Hey Im Bee Novels & Stories

I had just returned from studying design abroad when my grandfather insisted that he had already arranged a childhood betrothal for me. The moment I got back to the country, he dragged me straight to the Hunt family's residence to discuss the engagement. The adults talked endlessly, and I quickly grew bored sitting there. Slipping away quietly, I wandered into the Hunt family garden for a walk. Out of nowhere, a woman rushed toward me and slapped me hard across the face. "Where did this shameless woman come from? How dare you steal my things!" I covered my cheek and stared at her in shock. The woman lifted her chin arrogantly, her tone dripping with condescension, as if she were granting me charity. "That ruby on your hand was a birthday gift from the young master of the Hunt family. A poor girl like you—how could you possibly afford to wear it?!" I opened my mouth, about to explain that it was mine. But before I could say a word, she struck me across the face again. "Do you even know who I am? I'm the Hunt family's future daughter-in-law—the future Mrs. Hunt! The entire Hunt family will listen to me!" I pulled out my phone and, right in front of her, sent a message to the contact labeled Fiancé. "Lucas, there's a mad dog in your house. Are you going to do something about it or not?"

Ten years after my wealthy family took me back, I died in the rental house my billionaire parents had dumped me in. My son was three. Just to mess with me, the kidnapper gave me three chances to call for help. If even one person was willing to come see me, he'd spare my child. The first call was to my father, the man who'd spent fifteen years searching for me. He was busy directing the staff as they set up my adoptive sister's birthday party. When he picked up, he barked, "Estelle Emerson, seriously? Can you go one week without causing a scene? It's your sister's birthday. I'm busy. Don't kill the vibe." The second call was to my mother, the woman who brought me home and changed my name from Dixie to Estelle. But Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out. "Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?" The third time, I called Luca's father, my legal husband. He said he was in a meeting and didn't have time to play games with me. He also said that if I behaved myself, he'd agree to take me home for dinner next week. After the final call ended, I looked at the grinning kidnapper in despair and sent the last two messages of my life. A photo of myself covered in blood. And a short message, every word sincere. [I'm really going to die. In my next life, don't bring me home.]

My employees host a savage livestream cursing me out as a cold-blooded Scrooge just because I didn't hand out frozen turkeys for Thanksgiving. What the internet didn't know was that our company, rooted in a powerful mafia family, has one, single, unbreakable tradition for every major holiday: ten uncirculated American Eagle gold bullion coins hand-delivered directly from our private vault. No paper trails, no taxes, no exceptions. As the whole internet was calling for my head after watching her livestream, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I sent out a company-wide memo: "To honor our cherished holiday traditions, the family gold distribution program will be discontinued this year. In its place, to ensure everyone experiences a traditional Thanksgiving, all employees will receive a complimentary, grocery-tier frozen turkey." The memo dropped. The office exploded. A stampede of my employees swarmed my office door, practically on their knees begging me to bring back the gold.

After fifteen years away, I was finally brought back to the DeLuca family. I thought I was returning to my real home. Instead, I walked into a house where the adopted daughter wanted me dead, my father treated me like a burden, and my brothers would rather watch me bleed than make her cry. On my first day back, she set dogs on me. That night, I was dragged to the top of the observatory and forced to apologize to her. When I fell from the tower covered in blood, they still called me a liar. Because in the DeLuca family, I may have been the real daughter by blood— but she was the daughter they loved. She thought she could bully me, poison me, and freeze me to death without consequence. She was wrong. Because the night I nearly died, my mother finally chose me—and turned a gun on the whole DeLuca family.

Two months remained until debut evaluation night. Before our unit performance, our main dancer suddenly offered me her center position. I stared at her, confused, "The trainers always praise your stage presence. Why give up your spot?" "You... you deserve center more than I do." Her smile was painfully forced, and she was fidgeting with her practice clothes - obviously not saying what she really felt. Puzzled by her strange behavior, I asked, "Are my moves too big? Am I making it hard for you to perform?" She suddenly started shaking, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes. After what felt like forever, she finally choked out, "Please, just stop. I won't try to compete with you for center anymore!"

The dagger goes in before she understands her consort is the one holding it. ——— My consort is the one holding the blade. I fall into the Forbidden Zone with his voice in my ear — *You were never going to be the queen this kingdom needed, Rose is everything you are not* — and every stroke downward the Hollow drinks my color, my voice, my breath. As I sink through the dark I understand, in a rising tide of memory I can no longer outrun, what I refused to see: my cousin Rose has been his lover for three years. My uncle Rick has been my father's killer for seven months. I hit the Hollow's floor among the skeletons of seven women who came before me. I should die there. A black pearl pulses in the dark and asks me one question. I say yes. What rises from the Forbidden Zone is not the princess they pushed. My scales burn blood-red shot through with molten gold and piercing teal, edged in obsidian. My voice shatters coral when I choose. I can drain a merfolk's power until their scales grey to driftwood, and I can shift any being between human and merfolk form. But the pearl hungers. Black veins creep across my chest with every life I take. And the throne I want back? It was never the prize. It was the trap. ——— Will Irene become the villainess her kingdom fears? Or will she remember the girl they buried long enough to choose what kind of queen to be? And the older sister who has been waiting two hundred years to use her — what happens when Irene decides the family she was born into is not the one worth dying for?

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.

The day my fated mate, Blake, held his mating ceremony with the pack’s true princess, Morgana, I almost did it. I almost chugged a vial of rage serum, stormed the altar, and tore them both to shreds. A murder-suicide. A fitting end. But as my hand trembled around the vial, my phone rang. It was the doctor from the Alliance Medical Center. "Ma'am, you're pregnant..." The vial slipped from my fingers. I froze. Half an hour later, cheers erupted from the pack's Moonlight Altar. And just like that, I, the fake princess of the Crescent Moon pack, vanished from Silvercrest City. Just as everyone wanted. I fled a thousand miles to the Southern Alliance. I survived a rogue wolf riot and gave birth to my daughter. My own blood. My old life was completely gone. But four years later, they started showing up again, one by one. “Cora, we’ve been looking for you for years. You’re alive? Why didn’t you come home?”

As Don Julian Vitale's woman, I've accompanied him every step of the way, from the streets all the way to the peak. It all starts because I don't like the way Julian's god-sister, Milena Santoro, uses so much force in dressing my wounds that I've dismissed her in favor of other people. The next day, my explicit photos are plastered all over the underground casino's chips. I clutch my abdomen, which still sports the stab wound I've blocked for Julian. As I search for him, I end up overhearing his subordinates' lewd laughter outside a private room. "Winona sure is hot, Don Vitale! Now that her body's printed all over the chips, our luck has tremendously increased as well!" "That's not it! Previously, Don Vitale rewarded me by letting me grope Winona's chest! Because of that, I was able to seal a business deal that's worth tens of millions of dollars!" "Then again, Don Vitale, won't Winona get into a fight with you for spreading her explicit photos like this?" Julian puffs out some smoke while toying with a casino chip with my crotch printed on it. "She's just a plaything whom Lady Luck favors. Without my protection, she's even lower than a mutt. Besides, she's nothing compared to Milena, and yet she has the gall to complain about how much force Milena uses in dressing her wounds?" As the crotch-imprinted chip is flung onto the table carelessly, I feel my heart dying once and for all.

They tried to erase her. She survived. Raised in a place designed to break children, she grows up learning one rule above all else: endure quietly. Hunger is discipline. Pain is routine. Obedience is survival. She doesn’t know her real name, her family, or why certain men with clean shoes and cold eyes always seem to be watching. Until the night she runs. Bleeding, hunted, and half-dead, she escapes an institution that was never meant to let her live past usefulness. What she doesn’t know is that the symbol burned into her skin isn’t a punishment it’s a claim. A mark left by a powerful underground network that doesn’t lose what it owns. Her collapse brings her into the path of three brothers who rule the city’s shadows men whose wealth buys silence, whose violence is surgical, and whose loyalty to blood is absolute. At first, she’s just another wounded stranger pulled from the streets. Then one brother recognizes the mark. And everything changes. Because years ago, the brothers tried to dismantle a trafficking empire known only as The Circle. They thought it was gone. They were wrong. The girl they saved isn’t a random survivor she’s a missing investment. A living mistake The Circle intends to reclaim. As fragments of her past surface, a terrifying truth emerges: she wasn’t abandoned as a child. She was stolen. Trained. Conditioned. And when she escaped, she didn’t just save herself she reignited a war. Hunted by a network that erases people without a trace, and protected by men who don’t lose once they claim something as theirs, she must decide whether she’ll keep running… or turn and burn everything that tried to own her.