Livia Cardew

I'm the daughter of Don Falcone. After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti. My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand. I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot. Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard. A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear. "Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?" I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me. Instead of getting mad, I smirked. "Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?" Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you." "Be smart and crawl back to your slum." I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé. I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.

I went into labor. And my mate, Alpha Alistair, locked me in a silver cage. The bars throbbed with curse runes, burning my skin. He did it for Livia. His dead brother's mate. Her pup had to be born first. That's when I learned the truth. He'd been poisoning me for months. All to make sure Livia's child would be the next Alpha. He called it "calming tea." A daily dose of poison to slow my pup's growth and delay my labor. But my body had other plans. My pup refused to wait. I went into labor at the same time as Livia. When he found out, he accused me of faking it. Of begging for sympathy. He let them poison me with wolfsbane. I lost my pup. A piece of my soul died with him. With my last breath, I reached out. To the one person who could save me. My brother, Alpha King Lucian. He came like a storm of rage. He burned the packhouse to the ground, with me inside. A phantom fire for all to see. Then, he plucked me from the flames. Only then, surrounded by the smoking ruins of his pack, did Alistair fall to his knees. His howl of regret tore through the night. For 99 days, he howled at the moon. Begging the Moon Goddess to return just a sliver of my soul.

When Thalia wakes reborn in the heart of Silverpine—a secluded werewolf pack—she remembers only fragments: the terror of her escape, the fire she unleashed, the coven sisters she left behind. Haunted by guilt and desperate to hide her witch’s power, Thalia is forced to play the role of the Alpha’s fated mate to protect herself and the pack from enemies within and without. Silverpine is a fortress of secrets, suspicion, and pack law. The council circles, hungry for weakness. Livia, the Alpha’s rival, wants Thalia gone. Only a handful know the truth of Thalia’s magic—and if word spreads, it will mean death for her and danger for the wolves she’s learning to care for. As she navigates brutal trials and dangerous alliances, Thalia is drawn to Rowan, the troubled Alpha who carries scars—physical and emotional—from battles with witches long past. Their fake engagement ignites a bond that neither can ignore, but trust is as dangerous as betrayal. When Rowan’s need for a mate clashes with Thalia’s instinct for survival, both are forced to confront the wounds of their pasts. Haunted by memories of her old coven—of Mira, the friend she left to burn—Thalia must decide: keep hiding, or reclaim the full force of her power. But the magic that saved her may destroy everything she’s come to love. As rival packs close in and the council demands blood, Thalia must choose between saving Silverpine and saving herself. In the ashes of her past, can she forge a new future—or will old betrayals rise to consume them all? A witch among wolves. A lie that can’t last. And a power that refuses to stay buried.

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.

“Your name?” a woman who’s wearing a dress, has pale lips and short hair asked me. I stuttered. “L-Livia Washington, ma’am,” I answered. “My husband and I can’t produce a child. I need your help and in exchange, I will reward you with money at your price. Just help me…” she said, her face screaming desperation and almost pleading. Without further hesitation, I nodded my head. “Just tell me what you want me to do, Ma’am…” I didn’t know that an offer I would be accepting would ruin the pipe dream I yearned for. Money. I need money. Surrogacy is the only quick way to get a billion dollars just like what they offered. However, things didn’t go the way I liked. “You came out with a woman again?” I busted out in anger after waiting for Archer to come home. He only scoffed, he was supposed to come upstairs yet I held his hand. “Just to remind you, Archer, you still have a wife waiting for you!” His jaw clenched then took his arms roughly. “Then you should have thought of your husband before cheating on me, and bearing someone else’s child, then, Livia!” he backfired, critically narrowing his eyes on mine. Being married to Archer for five years never became easy. I’m tired of it and was tormented with the punishment he had given to me. “A divorce won’t happen, Livia. I won’t give you the freedom you want. This is your punishment,” he narrowed his rough, stoic voice before coming to his room directly.

On the night of their second wedding anniversary, Adrian Cole publicly declared his love for his wife, Ava, gifting her a rare sapphire pendant that became the talk of the city. To the world, they were the perfect couple envied and admired but behind closed doors, Ava’s reality shattered. A single anonymous message exposed everything, Adrian’s personal assistant, Livia, wearing the same pendant, wrapped in his embrace. While society praised his devotion, Ava sat alone in a house that no longer felt like home, choking on betrayal she had unknowingly endured for years. For too long, she had played the obedient wife, enduring the scorn of her in-laws and Adrian’s cold excuses that his affair meant nothing, just a “momentary indulgence.” Confident she was bound to him by her family’s financial struggles, he believed she would never leave… even if it meant raising another woman’s child. But he was wrong. Quietly, Ava began to dismantle everything. She gathered evidence, secured her freedom, and walked away without a trace of the fragile woman he once knew. The woman who returned was no longer soft or submissive, but a brilliant and popular figure in the world of medical innovation, one whose name commanded respect. By the time Adrian realized what he had lost, it was already too late. Because the woman he once discarded now stood beside a far more powerful man, not just any man but his own UNCLE who looked at him with cold amusement and said, “Be careful with your words… That woman you call your wife now belongs to a world you can’t reach.”

La familia mafiosa Rossi seguía una regla ancestral. Antes del matrimonio, el heredero tenía una oportunidad cada año de sacar un sorteo. Si obtenía uno favorable, podía elegir a su propia esposa y evitar un matrimonio arreglado. Dante Rossi obtuvo un sorteo desfavorable durante cinco años consecutivos. Y yo, que llevaba siete años saliendo con él, nunca logré casarme a su lado. Este año marcaba el sexto. Escuché por casualidad su conversación con Marco Valentino, el subjefe. —Señor Rossi, le volvió a tocar un sorteo favorable. La voz de Dante tenía una frialdad inusual. —Como siempre, cámbialo por uno desfavorable. Marco dudó un momento antes de intentar persuadirlo. —Señor Rossi, ya lo ha cambiado durante cinco años seguidos. ¿No le preocupa que Celia se vaya? Es la mujer más hermosa de Nopales. La mitad de los hombres de la ciudad la persiguen. Dante respondió con total seguridad: —No lo hará. Celia me ama demasiado. No se casará con nadie más. —Hace años, el padre de Livia murió salvándome. Su último deseo fue que me quedara a su lado durante cinco años. Cuando este año termine, le daré a Celia una gran boda como compensación. Mi último rastro de esperanza murió al escuchar esas palabras. Dante probablemente no sabía que la familia Rossi tenía una última regla ancestral. Si el heredero no lograba obtener un sorteo favorable seis veces, perdería el derecho a elegir su propio matrimonio. Además, yo pronto me casaría con alguien más.

A família mafiosa Rossi seguia uma regra ancestral. Antes de se casar, o herdeiro recebia, todos os anos, uma única chance de tirar a sorte. Se tirasse uma sorte favorável, poderia escolher a própria esposa e escapar de um casamento arranjado. Dante Rossi tirou uma sorte desfavorável por cinco anos consecutivos, e eu, que namorava com ele fazia sete anos, nunca consegui me casar. Aquele já era o sexto ano. Por acaso, ouvi a conversa dele com Marco Valentino, o Subchefe. — Sr. Rossi, o senhor tirou uma sorte favorável de novo. — A voz de Dante carregava uma frieza que eu nunca tinha escutado antes. — Como sempre, troque por uma sorte desfavorável. Marco hesitou por um instante, mas ainda tentou convencê-lo: — Sr. Rossi, o senhor faz essa troca há cinco anos seguidos. Não tem medo de que Celia vá embora? Celia é a mulher mais bonita de Nopales. Metade dos homens da cidade corre atrás dela. Dante respondeu com absoluta convicção: — Ela não vai. Celia me ama demais. Nunca vai se casar com outro homem. Depois, continuou, no mesmo tom calmo: — Anos atrás, o pai de Livia morreu para me salvar. Antes de fechar os olhos, ele me pediu que eu ficasse ao lado dela por cinco anos. Quando este ano terminar, vou compensar Celia com um casamento grandioso. Ao ouvir aquelas palavras, o último fio de esperança dentro de mim se partiu. Dante provavelmente não sabia que a família Rossi ainda guardava uma última regra ancestral. Se o herdeiro não tirasse uma sorte favorável por seis vezes, perderia o direito de decidir o próprio casamento. E, em breve, eu me casaria com outro homem.