Devil Son Novels & Stories

She was always the shadow. He was always chasing the light. Lavinia Hartwell had learned early that love was rarely for girls like her. She was the quiet one, the overlooked one—always second to her luminous best friend, Verity Langford. Even Henry Wynthorne, the boy whose compassion had unexpectedly caught her heart in high school, only had eyes for Verity. But years change people. Henry’s dreams of studying abroad collapsed with his father’s death. Verity left. Success became his only compass, and alcohol his only escape. And somehow, in the wreckage, there was Lavinia—never demanding, never judging, quietly holding him together in ways he never noticed… until she was gone. When an arranged engagement threatened to give her to him, Henry assumed she was being forced into it and set her free. Lavinia smiled, thanked him—and walked away, taking with her the steady presence he had taken for granted. Only then did Henry begin to notice the ache. The way her absence unsettled him. The way another man’s hand on her waist ignited a heat that was not anger, but something darker, sharper, and dangerously possessive. A single night blurred the lines forever—her lips on his, soft at first, then desperate, as though she’d loved him all her life. Desire flared, undeniable. But in the morning, she was gone again. Now, with Verity back and the past colliding with the present, Henry must face the truth: he no longer loves the woman he once chased. But has he realized too late who truly held his heart all along? Slow-burn, sensual, and laced with aching restraint, this is a story of unspoken devotion, of a man’s reluctant fall, and of the quiet girl who was never anyone’s first choice—until she became the only choice.

In my previous life, my sister thought that since my husband and I had high-paying jobs, she could swap her son with my child without anyone noticing. But twenty-five years later, the tables turned. My son had grown into a street thug, while her son—raised under my care—rose smoothly through life. Young as he was, he had already become a CEO. He was dutiful, bought me a villa, and even sent me traveling around the world. My sister barged into his company, waving a DNA test report, kicking up a scene, only to be thrown out by security. "Mr. Kieran said that even if you are his biological mother, you never gave him a single day of care," they told her. "So he refuses to acknowledge you." Breaking down completely, she drove her car into me and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the very day she switched our babies. This time, my sister clutched her own child tightly, a wild, triumphant grin on her face. "From now on, you can be the mother of a street thug," she sneered. "The villa and all those riches—they're mine!"

They call me “The Devil.” Deranged and violent. Gorgeous but frightening. I’m a businessman, so when one of my debtors offers me his fiancé in exchange for a debt settled, I figure why not? The woman will be a quick sell. Repayment comes in the form of a beautiful but haunted young woman. The light in her tempts the darkness inside of me. Teases it, tortures it. I want to hurt her. I want to break her. I want to keep her. Luckily for Celia, she fails to see that there is no goodness in me. And when she attempts to draw me in with her innocence and sweet, naïve heart, I thrive to show her the cruel monster I am. This is a dark mafia romance that contains non-con/dub con, graphic violence, and sexual themes. It is not a standalone novel and ends on a cliffhanger.

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

Paige got pregnant by a bad boy in high school. Two years later, after many sacrifices and without having any contact other than phone calls, she and the father of her child reunite. Can they live together for the sake of their shared child? Can the bad boy not be so bad?

On the day I left for a business trip, my son, Billy Smith, livestreamed his suicide attempt from our home. While I took my time shopping at the mall, my younger sister, Lori Chaney, and my husband, Greg Smith, were beside themselves with panic. By the time I got the call from Lori, I dropped everything at work and rushed home. However, I reached home to see Billy sobbing into the camera. “Mom, whenever Dad isn’t home, you bring Mr. Scott into the house. After that, you’d force me to keep it a secret. When I refused to play along, you abused me in every way you could! I also found the medical report in your nightstand. You have AIDS, but you never told Dad. I’m ashamed to have a disgusting woman like you as my mother!” Billy then jumped from the building and landed on the rescue airbag without a scratch. I, however, became the target of public outrage. I tried to clear my name, but no one believed me. After all, who would risk his own life just to frame his mother? Greg even brought me a glass of poisoned milk and forced me to drink it. He then told everyone that I had committed suicide out of shame. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been sent back in time to the day Billy threatened to kill himself.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

It was the night of my husband's and my third anniversary, and I had gotten home early. I caught him in bed with another woman—for the tenth time. But unlike the previous times, I did not throw a tantrum. I even closed the door to the master bedroom quietly, not wanting to interrupt. In Scott Jameson's eyes, I had no choice but to tolerate his cheating because I became Mrs. Jameson by getting pregnant with his child. Three months later, he flung divorce papers at me. "My young lover wants me to give her a home and to bear my son. Sign the papers." I looked into his cold, distant eyes and said with conviction, "All right. All I want is custody of our son. I don't want a cent of the Jamesons' money." The court proceedings were difficult, and I was accused of being mentally unstable. Many people made fun of me for not knowing my place. All of Cloverton was waiting for me to humiliate myself, counting the seconds until a nobody like me succumbed to desperation. However, I fought the case with everything I had. Eventually, I was finally able to leave with my son. No one knew that Scott suffered from a serious case of asthenozoospermia. His sperm were completely useless. No other woman could have Scott's baby except me, as I happened to be unusually fertile. My son would be the only heir to the Jameson family legacy.

She walked in on her fiancé buried deep inside her best friend the night before their wedding. Nadia Reeves did not cry. She did not scream. She walked straight into a Vegas bar and ordered enough whiskey to burn the world down. That was when the Devil found her. Dominic Marcello was cold, ruthless, and impossibly beautiful. He offered her a deal wrapped in black ink and diamonds: marry him, become his in every way, and watch him destroy the two people who shattered her. In return, he would give her the revenge she craved and the power she never knew she needed. She said yes. What began as a drunken contract in a neon chapel quickly became something far more dangerous. Dominic's touch awakened sensations he had never felt in his life and something feral in her. He claimed her body with ice and dominance. She claimed his soul without trying. Their nights were raw, possessive, and intimate. Their days became an intoxicating game of power, public revenge, and deepening obsession. But every perfect touch and whispered "little dove" was built on one buried secret. Dominic had not simply taken advantage of her pain. He had orchestrated the entire betrayal. When Nadia discovers the blood money he paid her best friend to seduce her fiancé, proof that her entire marriage was part of his cold calculation from the beginning, her world implodes. Now the man who taught her how to burn is the one holding the match to their future. Can a love forged in manipulation, obsession, and breathtaking passion survive the ultimate betrayal? Or will the devil who woke her up be the one who finally breaks her? A dark, addictive billionaire romance packed with scorching dominance, heart-wrenching emotion, a jaw-dropping midpoint twist, and an earned, swoon-worthy HEA.