Pablo Escobar Mug Photo Novels & Stories

Alpha Caleb watched as his mate, Luca, was killed in a rogue attack. He never thought he’d feel anything again—until he met him. Padre Leonardo is not just a priest—he’s young, handsome, and hot. When they meet at Luca’s funeral, something deep stirs between them. Their mate bond awakens, wild and real. They try to ignore it. But one drunken night of raw and forbidden passion changes everything. By morning, Leonardo realizes who he is, he’s ashamed and promises never to see Caleb again. Caleb sinks with despair but manages to tell himself to move on. Weeks later, fate brings Leonardo back—this time, as Caleb’s new professor. The bond is still there. Hotter. Heavier. But now they must pretend. They must hide. Their bodies find each other again, over and over—on desks, in basements, behind church doors. Each touch is hotter than the last. Every kiss tastes like sin. But Caleb wants more. He wants love. He wants forever. Then, the danger begins. Two gay wolves are caught and punished. A strict law is passed. Caleb’s jealous classmate moves into his room. Leonardo falls sick—but hides the truth. He is dying. The only thing that can save him is the very thing they are not allowed to have. Caleb finds out everything. He moves in with Leonardo, swearing to save him. The more they hide, the more they fall. But someone is watching. A blurry photo is leaked. A kiss, a hand, a whisper. Leonardo is exposed. The Alpha is furious. And now Caleb must choose. Will he give up his title to save the man he loves? Or will he lose Leonardo forever—this time, not to death, but to shame, law, and a secret that’s no longer theirs to protect?

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

_"You can't hide from your past forever, Susan."_ That’s what my stepmother, Jessica, sneered at me six years ago before sending me off with nothing but a fake ticket to America and a shattered heart. I had always been the perfect daughter, but one scandalous photo ruined everything. Betrayed by my own family, abandoned by the man I loved, I was left with nothing but a broken heart and a daughter to protect. Now, I’m back, and I’m not the same naive girl they tried to destroy. I’ve fought my way to the top, and I’m ready to reclaim what’s mine. _"You’re the one with everything to lose, Jessica. Let’s see how you handle it."_ With my daughter by my side and secrets in my arsenal, I’m ready to face the family that betrayed me. But when Ryan, a man with his own dark past, steps into my life, things get even more complicated. He’s powerful, infuriatingly arrogant, and claims to be the father of my child. _"You think you can just walk back into my life and call the shots, Ryan? Think again."_ This isn’t just about revenge anymore. It’s about survival, about protecting my daughter. _"This time, I’m playing by my own rules."_ But with enemies closing in and the stakes higher than ever, I’ll need more than just determination to win. I’ll need to decide who I can trust—and whether my heart is ready to take the ultimate risk. _"Are you with me, or against me, Ryan?"_ This is my story, and it’s time to take back what was stolen from me. But in the world of power and betrayal, nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

My wife Susan had the power to save lives, but when our son was rushed to the ICU and needed her help, she refused no matter how much I begged. While I was crying myself hoarse when I received news that our son was dead, I heard her purring over the phone, "Mark? Don't worry, your puppy's way more important. Of course I'll save it." There was a limit to her power that she could only use it once a month, but she nonchalantly used it for Mark's pet dog! Shaking with rage, I seized her by the collar and bellowed, "We're talking about a human life here, and your son at that! But an animal is worth more than that?!" Susan shook me off, smirking in disdain. "Mark has always been by himself—is there a problem that I took his side? And what could happen to our son when he has his daddy? Stop giving me that attitude!" Just two hours later, Mark posted on social media a photo of him with Susan kissing his pet dog together, with the smug caption: [Who had bet that a son matters more than a dog? Know when you're beaten. Now pay up!] So he had a bet with someone that Susan would choose his dog! Worst of all, Susan lovingly replied: [If Mark wants to win, I'll always be there for him.] Even as I felt heartrending pain, I was laughing coldly as I sent my own reply. [If you all love to bet so much, why not bet when you're gonna drop dead?]

As soon as I come of age, I become the secret lover of Luciano Carlotta, the future Don of his family. The reason why I choose to be with him isn't to covet his money—it's because I love him. To me, he's my savior who has rescued me from my sad, tragic life as an orphan. He even tells me lovingly that it's not my fault that my parents don't want me, and that he will be the one loving me from now on. So, when Luciano wants me to give birth to his child, I say yes. But once the baby is born, I'm only allowed to visit him once per month. Luciano explains, "I'm the future Don, Rosanna. My family wants me to marry a woman of a similar background and social standing. They still find it difficult to accept you at the moment. I have to keep their opinions of you in mind. "Just wait for a little longer. Once I conquer the final turf and become the Don, I'll definitely marry you. Our son shall become my heir. Staying in the Carlotta family is the best option for him, you know." Naturally, I believe Luciano's excuses. On sleepless nights, I just stare at photos of him and our son as I shed tears quietly. One day, I receive great news from my best friend, Sofia Rossi. Apparently, she's about to get married. "Rosanna, I'm getting engaged! My fiance is very handsome, and he loves me with all his heart, too! You must attend my wedding when the time comes!" As I congratulate her, I tap on the photo that she's just sent me. But I find myself staring at Luciano's face instead.

Cole McKnight is a disciplined, bodyguard hired by Senator Richard Irwin to protect his 23 years oldson, Ashton, after he begins receiving threats. Cole's impression of Ashton just another rich kid living off his father's money. But small moments reveal Ashton's depth and intelligence, Cole finds his professional mask slipping. When Cole is forced to move into Ashton's house for round-the-clock protection, the tension becomes unbearable. Charged conversations and stolen moments build a connection neither can deny. Cole is terrified not just of his job, but of the senator's power and what he could do to destroy Cole if he discovered his bodyguard had crossed the line. Everything changes when Marcus, Cole's contact and trusted ally, reveals the truth: the threats aren't random. Senator Irwin is involved in campaign finance fraud, embezzlement, and money laundering at the highest levels. The threats are leverage a way to keep him compliant. And Ashton is the point. Cole and Ashton flee to a safe house, their forced proximity finally breaking Cole's resolve. They become intimate, but the moment is shattered by armed attackers. Cole kills the intruders, but one injures Ashton before Cole takes him down. They ran to safe house not knowing it's compromised from the inside. The betrayal becomes clear in the final chapter: Marcus, the man Cole has trusted for years, has been working for the criminal the whole time He orchestrated every every plan, every moment of danger. When Marcus sends Ashton a photo of his father beaten in an industrial warehouse, he demands Cole bring Ashton to him—alone—or he dies. Cole's is No longer a bodyguard bound by professional ethics, he's a warrior. With Ashton's hand in his and backup secretly in place, he walks toward the warehouse, toward Marcus, toward a confrontation that will determine whether they survive

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was burn every photo of Vincent Corleone and me. Then I threw his engagement ring into the fireplace and deleted every voicemail where he swore I was the only woman he would ever love. Because in my last life, that love turned me into a joke. Vincent said he loved me, but after I gave up my place at a world-class institute for him, he took Lilian White to Europe instead. She was the orphan he felt guilty for. The fragile girl he said needed protection. I was Isabella Rossi, heiress to the Rossi crime family. So I was supposed to be strong. Strong enough to smile when he missed my birthday for her. Strong enough to stay quiet when she wore my mother’s necklace. Strong enough to survive the crash meant to kill me. For seven days, I lay in a hospital bed, conscious but unable to move, listening to him visit my room for two minutes before spending the rest of the day holding her hand. Before my heart stopped, I finally understood. Vincent would kill for me. But he would always choose her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back three months before I rejected the institute for him. This time, I did not cry. I did not ask him to choose. I accepted the offer, sold my assets, erased my name from his life, and waited for my birthday. The day Vincent planned to propose again was the day I disappeared. He could keep his guilt. He could keep his fragile little Lilian. I was done being the strong woman he never thought he had to save.

The day before the wedding, I go to the bridal shop to pick up my custom wedding dress. The clerk informs me apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone. Yesterday, a woman called Ms. Lovelett came and picked up your dress." My best friend, Sherry Lancelot, suddenly remembers something. "Isn't that the surname of your fiance's secretary? He's so thoughtful. He had your dress picked up in advance for you." But in the next second, Mary Lovelett posts a social media update. In her photo, she is wearing my one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress that is worth hundreds of millions and posing coquettishly in front of the camera. The caption reads, "Zachary is the best boss in the world. I casually said I wanted to take some portraits. He generously bought me a globally limited outfit for a photoshoot so that I can take the photos to my heart's desire!" I look at the post and reply coldly, "That's the wedding dress I personally chose for myself. Since when did it become your photoshoot outfit?" The post is deleted instantly. My fiance, Zachary Everdon, calls me angrily. "What nonsense comment was that? I just lent your stupid dress to Mary for a bit. It's a cheap, one-time thing anyway. I can buy you a dozen more to make up for it." I let out a cold laugh and record the call. Then, I send him a screenshot of the 200 million dollars purchase record. I say, "Sure. Will you pay by check or by direct transfer? Hurry up. Once you pay, we're calling off the engagement."

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

On our wedding anniversary, I canceled all my meetings and made a reservation at a restaurant. That evening, my wife, the renowned investigative journalist Amaya Shaw, called me. “Efim, I’m sorry! I just received a tip from a source. It’s urgent. “It involves inside information about a well-known company. I have to go verify it immediately!” But the next day, I saw that Javor Furey, the junior she had brought along, had posted a collage on his social media. The central photo showed Amaya wearing a childish birthday hat. Her head was pressed against Javor’s, as they made a wish together in front of a cake covered in candles. This was the caption. [Thanks, my dear Ms. Shaw! Even in the midst of her busy schedule chasing big stories, she remembered to give me this surprise birthday!] [Chasing big stories.] I stared at those three words. Then, I glanced at the limited-edition bag on our dining table. It was the one she had been raving about for half a year. It was the anniversary gift I had prepared for her. I felt absurd. I commented just two words under that post. [How touching.] Her call came in almost the second I hit send. She sounded furious. “Efim, do you have to be so sarcastic? “It’s just an anniversary. How old are you? Why are you still celebrating such childish anniversaries?” From our first year of marriage to the present, her “tip-offs from informants” and “special circumstances” always took precedence over our promises. This time, she could not even be bothered to come up with a plausible excuse. I did not say anything. I hung up and blocked her number. This marriage was over.