Bu Chuang
15 Published Stories
Bu Chuang's Books and Stories
Locked in the Glass Sunroom
Mafia At eight months pregnant, I was locked inside the sweltering glass sunroom of my own estate.
My husband's "sweet" adopted sister, Sophie, stood in the cool air on the other side, sipping ice water as she watched the midday sun bake me alive.
When I shattered the glass to escape, my husband—a ruthless syndicate boss—finally returned.
Sophie immediately dropped to the floor, faking tears and claiming I had gone mad and attacked her.
Without a word of concern for my bleeding feet or my frantic pleas for a doctor, Dominic dragged me down to a windowless basement cell.
"She needs to sweat this fever out of her."
He turned the heat up to a scorching roar and locked the heavy iron door.
In that dark, roasting oven, I cramped and bled out on the concrete floor. I lost my baby, and my body was so traumatized I could never carry a child again.
Lying in a pool of my own blood, the truth finally pierced through my blind gratitude.
Dominic had staged the accident that brought us together just to infiltrate my family. He never loved me; he only wanted to steal my empire and replace me with his mistress once he thought my protective older brother was dead.
With the last of my strength, I dipped my fingers into my blood and wrote "Vengeance" on the steel wall.
Just then, an explosion shook the foundation, and the door was blown off its hinges. My brother, very much alive, stepped through the smoke. Left To Drown: The Alpha's Secret Healer Mate
Werewolf I spent three years secretly healing my paralyzed Alpha husband, finally helping him walk again.
But when a bridge snapped and plunged me and my fake sister into a toxic, silver-laced lake, he swam right past me.
He pulled her to safety and left me sinking in the burning water.
When the patrol finally dragged my half-dead body to the shore, he didn't even ask about my severe burns.
Instead, he looked at me with cool irritation and called me a petulant child.
"Selena is a weak Beta. She cannot handle the silver water. You are my mate, you should be stronger."
He even used his power to steal my career endorsements and gave them to her as compensation.
I looked at the man whose crippled legs I had massaged every night with my hidden power.
He didn't know I was the one who saved his life, and he clearly didn't care if I lost mine.
My three years of quiet devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to him.
With a dead heart, I walked into his office and threw the official rejection scroll onto his desk.
"I, Serena, reject you, Hunter, as my mate."
Ignoring his sudden, agonizing panic as our bond shattered, I booked a one-way ticket to Europe.
This time, I was going to live for myself. Too Late For Regret, Mr. Morgan
Billionaires He married her as a contract, a duty, a cold transaction that lasted three years. She loved him so much that she sold herself to him—just to save her mother's life. He called her a “commodity,” said she was “tainted,” pinned her down in the back of his car while whispering another woman's name—Britt.
Then she finally gave up. She placed the divorce papers in front of him and said quietly, “Francisco, let's end this.”
For the first time, he panicked.
The man who never really looked at her began spending entire nights outside her hospital room, his hands trembling as he reached for her—then pulled back. He searched for her like a madman, begging with bloodshot eyes: “Evelyn… just give me one more chance…”
But she gently removed his hand, her voice softer than the wind: “Francisco, you lost my heart a long time ago.” Rescued And Claimed By The Underworld Boss
Mafia For six years, I guarded my fiancé's empty grave through blizzards and thunderstorms, surviving multiple suicide attempts because the guilt of his fatal car crash was eating me alive.
Until an anonymous message led me to a luxury penthouse, where I found him perfectly healthy, his arms wrapped around his former secretary's pregnant belly.
He had faked his own death to escape his mafia blood oath, keep the dirty money, and dump me.
When I confronted him, he violently shoved me into a stone fireplace, leaving me bleeding out on the marble floor.
"If anything happens to my new family, I will enact a Vendetta on you that will make the last six years look like a joke."
To protect his pristine facade, he threatened to cancel my dying adoptive mother's heart transplant unless I publicly confessed to being a delusional stalker.
I complied, but his mistress still snuck into the ICU, verbally abused my mother, and bribed the organ broker to back out.
My mother flatlined right in front of me.
I didn't understand how the man I had mourned for over two thousand days could watch me freeze in the snow for a box of dirt, only to coldly orchestrate the murder of my only family.
Holding my mother's ashes, I scheduled a video exposing his dirty money, and jumped off the cross-river bridge.
But I didn't die.
When I opened my eyes, the city's most lethal Mafia Don was standing by my bed, offering me a gun and a throne built from their ashes. Tipping The Billionaire: His Runaway Lover
Modern Alida caught her boyfriend in bed with another woman, only to discover a frat house contract on his nightstand.
Her love and submission had been nothing but a fifty-thousand-dollar bet.
She extorted the check from him to pay for her dying father's surgery, then went to a club to drink away the brutal betrayal.
But her malicious stepsister secretly drugged her drink, planning to sell her to an underground thug to pay off a debt.
Burning from the chemical mix and running on pure terror, Alida escaped into a VIP hallway and crashed straight into a wall of solid muscle.
Desperate and out of her mind, she slapped the fifty-thousand-dollar check against the handsome stranger's chest.
"I'm buying you for the night."
She had no idea the man she just bought was Jax Vaughn, the ruthless, untouchable billionaire tyrant of Wall Street.
The next morning, Alida fled the penthouse, leaving behind a single crumpled hundred-dollar bill and a humiliating note.
"Service fee. Average skills. Like an uncivilized beast."
Seven years later, Alida returned to New York, holding the hand of her genius seven-year-old son who possessed the exact same pitch-black eyes as the billionaire.
She thought her past was buried forever, safely hidden away from the monster she had insulted.
But her father's mounting medical bills forced her to accept a high-paying executive interview at Vaughn Enterprises.
In the middle of the grand lobby, she stepped right into a familiar, terrifying chest.
Jax Vaughn's iron grip locked onto her wrist, recognizing her scent instantly, his eyes burning with seven years of obsessive, murderous rage.
"You." The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Revenge Comeback
Billionaires For three years, Alyson endured a suffocating marriage, while her biological family treated her like a stray dog compared to her sister, Chelsea.
She thought her husband Kenton would at least show her basic human decency.
But during a horrific car crash in a freezing storm, Kenton used his own body to shield Chelsea.
Meanwhile, a massive, out-of-control truck slammed into Alyson, throwing her broken body into a muddy ditch.
With shattered ribs and blood blurring her vision, she reached out a trembling hand to him for help.
Kenton just stared at her coldly through the rain.
"Stop faking it. It's just a scrape."
Without another glance, he wrapped his arm around the completely uninjured Chelsea and drove away, leaving Alyson to bleed out in the mud.
Hours later, after being saved from the brink of death by a mysterious stranger, her phone rang.
It was Kenton, furiously demanding she bring Chelsea's anxiety medication to the hospital.
He didn't even care to ask where she was, let alone realize she was severely injured.
Alyson couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so blindly cruel, or why her own parents constantly orchestrated her destruction.
The pathetic hope she had clung to for three years finally shattered into dust.
She dragged her battered body back to their penthouse, hiding a divorce settlement inside a stack of tedious charity documents.
When Kenton arrogantly signed his name without reading a single line, Alyson turned her back on the toxic family for good. Jilted Bride's Comeback: A Billionaire Queen
Modern My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom. His Unwanted Wife, The Nation's Hero
Modern On our wedding anniversary, I came home to find my husband, Jace, celebrating with another woman in our living room.
She was wearing my mother's necklace-the only thing recovered from the explosion that killed my parents. Jace laughed, calling it a "cheap piece of junk," and tried to write me a check to buy a new one.
His family called my parents' ashes "garbage" and "unsanitary." When I confronted them, Jace sided with his mother, ordering me out of the penthouse I secretly owned. He let his friends publicly humiliate me, calling me a gold-digging leech with no background.
But that wasn't the worst of it. When a gunman stormed the restaurant we were in, Jace shoved me directly into the line of fire to shield his mistress.
The shotgun blast tore through my arm. As I lay bleeding on the marble floor, I stared at the man who had just used me as a human shield, his face pale with terror as he protected her.
In that instant, every ounce of love I ever had for him died. The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the cold, hollow void that consumed my heart.
He thought he was sacrificing a quiet, useless wife to secure his future. He had no idea he had just declared war on Captain Cilla Henson, West Point valedictorian and the most lethal operator of the Eagle Task Force. The Fiancé Who Stole My Life
Modern My fiancé, Garrison, told me his family would love me. He said I was perfect. But at our engagement dinner, I overheard their real plan: to harvest my kidney for his sick sister, Corliss, and then discard me.
They framed me for pushing Corliss, causing her to have a "stress-induced episode." Garrison, believing their lies, had me thrown into a brutal "behavioral correction facility."
When he finally came for me, it wasn't to save me. It was to show off his new woman, my old rival, Katia. He humiliated me at a party, forcing me to wear the same dress as her, then accused me of sabotaging a chandelier that nearly killed them-a chandelier I had actually pushed him away from.
In the hospital, broken and bruised from a car crash Katia orchestrated, Garrison showed me faked evidence of my "crimes." He called me an empty void, a monster, and told me he was done with me.
He believed I was a jealous viper trying to destroy his family. He never saw that they were the ones who had systematically destroyed me.
Lying in that hospital bed, alone and in agony, I finally understood. The man I loved was a stranger, and his family were my tormentors.
As he walked out of my life for good, a cold peace settled over me. I was finally free. And I would never look back. His Unwanted Presence
Modern The smell of grilled meat and Olivia' s expensive perfume filled the backyard. We were hosting a perfect summer barbecue, or so it seemed.
I was the guy flipping burgers, the stay-at-home dad, while my wife, Olivia, laughed a bright, theatrical laugh, her hand resting on my cousin Liam' s arm-the one who got away in college.
My twins, Max and Chloe, looked up at Liam with wide, adoring eyes, asking him to do magic tricks and cut their food, preferring their "Uncle Liam" over me, their own father.
Olivia, too, openly favored Liam, remembering his steak preference while dismissing me with cold precision: "Ethan, the trash is overflowing. And did you forget to buy more ketchup?"
Each laugh, each dismissal, felt like a confirmation: I wasn' t their father or husband. I was just a convenience, my expiration date rapidly approaching.
A week later, while fixing the AC-because calling a professional was too expensive on my non-existent income-I fell off a ladder, breaking my arm.
Olivia' s first reaction? Not concern, but irritation. "Are you serious? Today? I' m about to close a seven-figure deal, Ethan. Is it really that bad?"
At the hospital, my kids barely noticed my bright white cast. Max' s only question was, "Is Uncle Liam coming over for dinner?"
That was it. The clarity cut through the pain. My wife, my children-they didn' t care. My pain was an annoyance; my presence, a service.
I looked at my angry wife, at the backs of my children' s heads. I was completely alone, a disposable tool.
That night, I looked at our wedding photo, two smiling strangers. I made a decision. Quiet, solid, absolute. I was done.
"I want a divorce," I told Olivia.
She closed her laptop, her face shifting from annoyance to clinical curiosity. "Don' t be ridiculous. We don' t have time for a divorce."
Then Max and Chloe walked in. "A divorce?" Max said, his eyes calculating. "Does that mean we can go live with Uncle Liam?"
Chloe brightened. "Yeah! Can Uncle Liam be our new dad? He' s more fun."
Their words, fueled by Olivia' s cultivation, hit harder than any fall. My children, my own flesh and blood, wanted my replacement.
Olivia, seeing my pain, delivered the final cut. "This is your own fault, Ethan. You let yourself go. The kids want a father they can look up to."
A cold rage burned through me. I pulled out the divorce papers, already signed, that I' d secretly prepared.
Olivia snatched and shredded them. "No one is divorcing me. You work for me, Ethan. You don' t get to quit."
The children watched, not scared, but as if it were a power play, knowing whose side they were on.
A chilling emptiness settled over me. I walked away, locked myself in the guest room, the click of the lock the first taste of freedom in a decade. Love After the Betrayal
Romance The scent of lilies and hairspray usually meant joy, but for me, Abigail Turner, on what was supposed to be my wedding day, it was a suffocating prelude to disaster.
I stood in my bridal gown, gazing into an ornate mirror, my heart a storm.
Then Brandon Hayes, my fiancé, walked in, his eyes cold and distant.
He took his mother' s diamond necklace, an heirloom he' d given me, straight from my neck.
"I need that back," he said, his voice flat.
Before I could process the shock, my cousin, Seraphina Vance, appeared, clutching an overnight bag, her eyes red-rimmed.
Without a word, Brandon fastened the necklace around her neck.
My future, my life, was now hers.
"I can' t marry you, Abby," Brandon declared, his voice devoid of emotion.
"The wedding is canceled."
Then, he looked at Seraphina, his voice softening. "I' m marrying Seraphina. Today."
Just like that, my own cousin, who should have been my bridesmaid, was taking my place.
"Why?" I managed to choke out.
Brandon sighed, as if burdened by immense self-pity. "It' s for the good of the family. There' s a curse, Abby. A psychic told Seraphina' s mother. If I don' t marry her, something terrible will happen."
Seraphina sniffled, burying her face in his chest. "I' m so sorry, Abby. I didn' t want this."
He held her tight, then looked back at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre pity. "It' s just for a few years, Abby. Once the danger from the curse has passed, I' ll divorce her. Just wait for me. You' ll always be the one I love."
The absurdity of his words was staggering. He wanted me to wait.
My family rushed in, drawn by the commotion. My mother' s face paled at the scene: me in my dress, Brandon holding Seraphina, the necklace on the wrong neck.
Everyone expected tears, screams, pleas.
But a strange calm washed over me.
The heartbreak was a cold, hard stone in my chest, but my mind was clear.
I looked at Brandon, the man I thought I would spend my life with, and saw a stranger-a weak, arrogant man easily manipulated by my jealous cousin.
I turned to my father, my voice steady and firm. "Dad, do you remember the arrangement with the Beaumont family in Europe?"
His eyes widened in shock. "Abby, you don' t mean…"
"I do," I said. "Call them. Tell them I accept."
Silence fell over the room.
My life as Abigail "Abby" Turner ended in that moment.
The next day, I was on a plane to Europe.
Five years later, the world knows me as Ava Beaumont.
I am a respected art curator, happily married, and six months pregnant.
I am back in the United States for the first time in five years, for my husband William' s grandfather' s ninetieth birthday.
And I am a completely different woman. Betrayal's Bitter Harvest
Modern The anesthesia was a thick fog, but the voices cut through it.
"Is she going to be okay?" That was Mark, my boyfriend, a rising musician.
"She' ll be fine. She gave you a kidney, Mark, she can handle a little post-op pain." That was Jessica, his new manager.
My blood ran cold. A kidney. I' d donated a kidney to save his life, worked three jobs, sold my art, used family connections, all for his dream.
Then the words that shattered my world.
"She was a good stepping stone, Mark. She got you where you needed to be. But you can' t have a sick, tired artist clinging to you when you' re about to become a star. You need… Jessica' s Lullaby."
Jessica's Lullaby. Our lullaby, a deeply personal melody from my childhood that I rewrote just for him. He had given her our song.
He didn't just take my kidney, he stole my art, my trust, everything. Even when he came back to the hospital, publicly proposing with cheap roses and a camera crew, it was a sham. Jessica staged an illness, and he abandoned me, rushed to her side, his devotion clear for all to see.
The man I loved had betrayed me, not just by stealing my art, but by commodifying my sacrifice, casting me aside as a mere stepping stone.
My heart was a hollowed-out cavity. But in that emptiness, a cold, hard rage began to burn.
He thought I was just a stepping stone. He was about to find out how wrong he was. I reached for my phone, scrolling for David, the head of a rival record label.
"David," I said, my voice raspy but firm. "It' s Sarah. I have a proposition for you." The Ex-Wife's Hollywood Comeback
Romance Five years.
That' s how long Sarah Miller believed she' d built a real family and found true love with billionaire Ethan Vanderbilt, the man she married through a mysterious deal that saved her life.
Their son, Noah, was turning five.
At his birthday party, Noah, coached by Ethan, blew out his candles and wished: "I want Daddy and Mommy to divorce so Aunt Olivia can be my new mom!" Ethan' s cold, approving smile was a dagger, shattering my heart.
He served divorce papers, calling me a mere "placeholder" for his recovery.
Publicly shamed, disowned by my parents, and rejected by my son for his new "Auntie Olivia," every sacrifice was dismissed.
My rare Larsen' s Syndrome, previously suppressed, ravaged my body, mirroring my shattered life.
Was every tender moment a calculated performance?
The man I nursed back to health, my child's father, utterly discarded me.
Abandoned and utterly broken, I wrestled with this profound betrayal.
With nothing left, I activated The Guide' s "exit clause," staging my dramatic public demise.
I plunged into a new reality as Ava Monroe, a famous Hollywood actress, determined to finally find genuine love.
But a ghost from my past, Ethan, followed, poised to conquer me again, threatening my new beginning. Trampled Legacy: The Hero's Daughter
Modern My daughter Emily, just seventeen, had a heart of gold.
She wanted to change the world, much like her father, James, a Medal of Honor recipient who died serving his country.
Emily was kind and brave, even standing up to Kevin Jennings, the mayor’s son, when he bullied a disabled classmate online.
Then, one cold night, Emily was gone.
The doctor’s words were flat: "Severe internal injuries. Hypothermia."
The police officer’s words were a punch: Kevin Jennings claimed Emily attacked him, and he’d acted in self-defense.
They found my sweet girl beaten and left in the freezing rain.
The powerful Jennings family immediately offered hush money, threatening to smear Emily’s name if I didn't comply.
The media, in their pocket, painted Emily as "aggressive," while online, I became a "gold digger" facing vicious attacks.
When I tried to protest, Kevin Jennings himself publicly *stepped* on James’s Medal of Honor, disgracing everything sacred to me.
The system closed ranks, branding Emily’s death "mutual combat."
But I knew the truth.
Emily’s journal revealed she was trying to reason with a monster.
This wasn't self-defense; it was murder, a brutal cover-up by the powerful.
How could they erase my daughter’s memory, twisting her kindness and trampling on her hero father’s legacy?
Broken and alone, I remembered a sacred promise James’s commander, Colonel McGregor, had made: "His family is our family."
Hundreds of miles away, he was my last, desperate hope.
I packed my bags, clutched James’s Medal, and drove out of that corrupt city.
The Jennings family *would* pay.
This fight wasn't over. It had only just begun. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Reborn, I Wed the Untamed Playboy
Bone Possolo On my wedding day to Julian Moretti, the future Mafia Don, I was deliberately sent to the wrong penthouse.
My half-sister Sofia had crawled into my fiancé's bed, leaving me to be discovered by the family's exiled, alcoholic cousin.
In my past life, I was shattered by this orchestrated betrayal. I cried and begged when Julian publicly humiliated me, choosing his illegitimate mistress over his rightful bride.
I played the perfect, dignified Mafia wife for years. I swallowed his insults, ignored his infidelities, and accepted my ruined reputation to keep the peace.
But my blind obedience only paved the way for my murder. Julian discarded me, and I was poisoned to death so Sofia could steal my crown as the Mafia Queen.
Until my agonizing last breath, I didn't understand. I had honored our families' blood alliance flawlessly.
Why was I the sacrificial lamb while they were rewarded for their treason?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the dark leather sofa, suffocating in my heavy silk wedding dress.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener, marched straight into the Don's main study, and slapped the Underboss across the face in front of the entire family.
"A Valdez woman does not share her husband," I declared coldly. "To honor the alliance, I will marry Dante."
If they wanted to make my humiliation a fact, I was going to make it a funeral. 99 Roses for the Underboss's Wife
Natala O'neal I was the brilliant money launderer for the most feared syndicate on the East Coast, and the fiercely loyal wife of its Underboss, Dante.
While I worked sleepless nights to build his underworld dominion, he secretly diverted my operations to fund a luxury club for his naive barista mistress.
When I confronted them and publicly exposed her, Dante didn't show a shred of guilt.
Instead, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire syndicate.
He draped his tailored jacket over his crying mistress to shield her, then turned his cold eyes on me.
"Apologize to her right now, or I will send every single soldier in your crew to the slaughterhouse."
He then weaponized the mafia's whisper network to destroy my reputation, painting me as a hysterical, paranoid woman just to legitimize his affair.
For years, I had blindly endured his psychological torture, believing my devotion would eventually earn his respect.
But looking at the brutal purple handprint on my cheek, and the ninety-nine dried bouquets of white roses he kept in the attic to carelessly patch over his toxic abuse, my heart finally turned to ice.
I didn't throw a tantrum, nor did I beg for his love anymore.
I left his apology blood diamonds on the table, drafted my mafia severance papers, and walked out of his territory for good.
This time, I would build my own empire, and let him drown in the ruins of his. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don
Hei Baidong I was dragged back from the countryside by my father for one purpose: to be a sacrificial lamb.
He ordered me to marry the mafia Don Damien Valachi in place of my sister. Everyone in the underworld knew that this Don's brides never saw the light of the next day. My stepmother put on a fake smile and took my hand, calling it an "honor"; my sister hid behind her, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
I smiled coldly and held up two fingers: "Twenty million dollars. Now."
My father tried to play tricks, planning to take back the money from my trust fund after I died, but I had someone transfer every cent out before the wedding, leaving him a zero balance.
The next day, the wedding car pulled up to the Valachi estate. The butler ordered the driver to use the service entrance-it seemed my groom didn't think I was worthy of the front gate.
I got out and switched to an armored vehicle. I floored the accelerator, crashing straight through the estate gates. The gates shattered, and I didn't stop until I reached the main steps. I jumped out, the heel of my shoe crushing a broken iron railing, and shouted:
"The bride is here."
I looked up, scanning every window until my gaze stopped on one dark pane. I knew Damien was watching.
I brushed the dust off my skirt, raised my voice a notch, and smiled: "What, the Don of the Valachi family doesn't dare come out to meet his new wife?" Reborn To Ruin The Capo's Wedding
Felix Turner My mother is marrying a monster tomorrow.
I'm the only one who remembers.
My widowed mother was arranged to marry Lorenzo, a powerful Mafia Capo. I thought his status would finally bring us protection.
But on the third day of their marriage, Lorenzo moved his pregnant mistress, Camilla, into the estate's master suite.
She loudly claimed the child in her womb was the orphaned blood of a fallen soldier.
"A Capo of Lorenzo's stature is doing your mother a service," the Syndicate wives mocked me, demanding we accept our place.
Camilla systematically seized my mother's territory cuts and subjected her to endless psychological torture, while Lorenzo simply turned a blind eye.
When the baby was born, it bore the exact same distinct birthmark on its neck as Lorenzo.
Only then did we realize Lorenzo had used my mother as a convenient shield for his illicit affair, stealing my dead father's legacy and slowly draining our lives away.
I didn't understand why the Family's brutal justice allowed a thief to siphon funds under the guise of caring for a martyr's widow, leaving us to die in absolute disgrace.
Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day before the mob wedding.
Looking at my six-year-old hands, I grabbed the torn marriage petition and stole the secret trust documents.
This time, I ran straight to the heavily guarded gates of Don Salvatore, the most ruthless executioner in the city. Too Late For Regret, Underboss
LARA MORRISON For two years, my world was circumscribed by the biometric lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband, Vincenzo, the most feared Underboss of the Cosa Nostra.
But when he finally returned from a brutal three-week smuggling route, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-lover Camilla flaunted the flawless pearl necklace he had just bought her.
He abandoned me with a bleeding hand to rush to her side, ignored my severe medical emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at a Syndicate banquet by seating her in my rightful place at the head of the table.
Camilla cornered me in the powder room, her fragile victim facade dropping instantly as she smirked at my reflection.
"The thing a powerful man fears most isn't a wife who screams. It's a useless one who refuses to bow out gracefully."
I endured his blatant disrespect and broken Omertà, wondering why my unwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of a woman who was actively leaking his classified safehouse coordinates.
I didn't understand why he treated his sacred vows like garbage, eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong hero while leaving me to face cartel death threats entirely alone.
But I was done being the neglected mafia wife waiting in the shadows.
I calmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden inside my designer clutch.
It was time to present this irrefutable evidence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my husband of his title, and build my own empire. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" 
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