Christmas Letters

Adrian Wells just wants to be left alone. Quiet nights, warm tea, and his sketchpad are all he needs to survive in a world that has taken too much from him already. Scarred by the fire that claimed his family and plagued by anxiety that keeps him from truly living, Adrian has grown used to solitude. But someone else has been watching—and waiting. When a black box appears at his doorstep, filled with unsettlingly personal gifts, Adrian brushes it off as a prank. But the messages grow bolder. The intrusions into his life become impossible to ignore. Someone knows him. Someone sees him. And that someone is Evan Thorn. Evan isn’t just a stalker—he’s a protector in his own twisted way. Rich, intelligent, and obsessive, he believes Adrian is his to love, to shield, to possess. From anonymous letters to watching from the shadows, Evan orchestrates a careful descent into Adrian’s world, eliminating anyone who gets too close. But he isn’t the only one watching. When a more violent rival stalker emerges, Adrian finds himself caught between two versions of danger: the chaos of the unknown and the devil he’s slowly come to understand. As the walls close in, Adrian is forced to rely on Evan—the very man who shattered his sense of safety. What begins as fear turns into something darker: a toxic intimacy that blurs the line between captor and comfort. As Adrian starts to feel seen for the first time in his life, he questions whether love can grow in the shadows—or if it’s just another kind of cage. In a story about obsession, trauma, what, If someone breaks you just to put you back together, is that still love? And when you finally escape them, do they ever really leave?

James Wesley has hated me for a decade after his childhood sweetheart passed away. He requests to be transferred to the frontier the day after we get married. I write him countless letters in those ten years to win back his favor, but his response is always the same. "If you truly regret it, why don't you hurry up and die?" However, after I am abducted, James storms the bandit's hideout by himself and saves me. He suffers multiple bullet wounds, but before he succumbs to his injuries, he uses the last of his strength to slap my hands away. "The thing I regret the most… in this life… is marrying you. If we get a second chance at life… please… don't bother me anymore." His mother, Felicia Axford, sounds regretful during the funeral. "It's all my fault, James. I shouldn't have forced you to marry her…" His father, Jeremiah Wesley, stares at me, his eyes burning with contempt. "You forced Emily to take her own life, and now you also caused my son's death. You're nothing but trouble, so you should just die!" Even Xavier Bowen, our troop commander, who was responsible for facilitating our marriage in the first place, shakes his head and sighs. "I shouldn't have played matchmaker. I let you down, Mr. Wesley." Everyone feels sympathetic toward James, including me. On the night I am discharged from the troop, I swallow some pesticide and die in the middle of an abandoned field. When I open my eyes again, I realize I have returned to the day before my marriage. This time, I am determined to fulfill everyone's wishes.

Kyla Eclipse is the true-born daughter of Beta Albert Eclipse of the Moonveil Pack. At just five years old, tragedy rips her world apart after a bandit attack leaves her mother dead and Kyla lost in the woods for ten years. There, she is taken in by Wynona, a mysterious witch who teaches her forbidden magic and warns her to guard their secret with her life. One day, when Kyla is fifteen years old, she stumbles upon a flyer with her face on it. It also has the name of her pack and a map to find her way home. She says her goodbyes to Wynona and makes her journey back to her father. But the pack she returns to is nothing like the one she remembers. Her father has remarried the cruel Claudia, who has thrust her own daughter, Vivica, into Kyla's place. Vivica thrives as the Beta's "true" heir, while Kyla is tormented, mocked, and scarred by the mysterious fire that nearly kills her the night she comes home. Three years later, Vivica is engaged to Tormund, the Alpha's son and the only man Kyla has ever loved. But just days before the wedding, Vivica takes her own life, leaving behind letters blaming Kyla for her misery. Enraged, Tormund goes into the woods to release his anger, only to suffer a tragic accident that leaves him crippled forever. Desperate and heartbroken, the Alpha and Luna promise anything to the one who can heal their son. Under pressure from her father, Kyla's darkest secret is exposed when he reveals that he knows about her witchcraft. Cornered, betrayed, and desperate to seize control of her fate, Kyla faces the Alpha and Luna with an unflinching demand: "I can heal Tormund... but my only wish is to marry your son."

Every Christmas Eve, the heir of the Marco mafia family—Adrian Marco, must follow the family tradition: Draw a name to decide whether he’s allowed to marry me. Because I, Irene Cast, am not mafia-born. Unless he draws the slip with my name on it, he can’t take me as his wife. For four years, Adrian has drawn four times. And not once did he draw my name. I always thought he fought with his family because of me— that he was willing to risk losing his position as the Don, just to choose me. Every time he failed, he held me so tightly and whispered, “It’s okay. There’s always next year.” And I loved him so much it hurt. Hurt enough that I was willing to wait, year after year. This year, I told myself: If he still doesn’t draw my name… I’ll secretly switch the result. I sneaked to the door of Adrian’s study, and heard his younger brother ask: “Don… every year you do draw Irene's name. Why do you pretend you didn’t? Is it because you still can’t let Sera go?” But he simply said, in a flat voice, “Sera needs me for something urgent. Do what you always do: swap Irene’s name for a blank one.” He walked out without looking back. Instead of swapping, he tossed the blank slip into the trash, left the one with my name on the table, and hurried after Adrian. I went inside, picked up the blank slip from the trash, and replaced the one with my name. Watching my own name fall into the garbage. Adrian…I don’t want to wait and marry you anymore. I’ll grant you your choice.

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

“You think coming here and apologizing solves it? Do you think it’s going to ease my pain? The pain you inflicted on me?” I yelled at him, my chest burning with all the pent up anger, waiting to be unleashed. Ashton reached out to touch me, but I slapped his hand away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but I couldn’t care less. “I’m sorry, Helen. I promise to do better. Please, give me a second chance.” I scoffed. What a joke! “We are divorced, Ashton.” Ashton shook his head as if willing himself not to believe what I was saying. “I never sent you divorce papers, Hel. And…” he trailed off while I stared at him with creased brows. “We aren’t divorced. I never signed my part.” ***** For three years, Helen tried to be the perfect wife despite being labeled as incompetent, barren and worthless. She put up with her husband’s ignorance and mother-in-law’s insults for the sake of maintaining peace and keeping her marriage. But what she didn’t expect was a video of her husband in bed with his secretary on Christmas Eve when she planned to break the news of her pregnancy to him. And worse — His secretary threw a divorce paper which her husband had drafted at her face and asked her to beat it. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she left and returned six years later with dashing triplets. But what she didn’t expect was her husband wanting her back. As if that wasn’t enough, she was about to find out that there was more to what happened six years ago, and everything she thought she knew…were all lies. Will the holiday spirit be enough to bring them together again?

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

"Good evening, Mom. How was your day?" "My day was good, my love. How is yours going?" Her voice was a soothing balm against the stress of the day. "It’s... busy. My boss gave me a mountain of work to finish before tomorrow morning, so I won't be coming home tonight. I’m going to stay late and then head straight back in." "Oh, my dear," she sighed. "Just be careful. Don't get into any trouble." "I won't, Mom. Did you take your medication?" I asked, knowing how she tended to forget when I wasn't there to nag her. "Ah... I’ll take it now." "Mom, please. You need to stay strong for me." "I will, I will. I love you, Annabelle." "Love you too." After I hung up, the silence of the office felt even heavier. The lights were dimmed, except for the glow from my monitor and the soft yellow light spilling from Elias’s office. He was still in there, a silhouette of intense focus as he reviewed the project details. Suddenly, a sharp ping echoed through the quiet room. I jumped slightly, my eyes snapping to my computer screen. Unknown Email. No encrypted address. No profile picture No signature. Whoever sent this, don't want to be traced. "What is this?" I muttered, my skin crawling with a sudden, inexplicable chill. The subject line was written in bold, stark capital letters: BEFORE THE INVESTMENT. My pulse shifted into a frantic rhythm. I hesitated, my mouse hovering over the notification. When I finally clicked, my breath hitched. It wasn't just a message; it was a cache of attached documents, internal financial transfers, offshore account statements, and adjusted revenue projections. I realized instantly that these were different from the official files Elias had given me.

WARNING: 18+ readers only. RAE: Alpha Jason Kane is my mate but he doesn’t love me. His nonchalance pushed me into the arms of another man, and then I realized he was Jason’s estranged son. But that’s not all. At work, I signed a contract to document the life of a star hockey player, whom I have to live with and work closely with for the next six months. I just had no idea my mate’s estranged son was the same person again. It seems I can’t avoid Malachar Kane no matter what I do. We’re tied together by fate and bound by something forbidden. MALACHAR: I was cursed by the moon goddess to remain on earth to guard her moon power and destroy anyone who tries to steal it. So when I moved to LA two years ago, the plan was simple. Blend in as a hockey prodigy. Discover the newest thief. Annihilate the threat. Now Rachel Rosier was never supposed to be in the picture. I had thought she would be a random fuck on a cold Christmas night, but she wasn’t. She ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t even breathe without flashbacks from that night. And just when I’m about to complete my mission in this city, I find out she’s married to the Alpha I must kill. The man I call father. Rachel is not just my step mom now. She’s bound to my enemy, and so, I must take her life, too. But I want her like crazy. I shouldn’t. It’s a sin. She’s forbidden on so many grounds, but if I can’t have her, no one will.

"I may be blind, Rain, but trust me, I’ll never miss the right hole or the perfect positions to put you in. My eyes don’t stop me from taking you until your legs give out. Open wide for me, wifey." Enzo Salvatore DeLuca, the ruthless billionaire mafia don, was untouchable—until the accident that stole his sight. Now, with time running out, he needs an heir to secure his legacy, and Rain is forced to take her stepsister's place as his bride. Rain always dreamed of a Christmas wedding with the perfect husband, but marrying a blind stranger wasn’t in her fantasies. How could a man who couldn’t see fulfill her wildest desires? He’d need help with everything, and she couldn’t imagine how he’d live up to the man she’d always fantasized about. What she doesn’t know is that he sees every move she makes, from the constant bite of her lips whenever he talks, to the way she walks around naked in the room, thinking he wouldn’t see her anyway, down to the way she watches him with longing whenever he’s changing. What he lacks in sight, he makes up for in raw intensity, dominance, and an ability to give her everything she never dared to ask for. He doesn’t do love. He doesn’t do gentle. But with Rain, he might just find more than the healing he never thought possible, and the revenge he had been seeking. "If you ask me, the only reason I need eyes is to see your eyes rolling back when I fuck you. But for now, baby girl, I want to hear it. Let me hear you moan for me.”