Zadie Smith Debut Novels & Stories

Sophia Walsh thought she had it all: a husband who loved her, a home, and the possibility of a happy family. But on her wedding anniversary, her dreams are shattered when Ryan accuses her of cheating, fueled by his conniving friend Lana. The tragedy culminates in the death of Sophia's baby, which leaves her humiliated and shattered. Just as Sophia reaches the lowest point, Landon Sullivan—a man she never expected—arrives to reveal the truth: she is the rightful heiress of the powerful Sullivan family. With a new-found strength and resources, Sophia gets ready to rise from the ashes and take revenge on the people who wronged her. But with great power comes great danger. As Sophia settles into her new identity, she must determine whether revenge is worth the cost-or if she can find peace in reclaiming her life on her terms.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

After a century of war, the three races finally reached a fragile peace. The human kingdom, the vampire noble houses, and the wolf clans signed the Covenant of Three Realms. The Royal Court would stand above the races, and only a mixed-blood royal heir would rule all three realms. When my turn came,I chose Owen, Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack. Our marriage ceremony took place on the Night of the Full Moon Oath. Owen’s foster sister, Nora, fled the Bloodmoon territory after the rite. She crossed beyond the pack’s borders and ran straight into a hunter’s silver trap laid in the forest. The silver tore through her wolf spirit. She died there before anyone could reach her. When Owen arrived, he did not rage. He simply carried her body back to the pack lands and performed the ancient wolf burial rites with his own hands. After that night, he continued to play the role of the perfect mate. But the night I gave birth to our hybrid child, he drove a blade through my throat, his eyes filled with hatred. His voice was filled with cold hatred. “If your bloodline weren’t the only one capable of producing a ruler for the three realms, I would never have married you.” “Nora would never have fled the pack lands. She would never have died in a hunter’s trap. My first child would still be alive.” Pain swallowed everything. When I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day the king ordered me to choose between the vampire houses and the wolf clans.

Elena Rossi married Victor Moretti, the most feared mafia Don in the underground world. For three years, he treated her like a queen. Everyone said the ruthless Don was madly in love with his wife. Elena believed them. Until the night everything fell apart. At a family banquet, Elena was drugged. When she begged Victor to stay with her, he simply told his guards to take her to the hospital—then left to meet her sister. In that moment, the love Elena had once been so proud of shattered. She soon learned the cruel truth: Victor had married her only because he believed she was the woman who once saved his life. And now that the “real” savior had appeared—her sister—Elena had become nothing more than a mistake. So Elena made her choice. She quietly arranged everything, had Victor unknowingly sign the divorce papers, and disappeared from his world—carrying his unborn child. Only after she was gone did Victor realize. The woman he thought he married out of gratitude had long become the one he could not live without. The woman who had saved his life years ago had been Elena all along—only she had been injured back then and lost that part of her memory. By the time the truth came to light, Elena was already gone. The cold-blooded mafia Don who once controlled the entire underworld finally lost control.

I joined the Order of Valhalla Bridge because it was simple; they get the jobs; they send you your assignment, and once completed you get paid. That's exactly how this assignment was supposed to go. Just somewhere along the way, the web became so tangled. One slip messed up everything, now my target has turned into the hunter, intent on making me his prey. Determined to take what he thinks is his. Why would he think I was his Bride? They ordered my team to track him down, recover what was stolen, and kill him. Yet I reacted to his touch. If The Order found out, I would be dishonored. Now I am stuck between a possessive Alpha obsessed with a new toy, a vampire who thinks me his bride and a Berserker intent on winning me. What could possibly go wrong?

Lyra Vayne, daughter of Alpha Thorne of the Stormfall Pack, was raised on one truth, the Bloodline Pack is the enemy. Their wolves are killers, their Alpha ruthless, and any wolf who crosses their path is expected to be killed without hesitation. Lyra has never questioned this; hatred is easier than doubt, and loyalty is survival. But everything Lyra believes begins to unravel the day she encounters Talia Blackthorn, the Bloodpine Alpha’s daughter. Instead of violence, Lyra finds a girl as restless and lonely as she is. Against every law and instinct, the two form a secret friendship… one that would be catastrophic if discovered. Their fragile bond is shattered when the Rogue Dominion ambushes them. Forced to fight for their lives, Lyra is stunned when Alpha Kaelan Blackthorn, Talia’s father and Stormfall’s sworn enemy, arrives to save them. His presence is cold, commanding, and impossible to ignore. And when Lyra meets his eyes, something inside her shifts in a way she cannot explain. She tries to avoid him, but fate has other plans. Again and again, Lyra and Kaelan cross paths, during border patrols, rogue attacks, and moments neither can justify. Their connection deepens into something dangerous, something forbidden. To be seen together would mean treason. To act on their bond could ignite a catastrophic war. It could destroy everything they love. But as the Rogue Dominion grows stronger, threatening to destroy both packs, Lyra and Kaelan may be the only ones capable of stopping the coming darkness… if they can survive the fire between them and the risks it holds.

“Any conversation we're going to be having is going to be in the four corners of my wall and after that, I'd love and appreciate it if you forgot my name, home address and social security number— if you have that, of course.” “Cute,” he laughs and then winces when I open the drink can with a pop. I raise a brow at him, urging him to continue and then take a sip of my drink as I wait patiently. “ Contrary to what you may think, I'm not here to hurt you or whatever it is you're thinking —” “No shit.” “I'm here to offer you a deal. One I know you wouldn't be able to refuse.” “Sure, Professor Xavier.” This is getting fun and it's the most fun I've had in a few days. “Marry me.” ********** I had a one night stand with a handsome, enigmatic stranger. It was drunk decision; one I promised myself never to indulge in. Putting aside my regret, I continue with life and the trials it keeps throwing my way. As a girl used to surprises, what I don't expect is seeing this stranger from months ago at my doorstep and offering me a deal I can't seem to refuse: a marriage contract in exchange for my biggest wishes to be fulfilled.

The day I won the eight-million-dollar East Harbor renovation bid, I handed the lead role to Grace Whitman, Ethan Hale’s childhood sweetheart. Ethan thought I had finally learned to be sensible. He happily told me he was taking me to the Maldives for our wedding anniversary. Grace found out that night. She pretended the pressure from work was too much and cried uncontrollably. Ethan panicked so badly that he canceled a board meeting, stayed with her for three days, then called our anniversary trip an emergency client visit and gave Grace the second ticket. When he called me, his tone was still calm, almost entitled. “Sofia, we can talk about emotional stuff later. The company comes first right now. Grace has never handled a project this big on her own. I need to be there with her.” “You’re my wife. You should understand.” I sat alone in our empty apartment and looked at the photo Grace had just posted. In the private airport lounge, Ethan had draped his jacket over her shoulders. Their knees almost touched. Her caption read, [Some people never have to say love. They just show up first, every time.] I didn’t question him. I didn’t cry. I only replied, [Okay.] Ethan probably thought I had finally learned my place. Satisfied, he promised that when he came back, he would give me an even better anniversary. What he didn’t know was that I had already submitted my resignation to Hale Creative. And he didn’t know that the document he had signed three days ago wasn’t a project authorization form. It was our divorce agreement. By the time he realized what he had lost, I was no longer Mrs. Hale. I was Sofia Bellandi again. And Bellandi women do not beg for seats at tables they built.