The Never Hero

Four years of marriage. One signature—his own—that set me free, though he never realized what he was signing. I was Sophia Moretti, the invisible wife of James Moretti, heir to the city’s most powerful mafia family. But when his childhood sweetheart, the dazzling and privileged Vicky, returned, I finally understood: I had always been temporary. So I played my final move. I slid the papers across his desk—divorce disguised as routine university forms. James signed without a second glance, his fountain pen scratching across the page as carelessly as he'd treated our vows, without noticing he was ending our marriage. But I walked away with more than my freedom. Beneath my coat, I carried his unborn heir—a secret that could destroy him when he finally realized what he'd lost. Now, the man who never noticed me is tearing the world apart trying to find me. From his penthouse to the underworld's gutters, he's turning over every stone. But I'm not some trembling prey waiting to be found. I rebuilt myself beyond his reach—where not even a Moretti can follow. This time, I won't be begging for his love. He'll be begging for mine.

After being betrayed by her stepsister and cast out by the people she once called family, Olivia is banished from her pack, stripped of her title, her home, and her dignity. Now, she’s being forced into marriage with Ryan Blackwood, a cold, crippled billionaire who makes it clear he doesn’t want her and vows to make her life miserable. As if that isn’t enough, she’s lost her wolf… and gained weight she can’t explain. But fate has other plans. As buried secrets begin to surface and unexpected sparks ignite between them, Olivia finds herself caught between a dangerous past that refuses to die and a love she never saw coming. Now, torn between revenge, desire, and destiny, Olivia must decide where her heart and her future truly belong.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

When I was five months pregnant, I was kidnapped by a group of thugs. They used my phone to call my brother, Jeremy Wirkola, and my husband, Grant Sanders, to demand a ransom of ten million, but no one answered. I was tortured and assaulted until I was barely alive. When I was finally rescued, Jeremy cried and promised to avenge me. Grant was in tears too. He vowed to get me treated. However, while under the haze of anesthesia, I overheard Grant's cold voice outside the door. “Jessie is waiting for a bone marrow, but don’t forget to remove Ashlyn’s uterus. Just tell her the injuries were too severe to save it. Oh, and get the best surgeon for her. She’s afraid of pain.” His assistant hesitated. He was clearly uncomfortable. “Mr. Sanders, isn’t this going too far?” Grant paused for a second before he replied firmly. “She refused to donate her bone marrow to Jessie and even used the baby as an excuse. She’s selfish. Besides, if we don’t do this, how can I bring back Jessie and our child into the family? As for Ashlyn, she’s my wife. I’ll make it up to her for the rest of my life. She used to bully Jessie with her status, which resulted in Jessie suffering from depression and almost killing herself. It’s time she paid the price for it.” As I listened to his heartless words, something inside me shattered completely. Since they had chosen to sacrifice me for Jessie, let them have what they wanted then.

Arielle Santos 24 years old never imagined that her life would be written for her — even her love story. She was raised in a modest family, a dreamer who painted her hopes in colors only she could see. But one evening, her world collapsed when her parents revealed the truth: to save their family from bankruptcy, she had to marry the son of their business partner — Evan Monteverde, the 28 years old, cold and distant heir of one of the country’s most powerful companies. Evan didn’t believe in love. To him, emotions were distractions — weaknesses that could ruin a man. He had long promised himself never to trust feelings again after being betrayed by someone he once loved. So when his father announced his arranged marriage with a woman he barely knew, he didn’t protest for love’s sake — only to end the endless lectures about “duty” and “family legacy.” Their wedding day was perfect — at least in the eyes of the guests. But behind the veil and the smiles, two strangers stood at the altar, reciting vows they didn’t mean. The words “I do”echoed in the church, but neither of them truly did. After the ceremony, they made a deal — they would live together for one year, play their roles for the sake of appearances, and then quietly separate. No love. No expectations. Just peace. But peace was harder to keep than they thought.

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding." The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot. Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

I loved Adriano Ferraro—yeah, that Don—for five freaking years. He wasn't just my fiancé; he was my anchor in a world where loyalty got tested, and weakness got you killed. We had it all mapped out—dreams, plans, a future we actually thought we owned. Until I lost our baby. I reached for him, shaking, desperate for anything. But comfort never came. Instead, it was her. His stepsister, propped up. "Don't buy her act. She's just fishing for attention—again." That snake smiled like she just won a prize for emotional torture, dripping venom while fanning the flames. And Adriano? He bought it. He turned away. In that moment, it hit me—I wasn't just grieving. I was completely alone. The kid I carried, the future I built in my head? Gone. And so was I. I walked out. On him. On the Ferraro Family I was stupid enough to think I could belong to. All I left behind was silence. Empty space where we used to be. Now Adriano's drowning in regret, but it's too damn late. The life we should've had, the love we should've built? Dust. And her? The stepsister who ruined it all? She's paying for every lie.

At the reunion, someone asked when I was getting married. Grinning, I pulled out the invites. "Mid-October. Be there." Cheers broke out. Everyone peeked at the girl next to me. "You've been with Daphne forever, right? Finally making it official?" Daphne hurled her drink at me. "Ethan Everett, is this your idea of pressuring me into marriage?" The room froze. I wiped my face, cool as ever, and opened the invite in front of her. "Maybe check the name. It doesn't say you're the bride."