Never After

Cheyenne Morris hadn't planned on coming back home after her first year in college. Her parents however had different plans after she partied a little too hard her freshman year. Once home Cheyenne soon grew bored of the small-town life and looked for anything she could use as a distraction. That's when Nick Griffin walked into her kitchen giving her the perfect target. She was half his age, he was her dad's best friend and business partner, he was perfect. Nick Griffin didn't know that the day he walked into the Morris's kitchen he had walked into a trap. He had been caught off guard by Cheyenne's sudden interest in him and by the time he realized her intentions it was too late. He tried to deter her but soon found himself unable to resist her. She had convinced him there was no harm in having a little fun. No one had to ever know. It was all fun and games until love got involved.

It's often said "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be." When you lose someone, sometimes they will find their way back to you. They'll find their way back into your life because maybe they have something else to teach you. Maybe they'll come back into your life at a time where they felt you need them the most. When they do, though, you will both no longer be the same people you once were. You won't understand each other in the same way. But, if they do find their way back, allow yourself to understand how beautiful your new bond with them could be and the new memories that can be made.

18 years is a long time to search for someone who went missing but the Russo family never gave up on their Principessa and they never will. Luna is eighteen but her life has been anything but rainbows and sunshine, the complete opposite in fact she's known nothing but darkness and pain. She knows nothing of the outside world and that there are people out there searching high and low for her and these people are her real family. Can she be rescued and if she is can she lead a normal life after her past trauma? Join Luna on a ride facing I life she never knew.

When Alex loves, she loves hard. So much so that she loses and depletes herself. She's madly in love with newly drafted football star Ezra, who loves her but won't tell that to the world. So she stays through the chaos because of "love", but soon the chaos becomes too much to bear and that has her going downhill. ------- NB: This book will take you on an emotional rollercoaster, maybe even have you really upset with the protagonist. But please be patient with her. She'll get it soon enough.

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.

I was the person Henry Johnson, the head of the San Nello mafia, loved more than anyone else. He loved me with absolute devotion. During our three years of marriage, he spoiled me endlessly and treated me like a princess. Yet this same man, who claimed to love me so deeply, divorced me three times, each time for the sake of his childhood sweetheart. The first time, intimate photos of them at the airport went viral. That very night, he placed the divorce papers in front of me. "Selena," he said, "Melanie's father once saved my life. I can't allow her to be condemned as a homewrecker. Let's divorce for now. Once this storm passes, we'll remarry." With my heart in pieces, I signed the papers and prepared to leave. However, at the airport, Henry stopped me. He broke down in front of me and begged, "I've already taken care of the media. Melanie has gone abroad again. I've repaid everything I owed her family. Please don't leave. Let's get married again." His tearful pleas softened my resolve. That was the first time I forgave him. The second time, he came to me looking utterly worn out. "Melanie was implicated by her boyfriend and ended up in prison," he said. "I need to bail her out as her spouse. Once she's free, we'll remarry right away." I believed him. That time, he kept his promise. He returned and remarried me. The third time, he lowered his head and hesitated, unable to look me in the eye. "Melanie is about to give birth," he said. "An unwed pregnancy would destroy her modeling career. I have to help her. This will be the last time. Once the child is settled, we'll remarry. I promise this will never happen again." I looked at him for a long time. In the end, I answered softly, "Okay." However, on the day we were meant to register our marriage again, I never appeared. Any love I still had was worn away bit by bit. In the end, I left for good, taking with me not only a broken heart, but also the unborn heir he would never know.

In my last international car racing championship, the front tire of my car suddenly burst, causing the car to roll over. The cars behind me collided with me one by one. After 99 times, I was unrecognizable from the impacts. Just as I reached out to my boyfriend for help by instinct, he kicked me away, my body covered in blood and flesh. “Don't dirty my newly tailored clothes today.” He turned around, picked up the champion who had just crossed the finish line, and spun her around, smiling and saying: “Sharon, only the championship trophy is worthy of you. I will remove all obstacles for you.” Blood stained my entire body. Watching the two of them embrace as the sun set, I felt numb and desperate. What he didn't know was that among these red stains was the child who had just come into this world. At that moment, I gave up on continuing to love him.

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.

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.