Stars Everywhere

"If I were you..." He began, his eyes suddenly having slits of fury burning within them. "I'd mind my thoughts and limit what I say." His voice dropped gravely low. My brows knitted in a frown. "Excuse me?" I asked, amused. "Are you threatening me??" I prodded further. Nicholas chortled, his voice reverberating through the walls of the room. "Call it whatever you want-I honestly don't give two fucks, but let me make it known to you, young lady..." He started and paused, and in a flick, his face became contorted with rage. "You're my possession now... You're at my mercy and I can fucking do anything I want to do to you right now, in case you don't realize that yet." He continued and I stared on, goosebumps breaking out on my forearm. "Who can save you from my clutches? Exactly what you're guessing... nobody, not even your boss, Megan!" ~>>>~ Nicholas Hills is one of the new names on the movie production scene. He is known as a Billionaire Playboy who had inherited his fortune from his Grandfather. Nicholas is naturally flirty, his good looks making him an automatic ladies' magnet, so he hides his vulnerability and prefers to give off the impression of being a careless playboy. Corvette Vincente, a 24-year-old Private Investigator is the best at what she does. Working for the ruthless gossip magazine "Splash a Star" which makes its profit from bringing out the skeleton in the closet of celebrity stars,Corvette is the best they have and her latest assignment is the Playboy Billionaire movie producer, Nicholas Hills. Getting him caught up in a scandal should be as easy as swatting a fly, but what happens when his charms and sensuality turn her into his scandal instead...? And she loves it! Every single bit!!

“I’m going to split you open on my cock right here on this table,” he snarled, fangs grazing the frantic pulse in my throat, “and knot you so deep my daughter and every wolf in this pack will smell me dripping out of your ruined little cunt for weeks. Tell me you want that, babygirl. Beg Daddy for it.” I was shaking, slick running down my thighs, clit throbbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Yes… please…” His massive hand clamped around my throat, squeezing until stars burst behind my eyes. “Yes what, little human?” “Yes, Daddy,” I choked out, voice breaking. “Ruin me. Breed me. Right fucking now.” --- I never should’ve stepped foot in Ireland for my best friend’s Christmas wedding. Not when I’ve spent months on my knees in the dark, fingers buried in my pussy, moaning her father’s name like a prayer. Alpha Cassian Blackthorne. Ruthless. Feral. Old enough to be my father...twice over. The monster who makes empires kneel and wolves beg, the wolf who could snap my neck with a flick of his wrist… and the only man I want choking me with his belt while he forces every thick inch down my throat. He’s forbidden. He’s depraved. He’s looking at me now under the blood-red Christmas lights like he’s already tasted my surrender. And he has one holiday wish... To hunt me. Break me. Fuck me raw and bloody until I’m addicted to his knot. Until I’m carrying his pup and wearing his bite like a collar. This Christmas, the Alpha isn’t asking permission. He’s taking his naughty little human pet… And I’m already dripping for the day he finally snaps.

"Alex... help… please…" I tried to whisper, but no sound came out. I saw them, Alexander had his arms wrapped around Sophia, who was clutching him like her life depended on it. She was pressed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, and she wasn't letting go. "Don't look at her," Sophia whispered loudly. "You'll only make yourself sick with guilt. This isn't your fault. She did this to herself by being dramatic." That's when I heard the scream. "Oh my God! Mrs. Sterling!" Rosa, one of our housemaids, came rushing into the dining room. "Mrs. Sterling, what happened to you?" Rosa dropped to her knees beside me, her hands fluttering over my body like she didn't know where to start. "You're bleeding! There's so much blood everywhere!” I was bleeding? I couldn't feel anything below my waist anymore, but when I managed to glance down, I saw the dark stain spreading across my dress. "Mr. Alexander!" Rosa shouted, her voice cracking with an anger I’ve never seen in her before. She looked ready to commit murder. Did I look that bad? “Your wife is dying! How can you do this to her? How can you stand there holding another woman while your wife bleeds to death on the floor?!" Rosa snarled. "Rosa, lower your voice," Alexander snapped, but I could hear something different in his tone. Uncertainty. "Take Ivy to the hospital and stop making a scene, or you'll be looking for another job." Rosa shot back, tears streaming down her face. "¡Sos un bueno para nada! What kind of man are you?" I was going to die. Right here on my dining room floor, wearing my mother's blood-stained dress while my husband comforted another woman.

"You let another man touch what belongs to me?" Lucian’s hand, a possessive vice, encircled her throat. "How dare you? You're mine. The next man who lays a finger on you will beg for death." Lyra’s bitter laugh filled the silence. "Since when do you care? Wasn't I your 'land whale'? Your 'disgusting she-hippopotamus'?" CRACK. His fist splintered the plaster beside her head. "I. FUCKING. CARED. You were always MINE." "I counted every breath you took in his arms," Lucian whispered, his lips grazing the scar he’d given her. "Now he'll count his as I carve them out." Lyra stood unyielding. "You discarded me like trash. He picked up the pieces." The mirror shattered as he hurled her against it. "I WAS SAVING YOU." From what? The forced marriage? The night she miscarried, utterly alone? Lucian’s "care" came too late. Lyra never wanted this marriage—a gilded cage to a billionaire who systematically broke her. But with her mother’s life hanging by a thread, she sold herself to the monster who devoured her soul. Lucian crushed her, made her beg for scraps of dignity. Then, his best friend offered everything Lucian withheld—gentle hands, tender words, a love that didn't wound. Lucian returned. Now, he's a shadow, everywhere: watching her with hungry eyes, touching her with possessive hands, swearing this time will be different. He pleaded, on his knees, for her heart. But Lyra knows better. She’s uncovered three explosive truths: Lucian's first wife wasn't just gone; she was murdered. Her sister didn't disappeared. And the most dangerous lie of all? She's been sleeping with it. Game over? Or game just beginning? As Lucian's obsession escalates and the past claws its way back, Lyra will choose between revenge, accept or reject.

I slammed the bathroom door, desperate for thirty seconds of peace without feeling their overwhelming presence. They were waiting when I came out. Hunter leaned against the wall looking annoyingly perfect, Zane was already smirking, and Seth had the decency to look slightly guilty. "I can't even pee without one of you stalking me," I snapped. "Don't blame me," Hunter said, hands up. "That's all Seth." "Hey!" Seth protested. "Dude, you literally tracked her scent to the library yesterday like some creepy bloodhound." Zane stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "In his defense, you smell amazing. Like rain and something wild. It's... distracting." Heat flashed through me at his words. This was my new reality—three devastatingly hot guys who wouldn't leave me alone. The scary part? I was starting to like it. **** Two years ago, when Dad got stripped of his Alpha title for breaking pack law, we were exiled to a crappy apartment on the wrong side of town. I thought my life sucked before, but this was a whole new level of hell. At academy, I'm the girl everyone avoids. Bad luck follows me everywhere, or so they think. Perfect target for bullies, especially my stepsister Cessy. She's everything I'm not—head cheerleader, gorgeous, popular. While she's the golden child at home and school, I'm her personal 'unpaid' assistant. Then everything changed on my eighteenth birthday. I found my mates. Not just one, but three. The Blackwood Trio: Hunter, Seth, and Zane. Hockey gods, gorgeous Alphas, the most wanted guys at school. Every girl dreams about them, every guy wants to be them. And somehow, impossibly, they're mine. Of course, nothing's ever simple in my life. Three mates means three times the drama, three times the possessiveness, and way more heat than I know how to handle.

Grote Mendoza, the Alpha of the Valkyrie pack, has an extremely strong libido. Whenever he sees my body, he can't seem to control himself at all. He's very rough with me in bed, resulting in me fainting every time we sleep with each other. "Honey, can you endure this for me one more time?" It's been seven years. This is my 99th time enduring the torturous session with Grote. Because of that, my private part suffers from severe ulceration and infection. I thought Grote loves me, but it turns out that he's just a wolf who suffers from weird fetishes. I thought he'll slowly learn how to be gentle with me for my sake. But when I watch all 99 tapes that he and his mistress, Christine Henson, have recorded of themselves going at it, I finally realize that his gentle side is never meant for me at all. Grote blames me for not being able to be with pup thanks to my private part's condition. He allows Christine to abuse and humiliate me however she wants. In fact, he even beds her before my eyes. He refuses to believe that I will ditch him. All he does is beg me relentlessly for my forgiveness and promise me that I'll be his only Luna. Apparently, having a mistress spices up his bedroom life for him. But Grote repeatedly allows Christine to humiliate me. She forces me to become her slave and keep serving her until she gives birth to her pup. I've been enduring Grote's actions for seven years. All I get is pain and abuse that keeps worsening in return. I don't want to endure the humiliation anymore, even if it means dying right here, right now. I jump into the sea without hesitation, allowing the ice-cold water to swallow me whole. I'm willing to do anything just to escape from Grote's suffocating love that's packaged as abuse… After I die in the sea, Grote completely loses control of himself and keeps looking for me everywhere he goes.

The mayor was in a car accident and rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. My boyfriend, Joe Reid, wanted our junior colleague, Melissa Cross, to become the mayor's savior, so he convinced the entire department to delay the surgery while waiting for her. She was late because she had been making her special herbal drink. The mayor's life was hanging by a thread. If we did not act fast, we'd all be in serious trouble! I pleaded with them to start the surgery immediately, but all I received was accusations. "You're just jealous because Joe promised Melissa a permanent position. You're trying to ruin her chance to impress the mayor, aren't you?" I dropped to my knees and begged my colleagues. Only then, reluctantly, did they agree to proceed to the operating room. I served as lead surgeon with Joe and my colleagues assisting. After twelve hours, we finally saved Mayor Richard Carter's life. Afterward, our entire department received a massive bonus from the mayor. Both Joe and I were promoted. Yet on the night of my promotion, Melissa drugged me and had me locked in the hospital morgue's refrigeration unit, where I froze to death. Meanwhile, Joe led the entire department in lying to the police. "Kimberly Hayes had corrupt medical ethics. She stole credit for saving the mayor's life from Melissa to get promoted, then killed herself out of guilt." I died with my name destroyed. Melissa used this opportunity to secure her permanent position and even became department director with Richard's help. My father believed there was more to my death and fought for justice everywhere, but Joe had him committed to a psychiatric hospital where he was beaten to death by other patients. Only after death did I learn the truth. This was all a conspiracy between Melissa and Joe. Melissa was too afraid to be lead surgeon. They delayed everything just to replace me! When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day Joe led the entire department in waiting for Melissa before the surgery. In this life, I would not stop these ungrateful colleagues from destroying themselves.

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

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.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.