Romans & histoires Born As The Villainess Daughter

To erase me from this world of beautiful wolves and powerful bloodlines. But the Goddess never listened. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t like them. I was the bastard daughter of Lord Damon Blackthorn and a forgotten maid who had died birthing me. A mistake. An accident. A dirty secret that Selene scrubbed and whipped and scolded into submission every day since I could remember. I was a bad omen. Pups whose mothers die while giving birth are to be thrown into the forbidden forest to be feasted on by the rogues but my father had been “kind” enough to have me spared.

And now that you've come to my kingdom I won't let you go until I kill you. Dark couldn't believe his eyes, he was expecting to see a little girl who would crawl to her feet at the very sight of him and not the most beautiful creature he had set his eyes on. His gaze swept slowly at her body, taking in her features that could drive a sane man and met her glaring eyes. He gave her a sinister smile. She was the daughter of the man who had betrayed his own friend and had made his mother commit suicide afterwards. If he wasn't the son of the five Princes of Hell and had not torn off his mother's stomach and crawled out of it, he would have been long dead.

All he wanted was power, and he doesn't care if that means he has to kill his own daughter. Verena could only sob in her arms as she buried her face in them. This has to be the most cruel joke that the universe could have given her. All this time, she has thought that she is the chosen one. The one who could end it all, someone who is deserving of a very great title, 'daughter of the moon,' when in fact she's the daughter of that monster

When she looked into Alexia's past, she knew then that the woman was only a broken villain. She was sitting on the bed with Gladys in her arms when she walked in and requested the children. She knew she would come for them but she was a witch queen and the woman was only but an omega wolf. The weakest breed of werewolves. The woman dared to challenge her. She wanted to teach her a little lesson but when she saw the woman chanting a spell, she knew what it meant. Her daughter was dead. The woman threw her off guard and she hit her back to the wall before falling to the ground. She knew it was over. The woman took her daughter's powers and killed her, and now she was going to kill her too. And

It was cruelty. “Well, well,” she purred, voice syrupy and poisonous, “the little pet’s still breathing.” My jaw clenched. Valentina Greco. A name that dripped with legacy and cruelty. Daughter of New York's most feared mafia clan, a woman born with blood on her hands and diamonds at her throat. Our families had once shared power like gods. Until Damian razed mine to ash. She hated me. Not because I wronged her, but because I existed where she wanted to be—near him.

Then she curled onto her side, tears burning hot trails down her cheeks. Donatella Lombardi. Daughter of a traitor. Born into betrayal. The ceiling above her blurred, the walls felt too close, and somewhere deep in her bones she knew—her life had just been split into before and after. SAINT PETERSBURG, RUSSIA (THE BRATVA'S EMPIRE)

Made me a mother to his psychotic daughter because I look like her. He’s connected to Lord Lucifer and Alanjadro. A hardened criminal. An evil mafia boss who belongs in hell. My father will destroy both of us and break hell open. “He hates criminals,” she whispered to her reflection. But her heart was already full of Vincenzo. She dried off, slipped into fresh clothes, and climbed onto her bed. She curled up, daydreaming about his kiss, his touch, his voice and his innocent babyish look. She smiled into her pillow, even as tears slipped free.

He had a story to turn him into the villain. Her mother did, too. Drusilla, though evil, wasn't born that way. She had a story, much too similar to Liviana's, with an unhappy, cruel mother who was as angry at the world and a father who was much too happy to sell her off to the highest bidder. And Drusilla's husband turned out to be no better than her father. Drusilla was trapped, spending her life in a cage, just as Liviana had. The only difference is Liviana had been given a key to her freedom while Drusilla was damned to spend the rest of her life rotting. Liviana had to understand her mother's resentment. She had to understand that as awful as her mother was; it wasn't who she started out

I earned their trust inch by inch, slowly clawing my way up from being a nobody until even the pack elders listened to me when I spoke. This pack was supposed to be mine. It belonged to me by right of effort. I had a plan. Once Father was finally out of the way, everything would fall perfectly into its place. The warriors would all kneel to me. The omegas would crawl at my feet. The elders would beg for my favor. Every wolf in the Shadow Pack would only exist because I allowed them to live. They were all going to be my slaves. And now? Now his precious “real daughter” appears out of nowhere like a ghost from the past. Suddenly, I am the villain of the story. Suddenly, I am the one being whip

The tears I’d fought so hard to hold finally broke free, falling hot and fast. But they weren’t tears of weakness. They were on fire. They were furious. They were the beginning of something else entirely. Because if all of this was true, then I wasn’t just some pawn in Nolan’s game. I wasn’t just a broken girl locked in a fortress. I was the daughter of Selene Morwen. A witch’s child. A weapon born of blood and fire. And I was done being silent. Somewhere deep inside, I felt it—something stirring, shifting, awakening. The faint whisper of a voice I hadn’t heard in years.