Dead End Memories

My mother was the villainess of a story. When I was born, the story came to its end. In the past, she was a rich heiress who drowned herself in luxury and pleasure. At present, everyone condemned her and spat in her path. After my father, the male lead of the story, betrayed her, her family went bankrupt. She knew nothing and had no skills, but for me, she was willing to learn from scratch.

Althea Johnson did not walk blindly into darkness. Before the contracts, the demands of blood and legacy — Dominic Valtieri had loved her. It was fierce, dangerous, and real enough to make her believe she could stand beside a man the world feared. Behind his ruthless reputation, she had seen a man capable of choosing her. For a while, he did. Until the weight of his name consumed him. By the time they marry, Dominic is no longer the man who once held her like something precious. He is colder, controlled by a dynasty that demands an heir and sees love as weakness. Still, Althea clings to the ghost of what they once were, hoping the man she loved is still buried somewhere inside him. On their wedding night, that hope dies. There is no tenderness—only possession. No love—only purpose. She is not a wife to him, but a necessity. When she discovers she’s pregnant, the truth becomes unbearable. Dominic did not choose her again. He chose what she could give him. An heir. A legacy. A continuation of a name built on power and fear. To him, she is no longer the woman he loved. She became a vessel. But grief hardens into something far more dangerous than heartbreak. Because Althea remembers who he used to be — and that memory burns. If legacy has consumed Dominic Valtieri, then she will become the one thing his empire never accounted for: defiance. She will not allow her child to be raised as a pawn in a dynasty built on fear. She will not let love be twisted into ownership. And if she must burn his empire to the ground to set her child free— She will.

A high-profile rape case rocks Corvessa City. During the autopsy, I examine the deceased's private area as part of the standard procedure. My wife, a police captain, blows up in front of the onlookers. "Don't we have a female medical examiner in our unit? Do you realize you're re-victimizing the deceased? And your wife is standing right here. Are you really that desperate?" The crowd turns on me in a heartbeat. Bowing to public pressure, the department suspends me and tells me to keep reporting in at my own expense. I hand in my resignation on the spot. Without me, nobody in Corvessa City is going to crack this case.

The hotel called, politely reminding me that the condoms used last night were unpaid and had been charged to my membership card. I was stunned. I'd been working late until midnight and hadn't set foot in any hotel. I confronted my husband, the only person who knew my card code. Nathan Phelps looked at me, bewildered. "Honey, that hotel costs over $10,000 a night. I'd never go there. It's probably a system error. Someone must have mistyped the card number. I'll file a complaint tomorrow." Unconvinced, I called my best friend, who managed the hotel. "Tracy, check who Nathan was with at the hotel last night. I'm catching him red-handed."

I can understand Wolfish, but I've never told my Alpha mate, Felix Grayback, about it. In public, he's the mate who dotes on me the most. He even declines a pack trading contract that's worth billions of dollars just to celebrate my birthday with me. As Felix holds me in his arms, he declares in front of his pack, "Bankruptcy is nothing as long as you're happy." I'm so touched that I'm about to burst into tears. So, I embrace Felix's huge, wolf-like body tightly in return. At that moment, I hear him emitting a low growl from his throat. It's a language that only wolves can understand. "This woman is finally plump enough to eat. Tonight, I shall share her flesh with my pack members."

Two best friends have their life upside down after a drastic event took place in one's life. They sure separated, but she loved him. Love. It was more than just a best-friend feeling. Things changed, people changed, everything changed. But her love was still the same. Can she ever gather the courage to tell him? Will he ever accept her?

The apartment that I bought four years ago isn't renovated or lived in at all. Yet, I suddenly receive messages on unpaid water and electricity bills. Puzzled by the sudden barrage of messages, I return to that particular apartment to check things out. That's when I realize that a stranger has been living in my apartment this whole time!

A Royal Affair, A Royal Betrayal, A Royal Revenge Lyrielle lost everything after she was accused of cheating and murder. She was rejected by her husband, and her family was sentenced and brutally murdered by the royal family of Mecianda. They sentenced her to burn alive too, but Arineth, the bastard prince of Mecianda and the fated mate she had rejected, saved her life—not out of love, but revenge against his own family who had betrayed him and exiled him. Together they swore to destroy Mecianda, not as Lyrielle and Arineth, but as the king and queen of Katula Kingdom.

From a campus romance to marriage, Dominic Fleming had always believed he led a perfect life. His wife, Isabella Sinclair, was dazzlingly beautiful. Their daughter, Lilith, was sweet and obedient. Dominic sometimes told himself he must have been a saint in a past life to deserve such happiness. Everything began to change the moment Isabella's so-called "sworn brother," Alexander Grant, entered their lives. Alex's name appeared more and more often, and it crept into every corner of their marriage. For Lilith's sake, Dominic endured the strain again and again until the day of the accident. As he lay on the operating table with his life hanging by a thread, Isabella was not at his side—she was with Alexander instead. That was the moment Dominic's heart finally turned cold. So why did Isabella regret it? She knelt with Alexander, who likewise barely clung to life, and wept as she begged Dominic for forgiveness. "Dom, I know I was wrong. Let's get married again. I will make him kneel and beg you for forgiveness," Isabella said. "Scram," Dominic replied. Isabella nodded eagerly. "Fine. I will throw him out right now!" "Get the fuck out too!" Dominic barked.

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.