Silence Like Glass

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.

It was Hana Verlice’s engagement party — but the only thing she could think about was that night six months ago. The night Dante Carter pinned her against the backseat window of his car,cheeks pressed to the glass, her dress lifted to her waists, with his mouth buried between her legs. Now, she was hours away from marrying his older brother. Elijah Osborne Carter — the perfect man, heir to Osborne Pharmaceuticals, and her father’s last hope of saving their crumbling empire. But as she slipped into her designer dress, her mind couldn't stop thinking about the one man she could never have. Dante. The mistake she was supposed to forget. The temptation she swore never to touch again. The younger brother who disappeared after that night and was never supposed to come back. But as she stepped out of her dressing room to join her soon-to-be husband at the party, there he was. Leaning at the foot of the stairs like raw sin. Messy hair. Dark eyes. That cocky mouth that once had her moaning his name in ecstacy. Her pulse quickened as her knees threatened to give out. She tried to breathe. To stay still. But one look at him… and she knew she was in trouble. “What the hell are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice barely holding. He smirked, slow and knowing as his gaze dropped shamelessly to her lips. “Did you miss me, cookie?”

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

To transfer my sister, Suri Voss, who was 13 years younger than I was, to a new school district, I took 7 days of annual leave and went back to my hometown. I pulled strings, delivered gifts, called in favors, and finally forced a spot for her in the best middle school in the city. At last, when I could pause long enough to catch my breath, I told Mom, who was heading out to buy groceries, that I wanted grilled pork ribs for dinner. Suri walked over with a cold expression, then threw a full glass of icy water straight onto my head and pointed at my face as she exploded. "You country leech, mooching off our family for years, eating our food and living in our house whenever you feel like it. I let all that slide. Now you want to steal my mom too? Do you have any shame at all?! "Listen carefully, Mom only has one child. She will only ever love me!" I stood there, stunned. Suri had no idea I was Mom’s biological daughter, too. All this time, she had treated me as some freeloading relative. I looked toward the doorway, where Mom was changing her shoes to go out. She seemed not to have heard a single word of Suri’s disrespect. She merely said casually, "Suri doesn’t like ribs. Let’s have grilled shrimp instead." She had forgotten that I’ve been severely allergic to seafood since childhood. I lowered my head and let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh. Unbeknownst to them, if I could secure Suri a place in that school, I could just as easily make sure she lost it.

Difficult events in Alicia's life led her to a school for werewolves. How will her fate among the hostile strange creatures? She is confused, but does not give up. The fighting spirit of the girl helps to reveal incredible secrets. And, of course, in the new school, she will meet a domineering mysterious guy, whom everyone is afraid of ... ... I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of a black tinted car. Outside the window, blurring into one indistinct picture, the trees of an unfamiliar dense forest flashed by. “I was taught not to get into a car with strangers, so where are they taking me now?” I thought belatedly. Despair mingled with fear, making her heart race.

A sharp pull by my wrist bought me back to the wall. I hold my breath for a moment. "what the hell" I cussed. "Shh, baby girl" he exclaimed. I cringed with the endearment he used. He brought his face near to my face. His breath is fanning all over my lips. It raised my heartbeat to a different level. It must be heard by him also. His smirk face saying it all. His eyes are gazing my lips and he started closing the small gap we have between our lips to be mingled into one. Sensing his intentions I closed my eyes & moved my face to the left. He stopped right away & increase the gap between us which I really appreciate but the hold of his hand on my wrist is very tight. It started paining me slowly. "Now listen to me very carefully, we might be lawfully wedded husband & wife. But you are nothing to me. I have only married you because of my doll" he said rudely to me. I forcefully release my hand from his hulk like grip which resulted into breaking my bangles & a piece of glass cut into my hand. It hurt me like hell. There must be a big cut in my hand. Ignoring the pain in my hand. I showed my other hand finger towards him and said "even I was not interested in this marriage. I am kind of forced into this" Which I am not, my subconscious mocked me. But I won’t give him that satisfaction. Although I was not forced but I had no other option than to accept this marriage. _______________________ This is the story of Payal Mehra and Kabir Khurana who are bound by vows in the sacred bond of marriage which was not in their to do list. But yet they are.

  “Liar. Slut. That thing in your belly isn’t mine.” Those were his last words before the door slammed and I hit the floor, shaking, wondering how the man I married had turned into someone who enjoyed watching me fall apart. Love wasn’t supposed to feel like punishment, but with him, it became exactly that. The insults. The bruises. The silence afterward. And the worst part was watching my own cousin the girl I grew up with slide into his life watching mine fall apart. He threw me out like trash. They both did. But I didn’t die out there. I got back up. And the woman who stood again wasn’t the weak one they tried to break. She was someone they should’ve feared from the start. There’s someone new now. He doesn’t see me as a burden but as someone worth fighting for. So when my ex shows up months later, suddenly soft-spoken, suddenly sorry, mumbling, “Emily… please. I messed up,” he expects the old me to crawl back. Instead, I look him in the eye and tell him the truth “You’re not part of my life anymore. You’re just what I had to survive.”

"I don't merely experience anger, Hiya. My feelings towards you go beyond that - it's a perpetual hatred. While anger may subside in a moment, this kind of hatred lingers for a lifetime. No matter how much one desires, such hatred cannot be eradicated. I harbor an enduring resentment towards you, Hiya!" The intensity of his words conveyed the depth of his emotions and the complexity of the situation. "You women are truly greedy. And you, Hiya, turned out to be just like that. Did you marry me for anything other than money?" Ahil's eyes became slightly moist as he spoke, but he couldn't contain his silence today. It felt like he was unleashing years of pent-up frustration on one woman. Pausing briefly, he began to roar again, "What do you think of yourself, Hiya? Will you go anywhere without telling, considering yourself the mistress of this house?" Then, after a momentary pause, he yelled, "But don't forget that your place in this house is worse than that of the servants. You are my slave and will always remain so. Because you created this place for yourself... never consider yourself the mistress of this house. And yes, you have no right to question me. Stick to the job you were brought here for and don't try to go beyond that. Otherwise, I will kill you...!"

A blessing or a curse? Izzat dislikes his gift, but no one knows about his arduous hardship except his best friend, Fakhrul. Not even his family realized he hold such a big and deep secret within his heart. He occasionally pondered in silence, why a person like him is given such a troublesome gift? Does the gift exist to help someone else? Or to help himself? Once is coincidental. What about twice? And the next time after that? Can you still call this bizarre incident a coincidence anymore? Come join him in his journey of life that is full of unexpected surprises. Scared? You shouldn't be feared by those from the dark side. The scariest thing is coming from within, and every person out there holds malice in their fragile heart. After all, we do have a story that we will never tell others. This is a work of fiction. And the book cover is not mine. Credit to the real owner.

Luke moved then. Fast. Too fast. One second he was across the room, the next he was in front of her, towering over her like a wall of heat and fury. His hands came up, gripping her arms not gently, not cruelly, but with a force that said he was one second from shattering. “You think I don’t fight for you every damn day?” His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with something raw. “You think I don’t take bullets for you behind the scenes? Every single move I make is to keep you breathing, Abigail. So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m doing nothing.” Her breath hitched, but the anger didn’t stop burning. “Then say it to her. Say it to their faces instead of hiding behind silence like a coward!” Something snapped in his eyes then something sharp and blazing. And before Abigail could blink, his mouth was on hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was a collision hard, punishing, desperate. All the rage, the fear, the need that had been coiling between them exploded like fire. Abigail gasped against him, her hands going up to his chest, meaning to push him away except she didn’t. Just couldn’t. Because the second his tongue slid against hers, the second his body pressed flush against hers, every bone in her body melted. Luke growled low in his throat, a sound that made heat curl deep in her belly. He spun her, slamming her gently but firmly against the wall, his hands framing her face as he devoured her mouth like he’d been starving for years.