Crime Drama Book Novels & Stories

My husband, Colton Skye, is away on a business trip for two months. When he returns, he and his true love appear at the arrival hall together. I notice the slight swell of her stomach and am about to ask about it when Colton scornfully pushes me away. "Don't touch Darlene with your dirty hands—she's pregnant. I'll kill you if she falls sick!" Then, he gently holds Darlene Williams' hand. "You must be tired. Let's head home." He doesn't even spare me a glance as he leaves with Darlene in tow. I silently rub the spot where he shoved me as I watch them leave. Then, I contact a divorce lawyer. It looks like this ten-year marriage has ultimately come to an end.

I stared down at the contract, a wave of defiance bubbling up in me. I turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. "I never asked for your help," I said, "I would've found a way to save my mother on my own. You may think you own me, but I'd rather die than marry you." A slow smile crept across his face, a smug, knowing look that sent a chill down my spine. He knew exactly what I was thinking, as if my resistance only entertained him. "Look at me," he commanded. I reluctantly turned back, locking eyes with him. His face had shifted, his expression darkened, and for the first time, true fury was etched in his eyes. "I’ll count to ten," he said, "If that contract isn’t signed by the time I reach ten, I’ll make the same call I made to pay those bills. Only this time, the instructions will be different. Your mother... your sister…they’ll both be gone." He took a breath, settling back as if the threat were a mere matter of routine. "So… ONE!!" I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Could he be bluffing? No, I'd seen him kill before, seen how casually he turned life and death into sports. "FOUR," he counted. My hands started to shake. What could I do? If I signed, I'd be bound to him forever, trapped as his wife. But if I didn’t... my mother and sister’s lives hung in the balance. "SEVEN." I closed my eyes, fighting the panic rising in my chest. He wouldn’t do it, I told myself. He couldn’t be that monstrous. But even as I thought it, the doubt crept in. I wasn’t sure. Then, he hit "TEN" himself

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

My mafia boyfriend, Finn, is always bickering with his childhood friend, Amanda. For my birthday, she brought me a bullet vibe. "Here. For round two, just in case. I know his stamina better than anyone." He tossed a bottle of pale foundation at her. "Slap some more on. Maybe then someone will actually want to touch you." They shoved each other on their way out, slamming the door behind them. The candles on the cake burned down to nothing while I sat alone at the dining table. The first time our families sat down for a formal dinner, she smiled and slipped him a small bottle of lube. "Take it. So you don't make the poor girl suffer." His face darkened. "Better than you crying at night, hugging a body pillow." This time, Finn had arranged a private island vacation. A mutual friend quietly gave me a heads-up, telling me he was planning to propose on a cliff at sunset. After a seven-year marathon, I told myself this was it. The finish line was finally in sight. I dressed meticulously, putting on my most expensive dress, and walked toward the helipad. I pulled open the helicopter door. Amanda was already in the co-pilot's seat. She raised an eyebrow at me. "Chloe, you're here? I'm claustrophobic, so you don't mind if I sit up front, right?" Finn, gripping the controls, turned to look me over. "Chloe, you sit in the back. I'm worried she'll have a meltdown and start scratching and biting. It'll ruin the mood." Before I could say a word, Amanda was already arguing with him. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm a burden?" "It's not the first time I've thought so. Why are you being so dramatic today?" Their back and forth was so practiced it felt like a script they had rehearsed a thousand times. In that moment, the exhaustion of the past seven years washed over me. And for the first time, I realized I didn't want to say yes to his proposal anymore.

My wife, Caroline Bailey, was a forensic pathologist. For her first love, Ian Lawson, she was willing to break every rule she held sacred and allowed him into the autopsy room to observe. She even let him throw acid onto a corpse's face. That was, until Caroline took on a new case. As she stood over the disfigured body on her operating table, she began to fall apart. The acid-burned face was starting to look more and more like mine.

Everyone in the company knows one thing about Ethan Jang. Our CEO has no heart. Cold. Emotionless. Brutal enough to fire someone before they finish “Good morning.” So imagine my shock when I walk into his office at 2 a.m. and catch the “Ice King of Seoul” ugly-crying over a K-drama, clutching a tissue and whispering, “Don’t die, Eun-bi… please…” I should’ve backed out slowly. Instead, he saw me. Now Ethan Jang billionaire, perfectionist, professional soul-crusher — is doing everything to shut me up: bribing me with bonuses, threatening to transfer me to Antarctica, and begging me (yes, begging) to keep his midnight K-drama breakdowns a secret. But hiding it becomes impossible when: • He accidentally quotes K-drama love lines during meetings. • He drags me into a fake-dating scandal to protect his image. • He insists on “rehearsing” romantic confession scenes with me… too close, too intensely. • And worst of all, his cold façade starts cracking — and I’m starting to like what I see underneath. He’s all logic and walls. I’m chaos, emotions, and bad decisions. We were never meant to mix… yet somehow we’re falling into the messiest, funniest, and most unexpected romance of our lives. Because the scariest man in the company isn’t heartless after all he’s just been waiting for someone to rewrite his script.

“I walked away once. This time, I'm taking everything back, starting with my revenge.” Alexander Brooks turned his back on the mafia life, but betrayal forces him to embrace to cold arms of crime in a quest to take revenge on all those who wronged him. As he reclaims his throne, Emily Watson; a reporter threatens to expose him. What happens when Alexander finds out that the reporter was the lady he had a one night stand which resulted to the shocking discovery that she was she mother of his children? Now, with Enemies closing in and his family's secret at risk, Alexander must protect what is his, even if it meant crossing his boundaries.

A cold and ruthless Mafia Kingpin, "kill or be killed" is what Louis lives by... Until he meets Sarina: a sexy, mysterious woman who turns his life upside down. Follow Louis's journey as he transitions from a young, teenage boy into a mob boss, as he is influenced by his crime lord stepfather Steve Sawyers. Watch Louis as he is thrown into a dark and dangerous world of drug smuggling, gun trafficking, money laundering, fraud, sex, psychopaths and murderers... There aren't any friends on these streets.

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

After marrying and divorcing my husband, Casper Sloan, eight times in a row, I'm still the same woman who refuses to endure any flaws and mistakes Casper has made. As always, I'll demand a divorce over the smallest inconvenience ever. That is, until Lucille Bates, Casper's newly-widowed sister-in-law, moves into our home with her five-year-old son, Baxter Sloan. In fact, she's sitting in my usual spot while drinking the bone broth I've custom-ordered for myself. Rage overwhelms my senses instantly. I rush over and plan to knock Lucille's bowl over, only to see the live comments popping above Lucille's head out of the blue. "Lucille really is smart! She just has to pull a little trick, and the drama queen will start digging her own grave again!" "Ooh, Sabrina will demand a divorce for the ninth time! This time, Casper won't endure her shenanigans anymore. Once the divorce is done, he will never remarry her. Later on, Lucille will heal his wounded heart, and they will get together in the end." "Keep being unreasonable, Sabrina! Once you're divorced, you'll die tragically in a car crash! No one will even bother claiming your body in the morgue!" I shudder at the thought. When I notice Lucille smirking haughtily while reading the comments, I quickly retract my hand.