1466 Book(s) Related to lyrics to starting over

At fifteen, my parents died on their way of volunteer teaching in underprivileged areas. I was adopted by the Miller family’s Don, Vincent and was brought up by himself. For ten years, he hauled me out of the mud, gave me a home, gave me favor no one else got and taught me what a “family” was supposed to mean.
On my eighteenth birthday, I climbed onto his bed and kissed him.
He called me disgusting with a face like ice. Later, he brought Isabella home, forced me to be her bridesmaid, and made me go with her to pick out wedding dresses and jewelry.
One shove from her was all it took for him to lock me in a pitch-black confinement room and he even had the light removed.
That was when I finally understood: everything I had could be taken back from me at any moment.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"

I begged my mom for ten dollars, but she smashed my head with a frying pan instead.

The next day, my mother posted on a forum asking:
"Hi everyone. My eldest son lied about the end of the world just to get ten dollars. I want to ask, how can I sell him on the underground black market to pay off his younger brother's $20,000 debt?"

The moment I saw that post, any remaining love I had for them died instantly. I snapped my phone's SIM card in half.

What she didn’t know was that a world-ending acid flood would descend upon New York tomorrow.

I had begged so bitterly for that ten dollars just to trigger the Ten-Million-Fold Return System to build a three-billion-dollar Doomsday Ark.

Since she didn’t want it, I gave the throne of the Ark Queen to the female classmate who casually tossed me some charity.

Betrayed to death by my own brother, I was reborn before the apocalypse descended.
He rushed to seize the god-tier [Copy] talent first, leaving the trash [Purification] talent for me.
He thought that with this talent, he'd have no worries and reign supreme in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, I quietly closed the last door of my fortress.
He didn't know that his prized copying ability had a fatal flaw.

"Daddy... so cold... and it hurts..." When my precious daughter Mia whispered these words in her weak voice, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
The life-saving medicine was just ten meters away, but that damned anti-magic barrier had become an insurmountable chasm between life and death.
What made me even more furious was that the vampire guarding the gate not only extorted my life savings, but also demanded I kneel like a dog and lick his boots before he would open the door.
He didn't know that if the door stayed closed, it wouldn't just be my daughter who died—his son and mother would perish too!

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

Five years into my marriage, I took off my Donna necklace at the Rossi family’s New Year’s Eve banquet and Noah still thought I could never leave him.
He stood by the long table with his mistress, Amelia, and said in front of every capo, “Some people will never measure up to her. Not even close.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just turned and walked away. On my way out, my cousin Lucas, my fixer, handed me a cup of coffee.
Three days later, he brought me two pieces of news.
Amelia was four months pregnant. And Noah was trading family territory to get his bastard child recognized by the family.
“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.
I stared out the window, thinking about the red lipstick stain on Noah’s shirt. Thinking about the smug look in his eyes when he told me, “I only helped her because I felt sorry for her.”
“Wait,” I said. “Wait until they think they’ve won.”
What Noah didn’t know was I was still holding one last trump card.

Lucy, a twenty year old college girl who is completely obsessed with cock and nonstop sex, never expected her single mom to bring home the perfect man. Ethan is in his late thirties, ripped from years of construction work, hung like a horse, and naturally dominant. After she reluctantly accepts the marriage, Lucy turns into a total seductress. She starts wearing the skimpiest outfits and teasing him without mercy. When her mom leaves town for a business trip, one dripping wet encounter leads to Lucy blackmailing Ethan into raw forbidden fucking. Their secret affair quickly explodes into daily risky creampies all over the house. But everything changes when Mom, Sarah, comes home early and catches them right in the middle of a hard fuck.

In her first life, Ivy was abandoned. Starved. Forgotten. When the Shaws finally threw her out like garbage, the only people who came for her were strangers with guns.

Now she’s reborn. She knows how the story ends. And she’s running toward the killers instead of away from them.

Dad’s a hitman with terrible aim and a lazier temper. Mom’s a chef who butchers people in the basement. Big Brother runs the Dark Web. Little Brother builds death traps for fun.

They’re the worst family in the city. And they’re exactly what she chose.

With her five-year-old eyes, every murder looks like cooking.

Every severed finger is a toy. Every bloodstain is just Mommy’s new perfume.

Ivy doesn’t see killers. She sees the only people who ever loved her.

In their eyes, my wife Emma—an Ivy League tenured professor in biological sciences—is ruthless, rational, and obsessively clean.
For seven years, even when she washed her hands, she would only ever touch the right-side sink—hers.
Until that night at 3 a.m., when I pulled a strand of sandy-golden short curl—hair that belonged to neither of us—out of my men’s shower loofah.
And around the neck of a pre-med student named Lucas, I saw the antique silver cross my dying father left in my hands.
When I confronted her, my always-icy wife protected the little homewrecker, slapped me across the face, and called me a jealous, controlling chauvinist.
She thought I’d swallow it like a coward.
But she forgot: as a top cardiothoracic chief, the thing I do best is cutting out tumors.

"I don't desire her the way I desire you... like a drug addict."

That night at the Masquerade Ball changed everything. I thought I was alone in the dark bathroom, trying to fix my lipstick, when the lights suddenly went out. Panic set in, but then a heavy, hot breath brushed against my neck. I thought it was Simon.

"Back so soon?" I whispered. He didn't answer. He just gripped my waist firmly, pushing me back until my ass collided with the cold marble of the sink. He lifted me onto the edge, spreading my legs wide so his body fit perfectly between them. His rough fingers traced the wetness soaking my panties before he ripped the lace fabric apart with a savage tear.

"Simon... please," I moaned, but he silenced me with a guttural growl. He didn't say a word, just unzipped his pants and thrust into me, hard and deep. The impact made me gasp, my back arching against the mirror. Every thrust was precise, punishing, hitting that sweet spot that made my toes curl. I could feel the thick veins of his cock stretching me, filling me completely as he pounded into me with a rhythmic, animalistic need. His hot cum flooded me just as I screamed into the darkness, my body convulsing in a shattering orgasm.

But when the lights came back on... the room was empty.

Days later, I met the new owner of the jewelry empire I work for. Felix Yeats. He stared at me with those intense, dark blue eyes. "We meet again, Little Bunny," he whispered.

He wasn't Simon. The man who fucked me senseless in the dark was the most dangerous man in Chicago... and now he's my boss.


There are few things in this world more dangerous than Felix Yeats, the ruthless mafia leader who has conquered Chicago's underworld. He's a cold man who always gets what he wants, and everything is at his feet. However, there is something about him that no one knows… his lovely weakness — Isabelle Nash.

Belle is like a light in this dark world, a young woman who has just left college and knows nothing about Felix‘s reality, let alone the true colors of the man who seems so perfect.

However, one cannot change one's nature. The fall is just inevitable, and the truth is always waiting to be seen. But will Isabelle open her eyes and embrace the shadows that surround her? Or will she escape her cage and run away from Felix's sweet obsession?

“Alaric... more... more... please!” This causes him to penetrate one more finger, increasing the rhythm of the movement of his fingers. A scream escapes my lips as I feel his teeth penetrate my flesh, causing a burning sensation similar to the one I felt in my neck.
As the penetration of his fingers intensifies, he sucks my blood, making me close my eyes. My hands grip the bedsheet tightly, pulling it up.





My whole body trembles, showing that I’m at my limit, my intimacy contracting around his fingers as I reach the peak of pleasure. He stops sucking my blood, takes his fingers out of me, and starts sucking again, sucking so hard that I try to close my legs, but I’m interrupted.

Alaric slides his tongue all over my entrance, up my clit.

“Delicious, even more delicious, young lady.” He gets up and climbs onto the bed, sinking into the mattress with his weight, getting between my legs. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

My eyes slide down to his member, so rigid, with the veins protruding, demarcating the entire length. He follows my gaze, smiling mischievously, putting the weight of his body on mine.

“Do you want to feel my cock penetrating you hard, young lady?”

Nyra let her desire speak louder, but will that be enough to make her leave her past behind?

Alaric had never been as attracted to a woman as he was to Nyra, especially after tasting her blood. He knew she was different from his concubines, perhaps some rules were needed to make Nyra his alone.

“From now on, you will be mine alone. Understand, Nyra?”.
Rating +18

At the Morello family’s Christmas dinner, I stood beside Vincent, waiting for him to announce our engagement.
Instead, in the very next second, he walked in holding a little boy and claimed him as his son.
And the woman he said he was going to marry? Scarlett Morello. The one he had always introduced as his “sister.”
The whole room erupted in applause. I stood there frozen, like a nail hammered into the floor.
Later, in his study, he took my hand and said, “Scarlett is dying. Late-stage breast cancer. She only has six months left. After she’s gone, I’ll marry you.”
But there was no guilt in his eyes. No love, either.
Then he told me to go to his villa that afternoon, to take care of the woman who was supposedly “dying.”
I opened the photo he sent me. Scarlett was lying in a hospital bed, pale-faced, an IV in the back of her hand.
A professional tennis player who had been playing in an exhibition match three weeks ago, and who had dropped three grand at Louis Vuitton on Fifth Avenue just five days ago.
But sure. She was “dying.”
At three in the morning, I was curled up by the front door of my apartment, crying so long I lost track of time.
Then my phone lit up. A text from an unknown number:
[Elena, I’m downstairs. When we were kids, you told me that once I controlled the docks on the East Coast, you’d marry me. The docks are mine now. Does that promise still stand?]
I pulled back the curtain and there he was. Ethan Vitale, my first love, leaning against the door of a black Cadillac, lifting a hand in a lazy wave.
Three years ago, when he left New York, he was only a Capo.
Now, he was the Don of the Vitale family.
He didn’t rush me. Didn’t pressure me to come downstairs.
He came for one reason only, to let me know he was back.
I wiped away my tears and texted back:
[It still stands.]
Because I wanted to see for myself just how long that woman could keep up her act.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

When the apocalypse struck, my brother Leo didn't hesitate to choose the offshore sanctuary.
In our past life, faced with a choice between a powerful inland warlord commanding a massive army and a leader clinging to a solitary island, Leo snatched up the first option.
But when a zombie horde overran the mainland and defenses collapsed, he fled to my island for refuge.
Jealous of how well I was surviving the end of the world, he and our parents knocked me unconscious in the dead of night and threw me into the ocean to drown.
Now that I've been reborn, Leo immediately took our parents to the maritime base, leaving the "dangerous" mainland to me.
He thinks the ocean is a natural barrier that guarantees his safety, that he can sit back and relax while the world burns.
But there's one thing he doesn't know.
Zombies aren't just static, mindless walking dead—they evolve.
And when they do, that offshore sanctuary will become a floating hell with no way out.