Grabbed Synonym

The second I opened my eyes, I knew. I was twenty-seven again. Back when I was the Leone heiress. The golden girl of Arezzo. Engaged to the Don of the Grimaldis—Marco Grimaldi. Handsome. Loaded. Time magazine's "No.1 Most Desirable Husband in the World." Even the royal family of Inglane had tried to marry a princess off to him. Everyone called me the luckiest woman alive. Yeah. Right. The first thing I did after coming back? I grabbed the marriage contract and walked straight to my father's affair daughter— the fiancée Marco had actually wanted all along. Bella Leone. I slid the contract across the table. "It's yours. You're marrying Marco." She just stared at me. Six years. That's how long I'd chased him. And now I was handing over the contract like it meant nothing. "Everyone thinks you're the better match anyway," I said. "So go ahead. Convince Dad to get the Grimaldis to switch the contract. You can have the Grimaldi Donna title." Not this time. I'm not becoming that suffocated, invisible Don's wife ever again.

Award-winning actress Jennifer Shaw was convinced I had deliberately tipped off the paparazzi about our relationship, hoping to use the exposure to pressure her into marriage. She grabbed my chin and splashed scalding water across my face. "You're no different from all those men clawing their way to the top. "You want fame? Fine. I'll make you famous. Famous enough that you won't dare show your face again." Within days, I was blacklisted online. With a burned face and a crippled right hand, I was thrown out of her villa on a night of pouring rain. That same evening, she walked the red carpet arm in arm with a rising young star, soaking in the thunderous applause. I dragged my suitcase down the deserted road and disappeared into the rain. Four years later, we crossed paths again on a parenting reality show. She watched as I stepped onto the stage as an ordinary guest, a little girl beside me who openly rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes reddened as she moved to block my way. "Where did you get that child?" she demanded. "What are you trying to do?"

I burned my painting right in front of the students and university staff. Thunderous applause filled the hall. Everyone thought it was some kind of performance. But my senior in the graduate program panicked. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice tight. “Connor, have you gone mad? This is your only shot to prove yourself!” I shook him off, cold. A chance? That was his chance, right? During my past life, he stole the painting I poured my heart and soul into and entered it in the competition ahead of me. The composition, the colors, even my original technique… He copied all of it. He won the Gold Award for the National Youth Art Competition, signed with a top gallery, and basked in glory. Meanwhile, I was branded a shameless plagiarist. The insults and curses overwhelmed me completely. "Get out of the art scene already!" “A plagiarist like you should just die!” His fans stormed my studio, smashed my tools, and broke my right hand. With my world in ruins, I jumped off the studio roof. Opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day my senior accused me of plagiarism.

…Moved by her plight, I made a firm decision. "I will help you," I said, looking into her eyes with sincerity. But it came with a condition, and I wanted her to be aware of it. There were always strings attached to this world. Her question lingered in the air. "What conditions?" Abebi asked, seeking clarity. I took a deep breath, "You will give me your body. You shall become my mistress." "I will think about it." She said as she sermons unbelievable courage and looks at me straight in the eye for the first time since our conversation. "I need to go now." "Where do you think you are going? Our deal starts now." I grabbed her hand, preventing her from further moving close to the door. "If you want to live, you better start undressing yourself," I ordered. I watched as he obediently obeyed my instructions… ******* {Strong female lead & originally mafia novel} In the gritty underworld of crime and desperation, a young girl named Abebi found herself trapped in a web of darkness. With her father's debts looming over her family, she had no choice but to step into the dangerous world of the mafia.

"Strip!" He ordered me so casually like it was his routine, gesturing towards his master bed. "Lay on your back and spread your legs wide." "No!" My refusal was barely audible, but still, it got a severe reaction. He clutched my neck in his sharp claws, growling furiously, "You'll do as I say, omega!" Struggling hard for breath, I grabbed his claw, staring back into his ablaze eyes. "Even if my suggestion is better than yours?" ... Omega Shyla's world crumbled down around her when her husband, Alpha Raymond, divorced her on the day of her Luna accession. Banished from her pack, she swore to hide her pregnancy. Her unborn child was the only ray of hope in that impenetrable darkness. Lycan King Maddox Miller, a merciless murderer ruling over the shifter kind, was another name of devil. But the long search for his soulmate drove him crazy, turning him into a stone-hearted beast. What would happen when his path crossed with Shyla, a mere omega fated to be his soulmate? Would he be able to accept her child? Or the return of remorseful Alpha Raymond would ruin their bond for good?

"The deal was to become the fake mother of your twins, live with them and act like their sweet, perfect bossom only. Follow the contract and fucking let go of me" she glared, her hazel eyes wavering as she lay trapped under the devil, on his king-sized bed. "Say that again" his dulcet voice ran deep into her veins, his hand trapping her wrist above the headboard. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" She spat but her breaths hitched when the man slipped his fingers in between her sinfully-soaked thighs. "Aren't you such a bad little liar, dolcissima?" --- Violette La Rosa wasted five years of her life loving a man who saw her as nothing but his financial fountain. On the day of her wedding with him, she found out a secret which shattered her. Stung by the fatal venom of betrayal, Violette resorted to stabbing Dominic on the alter. Jail was inevitable, but in the wild turnaround, she got an offer from the most devilish mafia living—Massimo Visconti,, boss of the Cosa Nostra. Desperate Violette grabbed the offer with her two hands, but can she get used to living with the devil and his spawns?

Buried deep in the Aster estate was the Heartwood—ancient, sacred, mine. Told my husband, Julian Aster—back when he actually listened—that if it ever fell, I'd die with it. At first, he freaked out. Flew in glacier water, hired a whole squad of plant experts to nurture it 24/7. Then one day, just because his childhood friend—Isabella Duvall—got a scratch from the bark, Julian had the Heartwood ripped out. The second it crashed, I choked on glowing blood—ichor. My power? Gone. Barely standing, I grabbed his arm. "You knew. If the Heartwood dies, I—" He laughed. Straight-up mocked me. "Sera, come on. That fairy tale? Only Grandma still believes that crap. Is that mayo on your mouth? Relax—it's a tree. I'll buy you a forest if you want." Overnight, my hair turned gray. Skin cracked. Eyes dulled. Still, I dragged myself to his grandmother, Henrietta. "I kept your family safe for two hundred years. That's why the Asters thrived. But the Heartwood's gone. Debt's paid. One day left. Whatever happens next? Not my problem."

Five years ago, when my boyfriend's small company was on the brink of bankruptcy I stepped in to save him, quietly supporting him from the shadows. Without revealing my identity, I became the company’s largest shareholder. Five years later, the night before his company was set to go public, he held me in his arms and said, "Emma, after the company goes public tomorrow, don’t leave. I have a surprise for you." At that moment, I was swept away by the idea of his "surprise," my mind racing with the hopeful thought that he might propose. I didn’t notice the cold glint of malice lurking in his eyes. The next day, as his company went public, he slapped me across the face and sneered, "Do you even see what kind of person you are? Did you really think someone like you could marry me?" He grabbed me by the hair and dragged both me and my best friend in front of a crowd of thugs and beggars he’d gathered. “These worthless cast-offs aren’t good enough for me anymore. Consider them my gift to you. Do whatever you like with them!”

"You are coming with us", Bryan the first born twin said with no room for argument to Kira. "I am not going anywhere with both of you", Kira snarled at them. "You are going to come with us Mate, when we get back to the pack, then we can talk about everything else", Aiden said to her. "I said, NO", Kira yelled at them, "I will never go back to that pack, I will never go anywhere with you two, I don't even want to be mated to both of you", she told them and started laughing while cleaning off the tears that rolled down from her eyes, "Do you know what?", she raised her brow at them,  "I reje-" But before she could complete that sentence, the Alpha twins quickly grabbed her, each on one side, their fangs elongated and bit down on her neck, marking her forcefully. Omega Kira at seventeen was exiled from her pack, accused of something she had nothing to do with by the Alpha Twins of her pack, Alpha Bryan Tyrell and Alpha Aiden Tyrell. Three years later they meet again, under an unusual circumstance and it turns out that Kira is the Alpha twins Mate.

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it. When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end. “Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?” I looked up. The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle. “Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.” I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me. I didn’t say a word. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face. Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed. He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little. Then he spoke, his voice strained. “I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.” The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me. When he said something, he meant it.