Tainted Justice Novels & Stories

They say nuns are off-limits. I call that a challenge. They say obsession is a sin. I stopped counting sins when blood became my business. She says I’m a sinner. She’s not wrong. But when I have her whispering confessions against my skin that would make Lucifer himself blush, what does that make her? A firecracker wrapped in a habit. All rosaries and rebellion, thinking she can drive me away with Scripture and that ice-cold stare. Amusing. Her holy water won't wash away what I do to those round tits. She's not a bride of Christ yet. And the harder she prays for salvation, the more determined I am to show her what real worship feels like. They say God answers all prayers. But in my city, prayers come to me first. Her vows or my empire. Heaven or my hell. The choice was never really hers to make. God may forgive me, but she won’t.

Emily Rosalyn Carter is a female prosecutor who is known to be cold-blooded among criminals and convicts in court. The most severe sentence demands are always the verdicts she submits to the judge so that she is nicknamed the guardian angel of the gates of hell by criminals. However, not many people know that behind Emily's cold attitude, she has many affairs with many men who take turns filling her love diary. Hot romance is Emily's choice to keep herself from losing her humanity when she has to face the cruelty of criminals in court. A hot, tense, and exciting story of the life of a single female prosecutor. Follow Emily's love journey with the men of her choice and the criminal cases she handles at the prosecutor's desk!

When I pushed through the main door, covered in blood, I found my amnesiac husband right on top of my best friend. His arm was wrapped around her waist with practiced ease, and she was passionately reciprocating his advances. "Ada will be devastated if she finds out…" Camilla said in a sweet voice through bated breaths. "After all, she really thinks you've lost your memories." Lucio chuckled softly and said in a mocking tone, "It's not my fault she loves me that much. Then again, it's a good thing for me since I can just let her do all the tough and dirty work." He leaned down and planted a kiss on Camilla's lips, mumbling, "Right now, you're the only one I recognize as my wife. Just wait. Once I sign the deal with the Della Veras, I'll have her kicked out and pass everything she owns to you. After all, I no longer remember a thing." Only then did it hit me. My husband's amnesia was all an act, a farce to fool me. Moreover, my best friend conspired with him to stab me in the back. Too bad they didn't know that the Della Vera family, the most feared Mafia family in Ritelle, only acknowledged one person: Me, Ada Rossi.

Clara Shawn wasn't one to regularly attend parties, she was a simple human girl that preferred to stay in and read a reasonable romance novel. However her roommate, Lydia, was quite the opposite and when she dragged Clara to this mysterious party outside campus, it brought Clara to the extremely handsome Nicholas Young, a 200 year old vampire with an ego as huge as there can be. Nicholas saved Clara when no one else even noticed that she needed help, but they soon discovered that they were immensely attracted to each other in a way that was beyond explanation. At first Nicholas was just curious as to what was so special about this human girl so he pursued her, little did he know that they would end up falling hopelessly in love with each other.

She was a free bird who wanted to fly in sky like a carefree bird but now she is caged bird who was struggling to get out of that prison. she tried a lot to break this prison but her destiny was sealed with the devil who only wanted to destroy her completely without any mercy. she didn't know why she is getting this unbearable punishment????? why she was being caged??? she did know nothing. she sacrificed herself for her only family, her father. saving her father, she loose herself. A devil brutally snatched her pure identity and shoved a new tainted identity on her face. Now she was living her new tainted identity, but she wanted to run away from there where she can live with her pure identity because she hated herself and her new identity as "Mistress".

A flicker of hope, a spark amidst the neon grime of New Shanghai. Anya, a slave to the Volkov Mafia, had long buried her emotions under layers of calloused defiance. Years of servitude had carved a burning desire for vengeance into her soul. Then, a whisper of rebellion arrived – a message smuggled in a package, hinting at a Volkov family secret. Anya's heart, long numbed, stuttered awake. This wasn't just a chance to escape; it was a weapon. A weapon to dismantle the empire that had stolen her life, her family, everything. But the path to freedom was a razor's edge. Fear gnawed at her, a constant companion in the Volkov's watchful gaze, their merciless enforcers lurking in every shadow. Yet, a flicker of something else bloomed – a strange, almost forgotten warmth, a sliver of the person she used to be. Could she trust it? As Anya navigated the labyrinth of lies and high-tech security, a deeper truth unfolded. This Volkov secret wasn't just about her escape; it was a key to exposing a far-reaching conspiracy, one that could reshape the city's criminal web. Suddenly, Anya's burning desire for revenge transformed. It wasn't just about herself anymore. It was about a sliver of justice, a chance to dismantle a system that preyed on the weak. But with this newfound purpose came a terrifying weight of responsibility. Was she strong enough to risk everything, to ignite a war she might not survive? The weight of human emotions – fear, anger, and a desperate yearning for freedom – threatened to suffocate her. The price of vengeance was steep, and Anya had to decide if she had the strength to pay it.

My girlfriend, Rene Watson, who's in a long-distance relationship with me, has gotten a promotion recently. I want to give her a surprise. After buying some flowers and a cake, I take a flight scheduled to depart to her city at 1:00 am. But the one who opens the door for me is actually her first love, Joshua Zimmerman. As for Rene, she's in the middle of hanging his underwear on the balcony. "Who's that, honey?" Rene asks casually, making me feel as though my heart has gotten plunged into an icy abyss. The moment she notices me, the expression on her face freezes instantly. With a sneer on my face, I smack the roses right in Joshua's face. "I'm the owner of this place! Pack up your things and get the hell out!"

On the day Yara Cullen was released from prison, it was raining. A chilly wind carried the drizzle, striking her as the media swarmed the prison gates. "Ms. Cullen, in the Crestwood Estate sexual assault case, your client lost the lawsuit and took her own life six months ago. Her mother is demanding accountability. Do you have anything to say?” "Ms. Cullen, your attorney's license has been revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. What are your thoughts on this?" No matter how the reporters pressed, Yara kept her head down and pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd. A black G-Wagon was parked by the roadside, where Westley Langston leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Beside him, Elena Cullen tugged at his arm. He turned, glancing toward the prison gates.

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

After my daughter was seriously injured in a car accident and suffered heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. When it was time to sign the surgical consent form, the nurse suddenly snapped the medical file shut and pressed it down firmly. "Hospital regulations state that only immediate family members can sign the surgical consent form. What proof do you have that you are the child's father?" I was stunned. "She is my biological daughter. Do I still need to prove it to you?" The nurse retorted, "Birth certificates can be forged. How do we know the child wasn't abducted by you? If you cannot prove it, we cannot proceed with the surgery." Seeing the nurse's self-righteous expression, I trembled with anger. "I am signing the surgical consent form for my own biological daughter. Do I need to provide DNA evidence as well?" She curled her lip. "These are hospital regulations. We are being responsible for the patient. If you cannot prove the child is yours, we will report you to the police for child trafficking." After saying that, she actually called security to report it and loudly accused me of being a human trafficker. Report me to the police? I took out my police uniform from my bag and put it on. I'd show her what a split-second response was.