Private Story Names Offensive

After my parents were killed in a territory war, I was taken in by Don Moretti, head of New York's most powerful crime family. I was the only civilian in a world of made men. For twenty years, I was raised alongside his twin heirs, Marco and Santino. Their protection and favor made me the envy of every aspiring mob wife in the city. But when I was finally ready to become a real part of the family, they both turned me down. Marco said, "I need to focus on expanding our territory first. I'm not ready for this kind of commitment." Santino said, "An outsider can't be trusted with family secrets." The next night, at my birthday celebration, they both proposed to the daughter of a low-level enforcer. To prove their loyalty to her, they let her force me to drink "The Don's Fire"—a 150-proof grappa laced with ghost peppers that would hospitalize anyone who wasn't raised on it since childhood. Broken in body and spirit, I made a call from my hospital bed. "I accept the proposal from the Luciano Syndicate."

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

Maya Rivers never thought desperation would lead her back into the arms of the man who once shattered her. To save her sister’s life, she agrees to become a surrogate through a private, anonymous agency—no names, no attachments, no complications. But when the intended father is revealed, her world comes crashing down. The baby’s father is none other than Adrian Knight—her cold, ruthless ex-husband and the billionaire who accused her of betrayal, tore apart their marriage, and left her heart in ruins. Adrian wants an heir more than anything. What he didn’t expect was Maya—the only woman he ever loved and lost—carrying his child. Bound by legal contracts and unresolved emotions, he demands she move into his estate, forcing them into a tense, unwanted reunion under one roof. As Maya’s belly grows, so does the tangled web of secrets between them. Old wounds resurface, passion rekindles, and truths long buried begin to unravel: the betrayal that destroyed them was a lie, their divorce was never finalized, and this pregnancy is far from ordinary. Now, with their future—and their twins—hanging in the balance, Maya and Adrian must face the question neither dared to ask: Is love enough to heal what was broken, or will pride and pain tear them apart forever?

Soulmates. Everyone, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, would have the names of their soulmates appear on their left or right wrist in a light grey ink that turned red when you meet them. Should your soulmates die then their name would turn white. *** *** Luca stood staring down at the water below him as he stood on the thick cement railing of the bridge. Looking down at his wrists he traced the names Williams Roswell and Jedidiah Roswell, the names of his soulmates who he had yet to meet. “I’m sorry,” He sobbed. “I can’t do it anymore. You both will be better off without me, you don’t need me… I’m nothing…”. “Goodbye.” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a deep breath then jumped in.

Three years after Alpha King Damien Caldwell marks me, Drake Whitaker finally remembers I exist. Turns out he really believes I'll "wait for him forever." Twenty black SUVs clog the private road into Ridgefield pack territory, trunks crammed with moonstone jewelry, old talismans, and rare herbs. Drake steps out of the tricked-out Hummer, wearing a smug smile and clutching a stack of parchment contracts. "Aria," he calls up, like some medieval knight, "I told you once the Silvermoon Coalition was official and Kenneth's supply lines were stable, I'd bring you to my pack. "The High Council finalized five packs yesterday. I came first thing this morning to show you I mean it." I sit in the upstairs study, watching a video Damien just sent of him playing with our son, then glance through the blinds at the ridiculous scene unfolding below. Drake lifts his face toward the second floor. "I know you're upset, but Kenneth controls the biggest timber in the Eastvale region. I had to mark Isabella. It was politics. You get that. Feelings don't need a mark anyway. I'll treat you better than a Luna." His words made my skin crawl. I pressed the intercom button on the desk. "Clear the drive. Tell security someone's trespassing." What a day! I've just taken my son to the medical center for his one-month checkup. Damien sends me back to Ridgefield pack for a week to rest. Instead, I get this mess on my doorstep.

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."

Somebody has a dirty little secret. Determined to prove herself as a private investigator and catch a cheater, Cassie Woods discovers more than she bargained for, when the unveiling of a devastating secret initiates the emergence of an unwanted gift.Nothing is ever simple.Her personal life is chaos.Her professional life is a mine field.Her hormones are raging out of control.It's going to be an awe-inspiring lesson in self-restraint. This story contains sexually explicit language, profanity, and violence and is not suitable for readers under 18.Third Eye P.I. is created by RavennaYoung, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

A mission was given to her, Can she do her mission? How to love her in her mission, Will she avoid or let her heart pound her heart on a 'mission'. – This is my first cross-genre and it's not a fantasy genre, because it's different from what I've written. It's not like you read to others writer, 'beautiful story', I'm not perfect. 'The manifestation of Truth is a mystery of Love, just as, conversely, the content of Love is a mystery of Truth.' Copyright 2016 © Xyrielle All Rights Reserved No Copy Stories No Plagiarism This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.