Michelle Alleity
3 Published Stories
Michelle Alleity's Books and Stories
My Boyfriend's Possessive Stepbrother.
Romance Kimberly finds herself stuck in an unfaithful relationship with her star quarterback boyfriend,Ronan,who constantly cheats on her,things begin to turn when Brandon,Ronan's new stepbrother comes into their lives and starts school at Blackwool Royal High,he becomes the new center of attention due to his good looks and football skills,which gains him more spite from his stepbrother. When Brandon unashamedly shows his interest in Kimberly, things start to get complicated and it costs them more than they bargained for. Will Kimberly overcome temptation or will she fall into it's clutches?
Lies, kidnapping, obsessions,manipulation and betrayal threaten to consume them all as they fight tooth and nail to get whatever they want.
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The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Shore Tour I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire.
On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own.
"Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy."
My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry.
He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance.
I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever.
Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network.
The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun. 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.
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." No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
Amigo On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.
Not for business. For her.
I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.
For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.
So I chose myself.
Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back.
When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands.
But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed.
He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back.
A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost. My Ruthless Mafia Ex-Husband Begs For Mercy
Little Pink Lace I was the devoted wife of Pietro, the untouchable Don of the New York Syndicate. I thought my love could bridge the gap between my civilian life and his brutal underworld.
Then, I swiped open his unlocked private tablet.
I discovered he had been forwarding my most intimate boudoir photos, desperate texts, and sweet voice notes to a dark web group chat filled with his ruthless soldiers and his female associate, Zoya.
They dissected my naked body for amusement.
Pietro captioned my lingerie photo, "Like a starving animal," and told his men I was just a "stable cover" with a clean background.
When I cried over his safety during a turf war, his Capos joked about my whimpers. Pietro bragged to them that starving me of attention was standard protocol to break me.
When I confronted him with the evidence, he didn't apologize.
"You are acting bitter and hysterical. A Don doesn't have time for civilian trivialities."
He warned me that if I walked out, I would be dead to his world, dismissing my absolute humiliation as mere locker-room talk.
My affection for him had been a form of worship, yet my marriage was nothing but a spectator sport for his entire regime. He traded my dignity to feed his god-complex.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for his love.
Instead, I packed my bags, transferred every damning screenshot to a secure drive, and calmly handed the files over to the Syndicate Elders.
It was time to burn his empire to the ground. The Don's $46 Million Mistake
HONEY MULLINS I married Luca Falcone, the most dangerous Mafia Don in New York, believing our arranged union had blossomed into true love.
But exactly five minutes after our vows, he smashed my father's face into the glass wedding table in front of three hundred guests.
"Giovanni Rossi is accused of embezzling forty-six million dollars from this Family!"
With those words, he sentenced my father to a brutal blood tribunal.
I was dragged into a freezing underground cell in my ruined silk wedding dress.
His Head of Intelligence threw a surveillance dossier at me, revealing that Luca's twenty months of romance was just a cold, calculated investigation to destroy my family.
My mother was left dry-heaving on the marble floor in terror, and my father's heart gave out as he was dragged to the infirmary.
I stared at the photos of our dates, the agonizing realization suffocating me.
Every morning coffee, every gentle touch, and every whispered promise in the dark was an elaborate lie.
He had tracked my every move for nearly two years but never trusted me enough to just ask about the money, choosing the word of a jealous operative over his own wife.
So, I wiped my tears and stopped playing the docile bride.
I calmly summoned my corporate lawyer and dropped the federal tax records proving I was a secret billionaire CEO.
The forty-six million was my own legal money, saved to treat my father's terminal cancer.
Ignoring the ruthless Don as he finally dropped to his knees in tears, I left my wedding ring on the divorce papers and walked out. 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."