Hu Minxue
17 Published Stories
Hu Minxue's Books and Stories
Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse
Mafia For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York.
I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him.
But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash.
In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress.
He forced me to watch him court her.
At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her.
He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain.
He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life.
I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god.
I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole.
He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps.
So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother.
I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars.
I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia.
By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost. Traded To The Bratva: My Husband's Betrayal
Mafia Ninety-nine days. That was exactly how long it had been since my husband, Dante, traded my life to a Russian cartel just to save his mistress from a panic attack.
I walked onto the grounds of the Vitiello estate only to find him caressing her six-month-pregnant belly at my own funeral. He didn't look like a grieving widower; he looked like a man who had finally buried his mistake.
When I revealed I was alive, Dante didn't fall to his knees in relief. Instead, he protected Lucia. He believed her lies that I was insane, that I was a threat to his "heir."
To prove his loyalty to her, he stood by while my father whipped me in the family chapel until my back was in shreds. Then, he dragged me to the roof and threw me into a freezing pool, watching me drown simply because Lucia claimed I pushed her.
He didn't know Lucia was faking the pregnancy. He didn't know she was the one selling secrets to the Bratva. He broke his loyal wife to protect a traitor.
Now, six months later, he stands in the rain holding the Vitiello diamond necklace, begging me to come home. He thinks he can buy forgiveness.
But he doesn't see the man standing in the shadows behind me—the enforcer who took a bullet for me when Dante was busy breaking my bones.
I looked at the diamonds, then at my husband.
"I don't want a King," I whispered. "I chose the soldier." Discarded Girlfriend, Claimed By His Cousin
Modern For years, I was the perfect, understanding girlfriend. I watched my boyfriend, Brendan, and his "family friend," Kasey, flaunt their affair, but my career as an event planner was tied to his powerful family, so I endured the humiliation in silence.
That all changed on the way to a charity gala I had meticulously planned. I saw a fresh hickey on Kasey's neck, a silent, screaming testament to their latest betrayal, right in front of my face.
I finally broke up with him. The fallout was immediate and brutal. My own brothers hunted me down, calling me a "gold-digging whore" before dragging me back to our family. They threw a settlement agreement at me, demanding I apologize to Brendan for the "good of the family."
When I refused, they disowned me. My career was systematically destroyed, leaving me with nothing.
I was just a pawn they had used and discarded. The weight of it all became too much, and I collapsed, alone in my new, empty apartment.
As my vision faded, I heard a key turn in the lock. It was Brendan's cousin, Graham-the quiet, powerful lawyer I'd shared a secret, passionate kiss with in the car that very same day. Papa! That Bad Man Hit My Mom!
Modern After a seven-year relationship, my fiancé Bennett abandoned me on our marriage license day for a "marriage of convenience" with another woman. Heartbroken, I married the reclusive billionaire Damon Levy and disappeared.
Three years later, I returned, pregnant with our second child. The first person I saw was Bennett, now working as a driver, holding a sign for "Mrs. Levy."
He and his new wife didn't recognize me. They publicly humiliated me, mocking my simple dress and calling the priceless diamond bracelet from my husband a cheap fake.
At a gala, their cruelty escalated. They tripped me, stomped on my hand, and shattered my bracelet. Bennett slapped me across the face, hissing at me to stop lying.
Surrounded by their laughter, with my lip bleeding, I saw the man I once loved for the hollow, cruel person he truly was.
But then, the room went silent. My husband, Damon, walked in, holding our son. And my little boy pointed a finger straight at Bennett and shouted, "Papa! That bad man hit Mommy!" My Faked Death, His Endless Torment
Modern I was dying from a mysterious illness, but my family, including my fiancé King, dismissed me as a drama queen. At my adopted sister Isabel' s promotion party, my body finally gave out and I collapsed, coughing up blood.
Instead of helping, King accused me of ruining Isabel's big night. He tore up my terminal diagnosis report right in front of me, sneering that I'd do anything for attention.
Completely broken, I annulled our engagement and fled to a rundown motel to die alone. But Isabel found me. With a triumphant smile, she confessed everything-she had been slowly poisoning me for years, a plot to steal my health, my family's love, and King himself.
She had no idea her entire monstrous confession was being recorded by a device left in the room.
I sent that audio file to everyone and, with the help of a kind stranger, faked my own death. Years later, I had a new life, a new name, and a quiet peace I never thought possible. Then one day, a broken, haunted man walked into my seaside café, clutching a faded photo of me.
It was King. Till Death Do Us Part, Indeed
Modern My husband, Augustine, was a serial cheater, and I was a terminally ill artist.
His mistress didn't just steal my marriage; she publicly flaunted it, taunting me at every turn.
The final blow came when they desecrated the sculpture I made for my dead mother, laughing as they defiled my most sacred memory.
He used my childhood trauma to break me, freezing my assets, destroying my career, and trapping me in our home like a prisoner.
He had promised to be my safe harbor, but instead, he became the monster who weaponized my deepest pain.
But my cancer gave me a deadline and a dark purpose.
I lured him back, manipulating him into destroying his mistress and bankrupting himself for a forgiveness I would never grant.
As he knelt before me, a broken man offering his shattered empire, I gave him my final command.
"Now," I whispered, my voice cold as the grave, "it's time to pay with your life." Dying On My Own Terms
Romance I loved Dozier McCarthy with a madness that terrified him. So when his new girlfriend accused me of pushing her down the stairs, he didn't defend me.
Instead, he signed the papers to lock me away in Serenity Heights.
He called it "rehabilitation" for my obsession. I called it three years of hell.
While he lived his perfect life, I was strapped to a bed, force-fed heavy antipsychotics that they called "vitamins."
Those pills didn't just kill my love for him. They slowly destroyed my kidneys.
When he finally came to collect me, he smiled, thinking my silence meant I was "cured."
He didn't know he was looking at a walking corpse.
Now that the doctors have given me a terminal diagnosis, Dozier is on his knees, offering millions to fix what he broke.
"We'll find a donor," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "I'll save you."
I just pulled my hand away and adjusted my apron.
"It's too late, Dozier. I have a bagel cart to run."
He wanted to control my life. Now, he can only watch me die on my own terms. From Love to Hatred: His Downfall
Billionaires After five years of marriage and giving birth to his son, I was finally being welcomed into the powerful Downs family. The rule was simple: bear a son, and you're in the family trust. I had done my part.
But at the lawyer's office, I discovered my entire life was a lie. My husband, Hudson, already had a wife listed on the trust: Hailey Gomez, his high school sweetheart who supposedly died a decade ago.
I wasn't his wife. I was a substitute, a placeholder to produce an heir. Soon, the "dead" Hailey was living in my house, sleeping in my bed. When she deliberately shattered my grandmother's ashes, Hudson didn't blame her. He locked me in the basement to "teach me a lesson."
The ultimate betrayal came when he used our sick son, August, as a pawn. To force me to reveal Hailey's location after she staged her own kidnapping, he ripped the breathing tube from our son's nebulizer.
He left our child to die while he ran to her side.
After August died in my arms, the love I had for Hudson turned to pure, cold hatred. He beat me at our son's grave, thinking he could break me completely.
But he'd forgotten about the power of attorney I'd slipped into a stack of architectural deeds. He signed it without a second glance, dismissing my work as unimportant.
That arrogance would be his downfall. The Prank That Broke Her
Modern I was on my way to tell my boyfriend, Cooper, that I was pregnant. He was my savior, the man who rescued me after a brutal assault left me an orphan.
But when I arrived at his penthouse, I overheard him talking to his sister, Kenya. My entire life was a lie. The assault wasn't random; it was a "prank" they had orchestrated so he could play the hero.
It only got worse. Kenya tortured and killed my dog for "surgical practice," and Cooper defended her. They leaked a private video of me, destroying my reputation at school. When I tried to escape, Kenya sent thugs after me, and the attack caused me to miscarry our child.
As I lay bleeding in the hospital, Cooper blamed me for losing the baby. He then told me the miscarriage had left me permanently infertile.
His final demand was the cruelest. He said I had to "compensate" his sister for all the trouble I'd caused by donating one of my kidneys to her.
But they had made one fatal mistake. They thought I was a powerless orphan.
They didn't know I had just inherited a billion-dollar empire from a secret aunt. And I was about to use every penny to burn their world to the ground. His Last Betrayal, Her New Beginning
Romance The phone buzzed, waking me to the day my life shattered before. My fiancé, Mark, was on the line, urgently asking for five million dollars for an "investment" -the same five million he' d embezzled to buy a lavish diamond necklace for his mistress, Brittany.
This time, I was ready. I refused, reported him anonymously, and watched him get arrested. But Mark and Brittany weren' t done playing victims, painting me as the heartless villain to force my hand, ignoring the debt I' d paid from my past life, covering for his crimes.
At a party, Brittany publicly shamed me, clinging to him while he watched with the adoration I' d craved for years. He even slapped me, ending our engagement with venom. But I had a secret weapon.
He didn' t know I had the ultimate proof. A recording. A video of him confessing his scheme, detailing how he planned to use my savings to fund his affair. The reveal silenced the room, shattering their facade, and turning the public tide against them.
I walked away from the wreckage, severing all ties. But when Mark landed in jail again, his parents, good people caught in his mess, begged for my help. My heart ached for them, but not for him. I bailed him out, not out of love, but and revealed Brittany's continued manipulation. Only then did the truth finally dawn on him – but it was too late. He'd ruined our lives before, and this time, there was no turning back. I wanted a fresh start. The Neglected Daughter's Last Stand
Fantasy The voicemail clicked, just like the ninety-eighth one had. My family was busy celebrating my adopted sister Molly' s "Sweet 19" birthday, completely forgetting my own diagnosis: Acute Myeloid Leukemia, terminal, a week at most. When I tried to quietly arrange my death benefits at Social Security, they stormed in, furious.
My father bellowed about me embarrassing them on Molly's birthday, my mother sneered at my "cheap" hospital report, accusing me of faking illness for attention. Then Molly, ever the actress, cried crocodile tears, begging me to stop lying. As blood streamed from my nose onto the floor, I declared to the horrified clerk: "I have no family."
Back in the house that was never a home, Molly sweet-talked me into baking her a peanut butter pie for her party – fully aware of her severe peanut allergy that I' d been blamed for years ago. Exposed, she shrieked, faking a fall, and my father's fist found my face, sending me sprawling, blood mixing with old tears. He roared for me to get out, hurling a beer bottle that grazed my temple as I fled.
Penniless and bleeding, I collapsed in a grimy motel room, waiting to die alone. Then Molly arrived, dropping her innocent act to gloat. Her chilling confession laid bare years of malicious manipulation – the faked allergy, the bullying, the constant torment designed to make them choose her over me.
"You'll die alone," she sneered, kicking me while I was down, "and I'll have everything." She didn't see my old laptop recording her confession, or the email I sent to my family with the subject line: "The Truth." The Girl Who Died Twice: A Reckoning
Fantasy The scream died in my throat.
The phantom pain of my brutal past life, the one where I died in a desolate commune, still clung to me.
I shot up in my old teenage room, sunlight streaming in.
I was Sarah again, but with the scars of a lifetime of horror etched into my soul.
My adopted siblings, Ethan and Chloe, the architects of that horror, were downstairs.
My kind, oblivious parents were completely unaware of their true nature.
Then, Ethan's whiny voice cut through the morning, demanding a new gaming PC.
Chloe, ever the manipulator, chimed in, suggesting a "little run away" plan.
Just like they did before.
My blood ran cold.
In my first life, I was a naive fool, desperate for their approval.
I went along with it, leading me straight into an unimaginable hell while Ethan found his abusive "benefactor."
I remembered the endless suffering, the betrayal that sealed my fate.
How could they be so casually cruel, so destructive?
This time, the fear and confusion were gone.
They had been replaced by a cold, burning rage.
They thought they could play their manipulative games again.
But they were wrong.
This time, I wasn't running away.
This time, things would be different.
This time, I was ready. Claire's Cruel Cure
Modern Ethan, a cold New York executive, thought his ailing childhood sweetheart, Claire, was his only priority.
He'd banished his pregnant wife, Sarah, to a remote swamp shack, believing she'd failed Claire.
But Sarah's banishment was her brutal murder, secretly orchestrated by Claire for her unique blood.
Five years later, Claire's mysterious illness returned, sending Ethan, still oblivious, back to the shack for Sarah's power.
Instead, he found Leo, a five-year-old boy, Sarah's spitting image.
Blinded by obsession, Ethan scoffed at any mention of paternity, dismissing Leo as a "bastard."
As Claire feigned agonizing pain, he coldly ordered doctors to drain Leo's blood, convinced it held the cure.
My ghostly form hovered, screaming, my hands uselessly passing through my dying son.
How could he not see this was his own child?
How could he sacrifice our flesh and blood for the very woman who murdered me?
His oblivious cruelty was a chilling, bottomless abyss.
But as Leo lay lifeless, his blood mingled with Ethan' s own from a cut.
Just then, a horrifying secret from my shallow grave began to emerge.
The brutal truth of my violent death, and Leo' s true father, would shatter Ethan's world.
This devastating revelation would trigger a reckoning he could never escape. From Fallen Star to Power Couple
Romance My life was perfect, the American dream within reach.
I was Ash Carter, engaged to Ethan Miller, our star quarterback, future NFL legend.
We had it all mapped out: the big house, the easy life, the picture-perfect wedding.
Then, in a brutal flash, it all imploded.
An ACL tear, career-ending complications.
Ethan, my golden boy, was broken. His father disgraced.
My mother, Karen, wasted no time.
"You have to break it off, Ashley," she commanded, her voice cutting, practical.
He was a "liability," a "nobody."
The dreams of wealth and connections she envisioned for me vanished with his ruined knee.
I felt sick, my stomach churning at the thought of the conversation to come.
I knew she was right, didn't I? For my future. For her sanity.
My thumb hovered over Ethan's name, ready to end it.
Then, my phone buzzed wildly, not a call, but bright, blocky letters flashing across my vision like a game interface.
`GAME FEED: CRITICAL CHOICE!`
`ABANDONING ETHAN MILLER NOW = 'TRAGIC SPINSTER' BAD ENDING. DETAILS: Social ruin, crushing debt, lonely cat lady. Forty cats. Minimum.`
My blood ran cold. Was this real?
`ETHAN MILLER IS PROPHESIED TO ACHIEVE UNEXPECTED GREATNESS. STAY THE COURSE FOR 'POWER COUPLE' GOOD ENDING. DETAILS: Influence, respect, true partnership. Legendary status.`
My life was a game? The words "forty cats" burned behind my eyes.
Looking at Ethan, broken on the couch, the breakup words died.
Fear, stark and overwhelming, took hold.
The path was terrifyingly clear.
And I had to play. You might like
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. 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.* Too Late, Mr. Don: The Wife You Buried
Cinderella's Sister I went to the family lawyer for a routine travel clearance. Instead, I was handed a divorce decree. The ink was three years old.
While I had been playing the role of the dutiful Capo's wife, Dante had secretly divorced me the day after our fifth anniversary.
Twenty-four hours later, he legally married the nanny, Gia, and named her cruel-eyed son as his heir.
I returned home to confront him, only for the boy to throw boiling tomato soup on me.
Dante didn't check my burns. He cradled the boy and looked at me with pure, drug-fueled hatred, calling me a monster for upsetting his "son."
The final blow came in a parking garage. A car sped toward us.
Dante didn't pull me to safety. He shoved me into the vehicle's path, using my body as a human shield to protect his mistress.
Lying broken on the asphalt, I realized Aria Vitiello was already dead to him. So, I decided to make it official.
I arranged a private flight over the Atlantic and ensured there were no survivors.
By the time Dante was weeping over the wreckage, realizing too late that he had been poisoned against me, I was already in France.
The Canary was dead. The Reaper had risen. Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Fonz Nadherny 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. 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." Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse
Hu Minxue For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York.
I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him.
But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash.
In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress.
He forced me to watch him court her.
At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her.
He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain.
He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life.
I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god.
I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole.
He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps.
So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother.
I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars.
I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia.
By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost. His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Artist Returns
Zaccaria Linn On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table.
Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen.
"Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over."
I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward.
Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant.
She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest.
As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me.
He hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you."
The betrayal didn't stop there.
When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police.
When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations.
He declined the call.
He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife.
That was the moment the chain broke.
As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come.
I opened the door and jumped into the dark.
Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement.
Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one. 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. 
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