Eternity Collar Novels & Stories

I used to be the beloved little princess of the Colobo family. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, my father brought home Sophia. She was the daughter of the old friend who had once saved his life. Out of guilt, he gave her a place in our home. Then he gave her my place too. My brother began protecting her and hating me. My childhood friend, Luca Rizzo, fell for her and left me behind. Even my father said Sophia deserved the Colobo name more than I did, though I was his biological daughter. On the day I graduated from college, they broke their promise to me for the ninety-ninth time because of her. I finally lost control. “Am I not your own daughter?” My father pulled Sophia behind him as if I were the danger, then slapped me across the face. “You jealous little thing. I should have given everything to her instead.” My brother looked at me like I was something dirty. “You don’t deserve a place in the Colobo family. Get out.” So I left. They thought I was only throwing another tantrum. They took Sophia to Switzerland to see the snow-covered mountains, certain that silence would teach me to behave. They thought I would calm down, come home, and beg for my place again. But this time, I called the research institute in Australia whose offer I had once turned down for them. “I accept,” I said. By the time the Colobo family realized I was truly gone, my phone number no longer existed. And so did Isabella Colobo.

At the Costa family's annual capo banquet, Marco Costa declared the family would extend protection to one woman only: Rosa Frost, his childhood sweetheart, newly divorced and newly returned to the family fold. One by one, the other women slipped away into the night with their money, their dignity, and fresh protectors already lined up. I, Viola Rossi, once his Donna, was severed from the Costa family entirely, with nowhere left to go. Twenty-one years prior, The System ripped me into this life with a brutal mandate: make one of four made men fall irrevocably in love with me, and I'd earn my way back to my real life with a healthy body. I failed. Every single one of them chose Rosa. The system's final mercy: die here, go home. I stood in a rotting Brooklyn dock warehouse, gun in hand, and closed my eyes. Right as darkness closed in, a raw, raging scream of my name tore through the silence, like the man shouting would burn the whole world apart to reach me.

Ethan West and I were together for seven years. Because of one promise, I gave up the thrill of being a gold-medal race car driver to become a housewife, tied to the mundane rhythm of pots and pans. Yet, Ethan never changed. His gentle care and thoughtfulness remained constant over the years, and I believed he loved me. Until the day I saw him, madly holding another woman, kissing her as if the world would end. It was then I learned the truth: I was Ethan's wife, but Tara was the unattainable princess he had always longed for.

The seventh time Dante Moretti served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son in a cheap diner on Chicago's South Side. I forced a smile and brushed my hand over my son's hair. "Just wait a little longer, sweetheart. This time, Mommy will get custody of you." He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Mommy, how much do you need to sell me for before you're happy?” Before I could answer, he pulled a handwritten divorce agreement from his backpack and pushed it toward me. "I know you keep fighting Dad for me because you want more money from him." "I wrote the agreement for him. Please sign it. Dad is already tired. Stop making his life so hard." His handwriting was crooked, but every word had been written with care. Dante would give me three million dollars. At the bottom, in my son's childish scrawl, was one more line. [After you take the money, don't bother me, Dad, and Serena anymore. Let us be happy.] Serena was Dante's childhood sweetheart. The woman he trusted more than his own wife. For five years, I had stood against Dante's family, his lawyers, and half the Chicago underworld just to keep custody of my son. For him, I would've walked away with nothing. But the child I had raised for eight years had already chosen another mother. So why shouldn't I give their perfect little family exactly what they wanted?

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?" "I'm getting divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?" "He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know." "I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?" "The hospital. Prenatal checkup." ... The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation. It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me. Elena, Donna of the Moretti family. Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation. Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive. But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest. By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him, I was already in New Zealand. The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti. He was the last person on earth to find out.

After graduation, I spent a year apprenticing under my mentor in the neutral lands, where there were no packs, no laws, and no one to protect me. My sister, Evelina Duskbane, the Lycan Chairwoman, nearly lost her mind over it. She was terrified I would fall for some Rogue and recklessly form a mate bond. So before I could decide anything for myself, she approved an arranged match for me. Seris Thornhart, the only daughter of Alpha Alaric Thornhart of Frostfang, the strongest pack in Northmere. Beautiful, dangerous, and legendary. Then Evelina ordered me home for the mating ceremony, leaving me no choice but to visit the finest ceremonial motor house in the city and select a wedding car worthy of the occasion. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes went straight to a silver wedding car with a black crest worked into the bodywork. Just as I reached for the reservation tag beside it, a lazy male voice cut in. "I like the one he's chosen. I'll take it. Hand it over." Before I could react, the clerk snatched the tag from my hand, nearly scraping my skin. I straightened and forced myself to stay calm. "Ever heard of first come, first served? I saw it first. Is this how you do business here?" The male wolf turned to me with a mocking look. "That car costs three hundred thousand dollars. You sure you can afford it, peasant? I grew up with Lady Seris Thornhart. Around here, I make the rules." I stared at him, almost amused. What a coincidence. Seris Thornhart just happened to be the woman chosen for me. I pulled out my phone and called her. "Seris, your precious childhood friend just took the wedding car for our mating procession. What do you think I should do about that?"

In my last life, my sister Serena Vega ran to Monaco the night before her wedding, and my family shoved me into her dress before dawn. Damian Lucchese, the young Godfather of New York, had been waiting at the altar for her. The moment he lifted my veil and saw me instead, the warmth in his eyes went cold. For five years, I was his hidden wife. The underworld knew he was married, but no one knew to whom. My parents blamed me for stealing Serena’s place and still failing to keep his heart. Then Serena came home. That Christmas, Damian took her and my parents to his mountain estate. When a blizzard hit, his men rushed everyone onto the helicopter. No one remembered me. I died in that frozen house, three months pregnant with Damian’s child. When I opened my eyes again, Serena had just returned to New York. This time, I would not beg for love. Only when I truly walked away, none of them had the right to regret it.

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

My sister and I married into the Phoenix Clan at the same time and, coincidentally, gave birth at the same time. After my sister birthed a purebred golden phoenix, the eldest prince she married was immediately crowned the next leader of the Phoenix Clan. Meanwhile, I gave birth to a mixed-bred pheasant and was condemned to death along with my husband, who was the second prince. It was only after my death that I found out the pheasant was my sister’s child! It was a ploy concocted by her and the eldest prince. The goal was to hide the bastard bloodline of the eldest prince and steal the throne of the Phoenix Clan. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been reborn. I didn't give birth, and my sister was visiting me with a haul of supplements…