Mia Ethnicity Novels & Stories

The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark. My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love. "Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon." Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him. Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain. But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back. The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers." And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money. He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir. Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop. He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice. "My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright." The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

On the fifth year of our hidden marriage, I died on the operating table of a hospital belonging to Allen Jones. Before I died, I called him ninety-nine times, begging for help. The last time, he finally answered. His voice was heavy with impatience. "Enough already. First, it's pregnancy, now it's liver cancer. Can you stop making a scene? I'm exhausted from work. "Mia, when did you learn to lie? Do you know how disgusting you are right now? "I'm warning you—if you keep this up, I'll divorce you. Don't even think about coming back home until you admit you're wrong." But this time, I could never go back. Just before the call ended, I heard him comforting Sadie with a gentleness he had never shown me. "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be over soon, and you'll be fine. Once you're out, I'll take you to see your favorite movie and eat at your favorite restaurant. I promised you, and I'll make it all come true." After he hung up, I called him for the hundredth time. He didn't answer. Later, when Allen saw my body on the operating table, he broke down completely.

She came to kill him. He was supposed to be her enemy. But the bond they built on lies might be the only real thing either of them has ever had. Zara Merrick has one mission: seduce the Alpha who murdered her sister, earn his trust, and drive a silver blade through his heart. She endures an agonizing ritual that rewires her very biology — altering her scent, implanting false recognition signals, creating an artificial mate bond designed to make the most powerful Alpha in the region believe she is his fated one. She walks into his territory like a weapon wearing a woman's face, and it works perfectly. Ryker Bloodmoon falls for it completely. Or so she thinks. Because Ryker has secrets too — secrets about the night Mia Merrick died, about what her sister really was, and about the truth The Covenant has been hiding from Zara for five years. And when his Beta runs her blood and the lie unravels, Ryker doesn't kill her. He keeps her. Now Zara is a prisoner in the fortress she came to destroy, hunted by the organization that sent her, and haunted by the possibility that everything she believed about her sister — about werewolves, about the war she dedicated her life to — was a carefully constructed lie. Worse, the fake mate bond is dissolving. And what's replacing it feels terrifyingly real.

"Are you okay, did I hurt you?" he whispers, gently running his thumb on my flushed cheek. His eyes are so tender and the way they stare down at me, makes my heart swell with immense joy. I can't believe I just did it, and it was amazing. "No" I shake my head leaning into his touch. Fuck! I love him so much. I want this man to myself all days of my life. "Thank you for trusting me, baby. I..I...i" he quickly looks away when he couldn't complete his sentence, and I know why. "You don't have to tell me anything" I whisper pulling his head to my lips. "It doesn't matter to me, Rico. You are all I want, with your every flaw and the darkness that surrounds you" "But you deserve so much better sweetheart, you deserve the world" "Then be my world. I don't want to exist in a place you aren't " I sincerely murmur and it silences him. For the first time since I met rico, his eyes hold a different emotion other than the obvious ones. Determination. They are both lonely with troubling pasts, they both have walls built up so high and won't allow anyone to notice the pain behind their eyes. Can Mia Vulcan and Rico Moreno help each other overcome the demons hunting them? Find out.

Married for five years, I'm known as the woman with the perfect husband. Alexander Foster is tall, strong, endlessly passionate, and people love to joke that we can't keep our hands off each other. Then he goes on a mission one day and never returns. I fall apart. I try to end my life six times, and six times someone drags me back. On the night of the sixth attempt, I overhear my mother-in-law, Anna Greyson, whispering to the man everyone believes is Alexander's younger brother, Daniel Foster. "Alexander, how long are you going to keep hiding this? Mia has tried to kill herself six times because of you." Alexander's voice stays calm. "Mom, before Daniel died, he asked me to take care of Lily. She's fragile, and now she's pregnant with my child. If she learns the truth, she won't survive it." And that's when the truth hits me. My husband isn't dead at all. He's been pretending to be his own younger brother and plans to have a child with Lily Harper under that lie. After crying until I can barely stand, I contact Margaret Warren at the matchmaking agency. "About that blind date you mentioned. I'll take it. And I want the wedding as soon as possible."

To protect his biological child, the mafia Don deliberately announces to the world that my fiance is his long-lost son. A Rolls-Royce pulls up outside my house. My fiance stares at his custom-tailored suit, his entire body trembling with excitement. I'm about to tell him it's all a lie when he shoves me aside and brushes off his sleeves with disgust, like he's touching something filthy. "Stay away from me. I can smell the poverty on you from here!" "Since I'm the Don's son, our engagement is over. An unwanted nobody like you isn't even fit to lick my boots." I try to explain, but he pulls out a check and slams it against my face—the sharp paper edge slices across my cheek. "Here's a million dollars. Consider it a breakup fee, and don't bother me again. We're not from the same world anymore." Watching the check flutter down into the mud, I quietly dim my phone screen. On it is a text from my father, the mafia Don. "Mia cara figlia, bear with it a little longer. Papa will bring you home soon to take over the family." Since he wants to burn every bridge between us, fine. He can have all this fortune on a silver platter. Whether he'll live long enough to enjoy it is another question entirely.

I died with my husband's betrayal on my lips and my unborn child in my womb. One moment I was Mia Weston — billionaire, wife, mother-to-be. The next, I was gone. Erased. Traded like a chess piece by the man who swore to love me forever. Then I woke up. Silk sheets. Marble walls. A maid calling me "My Lady." And a father I had never met looking me dead in the eyes saying — "You have been promised to King Zyren of the Draconis Throne. You leave at sunrise." I thought I was dreaming. I was wrong. King Zyren is not a man. He is ancient, ruthless, and devastatingly beautiful in the way that only dangerous things are. He doesn't smile. He doesn't explain. He simply looks at me like I am something he has been waiting for — and that look alone makes my whole body tremble. He calls me his traded bride. I call him my nightmare. But nightmares don't look at you like you are the only breathable air in a burning room. Nightmares don't press you against cold stone walls and whisper "You will learn your place, little human" with a voice so deep it rewrites your bones. And nightmares definitely don't make you forget — even for one dangerous, breathless second — the man who killed you. I was sold to settle a debt. He had waited centuries for exactly me. Neither of us was prepared for what came next.

That night was supposed to belong to Mia. She had spent a month practicing for her first piano recital. I had cooked all afternoon, set the table, and helped her into the pale blue dress Luca loved. She stood beside the piano, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling with excitement. Then Luca's phone rang. Vivienne was spiraling again. After Luca's older brother died, his widow never really came back from it. On her worst nights, she forgot the difference between the dead husband she had lost and the brother-in-law who kept showing up to save her. And Luca always showed up. Every time Vivienne broke, he left us behind. Every time he came home, he brought apologies, pretty gifts, and promises for next time. And every time, I believed him. Until that night. Before he could make another excuse, I placed the divorce papers in front of him. He signed without reading them, then touched my shoulder like he was the one being generous. "When this is over, I'll make it up to you," he said. "You, me, and Mia. The Maldives. No calls. No interruptions." Then he kissed our daughter's hair and walked out before she played a single note. What Luca didn't know was that Mia's passport was already packed. So was the little suitcase under her bed. I was done waiting for a man who only loved us when no one else needed him. This time, he could come home to an empty house.

When I was 18 years old, I stepped between Eric Ludlow and a silver arrow loosed by another contender so I could help him win the Alpha Trials. The silver sank deep into my wolf. Ever since then, I've lived as a broken werewolf without a mind-link and unable to conceive. Drowning in guilt, Eric decided to mark me. He pulled me close and vowed, "I'll love you for the rest of my life, Evelyn. I'll never see you as less." I really did believe him back then. At 25, he wins the pack war again and emerges as the strongest Alpha. But he turns our mate bond into a joke. At the celebration dinner, during a thoughtless game of Truth or Dare with his secretary, Mia Sadler, he speaks across the mind-link to everyone. "Evelyn, you're painfully dull. You're not the least bit appealing, your scent is thin, and you can't even bear a pup. You're just dead weight. I wish you'd never been saved back then. I wish you'd died." I clutch the medical report that says my wolf is about to be gone for good, staying silent. He assumes I can't hear anything since I don't have a mind-link. I beg the pack healer for a brutal, life-draining potion, just to know what a mate bond with him feels like. It's fine. I'll be dead soon, just the way Eric wants.