I Have Never Abandoned The Tyrant Novels & Stories

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered. My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years. They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas. When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears. I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads. My brother's regret level read: 40%. My father's showed: 60%. Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head. But my mother's regret level? It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.

The Rossi mafia family followed an ancestral rule. Before marriage, the heir received one chance each year to draw lots. Drawing a fortunate lot meant he could choose his own spouse and avoid an arranged marriage. Dante Rossi drew an unfortunate lot for five consecutive years, and I, who had been dating him for seven years, never managed to marry him. This year marked the sixth year. I overheard his conversation with Marco Valentino, the Underboss. "Mr. Rossi, you drew a fortunate lot again." Dante's voice carried an unprecedented coldness. "Same as always, switch it to an unfortunate lot." Marco hesitated, then tried to persuade him. "Mr. Rossi, you've switched it for five years straight. Aren't you worried Celia will leave? Celia's the most beautiful woman in Nopales. Half the men in the city are chasing her." Dante said with absolute certainty, "She won't. Celia loves me too much. She won't marry anyone else. "Years ago, Livia's father died saving me. His dying wish was for me to stay by her side for five years. After this year ends, I'll give Celia a grand wedding as compensation." My last shred of hope died after I heard those words. Dante probably did not know that the Rossi family had one final ancestral rule. If the heir failed to draw a fortunate lot six times, he would lose the right to choose his own marriage. Moreover, I would soon be marrying someone else.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

"I hate you!" Allison spat, her teeth grinding against each other loudly in anger. "You do?" Dante asked, grinning wolfishly. His gold eyes glinted in amusement. Darting his tongue, he licked his canines as he eyed her plump parted lips. "How about we find out how much?" And before she could blink, he smashed his lips against hers. **** When the Lycan King comes to visit Allison's pack, the last thing she expected was to find out he was her mate. Heck, the last thing she wanted was a mate. With the murder of her parents on her mind and running her pack as a Beta, Allison has no need and no taste for the Lycan King nor his terrible reputation as a womanizer. How long though can she resist his charms or the pull of the mate bond? And with her parents murderers lurking in the shadows, how far will she go for her revenge?

It is the third year of the apocalypse. All water sources have been thoroughly polluted, making even a single bottle of clean water extremely rare. Every base has to send out search teams to find new water sources for all. My husband, Jasper Curran, is a geologist, and so, he is able to locate water sources that are still pure and unpolluted. However, when someone holds a knife to my throat for the last bottle of water—thinking that he will do anything to stop them—he hands the only bottle of clean water to Avery Grayson, the person who claimed she was my parents' real daughter instead of me. "Ave is thirsty. She's been suffering since she was little and she even had her parents taken by you, Arianne Grayson," Jasper says. "Just let her have the water." Jasper's expression is too calm and collected, as if my life is not on the line because of him. "They're just trying to scare you. You've enjoyed so many years of being spoiled with a luxurious lifestyle anyway. So what if you get bullied a little?" The people then kick me to the ground in a fit of rage as I watch Jasper huddle Avery into his arms and disappear into the desert. I get beaten up so hard that my chapped lips crack and start bleeding once again. I look at the menacing faces around me and quickly exclaim, "Wait, wait! I can help you find clean water too!"

Warning ⚠️: This isn’t your sweet, ordinary romance. If morally grey heroines, obsessive ex, narcissistic Husband and messy emotions aren’t your thing… turn back now. —------------------- I died that day….not just because Michael humiliated and killed me, but because he had the nerve to suggest an open marriage with his secretary. If I had known it would end like that, I would have rejected his marriage proposal in a heartbeat. But fate gave me a second chance. I’m Lora Brown, a famous fashion designer, reborn to rewrite my destiny. This time, I’ll become the sexy, confident wife Michael always claimed he wanted. But he won’t get another shot at me. Not when other men are vying for my heart… and I’m ready to choose one.

You’ll divorce me… because she asked you to?” Sereia Fontaine never believed love was fair she always knew it was cruel and pain filled but what she didn’t know was that on the night she thought she was celebrating her marriage, she would be handed divorce papers,by the man she loved dearly simply because her sister said so. The woman her husband truly loves has returned and she wants her place back. Sereia has always been the one who waits. She loved a man who never chose her, lived in a home that never felt like hers, and spent years convincing herself that love meant endurance. When the past resurfaces, Sereia’s world collapses fast. Words are twisted. Loyalty turns fragile. Cast out with nothing but shame and sadness. Sereia is forced to face a life of struggle but New York is full of dangerous men, broken promises, and second chances that don’t come without a cost. And some lies don’t stay buried… even when they should.

Who said a parallel universe does not exist! He swore never to fall in love again. He's ruthless and cold. Lucas Quinn, is rich beyond anyone's wildest imagination and no one has ever been able to get close to him. All he cares about in life is perfection, which he always is looking for in novels and what not. But then an unruly, perfectly imperfect lady, Tasha Rowan, bumps into him, ruining a first edition book signed by the best-selling classic author in town. And she is the exact version of his dead girlfriend!

When my parents call to tell me they are taking me to my childhood friend, Oliver Holland's house to meet his blind date, he is still asleep beside me. I think they are joking and whisper, "Oliver, they said they've found you someone to date." He gives a lazy hum and pulls me into his arms. "Gerry, help me pick out something to wear later. And fix my hair, too." When I freeze, Oliver opens his eyes and lets out a short, mocking laugh. "What's wrong with you? We're just sleeping together. You don't actually think I'm going to marry you, do you?"

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.