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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
You Chose Her, Now Call Me Queen

You Chose Her, Now Call Me Queen

I sat in a room waiting for my fiancé to set our wedding date, but instead, I received a video of him bleeding in a clinic. He wasn't there for me; he was paying the price for a blood-diamond purse he’d bought for a Mafia Princess named Lucia. I had spent five years living in the shadow of his underground fights, constantly fearing the day he’d come home in a body bag. Today, he’d emptied our wedding fund to buy Lucia an armored car, leaving me with nothing but the chilling realization that I was merely a placeholder. When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain, swearing it was just a debt of honor. He laughed off my threats to leave, convinced that my heart was too soft to ever truly walk away. I watched as he prioritized Lucia's shrill demands over our future, his arrogance blind to the fact that my patience had finally turned to ash. I had survived his brawls and his lies, but I was done being collateral in a game I never asked to play. How many times could I forgive a man who traded my life for another woman’s vanity? Why had I stayed so long, waiting for a man who didn't even know how to protect his own future? I walked into the Syndicate clinic, not to nurse his wounds, but to reclaim my passport. I didn't look back as I signed the papers to disappear into a high-security black site in Iceland. I was finished with Ciro, the soldier who fought for everyone except the woman waiting for him in the dark.
Protected By The Enforcer: My Ex-Husband's Regret

Protected By The Enforcer: My Ex-Husband's Regret

The rejection letter from the private security school arrived on a Tuesday. It stated clearly that the single slot allocated to my son, Danny, had been filled by another boy. My husband, a high-ranking Capo, had signed away our son’s protection to make room for his mistress’s bastard. He sneered at me, calling Danny "soft," and sent him to an unguarded cabin in the north to toughen up. Three days later, the Russians took him. When the courier arrived, there was no ransom demand. Just a package containing a shred of blue cotton with a green T-Rex, soaked in black, stiff blood. Tom didn't shed a tear. He poured a scotch, stepped over me as I wept on the floor, and blamed me for coddling the boy. Overwhelmed by the silence of a house that would never hear my son's laughter again, I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills to escape the pain. But the darkness didn't last. I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sunlight hit my face. "Mommy?" Danny stood in the doorway, wearing his dinosaur pajamas, whole and alive. I looked at the calendar. It was May 15th. The day the letter arrived. The grief in my chest calcified into cold rage. I knew about the skimming. I knew about the fake widow status. I knew exactly how to bury my husband. I picked up the phone and dialed the one number no wife was ever supposed to call directly—the Enforcer. "I have evidence of treason," I said. "And I'm bringing the proof."
From Trash To Treasure: Masked Heiress

From Trash To Treasure: Masked Heiress

I was the invisible failure of the Goff family, hiding my medical genius behind a report card full of Fs and a slumped posture. One rainy night, I found a man bleeding out in a dark alley behind the school gymnasium, a knife protruding from his gut. To keep the police from digging into my secrets, I dragged the dying stranger to my bedroom and stitched him up using a hidden surgical kit. I thought I was being careful, but my cousin Cleora caught a glimpse of the blood and immediately alerted my fiancé's wealthy family. By morning, my world collapsed as my future in-laws stormed the manor, throwing an annulment agreement at my feet. They called me a "loose woman" and "million-dollar trash," while my own housekeeper gleefully testified against me. At school, the word "SLUT" was spray-painted across my locker in jagged red letters, and the boy I was supposed to marry looked at me with nothing but cold revulsion. I didn't understand why they were so eager to destroy me before even asking for the truth. I was the one who had spent years protecting this family's reputation, yet they were throwing me to the wolves over a single misunderstanding. I felt a surge of cold fury as I realized my loyalty had been met with nothing but betrayal. Everything changed when the "dying" stranger finally walked down the stairs, shirtless and bandaged, revealing himself as Braylon Lancaster, the most powerful man in the city. He didn't just defend me; he froze my fiancé's entire family fortune with a single phone call. As my in-laws fled in terror, a courier arrived with a five-carat pink diamond from the head of the city's most dangerous crime syndicate. The note read: "The debt is acknowledged." Suddenly, I wasn't just a failure anymore-I was the most sought-after woman in the underworld.
Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Dark Don

Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Dark Don

I spent three years hating Damien Castillo, the ruthless mafia Don who kidnapped me from my engagement party and ruined my reputation. But in the end, it was my perfect fiancé, Julian, and my sweet half-sister, Sophia, who slipped the deadly poison into my wine. As the venom burned through my veins in that freezing cellar, I watched Julian smile. He and Sophia had orchestrated my brutal death. She had been sleeping in his bed all along, intentionally miscarrying his bastard child just to frame me as 'impure' and strip me of my family's protection. My own father used me as a political pawn, letting them throw me away like garbage. And Damien? The monster I had fought and despised for years marched straight into a suicide ambush for me. He was riddled with bullets, turning his body into a human shield just to buy me a few more seconds of life. "Touch her and you die." I died in that blood-soaked basement, clutching his lifeless body, suffocating on my own blind trust. Why did I ever believe the golden boy who betrayed me? Why did I fight the only man who truly loved me? Opening my eyes again, the stench of copper and mold was gone, replaced by the scent of Cuban cigars and black silk. I was back in 1928, on the exact night Damien stormed my engagement party and locked me in his penthouse. This time, when the ruthless Don approached me, I didn't scream or run back to my killers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
Betrothed To The Mafia CEO

Betrothed To The Mafia CEO

Frank Falkner, the fearsome leader of a powerful Mexican drug cartel, maintained his control through a network of loyal spies and corrupt cops. Amidst this dangerous world, one person held his heart: Melissa. Frank would do anything to protect her. But when danger lurks. His family legacy hanging in the balance. He sorts to help her. To shield Melissa from his enemies, Frank proposed a fake marriage, believing it would ensure her safety and loyalty. Frank, who never accepted refusal, enforced this arrangement with his usual ruthlessness. Though treated like hired help when it came to his rules, Melissa was the object of his fierce protectiveness. Over time, Frank's feelings for Melissa deepened. No longer just his ward, she became a woman who attracted him deeply. He touched her with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation. Melissa, initially compliant out of necessity, began to see Frank as her hero, a savior in her tumultuous life. She developed feelings for him, seeing him as her new high amid the chaos. This emotional awakening led Frank to make a bold decision. Realizing the depth of his love for Melissa, he asked her to marry him for real, a proposal born out of genuine affection and a desire for a life together. Understanding her inescapable reality, Melissa accepted his proposal. She knew her destiny was intertwined with his and that leaving was not an option. She says yes, and it sealed their love.
I Left The Jester For The King

I Left The Jester For The King

"Little Siren: I miss your hands on me." That message lit up the screen of a burner phone I found in my fiancé's jacket pocket while he was in the shower. Franco Moretti, the rising star of the Vitiello crime family, treated me like a fragile glass doll. He claimed he was "saving himself" for our wedding night out of respect. But the phone told a different story. I unlocked it and found three years of betrayal. It wasn't just a fling. It was Camilla, a girl from high school I had befriended out of pity. I watched their history unfold. He complained that I was cold. He called me a statue. Then I saw the invoice. He had bought two identical pink diamond engagement rings. One for me, and one for her. Worse, he had stolen my grandmother' s heirloom jade bracelet-a piece of history meant for his bride-and given it to his mistress. "I need her name to get the chair," he texted her. "You are my true Queen." I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I realized I wasn't a person to him; I was a ladder. Leaving him would be too easy. Leaving is what victims do. I walked to my laptop and opened a new document. I wasn't just going to cancel the wedding. I was going to broadcast his ruin to the entire underworld, and our wedding would be my stage. Then, I picked up the phone and dialed the one number my father forbade me to call. "I accept," I told the deep voice on the other end. "You understand what you are agreeing to, Gianna?" Enzo Falcone asked. "I understand," I said, looking at the New York skyline. "You want an alliance. I want a weapon."