Black Cat's Son Novels & Stories

Claire Darlington’s life was shattered when her husband betrayed her, taking everything—her marriage, her company, and her dignity. Determined to rebuild, she reinvented herself, creating Erebos Pharmaceutical and raising her young son, Liam, in secret. Four years later, Claire’s life is stable but complicated. A devoted suitor, Edward, courts her warmly, while a mysterious, cold billionaire, Christopher Anderson, enters her life unexpectedly. The past, however, is not done with her. During her years of reinvention, Claire discovers a shocking secret: the last time she underwent fertility treatment, the hospital accidentally used Christopher’s sperm during an implantation procedure, making him the father of Liam. As Claire navigates her thriving business, single motherhood, and romantic tension, Jason and Sasha discover her identity and plot revenge, ultimately kidnapping Liam. Forced to confront her fears, Claire must orchestrate a daring plan to save her son, reclaim her life, and exact poetic justice on those who wronged her. Caught between Edward’s warmth and Christopher’s icy, magnetic presence, Claire faces not only danger and betrayal but also the undeniable pull of the father of her child.

I was blind This is my fault, isn't it? The man I loved, and I thought he was going to protect me all my life is the one who sold me off to an unknown man. I spent a night with that man. I wanted to kill myself and end my misery. But the man I spent a night with stopped me. He made me an offer: he would give me my sight back, in return, I had to become his woman. In the moment of despair, I choose survival over everything else. After my sight was restored, I did what I thought was justice- I shot my vile ex-boyfriend. I spared his life, but only so he would live with the consequences of his betrayal. Then I ran. I couldn't be anyone's woman. But even as I escaped, one name lingered in my mind, Zac Bratva. I could never forget him. How could I? He was the father of my son. "It's been five years, huh! You think you can escape me." I was startled, hearing the familiar voice before looking around. "I don't know what you are saying, sir. I don't know you," I stammered, fear tightening around my throat. "Seems like I have to help you to recall!" He said, his voice sharp. But before I could react, he pressed his gun against my head and said, "I am Zac Bratva, the godfather," he growled, "Yet you are brave enough to play with me. Now, Get inside the car, Woman!" "Godfather! What?!" My head erupted.

On the day Steven, my husband, died in battle, Luke, my only son, was kidnapped by human traffickers. Wendy, my mother-in-law, cursed at me. My parents blamed me for it. Even the villagers said I deserved it. While I was consumed by grief, Wendy suggested I take in an abandoned baby to continue the family line. Just as I was about to agree to it, words suddenly appeared in front of me. [The villainess wouldn’t ever expect the male protagonist to actually be alive, right? Does she know that he’s with the female protagonist?] [That’s right. Even the news about her son being kidnapped was fake!] I was confused. Before I could make sense of it, I saw more words. [Honestly, the villainess is pretty pitiful. Her husband faked his death because he likes her sister! Even her son isn’t her own flesh and blood.] [That’s not all. The abandoned baby is actually the protagonists’ son! When she brings up the boy and sends him to university, the protagonists will reunite with their son and be a happy family.] [It can’t be helped. It’s her fault for being the villainess. She can only be a stepping stone for the protagonists.] I was stunned. I was only to be a tool for the happiness of Steven and Margaret, my sister? As I carried the abandoned baby I had picked off the road, I sneered. If they wanted me to be their stepping stone, then they could not blame me for playing a little substitution trick.

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS BOOK IS STRICTLY EROTICA. IT CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY DISTURBED BY MATURE THEMES. BLURB: “Oh…” I moaned before I could stop it. “Sorry…” I whispered steadying myself, but what he said next knocked the breath from me. “I’m sorry, Sienna. I couldn’t hold it anymore.” He grabbed me and lifted me onto the nearest freezer. His lips crashed into mine, hot and hungry. My stomach twisted with excitement. I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. Our tongues moved fast, like we were devouring each. I lifted my hips from the freezer, rubbing my soaked pussy against his hard groin. My jumpsuit clung to my body, thin enough to feel everything. “Sienna…” he groaned. “Please… touch me,” I whispered against his mouth. ____ One night, one forbidden taste. She sucked off a stranger in a dark club, recklessly. What she didn’t know? He was her fiancé’s father. What he didn’t know? She was his future daughter-in-law. But then they met again, in daylight, around family. The fire was still there, burning hotter than ever, even though everything around them said “NO” to continue. He knew he was off-limits. She knew she should have run. But when lust turned into obsession, could either of them stop before it destroyed them all?

My daughter-in-law cheated on my son behind his back, and I caught her. When I confronted her, she turned the tables on me, accusing me instead. I told my son everything exactly as it happened, but she broke down crying and accused me of bullying her. "Ever since I married into the Simmons family, you've never been happy with me," she sobbed. "If I’d known you’d slander me like this, I would’ve been better off dead!" She attempted to hurt herself to prove her innocence, but my son stopped her. "Mom, how could you accuse my wife like that? You're my own mother, but this is too much!" he shouted. Furious, he moved out with her. Later, I fell gravely ill and begged my son to come see me one last time. When he finally arrived, he brought her with him. To my horror, they removed my oxygen tube. As I struggled to breathe, I heard her smug voice whisper in my ear: "Old hag, if it weren't for you accusing me of cheating, Herman and I wouldn’t have gotten your inheritance so quickly!" She laughed coldly. "Oh, and next time you accuse someone, make sure you have evidence. Did you really think your word alone could ruin me?" I died choking on my final breath. Afterward, they lived happily, spending my money without a care in the world. But then, I woke up. It was the day I caught her cheating again. This time, I went straight to work. I replaced the lubricant at home with industrial-strength glue. She wanted proof? Fine. I’d give her proof.

My son has an aortic dissection and needs surgery. My husband is a cardiac expert, but I don't bother calling him. Instead, I take a cab straight to the hospital. In my past life, upon begging my husband, he came home with the ambulance to pick our son up. He also arranged for our son to be admitted. But because he forgot to bring his phone, his childhood sweetheart died of a heart attack when she couldn't reach him. He went missing for three months and suddenly returned one day, looking perfectly normal. He even volunteered to prepare the meal on our son's birthday. It turned out he only wanted to poison the food. He strangled me and cut my neck open. "You forced me to come home to pick our son up. Ciara wouldnt' have died if I'd answered her call that day. You and your son are murderers—you have to pay with your lives!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my son has an aortic dissection. This time, my husband manages to answer his childhood sweetheart's phone. But why is he on his knees before me and begging for forgiveness?

On the day our son, Lucas Smith, turned one month old, my husband, Xavier Smith, learned that his precious childhood sweetheart, Wendy Xander, had been kidnapped. The kidnappers made an outrageous demand. They wanted him to personally cut off our son’s legs. He acted indifferent, as if it didn’t matter. But behind my back, he drugged my drink with a heavy dose of sleeping pills. Dazed and barely able to stay awake, I forced myself toward the nursery. That was when I overheard his conversation with his bodyguard. “Mr. Smith, there’s a good chance Miss Xander staged this whole kidnapping. Are you really going to do this? What if something happens to Lucas?” “It’s just a kid. If he dies, he dies. “Even if this is all fake, I won’t take a single risk when it comes to Wendy.” My hands trembled as I gripped the doorframe. So this was what I meant to him. Eight years together. His own flesh and blood. And none of it mattered more than Wendy.

I had anemia, so getting pregnant was not easy for me. My husband and I tried for ten years, and we finally had a son. When our son turned eight, he got into a car accident. The doctor said that he needed a blood transfusion, but his blood type was A. Both my husband and I were type O. My husband started to suspect that the child was not his and did a paternity test right away. The result showed that the boy really was not his son. I could not believe it and asked for another test, but the result was the same. My mother-in-law accused me of cheating and called me horrible names. My husband asked for a divorce and told me to leave with nothing except my son. We were kicked out of the house and ended up living in a cave in the mountains. A sudden rainstorm caused a landslide, and my son and I were buried alive inside. After I died, my spirit stayed near my husband. I heard him talking on the phone. “Don’t worry. I made her leave with nothing. We’ll get our marriage certificate tomorrow.” It turned out he had been seeing another woman for a while and had planned everything to make me leave with nothing except my son. What I could not figure out was how he managed to fake the paternity test in front of everyone. Luckily, I returned to the past. I woke up on the day of my son’s car accident.

My husband had lost interest in me for many years. My son's classmate taught me how to flirt with my husband. However, when he was doing so, he placed a hand on my butt and said, "Open up, Mrs. Jackson!"

I’d just wrapped up a short trip with my daughter, Elara. On the way back, I figured I’d swing by the Hale, our family’s casino, to check in on my son, Cassian. Maybe grab dinner together. I didn’t expect to be mistaken for his latest fling. Correction: not mistaken—accused. Violently. “You think you can just waltz in here like some queen?” she hissed. “I’m the woman Cassian loves! What kind of whore are you? And is this your bastard daughter with him?” She locked us in the basement. No phone. No light. Just concrete walls and the stench of mildew and madness. Then came the fists. She slapped me across the face—again and again—until my skin stung and my ears rang. When that didn’t satisfy her, she pulled a gun and aimed low. The bullet tore through my knee. I bit back a scream, shielding Elara with my body. “You need to die, whore,” she spat. One of her men hesitated, “We should at least tell Mr. Hale first. If we are going to kill these two in his casino.” Lila of course said no. But that man brought Cassian anyway. My son stepped into this dark little room like it was any other Tuesday—until he saw me. His whole body went still. The blood drained from his face. And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “Mom? What are you doing in my basement?”