Physical Attack

During a turf war, I took a bullet for Daniel Wilson. When I woke up in the family hospital after three years in a coma, I discovered that Eva, the showgirl I'd saved from a black market auction, had usurped my place in the Wilson family. My husband Daniel, the family's Underboss, saw that I was awake, and his first words to me were: "The entire underworld recognizes Eva as the woman by my side now. Why did you have to wake up at a time like this?" "Alice and I both love her. She's the one who's been by our side these past three years. And you? You've just been a body in a hospital bed, absent from our lives." "We're through, Sarah." Watching the man I once loved so deeply speak such heartless words, I didn't put up a fight. I simply nodded and gave him what he wanted. But he had no idea the Wilson family was about to burn to the ground.

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

Three years ago, Lucas’ mother paid me ten million dollars to play his fated mate with the help of a potion. Lucas believed I was hopelessly in love with him. What he didn’t know was that I was nothing more than a hired actress. By day, I stood at his side during training. By night, he paraded a she-wolf through the mansion. He once sneered, “Don’t delude yourself into thinking the mate bond can change me.” I only smiled, silently counting my money. “Funny, because I never planned on giving you my heart, either.” On the day the potion wore off, I walked away with the fortune, while he spiraled into madness. Three years later, I returned victorious as the youngest S-class strategy consultant. There he was, on his knees, murmuring, “I was wrong.” Little did Lucas know that his arrogance, handed out like charity, had carried a hefty price tag of ten million. Now, even if he lost everything, it still wouldn’t be enough to buy my forgiveness.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

I caught my fiancé, Nico Falcone, in bed with my own cousin, Bianca Rossi. Right before our wedding. When I confronted him, he just called the whole thing off and ran me out of New York. I didn’t see him again for five years. Then came the charity gala for the New York Families. There he was. Nico. He pulled me aside, saying he felt bad for the state I was in. He offered to make me his mistress. I told him to go to hell. He got ugly. The whole room was laughing. Whispering how an outcast like me had no business showing my face in New York. I clenched my fists, the sound of their mockery ringing in my ears. Just then, the entire ballroom went dead silent. Every head bowed in respect. Don Lucas, the most feared man in New York, was walking slowly toward us. He stopped right in front of me. With the whole room watching, he dropped to one knee. He took my hand—the one Nico had squeezed red—and kissed it. His voice was dangerously low. “Who hurt my future wife?”

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

On the night of my awakening, which was also my 18th birthday, my parents locked me in a silver cage in the basement while my foster sister Emma prepared for her ceremony upstairs. Then, the Blood Moon Eclipse struck, forcing every member of the pack to evacuate. Emma urged our parents to help. My heart warmed, and I thought they would come to save me. However, the only thing my father carried out was Emma’s stuffed wolf doll. They clutched Emma and fled for their lives, leaving me behind in the collapsing basement. When I crawled out of the ruins, they were already in the safehouse, celebrating Emma’s successful awakening as a White Wolf. Ten years later, I became the heir to Blackstone Consortium, controlling half of the werewolf world’s economy. When we met again, the former leader of the Silvermoon Pack knelt before me. “I've finally found you, my daughter.” My gaze was cold as I faced the stranger in front of me. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

At my own wedding, the groom switched—Malcolm Lowell bailed, and the best man stepped in. Lumi, the Irving's real daughter, latched onto Malcolm's arm and smirked from the crowd. "I was just feeling a little low," she said. "Didn't think Malcolm would go this far for me." Malcolm raised a brow. "I just wanted to make her happy. You took her spot for years. Time to pay it back. This is for your own good." That's when it hit me—this whole wedding was a setup, a twisted show just to entertain Lumi. All because I was the adopted one. I'd lived in her place for over two decades. I didn't cry. Didn't freak out. I just took the new groom's hand, faced the priest, and said, "Keep going."

After the war between humans and shifters, an alliance was formed to keep the peace. The price? Daughters of the human nobility had to choose a shifter as their mate. The first half-blood born from this union would become the new ruler, ensuring that peace would last. As the eldest daughter of the Morrison family, I was the first to be chosen. But right after I chose the wolf Alpha, Calvin, I saw a vision on our engagement day. Because I failed to conceive after six months, Calvin locked me in a cage, determined to use me as a vessel for his pure bloodline. After I finally gave birth to the prophesied hybrid, my sister, Trina, appeared, claiming she wanted to take care of me. But the truth was, she hated me for being able to bear the perfect bloodline, while her own mate, that beautiful Elven Chief, was making her life a living hell. Driven by jealousy, she seduced Calvin, and together, they had me brutally murdered. After my death, the world saw Trina as the new hope, as the one destined to bear the future ruler. Only one person fought for me: Caleb, the leader of the bear clan. He was the only one who demanded justice. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, and I snapped out of the vision. Before me, Trina begged me to give Calvin to her, revealing he had already marked her. I nodded. To everyone's shock, I walked past them all, my eyes fixed on the one person no one ever seemed to notice: Caleb, sitting in the corner. "Caleb Thorne, will you accept my proposal?"

Two years into my marriage with Don Dante, my ex came back. Julian, the man who shattered my heart five years ago. He announced he was getting engaged. And he wanted me as his mistress. "I know I hurt you," he said. "My family looks down on mob ties. It was never going to work. But now? I'm marrying Tiffany. I'm taking over the family empire. I can finally afford to keep you." I just sneered at him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be married?" He scoffed. "What decent family would have you? The daughter of a mob underboss? Don't be ridiculous." His arrogance made me sick. When I refused, he slapped a black card on the table. Told me to buy whatever I wanted. He said he'd pick me up next week. That we could spend every weekend tangled up in his bed. I spat on the floor at his feet. "Get him out," I told my guard. "And take his trash with him." He didn't get it. Not then. But he would. The moment he found out who I married. I didn't just marry anyone. I married the king of the Chicago underworld. A man he could never touch. And when he finally figured it out, he lost his goddamn mind.