Sixth Hokage

I've stood before a priest and sworn my vows to the same man seven times. And for the seventh time, I've signed divorce papers in front of the family lawyer. At our first wedding, the youngest Capo of the Throne family held my hand and promised, "From this day forward, my life is yours and yours alone." But whenever his childhood sweetheart stirred up trouble and needed his protection, Carter's vow to me would conveniently become a sanctuary for her. "Tessa's in trouble again, Maeve. For your own safety, we have to get a divorce for now." The first time I was forced to divorce, I threatened him with the honor of our families' alliance, even vowing to expose his betrayal at a family gathering. His men dragged me out of the manor. The third time I signed the papers, I humbled myself, sneaking into the family's private club just to catch a glimpse of him from afar. By the sixth time, I had learned to quietly pack my few belongings in this house of lies, without putting up a fight. My breakdowns and desperate, undignified attempts to save us were only ever met with Carter's reliable promise to remarry me, just before another round of the divorce game he played for Tessa's sake. Until this time. After hearing Tessa was returning to New York from Italy, I didn't wait for Carter to speak. I placed the signed divorce papers in his study myself. Just like always, he casually set a date for our remarriage. But he didn't know that day was the day I would disappear from his world forever.

When my father asked me who I wanted to marry for the sake of our family alliance, I made a different choice in this life. I no longer chose Leonardo Vittorio. Instead, I chose his older brother, Ivan Vittorio. My father looked confused. After all, everyone in Chicago knew that Leonardo and I had grown up together. I had chased after him for ten years. As the eldest daughter of the Lucien family, my name had long been inscribed beside his on the list of arranged marriages. Everyone believed our union was destined. Recalling my past life, I forced a bitter smile. Back then, I had indeed married Leonardo as I had always wished. But after our wedding, he never once touched me. I thought he had some unspeakable illness and went to great lengths to cover for him. It wasn't until our sixth wedding anniversary that, by chance, I opened the safe in his study. Inside, neatly arranged, were photos of him with the orphan girl I had begged my father to adopt. In those pictures, there was also a two-year-old boy—their son. They were a happy family of three. It was at that moment that I finally understood. He wasn’t sick. He had never thought of me as his wife. To get rid of me, he and my adoptive sister plotted my murder. Now that I have been given a second chance, I chose to give them my blessing. But when I walked down the aisle in my wedding dress, my hand resting on Ivan’s arm, Leonardo burst into the church with a gun in his hand. He looked deranged and completely out of control. "Madeline!" His voice was hoarse and nearly breaking. "How dare you?"

Despite Chuck Garrison cheating on me seven times, I forgive him. He willingly hurts me for his first love, Rebecca Kerry, even though we've been married for seven years. In the second year of his openly pursuing me, Chuck takes the blow in my stead when a robber tries to stab me. I then promise him that no matter what he does, I'll forgive him up to seven times. I don't expect his passionate love to change immediately after we get married. The first time happens on our wedding anniversary. Chuck lies to me, telling me that he has a meeting to attend. In reality, he goes to pick up Rebecca, who has just returned to the country. The second time happens when Rebecca lies about being sick. Chuck doesn't hesitate for even a second and leaves, even though he's celebrating my birthday with me. The third time happens when Chuck hires Rebecca as his assistant. I stumble upon them hugging and kissing each other when I turn the corner. The sixth time happens when I'm pregnant. An unexpected issue occurs, but Chuck is accompanying Rebecca, so there's no one to take care of me. In the end, I suffered a miscarriage. I spend countless nights crying alone after being neglected. I force myself to endure everything because of the promise I made. Out of the seven chances I promised Chuck, there is only one chance left. This time, Chuck orders me to transfer ownership of my company, Starlight Group, to Rebecca. I say nothing as I sign the acquisition contract, hiding a divorce agreement among the documents before handing the stack of papers to him. This is the last time, Chuck. We will not be seeing each other anymore.

It was our sixth wedding anniversary. Lord Tom didn't pledge his vows to me, but instead gave me his family's crest—a dim, unstable mark, the mark of a blood slave. That very night, while solemn hymns echoed through the hall, he performed a blood oath ceremony with his pure-blood first love, Lady Mia. I refused the mark. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Love is a luxury only immortals can afford, Rowling," he said. "My union with Mia is a political necessity—to maintain the purity of the bloodline." His gaze turned icy. "You are a mortal. You should be content with my protection. Few receive such a blessing." I didn't speak.I left before dawn. Six years later, we met again at a banquet hosted by the Vampire High Council. Tom walked in with Mia, her silk dress shimmering silver in the moonlight. Under his rule, his family was about to gain a seat in the Senate. His gaze found me. I stood in the hotel's decorative fountain, the water up to my ankles, soaking wet, sand clinging to my dress. A familiar look of contempt flickered across his face. "Rowling," he said coldly. "You refused my protection, mocked my generosity. Now you're rummaging through a public fountain like a beggar." The corners of his mouth curled slightly. "Do you really think any vampire would take in a mortal without a protector?" I didn't look up. I was searching for my son's tourmaline that had fallen into the water. But to my son, it was a seal—an ancient restraint, suppressing a power that shouldn't awaken so early. I could already feel it weakening. If the seal cannot be repaired in time, the power erupting within him will destroy the entire building.

My fated mate, Alpha Kaelen, rejected me seven times. The first time we bonded, he whispered against my ear, his breath hot. “From now on, my soul sings only for you.” But then his first love, the Omega Seraphina, came back for him. And just like that, he rejected me. They shared a mate’s mark from their past. It left her hopelessly addicted to his scent. “I’m sorry,” he’d said. “I have to be with Seraphina. The scent addiction is destroying her. She can’t even shift. Her wolf is weakening.” The first time he rejected me, I slashed a silver dagger across my wrist. I let the blood flow, hoping the pain would make him look at me. It worked. Kaelen was horrified. He left Seraphina for a moment and rushed to my side, holding me, comforting me. The third time, I disguised myself as an ordinary pack wolf. I got an internship at his pack headquarters, just to breathe in the air he breathed. But this time, he looked right through me, as if we were strangers. By the sixth rejection, I had learned how to calmly erase my scent from his suite. I left without a sound. My screams. My surrender. My begging. And what I got in return? Every time he was with her, the full moon would rise, and he’d call me back. Just to play the same sick game all over again. Until now. I heard Seraphina was coming back again. So I handed him the ceremonial dagger myself. He set the date for my return, just like always. He had no idea. This time, I'm the one severing the bond for good. And I am never coming back.

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"