Every Time

Everyone in New York knew I was the Godfather’s heart. Gavin Whitestone’s heart. He loved me for ten years. He’d fly into a rage if I so much as got a paper cut. But he’s the one who gave me these three scars. The first time, he pulled every doctor to treat Sofia, the girl who took a bullet for him, and ignored the shrapnel tearing into my side. The second time, he was drugged and fucking Sofia in his bed. When I walked in on them, he shoved me aside, desperately carrying her to the hospital. The third time, he took my father's last gift to me—a revolver—and gave it to a pregnant Sofia, just to make her smile. He told me, “It’s all for the baby. Once the baby is born, we’ll go back to how we were.” But this time, I didn't forgive him. I threw away every gift he ever gave me and vanished without a trace. And that’s when the untouchable Godfather finally broke.

You’re not supposed to want straight men. Carson Bitters wants nothing more than to feel his secretary inside him. He dreams of it every day. You’re not supposed to fall in love with them. They won’t love you back. But Carson can’t stop longing for Asher Hall; the man his homophobic father handpicked for him. A living, breathing, giant NO. And yet, every time Asher speaks, every glance, every careless brush of his hand, Carson finds himself wanting more. Needing more. And what starts as longing could destroy everything, or make it unforgettable.

When the bodies of his informats start turning up dead at every corner ; an assertive and confident journalist who is entangled with the mafia finds himself in a race against time - for his life.

Every time my husband cheated, he gave me a bracelet. I collected 99 bracelets in four years of marriage—I forgave him 99 times. He was away on a business trip for three days lately. When he came back, he brought home a rare bracelet worth Ten Million Dollars. That was when I knew it was time to ask for a divorce.

“You think you hate me now?” I said, brushing the blood from her mouth with my thumb. “Wait until you start craving me in the dark.” Kyra Ferguson. Daughter of the Alpha who stole everything from me. The female whose blood sings to mine. My prisoner. My mate. My Enemy. She was supposed to suffer then die. I brought her here to ruin her, strip her of pride, dignity, and control. And yet, every time she bares her teeth, I want to taste her defiance. Every time she resists, my body aches to conquer her. She’s fire wrapped in thorns, untamed even in chains. And I hate her for how badly I want her.

They executed me for a crime I never committed. They poisoned me, stole my future, and killed my unborn child. And the man who was behind it all was my husband. Death should have been the end. Instead, it was the beginning. Reborn five years in the past, I remember everything — every betrayal, every lie, every name that will one day kneel before me. Using secrets, seduction, and the future itself, I will climb higher than any Alpha ever dared. Because this time… I’m not surviving the game. I’m controlling it.

To Ronan, I was nothing but a weak, wolfling girl. So he did what cold-hearted Alphas do—he rejected me. Now I’m stronger. Wilder. Dangerous. And when he returns, burning with jealousy over the Alpha I let touch me… it’s too late. Or maybe, it’s just the beginning. Because the bond between us still burns. Every time he growls my name, my body betrays me. Every time he touches me, I forget why I should hate him. He says I’m his. But I’m not that girl anymore. I might let him ruin me again just to remind him what he threw away.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

I was getting married—but I didn't tell my parents. It was my fifth wedding. The last four? Total disasters, thanks to them. Every time, they claimed something was "wrong" with the wedding car and somehow scared the guy off. First was my college boyfriend. We were solid—four years strong. My parents pushed for marriage... then ditched the idea on the big day because his car wasn't "fancy" enough. Second groom? My boss. He pulled up in a shiny new car they actually approved—until they didn't. Yanked me right out. Third time, they set me up with someone themselves. The guy brought ten cars to play it safe. Didn't matter. They shut it down before I even stepped outside. Fourth time? Same story. I kept wondering—what was so cursed about these cars? Why push me to get married, only to destroy it every single time? This year, I was trying again. Wedding number five. This time, I was pregnant—with the son of the country's richest man. I didn't tell my parents. Thought I'd finally outsmarted them. But just as I was about to get in the car... I saw them sprinting toward me.

“Ms. Arnold, you really should sign this divorce agreement. Otherwise, I won’t be able to answer to Mr. Fisher.” Jeremy Fisher’s personal lawyer, Cole Stewart, stood in front of Hailey Arnold with an anxious expression. In his hands were a freshly printed divorce agreement, the pages still crisp. This was the thirty-third time Jeremy had asked to divorce her. The first time, Hailey climbed onto the rooftop and jumped. She survived but broke one of her legs. The second time, she slashed her wrist with a small knife, and blood flooded half the bathroom. The third time, she swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and spent three days in the hospital having her stomach pumped. … Every single time, she had used death to force Jeremy to compromise, but this time, she was tired of it.