(Title:Heir of a Broken Love/WARNING WLW) Ten years ago, Samira Al-Zahir ruled the underground of Dubai with cold precision — an Arabian mafia queen feared by men twice her size. Back then, the only person who ever softened her was Alessia Bianchi, the fiery, spoiled but kind-hearted daughter of one of Italy’s richest families. Their love had been secret, dangerous, and intense. When Samira was forced to disappear after a brutal mafia war, she left Alessia behind — believing it was the only way to protect her. But Alessia had been pregnant. She never told Samira. Her father, ashamed of the scandal, forced her into silence. And so Alessia raised their child alone — Luca — a child with Samira’s sharp eyes and Alessia’s gentle smile. Ten years passed. Then Luca collapsed. Doctors discovered a rare blood disease — one that only a very specific genetic match could save. Alessia’s blood wasn’t enough. And the only other person who could help… was Samira. With no other choice, Alessia’s powerful father made the call. ~ When Samira heard the words “You have a child… and it's dying,” something inside her broke. A child. Her child. Hours later she was in Italy. The hospital room smelled of medicine and fear. A small body lay surrounded by machines — and eyes that were unmistakably hers. Samira froze… then sank to her knees. Alessia stood beside the bed, exhausted, fragile — still painfully beautiful. Their eyes met, and ten years of lies exploded between them

(Title:Love as Revenge/WARNING WLW) The moment Aurora Valmont chose her personal maid, Valencia Grey, she didn’t know that tonight would change everything. Valencia’s dark eyes gleamed with quiet intent as she knelt briefly before Aurora, offering the polite, obedient smile expected of her station. But behind that calm exterior, Valencia had a plan. Across the estate, Selene Duvall, Isla’s soon-to-be fiancée, fumed. She had spent years wielding her beauty like a weapon, and now, to her horror, Aurora had picked this mysterious, elegant maid. She would not be ignored. She would tempt Aurora. She had to. But Valencia had already beaten her. Later that night, after Selene had retired, Valencia quietly crept into Aurora’s study. She had stolen Selene’s own silken nightdress, a symbol of the cruelty and control Selene had once used to destroy lives. Valencia draped it over her slender frame, letting the fabric cling in all the right places. She rested her hands lightly on Aurora's desk, arching her back, allowing the curves of her body to be seen in the soft moonlight streaming through the window. Her movements were slow, deliberate, teasing—but controlled. On the floor, carefully placed, lay the remnants of her plan: Her own lacy panties, left behind like a silent warning. When Aurora returned unexpectedly to fetch a late book from her study, her eyes froze. Valencia turned, her gaze meeting Aurora’s, confident and inviting. A smile curved Valencia’s lips, a mixture of mischief and intent. “Good evening, Miss Valmont,” Valencia whispered. “I thought you might like some company.” Aurora's heart thudded wildly, and for the first time, she felt a pull she could neither resist nor explain. Selene’s shadow of control meant nothing here—Valencia had already claimed her attention, her desire… her fascination. And tonight was only the beginning.

Liora was sprawled across her bed, silk sheets tangled around her legs, phone hovering above her face. She had changed into her favorite night clothes—soft fabric, a little too loose, a little too daring—and after minutes of overthinking, she snapped a picture. Liora: Do you like my outfit? 📷 Downstairs, Clara was standing with two of the maids near the tea station, quietly giving instructions. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She excused herself just long enough to glance at the screen. And froze. Liora, half-curled on her bed, hair loose, night clothes slipping just enough to make Clara’s thoughts derail completely. It wasn’t indecent—but it was intimate in a way that felt like it had been meant only for her. Clara’s ears went red. She quickly locked her phone, heart racing, then unlocked it again to type. Clara: Miss Liora… you shouldn’t send things like that. Someone else could have seen it. Across the manor, Liora smiled slowly, eyes glinting with trouble. She rolled onto her stomach, chin resting in her hand, and typed back. Liora: Oh? So you want it all for yourself then? Clara nearly dropped her phone. One of the maids glanced over. “Everything okay, Clara?” Clara swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “Y-Yes. Perfectly.” Her phone buzzed again. Liora: Because I don’t mind if it’s just you looking. Clara’s face felt like it was on fire. She turned away from the others, shoulders stiff, trying desperately to look composed while her heart was doing anything but. Clara: You are being very improper. Liora: You like it. A pause. Then: Clara: …You shouldn’t tease me like this. Liora laughed softly to herself, hugging her pillow. Liora: But you’re blushing right now, aren’t you? Downstairs, Clara closed her eyes for half a second before replying. Clara: Perhaps. And for the rest of the evening, every time Liora sent another innocent-looking message, Clara had to fight very hard to remember she was supposed to be the calm, professional one

(Title: A Wife by Design/ WARNING WLW) Everyone knew the Montclair name—skyscrapers, boardrooms, whispered with fear. At twenty-six, Valeria Montclair was untouchable, a CEO built from ice and ambition. But once, she had waited every summer on her childhood steps, hoping Eda Vale would come out to play. Eda, who had always looked past her… at him- Adrien, Valeria’s brother. Years passed. Adrien married. Valeria built an empire. Eda stayed, smiling too long at what she couldn’t have. Then one day Madeleine Montclair, Valeria's mother, decided: "Valeria will marry Eda.” Eda agreed—for power, for Adrien. The marriage was cold. Polite dinners. Separate bedrooms. Distance. Everything was going on plan. Until the night everything shifted. The Montclair gala blurred into polite smiles and practiced laughter. Valeria stood beside Eda, fingers barely touching, a performance perfected over months. She excused herself briefly. Eda didn’t notice. Valeria returned just in time to hear her name. “I didn’t marry Valeria for love,” Eda said, her voice light, careless. She was speaking to a board member’s wife, champagne glass tilted lazily in her hand. “She’s… convenient. Predictable. A surname, not a woman.” The words landed like a slap. Valeria stood frozen, unseen. Unimportant. “She’s good at business,” Eda continued. “But passion? God, no. I married her because it kept me close to what I actually wanted.” A pause. Then laughter. Valeria didn’t wait to hear more. She left the gala early, heels silent against marble, something inside her closing with devastating calm. That night, she didn’t cry. She simply understood.

(Title: Restraint/WARNING WLW) When Helen Davenport married Vivienne Sinclair, everyone assumed the house would finally feel complete. It didn’t. Alexis noticed it first—the way Vivienne moved through the rooms like she was only visiting. Always polite. Always distant. Always watching. Alexis was twenty-two when her mother remarried. Old enough to know what marriage was supposed to look like. Old enough to recognize when something inside it was already broken. Her mother was never home anymore. Helen's “assistant” started coming to dinner. Then staying late. Then not pretending at all. Vivienne noticed. Of course she did. But she said nothing. Because when she looked at Alexis, standing barefoot in the kitchen at midnight, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, eyes too tired for someone so young—Vivienne felt something she refused to name. Something dangerous. Vivienne never touched her. Not when Alexis brushed past her in the hallway. Not when their fingers lingered too long while passing a glass. Not even when Alexis’s voice softened whenever she said her name. Instead, Vivienne became careful. Too careful. And that was how Alexis knew. “I know you know,” Alexis said one night, leaning against the counter while Vivienne pretended to read emails. “Know what?” Vivienne asked, without looking up. “About my mom.” Silence. “And you don’t care,” Alexis continued. “You just… let it happen.” Vivienne finally looked at her then. “You think I don’t care?” she asked quietly. Alexis swallowed. “I think you stopped loving her.” That was true. What Alexis didn’t say—what sat heavy on her chest—was why she thought that might be.

(Title: The Legend Of Liora/WARNING WLW) The airship hummed softly as it cut through the clouds, steady and calm after a long day. Night had settled in, wrapping the deck in cool blue light. The Avatar, Liora, leaned against the railing, arms resting on the cool metal. Footsteps approached behind her. Light. Familiar. “You disappeared after dinner,” said Vall. Liora didn’t turn right away. “I needed air.” Vall stepped beside her, resting her forearms on the railing too, close enough that their shoulders almost touched—but didn’t. “You okay?” Vall asked. Liora nodded. Then, after a second, she shook her head. “I will be.” Vall didn’t push. She never did. That was part of what made her different from everyone else who surrounded the Avatar day and night. She understood when to speak—and when not to. Below them, clouds drifted past like slow waves. Liora flexed her fingers unconsciously, feeling the elements stir beneath her skin. Air responded immediately. Water followed. Fire lingered. Earth waited, patient and heavy. Vall watched her hands. "You’re doing that thing again,” she said quietly. Liora smiled faintly. “What thing?” “Where you look like you’re holding the whole world together by accident.” Liora huffed a soft laugh and finally turned toward her. Vall was looking at her—not the Avatar, not the bridge between worlds—but her. Just Liora. Wind-tangled hair, tired eyes, shoulders finally lowered. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Liora said. “Standing in the middle of all this-", "Hey," Vall interrupted her "You're not alone. You have me, Master Zane, Chris and Brandon". Liora finally met her gaze and nodded slightly. "Get some rest," Vall said gently "Big day tomorrow." Liora turned back and nodded again "Yeah" To be continued...

Title: "Two Queens in One Palace"/ WARNING WLW) The palace was quiet - the dangerous kind of quiet that came before storms or betrayals. Aurelia entered their shared chambers first, her dress shimmering like molten gold. She looked every bit the elegant noblewoman she pretended to be. But her eyes - sharp, fearless - told another story. "You're late," she said without turning around. Cassandra closed the door behind her. No apology. No explanation. Her footsteps were silent, predatory, as she approached. "Your concern is touching," Cassandra murmured. Aurelia spun around, lifting her chin. "Don't flatter yourself. I just need to know if my wife is alive, so I can prepare the proper announcement." Cassandra smirked. "You'd mourn me?" "I'd host a banquet." Cassandra stepped closer, invading her space without permission. "So much hostility," she said. "You'd think you didn't choose this marriage." Aurelia scoffed. "Oh please. Your council threatened war if I refused. That's hardly choosing." "And you married me anyway," Cassandra said softly, "instead of running." Aurelia's voice dropped. "I don't run." Cassandra's eyes darkened with a mix of respect and irritation - the only two emotions Aurelia had ever truly drawn out of her. "Good," Cassandra whispered. "I don't like fragile partners." Aurelia stepped even closer, lips nearly brushing Cassandra's. "I am not your partner," she said. "I am your equal." Cassandra's breath hitched - barely noticeable, but Aurelia caught it. "You think you can stand beside me?" Cassandra taunted. Aurelia smirked. "I think I can stand over you, if necessary." Cassandra laughed softly - a dangerous, low sound that curled around Aurelia's spine. "That," Cassandra murmured, lifting Aurelia's chin with two fingers, "is exactly why they forced us together." Aurelia didn't pull away. "And why we'll tear the kingdom apart," she whispered. (How is it? Give me ideas for new ones)

(Title: “Glass Between Us”/ WARNING WLW) The morning inside the matte-black G-Class was colder than the frost outside. Rhea sat on the left side of the back seat, her posture flawless, her presence sharp enough to cut through steel. She was dressed in all black, rings on her fingers, power radiating from her like a second pulse. On the other side, Celine sat with her hands elegantly folded over her lap, eyes down, lashes still wet from the shower that hadn’t washed away her exhaustion. Her beauty was soft, ethereal even — but this morning, she felt made of glass. Between them, Aria sat quietly, her little gloved hands resting on her knees. Ten years old, but mature enough to know that silence was safer when her mothers weren’t speaking. In front, their driver, Leon, stared ahead without daring to breathe too loudly. Even he felt the tension. Rhea stared out her window. Celine stared out hers. Aria stared at her shoes. No one had said a word since they left the estate. Last night’s fight had been bad — not loud, never that — but precise, the way only two people who know each other’s deepest weaknesses can hurt. And when the argument ended, Celine had walked away first. Rhea never chased. Not even her wife. Her chosen wife. The G-Class rolled forward through the iron gates. Aria’s school, Celine’s foundation office, Rhea’s headquarters — all separate. All waiting. “Where to first, boss?” Leon asked. Rhea didn’t answer. She didn’t even blink. Celine finally lifted her head, voice quiet, controlled. “Aria first.” Rhea’s jaw tightened, but she nodded once. A cold acknowledgment. A queen conceding to a request she didn’t want to refuse. Aria shifted slightly, a tiny movement that felt like a scream in the silent car. She looked between her mothers, her voice gentle: "Are you... still mad?" Celine's lips parted first, but no sound came. Rhea spoke instead - low, steady, dangerous. "We're... thinking." Aria looked back down.

Warning WLW (Title: "When the Secrets Spoke") It was supposed to be a perfect wedding — Aylin's best friend's brother marrying the woman he loved. Instead, it became the night the Sezare family’s biggest secret exploded. Right before the vows, the bride — Liora took the microphone with that confident smile that now makes everyone’s stomach sink. She lifted her glass and said: “I want to thank my brothers and my dear sister Loren, and their mother, for coming today. From the Sezare family, which I’m related to… as the illegitimate daughter of the husband of Mrs. Vera — known also as my father.” The room died. Loren’s mother nearly collapsed. Her brothers froze. Whispers spread like fire. No one knew that Sezares and Liora had been fighting in court for the past month. No one knew except from the family. And now everyone knew everything. --- After the wedding the argument back home wasn't any better either. Loren's brothers- Cael, Rowan and Davion, all of them furious and angry as long as their mother- Mrs. Vera was shouting at the family lawyer- Aris, Loren's best friend and really close friend of the family- to file another lawsuit against Liora. Loren bursts into the house like a storm. She throws her jacket. Then the jewelry. Then the picture frames. Shouting, swearing, shaking. Aylin, her pregnant wife, stays gentle, calm, and steady. She keeps her voice soft, her hands careful, even as Loren trembles with rage right in front of her. She feels pity. Concern. Worry. And a growing need to soothe her angry wife without stressing herself out. Loren looks like she’s about to shatter something else — or herself.

"Title: La Promesa (The Promise)" Lucía Alvarez (21) The niece of a major Spanish mafia patriarch. Grew up in luxury, but love was replaced with expectations and control. She has a soft heart, easily moved, easily hurt - but has learned to hide it under sarcasm and recklessness. Her soul is tired, always carrying sadness just beneath her smile. To escape her own mind, she has two companions: • Nathaniel - her protector-friend who never judges. • Brittany - the chaos best friend who keeps her distracted with any vice. Their nights are full of: Loud music. Alcohol. Drugs. Laughter that feels heavy when it ends. Everyone thinks she's careless. She isn't. She's just trying not to feel. But then there’s her. Camila Ortega (32) Engaged to Lucía's uncle for power. Born into influence, trained in diplomacy, etiquette, business, manipulation. She moves like a violin melody- graceful, precise, and controlled. Every smile is calculated. Every word is measured. People admire her, fear her, desire her - but no one knows her. ~Story~ The party downstairs was loud - chandeliers, expensive wine, violin strings, family power disguised as celebration. Lucía slipped away like smoke. The small silver case opened with familiar ease. A line. A breath. Her lungs filled with that cold, cruel lightning she'd grown addicted to. Her spine relaxed. Her eyes closed. And that's when the door opened. "Hard night?" Camila's voice was velvet, low and steady. Lucía swallowed. "Something like that." Camila studied her. Not the dress. Not the makeup. Her. "You're shaking," she said softly. Lucía tried to look away. "I just needed-" "A way out," Camila finished for her. Their eyes met in the mirror. Something shifted.

"Forbidden love between rivals" (Title: The Mafia's Bride) The D’Amato family believed in control — in clean suits, quiet power, and loyalty paid in blood. Serena D’Amato had learned all of that before she turned ten. She moved through her father’s villa like a shadow in silk — smiling at guests she didn’t trust, laughing at jokes she didn’t hear. In two weeks, she would marry Alejandro Cruz, heir to the family that had once been her father’s fiercest rival. A marriage for peace, not for love. But peace had never felt so heavy. The engagement celebration gleamed with gold and false smiles. Champagne flutes sparkled, crystal chandeliers burned white, and every guest whispered about how the union would finally end the blood war. Serena stood beside her fiancé, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He was polite, handsome, harmless — everything she should want. And yet her eyes drifted across the room. That was when she saw her. Vera Cruz. Alejandro’s older sister. The woman the rumors called La Reina Negra — the Black Queen. Ruthless, untouchable, always a step ahead of every man in the room. She wore a fitted black suit instead of a gown, dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. While others smiled and gossiped, she simply watched — calm, unreadable, like a storm waiting to move. Their gazes met. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just them — the soft music fading, the crowd dissolving into background noise. Serena felt her breath catch. Something wild sparked in her chest, something she didn’t have a name for yet. Vera raised her glass slightly — a quiet salute, maybe a warning.Serena's perfectly practiced smile faltered. -She was supposed to marry a Cruz. She just hadn't realized it would be the wrong one.-

(Title: The Untouchable Mafia's Wife) She's feared by everyone... except her wife. Selina Vitale - the ruthless and brilliant head of the Vitale crime family. No one dares to cross her; her name alone makes people tremble. She built her empire from ashes - and trusts no one. Eleanor Moretti-Vitale - her sweet, caring wife, a CEO who never wanted to be part of that world. To outsiders, she's just "the mafia boss's wife," but to Selina, she's her calm after every storm. But when a rival family targets Eleanor to get to Selina, the queen of crime becomes the goddess of vengeance. And nothing - not even blood, not even morality - will stand between her and the one person she loves. "Sorry about the voice, I tried my best 😅"

Long story short- Valentina Rossi and Luciana De Luca were forced into an arranged marriage because of their families. Valentina is kind and sweet woman from mafia family, the middle sibling and know as mafia princess. And as far as Luciana she's known as mafia queen, the most dangerous and feared mafia woman in the country. {Valentina}- mafia daughter, 24 years old and 5'7, kind, stubborn and mischievous, distant and respectful to Luciana's parents and siblings. She has one younger sister《Kamia-22》and her older brother《Andrew-30》 {Luciana}- mafia queen, 29 years old and 6'2, serious, distant and cold, dangerous and feared mafia leader and woman, the oldest sibling, heir to her family's business, has 2 sisters《Camila- 25, Leonor- 23》and one brother《Felix- 27》 P.S.- You can be whoever you want- gender, years, hight, anything! BUT YOU'RE A MAFIA!