The Good Left Undone Novels & Stories

Mature content “Open your legs, princess.” “Why?” “Because I’m going to eat this pussy until you’re crying and begging me to fuck you.” She shivered. “And then?” “Then I’ll flip you over, slide my cock in, and ruin you until you’re dripping down your thighs and moaning my name like a prayer.” Violet never imagined she’d become nothing more than a substitute in her four-year relationship. But ever since his childhood sweetheart returned, she’s been the second choice. The final blow was when two of them fell into the pool, he didn’t hesitate, he saved her instead. Left to drown, Violet was pulled from the water by a mysterious stranger, who now wants nothing more than to have her in his bed. Too bad that stranger turns out to be her boyfriend’s father, Hades Sinclair

After a painful breakup under the rain-soaked night, Nova vows to reclaim her life. Transformed and fearless, she returns to school only to find herself tangled between her ruthless ex, Jace, and the mysterious, golden-eyed newcomer, Ryder—whose dark secrets could either protect her or destroy everything. But when threatening messages surface, and a tangled web of blackmail and betrayal pulls Nova deeper into danger, she must navigate a treacherous game of trust, heartbreak, and revenge. With the enigmatic Ryder by her side—his fierce protectiveness hiding painful truths—Nova fights to expose the real enemy lurking in the shadows. In a world where love and deception collide, will Nova survive the storm, or be consumed by it?

I spent five years helping my boyfriend Marco rise to the position of Don. I nearly died countless times, but I didn't care; I loved him. He used to look at me tenderly and promised to propose to me publicly at his Don succession ceremony. But on that very day, he held the hand of another Mafia Principessa Sophia Romano and announced their engagement. To completely get rid of me, Sophia pulled a stack of photos from her bag and slammed them into my face. "See for yourself! She's been sleeping around to get intel!" In the picture, I was leaning into a man's arms. I tried to explain, but Marco interrupted me. "I always knew you were lowborn, but I didn't realize you were this cheap." "Get out!" Marco pointed at the door. "Elena, you are exiled from the family. Never let me see you again." I finally saw this man for who he truly was. He was completely subservient to me when he needed my help to seize territory, but after becoming the Godfather, he needed a more distinguished Donna, and therefore no longer needed me. I sneered; they had no idea that the man in the picture was my brother, the Don of the most powerful Corleone family. Sophia’s family was nothing compared to the Corleone family. I stopped arguing and simply turned and left. But when my true identity was finally exposed, he crawled back to me, weeping and begging for my forgiveness.

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.

Three years ago, my husband’s brother took a bullet for him. So Gwen brought his brother's widow, Eliza, into our home. I was the Donna in name only. I had to step aside for Eliza in everything. Once, Eliza faked slitting her wrists. She said I drove her to it. Gwen grabbed my throat. Murder flashed in his eyes. "Get out. The Falcone family has no place for a venomous bitch like you." He gave her the family's art foundation to "make it up to her." It was supposed to be mine. This time, I said nothing. He was signing a stack of business contracts. I just slipped the divorce papers in with them. A few days later, he noticed I wasn't home. He searched all over Chicago. He couldn't find me. That's when he saw the divorce decree. He finally understood. I was gone. For good. That day, the untouchable king of the Chicago Outfit… shattered.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

Knox Callahan, Crestwood High golden boy and hockey captain… my biggest tormentor. All it had taken was one clumsy spill in biology class to make me his favourite target. And there is no escaping him, no matter how hard I fight back. Then the decision that changed everything came. "Annalise, I got married. We are moving," mom said. And the new house? It turned out to be Knox's. Because somehow, while I was busy surviving him, his father had been out there and managed to steal my mother's heart before secretly marrying her. And now the boy who made my life hell was now my stepbrother but there is nothing remotely brotherly about the way Knox looks at me. Or even the way his hands would slide up my skin each time he was near me. It is quite hard… keeping up appearances and pretending the tension suffocating every room that we both happened to step into doesn't exist. The more we share the same space, the harder it becomes to remember why I should stay the fuck away from my new stepbrother. And Knox? He doesn’t even try.. He corners me and touches me at every opportunity in ways that can never be mistaken for anything innocent. The darkness I once feared resided inside of him begins to feel dangerously like something I really crave. But I am a good girl. And good girls shouldn't want their stepbrothers. Yet I am running out of reasons to resist.

My Alpha fiancé made me drink a witch's memory potion on our mating ceremony day so he could bond with my stepsister instead. "Serena is under a vicious curse. Only bonding with a powerful Alpha can break it." "Aria, you're the only one I love. I don't want to hurt you, so if you drink this memory potion, you'll temporarily forget the person you love most. Once I help Serena break her curse, you can take the antidote and recover your memories." "Then I'll break the bond with Serena and make you the most honored Luna of our pack." I didn't hesitate. I drank the entire vial in one gulp. But he didn't know the witch never created a corresponding antidote. In seven days, I would forget him forever.

Three months after Pete took his foster sister as his mistress, I terminated my marriage, chose to die on paper, and vanished from his life entirely. One quiet morning, I handed my child over to the nannies arranged by the family and walked out of the Rizzuto estate alone. Pete didn’t chase after me that day. He believed I would come back. Once I had calmed down, I would lower my head. The following spring, I was diagnosed with cancer. Standing in the hospital corridor, I suddenly remembered years ago— Pete had taken my hand and said, “You’ll be the finest Donna this Rizzuto family has ever had.” What pulled me back was not Pete. It was a letter from Sicily. Thin paper. Cold, rigid handwriting—the kind favored by old families who had ruled too long to bother with sentiment. “The heir has begun showing signs of emotional instability.” “Recent violent behavior has caused internal concern.” “There is disagreement within the family regarding the current Don’s judgment.” In the mafia world, there is only one reason the elders would bypass a man and reach out to a wife officially presumed dead— When the family itself begins to lose balance. So I returned. To the place I had once fled with everything I had. This time, there were no illusions. I no longer placed any hope in emotion. I was there only to fulfill the obligations of the family. I knew exactly how much time I had left. And I knew exactly what needed to be done. I became a proper Donna.

On the day of my wedding with Hannah Hawkes, her first love, Lucas Tate, sends his critical notice to her. He mentions that he wants to wear a wedding tuxedo one last time at a wedding before his death. In order to fulfill Lucas' wish, Hannah locks me up in a lounge and gets ready to attend the wedding with him. Her impatient voice echoes outside the door. "Why are you so cold-blooded? Lucas is about to die, you know! What's the harm in letting him have his way?" Some time after that, Freya Jensen, the young woman who lives next door, gets up to the rooftop and begs me to marry her. With red-rimmed eyes, Hannah asks pleadingly, "Are you going to give up on our seven-year relationship because of her?" I merely slap her hand away. "Am I supposed to watch Freya die? It's just a marriage registration. Stop being cold-blooded, will you?"