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When a reluctant event planner Aurora Thompson is forced into marrying the ruthless billionaire mafia Alessandro De Luca to serve as a pawn in her father's game of power, she's thrown into a deadly underworld. As she navigates Alessandro's empire, she begins to unravel dark truths and hidden agendas that forces her to confront her feelings towards the captivating yet ruthless Alessandro. As she falls deeper for him, Aurora must find a way to survive the deadly games of the mafia elite without being pulled into the darkness.

Cassia’s life has been hell since the day she was born—a cursed daughter, a traitor’s spawn, and a slave to her own pack. Cast out and despised, she exists only to serve the cruel whims of those around her. And at the top of this pitiless hierarchy is Alpha Rhett, her supposed mate. Cold, calculating, and merciless, Rhett rejects her, branding her as nothing but a stain on his honor. Yet his rejection binds her to him in ways she can't escape. Rhett’s obsession with Cassia is a twisted, possessive hunger, a brutal reminder that while he may reject her, he will never let her truly go. When Cassia crosses paths with Lucian, a beta hides his cruel secrets behind a mask of kindness, she dares to hope that someone, anyone, might rescue her from Rhett’s shadow. Lucian is everything Rhett isn’t—charming, attentive, and understanding. Yet behind his smoldering gaze lies a dark intent, a loathing for Cassia that she is oblivious to. Blinded by her need for an escape, Cassia is drawn to Lucian, mistaking his carefully veiled malice for genuine love. But Rhett’s hold on her is absolute, and as his possessive jealousy flares, his twisted need to control her deepens. Cassia finds herself torn between two dangerous men—one who would destroy her in his hunger to dominate and another whose lies could lead her into ruin. Amidst a landscape of dark obsession, forbidden desires, and brutal love, Cassia must decide if she can claw her way out or fall prey to the ruthless games of those who would claim her body and soul.

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

The owner of a small company gives me an expensive bag as a gift because I want to invest in his company, yet his wife mistakes me for a homewrecker. She and her entourage crash my engagement party and trash the place. "All homewreckers need to go to hell!" "Shameless women will always be shameless. Strip her so everyone online can see what she looks like!" "Share the livestream and like it, everyone! We'll disfigure her once we hit 500 thousand likes!" Not only does my fiancé refuse to help, but he even announces that the engagement is off. "A homewrecker doesn't deserve to marry me!" I repeatedly warn them not to act rashly, but they ignore me. So, I give them each a swift punch to the gut before stepping on the perpetrator's face. Then, I call my secretary. "Tell Mr. Lane that I'm pulling out of the investment. Also, call the police and my lawyer. I've been robbed and insulted in public—I want the culprits to go to jail for this!" My fiancé regrets everything and asks me for a reconciliation, but I kick him aside. "Get lost! I'm not dumpster!"

When we were only kids, Sam Harris and I made a promise we'd marry each other if we were still single when we turned thirty. Well, my thirtieth birthday has come and gone and I'm still as single as ever. And as far as I know, so is Sam. But it's been ages since we've seen each other, and after what he did to me our senior year of college, I wouldn't put his ring on my finger even if he begged me to marry him. Never mind his devilish good looks. Or the fact that the playboy partier is a doctor now. Nope, I'm sticking to my guns with this, and when I go back to my hometown of Silver Ridge for the first time in years, I won't pay him the slightest bit of attention. Well...until he convinces me to go out for drinks to catch up. I knew it was a bad idea the moment I agreed to it. And then he brings up our childhood promise. It might be fun and games to him, but it's not to me. Because as much a I don't want to admit it, Sam has always been my first choice. And I don't want to be nothing more than his backup plan.

The year I loved Channing Waltz the most, he shattered my hopes. I remember, as I was hauled into the restroom, beaten mercilessly by strangers, there he stood, grinning like the sun itself. His face beamed with a brightness that made my heart sink. The burns from his childhood friend's curling iron marred my skin, leaving a trail of scars, and all the while, he took out his phone, snapping pictures of me in my undressed humiliation and posting them online for the world to mock. I cried, begged him to spare me, but he only laughed coldly, his voice as sharp as a blade. "You haven't even begun to suffer what my sister went through. What's the hurry?" That was when the truth hit me like a lightning strike. He had come to me, drawn me in with warmth, with affection, pretending to care—when all along, it was merely a means to an end. He had used me to set the stage to avenge his sister.

My roommate had a strange obsession with taking cold showers on the balcony. She claimed it helped detox her body and brightened her skin. I warned her, “You should be more mindful of your privacy.” However, she only laughed, accusing me of being jealous of her flawless figure. Then, disaster struck. Her shower photos were leaked online, and soon after, thugs showed up at our door, demanding to humiliate her. Instead of taking responsibility, she turned on me. “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering on the balcony!” Betrayed and defenseless, I was dragged into the woods and left to die, my life snuffed out in humiliation and pain. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day—the day my roommate took her first cold shower on the balcony.