Roubada No Altar Pelo Chefe Da Máfia

Devon menyodorkan surat cerai tepat ke depan muka Rosa. Pria itu tak terlihat main-main. Pada akhirnya pernikahan yang mereka lalui tidak berhasil meskipun Rosa sudah mencoba sebisanya. Rosa menginginkan Devon. Sangat membutuhkan kekuasaan keluarga Wijaya yang berada di genggaman Devon. Dia tak bisa pergi, tak akan mau. Ketika Rosa tengah memutar otak untuk menunda perceraian ini, tiba-tiba saja petir menyambar Devon secepat kilat! "Ja-jangan mati!!!! Ambulans! Tolong, siapa saja panggil ambulans!" jerit Rosa dengan derai air mata bercucuran. Sementara itu, Devon bergeming di tempatnya. Asap-asap hitam mengepul keluar dari sekujur tubuh dan perickan listrik seperti melompat-lompat di atasnya. Namun bukan itu yang penting. Sebuah suara melengking yang pria itu kenal jelas, merasuki kepalanya dengan kurang ajar. Devon bisa mendengar suara isi pikiran Rosa tanpa sepengetahuan wanita itu. Dan darahnya dibuat mendidih. 'Siapa bilang laki-laki ganteng di dunia ini cuma Devon? Cuih! Manusia macam dia mending bertapa di gunung jadi biksu. Percuma dikasih istri secantik aku kalo matanya nggak dipake,' ujar Rosa dalam hati. Gigi Devon bergemeletuk menahan amarah. "ROSA!!"

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—one contract, one wedding, one payday. But Judah asks too many questions. Looks at her too long. And when he smirks and says— "Tell me, Fedora… how does it feel to say ‘I do’ and not mean it?" For the first time in years, she has no answer. Because this was never supposed to feel real.

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

Two years after we marry, my husband moves his sister and her family into our marital home. The four of them settle down and refuse to leave. So, I quit both my jobs. I laze around at home all day and splurge on various things. I have so many parcels delivered that they pile up by the door. Occasionally, I ask my husband and his sister for allowance. When the management office sends someone to chase for our maintenance fee, my husband breaks down so loudly that everyone in the building can hear him. He asks me whether I've lost my mind—who will support the family if I don't work? How will we survive without money? Am I going to allow our family to starve? So, it turns out he does know that we'll starve without anyone generating income. Why does he and his sister stay at home and plot to take away all my money, then?

On my wedding day, my mafia fiancé, Ryder Conti, had his men bar me from the church. Instead, he walked down the aisle with another woman on his arm. He shrugged at me through the iron gates. "Emilia, the Contis need an heir, and Carmela is carrying a Rossi." "Once I use the Rossi influence to solidify my position in the Family, I'll divorce her. You'll still be my woman." Everyone thought I would obediently nod and wait for him to come back. For ten years, I had loved him more than life itself, even cutting ties with my family for him. That very night, I boarded a private jet to Sicily to accept an arranged marriage with the Godfather of the Vettori family. From then on, I vanished without a trace from Ryder Conti's world. Three years later, I returned to New York with my husband and child to deal with a traitor in the Family. Zayn had some last minute business, so he sent his men to collect me. I never expected to see a face from my past. Ryder looked at me with a smirk. "Had enough fun out there? Since you've come crawling back, this is perfect. Carmela's son needs a cook. You can do the job." Wait, he just called me, the most respected Donna in the underworld, the cook?

For three years, I played the role of a dutiful wife to my husband, Williams, until I found out I was just a mere substitute for his first love— the woman he truly loved.  When she returned, he threw divorce papers at me as if I meant nothing.  And when I refused to sign them, I was forced to donate my blood to his precious mistress, causing me to lose a child I never even knew I was carrying. Shattered and broken, I walked away with one purpose— avenging the death of my unborn child.  He realised his mistake, but it was too late. I was no longer his substitute, but a future he'll never touch.  “You were right, Williams. I was a substitute you never deserved.” 

⚠️⛔ Explicit 18+ Content | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised. ***** “Room for one more?” Thorne murmured, his voice dark with hunger. He stroked his pierced cock, lining up carefully beside the bases. My heart pounded, my hole already maxed, but the omega in me craved more stretch. He pushed slowly, the head forcing past the ring alongside the knots, my walls screaming as they parted further. I cried out, my back arching, tears blurring my vision. The burn twisted sharply, pleasure exploding through it as Thorne sank inch by inch, his length rubbing the knots inside. Three cocks now, locked and throbbing, filling me beyond reason. Slick gushed forcefully, easing the impossible fit, my rim pulled so thin it fluttered visible. “Fuck, he's taking us all,” Aurelius groaned, his knot twitching hard. ~~~~~ In this explosive, infuriatingly hot Gay erotica compilation, filthy boys and dangerously hungry men chase the very thing they shouldn’t crave. They have high voltage desires to have their tight cracks shed apart, rimmed with sizes they never imagined exist and their girths straining, covered with slick. Glance through the pages in the most hidden corner of the world where no one would see you squirming. If you’re reading with a partner, fair warning: you’ll either test their patience or weaponize their hands. Women will be left breathless. Men will become needier than they expected. BUT DON’T BLAME ME IF YOU CAN’T STOP FLIPPING THE PAGES. ⚠️🔞‼️

Quando eu estava sendo despedaçada viva, usei minhas últimas forças para ligar para o meu irmão. No instante em que minha consciência quase se apagava, ele atendeu o telefone, mas sua voz estava cheia de impaciência: — De novo? O que foi agora? — Mano… me salva… Antes que eu terminasse a frase, ele me interrompeu friamente: — Você arranja problema todo dia? No fim do mês é a festa de formatura da Marina. Se você não aparecer, eu mesmo te mato! E desligou sem hesitar. A dor me consumiu até eu fechar os olhos para sempre. As lágrimas ainda escorriam pelo canto do meu rosto. Mano, você não precisa me matar. Eu já estou morta.

Eu estava no meio de uma conferência internacional quando o telefone da Helena tocou. Do outro lado da linha, ela chorava: — Mana, roubaram a minha vaga de intercâmbio... Fui direto para a escola. Encontrei minha irmã encurralada no canto do gabinete, com os olhos cheios de lágrimas. Uma garota de cabelo rosa, maquiagem carregada, apontava o dedo para ela com arrogância: — Vai competir comigo? Eu sou filha da Família Almeida de São Paulo! Meu pai acabou de doar um prédio inteiro de laboratórios para a escola! Quem é você na fila do pão? Até o professor Ricardo entrou na conversa: — Clara, a Cecília é filha da Família Almeida. Seja sensata e não traga problemas para todos nós. Eu já ia retrucar, mas o título "filha da Família Almeida" me fez parar. Família Almeida de São Paulo? Desde quando meu pai tinha outra filha além de mim e da Helena? Na hora liguei para ele e falei, com sorriso frio: — Pai, desde quando você tem outra filha fora do casamento?