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In God's Footprint novel

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THE GODFATHER
Ayoko: Webfic PROLOGUE: ★ ★ ★ ★ "Ana. . ." he whispered, his smile dropping as he closed the distance between us. "I'm sor. . ." My right hand met his cheek brutally, stopping all that he had to say. "How dare you?!" I hissed, landing another smack on the same spot. " How could you do this to me? " I raised my hand up again to place another one, but he caught my wrist before I could do so. "Plan your next move very carefully," he spoke in a low tone, tightening his grip on my wrist, daring me to slap him again. Pain jolted from the area, forcing tears to sting at the corner of my eyes. "Or what?" I scowled at him. " You don't want to find out." He took a step closer, staring into my eyes. " And don't tempt me. " * Anastasia Romanoff is a wise, strong willed girl with a good heart, but an unexpected circumstances leads her to people who tears her apart. What happens when she finds herself in the tent of Vito Escobar, a ruthless mafia leader and also her father's debtor? However, things didn't turn out the way she expected. She is sexually tortured by the eldest sons of her master. But what happens when Pablo, the youngest of Vito's son returns from the military, who is not only intrigued but also smitten by her? However, they begin to change each other, molding into something else. She does things she never dreamt of doing, and the rising tension between the two of them kills her inside. But will she give into the sexy temptation walking around with an irresistible smirk that mushes her into a puddle? With the eldest sons after her body, will she be able to find refuge in the one she loves? Or will she remain as a slave to the Mafia household? ~~~~
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Goodbye Scumbag, Hello True Love
Ayoko: Webfic all"I'm so over Cassandra." Aidan Ziegler sneers, swirling his wine glass with a lazy smirk. "A real woman is soft and sweet—like Clara. As for her..."In the corner, a glass suddenly shatters in a man's palm.Cassandra Callum stands frozen, holding the cake she made to celebrate their three-year anniversary, eyes locked on the blood trickling down from his sharply defined fingers.Tristan Freeman, head of Freeman Group, slowly wipes his hand clean. His dark gaze sweeps over her tear-reddened eyes. "Ms. Callum, would you like to marry me?"The city explodes with gossip.Everyone thinks a broke little designer has climbed her way into wealth and power—what no one knows is that this marriage is a trap Tristan set five years ago.His private gallery holds over a thousand sketches of her profile—from that day in sophomore year when she crouched in a rainy alley feeding a stray cat,to her backstage at a runway abroad, gently arranging jewelry.Late at night, he stares at security footage, cigarette in hand, as Aidan kneels in a storm, soaked and shaking. Tristan suddenly pulls his delicate wife into his arms.Later, a finance reporter captures the once cold and ruthless Tristan,down on one knee before Cassandra. His hands tremble as he holds a pregnancy test.Cassandra flashes her wedding ring and laughs softly. "Surprised, Mr. Freeman?"Tristan, once known for being sharp and vicious, blinks back tears,then presses a trembling kiss to the faded mark on her ring finger."Cassie, when you were 22, I wanted to say...""Say what?"He leans in, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "The cake was really sweet."
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