I Never

Samir Kane was the man of my dreams, the man I’ve always wanted. So imagine my joy when he walked into my favorite cafe, went down on one knee, and brought a ring up to my face. I was beyond elated of course. I mean it was a dream come true. Little did I know that it was also going to be my nightmare disguised as a dream. Samir not only roped me into a marriage with him for selfish reasons. However, I’ve yearned for his love and acceptance for years, but he treated me with the opposite and disrespect instead. And after he was fed up, he decided to discard me. He decided I’m no longer worth it, that it’s time we part ways, and his thoughtful gift for me on the night of our five years anniversary were divorce documents. How rich? Because that was all it took for me to venture into the brutal side. Watch out Samir, I’m now on the hunt for your wreckage, and there’s no stopping until I’ve brought you exactly where you once had me.

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.

For five years, Vixen loved and waited for her mate’s devotion, only to find he had already given his heart to another—her own stepsister. Betrayed and stripped of everything, she watches the child she raised choose another, and her world crumbles. But Vixen is not done. From heartbreak rises fury, from loss power, and from betrayal emerges a woman determined to make them pay. The man who once rejected her will fall to his knees, desperate to reclaim her. But Vixen has already found someone else: a man who sees her for who she is, and will never let her go. 🔥SNEAK PEEK🔥 Vixen felt his gaze before his hand closed around her wrist, dragging her into the shadowed alcove beyond the ballroom lights. “You keep looking at him.” The accusation burned low and dangerous. Her breath faltered as his body boxed her against the marble wall. “He was part of my life,” she whispered. His jaw tightened. “Was.” Across the hall, Kael laughed with Olaine. Vixen forced a smile. This should be interesting. But that smile was his breaking point. His fingers slid beneath her chin, forcing her gaze back to him — possessive, unyielding, furious in a way that made her pulse stutter. “You wear my name now,” he said roughly. “Your eyes don’t follow another man.” Her lips parted to argue. He kissed her before the words could form. Not gentle. Not patient. The kiss stole her breath, crushed her protest, branded heat into her veins as his hand tightened at her waist, holding her against him like a warning the entire world could read. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his voice raw and dark. “Let him watch,” he whispered. “Let him see exactly who you belong to.”

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.

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?"

6 days is all she needs ... Zuri takes a vacation to America but three men: Passion, Lust, and Desire reroute everything for her. She is in bliss out living the American dream but sometimes meeting a stranger isn't always in your best interest

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.

Arielle Santos 24 years old never imagined that her life would be written for her — even her love story. She was raised in a modest family, a dreamer who painted her hopes in colors only she could see. But one evening, her world collapsed when her parents revealed the truth: to save their family from bankruptcy, she had to marry the son of their business partner — Evan Monteverde, the 28 years old, cold and distant heir of one of the country’s most powerful companies. Evan didn’t believe in love. To him, emotions were distractions — weaknesses that could ruin a man. He had long promised himself never to trust feelings again after being betrayed by someone he once loved. So when his father announced his arranged marriage with a woman he barely knew, he didn’t protest for love’s sake — only to end the endless lectures about “duty” and “family legacy.” Their wedding day was perfect — at least in the eyes of the guests. But behind the veil and the smiles, two strangers stood at the altar, reciting vows they didn’t mean. The words “I do”echoed in the church, but neither of them truly did. After the ceremony, they made a deal — they would live together for one year, play their roles for the sake of appearances, and then quietly separate. No love. No expectations. Just peace. But peace was harder to keep than they thought.

I know I shouldn’t want him. Or them. There’s my best friend’s father, whose low, velvety voice makes my pulse stutter whenever he speaks. My stepbrother, whose accidental touches make my skin burn with unspoken tension. And my sister’s mate, whose cold, lingering gaze betrays a hunger I shouldn’t see. Every glance, every brush of skin, drags me deeper into temptation. Every heartbeat reminds me that wanting them is dangerous, forbidden… and maybe reckless. I’m caught between loyalty, morality, and desire, and every moment I give in only makes the fire stronger. Some lines aren’t meant to be crossed. Some fires are impossible to resist. And I’m learning the hard way… forbidden has never felt this good.

A unique video went viral overnight. In the video, on a snow-capped mountain peak, my boyfriend, Ted Moretti, knelt on one knee, his expression tender. Amidst applause, the ring on her finger sparkled; it was the ring of the Moretti family's future bride. Within hours, the video topped various trending charts. People hailed it as the most romantic proposal of the year. Anya Rossi later posted a message. "I've been looking forward to this wedding for so long, and now it's finally happening! Thank you!" The comment section was instantly flooded with excited exclamations. "A Mafia family heir and an ordinary woman? I love it!" "It's like something out of a novel." "So enviable." I went to my boyfriend to confirm. Before I could even speak, I heard him talking to a close friend in the study. “Do I have any other choice?” Ted said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “If I don’t marry her, her gambler father will sell her off.” His friend hesitated. “But what about Carly? She’s been with you for so many years. Aren’t you worried she might lose her mind?” Ted chuckled, unconcerned. “So what if she’s angry? Carly and I have been together for six years. She won’t leave. She can’t leave.” At that moment, something deep inside me seemed to freeze completely. A month later On the same day Ted and Carly got married, I married another man. Our wedding processions met downtown. According to custom, we exchanged bouquets between the two passing wedding cars, and our windows rolled down simultaneously. That’s when Ted saw me. I was wearing a white wedding dress. Not behind him. But in another man’s arms. After knowing Ted Moretti for so many years, his consistently perfect composure crumbled for the first time.