The Buried Giant Novels & Stories

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.

For five years, I let my husband’s mistress take whatever she wanted. My birthday. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a damaged family still had to be better than none at all. It wasn’t. This year, my husband took his mistress away for their birthday trip, and my son ran straight into her arms and called her Mom. That was the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago: no matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be the one they chose. So I filed for divorce. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing. His mistress thought she had won. My son did not even look back. None of them believed I could really walk away. Then a call came from overseas: Matteo Bellandi’s wife was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.

In the third year after my death, my wife, a lawyer named Serena Collier, wants me to take the blame and go to prison for her first love, Declan Merritt, once again. She arrives at my hometown carrying a confession statement she prepared, only to discover the place has long since fallen into ruin. Feeling panicked, she has no choice but to ask the neighbors where I am. My neighbor says, "You're asking about Fletcher Whitmore? He's been dead for a long time! I hear that a victim's family hunted him down for revenge and beat him to death after he got out of prison." Serena refuses to believe it. She thinks that my neighbor is in cahoots with me to deceive her. With a disgusted expression, she lets out a cold snort. She sneers, "All I did was put him behind bars for a few years. Now, he even dares to lie to me! "Tell him this for me—if he doesn't show up in court that day, he can forget about me giving another cent to his mother in the mental hospital!" After saying that, she storms off angrily. Watching her stubborn figure disappear into the distance, my neighbor sighs heavily. "But his mother already starved to death in that mental hospital a long time ago…"

I'm going to die. In the eyes of the underworld, I was a sinner. My death would be a final, cursed dishonor. But even with the Ricci family in ruins, I was still the noble Principessa. The Ricci pride in my blood would not allow my body to fall into the hands of a rival Family. Humiliation. Desecration. Photographs flaunted for all to see. I didn't much care if my body became a trophy to celebrate their victory. But if the world knew the last of the Ricci bloodline had become a plaything for our enemies, it would be a disgrace to the entire Family. After weighing my options, I dragged my broken body to the turf of my ex-boyfriend, the man I'd left seven years ago, now the Don of the Falcone family. "After I die, I need you to handle my body." He was silent for a long moment, then let out a cold laugh. "Of course. I'll sink you in the Hudson River with a tombstone tied to your feet, engraved with the name of your filthy family."

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a crumpled, torn scrap of paper. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

Every time I miscarry, Adrian Sadler brings home a new woman who eerily resembles his first love. He makes me put the rubber on him, forces me to watch their fevered passion, and then orders me to bring warm water for their intimate cleanup. I do everything I'm told, begging for just one night a month with him. That is, until I accidentally tear his favorite lover Peggy Olson's lingerie. That night, Adrian streams my humiliation for the world to see. He drags me onto the bed, twists my body to expose me fully to the camera, and pins me beneath an avalanche of shame. "Did you think her lingerie was suggestive? What about now? Look at yourself. Do you think you are any better? You love crawling into my bed, don't you? I'll help you get your fill. Maybe one man isn't enough to satisfy you. Why don't I call in ten men tomorrow?" As punishment, Adrian throws me outside, in my birthday suit, in the courtyard. Blood slowly pools beneath me. I experience my tenth miscarriage. I look for Derek Sadler and say, "I promised to help your family to repay your kindness. I tried my best. Ten miscarriages later, whatever blessing I once had is gone. I'll never have children again. Today, I've come to say goodbye."

My wife, an airline captain, was eight months pregnant when her plane crashed. In the middle of the disaster, she carried out an emergency landing. I searched through the wreckage for any sign of my wife, Candice Jenkins, only to be told that not even her remains could be found. Other than me, the only survivors were my wife’s younger sister and her brother-in-law, Austin Ryles. I searched frantically for my wife’s whereabouts, but five months later, I accidentally overheard my sister-in-law arguing with a friend while drunk. "Austin suddenly lost his wife, and his arm was injured in the crash. How could I just leave him alone? "Back then, Jon Cole’s mother drugged me and forced me to marry him. After all these years, it’s impossible for me not to feel some resentment. I might as well use this chance to make up for my regrets. Once Austin’s arm recovers, everything can go back to normal." Only then did I realize that the 'sister-in-law' standing before me was actually my missing wife, Candice Jenkins. My heart turned cold. I threw her memorial portrait into the trash and called my parents. "Stop looking for Candice. Just erase her records. "I’m remarrying."

My mate bond with Alpha Ronan of the Blackthorne Pack had failed thirty-two times. I thought the Moon Goddess did not bless us. I thought if I endured a little longer, loved him a little harder, the next time would finally work. Until the thirty-third rite. Then the fire swallowed me whole. When I woke in the healers’ hall, my body was broken, my Moonborn Core was damaged. Only then did I hear Ronan speaking to his Beta outside the door. “If you love Selene that much, then sever the claim with Elara. The Blackthorne Pack can silence any rumor. Why keep staging accidents?” “She almost died,” his Beta said. “Ten years ago, the Alpha of Nightvale and his mate died saving me. This bond is how I repay that debt.” “I never wanted Nightvale’s bloodline chained to mine.” “The woman I love is Selene.” That was when I finally understood. The Moon Goddess had never rejected us. Ronan had. He saw my parents’ sacrifice as a chain around his neck. He saw Nightvale’s Moonborn bloodline as a cage built to trap him. And he would never know— the fire he arranged had already taken the child I carried. The true black-core heir Blackthorne had waited generations for. If Ronan hated this bond so much, I would give him what he wanted. I would sever the claim myself.

Calla Winthrop thought she had it all—a devoted husband, a beautiful home, and a baby on the way. But on the night of their anniversary, everything shattered. A hidden mistress. A plan to steal her unborn child. And then the final betrayal… he killed her. But death didn’t take her soul—it gave her a second chance. She awakens in the body of Isadora Kane—a woman whispered about in fear, hated for her venomous tongue, cold cruelty, and ruthless past. Isadora’s name alone can curdle blood… especially her husband Madden’s. Cold, distant, dangerously powerful—he can barely stand the sight of her. But beneath the loathing is something darker... hungrier. Now trapped in the life of a woman everyone wants to see fall, Calla must play a deadly game. She must become the villainess the world believes she is—outsmart enemies she’s never met, unravel Isadora’s dangerous secrets, and resist the searing pull of a husband who wants nothing to do with her… until he starts to want everything. She’s got one goal: Take back her stolen child. Destroy the man who murdered her. But in a world where enemies wear the sweetest smiles, and the truth is tangled in seduction and lies, Calla’s second chance could become her final downfall. Because someone knows she’s not Isadora. And they're watching. Let the revenge begin….