Bother Synonym

When the mafia heir, Marco Gallante, barged into the family vault with his mistress, I was standing before the Virgin Mary statue, cross-checking bloodstained ledgers. Fiore Albero cowered behind him, pointing at the ledgers in my hands and shrieking, "Marco, I'm scared..." I did not even bother looking up, just flicked the ash off my cigar. However, Marco kicked the desk over with one swift boot. "Chiara Moltisanti, Fiore can't stand the sight of all this blood and violence. Sign the divorce papers, now!" I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, thinking back to the pregnancy report the family doctor had handed me just ten minutes ago. The Gallante bloodline was dying out in this generation. Ever since the eldest son, Luca Gallante, died in that accident, Marco became the sole heir. The Don, Carmine Gallante, dreamed of nothing more than a legitimate boy of pure blood to carry on the family name and glory. So, I smiled, bright and sharp, with unmistakable mockery. "Perfect. Since you want true love, then the Don's throne will never be yours." Besides, I never wanted Marco, that useless fool. What I wanted was the Gallante empire, a mafia dynasty spanning three continents with 100 years of roots, and the control that left him with nowhere to run and no legs to stand on. This time, I would cut him out completely, keep the bloodline, and sit at the head of the family.

Having grown up together, Selena Campbell and Frederick Lancaster were childhood sweethearts known as the perfect golden couple. To support him, she planned every step with painstaking care and calculated each move to perfection. She eliminated every obstacle in his path and paved the way for him to become the only Warbringer in Aurensia. Selena thought their love would eventually lead to marriage. But one day, a plain-looking young woman suddenly walked into Frederick’s life. At first, he said, "A mountain girl like her? She's beneath you, hardly even worth a second glance." Later, he said, "She's simple-minded and naive. Don't bother with her, Lena." But Selena slowly came to realise that the way Frederick looked at her was growing colder by the day. And when he looked at that young woman, there was a spark in his eyes—like he'd come alive again, full of the passion and recklessness of youth. One day, Frederick turned to her with a weary look and said, "Selena, how's our picture-perfect life treating you? Because honestly... I think I'm getting a little tired of it." That very night, Selena tore up the betrothal contract and left without a backward glance. "You won't survive without me!" Frederick roared furiously. But Selena smiled softly. "No. You're nothing without me, Your Highness."

Every week, mt mate Alpha Bruce dragged a new side-chick into our bed. Right in front of me. They clawed at each other like I didn't exist. Each time felt like silver shredding through my chest, my wolf howling from the inside out. He did it to hurt me. On purpose. Over and over. Using their bodies to spit on what we used to be. Then came our ten-year anniversary banquet. He waltzed in with his side-piece—Moye. Five years he'd been screwing her. She wore my heels. My custom gown. Even the mate ring and necklace I once thought meant forever. Bruce stood there, smirking in front of the whole pack. "Don't like what she's wearing? Strip yours and hand it over. And don't bother coming to my bed tonight—she's a hundred times better." The room howled with laughter. I was the punchline. But I stood up, met his eyes, and said, "I want to break the bond." He snorted. "You've said that, what, a hundred times? I'm over it. You begged me to mark you, remember? Gave up your pride for that Luna crown." More laughter. But what none of them saw coming? This time, I was done. Done with him. Done with the Luna title. Done chasing something dead. I was ready to sever the mate bond—for real.

To protect his biological child, the mafia Don deliberately announces to the world that my fiance is his long-lost son. A Rolls-Royce pulls up outside my house. My fiance stares at his custom-tailored suit, his entire body trembling with excitement. I'm about to tell him it's all a lie when he shoves me aside and brushes off his sleeves with disgust, like he's touching something filthy. "Stay away from me. I can smell the poverty on you from here!" "Since I'm the Don's son, our engagement is over. An unwanted nobody like you isn't even fit to lick my boots." I try to explain, but he pulls out a check and slams it against my face—the sharp paper edge slices across my cheek. "Here's a million dollars. Consider it a breakup fee, and don't bother me again. We're not from the same world anymore." Watching the check flutter down into the mud, I quietly dim my phone screen. On it is a text from my father, the mafia Don. "Mia cara figlia, bear with it a little longer. Papa will bring you home soon to take over the family." Since he wants to burn every bridge between us, fine. He can have all this fortune on a silver platter. Whether he'll live long enough to enjoy it is another question entirely.

~PROLOGUE~ ••• She's not married to him legally, But found herself being trapped under this man fingers. This mysterious boss of hers. He calls him little bride, And treat her like one. •~• Atherton, California in America is one of the richest in the state, The rich ones dominated the town, Perhaps you found the poor ones there, They are either maids or squats with one of the workers in the rich family mansion. Magnolia could be found in this category, Her mum Renata works for the Hampson family. She's pretty, A little but skinny but have moderate boobs and ass as well, She has a pale skin, Which she tried her best to maintain for the past years. She talks a lot, And does not easily give into difficult situations, She's brave and cheerful. Mag just graduated from the college and the family were kind enough to let her stay in the mansion. She got lucky, Mag was offered a job as a secretary to the richest man in California, Maynard, From the Alvarez clan. He's rich, Talk less, Handsome, Few people were oppoortuned to see his face,Has no single attraction for women, There were rumours that he has went through lots of facial surgery because he's born ugly. He didn't bother to clear all this rumours since he's strict and work-minded. This pale white lady appointed as his secretary triggers something in him which made the billionaire fall helpessly for her.

I spent three days and three nights decorating the altar for my mating ceremony. My mate, Alpha Alec, used it to pledge himself to another woman. His dead brother’s mate. I rushed to confront him, but before I could speak, Serena clutched her chest and collapsed. Furious, Alec threw me in the silver room, leaving me to suffer as the silver burned through my veins. "My brother died before he could claim her! I was giving Serena the ceremony she deserved. Why did you have to ruin it?" "Serena's wolf is weak because of you. You'll stay here until she wakes up. Think about what you've done." Three years later, the Lycan King, Damien, returned to the North with his mate. He was hosting a summit for the Alliance at a top-tier lakeside resort. Alec arrived with Serena, who was dripping in luxury. He was there to beg Damien for control over the Alliance's new project on the Genetic Decay. He saw me being blocked by the guards and glanced at the file in my hands. "I heard you bonded with some rogue, a worthless wolf with a tainted bloodline, just to spite me. Regretting it now?" "If you beg me, I might consider getting you in." I didn't even bother to look at him. Damien had left a critical report at home. I had to get it to him before the summit meeting.

In the fifth year of my marriage to Kevin Gray, he, a sailor, is reported dead during a mission at sea. When his twin brother brings home his ashes, I break down and sob until I can barely breathe. Nothing can stand in the way of our love—not even death... or so I think. Grief consumes me. I cannot accept the reality of losing him. I try to end my life five times. Every time, Kevin's mother or his brother saves me. They plead with me to let go, to live on. After all, Kevin's last wish was for me to find happiness in every day of the life I had left. But in the third month of mourning, I discover the truth—he never died. He lied to me. He took his twin brother's identity and spent his days by Evelyn Stewart's side. He told me he still loved me, that he couldn't live without me, and that everything he was doing had a reason. He said he'd explain everything after Evelyn gave birth. To protect Evelyn and her unborn child, he asked me to move out for a while—just temporarily, until the baby was born. Then, he promised to bring me home again. Kevin, don't bother coming to get me. I'm not coming back.

He dropped his hands to the side, stepping away, and he voiced. “I’m not sure about having you fucking countless men, Marianne, unless you have chosen to become a whore who is more than willing to please another man’s dick instead of just pleasing one.” He smiled, pushing his hair from his face. I made the conscious decision not to let his words bother me, as it wasn't worth the stress. I said, which got him annoyed further. “I rather please a thousand dicks than yours. So do what you want to me, but I will never marry you.” He suddenly brought out a gun, playfully staring at it and he hint “Not even in a death and life situation.” He aimed the gun directly at me and I took a bold step by moving to him and I pressed my head against the gun. “Then kill me. It has always been my dream to escape from this nightmare.” I was playing with fire, but I won’t back off until we both get burnt. “Pull the trigger.” I breathe. He breath. Both our eyes locked. ****** Kidnapped and sold to a psychopath, a man who finds solace in seeing her in pain while she grips on her remaining hopes of escaping. Marianne finds herself trapped in this endless nightmare with a man who claims to love her by bringing her pain. ***** Trigger warning; This story is not for light-hearted people. Involves very disturbing sex content.

Imagine my shock when I found out that my husband, a professor who had proudly embraced a childless life for half of his years, had an affair with one of his own students. She even had his six-year-old son. The day I planned to report him to the university, Zia Thompson came to my door with the child and knelt in front of me. "Maybe you and Zeke were in love once," she said. "But he's over forty now. Who doesn't want to have a child? A legacy?" "I don't need a title," she went on. "I can give up the child too. I just beg you, don't tear our family apart." I looked at my husband, who stood protectively in front of them. I felt terrifyingly calm. "Cut ties with them," I said, my voice flat, "or prepare to be reported to the university. You choose." Without a moment's hesitation, he tore the report letter into shreds. I thought that was his answer. But on the fifty-second night of a bed grown cold and a home echoing with silence, he still hadn't returned. Instead, I received news that Zia was pregnant again. She had graduated by then. The report I never sent no longer posed any threat to them. Zeke didn't bother to hide his fatigue and irritation anymore. "Treat Zia and the kids well," he said, "or keep living alone in that empty house. It's your choice." My heart was already a wasteland. "I have one more option," I said. "I choose divorce."

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."