Darling Haley Novels & Stories

One year ago, Frank Luccasio, the heir to the future Don of Newborough's underworld, saved me when I attempted to commit suicide. He cleared my school debt, admitted my younger sister, Ariana Romano, into rehab, and hired the best doctors in the world to treat my mom's cancer. His only request? I had to become his mistress. I thought Frank was a gift from God—that he was a beam of light illuminating my dark world. When he got ambushed by assassins, I used my body to block the fragments caused by the explosion for him. As Frank scooped my blood-drenched form into his arms, he screamed hysterically, "Isabella!" But… my name was Selena… After I got admitted into the ICU, the real Isabella Messina returned to Frank's life. Knowing that I was just a replacement, I sensibly left Frank, only to be brought back by force. Since then, I became a plaything for the both of them. They humiliated and tormented me incessantly while flaunting their love for each other. Unable to take it anymore, I sent a text to a certain someone and attached a photo to it. "Don Luccasio, the one giving your son head in the photo happens to be your darling wife, Isabella Messina. Those who betray the family must never be forgiven." This time, I would be the one sending Frank and Isabella to hell.

My name is Haley Dixon. Ever since I was young, I knew I was different from other women. Other women have only one passage, but I have two—and both are extremely narrow. I'd heard that my mother was originally pregnant with twins, but a genetic mutation during the pregnancy caused my twin sister to die in the womb. I absorbed the part of her body that became my second passage, along with all of her estrogen. That was why I had a stronger desire than other women. As a teenager, I could use my little toys for up to four hours and still want more. For a while, I was almost proud of myself. I thought a rare treasure like me would be cherished and fiercely loved by any boyfriend. But after five consecutive boyfriends—every single one of them—bolted at the final moment, terrified by what they saw in my pants, calling me a monster and worrying I'd suck them in, I finally realized: maybe this wasn't being "different." Maybe this was a disease. But going to the hospital didn't help. Instead, they told me that my long-term use of foreign objects had led to an addiction disorder. I cried. Why did a monstrous woman like me have to suffer from this? Still, I didn't have time to wallow in misery, because the addiction tormented me day and night, stealing my peace and my sleep. So I went online and bought the largest set of toys I could find. Within just half a month, I'd broken them all—and my mild addiction had become severe. The toys were useless. It seemed I needed a man. But I no longer dreamed of finding a boyfriend. As long as someone could give me relief, any man would do. I signed up for a hookup app and chose the username: Double-Hole Slut.

My blood-bonded mate lied to me. He said our bond—a bond of centuries—was fading. It was all for his new lover, Josie. He wanted to let her play princess. He denied me my rightful place. I was walking down a hall lined with ancient tapestries when I heard Josie’s voice, sweet and laced with venom. “Darling, if you make me your princess, just for a little while, can you taste me every night? But… won’t that old relic Lydia get suspicious? Your bond has lasted three centuries, after all.” “What can she do? She can’t leave this castle, and she needs my blood to survive.” Milton’s voice dripped with contempt. “That fool, Lydia. I told her the bond was fading, and she actually believed our connection was broken. Even if she knew the truth, she’d just hand over the Eternal Chalice without a fight and go back to being a quiet little Dreamweaver. You’re the only princess in my heart, my little wildcat.” I froze. And I let him believe his lie was safe. Then, a pain sharp enough to kill a mortal ripped through my soul. The bond shattered. I turned and melted into the shadows. Let them think their little play is flawless. They’ll soon find out what this “fool” is truly capable of.

"Darling, this ends when you are entirely mine once more. I have a thousand ways of chasing you down. Some of which you won't enjoy." Her sultry, alpha voice makes Abel's body to stiffen. "Fuck off!" Abel hisses in a firm voice. ******* Vanessa Sterling, the beautiful billionaire owner of starlight styles, a fashion brand known to all elite circles, dumps her beautiful husband, Abel Blackwood, for his brother, Cyrus, who is fast becoming a renowned designer. She cruelly tells Abel, "Face it, you're a nobody. Cyrus is a talented designer that can elevate my brand," before handing him divorce papers which he grudgingly signs in shame before disappearing. Three years later, Abel Blackwood resurfaces as the most sought after male model. With his breathtaking, chiseled features and muscular physique, he has become the muse of top designers. Every major fashion house is clamoring to book him for their runway shows. Vanessa is stunned when she sees her ex-husband's beautiful face plastered across billboards and magazine covers. He is no longer the unknown man she once discarded. Many excellent women are chasing after him, including her friends and business rivals. But there isn't a woman on earth that can rival Vannesa's wits or determination Abel Blackwood will become hers again . . . or else...

My husband, Michael Grant's mistress, Lucy Lovelace, is demanding a break-up with him once again. Heartbroken, he drowns his sorrows with alcohol to the point that he has to get hospitalized due to stomach bleeding. Still, Michael keeps mumbling, "She's the only one who has the guts to treat me like this." Then, he grabs my hand and says, "Darling, you're a woman too. Tell me, how should I appease Lucy this time?" Well, Michael has cheated on me so many times. Lucy is the only one he's ever fallen for so far. My phone buzzes at that moment. It's a text from Lucy. "Mrs. Grant, please keep your husband in check! Don't you have any pride as a woman? Tell him to stop bothering me already!" I just smile mockingly. As always, I don't bother responding to Lucy. On the fifth day of Michael's hospitalization, he spams my phone with countless calls. When the latest call goes through, he questions me emotionally, "I'm hospitalized, you know! Why haven't you shown up at all? Do you even care about me as your husband?" I reply calmly, "I'm worried that if I do show up, you'll fall in love with me again."

As the son of Harbor City's casino magnate, I willingly handed control of the World Cup book to my stepsister, Sophie Bell. It was only because, in my last life, Sophie, who had never watched soccer seriously, suddenly turned into the family's lucky charm and called sixteen World Cup matches in a row. Every single night I stayed up breaking down each team's tactics and studying the players' habits and tricks. Yet Sophie could always predict the exact score, a step ahead, saying out loud the very answer in my mind. "Admit it, Adrian. I'm just stronger than you! Everyone, listen to me and go all in!" After that, the whole internet worshiped her as a goddess and praised her as a natural-born betting queen. Everyone mocked me as nothing but a fraud who'd never deserved his name. I was driven out of the family, and in a daze, someone shoved me off a high-rise. Only in that moment did I finally learn the truth: my stepsister could eavesdrop on my thoughts in real time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the World Cup began. This time, I didn't watch the matches. Instead, I looped through my head: "Darling, hold my hands. Nothing beats a jet 2 holiday, right now you can..."

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

My mother-in-law, Claire Rogers, had taken a turn for the worse with her leukemia and slipped into a coma. The doctors said she needed a bone marrow transplant urgently. I called my husband, Martin Hughes, the hospital director who had access to the bone marrow registry. All he had to do was sign off on the match, and she would be saved. Martin answered right away and drove straight to the hospital without a second thought. However, halfway there, he got a mysterious call and vanished without a trace. I watched Claire Roger's heart monitor grow weaker and weaker, frantically dialing Martin's number 99 times. On the 100th call, he finally picked up. My voice was shaking, panic bleeding through every word. "Martin, Mom needs the bone marrow transplant. You're the only one who can authorize the match. Please, come back!" All I heard was his quiet breathing on the other end. Before he could say anything, Waverly Tucker's voice cut through the silence."Darling, thank you so much for doing my bone marrow transplant surgery! How about I repay you with my body?" My phone slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor. So, that was where he had been all this time, performing surgery on Waverly. While I desperately needed him, he had abandoned his family to be with another woman.

“You,” Hades snarled, his eyes burning into Claudine’s, “are a viper in my bed. A ticking time bomb.” Claudine’s lips curved into a chillingly beautiful smile. “Darling, in your bed, I’m whatever you desire.” ~~~~ This isn’t your typical enemies-to-lovers romance. This is the story of the infamous daughter of the worlds greatest russian Kalashnikov Omerta,a woman driven by vengeance, who wanted the downfall of Hades Vancouver, the dangerous American mafia leader. Death was too merciful a punishment for the man who murdered her parents. But in a twist of fate, she’s caught in his grip and forced into marriage with him—the very man she swore to destroy. To Hades, she’s not simply his wife. She’s a snake he’s obsessed with, a woman he wants to bend to his will and claim in every way imaginable. Her true identity is hidden from him, but he’s been obsessed since the first night he fingered her into a screaming, squirt-filled orgasm that felt like a soul-shifting experience. The same night she stole from him. Now, trapped in a deadly game of forced proximity, where desire is both a weapon and a weakness, one wrong move could ignite a war that consumes them all. But when Hades discovers the tracker in her old gunshot wound, a relic of a past encounter, the game changes. Read on to find out if things were falling out of place for these characters, or perhaps things were falling into the right places.