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My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."

"Now the most important rule," he paused to gain her full attention and when he was sure she was listening carefully, he added, "we do not touch, or let others touch our body except for shaking hands and friendly hugs, no matter what the case." Bella looked at him and blinked, "but you touched my ass, Lucifer." She accused him again, making him dumbfounded. Lucifer coughed, embarrassed, remembering how he was enjoying touching her and even commented that it was firm and perky. "I was asleep, Bella, I did not know." He was telling the truth. But Bella added, "but you said, in any case, Lucifer." His reason left him speechless once again. Now what should he do? If he said this was an exception, she would ask him to make a list of exceptions. He sighed, "okay, it was a mistake, Bella, I apologise." He replied sincerely, that he should not take advantage of her childlike innocence. It's alright, let me touch your ass, and we will be equal. ****** Lucifer was broke. He didn't have enough money to pay his sister's fees and buy her something for Christmas. He wanted to do something special for her this Christmas, so he took the advice of his best friend and gave his room on rent. But due to the Christmas holidays, he didn't get any applications from men to take the room. In desperation, he accepted the girl who had asked many times for the room. What he doesn't know is that the girl is a demon who ran away from the group that came to destroy the happiness of the festivities.

BOOK ONE OF THE OBSESSION SERIES. ~~~~~~~ "Who hurt you?" Antonio's deep voice cut through the air like daggers. Isabella lowered her eyes timidly, holding on to her wounded arm. "It was Master Pedro." Mario, his bodyguard, answered instead. Antonio said nothing more. He uncrossed his legs and grabbed the large butcher knife on the table. "Wait here." He murmured to Isabella. He stormed into the gambling parlor, his face set in a deep scowl, his eyes burning with rage, his grip tight on the knife. When Pedro spotted him, he grinned and waved. "Antonio, have you come to join us?" Antonio marched up to him, grabbed his hand and chopped it off. Pedro's painful scream echoed all over the gambling room. "Don't touch what is mine!" … Orphaned at a young age, Isabella Valdez always thought her aunt Sophia who raised her wanted her to have a good life. But it was all a lie. She was being sold off. At the auction center, tied to a stake, she watched as the crowd of men bargained loudly, each trying to buy her for the highest amount. Until a deep, emotionless voice spoke calmly from the crowd. "A hundred thousand pieces of gold." … Don Antonio de Marino is the ruthless El Capo of La Vendetta Oscura, the powerful and most feared mafia organization in Las Vegas. His world revolved around three things: Wealth. Power. Revenge. But nothing could have prepared him for the chaos that came with the innocent Isabella Valdez. … This is a Mafia dark romance story and strongly rated 18. COMING SOON. BOOK TWO: THE BODYGUARD'S OBSESSION BOOK THREE: THE DEVIL'S OBSESSION

I am the long-lost true heir of the Kensington family. In just the second month after reconciling with the Kensington family, I solved a technical problem that the Kensington Corp's Military Research Institute had failed to crack for five whole years. Yet, my adoptive brother, Sean Kensington, the fake heir, exchanged my patent bonus worth millions for a 20-percent-off coupon for a cup of latte. I went to my older sister, Sonya, the CEO, but she simply waved her hand dismissively, completely unconcerned. "Enough, Wesley. Sean just did it for your own good. If you're holding onto that much money, what if some organization set their eyes on you? This way, your safety is protected. "Besides, you've only come to the city not long ago. I doubt you've ever had something like a latte before. Take it as a chance to experience it. I'll even give you another ten dollars. You can buy yourself another cup." I looked at the condescension in her eyes, planning to send the recording to our parents. Yet, I saw on their social media that they had just bought a seaside mansion and a luxury car as a celebration gift for Sean's achievements. Then, I glanced at the coupon they had just sent me. [You did help Sean after all. Your father and I bought you a cake as a reward. Go pick it up yourself.] I checked the price. After discount, it was a mere 13 bucks. They had to be kidding me. I directly dialed the number of Kensington Corp's rival company, Jet Group. "I think the exclusive patent for this new missile should be yours. From now on, all my research results will only be shared with Jet Group."

It was the apocalypse. A zombie apocalypse. We should've been running for our lives, but my girlfriend, Yvonne Brown, refused to. She wanted to buy as much time as she could for her incompetent childhood friend, Yves Claude, to hop into the last helicopter that would take survivors away. But the retreat was our group's only way to survive in this apocalypse. Yves was not showing up anytime soon. I had no choice but to knock her out and drag her into the chopper. And Yves, the one she could never seem to forget, died in the swarm of undead. I, however, survived thanks to what I did. Yvonne and I lived happily in a safe zone. And then that fateful day came. I was going to take over the territory and lead humanity on an attack against the zombies. The night before that decisive strike, Yvonne spiked my water with anesthetics. When I was caught helpless, she tossed me into the horde of zombies. The swarm of undead tore my flesh open, and the pain killed me. Yvonne? She stood on the wall coldly, a sneer decorating her lips. "Yves could've lived, but you took that chance away from him! You selfish monster, you killed Yves! I will make you suffer what he suffered! You'll pay for it with your life!" Death took me, but it tossed me all the way back to the day of the retreat. The day Yvonne adamantly insisted on waiting for Yves. Well, if she was so happy to live through a world like this with her friend, who am I to say no? I would grant her that wish, even if she would end up as zombie food.

At the age of twenty, I mated to my father's best friend, Lucian, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack despite our age difference. He was eight years older than me and was known in the pack as the cold-hearted King of Hell. He was ruthless in the pack and never got close to any she-wolves, but he was extremely gentle and sweet towards me. He would buy me the priceless Fangborn necklace the next day just because I casually said, "It looks good." When I curled up in bed in pain during my period, he would put aside Alpha councils and personally make pain suppressant for me, coaxing me to drink spoonful by spoonful. He would hug me tight when we mated, calling me "sweetheart" in a low and hoarse voice. He claimed I was so alluring that my body had him utterly addicted as if every curve were a narcotic he couldn't quit. He even named his most valuable antique Stormwolf Armour "For Elise". For years, I had believed it was to commemorate the melody I had played at the piano on our first encounter—the very tune that had sparked our love story. Until that day, I found an old photo album in his study. The album was full of photos of the same she-wolf. You wouldn’t believe this, but we looked like twin sisters! The she-wolf in one of the photos was playing the piano and smiling brightly. The back of the photo said, "For Elise." ... After discovering the truth, I immediately drafted a severance agreement to sever our mate bond. Since Lucian only cared about Elise, no way in hell I would be your Luna Alice anymore.

My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out. I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste. He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered. So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice. But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan. Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked. He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood. Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one. Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air. "Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities." "You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?" A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder. They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood. I said nothing. I just nodded. Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned. But he didn't know. I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood. There was no "us" anymore.

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

In the new world order, humans are nothing but property. Omegas, wolves, and rogues rank higher, leaving humans powerless, destined for collar and chain. She grows up knowing this, but hopes for mercy when her turn comes—a gentle Alpha, a kind Luna, someone who will put her to work but leave her body her own. On the night of her auction, hope dies. She is purchased by Caelan Black, Alpha of the feared Ironfang Pack. Cold, violent, and legendary for his cruelty, Caelan doesn’t buy humans for labor—he buys them for heirs. From the first night, he makes it clear: she is not his mate. She is not his Luna. She is his breeding pet—a body to keep in his bed until she bears his pups. Collared and caged, she fights him, refusing to bend. But Caelan is patient in his cruelty, teaching her submission with hands, mouth, and punishing nights that leave her trembling yet craving more. Soon, her body betrays her. Desire coils through her veins, and in his eyes, she begins to see something more dangerous than lust—possession. When rival Alphas discover Caelan has bonded with a human, they see weakness. They come for her, threatening to steal his breeder and expose him as unfit to rule. Blood is spilled, war ignites, and in the chaos, she realizes the truth: she is no longer just his pet. She is his obsession, his weakness, his ruin. And when the Goddess herself tests their bond, she must decide—remain the breeder he bought her as… or claim her place as the Luna he swore she could never be.

The day my birth parents found me, the reunion banquet they threw turned into their funeral. My parents and their adopted daughter, Leila, died of food poisoning that night. The only one who survived was my older brother, Alpha Kian. He didn’t like sweets, so he never touched the cake. The cake that I handed to them myself. “So you want to take Leila’s place. “You’re just jealous because she got all our love! “She was the only one who ever accepted you, and you still killed her!” Those were Kian’s exact words as he shouted at me right outside the hospital room. From that day on, I became a sinner. To make up for it, I barely slept four hours a night and worked five jobs just to buy back the villa the rival pack seized during the chaos. However, the day I finally saved up enough, I saw my dead parents throwing a birthday party for Leila in that very villa. Kian stood among them, looking at her with a warmth I didn’t recognize. My mother said, “Isn’t today also Lily’s birthday? It’s been eight years. Maybe it’s time to forgive her.” However, Kian didn’t hesitate to refuse. “No. Even though Leila sniffed out the wolfsbane and saved you, we agreed that Lily gets ten years. “We can’t risk her ever trying to poison Leila again. Not even a day less.” I clutched the diagnosis paper from the clinic tightly and laughed through my tears. I knew I wouldn’t get to ten years. I was already dying.