Echo Burning Summary Novels & Stories

After I found out my Alpha mate, Bruce, couldn't let go of his ex-mate, Fiona, and her pup, I started teaching our son to call him "Alpha Bruce." When our son had a fever, Fiona called my mate away in the middle of the night. I touched my son’s burning forehead and had him say, "Goodbye, Alpha." When he bailed on the birthday party he’d promised our son because Fiona called, crying that her own son didn't have a father, I didn't even look up. I just had our son explain to the guests, "The Alpha has something important to do." Our son always hesitated for a long time. Until Bruce finally realized how much he’d failed us. He suggested we take a family portrait. But at the studio, Fiona called again, sobbing. “Bruce, can you please come and pretend to be Tony’s dad? The kids at daycare are making fun of him for not having one…” A flicker of guilt crossed Bruce’s face. He was about to kneel and explain it to our son. But this time, our son didn't need my cue. He just waved. “It’s okay, Alpha Bruce. Go be with your other pup. Mom and I are enough for the family photo.”

The New Year was just around the corner. While I was doing a thorough cleaning, I stumbled upon something beneath the couch. It was a damp, used condom, and it still had a faint lipstick stain on the edge. One thing I was sure of was that I didn't use this brand, but the lipstick color? It matched perfectly with my girlfriend Lindsey Stirling's.

fter catching my husband, Dante, in bed with his assistant, Angelina, again, I did something stupid. I leaked the video. I wanted the whole world to see them for what they were. But all I got was a lawsuit from the family and a six-month jail sentence. And an essay from my son titled, “My Mother Is Crazy.” That’s when I finally broke. I filed for divorce and gave up custody of our son. The day I left, Dante sneered at me. "Where you gonna go without me, Isabella? It's not too late to come crawling back." What he didn't know was that my mother runs the Wright family—the biggest outfit in Italy. And I'm her only heir.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

I am Alpha Dominic’s fated mate. I saved him when he was at his lowest. He didn't care that I was just an ordinary Omega. Countless times, as we mated, he’d kiss me like he was starving for me, whispering that I was a gift from the Moon Goddess herself. But that was before his ex—the high-born she-wolf, Chloe—came back. He started letting his pack walk all over me. And when my grandmother was framed for poisoning Chloe, he had her thrown in the dungeon cells without a second thought. I begged him, but Dominic just shot me a cold, warning look. "Evelyn, our mating ceremony is a week away. Don't let this scandal ruin it." He didn't know. That night, my grandmother died in those cells. And I made a decision. I refuse to be his Luna.

At the Nightwood Clan's feast celebrating our victory over the hunters, I was accused by Julia—a fledgling freshly turned from a blood servant. The charge? Stealing fifteen crates of mana crystals and hundreds of vials of the finest rare bloods. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. "Are we going to let a selfish thief like her continue to control this clan's lifeblood? I propose she be thrown into the Silverwater dungeons immediately!" I looked to Joseph, the Earl of Nightwood, the man I had loved for a hundred years. He knew damn well all of it—the blood, the crystals—was mine. My gift to the clan. I needed those crystals to heal the wounds I took in the fighting, and the rare blood was the only way we could call on our allies. But the man who'd been tangled in my sheets just last night now stared at me coldly. "Julia has records of you stealing clan resources. What do you have to say for yourself?" A smirk touched my lips. "I have nothing to say." So, they thought I was some fool they could just push around. They had no idea I was a descendant of the most powerful Vampire Prince of all, Valerius. If they wanted to play games with me, they’d better be prepared for my revenge.

The night I came of age, the vampire prince Damon couldn’t wait to drag me to his bed. He took me with a desperate, wild hunger that lasted all night long. My body ached, but my heart was full. I’d been his blood servant for ten years. I thought he was finally ready to give me the Embrace, to make me his forever. But after, as he held me and talked on the phone with my foster brother, I heard Marcus ask him in Latin, “So, Master, how did my little sister taste? You know how many men would kill to be in your place? They all think she's a goddess.” Damon's lips curled. “Not bad. A little green. Not nearly wild enough for my tastes.” Marcus laughed. “Well, she's been hopelessly devoted to you since she was a kid. Never even dated.” Then Damon’s voice lowered. “Don't tell Serena about Elena. I have to marry a noble vampire like her in the end, and I don't want her upset.” “A little human like Elena… she's just good for practice.” But Damon didn't know I'd secretly learned Latin just to feel worthy of him. Hearing that, I didn't say a word. I just quietly changed my college application from the University of New Orleans to my dream school, University of Oxford.

When we were eight, Kaelen burned down an entire pack territory just to save me. He swore an oath before the Moon Goddess to be with me forever, to never leave my side. Not even his own father could keep us apart. Then, a pregnant human girl reeking of his scent strutted into my office, a smug smirk on her face. "He says you're old and boring," she gloated. "That your scars turn his stomach." He seems to forget that he's the reason I have every last one of them. And I am not some weak woman he can just humiliate.