The Dinner

“Your marriage is like a fairytale, exquisite dinner dates, designer gowns, a husband who made the world believe in love.” they said. She smiled, knowing everything was a lie. If only they knew that behind the diamonds, the laughter, and the perfect photographs were scars she still pretended not to see. Anne-Marie Duval was born into a world of luxury and riches — heiress to Duval Scents, Paris’s most coveted perfume empire. Married to her childhood love, Louis Trottier, Anne-Marie believed her husband was perfect until she discovered he was more of a demon than human. Desperate to save her marriage and father's name , she offers him everything: her heart, her possessions, even a child but that only worsened everything. On the night that was meant to celebrate two years of forced love and marriage, Anne-Marie’s world crumbles before her eyes. Heavily pregnant, she never expected her anniversary party to turn into a public humiliation. The man she loved calls her a slut and declares his new mistress before everyone. When she wakes up, it’s not her husband by her side but a stranger her father sent to protect her. And waiting for her are divorce papers, scandalous headlines, and the cruel reality that the man she once trusted has stripped her of everything—even the company her father left her. Now, broken but not defeated, Florence vows to reclaim her dignity, her freedom, and make Louis Trottier pay for everything he had done. He may have destroyed their marriage but she will decide how their story ends. Will she succeed in her revenge plan or will the turn out of a new love story distract her? Find out..

On New Year's Eve, my older brother, Casper Shaw, attempted to expose me as a fraud and announced that Jenny Ford was the real heiress to the family. He pulled out a paternity test result and threw it in my face. "Open your eyes and take a look! Jenny is the Shaw family's real daughter. You're just a fake who has taken Jenny's place for so many years, yet you still have the nerve to sit here and eat New Year's Eve dinner with us!" Then, he pushed Jenny in front of us, revealing a face that looked exactly like my mom, Theresa. Everyone froze. I lunged for the report, but suddenly, a stream of floating comments rolled past above Jenny's head. [Is the female lead finally going back to her rich family and starting a sweet romance with her fake older brother?] [Not yet. Right now, they still think they're siblings. They only get together later, once the misunderstandings are cleared up.] [Am I the only one who feels bad for the female supporting character? She's the biggest victim in the whole book. She takes all the female lead's hatred that should have gone to her fake brother, and she gets treated as the fake heiress and sent to the Ford family to suffer on top of that.] I looked at Jenny's face and compared it to my own—we almost looked like twins. I checked our ID cards again, confirming that our dates of birth were exactly the same. "Seriously? Ever think that you might be the real impostor here who was switched at birth?"

She thought he was a stranger for the night, until he called her “stepmother.” ******************** Scarlett became a collateral wife to one of the most ruthless billionaires in the country after her father sold her to him cheaply because he was drowning in debts. She became a trophy wife, whom he had no regard for. He cheated on her over and over again, and whenever Scarlett complained about it, he told her she could do the same. An open marriage offer was thrown at her without a care, fed up and wanting to rebel, Scarlett embraced the idea too. She strutted into a host bar with just one thought in mind: to get ruined for the night, and asked for the hottest male host to get her laid. She spent a passionate night with a call boy, whose name she didn’t even bother to ask, and ran off the next day, burying her little secret in that hotel room. But the secret came biting back at her when she realized, at the family dinner the next day, that the call boy from the other night was her husband’s eldest son. She thought she could bury the memories of the night by pretending she had forgotten, but she was far gone, because that one night of temptation had sprouted into a forbidden desire she couldn’t control. She shouldn't have let him touched her that night, now she was ruined, and wouldn't mind crossing the line to have him touched her like that again, but underneath the burning temptation was also a conspiracy that Scarlett would have to uncover… *****Warning***** This books contains a lot of steamy scenes, and explicit contents which is strictly not for people under 18.

My mafia husband, Vincent Santoro, was born a monster, incapable of loving anyone. But one day, I discovered he was hiding a ‘forbidden fruit’. A girl from the slums, Claire Murphy. Scarred by life, yet as beautiful as a wildflower growing through concrete. For a man who'd waded through blood his whole life, she was a fatal attraction he never saw coming. He thought he'd covered his tracks. He was wrong. At the Santoro family's annual dinner, I confronted him about Claire, tears streaking down my face. He just lightly frowned, then had his consigliere slide the divorce papers across the table to me. "Isabella. Sign it. The three North Side docks and the shipping lines are yours." I tore the papers to shreds. He just kept raising the offer. He had me thrown into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. He blew up my family's distillery—the Romano family's legacy. Finally, he took my parents. Tied them in an abandoned warehouse and made one watch as he set the other on fire. "Sign, or watch them burn. Your choice." I begged him on my knees, but a roar of flames consumed the world— The heat seared my skin, the ash of my parents clinging to my face. "No... NO!" When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back on the day I first learned about Claire. This time, no tears, no drama. That night, I called my family in Sicily and set my escape in motion. But the moment I vanished from his world… Vincent Santoro went insane.

After my sister's death, I signed a five-year contract marriage with her mafia husband, Horton Falcone. I became the stepmother to my five-year-old nephew, Luca. On my birthday, I wore my late sister's diamond cross necklace, not realizing what it was. At the family dinner, Luca walked up to me with a glass of red wine and threw the wine in my face. The red wine dripped down my cheeks, its sharp scent stinging my eyes and staining my white dress. He tilted his head back to look up at me, his eyes as cold and cruel as his father's. "Don't think you can replace my mom just because you married into the Falcone family," he said with a malicious grin. "You're the reason she's dead." "I wish you were the one who died. Then I could smash your gravestone instead of celebrating this stupid birthday." "I swear, when I grow up, the first thing I'll do is dump you in the Hudson River myself!" The memory stung as sharply as the wine, and all I could taste was despair. I stared at the child I had spent five years raising as my own, a sharp pain pulsing in my chest. I had thought I could devote myself to the Falcone family, that I could win him over with my love. But now, I was just so tired of it all. It was a family with no love, a child who saw me as his mortal enemy. I stopped deluding myself. It was time to let go. But after I left, that arrogant father and son came crawling back to me like whipped dogs, begging for my forgiveness.

At my three-year anniversary dinner with Vincent Hartwell, his secretary deliberately poured red wine over my head. I finally reached my breaking point and slapped her in front of all the guests. That very night, the incident spread like wildfire through high society circles. When my mother saw the leaked bedroom photographs of the two of them, the shock triggered a heart attack. She collapsed and died on the spot. When I learned the news, I sank to the floor and cried all night. Meanwhile, Vincent stayed by his secretary's side, comforting her. When he came home, he brushed past my disheveled state without a glance, loosened his tie, and spoke in that careless tone of his. "I've already buried the story. Don't let it happen again. "I have a meeting tonight. Pull yourself together and get to the villa within thirty minutes. Madison needs you." As he walked toward the door, he added over his shoulder, "She's fragile right now because of the pregnancy. If you do anything to harm my only child, I won't forgive you." I listened without crying or arguing. However, after he left, I pulled the divorce agreement from my drawer that I had prepared weeks ago. Beneath it lay my own positive pregnancy test. 'Vincent, I'll leave to find my biological father in three days.' This time, I was really leaving. I would make sure my father paid for every grievance I had endured over the last few years.

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

Aurora is an orphaned pup, who had everything working against her since the pack she grew up in was raided. Through a happy coincidence, she and her sister were rescued by the Beta of a kind pack: the Midnight Protectors. But they are no ordinary group of werewolves. They are highly trained with special skills that make them exceptionally dangerous to any threat: but especially to vampires. When Aurora stumbles onto a mysterious cavern housing tombs, she can't possibly understand what she's unlocked. Her new pack has many secrets she has yet to understand and the biggest one is that they are housing the male destined to be her true fated mate. Javed is a thousand year old vampire stuck in the body of a seventeen year old male. His boyish good looks are incredibly misleading, no one should mistake how deadly he in fact is. And the lengths to which he would go to have his mate. Excerpt: As I leave dinner and move to walk back inside the packhouse, the cold chill from nights ago hits me. The very thing that set that fateful night in motion. The sun has just set and the air is thick with humidity. I have gotten used to this climate which is all the more reason the cold strikes me as bizarre. My eyes move to a post that sits just in front of the door, the crest of the pack is burned into it. “The Midnight Protectors; Light in the Dark.” I had seen it many times now, but never questioned its meaning. When the cold air hits my skin again, it makes me shake uncontrollably. I force my back to stiffen. “Not again,” I whisper, as I quickly move inside and go to my room. Locking the door.

Evelyn Larson's nephew, Maxwell Larson, has been staying at my home for 12 years. On top of sponsoring everything he has in life, I even view him as my own son. Heck, I'm the one who paid the down payment for Maxwell's new family home. But on the night we're having a holiday dinner, he throws me a list in front of everyone. "Uncle Lawrence, I've already hashed out the details with my fiancee's family. We'll be giving her family 700 thousand dollars as a wedding gift. You've raised me for so many years, so you need to prepare this amount for me." I frown instantly. "Didn't I just settle your down payment for you? Besides, Tiffany's about to get married soon. I need to save some money for her own wedding gift." But Maxwell instantly smashes a plate out of anger. "Since she's marrying into another family, that means she's no longer a part of this family! Are you saying that you're willing to give your money to an outsider rather than your own nephew? "If you refuse to agree to my terms, I'll make Aunt Evelyn divorce you right now!" I turn to look at Evelyn out of instinct, only to see her pulling out a gift agreement that she has already drafted. "We don't need to prepare any wedding gifts for Tiffany, seeing as she's the one marrying into another family. Max, on the other hand, is the only son of the Larson family. You should give your money to him instead."

In my previous life, my brother took his sugarbaby to see a meteor shower because she said she wanted to. He drove to the countryside with all his bodyguards to create a perfect stargazing night for her. Unfortunately, business rivals whom my brother had bankrupted saw this opportunity and broke into our estate seeking revenge. My mother fought desperately to protect me, suffering severe injuries that left her fighting for her life. I called my brother repeatedly, begging him to return quickly and help us. He finally had to come back with his security team. The intruders were captured, but then terrible news came from the countryside. His sugarbaby had left a suicide note, her fate unknown. In her letter, she accused me of deliberately drawing my brother away, causing her to be tortured by his enemies before she took her own life. My brother coldly burned her letter and told me not to worry about it. Afterward, my brother was blamed for what happened, and my father promised to put me in charge of the company. However, after the celebration dinner ended, my brother brutally murdered me in my bedroom. His face showed no emotion as he coldly said, "Someone as treacherous as you should have died long ago. "You should have been the one to die, and the family inheritance should have been mine!" I died with my eyes wide open in disbelief, and when I opened them again, I could hear our enemies breaking down the front door of our mansion.