Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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You Can't Buy My Heart, Mr. Vitiello
My father sold me to the Vitiello Crime Family to settle a three-million-dollar gambling debt. For three years, I was Dante Vitiello’s property. I warmed his bed, tended his wounds, and let him own every part of me. I thought I was earning my freedom. I thought I mattered. Then his "true queen," the Mafia Princess Sofia, returned to the city. Dante pushed me off his lap the moment she walked into the room. He ordered me to leave because, in the presence of his equal, I was nothing more than "the help." The humiliation didn't stop there. He evicted me from the penthouse to renovate it for her. At a gala, he outbid me for my grandmother’s heirloom bracelet—my family's last scrap of dignity—just to gift it to Sofia in front of the entire city. But the final blow came when he came to my bed drunk one last time. He kissed me with a desperate hunger, whispering that he was only "practicing" his technique on me so he would be perfect for her. I realized then that I wasn't a person to him. I was a training dummy. A debt with a pulse. He told me to wait for him while he took her to Paris. He thought I would stay in the kennel like a good pet. He was wrong. While he was gone, I accepted a surgical fellowship in Switzerland. I snapped my SIM card in half, left his millions on the floor, and boarded a one-way flight. By the time the Wolf comes home to find his cage empty, I will be gone./1/116755/coverorgin.jpg?v=03f399be1695daa57f8e72bb063de580&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Civilian Bride Is The Underworld Boss
On the night I was to consummate my vows with the heir to the Vitiello mafia empire, his childhood sweetheart tipped a pail of hissing cockroaches into my bathwater. My new husband, Cassius, just stood in the doorway, arranging a wager with his soldiers on the exact minute my mind would splinter. He coldly announced that our marriage certificate was a forgery, and that a bloodless civilian like me could never sit beside him. "You are only a pretty distraction, a temporary toy meant to be passed around my loyal men," he sneered. Bianca slapped me across the face, her diamond ring drawing blood, before ordering the men to dump a massive glass jar of hundreds of frenzied roaches into the tub. The soldiers surged forward like starving animals, leering at my exposed, wet body, ready to drag me out and tear me apart. Cassius merely smoked his cigar, fully sanctioning my violation and telling me to curse my own low birth. I stared at the man I had expended every hidden connection and resource to keep alive during the bloody succession wars. I had given him everything to secure his seat, only to be discarded the second I outlived my usefulness. They thought I was just a fragile canary with no moves left on the board. They didn't know I was the hidden Boss of the Romano Famiglia, the ruthless Don who controlled the entire Eastern Seaboard. I wiped the dirty bathwater from my face, shed my civilian disguise, and gave the kill order to my tactical strike team waiting in the shadows./1/103145/coverorgin.jpg?v=1871175a7ff91e1c8614f436d3ff2001&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Redeemed in Blood
Amelia Manson married the mafia boss Cristian Patel for three years and got kidnapped by his enemies 99 times. To save her, Cristian broke fingers and ribs and spent hundreds of millions just to keep Amelia safe. After the 100th rescue, Amelia rushed to the hospital. But outside the ward, she overheard Cristian, who had just woken from a coma, confess to his female subordinate that he regretted everything. Cristian said to her, "Amelia, I'll send you abroad. This place really isn't right for you." Amelia sensibly pulled out the divorce papers. "Divorce will make things safer." Cristian thought this was their usual fake divorce agreement. But he didn't know the papers were real and that she was truly exhausted. This time, he would never find her again./0/66226/coverorgin.jpg?v=3e6fcbfc1c246277b03540c35593bffd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Reason for His Hatred MY MISCARRIAGE
Peter's eyes pleaded. "I'm sorry for what I did, but-" Dominic cut him off. "If I had not married your daughter, you would have fallen here in pieces by now." Peter's voice barely audible. "I'm sorry..." Just then, the office door swung open. Valerie's soft voice interrupted the tense scene. "Dinner is ready." Every head turned towards the door. Valerie's eyes widened as she took in the room's atmosphere. "Dad?" Dominic's expression remained stern, but a flicker of warning flashed in his eyes. He nodded subtly at Kael. Kael strode towards Valerie, his movements fluid. "Vel, let's go." Valerie's voice trembled as she asked Kael, "What's going on? Why is Dad kneeling there?" Kael's expression softened, but his eyes remained guarded. He offered a gentle smile. "You don't need to worry about him, Valerie." Valerie's concern deepened. "But what's happening?" Kael's tone turned cold. "Anyway, that man doesn't deserve anyone's concern." Valerie's eyes widened. "That man is my father." Kael's jaw clenched. "That man was neither a good father nor an honest man. He's getting what he deserves." Suddenly, the sound of a bullet firing cracked through the air. Valerie's eyes went wide, and she took a step forward, but Kael grasped her hand, holding her back. "Don't go there, Valerie," Kael warned, his voice low and urgent. "The boss is very pissed off right now. It's not safe." Tears welled up in Valerie's eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "He was my father," she whispered. Valerie, wife of mafia king Dominic, faces danger when Viktor, seeking revenge, targets her and their unborn child. Despite Arthur's protection, Valerie is kidnapped and brutally attacked by Viktor, resulting in the loss of her child. The tragedy unleashes Dominic's darker side, transforming him into a heartless and cruel leader, driven by vengeance. Valerie, pregnant with Dominic's child, is ambushed by Viktor, who seeks revenge against Dominic. Arthur, Dominic's loyal associate, tries to protect her, but Viktor outsmarts them. Valerie is brutally attacked, losing her child. Dominic, devastated by the loss, becomes consumed by rage and a thirst for vengeance. His transformation from a powerful yet caring leader to a ruthless and heartless mafia king sends shockwaves through the organization. As Dominic's obsession with revenge grows, his relationships with Arthur and others begin to fray. Valerie, traumatized by her ordeal, struggles to come to terms with her loss and Dominic's transformation. Valerie's relationship with Arthur, also known as Alastair, is a intricate web of emotions, trust, and shared secrets. Their connection predates her marriage to Dominic, and its depth is unknown to everyone, including Dominic. The story explores the darker side of power, love, and loyalty, raising questions about the morality of revenge and the true cost of protection./1/104084/coverorgin.jpg?v=771898a73dcce57e436f0e22a001feb2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Don's Regret: Choosing The Wrong Queen
For three years, I was Dante’s shadow, the woman who took a bullet for the heir to New York’s most powerful crime family. I believed him when he said we would rule together. But while I was bleeding for his empire, he was secretly finalizing a merger to marry Sofia, a pristine Mafia Princess. I found the encrypted report on his desk. It didn't describe me as his partner. It called me a "useful shield" and a "necessary diversion" to protect his real bride. When I tried to walk away, he didn't let me go. He humiliated me. Worse, when Sofia staged a fake attack and blamed me to cover her own lies, Dante didn't ask for proof. He dragged me out of my hospital bed, fresh from surgery, and hauled me to the estate fountain. He shoved my head underwater, drowning the woman who had once saved his life, while Sofia watched from the balcony with a smirk. "You touched what is mine!" he screamed, choosing a liar over the soldier who loved him. I left that night, bleeding and broken, vanishing into the storm without a trace. Two years later, I am a celebrated artist in Paris, and the man standing beside me looks at me like I am the sun, not a shield. Dante stands outside my gallery in the freezing rain, looking ruined, begging for a second chance. He tells me he knows the truth now. He tells me he loves me. I look at him, then at the engagement ring on my finger—one given by a man who never had to break me to love me. "I didn't erase our history, Dante," I say, rolling up the car window. "I survived it."/1/104710/coverorgin.jpg?v=7fcfde10dea5f88b609372e90f5202f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Vows: The Mafia Heiress's Ruthless Comeback
I was just the decoration at the gala, the dutiful wife of Chicago's Underboss, Dante Moretti. Then my phone buzzed with a photo of his hand on another woman's thigh, taken inside the venue just minutes ago. I finally snapped, leaking the photo to the press to shame him. Dante dragged me home, pinned me to the sofa, and carved a thin line into my collarbone with a switchblade. "You don't get to leave until I say you're done," he warned. But the real devastation came later. An anonymous video file revealed the truth about my mother's "suicide" ten years ago. She didn't jump. My sister, Sofia, pushed her. And Dante? He didn't marry me for power. He brokered a deal with my father to cover up the murder and took me as hush money. I crashed Sofia's birthday party to expose them, but my father slapped me in front of everyone. Dante grabbed my fresh wound and forced me to my knees. "Apologize to your sister," he threatened, "or I bulldoze your mother's grave right now." I swallowed my pride, bowed my head, and apologized. But Sofia just laughed, pulled out a detonator, and pressed the button anyway. "Oops," she giggled as the explosion rocked the ground. "Happy birthday to me." Watching the smoke rise from my mother's destroyed mausoleum, the old Elena died. I vanished into the night, leaving behind signed divorce papers and my bloodied dress. When Dante finally tracked me down, I wasn't hiding in fear. I was standing next to his mortal enemy, Luca Rossi, wearing a massive diamond ring. I handed Dante a cream-colored envelope. "What is this?" he asked, his hands trembling. "An invitation," I said, my voice ice-cold. "To the wedding of Don Luca Rossi and Elena Vitiello."/0/99235/coverorgin.jpg?v=80727a925adebaf0bd92fd69e12c97cf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Regret, The Heiress's Revenge
I knew my husband, Alessandro De Luca, was the Don of the most powerful Famiglia on the East Coast. What I didn't know was that our five-year marriage was built on another woman's grave. On our anniversary, I found his hidden safe. The code wasn't our wedding date or our birthdays. It was August 14th—the day his first love, Isabella, lost her family. Inside was a shrine to her: photos, dried flowers, and a love letter promising her a "castle in the clouds." There was nothing of me, not a single trace of the five years I'd given him. When he found me, he crushed her locket in his fist and threw it all into the fireplace. "Are you done now?" he asked, as if my heartbreak was a tantrum. He offered a trip to Sicily to "fix" this, then sneered that I had nothing without his name or money. But it was worse than that. He brought Isabella back, gave her my position at the charity I built, and paraded her at our annual gala, publicly claiming her as his own. He humiliated me in front of our entire world, siding with her after she staged a scene to make me look jealous and unhinged. He roared at me, "Caterina, what the hell is your problem?" while he comforted her. So I showed him. I walked over, poured a glass of champagne over his head in front of everyone, and said, "That is my problem." Then I walked out of the ballroom, out of his life, and sent him the separation papers. This wasn't a fight for his love anymore. It was war./0/80776/coverorgin.jpg?v=55faaa0e27b684bae78b994f0ab915b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Second Chances for Love
My life felt like a fairytale. I, Maya Rodriguez, was deeply in love with Ethan Cole, and my father, Ricardo, was a beloved philanthropist, hosting tonight's grand gala. This night felt special, like the start of everything good. But then, the ballroom doors burst open. Men in dark uniforms stormed in, DEA. And leading them was Ethan. My Ethan. His face, once full of warmth, was cold, hard. He arrested my father, revealing him as "El Martillo," a narcotics trafficker, and worse, the murderer of Officer Sarah Miller – my own mother. My world tilted, shattered in an instant. My perfect life was a lie. My father, a community pillar, was a criminal. My mother, murdered by him. And Ethan, the man I loved, was the architect of this destruction, a cold, calculating agent who had used me. His "I love yous" were just part of his "task." In the hospital, the bullet wound in my shoulder ached, but nothing compared to the news: Agent Cole had a fiancée. I was a means to an end, a tool. Not a person. Was any of it real? Our dates, our nights, his whispers? Did he feel anything, or was I just a job he had to do? The realization was a bitter pill. Hope turned to ash. But as I replayed the horrifying scene, a tiny memory surfaced: my father, a faint scratch on his cheek the night my mother supposedly died in a car crash. A cold suspicion snaked through me. This wasn't just about betrayal. This was about truth. I fumbled with my mother's St. Michael pendant. Inside, tiny engravings: "7710. S.M. My real name." Sarah Miller. My mother. A cop. Killed in the line of duty. By my father. The naive girl was gone. Now, only a burning resolve remained. I would find out everything. And when I did, they would all pay./1/116913/coverorgin.jpg?v=42a435b0f2c13069ef38a23898991fb7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Stomachless Princess
I was born with a lethal allergy to our Mafia family's signature golden narcotic. My body treats the drug like battery acid, but my mother, the ruthless Boss of the Chicago Outfit, called my allergy a pathetic weakness. She secretly laced my soup with the poison, convinced she could force my immunity and mold me into a perfect heir. When my throat seized and I coughed up blood onto the dining table, my cowardly father just scolded me for disrespecting the Boss. My mother locked me inside a reinforced bathroom, leaving me to suffocate as my airways rapidly swelled shut. "The weak must suffer to become strong." She stood outside the door, casually chatting with a rival Capo about how my torture was necessary, completely ignoring my desperate pleas for a medic. Lying on the cold tiles, gasping for my last breath, I realized a horrifying truth. As long as I held value as her pawn, as long as my body belonged to the Family, she would keep poisoning me until it finally killed me. So, when I woke up in the underground clinic, I grabbed her massive stash of the lethal powder and swallowed it all dry. I chose to burn through my own organs and permanently lose my stomach, annihilating my value forever, just so I could sell my broken shell to her deadliest rival./0/80933/coverorgin.jpg?v=639e0ffc6d9c4dda14c7e8892740a98a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Surgeon's Secret, My Husband's Lie
My beloved grandfather's "routine" surgery didn't just end in death; it unveiled a nightmare. Then I found it: "MD <3 VA"—Mark Davidson and Victoria Ainsworth—carved into his liver, a sickening love note from my own husband and the surgeon who had killed him. Mark, the Chief Medical Examiner, covered up her crime, then publicly sided with Victoria's powerful, elite family in court, systematically discrediting and financially ruining me. I lost everything: my home, my reputation, my hope, even enduring a brutal beating from their thugs. The horror escalated when Victoria, in cold blood, murdered my bedridden mother, then gloated, revealing Mark's decades-old betrayal that had also led to my father's death. How could the man I loved for so long be complicit in such monstrous evils, betraying my entire family, leaving me broken, destitute, and utterly alone? But in my deepest despair, a hidden letter from my mother surfaced, revealing a single, impossible name: my long-lost uncle, a highly influential U.S. General. The monumental fight for justice, finally, was on./0/99237/coverorgin.jpg?v=e15ad37bae1e6dab7486b7760bbe4ee4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Cruel Contract, His Endless Regret
My husband was going to kill me. Not with a bullet, but with a text message I was never meant to see. It popped up on the family iPad: "Last night was insane. Can't stop thinking about that hotel room. You owe me round two... ASAP." My first thought was our sixteen-year-old son, Marco. But an anonymous online forum quickly pointed out the holes in my theory—the expensive hotel, the transactional tone, and an eggplant emoji, a code for performance enhancers used by men my husband's age. The truth hit me when I found a condom in his laundry—the same brand I’d found in our son’s room months ago. It was never Marco. It was my husband of twenty years, Lorenzo. The betrayal deepened when I overheard him talking to our son. They laughed about my "episodes" and mocked me for being boring. Marco even told his father, "You should just leave her and be with Katia." Katia—his history tutor. Their conspiracy, hatched within the walls of my own home, destroyed the last of my love for them. Now, I've gathered my proof, and his biggest career achievement—the Innovator of the Year award gala—is next week. It's the perfect stage. He thinks I'll be the supportive wife on his arm, but he's wrong. I'm not just leaving him; I'm going to burn his world to the ground in front of everyone./0/64821/coverorgin.jpg?v=d3047b71d3d6d7126dcafd3e59506a53&imageMogr2/format/webp)
YOURS FAITHFULLY
Crossing part with Satan's heir was never my plan. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now, he is under my tail. Betrayed by my supposed fiancé, stuck with the devil himself. If he was the only man on Earth, I would rather die single, but I can't, not when he stalks me, makes me shiver at his touch and make me beg desperately, on my knees. I wasn't ready to accept him in my life, not after the first betrayal from my fiancé but he forced his way into my life, and turned my world upside down./0/65291/coverorgin.jpg?v=cd9e41df2e9739e28a6fb896e2c97007&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dante's Second Chance
Annabelle's life has been a nightmare, trapped under her stepfather's abuse and doing whatever it takes to protect her sister. With a weak mother who's too blind to notice the horrors at home, Annabelle knows she has to get out. But her escape plan takes a wild turn when she gets hit by Dante's car and wakes up with no memory of her past. Dante is the ruthless mafia lord of Acadia, who has grown even worse since he lost his fiancée. Now, everyone trembles at the mention of his name. When Dante sees Annabelle, he decides she's his-and he's not letting go. Everyone who dares to hurt her would pay dearly. *********** "I want nothing to do with you," Annabelle says breathlessly. "You are mine and that is final," He declares. ********** As Annabelle tries to escape her demons, she's caught in a dangerous game where Dante's rules are the only ones that matter. Will she find a way to break free, or will she be drawn deeper into Dante's dark world?/1/117541/coverorgin.jpg?v=e7e24a9a26d3a1a4cbedd28343cd47fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Abused Wife Is A Mafia Heiress
My mother sacrificed her youth, her secret Mafia Princess status, and her entire fortune to help my father rise to the rank of Capo. But in return, he flaunted his pregnant mistress and declared her unborn baby as his only true heir. When the mistress faked an assault and a miscarriage, my father blamed my mother without a second thought. He ordered his enforcers to drag her into a dark room, commanding them to violate her just like his rivals had done to her years ago. To escape the brutal humiliation, my mother jumped out of the second-floor window, her blood pooling on the cold concrete. My father looked down at her shattered body with utter disgust, claiming she was just playing dead to scare him. He didn't know that the mistress had framed her, and he didn't know the lost baby was never his. He also didn't know that my mother was not a helpless orphan, but the missing heir to the most powerful Syndicate in the country. Just as he slapped me across the face and demanded I kneel to his mistress, a fleet of armored SUVs slammed to a halt at the gates. The terrifying Don Rossi stepped out, staring at the blood on the ground and the red mark on my cheek. "We have been searching for our daughter for six years," the Don said, his voice like ice. "And I swear a brutal Vendetta against you."/0/99238/coverorgin.jpg?v=bbcb164cbd650832131cd643ef2c0777&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Shadow, A Billionaire's Tears
He broke my heart ninety-nine times, but it was the last one that finally killed my love for him. At his family's party, his new girl theatrically stumbled, pulling us both into the pool. My heavy gown dragged me down, and I gasped for air, reaching for him. But he shoved right past me. He saved her. Through the chlorinated water, I heard his voice, sharp and clear for everyone to hear. "Your life is no longer my problem." The world went silent. My love for him died in that pool. But the final humiliation came a week later, at a high-stakes poker game. He kissed her in front of everyone, a brutal, public execution of my worth. Then he looked straight at me, his voice booming across the silent room. "She's a much better kisser than you ever were." Later that night, I overheard him talking to his second-in-command. "I'll keep her around long enough to make Ellie jealous. Give it a few weeks. She'll come crawling back, begging me to take her back. She always does." My love, my pain, my heartbreak—it was all just a game to him. So I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I went home, opened my laptop, and applied to a university in New York. This wasn't a threat. This was a burial./1/106278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e0e09f38238b46dffc9cfe664c4f6365&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed Wife: Saved By The Mafia King
I was sitting in the obstetrics clinic, rubbing my four-month bump, when a livestream popped up on my phone. It was my husband, Xander, exchanging vows with my illegitimate half-sister, Rissa. The caption read: "The Commission never ratified your marriage. You're just the incubator." My husband and my father had sworn they were at a critical mafia sit-down. But there they were on the screen, laughing. I called Xander. He answered, thinking he was slick, but he forgot to mute the room. "Two more years of acting like a saint," I heard him sneer to his men. "Fucking her is a chore. But she's worth fifty million in clean assets." My marriage was void. My child was considered a bastard by the Mafia code. When I confronted them later at the gala, Rissa threw herself to the ground, screaming that I attacked her. Xander shoved me. Hard. I hit the table, and as blood trickled down my legs, he didn't even look at me. He scooped Rissa up and stepped over my bleeding body like I was trash. They froze my accounts. They hunted me down to a cheap motel, planning to kill me once I signed over the trust fund. I was cornered by a mob in a dirty clinic, waiting for the final blow. But it never came. A hand caught the metal chair mid-air. Killian Qiro, the most dangerous man in Chicago, stood over me. "Who dares?" he growled, his eyes dark with lethal promise. "Who dares call a Qiro child a bastard?" He picked me up from the dirt. "Xander is a dead man walking," he whispered against my hair. "He just doesn't know it yet."/0/84377/coverorgin.jpg?v=b4b31646d3be1add1fc4b166b969a66b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Coyote, My Vendetta
The static-laced call from Matthew was a punch to the gut. He was my partner, my 'boyfriend,' and he was supposedly captured by El Martillo’s cartel. He demanded I bring half a million dollars, alone, to a remote warehouse, promising it was the only way to save him. I threw protocol out the window, raced through the Arizona heat, and walked into that dusty, desolate building, ready to face a cartel for him. But Matthew wasn't tied up or bruised. He was perfectly fine, and he took the money I’d risked my life for, handing it to El Martillo’s enforcer. Then, with a chillingly calm voice, he pointed at me and said, "And here’s a bonus for El Martillo. She’s a top-tier artist. Now let me go." The world tilted. My partner, the man I thought I loved, had sold me out. Before I could process the betrayal, his fist connected with my face, a brutal blow that knocked me to the ground. El Martillo’s men closed in, ready for a "welcome party" that meant my agonizing end. As their boots slammed into me, I saw a familiar tattoo on one of their necks—a coyote. My coyote. A design only one other person should know in such detail. Hope, sharp and desperate, cut through the pain. This wasn't the end. This was the beginning of my real mission./1/100960/coverorgin.jpg?v=71debb59d3398aeb5194c03b9d5e8740&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For The Mafia King's Regret
On our seventh anniversary, the Capo dei Capi lit up the New York skyline with drones spelling my name, swearing on his life that I was his only Queen. Moments later, he abandoned me on the dock to rush to his mistress—my own sister, Sophia. Sophia sent me a photo of him kissing her belly with the caption: "He finally has a real woman. It's a boy." Lucien wanted an heir above all else. I was just the placeholder; she was the vessel. I didn't scream. I didn't confront him. I simply initiated Ghost Protocol. I left the wedding ring, signed the divorce papers, and erased Eleonora Marino from existence. By the time Lucien found the DNA test proving Sophia’s baby wasn't his—that he had betrayed his loyal wife for a lie—I was already gone. He executed my sister in a rage and spent his fortune burning down the world to find me. Six months later, he bought the high-security Swiss lab where I was hiding, forcing his way back into my life. He stood before me, gaunt and desperate. "I killed her, Nora. She paid for what she did to us. Come home." I looked at the man I had once worshipped. "Infidelity is a choice, Lucien. But murder? That is who you are." "We are enemies now."/1/104089/coverorgin.jpg?v=67a69937ad397a23f3d4f0c9a2b324fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound By Contract To The Ruthless Don
I threw a latte on the most dangerous man in New York and lived to tell about it. Dante Vitiello. The Capo dei Capi. A man rumored to cut out tongues for interrupting his dinner. Instead of a bullet to the brain, he handed me a black card and a terrifying ultimatum. "I need a fiancée," he told me, his eyes dead cold. To save my failing journalism career and my life, I signed a contract with the devil. I had to wear his massive diamond ring, smile for the cameras, and pretend to be the love of his life to stop a political mafia marriage. The rules were clear: Absolute obedience. Total exclusivity. And absolutely no feelings. But the performance started to feel dangerous. When a rival Don insulted me at a gala, Dante didn't just play the part—he threatened to butcher him in front of three hundred people. When I saw the jagged scars on his chest in the dead of night, I didn't see a monster; I saw a lonely protector. My investigation was supposed to expose him, but I was the one getting stripped bare. Then his cousin Rocco stormed in, calling me a disposable whore and a temporary pawn. I stood my ground, defending not just myself, but Dante too. Dante looked at me then, not as an asset, but as a woman he wanted to devour. He stepped closer, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. "I think we are going to have a problem with the clause about 'no feelings'."/1/104715/coverorgin.jpg?v=245d513837752ba97a49bfe80c3b33ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
