J.D. Pierce

At my ex-fiancé's engagement party to my own sister, a stranger made me come with just his hands and his mouth. I only found out later he was the city's most feared Mafia boss...

Dear readers,
I'm taking a necessary health break and will have to pause updates for a while. Thank you for your understanding and continued support! I appreciate you all.

"To my lovely readers: I’m really sorry to say that I’ve been sick lately and need to take a short break from writing to recover. I’ll be back as soon as I can!"

After years of desperate IVF attempts, I overheard my husband boast that the baby was his and his ex's.
The child in my womb wasn't mine!
But when I pressed a gun to the complicit doctor's head, he trembled and spilled an even bigger bombshell—the mix-up wasn't my egg, it was the sperm... and the donor was Damien Costello, the most powerful Mafia Don in the city.
I was carrying Costello's baby!

I’m Elizabeth.
My husband wants my kidney for his lover.
I endured IVF and believed I was finally pregnant—
until I learned the truth.
The baby was his.
And hers.
That was the moment I stopped being the victim.

At the company party, a drunken mistake led me straight into my boss's bedroom...
Rumor had it that Wellington was cold, ruthless, and completely uninterested in women. They said any woman who dared to cross him would face a terrible end.
A month later, when I woke up in his bed again, only one thought screamed through my mind: Run!
But no matter how far she runs, he will hunt her down. **There is nowhere on earth he won't find her.

As the product of an arranged family marriage, the only value I was ever given was to bear a child.
But when my husband left me standing in the rain for another woman, I finally understood that I was the only one who had ever been faithful to this marriage.
I couldn’t stand by and watch my husband fall in love with someone else while I sank deeper and deeper for him.
So I asked for a divorce.
They’ll never see it coming—when I return, I’ll be transformed into the white swan everyone looks up to.

On our wedding anniversary, my husband threw my daughter and me out of the house.
I was clutching the debit card where my paycheck went, but I still couldn’t afford my daughter’s hospital bill.
And the man who did this was my husband—the same husband diagnosed with low sperm count.
Just when I had nowhere left to turn, a man appeared who looked shockingly like my daughter.
He actually suspected my daughter was his!

The day my husband lifted another woman into his arms, I was lying on the ground, the runway behind me still smoking from the blast.
“That pregnant woman looks so pitiful.”
The girl in his arms spoke, her voice soft and trembling—so innocent, so kind, so beautiful.
Everything I wasn’t.
If the man holding her weren’t my husband, I would have liked her too.
Just like my husband once liked the woman I used to be.

Years of failed IVF—
all because of my husband.
And while I was drowning in the truth,
he was fitting jewelry on another woman like she belonged to him.
That was my breaking point.
That was the moment I walked away.