Mature Mistress

To prevent the merfolk from being slaughtered, I decided to go ashore and seduce my childhood friend Cyrus, who had become the Alpha King. He still loved me deeply, and we spent three passionate days and nights together in bed. Waking up from a haze of pleasure, I hadn't even had the chance to rejoice before a corrosive elixir was dunked over my head. Listening to my pained wails, Cyrus smirked. "So even an immortal mermaid can feel pain, too? "Well, this is just a taste of what's to come if you don't tell me where my parents are!" Yes, he was convinced that the merfolk were behind his parents' disappearance. From then on, I was forced to watch him flirt with his mistress, Emily; had to extract my mermaid pearl to help heal her body; was forced to dance barefoot to entertain Emily so that she could sleep… Cyrus hated every fiber of my being, yet always held me tenderly in his arms whenever I was on the brink of death, carefully feeding me medicine. Sometimes, he was cruel. "Do you think I'll go easy on you just because I love you? Quick, continue torturing her!" Sometimes, he was gentle. "Can't you be good and tell me where my parents are?" Silently, I endured his twisted love without a word. Soon, however, these days would come to an end, and I wouldn't have to keep that secret any longer. After all, a mermaid who did not return to the sea after three years on land… Would turn into seafoam. And now, there were only three days until my time was up.

Four months pregnant. I was alone when a rival family came for me.. A searing pain tore through my stomach. I couldn't reach my husband, Don Lorenzo. His phone was off. I woke up in a sterile hospital bed. Three days had passed. And the baby... was gone. That’s when I heard the nurses gossiping. “Heard Don Lorenzo cleared out a block of Fifth Avenue for his mistress three days ago. Had his phone off so they wouldn't be disturbed.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my heart was empty. I gave up my career, my whole life, for him. The Don who promised me forever… he shattered that promise just days before our fifth anniversary. Back home, I dug out an old phone and made a call. A number I hadn't touched in five years. "The European tour you mentioned…" I said, my voice hollow. "I'm in. I can be ready in a week."

[WARNING: Mature Content] "Aren't you a feisty little forte," His rough voice almost made her jump in fright. Her tied wrist ached with the knowledge he was clutching tight to it. He leaned close to her with his lips over her ear and whispered. "No one escapes from me, troublemaker, not even the dead." ____________ Ivanna, a petite princess ran from home after being told to replace her elder sister by marrying a man old enough to be her grandpa. That wasn't the perfect prince-charming marriage she had thought of when she was little. Her parents didn't heed her pleas when she said no. So, she had only one way; To escape. And she fled. But what will she do when she accidentally falls into the hands of the nastiest man she'd ever met? A man whose expression didn't change as he killed his third-in-command for knocking over his stuff. Will her arranged marriage still take place, or will the devil force her into marriage to keep her as his pet? __________ "I am not so bad, Princess," That was the only thing he said before breaking the neck of a man that had earlier gazed seductively at her. "Except when they want my stuff."

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

My best friend, Sabrina Reeves, hates children. She wants a child of her own, but she doesn't want to give birth to her own child. So, she sought me out and asked me to help give birth to a child for her. She even claimed that her child would be my child, and that they'd take care of me when I grew old. I thought she was crazy. Also, I warned her that it was illegal to find a surrogate mother in our country. Out of fury, Sabrina cut off all ties with me and called me a shameless wretch. "It's just giving birth to a child! I can do that too!" But Sabrina started smoking, drinking, and bar-hopping a lot. She could never get pregnant no matter what. After that, her husband brought his mistress and illegitimate child home before kicking Sabrina out. "Even a hen is capable of laying eggs! I've married you for so long, yet you can't even get pregnant! You really are a loser! "I never said anything about you wanting your best friend to give birth to my child! But you can't even get that done! Isn't this all your fault?" Sabrina pinned the blame on me. She slashed my stomach open repeatedly with a blade. Just like that, I died from the sheer pain. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Sabrina asks me to help give birth to a child for her.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

I've been married to my wife, Stacy Howard, for 12 years now. She doesn't let me sleep with her unless it's on the 5th or 20th of the month. I thought she was just uninterested in physical intimacy. That is, until I accidentally witness her walking together with her first love, Devin Fisher, on the street on Thanksgiving Day. Stacy, who's always cold and aloof to me, is actually smiling softly at Devin. Our daughter, Tammy Gilbert, tags along with them as well. She holds Devin's hand while calling him "daddy" in the sweetest tone ever. Instead of demanding answers from Stacy, I turn around and head home. There, I dig out the divorce agreement that I've already prepared in advance.

On the day my body gets blasted into pieces, Amanda Stone, my wife and a police captain, is busy riding the merry-go-round with her childhood sweetheart, Mark Horton, and his son, Keith Horton. Three days later, she finally remembers our son, Evan Johnson, and me. "It's been three days! Is he still mad that I used him and Evan to exchange for Mark and Keith? He's even trying to get the entire police squad to play along with this fake disappearing act of his, huh?" "Captain Stone, Caleb has died in the line of duty. Evan was also injur—" "That's impossible! What I did was only a temporary measure. I set up three layers of defense. There was no way anything would've happened to Evan or him!" Lara Chase, Amanda's colleague, turns away. She can no longer bear to look at Amanda. "Mark did it. He lied about the situation and used your authorization to move everyone away. We've already identified the kidnappers. They're the remnants of MW Syndicate. This was all part of their attempt to get revenge against you. "We also found out that, when you were trapped at the border three years ago, it was Caleb who led the rescue attempt and risked his life to bring you to safety, not Mark's deceased wife…"

"The property management fee this month comes to 1,500 dollars. Please make the payment whenever you're free." I notice my husband's phone screen lighting up on the dining table. After glancing at it, I grabbed it immediately. "The management must have gotten it wrong. Our apartment's fee is 28 dollars per month." That's when Liam Moore shoots up to his feet and reaches out to snatch his phone back. "Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong. I'll text the person in charge and explain everything to him." But I've already tapped into the link, which shows me the details of the property that's being charged. It's Cloudridge Villa, and the property deed owner is… Matilda Shaw. The young housekeeper who's currently cooking in the kitchen is also Matilda Shaw. My mind buzzes loudly instantly. While the three of us have to make do with a tiny, rundown replacement housing that's provided by the government, Liam, my own husband, has actually bought a villa for Matilda.