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betrayal

The Quietest Knife

Willow wakes in a hospital bed injured, medicated, and alone. She is informed that her life, as she understood it, ended weeks earlier. Her fiancé is there. Calm. Controlled. He explains that they broke up before the accident and that the separation was mutual. He says he remained by her side only out of decency. He is already involved with someone else, his boss’s daughter, and speaks as though this version of events has always been established fact. No one in the room challenges him. The doctors attribute Willow’s disbelief to concussion and trauma. Nurses lower their voices and repeat the same explanation with careful reassurance until it becomes official, documented, and final. Each repetition strips away her certainty, replacing memory with doubt. When Willow looks to the one person who could contradict him, she finds no relief. Her fiancé’s closest friend, a man who has never hidden his dislike for her, says nothing. He offers a brief nod that confirms the narrative without words. With that single gesture, the past is closed. Every detail they present contradicts what Willow knows she lived. Weeks have been erased. Conversations have been rewritten. A relationship has been reassigned without her consent. If she resists, she will be labeled unstable, emotional, and unreliable. She will be the only one insisting that reality has been altered. So Willow stays silent. Within that silence, something colder begins to take shape. She begins to question why her fiancé needed the past rewritten at a moment when she cannot safely object. She begins to wonder why his closest friend chose this precise moment to agree. She begins to realize that decisions were made about her while she lay unconscious and defenseless. The Quietest Knife is a dark psychological romance centered on gaslighting, betrayal, and power disguised as care. It follows a slow, deliberate descent into manipulation, control, and revenge, where harm is inflicted quietly and authority wears the mask of concern. This is not a story about forgetting. It is a story about being rewritten calmly, professionally, and without resistance.
dr_ban99 · 97.6k Views

The Mafia's Undoing

Katherine Blaire has worked six grueling years to rise to the top of the banking world of Manhattan. Confident, voluptuous, and ambitious, she's nearly within reach of the promotion that will help to finance the college education of her autistic brother. She needs but one account- the account of Anthony Marvin, arguably the most influential and dangerous man in New York. Anthony "Tony" Marvin doesn't just own hotels and nightclubs. He controls both legitimate and underground empires as the heir of the most notorious mafia family in the city. Tony is ruthless, heartbreakingly handsome, and untouchable until Katherine enters his club with the business plan and with an unwavering refusal to back away from him. When Tony offers Katherine something she cannot refuse —a night with him in exchange for the contract —she storms out, humiliated and outraged. But Tony is interested in the woman who had the strength to say no to him, and Katherine finds herself drawn into a dangerous game of power struggle, desire, and growing love. As their relationship grows stronger, Tony's father, the ruthless mafia kingpin Thomas Marvin, will do whatever it takes to eliminate what he sees as his son's greatest weakness. Surrounded by enemies and with Katherine's entire family in danger, she and Tony must decide if their love is worth risking everything — including their lives. In a world in which love is the ultimate vulnerability, can a banker and a mafia prince redefine the rules of power?
Coco_Monae · 128.5k Views

"Guilty"

"I love you, okay?" ... her voice broke as she stared up at Nur's face. His eyes widened, chest tightening as he stared back at her, at the magnitude of her words. Tears clung to Ayse's lashes, his wife who he supposedly contract married. From the very first day they locked eyes, he loved her but not even for a second, he would have thought she would fall for him. This was Deniz Nur Hakan--The sole heir to the multibillion-dollar company, he who built empires with his bare hands. He had ice in his veins and ruled with an iron fist. Men trembled under his gaze; women drove to him.  A man whose ears were deaf to the pleadings of many. Some called him a bastard, and for some he was just their "son"  His father, Emre Yousef Hakan--A tyrant man. He handed Nur the keys to the Hakan's estate. Well pleased and trusted that his son will continue his tyrannical reign. After the funeral ceremony, his mother had come to him.  Conversing to him on estate matters and the "future" "How his job wasn't only proceeding his father's company but to also produce an heir" Nur stared at his mother's unreadable face; he shook his head and sternly rejected even a thought on such matters.  Though months passed. One faithful night, he received the news.  "Mr. Hakan, your mother has passed away" Nur was left heartbroken; he fled from U.K and quickly arrived at Istanbul via his private jet.  The car clicked opened as he made his way in the magnificent "Hakan estate" Where he would find his "relatives" people who they had lost connection to the very day his parents married. They weren't well off back then yet lived happily.  He paid them no mind and walked towards the center where his mom's coffin was.  Clutching around the fine wood, tears sprung out. His mother, the only one who he could rest his head on the shoulders, lazily talk about his day. She had left him. The funeral has ended. Meanwhile Nur sat at his study, blue eyes flickering under the warm glow. Just then--the door clicked, there entered, Ali Demir, his father's advisor, now his. The silver-haired man walked to him, hands clutching at piles of documents. He then conversed to him on the future and that to attain his will, he must marry. Nur's face turned pale, marriage--A chapter that he had closed long ago. After his previous marriage in Ankara to his childhood sweetheart--Eylul Aydin. He remembered her end--how his father mercilessly unlived her and their unborn child. Nur had also rejected this idea prior to his mother's death. Yet--Ali continued, "the bride had also been selected" His jaw flexed as he raked his eyes at him, "Did you...? Ali shook his head, "I wouldn't dare... if it wasn't the very own wish of Mrs. Hakan" Nur sighed, a part of him was uninterested and the other part? --merely curious to who it was. Ali continued, the bride is from one of the Kaplan family branches. "Who...is it? Nur's voice came out, flustered. Ali's mouth parted, "Ayse Azra Yildiz" His eyes widened, his chest tightened. To be continued>>>>>>>>>>
DeryaYildirim · 14.7k Views

Her Bloom Isn’t Red Anymore 1

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace | Smut | Obsession | Erotic If you want to support me please go in my ko-fi.com/taro13755. It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies maybe more followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker. Wilder. No longer red. I used to be soft. Gentle. Human. Now I wake up wet from dreams I didn’t have. Bite marks on my neck. Moans caught in my throat. Static in my ears. I flinch at mirrors. I glow when the moon’s full. And every time one of them looks at me — really looks at me — I feel the thorns growing again. They don’t touch me gently. They don’t ask for permission. They take. They bite. They bury themselves in the cracks I didn’t know I left open. And I let them. Because they fed me love. They crowned me with lust. And now power is breaking everything that held me still. This isn’t a romance. It’s a hunger. A reckoning. A memory that never died — even when I did. Ten butterflies or more. Ten lovers or more. Ten or more reasons I’m becoming something else entirely. And I am the bloom. The chalice. The girl at the center of the storm, still moaning for more. Please be nice to me — I write this for fun and just go with whatever comes to mind. I’m not a professional writer, and I’m not planning to be. I just enjoy writing, especially slow pacing and dragging things out. Sometimes I confuse the reader by not explaining whether it’s the past, present, or current timeline. So, read at your own risk! If you want to continue supporting me please go at ko-fi.com/taro13755.
Faithzero · 18.4k Views