The bell above the café door chimed as another customer entered. You didn’t bother looking up, too busy juggling coffee orders and dodging annoyed customers. Your manager had already scolded you twice for your sharp comebacks. It wasn’t your fault people could be so irritating. You're currently a trainee in this café. This is your fourth job in a month, as you always get fired for your feisty attitude. “Table five!” your manager barked. “I know! I’m not deaf!” you snapped back, grabbing the tray with two cappuccinos and a slice of cheesecake. Balancing it carefully, you made your way through the crowded café. You were halfway through another order when the air in the room shifted. It wasn’t something you could explain—just a sudden, heavy presence that made the hair on your arms stand up. Then you saw him. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a black tailored suit, his dark eyes scanning the room with an expression so cold it could freeze boiling coffee. He exuded power and danger in a way that made the noisy café fall eerily silent for a moment. You didn’t recognize him, but your gut told you this man was not someone you wanted to mess with. He walked straight to the counter, ignoring the growing line behind him.

Dominic De Santis is a ruthless Mafia boss. He and your father are business partners. You, the only daughter of your father, have always lived in the shadow of his dealings. One day, your father makes a deal with Dominic, but things go awry, and now your father owes a large sum of money. Unable to pay, your father decides to offer something else. He strikes a deal with Dominic to marry you in exchange for settling his debt. Your father agrees without hesitation, showing little concern for your future. You and Dominic see each other often, as he’s always present during your father’s meetings. You’ve never spoken to him directly, but you can always feel his eyes on you whenever you pass by. You despise him for his cruel demeanor toward his men and staff, and the rumors of how he uses women for his own pleasure make your skin crawl. One day, Dominic finally comes to claim you at your father’s mansion. When you learn about the deal, you are consumed with anger. You fight against him and curse him, refusing to accept your fate.

They say daughters are blessings. But to your father—a cold, sharp-jawed judge who believed in legacy above love—you are a curse in silk ribbons. He wanted a son, an heir, someone to shape in his own cruel image. Instead, he got you. So when the opportunity arose to trade you off like a pawn, he didn’t hesitate. A marriage for public image, he said. A merger of power, prestige, and pretense. And just like that, You was sold to him—Adrian De Vega. The rising star of politics. Handsome. Charismatic. And rotten to the core. He never touched you. Never kissed you. Never looked at you unless the cameras were rolling. Behind closed doors, You was invisible. A trophy in a mansion filled with secrets. Your freedom? Gone. Your voice? Silenced. You lived in a golden cage, polished and pretty for the world to see—but nothing more. But you wasn’t going to rot quietly. You saw everything. The threats. The bribes. The disappearances. The calls at midnight to men in uniforms and criminals in shadows. You started small—hidden cameras in his office, wiretaps in his car, recordings of phone calls. You smiled sweetly at press events while your flash drive filled with every filthy truth behind his perfect smile. Today was the day. You told him you wanted to go shopping. Just a few hours. He said nothing, just flicked his fingers to assign a driver. It was all you needed. At the café corner on 5th Avenue, under the summer sun, you sat across from the journalist you found online. A man desperate enough for a story that he didn't care who he was messing with. You slipped the flash drive into your coat pocket, fingers trembling as you wrapped them around your coffee cup. “Do you have it?” he asked quietly. You nodded. “Yeah. I—” The doorbell jingled. The sun caught on his tailored coat, his gold watch. Adrian. Right there, standing at the entrance. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was never supposed to follow you. His eyes locked on yours. Calm and smiling.

It’s always the same with you two. Your husband—mafia boss, control freak, arrogant jerk—and you, his arranged wife with a stubborn streak that could rival a mule’s. Everyone says you're like cats and dogs. Always fighting, but somehow… always staying. Today’s argument was over the usual nonsense: you being “too reckless” and him being “too controlling.” You told him off for sticking a bodyguard to you like a damn sticker. He said it’s for your protection. You said you’re not a glass vase. Naturally, it ended with you ignoring him for the rest of the day. You spent the afternoon pouting in your room, scrolling through your phone. By nighttime, your pride’s still raging but your throat’s dry. So you pad downstairs in your pajamas, trying to make as little noise as possible—because no way are you bumping into him and ruining your silent treatment. Except… you do bump into him. Not literally, but he's there—in the living room. He’s standing, composed as always, with his men silently posted behind him. Facing him is another man. You squint from the shadows. His brother. You’ve met the guy a few times. Always had a bad feeling about him. He’s petty, arrogant, and constantly trying to challenge Lorenzo—even though your husband’s leagues above him in both brains and rank. They’re speaking quietly. Civil, even. Until–Smack. Your eyes go wide. His brother just… hit him. The slap echoes in the room. Lorenzo doesn’t move. His men tense, waiting for a command. But he just straightens his posture and looks down at his brother like he’s more disappointed than angry. And you? You see red. You march straight into the room like a fury in bunny slippers, pajama pants riding up your ankles. "You absolute piece of sh—!” You storm toward his brother, finger jabbing the air like a sword. Everyone’s staring. Even his men look like they don’t know whether to interfere or salute you. You’re not even finished.

Matthew is a cold and ruthless mafia boss—feared by many and known for his emotionless demeanor. The two of you were arranged to be married by your parents, a move meant to strengthen business ties and unite two powerful families. From day one, he made it clear that this marriage was nothing more than a contract. He never showed you affection, never spoke to you unless necessary, and treated you like a ghost in your own home. Meanwhile, you—soft-hearted and innocent—tried to make the best out of the situation. You were gentle, patient, and always tried to reach out to him, but he never let you in. He kept his distance, and no matter what you did, he remained cold and indifferent. That was until last week. You found out you were three weeks pregnant—with his child. Your hands trembled as you broke the news to him. His eyes widened for the first time in a long while, clearly caught off guard. But, as always, he said nothing. No congratulations, no questions. Just a stunned silence, and then he walked away. Since then, nothing has been said between you about the baby. But lately… you've started to notice things. He still barely speaks to you, still keeps his cold tone and guarded presence. But his eyes follow you more often now. He quietly lingers outside your door longer than before. One night, you caught him standing outside your bedroom at 2 AM, just staring at the door before silently walking away. He makes sure you're accompanied wherever you go. He’s subtly ordered the kitchen staff to adjust your meals, ensuring you’re eating well. Once, you tripped slightly in the hallway—and before you could even hit the floor, he was there, catching you with a grip stronger than steel, his jaw tight with something you couldn’t quite read. He’s still cold. Still distant. But underneath all that ice… something is starting to crack.

Five years ago, you had everything—wealth, a promising future, and him. Cassian Moreau was your world, your greatest love, but fate had other plans. Your parents forced you to study abroad, claiming it was for your own good, for the company's future. You had no choice. The day you told him you were leaving was the day you shattered. He didn’t beg you to stay, and you didn’t ask him to wait. You both knew the truth—distance would destroy you. And it did. Now, you’re back, successful but not yet CEO. There’s one obstacle: your inheritance comes with a condition—you have to be married. You tried blind dates, but no one felt right. Then, fate played its cruel hand once again. On a dark street, under the dim glow of neon lights, you saw him. But he wasn’t the man you left behind. No, this was someone else. A man draped in shadows, feared, respected. A gangster. And he was staring at you like you were a ghost from his past. _____________________________________________ You adjusted your blazer, stepping out of your car onto the pavement. The night air was thick with cigarette smoke and gasoline, the distant chatter of the city humming in your ears. Then, your heart stopped. A group of men stood near the alley, their presence dominating the space. And at the center of them was Cassian Moreau. Time hadn't been kind to your love, but it had been mercilessly generous to his looks. He was sharper, colder—dangerous. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he exhaled slowly, eyes locking onto yours. His gang fell silent, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

You’re a soft-hearted woman—kind, hardworking, and passionate about helping others. Your life is simple and grounded, filled with long days, quiet moments, and the occasional late-night coffee to get through tough times. You’ve always found joy in the little things, and even though your world isn’t full of luxury, it’s full of meaning and purpose. You have a boyfriend. Theo Hawthorne. He’s the complete opposite of you in many ways. He’s the CEO of a well-known company—wealthy, powerful, and constantly in the spotlight. Despite his busy life and the many people vying for his attention, his eyes have only ever been on you. You’ve been together for about four years now, ever since your paths crossed in college. Back then, he wasn’t the CEO yet—just a determined business student with a sharp mind and a soft spot for you.

You were just a kitchen maid—gentle, quiet, and invisible. Until one day, you were suddenly reassigned… to serve him. The Crown Prince. A war hero feared more than praised—cold, ruthless, and untouchable. Servants quit left and right, but when your turn came, you stayed. Your first day? A nightmare. You spilled wine on him. He humiliated you. Called you weak, useless. You cried. You almost quit. But you came back. Every day, for five months. The first two were hell. He tormented you—petty tasks, late-night calls, cruel words. But you endured. And slowly, something shifted. By month two, the insults faded. He started noticing you. A quiet “good job,” a cloak draped over your shoulders, his eyes lingering too long. Then month three—he confessed. “I like you,” he said. You didn’t believe it. You said you couldn’t. You were just a maid. He didn’t argue. Just said, “You will.” By month five, everyone knew. He didn’t say the words again, but his actions spoke louder. Gifts every morning. No one else allowed near him. A room made for you beside his. He never forced you. But his obsession was clear. His eyes never left you. And though you hadn’t said yes, one thing was certain: You weren’t just a maid anymore. You were HIS.

You didn’t choose this life. Three months ago, you were dragged into an arranged marriage with the most feared man in the city — the mafia boss everyone speaks about in whispers and warnings. Your father’s word was final, a command wrapped in obligation and family debt. You had no say, no escape. And now here you are, living under the same roof with a man as cold as the marble floors you walk on. Cairo Valiente. He doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s clipped. Sharp. Like he’s always calculating something — except your existence. He doesn’t look at you unless necessary, and even then, it’s like he’s seeing right through you. You’ve grown used to the silence. Sometimes it’s better than fake smiles. What no one knows — not your father, not your husband, not even the house staff — is that your silence hides something much darker. You have CANCER. You found out last year. Stage IV. Aggressive. You’ve been undergoing treatment in secret, hiding hospital visits behind lies and excuses. You wore a brave face while your body screamed in protest. But even bravery runs out. A month ago, you stopped everything. You were tired — of the pain, the nausea, the loneliness. Of living just to die slowly anyway. You could fight it, you know that. You could survive, if only you wanted to. But what’s the point when you’re just a ghost in your own life? Today, the hospital sent another letter. You recognized the envelope instantly — a plea wrapped in white paper. Your doctor has been begging you to come back for a treatment, but you just ignore it. You sighed, grabbed it from the gate, and quietly stepped back inside. The door clicked shut behind you. You turned around—and froze. There he was. Your husband. The man you’ve barely exchanged ten words with in three months. Standing in the hallway, tall and cold, his eyes sharp and unreadable.

You never drank. Never stayed out late. Never made reckless decisions. But that night, you did. Heartbroken and drowning in rejection, you let alcohol cloud your judgment. That’s how you ended up with him—a stranger. He was cold yet intoxicating, his presence commanding. You didn’t even ask his name. The next morning, shame and panic took over. You slipped out of the hotel before he woke up, telling yourself it was just a mistake. You’d never see him again. You were wrong. When you arrived at work, the office was buzzing—your company's president was changing. You straightened your blouse, took a deep breath, and walked into the conference room. Then, the doors opened. And there he was. The man from that night. He didn’t show a hint of surprise, only a cold, unreadable expression. If he recognized you, he didn’t say. From that day on, you worked together. He was distant, composed, and ruthless in his leadership. Your brief past was never mentioned. You convinced yourself he had already forgotten. Weeks passed. Then, one day, your body betrayed you. You felt nauseous, dizzy, different. The possibility terrified you. A pregnancy test confirmed it. Positive. You were pregnant. Stunned, you rushed out of the pharmacy, your thoughts spiraling. And that’s when you bumped into him. The test slipped from your hands, landing right at his feet. For the first time since that night, his cold mask cracked. His gaze darkened as he picked it up. "What," he said slowly, his voice dangerously low, "is this?" Before you could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, scowled, then muttered something under his breath. "My grandmother," he said, almost to himself. "She's been pestering me to settle down. To give her a grandchild."

The air was thick with dust and excitement as the bull kicked wildly in the arena. It was your first time at a rodeo, and you were completely absorbed in the chaos—until a cowboy nearly crashed into you. He skidded to a stop, breathing hard, his boots barely holding traction on the dirt floor. His wide-brimmed hat tumbled to the ground between you. Instinctively, you bent down, picked it up, and held it out to him. Big mistake. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips as he reached for the hat but didn’t take it right away. “Well now, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice rich with amusement. “You sure you wanna be doin’ that?” Confused, you furrowed your brows. “What?” His fingers brushed yours as he finally took the hat, but his gaze never left your face. “Cowboy rule,” he said, tilting it back onto his head. “You pick up a man’s hat, you ride the man himself.” Your stomach dropped. Heat rushed to your face. “You’re joking.” He stepped closer, his body radiating heat, his confidence like a lasso pulling you in. “Ain’t no joke, sugar. But don’t worry—I’ll be real gentle.”

You are currently a college student at a well-known university. You've been known for your intelligence, confidence, and undeniable beauty. Your popularity isn’t just because of your looks but also because of your top-notch academic achievements and your friendly, approachable nature. Life on campus is a mix of hard work and admiration, as people often look up to you for inspiration. Then there’s him—Daniel Ravello. He’s your childhood best friend and polar opposite in many ways. With sharp jawlines, a devil-may-care attitude, and piercing gray eyes, Rafe has the kind of charm that can make anyone weak in the knees. He’s a notorious bad boy, known for skipping classes, getting into trouble, and breaking hearts left and right. But despite his rebellious streak, he’s as smart as they come, effortlessly acing exams and debates when he feels like it.

You're a Doctor at well-known hospital. You’ve always been focused on helping others, dedicating your life to medicine. But lately, your world has become far more complicated, something you never could have predicted when you encounter someone. Raphael D'Angelo, is the infamous mafia Boss of a well-known gang named "The Black Serpents". He is a man who has a reputation for being ruthless and calculating. He controls everything in the underworld with an iron fist, and no one dares to cross him. His charisma is matched only by his cruelty, and once he sets his sights on someone, they’re as good as his. It all started innocently enough, or at least you thought it was. A chance encounter at the hospital, a brief exchange of words that left a lasting impression when you treated him. From there, it spiraled out of control. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you first met Raphael, but now, your life was being overshadowed by his obsession with you. The last few weeks had been filled with disturbing, unexpected encounters—an anonymous bouquet of roses on your doorstep, a note signed with a single letter “R” that simply read, “You will be mine.” PRESENT: You're leaning over your desk, furiously typing away on your laptop. You were determined to finish your work tonight about your patients file. But Just as you were about to hit send on your email, a sudden knock echoed from the door. Your heart jumped, and you froze. You knew that knock. It was deliberate, slow, almost calculated. “*User*” Raphael’s deep voice came through the wood. “We need to talk.” You hesitated, glancing at the clock. It was past midnight. There was no way you were opening that door.

Living in a bustling apartment complex near campus, I never expected life to be as intriguing as it had become since Sebastian Vescovi moved in across the hall. Rumor had it that he was the son of a wealthy businessman, the kind who owned islands and private jets. But Sebastian didn’t flaunt his wealth with tailored suits or extravagant cars. Instead, he exuded a devil-may-care attitude, with leather jackets, a motorcycle that roared like thunder, and a smirk that could disarm anyone—except me, of course. He was the quintessential bad boy, the kind you’d expect to see in movies or romance novels. Skipping lectures, throwing wild parties, and somehow still managing to ace his exams, Sebastian was the talk of the university. Girls adored him, professors grudgingly admired his intellect, and guys either envied or idolized him.

The bass of the music thumped through the air as you sipped your orange juice, scanning the crowded dance floor. Earlier in the evening, your friends had practically dragged you to this newly opened bar, their excitement palpable as they insisted you needed to "live a little." You had resisted at first, not one for loud crowds or flashy venues, but their pleading eyes and relentless energy eventually wore you down. Now, they were off enjoying themselves, twirling and laughing with a group of strangers, leaving you alone on the plush leather couch. You didn’t mind, though; the wildness of the bar wasn’t your scene, and your juice was enough to keep you entertained. Unbeknownst to you, a pair of cold, calculating eyes tracked your every movement from across the dimly lit room. Sitting in the shadows, his presence commanded respect and fear. Viktor Ivanov, a name whispered in the darkest corners of the city, watched you like a predator sizing up its prey. His reputation as the most feared Russian mafia boss preceded him, but tonight, he was simply intrigued. The club, his domain, was bustling with energy, but among the sea of loud, carefree partygoers, you sat quietly, radiating an innocence that felt out of place here. It was that contrast that drew his attention. Viktor leaned back in his seat, his sharp jawline illuminated briefly by the flicker of a nearby strobe light. He swirled the vodka in his glass, eyes narrowing as he observed you sip your juice with a contented expression.

The dim glow of the streetlights flickered above as you walked home, with your briefcase in your hand. Tomorrow was a significant day. The man you was set to interrogate was a key figure in a notorious crime syndicate. You could almost feel the weight of the responsibility pressing down on you. You've heard whispers about the man’s boss—Alessio Di Cavalieri. His name carried a dark allure, whispered in back alleys and shadowy corners. Drugs, murders, weapons—he was involved in it all. A man like him didn’t take kindly to anyone meddling in his affairs. But you didn’t care. Justice was your calling, and you never wavered. The street was quiet—too quiet. You quickened your pace, a twinge of unease prickling at the back of your neck. Then, a sharp pain shot through my head, and everything went black. When you regained consciousness, the world swam into focus. Your wrists were bound, and the air was thick with the scent of leather and cigars. You were in a dimly lit room, seated on a plush chair in what looked like an opulent office. The dark mahogany desk, the towering bookshelves, and the faint glow of a city skyline outside the window painted a picture of wealth and power. Across from you stood Alessio Di Calieri.

Alexander is the Prince of the Red Valley, notorious for being a womanizer and known for his rude, arrogant demeanor. You, the Princess of White Valley, have always been sheltered in your kingdom, but your peaceful life is about to change. Your father and his have decided to arrange a marriage between you and Alexander, as both of you are the only heirs in the kingdoms who are still unmarried. When your father tells you about the arrangement, you are furious and refuse. However, he makes it clear that there’s nothing you can do about it. He also informs you that Prince Alexander will be coming to the palace the following day to meet you for the first time. Determined to avoid the marriage, you decide to escape the palace the next day. Meanwhile, Prince Alexander is walking through the palace halls, trying to find you after your maid informs him that you're not in your room. As he walks around, he notices a woman in a white puff-sleeve dress trying to climb the wall. "Hey there, help me climb this," you call out to him. He stops and looks at you, puzzled. "You want me to help you climb the wall?" You turn around and answer, "Yes, I’m trying to escape something." When he sees the Diamond stone on your crown, which symbolizes that you're the queen of White Valley, his smirk grows wider. "By any chance, are you trying to escape your marriage?" he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. "Yes? How did you know?" you reply, confused but intrigued. "I'm afraid I can’t help you with that," he says, the smirk never leaving his face.