Novelas y relatos de For Love Me

“Help me fake my death and arrange a completely new identity.” “Donna,” the man was clearly shocked. “Why? The Don dotes on you. The whole of Sicily knows—” “That’s none of your business,” I interrupted him. “I’m leaving in five days.” Walking out of the black market, the LED screen in the square was still showing footage of my lavish wedding with Don Alexander three years ago, a ceremony that cost over $500 million. Everyone thought Don Alexander loved me deeply, and I thought so too. Until this afternoon, on our third wedding anniversary, I returned to Sicily early, hiding in the lounge of my husband—Don Alexander’s—office, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I saw his secretary hiding under his desk. While the underboss Marco was reporting the losses from the dock smuggling operation, Isabella was kneeling between Alexander’s legs, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers. Her head bobbed up and down. After Marco left, Isabella smiled seductively. “Could your Donna serve you like this during a meeting?” Alexander’s voice was filled with desire. His hands kneaded her breasts. “Sophia is too conventional, too boring. You’re much more exciting in bed, you little slut.” I covered my mouth, completely devastated. But when I actually left, the Don, who had found me boring, was the one who completely broke down.

STORY IS CURRENTLY ON HOLD TO ENSURE BEST QUALITY OF CONTENT. “Forgive me Goddess for I have sinned.” “What have you done child?” “I’ve developed an insatiable need.” “What is that need?” “A need for pleasure and lust.” ____________________ Life as a nun always seemed to be the righteous path for Amelia Roseo, unaware, fate had other plans for her. Everything was supposed to change the day she turns 18, that she is yet to meet her true self. Thrown into a world of fleeing and chaos Amelia must adapt and overcome what life had to offer her. Can Amelia identify who her real well-wishers and enemies are before it’s too late? Will she be able to fight her demons to survive and live the battle she was thrown into? Read now to find out.

"Do you feel it coming alive?" he whispered. His hand holding mine on his bulge. "If anyone sees us—" I stuttered. We weren’t alone in the house. "If you agree to be my good little stepsister—they’ll treat you with respect too." His dark eyes held a wicked amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. "I know you had a crush on me." "I—I didn’t know you were my stepbrother," I tried to explain, but he silenced me with a finger to my lips. That touch! That gentle press of dominance. It was dangerous. It was temptation itself. "Then no one has to know our dirty little secret." His voice was a trap, laced with seduction. "Be my stepsister by day… and my whore by night." I had thought I was inching toward freedom. That escape was just within reach. But the noose had been tightening all along. And this time, it wasn’t fate or circumstance pulling it tight. It was the hands of my own stepbrothers. .. Lavender wanted a normal life—one where she was respected for who she was, not judged for being born from rape. But everything changed when she helped a wounded stranger– and unknowingly walked into the world of the mafia. She thought she could escape the ruthless mafia boss she saved—until she found herself in his mansion, introduced as his stepsister. When her mother made her meet her new family, Lavender’s world shattered. How could she tell her mother that her soon-to-be stepbrothers were mafia bosses, who saw her as nothing more than a pawn? Lavender is left with two choices: fight back or submit to her stepbrothers' control. But can she escape the grip of the mafia? But how can one ever escape the mafia?

I disappeared in the year Sebastian Ferraro loved me most. For thirteen years, he never got an explanation. And for thirteen years, I punished myself by never watching his games, never saying his name, and never thinking about the promise we made in that old hockey rink. Until I returned to this city and saw a faded poster outside the abandoned arena. Sebastian was only seventeen in the photo. He stood at the center of the ice, bright-eyed and fearless, with one sentence printed beneath him: Wait for me past the blue line. That was his promise to me. And I had missed it for thirteen years. Later, I collapsed inside his arena. When I woke up, the boy I had once failed was standing beside my hospital bed. Only he was no longer a boy. He was a professional hockey star. The heir to the Ferraro crime family. And a man whose fiancée was about to marry him. I wanted to tell him why I had left all those years ago. But he looked at me and said coldly, “The past is over. Don’t cause any misunderstandings.” That was when I finally understood. I no longer had the right to disturb his life. So I smiled, swallowed every truth I had kept buried, and booked a flight to New Zealand. I thought leaving was the last thing I could do for him. Until that plane disappeared from radar. The news spread through the whole city. Everyone said Sebastian Ferraro lost control at the airport. He went through the passenger list again and again, screaming my name like a man who had already lost everything.

After Edwin’s first love arrived, I left his home without telling anyone. The first week after I left, he didn't care at all. He spent the week doting on her first love, taking her to social gatherings, making people gossip about me being left. The second week after I left, his friends began placing bets on whether I would come back crawling or scheme against Rose and cry for attention. Edwin heard them making jokes about me, and he actually laughed, keeping Rose on his lap. The third week after I left, he tracked me down and barged into my door. “Stop all this drama, Victoria.” He spat, “Rose’s heart is delicate. Your heart is the right match for her. Donate your heart to her, and I’ll marry you.” But what he expected from me, a long confrontation or an ocean of tears, he didn't get at all. “Okay,” I replied, my voice as calm as the ocean. “When is the surgery’s date?” Edwin froze at his place. What he didn't know was that I was not the Victoria he remembered. I had been transported into his world after an accident, and only by fulfilling his hundred wishes could I finally return to my own. And, this was his hundredth wish!

Five years after my death, my husband, Lucas Grant, wanted me to take the blame for his lover in a drunk driving incident. He had barged into my house with forged evidence, but realized I was not inside. He had no other choice but to knock on my neighbor’s door. However, my neighbor told him, “Joan? She died a long time ago. “I heard that the family of that case was not happy with the verdict, so they abducted her the day she was released from prison. She was tortured for three days straight!” Lucas did not believe the neighbor. He was furious that I was creating a ridiculous lie just to escape. He yelled angrily at my neighbor. “Don’t think I’ll believe you! Joan must have paid you to lie to me! “Tell her that it’s no use hiding. If she doesn’t contact me in three days, I’ll no longer pay the alimony for that rascal!” However, he did not know that the person that his lover had killed in the drunk driving accident was the very rascal he was referring to.

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

I took my last breath when his hatred for had reached it's peak. I chose to take my own life, when I could no longer bear the wait of his hatred When my ashes was handed to Leo, my mate, he smiled and patted it. He was pleased I had finally died. “Filthy thing. She should’ve died a death more painful than this,” he said as he tipped the urn sending it crashing to the ground. He believed I had killed his first love. Despite all our years together, he was waiting for this moment to get his revenge. The air carried my ashes as he stepped over them and walked away. But not long after he returned in regret begging to have me returned to him.

The story starts when Queshia found out about her husband, Maverick's, affair with a lady named, Claire, who he met before he got deployed to an exotic island located at the east, which resulted to a child to get dismay. She then struggles fixing their relationship and trying to trust him again for the sake of their marriage, all while she hides the tryst with the other woman from both hers and Maverick’s families, where she also struggles conceiving a baby due to having PCOS. She then recalls where they both started, and all the red flags she should have noticed before marrying Maverick.

When I opened my eyes again, I was pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window of the skyscraper by my stepbrother, Rocco. The man I had been infatuated with for a decade. He panted, his hot lips and tongue trailing along my collarbone as he murmured, "Don't go." In my past life, on the night I received my acceptance letter from London Business School, Rocco got blind drunk. Late that night, I gave in to his pleas for me to stay. I willingly gave myself to him. After a debauched night, his cherished fiancée, Clara, caught me walking out of his room the next morning, my clothes in disarray. She ran out in tears, her parting words ringing in the air, "I'll let you have each other." A month after she disappeared, the family search party found her engagement ring at the edge of a cliff. At the bottom of the cliff lay mangled remains, battered by the waves until they were unrecognizable. Rocco clutched that ring and didn't sleep all night. On the surface, he acted as if nothing had happened, even arranging a trip for me to Sicily, telling me to go and relax. The night I landed, I was kidnapped by assassins from a rival family. I screamed for him to pay the ransom, only to hear him give the order himself over the phone: "Don't make her death a quick one. The Costello princess? She's nothing but a damn liability. Torture her. Break every bone in her body. " "This is what she owes Clara." You like playing games, Rocco. But in this life, I refuse to play along.