Beatrice Wells
15 Published Stories
Beatrice Wells's Books and Stories
Bleeding For A Lie: His Cruel Betrayal
Mafia For two years, I worked double shifts at a dingy laundromat, scrubbing blood out of suits until my hands were permanently raw. I starved myself to pay off a massive mafia debt my boyfriend, Dante, supposedly owed.
But one day, the city's untouchable Mafia Princess walked in and revealed the cruel truth. Dante was the billionaire Don himself, and my suffering was just a sick undercover game he played to test my loyalty.
Instead of ending the charade, Dante looked at me like I was invisible trash. He allowed his fiancée to frame me for theft, fired me, and forced me to kneel on the freezing concrete outside his headquarters.
When his fiancée stole my severance and sent rogue soldiers to destroy me, I frantically called him for help while coughing up blood.
"You are a degenerate gambler. Do not ever contact me again."
He hung up the phone, leaving me to be brutally assaulted by the monsters until my bones snapped.
Lying on my ruined floor, I couldn't understand how the man who used to whisper my name in the dark could be so merciless. I had bled my soul dry for him, only to be discarded like a liability.
With my spirit entirely shattered, I typed out one final message.
"If I die, will you regret it?"
I stepped out of the eighteenth-floor window and let the wind swallow me whole. I never expected that days later, the untouchable Don would find my hidden love letters, go completely mad with grief, and step off that exact same ledge. Too Late For Regret: His Ultimate Downfall
Modern I spent hours preparing a perfect anniversary dinner for my billionaire husband, Damien Sterling.
Instead of coming home, he appeared on a live broadcast, dropping $10 million on a diamond necklace for his first love, Isabel.
Before I could process the public humiliation, the hospital called to tell me my grandmother, my only family, had died of a massive hemorrhage.
The trigger was a visit from Isabel, who maliciously taunted her about our sham marriage and revealed Damien's company had wiped out her life savings.
When I confronted them with a voice recording of Isabel's cruelty, Damien violently snatched the device and wiped the evidence to protect her.
He even forced me to apologize when Isabel deliberately injured herself to frame me. I stared at him, completely disillusioned that he was blindly protecting a murderer who was actively selling his corporate secrets to his rivals.
The last shred of my affection for him shattered into dust.
Walking out of his manor, I calmly got into the sports car of his most ruthless enemy and made a deal.
"I want to see Isabel Goodwin in a prison cell, and I want his empire to burn." The Jilted Heiress Reclaims Her Throne
Romance Eleonora woke up in the hospital, still feeling the terrifying weightlessness of her own suicide.
She realized her chilling nightmare was actually a prophecy: she was destined to be the tragic, disposable villain, while her adopted sister Addisyn was the beloved protagonist.
On the day of her discharge, her father abandoned her to celebrate Addisyn's eighteenth birthday.
When Eleonora dragged her recovering body back to her family estate, she found her biometric access wiped and her home turned into a chaotic nightclub.
Addisyn had taken over the master bedroom and was wearing Eleonora's late mother's priceless sapphire necklace.
When Eleonora coldly demanded her property back, Addisyn squeezed out fake tears and played the pitiful victim.
Instantly, Eleonora's childhood fiancé and lifelong friends stepped up to shield Addisyn.
They scolded Eleonora for being cruel and classless, demanding she sleep in the guest room so she wouldn't ruin the party.
Downstairs, the elite guests mocked her as a crazy, jealous freak who was bullying her sweet sister.
In her nightmare, their blind devotion to this manipulative parasite had driven Eleonora to jump off a skyscraper.
She was the sole legal heir to the Carlisle estate, yet they expected her to quietly hand over her home, her mother's legacy, and her life to a thief.
But Eleonora was no longer a victim.
She pulled out the irrevocable trust documents, proving her absolute ownership, and looked at her loyal butler.
"Cut the power," she ordered coldly. "Throw every single trespasser out the gates." Forgotten Love, Unleashed Cold Revenge
Modern Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for.
Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive.
Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself.
But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate.
With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear." Defying The Ruthless Billionaire Heir
Billionaires Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal." The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge
Modern My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator. Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge
Modern Ten minutes. That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to a three-hundred-million-dollar empire built on my code.
But when I walked into the office, his mistress was sitting in my chair, spinning the pen I bought him for our anniversary.
Caleb didn't even look up. He told me the investors wanted stability, not a pregnant woman. He called our unborn child a "liability" and ordered security to escort me out of the building I paid for.
I went home to pack, only to find a burner phone hidden in the closet. The texts were brutal. He called me an "incubator." He said once the deal was signed, he’d take the baby and dump the "nerd."
When he caught me with the phone, he didn't apologize. He dragged me by my hair and threw me into the soundproof panic room to keep me quiet until the deal closed.
"Caleb, please! I'm bleeding!"
I pounded on the steel door until my hands were raw. But he just locked it and went to eat pizza with his mistress.
Alone in the dark, on the freezing concrete, I felt the life inside me slip away. He hadn't just stolen my company; he had killed my child.
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just "the help." But he forgot one thing: I built the security system he was trying to sell.
Three days later, I rolled my wheelchair into his victory press conference, flanked by his biggest rival.
"Do you trust your new code, Caleb?"
"Because I wrote the backdoor. And I just opened it." Our Marriage: A Twisted Revenge
Modern My husband, Aiden, brought his mistress to a gala. She was carrying my clutch bag, a gift from him. He was laughing, daring me to make a scene.
But the ultimate cruelty wasn't the affair. It was when he brought up my kidnapping from ten years ago, using my deepest trauma as a weapon to publicly shame me.
His mistress, Ember, piled on, her voice dripping with false pity.
"Oh, Julia, I just can't imagine what you went through. Aiden told me everything. How you were… so damaged."
I suddenly realized who she was: the daughter of the man who had orchestrated my kidnapping. This wasn't just an affair; it was a long-con revenge plot to destroy the company I had sacrificed everything to save.
Aiden, the man who once swore to protect me, was her willing pawn. His cruelty had already cost me our unborn child years ago.
In that moment, the last bit of love I had for him turned to ice. He thought he was breaking me.
He had no idea he was just handing me the keys to his destruction. Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns
Romance To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat.
While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa.
He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture.
The breaking point came the night I went into labor.
Dante didn't hold my hand.
He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room.
So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost.
I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie.
When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name.
He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone.
He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife—I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe.
It took him three years to find me again.
He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son.
"I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything."
I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army.
"You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly.
"If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war." His Daughter, His Mistake
Modern My husband, Austin Rogers, had been missing for five years, only to return with a royal illegitimate child.
The first thing he did was burst into my daughter Joanna's room, wrap her in a blanket, and throw her into the sauna.
His sister, Rosita, sneered as she poured a whole box of leeches inside and locked the door.
I rushed over, begging them to let my daughter out.
They glared at me with malice.
"How dare you plead? The little princess bruised her leg yesterday. If her mother finds out, we'll all be in deep trouble. You're just envious! You want us to stay trapped in this miserable place with you forever."
At that moment, I finally understood that they intended to use my daughter's life to appease that Slaka Queen.
But their plan was doomed to fail.
The person being bitten by leeches inside wasn't my daughter.
They were about to face the consequences of their actions. When Good Wives Go Bad: A Revenge Story
Modern "Just turn here, Jennifer. It' s a shortcut." My mother-in-law, Debra, constantly dissected my driving, my life, everything.
My husband, Matthew, and his father, Anthony, always made me endure her. I was used to it, but her relentless criticism and reckless interference-like grabbing the steering wheel in heavy traffic-escalated our arguments.
Then, everything changed. One moment, her hand was on the wheel, the next, a screech of tires and the deafening roar of a semi-truck. The impact was a brutal explosion of metal and glass. My world shattered into searing pain and darkness.
Through the haze, I heard their voices.
Debra sobbing, "She tried to kill me." Anthony spitting, "That little bitch." Matthew, panicking, but asking, "Mom, are you okay?" Not me. And then, Anthony' s chilling whisper: "Let' s just… wait a minute. Make sure our story is straight."
They were letting me die, watching me bleed out, discussing their alibi.
The coldness of their betrayal was more agonizing than the crash itself. My life faded away to the sound of their lies.
Then, a gasp. My eyes flew open. My hands clenched the steering wheel. "Debra, please, just let me drive…" The words tasted like ash. It was the day before the crash. I was back.
I was whole. They took my life without a second thought. Now, I had a second chance. This time, I would be the one in control. And I was going to make them pay for what they did. From Ashes, A New Empire
Romance The cool, conditioned air of the St. Regis suite was the first thing I noticed when I gasped awake, my head throbbing from that familiar chemical fog – the drug my brother, Mark, used to set me up with Chloe, the woman I once foolishly loved.
Then, the memories slammed into me like a physical blow: the terrifying fire, Lily' s desperate screams, the sickening smell of gasoline, and the crushing heat – this wasn't a nightmare, it was real, a past I had just escaped, and across the king-sized bed sat Chloe, my murderer, my executioner.
My throat clenched, a raw, primal scream trapped within as my heart hammered against my ribs, recognizing this as the night, the precise moment everything twisted into a lifetime of agonizing obsession, cruel betrayal, and the inferno that ultimately consumed my first life and my precious daughter.
How could I have been so utterly blind, so completely duped, so willingly walked into a meticulously set trap that not only cost me everything, but also my child, leaving only a cold, sharp rage simmering within, refusing to be a helpless victim again?
I had a choice now, a real chance to rewrite my fate, and with shaking hands that barely obeyed, I found my phone, scrolled straight to Ryan' s number in Chloe' s contacts, hit dial, and rasped into the receiver, "Come get your girlfriend, St. Regis, Suite 1412; she' s waiting for you," knowing that this time, I would burn her world down first. The Ultimatum at Thanksgiving
Romance My wife, Sarah, and I built Innovatech Solutions from scratch, fueled by late-night pizza and big dreams.
She was the charismatic CEO, I was the nuts-and-bolts guy as Head of Sales and Product Development.
We were partners, co-founders, and deeply in love-or so I thought.
Then she hired Kevin Young, a young, eager intern who seemed to know how to play the game.
Suddenly, Sarah's focus shifted entirely to him, showering him with undeserved praise and opportunities, completely ignoring company values and our shared principles.
Kevin got a company Tesla, a corner executive office usually reserved for VPs, and even a speaking slot at a prestigious tech conference I deserved.
Sarah put him in charge of our most critical project, the Phoenix initiative, undermining my entire experienced team.
The final straw came when she took him on a "strategy retreat" to Napa and posted a selfie showing off my engagement ring on her hand with him in the background for the whole company to see.
The office was rife with whispers, speculation that I was being replaced, that they were together.
My anger slowly froze into a cold, profound disappointment.
How could the woman I' d built everything with betray me so completely, publicly choosing this manipulative intern over our company, our marriage, and me?
Her blindness was staggering, her choices inexplicable, yet devastating.
That night, I knew I had to plan my exit, not just from Innovatech, but from her.
I quietly activated my secret weapon, my Uncle Mike, and began a meticulously calculated operation to take back everything she had carelessly thrown away.
What she didn' t know was that while she was busy playing favorites, I was building a new empire, ready to reveal itself at the perfect, most humiliating moment. The Day I Vanished
Romance The doctor's words sealed Amelia Hayes's fate: aggressive, stage four ovarian cancer.
Consumed by overwhelming guilt for her best friend Liv's tragic death years ago, Amy numbly embraced the diagnosis as a deserved end, refusing treatment and signing away her organs.
Her penance wasn't over; Liv's grief-stricken brother, Ethan Carter, who viciously blamed Amy for his sister's demise, still dictated her every move.
He meticulously orchestrated her public humiliation, forcing her into back-breaking tasks and enduring his cruel fiancée's sadistic games, watching Amy weaken, every ounce of suffering a grim reminder of Liv's absence.
Amy accepted every degrading act, every physical pain, enduring it all as a desperate attempt to atone for her relentless survivor's guilt.
Yet, even as her body failed, the gnawing question lingered: was her self-destruction truly a sacrifice for Liv, or simply a prolonged, theatrical torment orchestrated by Ethan for his own twisted closure?
Finally, broken and desperate, Amy sought ultimate release, calling 911 from atop the George Washington Bridge, her final wish to donate her organs to give life even as hers ended.
But a secret ally pulled her back from the brink, allowing her to fake her own death and forge a new identity, unaware that her "demise" would drive Ethan, consumed by his own guilt and pain, to the verge of madness, setting the stage for an explosive, unforeseen reunion years later that would challenge everything they believed about love, hate, and forgiveness. The Day He Asked for My Kidney
Romance My family owed the Vances, a debt etched invisibly deep into our lives. Years ago, I’d even donated bone marrow to Julian, Richard Vance’s son, the boy I once hero-worshipped. It felt like a small repayment, tying me deeper into their world.
Then Julian came to me, his handsome face etched with worry. “Mia,” he urgent, “It’s Cassandra. Her kidneys are failing. You’re a perfect match.” He was asking for another piece of me.
In that suffocating moment, a brutal vision slammed into me: Cassandra dying, Julian’s monstrous rage, my life systematically destroyed, culminating in my suspicious death from his calculated revenge. The horror of this terrifying premonition stripped away every shred of naivety.
How could the man whose life I’d saved, whose family saved mine, be capable of such monstrous malice?
Survival became my only thought. I looked at him, not a hero, but a potential destroyer. “Alright, Julian,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll do it. But I have conditions. This will be the final repayment. A legally binding contract for complete severance of all ties, and a substantial sum for my complete disappearance. My ticket to freedom.” You might like
The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. 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. The Don's Wife Is His Executioner
Deeply Engaged My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen.
But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman.
"Our little secret is growing."
The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar.
"The only exit from this Family is death," he warned.
The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate.
I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves.
He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy.
He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire.
I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative.
"Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first." Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Comeback
Baxy Koseluk I was the dutiful wife of Julian, a ruthless Capo in the Chicago Syndicate.
Six months ago, my convoy was ambushed by a rival cartel.
While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor of the car, my husband was on the phone with his mistress, Mia.
"Lock your doors, stay inside," he told her, never once asking if I was alive.
I survived, only to watch him flaunt his betrayal.
He brought his mistress into our home, booked her luxury suites in Tokyo, and bought her massive diamonds with Syndicate funds.
When I refused to play the part of his obedient, blind wife, he publicly humiliated me and orchestrated rumors to isolate me.
He thought I was just collateral, a powerless figurehead he could control and eventually discard to settle his debts.
I had endured this loveless marriage to survive in the family, yet he treated me worse than dirt while elevating a mistress who knew nothing of our world.
I was suffocating in a cage of neglect, enraged by the audacity of a coward who broke every sacred vow.
So, I took off my vulgar wedding ring and left it on his bathroom sink.
I picked up my phone and sent a message to Dante Falcone, the exiled heir who had stitched my flesh back together in secret.
This time, I chose to burn my husband's empire to the ground. 
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