Babel Tower Trail Novels & Stories

Cecilia Laurent’s husband, Lyon Melville, was known across North Ameria’s underground circles as the biggest womanizer. As the current Don of the Melville family, the women who wanted to get close to him would line up from New Yorke to Rondon. He never turned anyone away from his bed. Cecilia had been married to Lyon for five years. The taunting messages and intimate photos from his mistresses were enough to fill the storage on three of her encrypted phones. Cecilia showed no mercy. After the photos of Lyon in the car with a model were made public, she had the sports car dismantled completely. When he went out to sea with an actress to watch fireworks, she had the yacht blown to nothing. She blacklisted every woman who tried to cling to him. She overturned tables at family banquets. She risked every bit of dignity she had as the Melville family’s Donna in the hope that he would come back to her. Lyon allowed it. He let the rumors spread without denying anything. For five years, Cecilia was the joke of the family and the entire underworld. When the New Year came around, Cecilia received her first “gift” of the year. It was an intimate photo of Lyon in bed with another woman. At nearly the same time, a headline broke across New Yorke’s social media and tabloids. [Don Melville Meets Superstar Gianna Moretti Late at Night.] Inside the banquet hall of the family estate, the band continued to play. The champagne tower reflected a cold light. Everyone was waiting for her to blow up. Her assistant expertly pulled up the PR department’s number and held the phone out to her. “Donna Melville, the PR team is waiting for your instructions. Do you want us to make this bigger, like last time?” Cecilia looked at the man in the photo. Ten minutes ago, he had held their daughter on the balcony and watched the fireworks together. She suddenly smiled. “Take it down,” she said. “I don’t want to see this on the front page in two hours.” Everyone in New Yorke knew that the Melville family’s Donna loved like a madwoman. She could lose her temper just as easily. But this time, she did not lose control. She wanted a divorce.

I save the Alpha. He crowns my sister. "Miles... I'm your mate," I blurt, hoping that will break through his confusion and make him see me for who I truly am. He only stares quietly at me, but I can see the conflict and confusion in his expression. "I'm sorry, Rhea. You're beautiful, and your scent..." his words trail as he buries his nose on my neck and inhales deeply. "It's the sweetest I've ever known. But I love your sister, and I made a promise I don't intend to break. We will have to reject the mate bond." "Why won't you believe me?" I plead, my voice raw. "I'm the girl you met that night. I am your mate!" Miles' gaze hardens as he points toward the exit. "You need to leave, Rhea. Or I'll have security escort you out." "You liar!" I scream as I yank Roxy's hair. "You've stolen everything from me!" I feel Miles' hands gripping my shoulders as he yanks me off her, shoving me backward. I land hard on my butt. "Listen to me, Rhea," he hisses, his voice filled with venom, his eyes cold. "I don't want to see you near me or Roxy again. If you do, I'll have you banished." He takes a step closer, towering above me. "I, Alpha Miles Mondragon, reject you, Rhea Chapman, as my mate. Accept it or reject it; I don't fucking care." Have you ever watched your Knight in shining armor stolen from your very own fantasy? It could be the most heartbreaking thing. What do you do when the man fated to love you calls you a liar? When the boy you save becomes the Alpha who destroys you? This is my story, and how my fate was stolen.

The mafia coalition’s family banquet had reached its liveliest point. Someone started stirring things up and steered the conversation toward the youngest Don of the Fumagalli family, Dante Fumagalli. “Dante, before you came to power, all those old Dons from the major families were falling over themselves to push their daughters at you. Was there ever one you actually wanted?” I stood half a step behind him, and my knuckles turned white around my wine glass. Dante did not answer right away. His gaze swept over me, cool and indifferent, before he turned toward Viviana Lombardi, who still held the crowd’s attention. “I wanted her.” Viviana spun around so fast that wine splashed from her glass onto her wrist. “Then why did you not come when I gave you that hotel key card all those years ago?” The calm on Dante’s face finally cracked. He frowned. “Your key card? Was that not for Enzo Ricci?” “How could it have been for Enzo?” Viviana’s eyes reddened. “He is my first cousin.” One question led to another and the truth emerged. That hotel key card had been handed to the wrong person by a Soldato. Because of that mistake, they had missed each other. Viviana burst into tears on the spot. Regret shadowed Dante’s expression. Just then, someone laughed softly. “What a coincidence. Was the key card really delivered to the wrong person, or did someone make sure it ended up in the wrong hands?” In an instant, every eye in the room turned to me. Everyone remembered me. I was the woman who used to trail after Dante Fumagalli like a lovesick fool. I turned to look at Dante and hoped he would say something for me. I hoped he would tell them we had been secretly married for five years and that he had been the one who pursued me back then. He said nothing. He did not defend me. He did not deny anything. He stared ahead in silence as if none of this had anything to do with him. In that moment, I pulled off the wedding ring I had worn for five years.