Novel & Cerita Countdown To Heartbreak

Three years ago, my father sent me to Damian’s side. Every day is a battle of wits with that cold, ruthless Alpha. Every night, I lose myself in his arms. I think… I've finally found the love I am destined for. I was so happy, so sure of our future, that I started planning our bonding ceremony. Until Clara showed up. By then, I realized just how naive I had been. For Clara, Damian locked me away in the isolation cell to teach me a lesson. He spent millions on her without a second thought, but left me alone in a hospital ward unconscious for seven hours. When it came down to life and death, he never hesitated to choose Clara, leaving me bleeding on the ground. The most ironic part? When I finally gave up and walked away, he lost his mind. He started insisting that I am his mate, his one true love. Damian, you're too late.

On New Year's Eve, I went to court for the last time. The judge asked if I still wanted to file for custody of my daughter. I shook my head and said, "I'm here to withdraw my case. I'm going to stop fighting for custody anymore. I agree with the divorce." Vivian and I had been married for nine years, and the divorce had dragged through six hearings. I spent six New Year's Eve in court. There had been no joy, only hysterical accusations. I was tired. My daughter was tired, too. So, I finally stopped holding on. I had already booked my flight home for the year.

I have been the perfect wife to Marcus Blackwood, the powerful CEO of a billion-dollar empire, for five years. What I never knew was that the woman living under my roof as his "cousin" was his secret lover — and together, they had been quietly accelerating the brain cancer already killing me. But I woke up this time with something I never had before. Memories. Of my last life.. Now I’ve got three weeks left to live. So what does a dying woman with nothing left to lose do with a billionaire's darkest secrets? She burns it all down..

"Are you sure about this, Nancy? Marrying that powerful man means ending things with Tad." "I'm sure. But not yet. Don't tell anyone. Especially not Celia." Celia — the girl I once begged my father to adopt, the one I defended and called sister — betrayed me. The two men who used to treat me like their world — my boyfriend Tad and our family friend Leo — now orbit around her like moths to a flame. I thought I saved her, but she only wanted to replace me. When Celia fell, they blamed me. When she got shot, they blamed me again. When I was in a car crash, they said it was an excuse to avoid "taking care of Celia." But I am Don DeLuca's daughter. And no one treats me this way and walks away unscathed. My boyfriend? He can go to hell. My so-called friends? They can rot with him.

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.

I'm the only daughter of the Alpha King. My father's always been swamped with pack affairs, so I grew up in Howler, raised among the wolves there. The Alpha of Howler had two sons, and they were my shadows growing up. Logan was gentle and doting. Derek was wild and electric. They both pursued me, adored me, fought for my attention in ways that made every wolf in the pack green with envy. I thought I'd choose one of them as my mate someday. I really did. Then Rose showed up. She was beautiful. A gifted healer. Capable in ways I never was. When Derek came back wounded from a skirmish, Rose was the one stitching him up. When Logan got buried in pack business, Rose was right there beside him, smoothing out every problem like it was nothing. Logan started singing her praises in front of me, always finding ways to mention how I wasn't mature enough, not independent enough, not enough. Derek promised me a gift once. He gave it to Rose instead. And the night I nearly died during my first shift? They were both with Rose. Because she had a scratch. They had their red rose. They didn't need their faded moon anymore. So I left. Went back to my father, the Alpha King. I told myself it was over. That we shouldn't have any ties. But then why—why did they beg me to come back?

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

My daughter, who'd always hated the cold, suddenly started begging to vacation in the freezing Northern Territories. I dismissed it as a passing whim and told her no. I never thought she'd actually soak herself in a tub of ice for two days straight, just to prove she wasn't afraid of the cold. I gave in. I took her north. My mate, Cassian, stayed behind to handle pack affairs. The North was bitter. After only a few days, my daughter started showing signs of cold-sickness, coughing constantly. I wasn't going to gamble with her health. I decided to bring her home immediately. But my daughter threw a fit. At the time, I thought she just loved the North too much to leave. Until I happened to overhear her conversation with my husband, Cassian: "Daddy! These last few days in the North, I put scent-blocker in Mommy's water every single day! Aren't I clever? Now she'd never find out about you and Auntie Kayla!" "Mommy is so annoying, always nagging! I wish Auntie Kayla were my mommy instead!" I stood there cold, watching the cozy little scene inside the room, gripping the vial of scent-blocker I'd just dug out of my daughter's backpack — the drug meant to numb the link between Cassian and me. Fine. If they loved Kayla so much, then let them have her. I'd give them my blessing. So why, after I gave you everything you wanted, did the three of you end up on your knees begging for my forgiveness?

When Vivienne Carter married Sebastian Cross at twenty-two, everyone said how lucky she was. He was ten years older, a mafia Don with terrifying power in his hands, and yet for three years he doted on her alone. He indulged her in everything, kept her sheltered under his wing, tender and attentive down to the smallest detail. Only in the dead of night did he turn possessive and overpowering, taking without limit, never once relenting even when she begged him through tears. She had always been certain she was the one thing he loved. Then her father died without warning. Drowning in grief, she called him ninety-nine times, and every call was cut off. In an instant, a single photo shattered every illusion she had. On a Paris street softened by dusk, the man she'd loved for three years was bending to hold another woman. That woman, gentle-featured and faintly resembling her, was her cousin.

Adrian Vale was the Don the whole city feared, and yet he spent three years chasing me, a girl who waited tables. Then, the night before our wedding, my best friend Nina Ashford and I were taken at the same time. With the cold muzzle of a gun against my forehead, I cried out, my voice shaking, “Let Nina go! She’s innocent!” The kidnapper laughed like I’d told a joke. “Innocent? She’s worth a hell of a lot more than you.” My whole body went rigid. The next second he leaned down to my ear, his smile pure malice. “You really think Adrian’s marrying you because he loves you?” “The day you tried on your wedding dress, he was fucking Nina on your bed.” “And that black ring, the one that stands for the Don’s power? He put it on Nina’s finger a long time ago.” I shook my head, over and over, refusing to believe it. But the kidnapper had already stopped looking at me. He dialed Adrian’s number. “Mr. Vale, you need to make a choice. Your bride, or Miss Ashford. Only one of them walks out of here alive.” “Which one do you choose?” In that instant, I forgot how to breathe. On the other end, Adrian was quiet for only a few seconds. Then he said it, perfectly calm. “Let Nina go.”