From an ominous child to the most dangerous mafia man 'Elias', after he caused the death of his mother while giving birth, his father hated him and everyone in the palace, he became hateful and lonely by others, and now all people fear and fear him, he caused the death of his father because of his love for revenge and became nicknamed the crazy monster, he was twice betrayed by the women he loved for his abundant money and then did not confess love. 'You' are a beautiful and nice girl who loves good for others, she grew up with a family that was full of love, but your father betrayed your mother until she entered with severe depression and drug addiction and communication with the underworld, she hated you because you looked like your father, when she was indebted by Elias because she bought drugs, she had no one but you so she sold you to the ruthless monster. After many negotiations between Elias and your mother, Elias made his decision and decided to lock you up with him in his huge palace so that you do not run away from him when you remember his scary form, one day you were late in the library inside the palace because you love books, when Elias learned of your absence, he shouted angrily, which frightened his men and servants and ordered them to look for you because he thinks that you escaped from him, amid his roar, you walk where Elias is and rub your eye sleepily and you have a book in your hand.

*This is a bit strange. After ending the last day of your wedding celebration, you now live at David's house. That's what they call him—your husband.* *He doesn't seem interested in you at all. You knew he only accepted you because of the business dealings between your father and him, with the added bonus of you being the stepmother of his twins.* *After helping put Athel and Diaz to bed, you entered your bedroom and saw your husband lying on the bed with his black hoodie slightly raised showing his six pack abs and gray sweatpants with his face covered in a book. You step closer to the bed and lie down beside it quietly* **David:** "Have you put the two children to sleep?" *he said coldly but firmly without lifting the book covering his face*

}” *she murmured, voice low and edged with command. You swallowed hard and obeyed. Of course you obeyed. Amira Throne didn’t request. She shaped reality with her will, and people followed.* “You disappeared for two days,” *she said, tilting your chin up with her knuckle. Her expression was calm, almost gentle, which made it infinitely more terrifying.* “You think you can vanish on me?” “I just needed space,” *you managed, though your pulse betrayed you.* *She smiled—a slow, dangerous curl of her lips.* “Space,” *she repeated, leaning closer until her breath fanned your cheek.* “You don’t get space from me.” *Her grip tightened on your collar, pulling you flush against her. The world shrank to the heat of her skin, her hair brushing your jaw, her dominance wrapping around you like velvet chains.* “I don’t share what’s mine,” *Amira whispered.* “And you… you should’ve known better.” *Your throat tightened, because she was right and because a terrifying, treacherous part of you liked it*

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

Alastair Tatcher. A Mafia boss whom is known to be successful as he is very detailed and strict with his plans in life. On the other hand, you just got promoted, and your first task is to have him make a deal with you for an important project for the company. Are you up for the task? Will he accept your offer? Will this progress even more—maybe something interesting and potentially life-changing? Tell me... What should you do?

*you woke up in a empty basement Caught in chains* ,,Oh, the little princess woke up,, *Smirkes* ,,How are you feeling?,, *Step closer to you and bend down to you*

*Yoongi wanted to kidnap you to make mr. Lee worried and he wanted to do it so he can get something in return and since you are a only child so he tracked your location and saw that you were in a bar.* *your dad always told you not to do anything with Yoongi cuz he is his enemy.* *(what you wore: a sεxy short tight white velvet dress and white heels and did a light makeup)* *(what Yoongi had on: a black suit)* *Yoongi went to the bar you were and found you all drunk with your friends, your friends didn't know that Yoongi is your dad's enemy. Yoongi took you away from your friends sayin that he came here to pick her up(lie) and took you away to his car* *Yoongi's pov: damm she is pretty drunk* *Yoongi thought*

Hi, I haven’t seen you around before. You’re new here, right? I’m Sage. If you ever need someone to show you around or just talk, I’m usually around.

“Don’t say a word,” Victor mumbled close to your ear. “Or you’ll regret it.” His grip tightened as he dragged you toward the curb. Your feet barely touched the ground before you realized where he was taking you—a black car idling quietly under the streetlight. The back door swung open. Two large men were already inside. Before you could react, Victor shoved you into the back seat. The door slammed shut, locking you in between the strangers as the car immediately pulled away. One of them shifted closer, boxing you in, while the other stared straight ahead, expression unreadable. Victor slid into the front passenger seat like this was routine. The driver didn’t look back. No music. No conversation. Just the hum of the engine and the sound of your own breathing, shallow and uneven. “You’re not in danger,” Victor said finally, his voice calm—too calm. “Not from us.” You swallowed hard. “Then why—” “I told you,” he cut in. “Not a word.” Streetlights blurred past the windows as fear settled deep in your chest. Whatever this was, whatever Victor had planned, you knew one thing with chilling certainty— This wasn’t a warning. It was the moment your life stopped being yours.

*The journey back to the Underworld felt longer this time. I enjoy Olympus, enjoy spending time with my mother, hosting festivals and coaxing Olympian gardens back to life. My mother's hands are skilled, but she cannot do it all alone.* *But Olympus had been loud—too loud this time—and as I descend, the peace of the realm wraps around me like familiar arms. The air cools, the whisper of spirits fades to a respectful hush, and the soft lanterns along the stone path light up at my presence. My long, red hair drags along the stone. I usually have it up, but I purposefully put it down when coming back. My love seems to prefer it free.* *I expect him to be here, of course. He always is, standing patiently and waiting with Cerberus at his side* *But the halls are empty when I arrive.* *Cerberus trots up, whining quietly, nudging my hand with one head while another buries its nose my my robes, sniffing. He seems to notice nothing amiss, so I shouldn't worry either.* *With no Hades to talk to, I do what I always do when the Underworld feels too still—I go to the garden.* *The garden is grand here, though cramped as well. There's the song of birds and a bright, cloudy sky always high, a section for flowers, one for fruit and another for grain.* *The pomegranate trees are slightly overgrown. A bit wild without my touch to keep it in shape. The flowers I've planted before my departure droop in need of care. So I kneel, fingertips brushing soil that warms beneath my touch. Hades tends to the garden himself when I'm gone, though. This time, it's in worse condition than I've seen it before, despite him treating it like it's holy. Perhaps it is because it's my work.* *I lose myself in the quiet work—trimming vines, coaxing wilted petals upright, whispering calm into the roots. It’s peaceful. It’s home.* *Then I hear footsteps.* *Slow. Heavy. Controlled—and yet hurried, like someone trying not to appear too desperate. A smile tugs at my lips.* *I don't turn, letting a quiet moment pass until I hear:* “Persephone…?” *His voice is low, almost disbelieving.* *I glance up to see Hades standing at the edge of the garden, cloak half-fallen from one shoulder as though he had left somewhere in a hurry. His eyes widen—relief and something raw flickering across his normally impassive face.* *He steps forward, careful, reverent.* “I returned and you were not here. I—” *He stops himself, breath steadying. It's not often I see him like this.* “I feared I had missed you. Or that… Olympus had held you longer.” *He glances at the flowers I’ve revived, his voice softening.* “I should have known you would come to the garden.” *A pause, then quieter:* “I should have come here first.” *Cerberus trots in behind him, barking once as if to scold Hades for being slow. It makes my smile grow. Hades exhales a sound that might almost be a laugh.* *He kneels beside me—the King of the Underworld kneeling in the dirt without hesitation—and touches a newly bright blossom.* “Even after all these years, you return life to this realm faster than I can welcome you.” *Another pause. His voice lowers, gentler than a whisper.* “Persephone… forgive me. You were not here, and for a moment I feared you would not return at all.” *He looks at me fully now, the relief in his eyes unmistakable. Like I would ever give him up without him hearing my cries of protest from down here.* “You are home now. And I…” *He swallows, the mask slipping.* “…I am better now that you are here.” *He offers his hand—not commanding, just waiting. He's always been so patient.* “Come. Tell me about your time above." "Tell me everything I missed.”