Shemale Mistress

"Gabriella, are you really going to fly abroad and leave Owen behind?" In the quiet cafe, Gabriella Candola puts down the spoon in her hand. She then looks at Anne Lockwood, her best friend, sitting across from her at the table, who wears a flabbergasted expression. In a casual tone, she replies, "We're already divorced." "Divorced?" Anne never expects to hear such shocking news coming from Gabriella's lips. As soon as the shock passes, she begins lamenting about the injustice on Gabriella's behalf. "And Owen actually agreed to the divorce? You treated him so well over the past three years! Even if his heart were made of ice, it'd have melted by now, right? Does he really not have any feelings for you?" Gabriella just smiles in return, a glint appearing in her eyes.

I use a full decade just to be able to stand by Claude Thorne's side as an equal. In the past, I used to be an outsider who was often ignored by others, but slowly, I've transformed into Claude's most trusted Beta as well as the future Luna. But I decide to leave Claude one month before the Luna coronation ceremony is set to begin. It's because Claude has personally placed the Luna crown, which is supposed to be mine, onto Victoria Grimm's head instead. "It's just a crown. Victoria doesn't have anyone left in this world. What's wrong with letting her wear it? You're the future Luna, so you must be more magnanimous." I never bothered crying or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I've secretly dissolved the mate bond between Claude and me. Just like that, I've graciously given away the position as Claude's mate to Victoria magnanimously, like the way Claude wants me to be. But he goes nuts instead. He tracks me all the way to the human society in an attempt to patch things up with me. But what he doesn't expect to see is Silas Wulfric, the legendary Alpha King, getting down on one knee in front of me. "Heather, since that blind fool is incapable of crowning you as his Luna, allow me to make you the Luna Queen."

I helped my wife, Kim Carey, rise from obscurity into stardom, only to discover that she was having an affair with a rising young actor who looked like me. When I asked for a divorce, she cried and begged me not to leave. In the end, I caved in. I gave her three chances. The first time, she stayed up all night to post a public statement clarifying all the rumors between her and Emmett Stone. She canceled all her work and stayed with me for an entire week. The second time, on my birthday, she publicly announced that Emmett was her soulmate. She even released intimate photos of the two of them. She buried herself in my arms and said righteously, "Emmett is depressed. I'm only doing this to comfort him. You're the only one in my heart. This is the last time. Please believe me." Then, she abandoned me in the wilderness, just because Emmett had suffered a minor injury on his hand. The final time, my father was critically ill and urgently needed a huge sum of money for surgery. She refused to even transfer a single cent to me. "All the money has been invested in Emmett's new drama," she said coldly. "Your father won't die that quickly." That night, my father missed the best window for treatment and died on the operating table. My heart was completely shattered. When Kim finally returned home late that night, I asked for a divorce once more.

I manage to drag Jared Sheppard from death's door. Since then, I've accompanied him from his poorest times all the way to the current moment, when he's now worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day his company goes public, he gets engaged to another woman. "Gabrielle, she's different from you. She's an actual princess of the elite. I need to give her an official title, so I can't fool around with you anymore." I never bothered defending myself. It's time for this farce to end, anyway. After all, there's still a man waiting for me at home, who's been calling me his princess since I was a little girl.

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

I saved my husband, Raffaello, the Don of the mafia, from the hands of a rival family. In return, he forced me to kneel before his childhood sweetheart, Sofia, and bark like a dog just to cheer her up. Our son, Lorenzo, wandered into the family's chemical plant out of childish curiosity, so I dragged him out with my own hands. Only for him to look me in the eye and said that I wasn't worthy of being his mother. What my husband didn't know was that when the assassins came for him, I had deliberately drew them away, letting them capture me instead. They had injected a virus into body, which burned my throat and destroyed my voice forever. What my son didn't know either was that inside the chemical plant where I rescued him, I had inhaled an overwhelming amount of toxic powder, which later caused me to have severe asthma. That night, when my asthma flared up and my lungs began to fail, I used what little strength I had left to call my husband. He impatiently rebuked me, "Grace, stop bothering me for once. A person who is really dying wouldn't make such a scene. Don't think that I don't know that you're just jealous, trying to compete with Sofia for my attention." I collapsed into the snow, greedily gasping for the final breath of air. Then, everything went still. Later, Raffaello, who never loved me lost his mind. He injected the same virus over and over again into his body, just to feel the pain I once endured. Lorenzo, who refused to acknowledge me, attempted suicide repeatedly, begging fate to trade his life for mine. But, sadly, by then, I no longer loved them.

At the afterparty, my daughter, Mia Volpe, suffers from a sudden asthma attack. She collapses to the carpeted floor and goes through a seizure on the spot. But my Capo husband, Lorenzo Volpe, wraps an arm around his secretary, Sophia Bianchi, while watching Mia suffer before his eyes. Sophia had once shown him a forged paternity test of Mia and him. As such, he firmly believes that Mia is the bastard child of me and a Soldato. When Mia tries to reach out for Lorenzo, her complexion already bluish-purple from suffocation, he merely averts his gaze with a disgusted look on his face. "Daddy… S-Save… me…" I look everywhere for Mia's inhaler like a madwoman, only to realize that it's already empty. Sophia covers her mouth while tittering softly. "Dear me, Mia sure has an affinity for acting! Elena, I can't believe you and your daughter are willing to go to such lengths just to get Lorenzo to pay attention to you! "Since Mia likes acting that much, she might as well make the performance perfect." She lifts a high-heeled foot before crushing Mia's fingers, which were attempting to curl around Lorenzo's pant leg. Poor Mia was in so much pain, yet she couldn't let out a single sound. All she could do was scream silently into the void with her mouth wide open. I kneeled on the floor, my forehead already bleeding from smashing it against the floor repeatedly. "Lorenzo Volpe, Mia is your flesh and blood! Please, I'm begging you! Give me some medicine or call a doctor!" But Lorenzo just looks at me coldly, as though he's looking at trash. "A bastard like her is better off dead. Elena Corleone, stop using such underhanded methods to spoil everyone's mood." At that moment, what little love I still harbor for this man completely dissipates as I feel Mia's heartbeat gradually weaken. I no longer beg him for help. With trembling hands, I press the button on the emergency transmitter that I've sworn I'd never touch. That transmitter is the direct line to the highest authority in Smeraldia—my father, Don Vito Corleone.

When I'm seven months pregnant, my mate, Kayden Booker, brings me to a celebratory party hosted in the Darkwind pack. Vera Walker, a Beta warrior, purposefully splashes red wine onto my gown. She also accuses me of smelling like a Rogue. I shove her away, only for her to collapse to the floor. Kayden immediately picks Vera up before slapping me in the face. "You're just a plaything to warm my bed, and yet you have the gall to touch what's mine?" That night, the video of me doing a lap dance while heavily pregnant is projected to the pack's public monitor, all thanks to Vera. The comment section is filled with the wolves' lewd chuckles and mocking comments. As I hide outside the door, I listen to Kayden and his subordinates' conversation. "She's just a human being who's meant to carry my pup. I'm going to abandon her when I get sick of her." "Only the Moon Goddess knows if that pup inside her womb is a bastard pup or what." "Vera is right. Women like her should be groomed." The wolves laugh among themselves. "Alpha Kayden, that woman sure is hot! Will you give her to us and let us have a taste?" Kayden replies icily, "Once she gives birth to that wretched pup, you can do whatever you want to her." Laughter fills the conference hall once again. I pull out the silver dagger that I've been tucking under my pillow. Then, I scratch out the countdown timer on my calendar.

My billionaire husband suffered from chronic insomnia for years. Only the sleep balm I made could help him sleep. On the night of our seventh wedding anniversary, his childhood sweetheart poured a basin of scalding water over the old camphor tree in our garden. I wept and tried to save the tree as she apologized, “I didn’t know you used its leaves to make the sleep balm.” My husband gently comforted her and ordered his men to tie me to the tree trunk instead. “What a precious tree. You’ll spend the rest of your days with it!” With my wrist fractured as a result, I filed for divorce immediately. A month later, my husband was unable to sleep late one night. He stood in the garden and stared at the withered camphor tree.

The hospital suddenly called to inform me that the kidney I had been scheduled to receive had been transferred—by my husband—to his first love. I confronted him. He replied casually, "It's just one kidney. Are you really in such a hurry? Daphne needs it more, so let her have it first. You're not going to die anytime soon anyway!" I stood there holding the medical report proving he had uremia, and in that moment, my three-year marriage felt like a joke. Fine. He was right. I wasn't the one who was sick—so what was I rushing for?