Attack On Titan Fanfic

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

Even the street punks knew that in Chicago, Catherine Leone was untouchable. I had three deadly protectors watching my back. My husband, Raphael Falcone, was the youngest underboss in the Chicago Outfit. He was known for his cold, iron-fisted rule, yet in a crowded room, he would kneel to adjust the hem of my gown. My childhood friend, Luca Vizzini, the family's brilliant new consigliere. He'd sworn to protect me since we were kids. And my twin brother, Salvatore Leone, who cherished me above all else. He took over the family at eighteen and treated me like royalty, making me the most envied Principessa in the underworld. On my twenty-eighth birthday, I waited in the living room all day, clutching a pregnancy test with two solid lines, ready to share the news that would change everything. Instead, they brought me my brother's body, murdered by a drug dealer hailed as a hero. And standing before me was my husband, Raphael Falcone, ready to clear the murderer's name. "Tell me why," A scream clawed at my throat, but I fought it down, "You know damn well who the murderer is." "Catherine, control yourself." It was Luca Vizzini, my childhood friend, who tied my hands. "Salvatore's gone, but you still have us. You're still Mrs. Falcone, still the Principessa of the Leone family." "The Leones have looked after Chiara for years. You know her father is all she has." They wanted me to confess to my brother’s fabricated crimes and apologize to Chiara. But they forget. Before I was Raphael's wife, I was Catherine Leone. A master hacker who could breach any system. I will deliver my own justice in ways they cannot imagine. And I will make them regret it.

For our seventh anniversary, my mate, Alpha Ethan, sent my daughter and me to the Moon Goddess Altar. He told me it was a surprise—to give our daughter her dream of watching a meteor shower from the highest peak in the territory. But Ethan never came. The protective runes at my feet sputtered, then died. The ground beneath us began to crumble. My daughter screamed, her small body sliding toward the abyss. I lunged, grabbing her hand just before she went over the edge. I screamed his name through our mind-link. Ninety-nine times, he refused to answer. On my hundredth cry, the link didn't just open—it was ripped wide. It wasn’t his voice that answered. It was his senses, flooding mine. I saw it all. Him. Another she-wolf. And him, buried deep inside of her. "I knew you loved me, Ethan," her sickly-sweet voice purred. "You even sacrificed Marcus, just to save our Leo from the soul-sickness. I'll do anything for you." Ethan’s voice was velvet and ice. "Stop. If Sera hadn't betrayed me, you never would have had the chance to carry my heir. Once I get rid of her other pup—Jullian's bastard—we can be perfect again." My world shattered. My son... Rogues. I'd always believed rogues had stolen him. But it was his own father. He sacrificed him for a lie. With my last ounce of strength, I called Julian. "I'm breaking my bond with Ethan," I snarled into the new link. "Make me your Luna. In return, I will help you burn his pack to the ground."

Damian, my destined partner, is the alpha that all wolf girls dream of. For him, I went alone to the North, his pack. But for three years after we signed the contract, he remained chaste, staying at least three feet away from me, refusing to mate with me. I thought he was just busy with the affairs of the wolf pack and had no time to care about me. Until I stumbled upon Damian pinning Lyra, his sister, against a rough tree trunk, his mouth savagely devouring her lips like a wild beast. "You know I long for you, Lyra!" he roared. "Why did you force that boring Selena on me?!" At last I understood. The only person he truly loved was Lyra. He hurt me again and again for Lyra, and even when we were trapped in the forest and almost swallowed by the shadow plague, he ran away with Lyra in his arms without looking back. "Whether Selena can escape or not has nothing to do with me. You are the most important person in my world!" I was heartbroken, but he wanted to complete the final mark with me because of guilt. He didn't know that I had already dripped my heart's blood on the moonstone the day I found out about his affair with Lyra. Our mate bond had been completely broken long ago.

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

Every witch awakened a gift when she came of age. Mine was simple. I could siphon my husband's fortune. On Christmas Eve, my husband spent 20,000,000 on a ring and proposed to his mistress as if he were buying a headline. The trending page exploded. Everyone waited to see how quickly I would be thrown out. The pathetic wife was finally swept out the door. When I stayed quiet, Jasper Prescott's tone turned playful, almost indulgent. "She's just a kid. She wanted the whole 'moment.' Your place isn't going anywhere." Then he added, as if assigning me a chore, "She's young. She can't handle things. Pay more attention to the engagement party's details." As though he feared I might cause trouble, he slid a black card across the table with casual ease. "Babe, you know what I value most," he said. "You being sensible." I pinched the cold card between my fingers, smiled, and nodded. No one knew the rule hidden inside our marriage. After we married, every time Jasper betrayed me, I took a piece of his fortune, stripping it from him one point at a time and adding it to my own. Once Christmas was over, I would take whatever he had left.

In my past life, I supported the bankrupt Clark brothers. However, after I became pregnant, they allowed a poor student, Kimberly Scott, to push me down the stairs, where I bled profusely and died while carrying my child. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day I had brought them into my house. This time, I kicked them out without hesitation. To my surprise, Kimberly had teamed up with my grandmother to pretend to be the real heiress, painting me as the fake heiress who had taken over the family. The butler, Mr. Williams, who had watched me grow up, came forward and accused me of causing my parents’ death. Under the public backlash they had orchestrated, I remained calm and presented my evidence. Not only did I expose Kimberly’s fake identity as the heiress, but I also revealed the true faces of my grandmother and Mr. Williams. I avenged my parents and gave the wrongdoers the punishment they deserved.

"Miss Elara, this confirms the arrangement for your 'staged death.' In two weeks, at the Luna coronation ceremony, your death will be staged." "You will fall into the rapids, and the cause will be poisoning by wolfsbane." When my Alpha mate, Aiden, abandoned me again for "urgent pack business," I found a rogue on the black market and signed the staged death agreement without a second thought. The entire werewolf world believed Alpha Aiden was madly in love with me. He certainly played the part, never forgetting to kiss my forehead every time he left. But only I knew that for the thirty-ninth time he kissed me, he had also spent the night lost in a drunken haze with that Omega model, Cassia. But none of that mattered anymore. A tainted Alpha, I was done with him. At the coronation he treasured most, I would ensure he received the most perfect corpse.