Blackened Triple Tail

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

A group of armed robbers ambush the kindergarten, resulting in my son, Finn Hart, becoming a hostage. A ticking time bomb is strapped to his tiny body afterward. My husband, Nolan Hart, also known as the best bomb disposal expert in the whole nation, arrives at the scene immediately. Meanwhile, I stand by the monitor in the command van, my eyes glued to the screen. I can see a burlap sack covering Finn's head. My poor son is trembling violently out of fear. But once Nolan and his assistant-slash-first love, Summer Castellano, enter the scene, the latter actually has the guts to ask for permission to dispose of the bomb. "Nolan, let me have a taste of what it feels like to be a heroine who gets to save lives. Is that okay?" As Nolan gazes at Summer, he flashes a doting smile at her. "Go ahead. You can just cut the red wire. Don't worry, if anything happens, I'll face the consequences on your behalf." Summer reaches out with her scissors excitedly and snips the blue wire without hesitation. The next thing everyone knows, the countdown on Finn's bomb shifts from ten minutes to ten seconds instantly. Both Nolan and Summer's expressions change drastically. They quickly turn tail and flee the scene. On the other hand, my eyes go as wide as dinner plates at the turn of events. Just as I'm about to rush into the kindergarten, I feel a tiny hand grabbing the hem of my shirt forcefully. "Mommy, Daddy will save Wyatt, right?" I look down to see Finn, who's standing right next to me. For a moment, my mind goes blank. Suddenly, I recall having heard him telling me when he called me with his smartwatch earlier today. "Mommy, Wyatt insisted on swapping clothes with me. He said my new sportswear looks better than his!" Wyatt Castellano is Summer's son… as well as Finn's half-brother.

Angélique, 29 ans, institutrice mariée depuis cinq ans à Richard, croit vivre un mariage solide fondé sur l’amour, la foi et la fidélité. Vierge jusqu’au mariage, elle s’est donnée corps et âme à un seul homme : son mari. Malgré leur complicité apparente, un drame silencieux les ronge — leur incapacité à avoir un enfant. Si Richard se montre patient et réconfortant, la belle-famille d’Angélique ne cache pas son hostilité. Dans cette épreuve, elle s’appuie sur sa meilleure amie Edith, femme vive, séduisante et indépendante. Mais un détail inattendu — une voix, un rire au téléphone — sème le doute dans l’esprit d’Angélique. Peu à peu, elle collecte des indices : un ticket de restaurant pour deux à Yamoussoukro, un comportement étrange, une voiture rouge familière… jusqu’à l’irréfutable vision de Richard dans les bras d’Edith. Effondrée, elle trouve refuge chez sa sœur aînée Béatrice. Mais cette visite prend un tournant inattendu : Béatrice lui révèle que son propre couple repose sur un équilibre tacite de "liberté surveillée", chacun ayant une liaison discrète hors du foyer. Entre trahison, désillusion et tentation, Angélique perd ses repères. Et décide de répliquer. Froide, méthodique, elle envisage une vengeance douce-amère : séduire Eric, le fiancé d’Edith, également trompé. La douce institutrice n’a pas changé… elle s’est révélée.

Il la fixa longuement. Trop longuement. Le cœur de Dolores cognait contre sa poitrine. Mais elle ne baissa pas les yeux. Pas devant lui. Pas ici. Pas maintenant. Alexander Manchester. PDG insupportablement charismatique. Froid. Arrogant. Intouchable. Le genre d’homme devant qui tout plie… sauf elle. Son regard était une lame. Tranchante. Invasive. Elle chercha un doute, un frémissement, un signe de faiblesse. Rien. Juste la détermination glacée d’un homme habitué à obtenir ce qu’il veut. — Je dois assister à une réunion pour le partage des parts de l’entreprise familiale, la semaine prochaine. Ma fiancée est coincée à l’étranger. Y aller seul serait mal vu. Mes parents ne doivent rien savoir. Et je déteste perdre la face. Sa voix était calme, basse, presque dénuée d’émotion. Mais chaque mot tombait lourd, chargé d’un enjeu qu’il ne nommait pas. Elle ne répondit pas. Son silence n’était pas du vide — c’était une tempête contenue. Il s’approcha. Lentement. Sa présence semblait s’étendre, engloutir l’espace. Chaque pas était calculé. Chaque geste, mesuré. Du bout des doigts, il frôla le bord de son bureau. Juste assez pour marquer un territoire. — Sois ma femme. Pour 15 jours. Et je triple ton salaire. Tu viens avec moi. Tu souris. Tu joues le rôle. Et dans 15 jours, on oublie tout. Il lâcha ça comme une bombe à retardement. Puis attendit. — C’est une blague ? Sa voix fendit le silence, un brin d’ironie accroché à l’incrédulité. — Est-ce que j’ai l’air de plaisanter ? Son regard l’écrasa. Aucune échappatoire. Aucune équivoque. Elle aurait pu dire non. Elle aurait dû dire non.

After Lunara Vespirin collapses from an overtime shift, she's shocked to find out that she has transmigrated into a beast world novel. It appears that the original villainess' father, a wandering beastkin named Caius Vespirin, has kidnapped five beastmates so that he can forcibly mate them to her. Right now, said beastmates are on the verge of dying after enduring the torment the villainess has unleashed on them. Soon, they will unleash their dark sides, resulting in the villainess, a.k.a Lunara, dying a terrible death. Lunara quickly comes up with a plan overnight, which involves her clinging to Caius for survival, seeing as he's the strongest beastkin ever. At the same time, she plans on dissolving the mate contracts with the beastmates and staying away from them forever. Using the pocket dimension, Lunara soon busies herself in gathering beast crystals, planting crops, and doing her best to survive in this alien world. But the way her beastmates look at her starts to get tinted by complex emotions. Emory Nagar, a snake beastkin, coils his tail around Lunara, his gaze deep and affectionate. "Luna, you can forget about dissolving my mate contract as long as I live and breathe." Galen Tideborn, a gorgeous merman, wraps his arms around Lunara's waist, his voice extremely enticing. "I'll sing for you all the time. Just don't abandon me, okay?" Levi Janvier, a lionfolk, lowers his prideful head before he begins nuzzling Lunara on the cheek. "I will give my life to you as long as you stay by my side, Lunara." Kieran Crimsworth, known for his seductive charms of a fox, murmurs into Lunara's ear, "I'll make you pay back double for what you did to me in the past, Lunara." The cold and aloof crane beastkin, Cyril Swift, looks down at Lunara coolly. "I don't care who you are or where you're from. You're the only mistress that I will ever have." Lunara is perplexed, to say the least. "Huh? I thought you all hate me because of forced mating! Why is it that you're unwilling to dissolve the mate contracts when it's time for us to do so?"

On m’a traînée sur cette scène comme du bétail, dépouillée de ma dignité et exposée au plus offrant. La foule voulait une jolie petite captive, un jouet. Je pensais que personne ne se soucierait assez de moi pour enchérir. Puis une ombre a bougé, et tout mon monde a vacillé. ELIAS KANE. Le meilleur ami de mon frère défunt. Le garçon qui m’avait autrefois promis de me protéger. Il est désormais l’Alpha impitoyable de la meute la plus puissante de la région. Quand sa main s’est levée pour me réclamer, la salle est devenue silencieuse. Il a dit au monde qu’il m’avait achetée pour me sauver. Mais je sais mieux que ça. Parce que je ne veux pas qu’il me sauve. Je veux me venger. Le sang de mon frère tache encore la terre, et personne n’en a payé le prix. Ni la meute qui lui a tourné le dos. Ni l’Alpha qui a laissé faire. Et si Elias pense que je suis encore la fille fragile qu’il a laissée derrière lui, alors il a déjà perdu. Alors je jouerai le rôle de sa captive. Je porterai sa marque comme des chaînes. Je sourirai quand il grognera, je m’agenouillerai quand il commandera, et je le laisserai croire que je suis sous son pouvoir. Pendant tout ce temps, je chercherai la vérité. Pendant tout ce temps, j’aiguiserai ma lame en secret. Mais la vengeance n’est jamais simple. Pas quand l’Alpha que j’ai juré de haïr fait vaciller mon cœur. Pas quand son contact embrase mon corps. Pas quand le garçon que j’aimais autrefois subsiste dans l’homme que je méprise aujourd’hui. Je suis venue pour le sang. Pour des réponses. Pour la justice.