A Miao
15 Published Stories
A Miao's Books and Stories
From Mafia Wife to Rival's Queen
Mafia After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him—all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him." From Burden To Unstoppable Queen
Modern My fiancé, Caleb Holder, saw me as a burden, a stain on his perfect image. In my past life, his constant cruelty and public humiliation drove me to suicide.
After I died, the truth came out. His mistress, Erica, had faked her pregnancy and the miscarriage she blamed on me. While the world celebrated their "true love," I was just a tragic, forgotten fool.
But then I opened my eyes.
I was back on the night of the gala, moments before Erica would throw herself down the stairs.
In a few minutes, Caleb would believe her lies without question, slap me until I bled, and call me a monster in front of his family.
"You evil, jealous monster! You tried to kill my child!"
Last time, his words destroyed me. This time, they would be my battle cry. Five Years Of Lies: The Wife's Awakening
Modern To an orphan like me, the Donovans’ approval was oxygen. I thought I was living a fairy tale as Ivan’s fiancée, finally finding a place to land.
That illusion shattered the night I overheard my future father-in-law whisper behind a study door.
"We can't keep paying Kayla forever. If this comes out, it ruins the merger."
The name hung in the air like toxic smoke.
Driven by a sickening gut feeling, I dug deeper. I found a tuition bill for a prestigious kindergarten for a boy named Leo—paid for by the Donovans.
I disguised myself as a pest control worker and infiltrated the address on the bill.
Inside the playroom of a massive mansion, I found the smoking gun.
It wasn’t a receipt. It was a commissioned oil painting.
It depicted my fiancé, Ivan, smiling with his arm around a beautiful woman, a young boy standing between them.
The plaque read: *Our Happy Family - 2023.*
They weren't just cheating; they were living a parallel life. They thought I was just the naive, grateful scholarship student who would never look too closely.
They were wrong.
At our lavish fifth-anniversary party, in front of five hundred of Manhattan's elite, Ivan waited for my loving toast.
Instead, I signaled the AV booth.
The giant screen behind us flickered to life. But it didn't show our wedding photos.
It showed the painting.
And then, I played the recordings. Betrayed By The Don: Her Ultimate Escape
Mafia On our anniversary, I was basting the roast when my husband’s encrypted laptop lit up on the kitchen counter.
Alex Bradley, the ruthless Underboss of New York, never made mistakes. But tonight, he left a chat room open.
The notification shattered my world: "Is the idiot eating the dog food yet?"
It was from his mistress, Charlotte.
They were betting on whether I would eat the red velvet cake she had spiked with her Rottweiler’s excrement.
I realized then that my marriage was a long-con. I was just a "placeholder" wife to secure his promotion to Don.
To survive, I had to play the part.
Alex sat on the bed, feeding me the tainted cake with a loving smile.
"Eat up, Jillian," he purred. "It’s to die for."
I swallowed every bite of the filth, forcing myself not to vomit until he left the room.
The humiliation didn't stop there.
I found out our marriage license was void.
He publicly bought me a twenty-million-dollar necklace at a gala, then abandoned me to face the debt, forcing me to hand over my grandmother’s earrings as collateral.
He even watched calmly as his family beat me for a prank Charlotte orchestrated.
But the final blow came when I overheard him planning our "romantic" getaway.
"The blizzard hits Friday," he told Charlotte. "It’ll look like a tragic accident. Hypothermia."
He thought he was taking a lamb to the slaughter.
He didn’t know I had been counting down the days.
When we arrived at the cabin and he went to prepare my "accident," I didn't cry.
I tossed one of my boots over the cliff edge to stage my death.
Then I climbed into the black extraction van waiting in the snow.
Alex Bradley thought he had killed his wife.
He had no idea he had just set her free. The Invisible Girlfriend's New Start
Modern After three years of being the agreeable, invisible girlfriend to my tech CEO boyfriend, Edward, I finally left him. Then Brody Frazier, his charming rival, swept into my life, determined to use me to get under Edward's skin.
But at a tech gala, Edward cornered me, publicly declaring his love and flashing a "promise ring" he claimed he'd bought for me weeks ago.
He did this right after his high school crush, Jeannette, announced their engagement, and right before he accused me of humiliating him.
He insisted his feelings for Jeannette were a "youthful fantasy" and that I was his "anchor," his "stability." He said he loved me.
But I remembered the truth. I remembered the small, hand-carved wooden bird he'd once made.
A gift he'd had me send to Jeannette years ago, along with a love note he dictated himself.
And I knew his desperate confession wasn't love. It was damage control. Blinded By Her Betrayal
Romance The scent of lilies was thick, sweet, and suffocating.
It was my wedding day, a grand affair Chloe had meticulously planned, even insisting on a custom-designed lighting fixture for the venue.
Then the world exploded: metal twisted, glass shattered, and a crushing impact stole my sight, leaving me in a terrifying void.
Chloe stayed by my side, weeping as the doctors delivered their grim prognosis: permanent blindness.
She promised to be my "eyes," to take care of me, and swore our extravagant wedding would still happen, a beacon of eternal devotion.
Her words were a lifeline in the suffocating dark, and I clung to them, believing in a future where her love would guide me.
But then, the flickers started, ghost images resolving into light.
My sight was returning, yet an instinct deep inside told me to keep it a secret.
I continued to play the blind man, observing, listening, hidden in plain sight.
One evening, feigning sleep, I heard Chloe whisper to Mark Stone, her brother-in-law.
"Are you sure this was the only way?" she asked.
"It was the cleanest way," he murmured, "An accident. Now he's helpless. He'll never find out about us."
My heart stopped as I saw Mark kiss her-long and deep-before they spoke of my "inheritance" and a future built on my ruin.
They planned it all: the accident, my blindness, my slow, humiliating descent into a "charity case" to be exploited.
The betrayal was a physical blow, a cold, black void far worse than any darkness they thought they' d cast me into.
They thought me a sightless fool, an easy target.
They had no idea who I truly was, or what I was capable of.
A silent, burning rage ignited within me, hardening into an unbreakable resolve.
They wanted a show?
I would give them one tonight at the wedding-a spectacle they would never forget, where their carefully constructed lies would unravel. The Star Maker's Revenge
Romance I watched the man I loved, the star I' d built from scratch, standing on a stadium stage.
My heart hammered, knowing he was about to call me up, to begin our dreamed-of life together.
But then he smiled, a brilliant, camera-ready smile that didn' t reach his eyes.
"I' d like to welcome to the stage, my fiancée… Nicole Lawrence!"
The name hit me like a physical blow as the polished pop-country princess glided out to kiss him.
Later, when I confronted him with our old demo tape, he stared at me with cold, empty eyes.
"I' m sorry, I don' t know you. You should probably go home."
Then I heard his manager whisper: "Good job. The amnesia story is perfect. We can' t have any small-town baggage dragging you down."
My blood ran cold. It wasn' t amnesia. It was a choice. I was baggage.
The humiliation only escalated.
Nicole publicly mocked me, then staged a fall, screaming I pushed her.
Caleb rushed to her, snarling, "What the hell is wrong with you, Stella? Get her out of here! She' s poison to my career."
Security guards dragged me out, dumping me on the sidewalk.
Days later, Nicole broke my father' s beloved guitar, his legacy.
And Caleb, seeing her theatrical tears, finished the job, stomping on the splintered wood.
He blacklisted my name, starved me of work, and used his fame to have me arrested for a staged poisoning attempt.
I became a pariah, selling my father' s precious mementos to survive.
How could he do this? How could a lifetime of love and shared dreams be erased so easily?
Was I just a forgotten memory, or something worse?
Was this all part of a calculated plan, or was he truly that cruel?
My world shattered, left homeless and brutally attacked in an alleyway, I lay dying.
But then, a shadowy figure appeared, a hand reached down.
I woke up in a sterile room, face-to-face with Wesley Hughes, "The Wanderer."
He told me the truth: Caleb' s betrayal was a calculated move, and Nicole' s malice was intentional.
He had proof.
And more importantly, he revealed our fathers' long-lost pact.
My father' s legacy, our legacy, was waiting to be reclaimed.
This wasn' t the end. This was the beginning of my reckoning. Erase Me? I'll Erase You
Modern The air in the upstairs hallway was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, and I paused, my hand hovering over my bedroom door.
For three decades, I was the unseen force behind my husband, the Governor of Texas, building his dynasty brick by painful brick.
But then, voices from my son' s room shredded that illusion: my daughters-in-law, their hushed tones revealing a chilling plot.
"Stress-induced heart failure within five years," one whispered, detailing my supposed "natural decline" as a pre-programmed exit for a new woman, Sabrina, my husband' s dead college sweetheart' s daughter.
My breath hitched-they were discussing a "system" and a payoff for my demise, orchestrated by my own husband and sons.
The family I built, the sons I raised, saw me as nothing more than a placeholder, destined to conveniently die so a younger, 'fresher' face could inherit my life.
A cold dread, sharp and sickening, turned into a burning rage that pulsed through my veins.
They wanted me gone? They wanted a compliant, tragic matriarch?
I ripped open the door to Andrew' s room, my voice dangerously calm as I asked, "Tell me more about this 'system' ."
They were speechless, frozen in fear, but I wasn't going to die quietly for their convenience.
I was going to burn their carefully constructed world down. The Jilted Bride's Revenge
Romance My New York apartment smelled of lilies and roses, and my perfect Hamptons wedding was just three days away.
Mark Olsen was everything I'd ever wanted: charming, successful, and devoted.
I was about to become Mrs. Mark Olsen, stepping into the solid, perfect future we' d planned.
Then a text from an unknown number shattered my world: "Can't believe you're still going through with this sham wedding. Last weekend was proof you belong with ME. Call it off like you promised, or I will. - T."
My breath hitched.
The words swam before my eyes.
Mark was supposedly at a finance conference that very weekend, but my investigative dive into "T" (Tiffany Hayes, his high school ex) revealed glossy photos of her at his hotel, captured during his supposed conference.
To add insult to injury, Tiffany was already engaged to another man, Alex Walker.
I wasn't just betrayed; I was Mark's desperate fallback plan.
Every cherished moment, every promise over our year-long engagement, felt like a sickening, elaborate lie.
Why propose, why plan this lavish wedding, if I was just a convenient consolation prize?
The thought was humiliating, the destruction of everything I believed our relationship was.
My excitement curdled into icy rage.
I wouldn't just call off the wedding.
I decided to expose them both.
This wouldn't be a celebration of love; it would be their public downfall, and I had just the stage for it: our pre-wedding brunch. My CEO, My Prison
Billionaires My 30th birthday, and my wife, the brilliant tech CEO Izzy Hayes, was late-again.
Living in her opulent New York apartment, I, Ethan Cole, a once-promising surgeon, felt like a ghost, a consequence of a transactional marriage that saved my mother' s life five years ago and simultaneously crushed my own dreams.
Fed up with her absolute indifference, I finally decided to break free.
I accepted a prestigious surgical fellowship in Germany and served her divorce papers.
She signed them on the spot, without a second glance, mistaking them for adoption forms-a brutal testament to how little I meant to her.
But escaping Izzy' s orbit proved impossible.
Her manipulative ex, Marcus Vance, resurfaced, systematically sabotaging my reputation and career.
He staged a fake "assault" at the hospital that got me suspended, and Izzy, completely blind in her work-obsessed world, effortlessly believed his lies, her family joining the cruel chorus, painting me as a jealous villain.
Just as my visa was finally approved, offering me a clear path to reclaim my life, I found her waiting at the airport.
Tears of frustration blurred my vision as she snatched my passport.
"Going somewhere, Ethan Cole?" she smirked, then, with chilling nonchalance, she ripped it in half.
"Oops. Clumsy me." She still believed we were married, choosing to live in that delusion even as her own company began to tank due to Marcus' s cunning schemes.
"You are my husband," she declared, grabbing my arm, dragging me back into her chaotic, high-stakes world.
She forced me to play the role of the devoted spouse, a public facade to salvage her company' s image.
Trapped, bewildered, and furious, I knew this wasn't just a crisis for her, but a crucible for me.
Can I survive this charade? And what will it take to truly escape? From Background Character to Leading Lady
Romance My life as Marcus Thorne's personal assistant was a tightrope walk, fueled by debt and a desperate need for invisibility.
He was Hollywood's most feared mogul, and I was just the anonymous competence making his world run.
Then Tiffany arrived, a caricature of a woman whose perfume assaulted the senses, declaring herself Marcus's "leading lady" and dismissing me as mere "help."
Her delusion quickly escalated from annoying pronouncements to outright malice.
She openly resented a simple silver pendant Marcus had given me, dismissing it as "charity."
She deliberately sabotaged my work, sweeping crucial files across the floor.
Once, she even sloshed scalding coffee onto my hand and keyboard, her smirk dripping with false sympathy.
Her threats grew bolder, hinting she knew a dangerous secret about Marcus's most guarded Blackwood deal.
I tried to endure, focusing on my duties, but her fervent belief in her own rom-com script, coupled with her growing aggression, was deeply unsettling.
How could she be so dangerously unaware of reality, or worse, so brazenly malicious?
The breaking point arrived when she, in an overly dramatic gesture, spilled steaming coffee directly onto Marcus Thorne's immaculate suit.
The room fell silent.
But Marcus didn't look at her; his icy gaze found me.
"Sarah," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Handle this."
It was the first time he truly saw me, not just as background noise. The Party Barn Massacre
Billionaires It was Leo and Lily' s fifth birthday, a bright morning, and my husband Ethan, the real estate mogul, was showering our twins with laughter and kisses.
He promised to see me at my parents' that night, his hand tenderly resting on my pregnant belly, blissfully unaware of the horror about to unfold.
Hours later, the world shattered.
My car was ambushed, my children and I dragged to a remote barn, and then I saw them: Tiffany Monroe, a socialite I vaguely recognized, and... my husband, Ethan, by her side.
They stood watching impassively as men brutally beat my twins, Leo and Lily, to death.
My twins screamed, fought, and then fell limp, moments before Tiff, with Ethan's cold encouragement, burned me with a cigarillo.
Even when I screamed his name, when they ripped my custom locket off, he dismissed me as "trash," declaring his wife "safe" because she had her locket-the very one they'd stolen from me.
The final blow came when he ordered a C-section in front of me, taking my unborn child as a "souvenir" for Tiff.
How could he not know me?
How could the man who promised me forever, the father of my children, casually order my baby carved from me, all because a locket wasn't on my neck?
The pain of his betrayal, his utter blindness, was colder than death itself.
Yet, as one loyal employee saved me from oblivion, I watched Ethan's horror when he finally saw the truth, confirming he was a monster, not an unwitting participant.
It sparked a new life within me, not one of grief, but of ice-cold, calculated revenge.
He took everything.
Now, I will take his empire, his freedom, and his sanity, piece by agonizing piece. A Mother's Deadly Confession
Modern Ava Rodriguez's brilliant brother, Leo, won the acclaimed American Justice Fellowship.
His future was supposed to shine, a beacon of hope for their family.
Then, he died.
They called it suicide, but Leo's last scrawled words to her were: "Don't accept the fellowship."
Ava knew they were lying.
He was murdered, just like every other fellow who threatened the powerful.
For three years, she buried herself in law, watching, waiting, preparing to expose the truth.
Now, she's won the fellowship herself, her proposal a direct challenge to the corrupt system.
But as she publicly declares her brother was murdered and vows to expose the truth, the trap springs shut around her.
Suddenly, she's not the grieving sister seeking justice, but the prime suspect in a series of horrific murders.
Evidence - her brother's unique custom pen, her IP address near other "suicide" scenes - mysteriously emerges, painting her as a cold-blooded serial killer.
Even her own mother, distraught and masked, appears, "confessing" to the crimes to protect Ava, unknowingly deepening the meticulously planned frame-up.
The world spins into a nightmare of accusations and twisted truths.
She' s being set up not to shine, but to be destroyed, with her "suicide" in federal custody as the perfect final act.
How could they twist everything so perfectly? Why her mother' s desperate, bizarre act?
The narrative has been set: Ava Rodriguez, brilliant law graduate, or monstrous serial killer?
Refusing to be another silenced victim, Ava stages a high-stakes escape from federal custody.
She races to the darkest secret her family holds, the one place she believes the real truth lies-her father's grave.
Under the harsh glare of news cameras and the FBI, a shovel in hand, she prepares to dig.
What she unearths will either expose a shocking family secret and a vast conspiracy, or bury her forever. The Runaway Wife's Resolve
Billionaires My life with Ethan was a dream.
High school sweethearts, married five years, he was a charismatic tech mogul, and I loved him deeply.
Then, I got pregnant, and he seemed absolutely over the moon, especially when we learned it was twins.
That dream shattered when I overheard a hushed conversation between Ethan and our fancy OB-GYN.
He was demanding an early C-section for me-not for my health, but to align with his mistress Chloe's due date.
The "twins" he cried tears of joy over? One was hers, a sickening ploy to pass off her baby as ours for a crucial inheritance.
My world tilted on its axis as I discovered I was only carrying one healthy baby.
His tearful joy, his endless doting-every cherished moment was a well-rehearsed performance.
When I fled, he staged a massive "missing person" search, dragging me back to his hospital while still talking about our "high-risk twins" to control me.
Then, on our wedding anniversary, I found him with Chloe, kissing her passionately, planning their wedding right there in the hospital wing he always steered me away from.
How could the man I'd loved for a decade be such a monstrous deceiver, using my body, my pregnancy, and my life as pawns in his twisted game?
The hypocrisy burned, the casual cruelty a punch to the gut.
Everyone around him, even our doctor, was complicit in this horrifying web of lies.
But as I watched his humiliating, live-streamed "wedding" to his mistress from my hospital bed, my heartbreak hardened into icy resolve.
I finally understood the extent of his betrayal, and that very realization ignited a fierce determination within me.
I signed the divorce papers, ready to escape this gilded cage and fight for my freedom and my child's future, no matter the cost. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother
Nero Daniels My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms
Temple Madison For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.* The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." 
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