Drita D Avanzo Novels & Stories

My wife, Ariel Sweeney, would always buy me a new watch every time she cheated on me. We'd been married for four years, and I'd already collected 99 watches. That also meant I'd forgiven her 99 times too. This time, she went on a business trip for three days, and returned with a Patek Philippe watch worth ten million dollars for me. I then knew that it was time we got a divorce.

I decided to choose a new husband after being reborn. I looked at Asher Vance, the boyfriend I'd devoted five years to, and I turned away without a second glance. Instead, I let my soft form lean into the solid, reassuring strength of his uncle, Alexander Vance. In my past life, I'd ignored the powerful CEO who wanted to marry me and insisted on loving the wild, free-spirited Asher. It wasn't until a sudden miscarriage ripped through me that I uncovered the truth—he'd been lacing the tonic he fed me every single day, without fail, with abortifacients. And his reason? He believed I wasn't as refined, as pure, as my sister Celeste Lockwood, and didn't deserve to carry his heir. Memories of our tangled moments in bed rushed back, how he'd so often whispered Celeste's name against my skin. Only then did I piece it together: every loss I'd suffered had just been a sick, flirtatious game between the two of them, a cruel inside joke at my expense. Fine. If that's how they wanted to play, in this new life, I'd just marry someone else. But on my wedding day, the ever-arrogant Asher collapsed in tears right at the ceremony.

”Mr. President, your wife sent over the divorce papers.” ”How much alimony is she asking for?” ”Actually, she’s offering to pay ‘you’ alimony.” Two years ago, he’d thought her the perfect wife: sweet, submissive, the kind of woman who’d make a lovely accessory to his life. She’d thought him the ideal husband: a handsome, workaholic billionaire who’d leave her alone. She married him, but after divorce, it came out to be a marriage of convenience. No strings attached. Just a secret deal. But now, after the divorce…. “Mr. President, the mastermind behind our competition is… your ex-wife.” “Mr. President, the person who saved you earlier—pretty sure it was her.” “Mr. President…” “I want to know everything about my wife’s secret life, NOW!” “Sir… we found nothing. She’s completely off the radar,”

Late one night, a thread blew up and hit the front page of a famous forum deep in New York’s underworld. The original poster had dug up an old prompt: “Name three words that sum up your youth.” Then an account that’d been dormant for years popped up in the replies. Its avatar was a backlit silhouette of a girl in a white dress, username: Seraphina. That was Seraphina Rossi. The Rossi family heiress, the undisputed it girl of New York’s underworld. She typed: Vibrant. Passionate. And Rico Valentino. All hell broke loose in the thread. The wild Valentino’s heir and the breathtaking Rossi heiress had once loved each other hard, only for it all to end in bitter regret. Nearly everyone in New York’s underworld had watched that heartbreak play out. Including me. I turned my head, staring at the man sleeping beside me. This was the man next to me: the once reckless kid who’d ruled the streets of Queens with his bare fists, now the Don of the Valention family. Poised. Unshakable. And he didn’t love me. I’d always known Rico still kept in touch with Seraphina. That he’d met her in secret, more than once. That’s why he’d refused to make our marriage public. His excuse was always the same: “Keeping your identity off the grid keeps our enemies from targeting you.” But I knew I was the one standing between Rico and the woman he’d never stopped loving. If all three of us were just going to keep hurting like this? I’d rather walk away. Let them have each other. I’d made up my mind. I was divorcing Rico.

For three months, I’d been seeing a guy named “Rex.” A total stranger I’d only met online. We were in the thick of it, that honeymoon phase where every night my phone would blow up with messages that made my pulse jump. “Miss you, sweetheart.” “Dreamt of you again last night. You were all over me, begging for it.” I was about to suggest we finally meet. But then he sent me a picture, a casual shot of his desk, and I saw something familiar: the crest of the Falcone crime family. And I work for a company owned by the Falcones. For three months, I’d been sexting a dangerous man, a made man in the mafia, who could be right under my nose. And just when I was trying to figure out who he was, I saw them. The custom black onyx cufflinks I’d picked out for “Rex”… on my boss, Marco’s, wrists.

When the illegitimate daughter, Sophia Gracia, married Alexei Dè Sokolov, a so-called old pervert by some, she thought her life was over.  She had no idea it was the beginning of a new chapter in her life. Alexei Dè Sokolov, a billonaire who was dubbed as a "old pervert" because he never appeared in public and for some nasty rumors. He'd had his eye on Sophia since high school.  So when she received an offer from the Gracia family, he couldn't refuse it. Alexei had no idea that taking this risk would save Sophia and give her a reason to start a new life.

I'd been lonely lately. Having accrued enough wealth to no longer need to go on the raids I was well off. Now I just needed a little slave girl to warm my bed. I'd considered a docile thing with a warm spot for me. But instead, I was intrigued by the spitfire commanding she'd not be touched. I saw her body and thought her too tiny but when I touched her, I wanted her. And what I want. I get. Afterall, I'm a wolf at heart. And a full moon is coming. She'll learn the way of things. One way or another.

Before Christmas Eve, all of Nowevik was betting. Not on money. On me. Would I finally pull the winning lot? Would Leon Fabian finally take me to his family estate for Christmas? The Fabians had a rule. A new bride had to attend the Christmas Eve dinner with the whole family before she counted as one of them. I'd been married five years. Five years. The lot never landed on me. I'd become Nowevik's favorite joke. This year, the winning ticket went to a nightclub hostess. She lounged on Leon's lap and flicked it onto the table in front of me, smiling like she'd already won. The room went silent. Everyone waited— for me to lunge at her like I had the last four years. Claws out. A scene. But I didn't move. "Congratulations." Leon leaned in, breath warm at my ear, smiling like he'd just proved something. "Wynne, you're finally learning how to behave. Keep this up and you might actually become a proper lady of my house." I lowered my eyes and tore the ticket in half. My face stayed blank. Leon had no idea the five-year deal between my brother and me was already over. Soon, he'd come take me home.

My wife was eight months pregnant when she indulged her first love for the ninety-eighth time and let him run our child down with his car. My lawyer wife had promised me she'd bring him to justice, but in court, she suddenly changed her statement. "Mr. Quinn has a serious history of mental illness. His family will discipline him verbally, but he shouldn't be held criminally responsible." After the hearing, she shielded Caleb Quinn as he sobbed in public, then leaned close to my ear and said softly, "I promised you I'd only indulge him one hundred times. Let's just use up one chance. I can't watch him go to prison, can I?" I looked at my wife's flat stomach and felt calmer than I'd ever felt before. Then I nodded. She'd relied on that bet for six years, certain she could do anything. She'd forgotten there was only one chance left.

Kane Porter was as boring as his name implied. Of all the financial coordinators under me, he was the one least likely to be interesting on an intoxicated evening. Kane was quiet, well-mannered and nobody was friends with him. I was his boss and I got along well with everyone until I came across a problem. The account I'd been skimming from had a good hunk of change missing now. Not good. How could I have it investigated without flagging myself for the ten thousand dollars I'd 'borrowed'? There was only one thing I could do. Porter was a nice guy. He'd help me out. No one could be safer to ask...