rage addiction fanfiction

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” ~ William Congreve Aretha Hawthorne has loved and dedicated her whole life to her husband out of pure love and loyalty and to her foster family out of gratitude for having taken her in at her lowest. However, on a day that’s supposed to be the happiest one of her life, she never could have predicted that the same people she loved so dearly would plot such evil against her. Publicly humiliated, heartbroken and also suffering from the loss of her unborn child, Aretha is filled with a deep hatred and an immense rage when she discovers that she’d been played and made a complete fool out of for years by her husband and her foster family. Aretha seeks revenge but knowing that she can’t go against both famous families on her own, especially not with her name still being sullied by the media, she is forced to flee the country to recoup. However, no one expects the disgraced Aretha to return a year later with a fortune that greatly supersedes those of her ex-husband’s family and foster family combined. And even more surprising, she appears to have garnered the attention of neither one nor two but three of the most eligible billionaire bachelors of the United Kingdom, who appear to have become completely smitten by her. Let the game of vengeance begin…

‘He was going to reject me.’ My stomach twisted violently. Why had I thought this was a good idea? My palms grew clammy around the ring, my mind screaming at me to retreat, to salvage what little dignity I had left. ‘What kind of person pulls a stunt like this?!’ My own voice taunted me mercilessly. ‘This is it, Claire. Game over.’ But instead of the anticipated rejection, Giancarlo reached out—his hand brushing mine, sending a jolt up my arm as he plucked the ring from my fingers. The motion was fluid, deliberate, like he’d done it before—and then… “I do,” he said simply, his voice steady as he slid the ring onto his finger yh with mad confidence. ~~~ Claire Bennett’s perfect Valentine’s Day proposal ends in a disaster when she catches her boyfriend with another woman. In a fit of rage, she forces an engagement ring onto the finger of the first man she sees—a suave and mysterious passerby who shocks her by playing along. But Claire’s spur-of-the-moment fiancé isn’t just anyone. He’s Giancarlo Fiore Caruso—her ex’s boss and the ruthless CEO of her company. A fake engagement, a trip to the Maldives, and an undeniable connection soon turn her spur-of-the-moment decision into something she can’t control. Sparks of desire fly despite their stark differences, and attraction simmers just beneath the layers of deception. But will Claire’s impulsive decision mark the beginning of something real—or a recipe for heartbreak?

Anna Bateman Everyone fears Roman Petrov, a rich, handsome Mafia boss and ends up in his hotel room due to some unforeseen circumstances. He's my first client but he won't believe that. My life used to be simple until it wasn't when my fathers shady deals caught up with him and destroyed my family. Roman Petrov The rules of my world. There's no room for errors, no tolerance for liars. I'm a possessive man, she knew before she stepped into my world and I won't be satisfied until I have all of her. We should have parted ways after one night but she became and addiction I couldn't seem to shake. She is a goddess wrapped in all my maddest temptation. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a spark threatening to explode inside me for her.

Parce que la fille de son premier amour avait été enfermée dans la voiture et avait succombé à un coup de chaleur, mon père, dans un accès de rage irrationnelle, m’a attachée et enfermée dans le coffre de la voiture. Ses yeux, dénués de toute pitié, se sont posés sur moi avec un dégoût palpable. « Je n’ai pas de fille aussi vile que toi », m’a-t-il lancé, « reste ici et paie le prix de ta faute ! » Je l’ai supplié de me pardonner, ma seule requête étant de pouvoir respirer l’air frais à nouveau. Mais sa réponse était aussi glaciale que l’acier : « Personne ne peut la laisser sortir à moins qu’elle ne soit morte. » La voiture, garée dans l’obscurité du garage, offrait un silence lourd. Pendant des heures, puis des jours, mes appels désespérés se perdaient dans l’indifférence totale du monde extérieur, ne pouvant pas percer l’épaisse solitude de cet endroit. Le temps s’est étiré dans une lente torture, et ce n’est qu’au septième jour que mon père, enfin, s’est souvenu que, malgré tout, j’étais sa fille. Mais il ignorait alors que j’étais déjà morte, engloutie par l’obscurité de ce coffre, mon âme éteinte à jamais...

Mariée depuis sept ans, j’attendais enfin mon premier enfant. Mais mon mari doutait de ma fidélité et refusait de croire que le bébé était de lui. Furieuse, j’ai demandé un test de paternité. Avant même que les résultats ne tombent, il s’est présenté chez mes parents, brandissant une photo compromettante. Ma lingerie avait été retrouvée chez son ami. « Sale traînée ! Non seulement tu m’as trompé, mais tu voulais me faire élever l’enfant d’un autre ? Meurs ! » Fou de rage, il a frappé ma mère avec un fouet jusqu’à l’évanouissement, puis m’a rouée de coups jusqu’à me faire perdre mon bébé. Quand les résultats sont arrivés, il a découvert la vérité. À genoux, en larmes, il a supplié pour le retour de l’enfant qu’il venait de tuer.