Bonnie And Clyde Yuqi Novels & Stories

My mother and sister never liked me. The only son they ever truly cared about was my older brother, Lucian Vieri. Before she married me, Serafina Valcieri, the only daughter of one of the most feared syndicates in the country, was always the one who stepped in when I was cornered, mocked, or blamed for things that were never mine to carry. She never said much. She just made people back off. Then she married me. Then, not long ago, Lucian shoved me off a ski slope. I said he meant to kill me. My mother called it an accident. My sister said he had only been trying to save me. Only Serafina believed me. When I woke up in the hospital, I heard voices outside the door. “Who told you to do it like that?” Serafina said, her voice low and cold. My mother answered in a panic. “Lucian’s leukemia can’t wait. If Cassian learns the baby isn’t his, everything falls apart.” Then Serafina said the words I still can’t forget. “I chose him, and I married him for my own reasons. But Lucian still needs this child. If anything had happened to Cassian, none of you would have walked away from it.” I stood there in silence, listening to every word. The child my wife was carrying was never mine. It had been conceived through IVF to save my brother. And the marriage I had trusted from the beginning had never belonged to me alone. I had spent my whole life coming second to Lucian. I just never thought Serafina would be the one to prove it. If no one truly wanted me, then I would leave.

El día del terremoto, mi hermana Elena me empujó desde el tercer piso; luego rompió a llorar y juró que solo había intentado salvarme. Todo el mundo le creyó. La única persona que se puso de mi lado fue Nicoló, el jefe mafioso más joven que había visto Sicilia en décadas. Me sacó entre los escombros con sus propias manos, me pidió matrimonio frente a todos y sentenció que, desde ese día, quien se atreviera a tocarme tendría que responder ante él. Dos meses después, quedé embarazada. Nicoló compró una isla entera y la cubrió de lirios, mis flores favoritas, todo para nuestra boda. Mi padre gastó una fortuna en un vestido de novia único, confeccionado exclusivamente para mí. Todos decían que yo era la mujer más envidiable de toda la familia. Pero cuando llegó el momento del parto, ambos desaparecieron sin dejar rastro. Mi padre me explicó que la familia tenía un trato crucial en juego. Nicoló besó mi vientre abombado, murmuró que volvería pronto y prometió traer regalos para mí y para nuestro bebé. Justo antes de que me llevaran en camilla a la sala de partos, un video anónimo llegó a mi celular. En las imágenes, Nicoló vestía el traje de novio. A su lado estaba Elena, con una mano reposando sobre su propio vientre embarazado y luciendo mi vestido de novia. Se aferraba al brazo de mi prometido, como si lo hubiera conquistado con total legitimidad. Al final del video, mi padre bajó el tono de voz y preguntó: —Si tú y Valentina solo mantienen un matrimonio de papel, ¿qué será del hijo que ella va a dar a luz? Nicoló guardó silencio durante dos segundos antes de responder con frialdad: —Valentina lo tuvo todo desde la infancia. Elena ha cargado toda su vida con la mancha de ser hija ilegítima. Su hijo no tendrá que vivir con ese estigma. Comprendí entonces que toda esa ternura nunca había sido para mí. Estaba destinada a Elena. Bien. Que se tengan el uno al otro.

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

On the day of the earthquake, my sister Elena shoved me off the third floor, then burst into tears and said she had only been trying to save me. Everyone believed her. The only person who stood on my side was Nicolo, the youngest mafia boss Sicily had seen in decades. He lifted me out of the rubble, then proposed to me in front of everyone and said that from that day on, anyone who touched me would answer to him. Two months later, I was pregnant. Nicolo bought an entire island and planted it with my favorite irises for our wedding. My father spent a fortune on a one-of-a-kind gown made just for me. Everyone said I was the most envied woman in the family. Then I went into labor, and both of them disappeared. My father said the family had a deal on the line. Nicolo kissed my swollen belly, murmured that he would be back soon, and promised to bring gifts for me and the baby. Right before I was wheeled into the delivery room, an anonymous video landed on my phone. Nicolo was wearing a groom's suit. Elena stood beside him with a hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She was wearing my wedding dress. Her arm was looped through my fiance's as if she had won him fair and square. At the end of the clip, my father asked in a lowered voice, "If you and Valentina stay married only on paper, what happens to the child she gives birth to?" Nicolo was quiet for two seconds before he answered. "Valentina grew up with everything. Elena spent her whole life carrying the stain of being illegitimate. Her child will not grow up the same way." So all that tenderness had never been for me. It had all been for Elena. Fine. They could have each other.

An accidental act of heroism reshaped Sera’s life entirely. She lost her sight saving the grandmother of a stranger. In return for her goodness, she was forced into marriage with the old woman’s grandson, Lucian Vitale. He was a mysterious businessman with no interest in love, and as people whispered, colder than ice. Given her circumstances, Sera had no choice but to accept. She became his pretend wife, bound by contract. It was a kind of relationship she’d never imagined living. Sera had never planned to fall for a man she’d never seen. But with every touch, every murmur from Lucian, she was slowly pulled under by longing and feelings that should never have taken root. In darkness, she learned to love—and to bleed. Then came the day her vision returned. She heard a truth that shattered her world and tore at her heart. Frightened beyond reason, Sera ran and vanished. She carried a secret in her womb: the child of their passionate nights together. Four years slipped by. A man stepped back into her life. Same voice, same scent, same way his hands found hers… but he did not know her. He had amnesia. Can Sera escape the man who once meant everything to her? Or is this fate’s way of calling them back to settle what they began—in their beds, their hearts, and the secrets that still wait to be told? Between lies, desire, and memories… will they choose each other still?

Malam sebelum pernikahanku, aku baru mengetahui bahwa aku hamil. Dan, pada malam itu juga, aku mengetahui bahwa tunanganku telah memilih wanita lain untuk memberinya anak pertama. Andre Diandra, pewaris kerajaan bisnis mafia dan pria yang pernah bersumpah bahwa aku adalah satu-satunya wanita yang akan dicintainya, pulang membawa aroma parfum wanita lain di bajunya dan mengatakan kepadaku, seolah-olah itu adalah hal yang paling masuk akal di dunia, bahwa itu semua hanyalah pengaturan medis. Janda temannya yang telah meninggal membutuhkan seorang ahli waris, dan setelah aku gagal memberinya seorang anak melalui enam puluh enam kali program bayi tabung, dia memutuskan bahwa ini adalah solusi terbaik untuk semua orang. Aku tidak mengatakan apa pun. Aku membiarkannya melanjutkan persiapan pernikahan. Aku membiarkannya percaya bahwa aku akan tetap berjalan di altar dan menjadi Nyonya Diandra. Tetapi, sementara dia merencanakan upacara pernikahan kami, aku merencanakan kepergianku. Pada hari pernikahan kami, gedung itu akan tetap membuka pintu, dan para tamu akan tetap datang. Upacaranya pun akan tetap dimulai. Tetapi pengantin wanita yang dikhianati Andre akan mati di sana. Pada saat dia mengetahui kebenaran, bahwa aku telah mengandung anaknya selama ini, aku sudah pergi dengan nama baru, membawa anaknya ke suatu tempat yang tidak akan pernah bisa dia jangkau.

After Seraphina Vale stole three men fate had once chosen for me, I swore I would never let another wolf claim me. Until Dorian Blackthorn, the Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, claimed me in front of everyone. He swore his loyalty under the moon oath, turning away every approach from Seraphina. He even called out her behavior publicly in the council hall. For the first time, I thought I had found a wolf worth entrusting my soul to. Three years into marriage, I saw Seraphina again. Someone asked her, “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” She licked her lips, eyes unfocused. “Of course, having Dorian Blackthorn mark me. His mate still foolishly thinks he truly hates me.” “In truth, I’ve borne his pup, lived in his territory, driven his car, spent his money.” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. After all, I was Dorian’s Lunna. I did not react. I simply sent the letter I had drafted for three days to the Black Moon Medical Team. The reply came swiftly to my mind: [Your appointment has been confirmed.] [The Black Moon Medical Team welcomes you as its new chief healer. Your office and residence have been prepared.] My wolf growled low in my chest. In two days, I would leave this pack and take up my new post.

Lucien Varelli loved me best when my madness belonged to him. I tracked his convoy routes, checked his burner phones, and almost turned the city upside down whenever he disappeared for more than five minutes. At first, Lucien loved it. He kissed the signet ring on my hand and swore no woman, no family, no power in the city could ever take him from me. Until the night I cut off a call from Celeste Ardian. After that, I was no longer his wife. I was a problem. A scandal. A woman too unstable to stand beside the heir of a ruling house. So Lucien signed the papers and sent me to St. Dymphna House. They called it a private residential clinic. What it really was, was a place where inconvenient women were broken down and rebuilt into something quieter. Five years later, Lucien came to take me home. The director told him I had done beautifully. I no longer screamed. I no longer fought. I knew how to lower my eyes, soften my voice, keep my hands still, and smile like a proper Donna. Lucien thought they had cured me. He was wrong. They had not cured my madness. They had only killed the part of me that once loved him.

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.

The night before my wedding, I found out I was pregnant. That same night, I found out my fiancé had already chosen another woman to give him his first child. Adrian DeLuca, heir to a mafia empire and the man who once swore I was the only woman he would ever love, came home carrying her perfume on his clothes and told me, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that it was only a medical arrangement. His dead friend’s widow needed an heir, and after I had failed to give him one through sixty-six rounds of IVF, he had decided this was the best solution for everyone. I said nothing. I let him go on preparing the wedding. I let him believe I would still walk down the aisle and become Mrs. DeLuca. But while he was planning our ceremony, I was planning my disappearance. On our wedding day, the estate would still open its doors. The guests would still arrive. The ceremony would still begin. But the bride Adrian DeLuca betrayed would die there. By the time he learned the truth, that I had been carrying his child all along, I would already be gone under a new name, taking his heir somewhere he could never reach.