Montgomery Burns Smithers

Sienna Calder swore she’d never touch her father’s world—Dorian Ashford, shipping mogul and billionaire king, left her mom to rot while he built his empire. She’s there to curse his grave when he dies, not to claim a dime. But his will traps her, naming her co-heir to his $50 billion legacy alongside Roman Valtieri, the brooding, hard-edged protégé who’s clawed his way into Dorian’s shadow—and now into hers. They’re to run the empire together or lose it all, and Sienna hates him for it: too slick, too close, every look a spark she doesn’t want. Then a letter from Dorian’s cold hand ignites the fire—he was murdered, and Roman’s name’s scratched beside the truth. A silver key and a vial of blood—hers, his—drag her deeper, promising answers locked in Ashford estate.But the walls crash in fast: Ezra Locke, a scarred snake with a grin like a blade, wants that key, and he’ll drown the place to get it. Roman’s her lifeline—gun drawn, hands steady, pulling her from the flood—and she loathes how his touch burns, how his voice steadies her when the water’s at her throat. Caught between rage and a pull she can’t name, Sienna fights the heat growing with every near miss—Roman’s too damn solid, too damn close, and she’s torn between shoving him away and pulling him in. The empire’s crumbling, the cliff’s falling, and Ezra’s not the only shadow circling—something darker watches, waiting. Love’s a gamble when blood’s the stake, and Sienna’s playing with a deck her father rigged. Can she trust Roman’s hands to hold her up, or will the crown they’re fighting for crush them both in its ashes?

The day I win a brand-new BMW, I suddenly receive a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Kieran will ask to borrow your car in a bit. And whatever you do, do not lend it to him. He intends to use it to pay off his gambling debt." Even with such an impossibility happening to me, I do not doubt a thing. When Kieran asks for my keys, I shut him down at once. That very night, he drives his old beater car to visit our parents. Along the way, he loses control of the car and collides with another vehicle. Just like that, he slips into a coma. The guilt hit me so hard that I eventually pass out. Mom and Dad stay by my side day and night until I can stand on my own two feet again. But the future version of me sounds cold when she calls again. "They only want to push you onto an operating table. They want your heart to save him!" Growing suspicious, I check their bags and find a donor report. Rage burns through me. I immediately block them on all platforms and throw them out of my home. When news that Kieran dies from blood loss arrives, I learn that they only ever needed my blood—not my heart. I try to find them to tell them the truth and apologize for my mistake. But the mysterious phone rings again. "They hate you because Kieran died. If you go to them now, they will drag you into a suicide pact." I freeze at the revelation, then tell my future myself that I will wait until they calm down. Later, I learn that a thief breaks into their home and kills them. I try to rush over and see them one last time, but a truck hits me and kills me on the spot. I die without ever understanding why the version of me from ten years in the future wanted me dead. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I won the prize.

NINA “My wife will ride you for her org-sm and for your come to fill her, so she can do her duty as Mrs. Sokolov.” Jeremiah’s fingers flexed around my throat. “Go on, little wh-re. Climb over him. I know you want to.”   I crawled over Lachlan, curling my fingers around his thick c-ck, and wondered — how big was Jeremiah? How long? How thick? Lachlan hissed, “Kitten, stop playing or I’ll come all over your hand.”   Jeremiah growled, “We can’t have that. All his come belongs in your c-nt, wife. So get on with it.” His lips brushed my ear. “Don’t stretch this out. I have something else that needs stretching.” Shuddering, I got to my knees. As I aligned Lachlan’s c-ck with my entrance, another hand wrapped around mine — larger, slick with oil. Jeremiah.   A moan escaped as my husband guided his lover’s c-ck to my core. I sank down slowly, the stretch burning until I took every inch. “F-ck,” Lachlan groaned. “You’re perfect around me.” “You too,” I moaned, pressed against his chest, lips tangled in a kiss.   Then, without warning, Jeremiah pushed in two fingers — into my other h-le.   I gasped as he stretched my untouched muscles. He didn’t stop. Not until I was full. Everywhere.   Lachlan groaned. “I can feel you.”   “I know,” Jeremiah said, his fingers thrusting deep. “Move.” Lachlan obeyed, lifting me until just his tip stretched me, then pushed me back down. I whimpered. My hips jerked. Lachlan cursed.   “You like that, wife?” Jeremiah’s voice rasped in my ear. “Being used by both of us?”   _ This is a twisted, dark MMF mafia romance where love is savage, hate burns deep, and survival comes at a deadly cost. Read-TW!!!! MF-MM-MFM-Dark-Twisted-Betrayal-Amnesia-Revenge-NonCon-Mafia-Humiliation-Dominated-Controlling-Ruthless-Mystery-Thriller-READ-Trigger-Warnings