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Everyone called Mia a shameless whore. However, the one trailing behind her was the youngest don of the Yorick family, James. He hand-washed her lace camisoles, broke three ribs for her, and even with his face covered in blood from a beating, he could still smile at her. One night, after too much drinking, the underboss he trusted most leaned down beside him. His face was full of disdain. “Boss, Mia is a disgrace to all of us! A woman like that, how could she ever be worthy of you?” James suddenly laughed. His eyes went terrifyingly blank. The cigar between his fingers glowed faintly in the dark. “Back then, before I secured my position, I was young, greedy for power. To get my sister-in-law that antique necklace she wanted, I took advantage of Mia being drunk and took pictures of her myself… “Ten dollars a copy. I sold thirty thousand of them. Things blew way out of control… I owe her.” James took a long drink of whiskey while his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thankfully… she will never know. I will spend my whole life making it up to her, treating her twice as well.” He did not see the private room door quietly close the moment he said those words. Mia turned around with a blank expression on her face and walked into a small clinic on the corner. She laid down on the operating table. He would never deserve to know that he had once been a father, if only for a moment. That whole lifetime he planned to spend making it up to her, she did not want it anymore.

The year the Rossi famiglia falls, my personal Underboss, Lorenzo Santoro, rises to power—becoming the Don and seizing control of the underworld. Once, I was the untouchable Principessa. He was the Soldato, ready to die for me at a moment's notice. For something as trivial as a paper cut on my finger, he would drop to his knees with red-rimmed eyes, blowing on it for half an hour. Now, to earn a smile from his new flame, Elena Marino, he forces me to sign a contract and makes me his live target. He watches with indifference as I am battered and bloodied under a hail of bullets. During a blast-resistance test, shattered glass slices the corner of my eye, but Lorenzo merely looks on. "The once-delicate Principessa Rossi can't even handle a little pain?" During attack-dog training, I am bitten to the bone, yet he shields a trembling Elena instead. "Animals don't know any better. Why are you holding a grudge against a dog?" Then comes the real kidnapping. To save Elena, who is desperate to become Donna, he personally cuts off my escape. "This is just a drill, Isabella," he scoffs. "Stop acting like it's real." On the surveillance monitors, flames engulf me as I take my final breath. A bloodstained termination contract is delivered to him. "Don Santoro, I return the life I owe you." Only then does the man who believes he rules the world finally lose his mind.

In the dark water dungeon, Leonard hung me up and tied me in a very humiliating position. "Do you know why you're punished today?" His eyebrows knitted together, his eyes filled with uncontainable disgust. I knew that his obsession with cleanliness had flared up again. Enduring the humiliation, I allowed him to whip me, just to atone for my sins and ask for his forgiveness. As the mate to the Alpha of Mooncrown Pack for the past five years, I was long used to such a thing. However, when I learned that he was going to sell me into becoming a sex slave after five years together simply because of a remark from his first love, Serina, I realized then that the humiliation he had inflicted on me over the past five years was entirely fabricated. Due to his promises, I believed he was my destined mate, endured his severe obsession with cleanliness, and forgave all the harm he had done to me. I thought I could win back his heart as long as I waited. It turned out that everything was a meticulously plotted attack. The pain severed me from my past; I could no longer tolerate or compromise, so I left. However, he frantically searched for me, begging me to be his Luna and desperately pleading for my forgiveness.

The day I dissolved the mate bond, I called my childhood friend to pick me up. I had a bank card with barely any balance left, my phone, and the same clothes I had worn the day I moved into this house. That was everything I owned after all those years living in the pack. My mate, Derek Anderson, called to say I had left a few things behind. "Forget it. Just throw them away." He seemed reluctant to give up. "Your son keeps saying he wants to see you." I dragged my suitcase behind me and walked away without looking back. "Tell him he'll have a new mom soon. The one he's always wanted." Like father, like son. They even fell for the same woman. In the past, I would have asked myself, 'Why won't they even look at me? I've given them so much.' Now, I felt nothing. If they didn't love me, then so be it. I would let them go and let myself go in the process too. My childhood best friend, Eric Keaton, helped me with my luggage and opened the door of his Maybach. I said one last thing to my mate. "I won't ever disturb you and your son again." After a long time, he found me. He grabbed my arm like a madman and stared at me in despair. "Leah Sullivan, why don't you care about us anymore?"

At my wedding, my wife’s bodyguard was wearing the same suit as me. He was standing to one side. When I was saying my vows, he suddenly stepped forward and slapped me. I covered my face and looked at my wife, Amelie. She looked calm, as if she knew this would happen. Seeing that she was not reacting, the bodyguard smirked and slapped me again. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. The guests below the stage were flabbergasted, even as rage burned within me. “Call the police!” “You can’t call the police!” Amelie finally said. My parents also suddenly shouted, “No one is allowed to call the police. Anyone who does would be opposing the Bennet family!”

Winona Warren never imagined that on her birthday, her son would hand her a walnut cake that could kill her. As her consciousness began to blur, she heard Asher Rhodes' furious voice. "Carter, don't you know your mother is allergic to walnuts?" Carter Rhodes' childish voice rang out with startling clarity. "I do. But I want Ella to be my mom instead. Dad, you want that too, don't you? Even if I..." A crushing wave of suffocation overwhelmed Winona before she could hear the rest of Asher's answer. In the second before she completely lost consciousness, Winona had only one thought. If she woke up, she would never be Asher's wife or Carter's mother again.

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.

I supported Ethan Mitchell and loved him for eight whole years. I thought I concealed my feelings well, but little did I know that after Ethan became a business magnate, the first thing he did was send me to a ladies’ finishing academy. He looked at me coldly, his arms wrapped around his fiancée. "When you've rid yourself of those filthy thoughts, then you can come out." A year later, I finally forgot him completely. However, Ethan came to regret everything.

Today happens to be Yvonne Ziegler's birthday. Yvonne is Shawn Jacobson's, my husband's, newly hired personal assistant. Shawn spares no expense in buying her a villa as a birthday present, and Yvonne haughtily takes to social media to show off on the day she moves in. "I'd like everyone to know that I'm married to a wealthy man now." Shawn comments on the post, saying, "Happy birthday, my beloved Yvonne!" In the picture, Shawn's hand rests intimately on Yvonne's slender waist, leaving no doubt about their intimate relationship. In that instant, the company's group chat erupts into a frenzy of notifications, as colleagues declare their envy of Yvonne and heap praise upon her for being young and accomplished. Oscar Jagger, my childhood friend, notices the picture and immediately tags me in the group chat. He then sends me a pointed, teasing message, saying, "Shawn's display of love is so glaring! Congrats on being cheated on, Leslie!" I manage a bitter, wry smile, taking my time to type out the response. "Do you need a villa as well, Oscar? I'm happy to give you a place—a much nicer one than Shawn's, of course."

I've failed to conceive despite being married for two years. Initially, I think it's because there's something wrong with me. I take various medications and undergo treatment. The night that I want to ask my husband, Sebastian Lockwood, to go for a check at the hospital, a voice appears in my mind. "He's not Sebastian! Sebastian's already been dead for three years!"