only for the the door knob to flip. My eyes widened and instantly, I jerked up to my feet, coming to stand behind Andre. I had no idea who it was as Claire would have just barged right in. The door opening seemed to take several minutes but in reality, it was only seconds. It swung inwards to reveal Leila, the last person I was expecting to see. She took one look at us and wasn't in the least bit surprised. “So it's true?” Those cold grey eyes moved over to me. “You're the whore that's fucking my husband?”

Married to Enzo for three years, his heart had always belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Bianca. The cut of the family business that was rightfully mine became her jewelry, and the keepsakes my brother Luca left behind were casually gifted to her by Enzo. I gave him everything, yet I remained invisible. I chose to step aside, turn my back, and vanish from his world completely. After that, the cold-hearted man lost control. He tore Little Italy apart looking for me, begging me to return. But this time, I’m never going back.

He is the most terrifying man in the Empire—Hadrian, the Lord Protector. Cold, ruthless, and dictatorial, he rules the chaotic world with an iron fist, crushing rebellions without mercy. To the world, he is a monster devoid of human emotion; a tyrant who bathes in blood. She is a rose growing in the mire—an ordinary, low-born girl struggling to survive in the slums. She possesses nothing but her pride and a fragile life. Their worlds should never have collided. But in a twist of fate amidst the smoke of revolution, the lofty Dictator set his eyes on the humble commoner. He didn't know how to love, so he used the only method he knew: Conquest. He clipped her wings, trapped her in his gilded cage, and forced her to bloom only for him. "You fear me," Hadrian whispered, his fingers tracing her trembling lips. "Good. Because in this lifetime, you will never escape me." In a game of power and submission, can a tyrant learn to kneel for love? And can a bird in a cage tame the beast?