True Confessions Novel Novels & Stories

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

After following my grandfather abroad for five years of training, he finally entrusted me with the family authority—something he had given me with complete satisfaction. But my stepmother and my three younger stepbrothers were anything but pleased. Ever since I returned home, they had been blasting those ridiculous "real heiress versus fake heiress" dramas throughout the house, day after day. Sometimes openly, sometimes in veiled remarks, they hinted that I didn't resemble my father at all. On the day of my twentieth birthday—my official debut before the public—they even brought in a complete stranger and tried to brand me as the impostor. My stepmother looked at me, the corner of her lips curling in disdain. "Where did this counterfeit come from? Even if you're wearing a stolen gown, you can't hide that cheap, shabby air about you." My three younger stepbrothers shoved me to the ground, shielding the girl beside them—the one wearing my family's heirloom necklace. "We only have one sister, and that's Camellia! Wherever you came from, go back there!" In an instant, the guests' mocking gazes all converged on me. And in the very next second, I stepped forward and slapped my stepmother across the face. "If anyone should be leaving, it's you. Take a good look at what this is!" Then, the moment they saw what I was holding in my hand, the entire room fell into stunned silence.

After I get drugged by my stepmother and gets delivered to Don Edoardo Ariani's private cruise ship, I tell her smilingly, "Oh, there's no need to take me there. I'm already home, after all." My entire family thinks that I'm hallucinating, so they start berating me angrily. "Chiara, Gina has racked up a huge gambling debt. Only Edoardo is capable of saving us now. He loves pure and innocent women like you the most. As long as you can serve him well for one night, our family will be able to tide over this crisis. "Once Gina has paid off her debt, you'll have received benefits from Edoardo as his lover. By then, we'll be able to experience what it feels like to be a billionaire!" The drugs' effects on me have yet to fade, but this family—the people whom I trust the most in this lifetime—doesn't even hesitate to drag me into the most luxurious suite of the cruise ship. No one knows that Edoardo has kneeled before me and pleaded for me to help him establish his forces in Siceria seven years ago. Tonight, my family has personally delivered me to his suite. Tomorrow, I'm pretty sure that there will be a few extra bodies floating on the sea.

When I was three years old, my twin brothers, Silas and Julian, nearly died in an explosion while trying to save me. The Vampire King happened to pass by and turned them into high-ranking vampires. He had wanted to turn me too, so our family could stay together forever, but they refused. The King's power was too overwhelming, they said-the transformation would be agonizing. So they promised to turn me themselves when I turned eighteen. They spent every last penny they had on an impossibly rare serum-a blood-calming agent that would ensure I survived the transformation safely. But six months ago, they brought home a fifteen-year-old human orphan named Elena. Silas snatched my serum and handed it to Elena, his voice cold as ice. "You're strong enough to endure the transformation on your own. Elena is far more fragile than you-she needs this more." Julian's face twisted with undisguised contempt. He pointed at the door and snarled, "Get out! Don't come back until you learn to share!" I didn't say a word. I picked up the suitcase I'd already packed and disappeared into the rainy night. They assumed I was just throwing a tantrum. They figured I'd come crawling back in a few days. To celebrate ridding themselves of their "burden," they took the orphan on a vacation to the Caribbean coast-the trip I'd been dreaming about for years. But when they returned to the castle two weeks later, they were stunned to discover that I had undergone the Vampire King's transformation personally. Not only that-I had voluntarily signed a hundred-year agreement to join a classified isolation research project studying resistance to holy silver and crucifixes. A century of solitary confinement. I was never coming back. That day, they completely fell apart.

The moment the acid hit my skin, I heard my own flesh sizzle. In the last moments before my consciousness faded, my trembling fingers managed to dial my brother, the new Don of the Steele family. To my relief, Farrow finally answered. The sounds of expensive jazz and clinking glasses bled through the receiver. His voice was cold as ice. "What is it this time, Grace?" "Farrow... help me..." He cut me off before I could finish. "Listen, Betty's book launch is tomorrow night. If you dare cause a scene or embarrass the Family, I'll disown you. I'll ship you off to a convent in Sicily." The line went dead. A moment later, a second splash of acid hit my face, and the searing agony consumed me. My eyes were gone, leaving nothing but hollow, bloody sockets. You don't need to exile me, Farrow. I'm already gone. Forever.

Asha, an orphan at a young age, is now on the brink of helplessness and despair. Would she let despair to chase her for the rest of her life? No, thus, she faces the man who wants her dead and dares to stand as a woman in the world of male chefs. She creates her own dishes and makes his father's recipes alive again. Her adventures lead to clues of her father's real killer and get entangles with love at the same time. Somehow, when she is face to face with the murderer, will she forgive or not? The Recipe of Love will show her the right decision to make.

A young widow is given one more chance at life when her life is reversed back in time using a time travel machine that had been her late husband's father's life's work, way before she was forced into an arranged marriage. But what does the new trip in time hold for her, especially when she meets her then husband in a new setting, and sees him in a different light, bearing in mind that he is already dead? And how fast is a whirlwind romance when she has to go back to her place in time to an empty bed? "You don't...look like someone who has a long time to live." I said to him, watching as his gaze became a little sad. "I guess when you live right, you don't need to."

Do you believe in destiny? How about reincarnation? Or Transmigration? Well, for Arrianne, she loves to read novel with the related genre for reincarnation and transmigration, however she did not believe in any one of them. What she believe is that she is the one who will make her own destiny. Reincarnation or Transmigration? For what? You have to do everything you can in this life for you not to regret it. All comes with her own decision. Until....it happens to her. She was reincarnated and transmigrated to a novel. She was an orphan and his family only includes the people in the orphanage. She studied hard to have a better life and to live for his passion – cooking. The last thing she remember, she was in a hotel relaxing for her upcoming competition in the “Iron Master Chef“ competition, when she found a novel inside the side table in her room. To relax, she read and she was too angry with the character of the female villain. To bend her anger, she message the publisher and when she calms down, she was able to sleep. But to her surprise, when she wakes up, she was already the woman she despise. And since she knows the ending of the villain, she needs to work hard to live. She has to change her faith. This is a second chance and she promised to find the love that her character is searching.

After my rebirth, I avoided my family and my boyfriend like the plague. When they tried to throw me a birthday party, I faked an urgent business trip to dodge it. When my parents pleaded with me to move back, I secretly bought my own house that very night. When my boyfriend popped the question, I spun on my heel and married someone else. In my previous life, my sister and I were swept away in a raging flood. By sheer luck, a jagged tree branch snagged my clothes, saving me from the depths, but my sister drowned in the merciless current. My parents, consumed by grief and rage, gripped my throat and screamed, "If it weren't for you, Andrea would still be alive!" My boyfriend acted like it was no big deal, offering half-hearted comfort before we tied the knot. But on our wedding anniversary, during a family cruise, they cornered me on the deck and shoved me overboard. "Time to taste drowning yourself!" they hissed. It turned out they had never gotten over Andrea's death. My boyfriend had never forgotten about her. When my eyes fluttered open again, I found myself back on that fateful day. This time, I vowed to live for myself, reclaiming the joy they'd stolen from me.

After reuniting with my birth family, my wealthy biological father tossed me a black card and laid down one rule: I could spend as much as I wanted, but I was never to call him Dad—that title belonged only to his adoptive daughter. Clutching the black card, I cautiously bought myself a two-dollar-fifty ice cream cone. Just as I was happily licking the sweet ice cream, the adoptive daughter dropped to her knees before me. "Alice, are you mocking me because I can't even afford something that costs two-fifty in the future?" My brother immediately slapped me twice. "You have money now, but you can't split love. Natalie is my one and only sister!" Then my father splashed boiling water onto my face. "No disgraceful wretch deserves to be a Gervais." To punish me, they sent me off to Rimala, forced to work as a child laborer in the mines. Ten years later, I walked into a grand banquet hall with an ice cream in hand and came face-to-face with my brother, Ansel Gervais, dressed in a hand-tailored suit. "All these years and you're still a disgrace," he sneered, but I couldn't be bothered to argue. "Let go. My dad's waiting for me—and if I'm any later, the ice cream's going to melt." He looked down at me with contempt. "Dad? Who gave you permission to call him that? Natalie will forever be the only Gervais girl—no one can take that away from her!" I rolled my eyes. Who said I was talking about that cheap excuse for a father? I was talking about my adoptive father—the oil tycoon with an incurable sweet tooth. I was in a hurry to let him taste some ice cream.