Drita D Avanzo Novels & Stories

The day Jasper Carter's terminally ill ex, Natalie Klutz, gave birth, his parents—Josephine and Raymond—hired ten bodyguards to keep me, his actual wife, out of the hospital. But I never showed. Josephine clutched Natalie's hand. "She's not getting near you or the baby." Jasper wiped Natalie's forehead. "Relax. Dad's got men at every door. If Emily shows, we'll toss her." Hours passed. Still no me. Jasper finally let himself breathe. He didn't get what my deal was. He was just granting Natalie's dying wish—to be a mom. The second the nurse handed over the crying baby, he smiled like everything was finally worth it. If I came tomorrow and said sorry, he'd forgive me. Hell, he'd even let me raise the kid. What he didn't know? I had just submitted my paperwork. I'd leave the country, join Doctors Without Borders, and ghost him for good.

I came to my father’s funeral in a white dress and a red rose, thinking the worst they’d do was spit on me again. They were celebrating. It wasn’t a funeral. It was Drelia’s coronation party with my father’s corpse in the background. I was ready to leave. Let them have their title, their cameras, their champagne. I’d go back to my law firm and pretend I never had Mende blood. Then the will changed. The family lawyer said two words that shattered everything: “You’re the heiress” Suddenly the bouncers who were dragging me out were bowing to me. Suddenly Drelia and Cade looked like they’d been gutted. Suddenly I had a title, a target on my back, and 30 days before the Council declared me Luna or declared me dead. The pack hates me. My family wants me gone. And the only way to keep my head is to play a game I never wanted to play: politics, blood, and maybe a marriage to the one man who has every reason to watch me burn.

At my own wedding, I find out the woman behind the veil isn't even the one I'm supposed to be marrying. Instead of getting mad, I give her the wedding of the century. It's all because of what happened in my past life. I'd exposed that she wasn't my bride in front of everyone and blew up the whole ceremony. That forced Jessie Clarke, who'd been at the hospital with her childhood sweetheart, Oliver Grant, to rush over reluctantly so we could still get married. Because of that, Oliver refused treatment and died on the operating table. When I heard he was gone, I told Jessie she should see him one last time, but she refused. All she said was, "Blame it on his bad luck." After we got married, we acted just as in love as before. I kept getting money from my family to save her company every time it was on the verge of collapse. But on the anniversary of Oliver's death, Jessie shoved me off the top floor of her company. I hit the ground hard enough to end up a broken, bloody mess. As I fell, I caught one last look at her face, streaked with tears. "If you hadn't forced me back to marry you, Oliver wouldn't have died! You get to keep me, but I lost him for good! Why do you get to live a happy life?" So that was it. She'd blamed me for Oliver's death from the start. She'd never loved me at all. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back at our wedding ceremony.

I got pregnant by Alessio Moretti—my brother's best friend, and the youngest, most handsome Don in New York. Then his old flame, Bianca, the one who ghosted him, came back. I thought he’d drop me for her. But he just smirked. "She left without a word. There's no going back." My brother, Gianni, was even colder. "She's not a Ricci anymore. My only sister is you." I believed them. For three years, they'd shown me a warmth and love I'd never known. Then a video of my drunk foster father beating me went viral. The world mocked the noble Ricci princess, once tortured like a beggar. I shattered. I ran to find the only two men I trusted. But I stopped cold at their study door, frozen by Bianca's sickly sweet voice. "Gianni, Alessio... leaking that video? Wasn't it too cruel? Marcella's pregnant." My brother's reply was instant. "That's the point. Pregnancy is supposed to soften her. But she's been running around like she owns the place, keeping you out." Alessio just laughed. "Don't worry about Marcella. She can't touch us. And she's too soft-hearted to ever hurt our child." Tears streamed down my face. A sharp pain shot through my heart. He's right. The baby is my treasure. I'd never hurt him. But Alessio... I won't let you control me. I walked away, numb. I booked a flight. I will slip through their fingers, take my baby, and disappear from their world forever.

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

"No one, okay!...No one has ever had me,not like you Calla" A pause; I endured badly as she stood on the other side of the door. "You have your whole life, you wanna throw that away and for what?... We'd be tired of all this one day and you'd realize it's not what you wanted and we'd hate each other." she replied, her voice cold and distant. "I'd never hate you!" "you don't know that now!... I'm not going to be between you and you family." Calla Grayson's life is turned upside down when her mother is diagnosed with lung cancer. Desperate for financial help, she's relieved when a French wine company calls her fashion brand for an interview for a lucrative contract. However, things become complicated when she meets James Renault, the company's heir, who is struggling with his own family demons. Their conflicting meet turns into a deal that helps her fashion brand secure the contract for a fashion and Wine show in Paris. As Calla and James navigate their feelings for each other, they must confront the dark secrets of their families' pasts. James's father is a ruthless and abusive man who will stop at nothing to maintain his power and wealth. Calla's Mum Passes leaving her helpless and alone. James also discovers his father secret of his murder of Calla's biological father, he is forced to choose between his loyalty to his family and his love for Calla. Ultimately, James and Calla find healing, forgiveness, and each other. They vow to spend their lives together and build a brighter future, free from the secrets and lies that haunted their families for so long.

At his Alpha succession ceremony, Damien seated his childhood sweetheart in the Luna's chair, then dropped a mate bond severance agreement in front of me. “Once the bond's dissolved, I'll give you money. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. One condition: stay away from Serena.” I signed without hesitation but I didn't take a cent. “Don't worry. I'll disappear from your lives for good.” That night I went home, took out the silver knife I'd already prepared, and dragged it across my wrist. Twenty-five years ago I'd crossed into this world of werewolves. For twenty-five years I'd worked to win over three protagonists, and every last attempt had failed. The Moon Goddess had told me: once this body died, I could go home, back to my parents. I lay on the cold floor and waited for the end. As my mind went hazy, I felt no fear, only a strange, giddy relief. And right as I was slipping away, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

Leon Santoro's ex-wife and their daughter pushed me down the stairs. I lost the baby. Leon came to see me in the hospital. He sat beside the bed, his expression as composed as always, and said, "She's a child. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I apologize for Rosalie." "That's it?" I asked. "Just an apology?" He turned to look at me. "What else do you want? Money? Stock?" "I can't exactly make Rosalie pay with her life for what happened to your child." Your child. Not our child. So he truly never cared about the baby I was carrying. He'd made a promise to his ex-wife Giselle: Rosalie would be his only child. When I told him I was pregnant, he'd barely reacted. Just a shrug and a flat "I know," like I'd told him the weather. Thinking about it now, I looked at him and asked quietly, "You're relieved, aren't you? Now that the baby's gone."

After eight years together, I took a hit for my surgeon boyfriend. Milton Woodard vowed I could ask for anything. Everyone assumed I'd seize the chance to propose, locking him down for good. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, "Let's break up." Then I walked away without a backward glance. Milton smirked, betting with his buddies that I'd come crawling back in under three days, calling me a desperate lapdog chasing his attention. He was dead wrong because I'd been reborn. In my last life, I proposed to him and won. Overwhelmed by the news, his first love threw herself off a rooftop and killed herself. Milton unleashed his grief-fueled rage on me. On our wedding night, he slashed my face and locked me in a dank, claustrophobic basement. When I got pregnant, he force-fed me supplements until the baby grew too big for me to deliver. I hemorrhaged, torn apart, and died in agony on the birthing table. Now, reborn on the day I saved his life, I was done playing his fool.

She’d escaped me once. She’d not do it again. I am the brother of the Alpha of the Asara Pack. I did everything she asked of me. She was a queen up on her throne. I was her Captain of the Guard. Her secret assassin killing anyone who'd threaten her. I had declared my intent to claim her as my mate. And she had fled. Like the coward she is. Still she went ahead and seduced me, bidding me do whatever vile thing she commanded. Now she claims to rule this kingdom. However, her people are starving and her new fiancé is to blame. But will she hear a word of it? Of course not! Well, I've found a way to make her listen. To no longer allow her to deny what she really is. To rip her from her sanctuary amongst the humans. It's high time she learn a she-wolf’s place in this realm. She needs a real king, and it won't be that sniveling lord with designs on her. It's going to be me. She’ll learn I'm no longer hers to command. She is mine.