Honey Don T Run Away Novels & Stories

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

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.

At our wedding ceremony, the four-year-old nephew of my fiance, Michael Thompson, suddenly rushes onto the stage. He grabs his uncle's hand and cries, "Daddy, why are you marrying another woman? Don't you want me and Mommy anymore?" Seeing this, Lisa Jenner quickly runs over to intervene. She sounds apologetic, but her words are slightly provocative. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. Danny lost his father when he was little and has always seen Michael as his dad. He didn't mean to cause trouble." Even Michael remains completely calm as he picks up Danny. He explains to me, "Before David passed away, he made me promise to take care of his widow and child. I only let Danny call me 'Daddy' so he could have a normal childhood. You understand, right?" As I look at the three of them, standing there like the perfect family, I laugh coldly and rip off my veil. "This poor child has been through so much. How could I possibly steal his dad away? "You know what? Why don't I just let Lisa take my place up here? Then you can have your happy little family of three."

The mafia coalition’s family banquet had reached its liveliest point. Someone started stirring things up and steered the conversation toward the youngest Don of the Fumagalli family, Dante Fumagalli. “Dante, before you came to power, all those old Dons from the major families were falling over themselves to push their daughters at you. Was there ever one you actually wanted?” I stood half a step behind him, and my knuckles turned white around my wine glass. Dante did not answer right away. His gaze swept over me, cool and indifferent, before he turned toward Viviana Lombardi, who still held the crowd’s attention. “I wanted her.” Viviana spun around so fast that wine splashed from her glass onto her wrist. “Then why did you not come when I gave you that hotel key card all those years ago?” The calm on Dante’s face finally cracked. He frowned. “Your key card? Was that not for Enzo Ricci?” “How could it have been for Enzo?” Viviana’s eyes reddened. “He is my first cousin.” One question led to another and the truth emerged. That hotel key card had been handed to the wrong person by a Soldato. Because of that mistake, they had missed each other. Viviana burst into tears on the spot. Regret shadowed Dante’s expression. Just then, someone laughed softly. “What a coincidence. Was the key card really delivered to the wrong person, or did someone make sure it ended up in the wrong hands?” In an instant, every eye in the room turned to me. Everyone remembered me. I was the woman who used to trail after Dante Fumagalli like a lovesick fool. I turned to look at Dante and hoped he would say something for me. I hoped he would tell them we had been secretly married for five years and that he had been the one who pursued me back then. He said nothing. He did not defend me. He did not deny anything. He stared ahead in silence as if none of this had anything to do with him. In that moment, I pulled off the wedding ring I had worn for five years.

Gracie Miller's father is a big time fraudster— scamming rich people for a living. At least until he crosses the wrong people. The infamous Black Silver Cartel with control over the European black markets. A mafia cartel. To prevent her father from being killed, Gracie is taken as hostage by the leader of this cartel, Raymond Silver. But then when sparks begin to fly, can Gracie overlook the fact that— she's falling for her kidnapper?

I had given up the Luna position six times for Silas Blackthorn. The first time, I shattered every moonstone lamp in the master bedroom and threw his clothes into the rain. The second time, I cried until my wolf went hoarse, asking him why I had to be the one who stepped aside. The third time, I begged him to leave at least one suitcase behind, because I was terrified he would never come back. By the fifth time, I had learned to fold his coats, pack his luggage, and stay silent so he would not get angry. Every time, he kissed my forehead and promised, “Seven days. Then everything goes back to normal.” And every time, I believed him. Until the sixth time. This time, when Silas handed me the document and asked me to step aside again, I signed without crying. He thought it was another temporary Luna authorization form. He did not know it was the mate bond release agreement. Seven days later, while he waited for me to return to the main house and reclaim my title, the bond between us broke. And by then, I had already left Blackthorn territory for good.

I showed up to Luciano's birthday in his favorite lingerie—ready to surprise him. Instead, I walked in on him hooking up with my half-sister, Cecilia. Classic. So yeah, I dumped him on the spot and hit the nearest bar to blackout my rage. One thing led to another, and I ended up having a one-night stand with this insanely hot stranger. Plot twist? He turned out to be Luciano's adoptive dad. Yeah—Lysandro Godino. The freaking mafia Don. Since then, my life's been a mess of his dark world, intense nights, and seriously confusing feelings. He's wild. Possessive. Obsessive. The kind of man who doesn't believe in limits. And somewhere in all that chaos, I fell for him—hard. But does he love me back? I still don't know.

The day I went into labor with the twins, I bribed the family doctor to shoot me up with every heavy-duty suppressant he could get his hands on. Anything to stall the birth. Why? Because in my last life, Vincent—my husband, the Don—claimed to have a low sperm count. To guarantee an heir, he lined up ten mistresses and told the whole house: whoever popped out a son first, her kid would be the next Corleone Don. He promised if I delivered first, he'd ditch the others. Said our baby would inherit the throne. I bought every word. When I found out I was carrying twins, I couldn't stop shaking—I thought I'd won. But after I gave birth, he tossed me and the babies into the freezing wine cellar and locked the place down. "Lucy came from nothing. I just wanted to give her kid a name. You started rumors, pushed her into despair, and now she's dead—her and the baby. You're vile. Not fit to be the Don's wife. Think about what you've done. I'll open the door in three days." Then he had the butler seal it shut. What he didn't know? That night, the cellar caught fire. Me and my babies? Burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right before labor. This time, I'm not staying. Soon as I deliver and get back on my feet, I'm taking my kids and disappearing for good.

It was the third year of my marriage to Antonio Rizzo, Don of the Rizzo mafia family. He kept a younger woman on the side and had everyone keep it from me. They all said I was his first love, his weakness, the treasure he brought back from Cocily. However, when he got drunk, he laughed and told the family members, "I love Elena, but she's a bit boring in bed. She's just not wild enough. "You all know how it is. Men like a little excitement, like Caterina. She's young, beautiful, and knows how to have fun." The boy who had sworn in church at 17 that he would love me forever now held a young, beautiful blonde in his arms as he coaxed her, "As long as Elena doesn't find out, you can do whatever you want." The day I left, everything seemed normal. No one noticed anything unusual. The maid, Maria Russo, even smiled and asked me, "Signora, are you going shopping?" I smiled lightly and nodded. "No need to prepare dinner tonight." Antonio did not know that the 'boring' Elena he spoke of was the daughter of the Santoro mafia family. The women of the Santoro family never forgave betrayal.

She was back. She is innocent and beautiful. She was intimidated. He was ambitious. He is kind and handsome. He falls in love. In the sultry haze of passion’s fire, Two hearts collided, desire unbridled. Their love, a clandestine affair, Igniting flames that danced and swirled. Amidst tangled sheets and whispered vows, they wove a tale of stolen moments, Each touch a confession, each kiss a plea, To drown in the depths of their shared ecstasy. The moon bore witness to their stolen nights, As they traced constellations on bare skin, Their secrets etched in sweat and sighs, A love forbidden, yet impossible to rescind. But dawn arrived, cruel and unyielding, tearing them apart like fragile petals. Promises whispered, promises broken, Their hearts left bleeding, forever unsettled. And so, they became ghosts of passion, haunted by memories of that steamy affair, Their love a bittersweet ache, a silent confession, In the quiet hours when the world ceased to care. For love, once ignited, never truly dies, It lingers in the shadows, a smoldering flame, A testament to the heat of their stolen nights, A tale of love after a steamy affair, untamed.