Sofia Wade
19 Published Stories
Sofia Wade's Books and Stories
The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Mafia 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." Married To My Ex-Husband's Billionaire Uncle
Modern To celebrate the end of her ten-year marriage, Isabelle Wells got blackout drunk and used a hotel keycard gifted by a friend to find an "escort."
She poured out her heart about her husband Bradford cheating on her with her best friend, then dragged the handsome stranger into bed. But the next morning, the "escort" was wearing a tailored Armani suit. He wasn't a paid professional. He was Grayson Lloyd, the ruthless billionaire head of the Lloyd empire—and her ex-husband's untouchable uncle.
Grayson trapped her against the door, showing her the scratch marks on his back, and coldly demanded she marry him as "compensation." Terrified, Isabelle fled, only to receive a devastating phone call. Bradford had framed her mother's small business for food contamination, threatening her with prison time. When Isabelle desperately rushed to beg Bradford for mercy, he and his mistress laughed in her face.
"Get on your knees and tell everyone how you failed our marriage."
Bradford sneered in the crowded bar, demanding she take the blame publicly just to save her mother. Isabelle stared at the man she had loved and supported for a decade. He didn't want to help; he just wanted to completely break her spirit and prove she was nothing without him.
The despair burned away, leaving behind cold steel. Instead of kneeling, Isabelle poured a glass of champagne over Bradford's head, doused her former best friend, and walked out. Pulling out Grayson Lloyd's black business card, she dialed the devil's private number. She was going to marry the uncle, and they were all going to pay. The Betrayed Wife's Ruthless Mafia Comeback
Mafia For five years, I was the flawless wife to the heir of the De Luca empire, securing billion-dollar acquisitions to prove my worth.
But my husband, Alessandro, still paraded his mistress in our home, publicly humiliating me as a "cold spreadsheet" while she sneered in triumph.
It didn't stop at infidelity. When I dared to cut off her credit cards, Alessandro decided to teach me a lesson.
He allowed his mistress to secretly file down the metal clasp on my horse's saddle right before a massive public equestrian event.
My leg was completely shattered in a horrific, agonizing fall in front of hundreds of elite guests.
While I lay bleeding in the dirt, my husband didn't even glance my way. Instead, he rushed to hold his mistress, shielding her eyes from the gruesome sight.
Later, pretending to be unconscious in the infirmary, I overheard him ordering his guards.
"Get rid of the saddle. It was just a lesson to remind her who's in charge."
He didn't just want me humiliated; he wanted me crippled and broken.
As the sterile smell of the hospital hit me, a horrifying realization set in—I was two weeks late. I was pregnant with his child.
The thought of my baby growing up in this ruthless, toxic family made my blood run cold, and the last spark of my love turned into absolute hatred.
The obedient wife died on that dirt track.
I quietly contacted his family's biggest rival and activated my secret scorched-earth protocol. It was time to burn his empire to the ground. Taming My Silent Billionaire Contract Husband
Romance I transmigrated into a novel as the cannon-fodder wife of Garrison Harvey, an ice-cold Wall Street billionaire.
According to the original plot, my fake best friend Adelaide was sitting across from me right now, secretly recording me complaining about my suffocating marriage.
That single audio clip breached my strict prenuptial agreement. Because of it, I was thrown out of the penthouse with absolutely nothing. I can still feel the freezing rain hitting my face and the rough concrete scraping my knees. I remember Garrison handing me the divorce papers without a single word or a second glance. And I remember Adelaide standing in the warm luxury lobby, smiling her perfectly contoured smile as she watched me freeze on the streets.
Until my last breath, my lungs burned with bitter injustice. Why did I let a fake friend manipulate me into giving up my wealth? Why did I expect romance from a mute, robotic CEO instead of just taking the money?
Blinking hard, the blurry cafe sharpened into focus. I was back.
Adelaide was leaning forward, her phone face-down with the red recording timer running, coaxing me to vent about my husband.
Instead of falling into her trap, I stretched my lips into a flawless, sickeningly sweet smile.
"Torture?" I said loudly, making sure the microphone caught every word. "I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Garrison is the most perfect husband in all of New York."
This time, I'm treating my icy contract husband like my ultimate VIP client, and that massive trust fund will be mine. The Pregnant Heiress: Rising From The Grave
Modern I was kneeling on a Persian rug in my custom Vera Wang, staring at the headline that ended my life: my father had been arrested for a massive Ponzi scheme.
I reached for my phone to call my groom, Claudius, but he disconnected the line. Then I heard the sound that stopped my heart—the deadbolt sliding home from the outside.
Two floors down, my mother-in-law was already calculating the cost of my survival. To save the family’s stock prices, they decided a "grieving widower" was better than a disgraced bride. Claudius didn't even flinch. He downed a whiskey and gave the order to the staff.
"Do it."
The door swung open, but it wasn't my husband. It was the housekeeper and a maid wearing medical gloves. They pinned me down, ignoring my screams, and plunged a syringe of potassium chloride into my neck. They scattered pills across the floor, staging a perfect suicide while I felt my heart rhythm fail.
"I'm pregnant. Please."
I sobbed into the silk cushions, but they didn't pause. As the darkness swallowed the room, I realized my entire marriage had been a transaction, and I was now a liability to be liquidated. How could the man I loved sign my death warrant? Why was my best friend already wearing my engagement ring before my body was even cold?
But they forgot one thing: I was an Elliott, and we always have a contingency plan. The poison didn't kill me; it only woke me up. When I stood up from that chaise lounge, the bride was gone. I was holding the secret ledger that would burn their empire to the ground.
"Have a lovely audit." The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge
Modern For seven years, I funded my husband Gonzalo's PhD. I paid for everything. A week after our wedding, his young "mentee," Kloe, moved in with us, claiming a rare autoimmune disorder made her "fragile."
On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough.
When I refused, he ripped it off my body.
I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow.
Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper."
But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve.
I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion." His Wife's Venomous Betrayal
Romance The pregnancy test showed two pink lines, and pure joy surged through me.
I, Ethan Miller, was finally going to be a father.
But then my wife, Sophia, dropped a bomb that shattered everything.
"The child isn't yours, Ethan. It's Liam's."
The world tilted.
My perfect life, a fragile lie built on Sophia' s deceit, crumbled.
Tragedy compounded days later: Sophia was in a car accident, a miscarriage.
Liam, her lover, was behind the wheel.
Then, at a company gala, Sophia, radiant and cruel, seized a microphone.
Her eyes, cold and furious, locked onto mine.
"My husband, Ethan Miller," she announced, her voice dripping with venom, "is a monster."
She publicly accused me of sabotaging her, of causing her miscarriage out of jealousy.
The accusation was so monstrous, so far from the truth, I could only stand paralyzed.
Her final blow: "I'm making him get a vasectomy. He will pay for what he did to my baby."
They forced me into it, stripping me of my rights, my future, my very manhood.
I returned home, a ghost in my own house, only to find Liam brazenly occupying my study.
He flaunted his victory, mocking my pain, even using my Pritzker Prize as a coaster.
Then, he shattered my most prized possession: my mother' s music box.
"Oh, that old thing," Sophia said, unconcerned. "It was gathering dust. I gave it to Liam."
Something inside me broke.
My hand bleeding, heart shattered, I watched Sophia fuss over a supposedly ill Liam.
She shrieked, "What did you do to him? What did you put in his drink? You want to take everything from me!"
The doctor' s diagnosis: Liam just had a bad hangover.
My pain was real, her accusation a baseless lie.
Sophia offered a fleeting, empty apology, but the chasm between us was too deep.
I decided then: no more.
I had to fight back for my sanity, for my future, for myself. Worthless No More: A Mother's Triumph
Romance The stale coffee and expensive cologne was a mix I knew all too well-my boyfriend, Mark, was in a good mood, which always meant he wanted something from me. I was deep in the code of my indie game, my passion project, a world that was entirely mine.
Then he dropped the bombshell: a "strategic networking event" with his "business visionary" childhood friend, Brittany, whom he clearly admired far more than me.
My heart sank as he waved away my concerns about overdue rent and bills-money I' d given him to pay. Not for the first time, he dismissed my "pixels and stories" as not "real business," just as he had dismissed every cent I' d poured into his failing startup.
The true blow landed when he sneered, "It's no wonder you can't even do the one thing a woman is supposed to do right. You can't even get pregnant. What good are you?" After a year of desperate hopes and private pain, his words cut me to my core.
He was right there, dismissing my worth in the most cruel way imaginable, while spending my earnings to impress someone else.
In that moment, everything shifted. I watched him walk out, slamming the door, demanding I leave my apartment-the one I paid for. I was broken, homeless, and worthless, just as he said. But as I looked across the courtyard at my quiet neighbor, Liam' s, light, a flicker of defiance sparked. I had nowhere else to go, but I knew I couldn't stay. That night, I knocked on a stranger's door, ready to reclaim my life, piece by painful piece. The Wife Who Fought Back
Romance I was seven months pregnant, living a fairytale life as the wife of a powerful Congressman. Julian stroked my belly, whispering dreams of our son' s future, and I truly believed I had it all.
Then, a cold dread seized me. I' d just overheard Julian on the phone, his voice urgent, planning to use me as bait for a predatory federal prosecutor. Not for us, but to save his high school sweetheart, the woman he truly loved.
My perfect world didn't just crack; it exploded into a million sharp pieces. Every intimate moment, every precious gift, was a cruel, recycled memory from his past with her. In his eyes, I was a mere tool, a sacrifice.
My heart pounded a sick rhythm as I stared at the man I thought I loved, now revealed as a calculating monster. The betrayal was an Arctic wind, chilling me to the bone, but beneath it, a burning rage began to smolder.
He thought I was a naive girl from the wrong side of the tracks, easily manipulated. He was gravely mistaken. I wasn't his victim; I was about to become his reckoning. Her Hidden Family, His Stolen Life
Modern For two decades, Ethan diligently built a restaurant empire alongside his wife, Sarah, fulfilling their DINK pact. He even underwent a vasectomy and publicly claimed infertility, protecting her from family judgment, believing their shared dream was unbreakable.
Then, a single legal document shattered his meticulously crafted world: a share transfer agreement for two 10-year-olds, Finn and Belle Miller. A quiet inquiry confirmed the unthinkable – they were Sarah' s secret children, born a decade ago, with her "childhood friend," Mark.
Sarah, chillingly, dismissed them as a "platonic favor," clarifying she still didn't want children "with him." Her family sided with her, portraying Ethan as unreasonable. Humiliation deepened at a public party when Sarah announced major company shares would go to Finn and Belle, cementing Ethan's public replacement. The ultimate insult: when Finn lied about Ethan, Sarah, without a blink, slapped her husband, choosing her secret son's word over their twenty years of marriage.
How could he have been so blind? He'd sacrificed his chance at fatherhood, endured silent pity and judgment, all for a woman who secretly built an entire, separate life, using his devotion as camouflage. The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound.
With cold resolve, Ethan signed the divorce papers, leaving behind a video revealing the truth of Finn' s lie and Sarah' s unquestioning cruelty. He walked out forever, ready to find a peace she' d never allowed him. My Blood, My Destiny Rewritten
Xuanhuan My blood is a secret, a rare healing gift, but in my first life, it sealed my painful destiny.
Because I healed Ethan Davenport Jr., an ancient family pact forced me into a miserable marriage with him, a man who despised me and loved the cunning Veronica Sterling.
Veronica, in a vicious plot, faked a terrible accident and convinced Ethan that only my special blood could save her.
Blinded by his infatuation, Ethan ruthlessly demanded my life essence, forcing me to bleed for her, again and again.
I died from exsanguination, my extraordinary power grotesquely twisted into the instrument of my demise.
The revelation of Veronica's calculated deception and my husband's complicity was a shattering, unbearable injustice that followed me into the void.
But then, I woke up, back on the precise day my tragedy began, granted an impossible second chance.
This time, I will not be a victim; I will rewrite my fate, wielding my gift to build a life of my own choosing, far from their shadows. The Man She Thought She Owned
Romance Tonight, under the spotlight at AuraConnect's 10th-anniversary gala, I was ready to make Jessica, my high school sweetheart and business partner, my wife.
We had built a multi-billion-dollar empire from nothing.
But as I knelt, ring in hand, her eyes weren't on me; they were glued to her phone, a private smile playing on her lips.
Then came her dismissive laugh, echoing through the silent ballroom.
"Oh, Liam," she scoffed, in front of everyone, "That's... sweet. But really? Now?"
She dismissed our proposal as "awkward," then coolly walked away, texting, towards a handsome model.
Later, I overheard her calling me "stifling" and heard her say, "Younger men are just so much more... appreciative."
Watching her kiss him, the absolute betrayal ripped through me.
How could the woman I dedicated my life to, built everything with, treat me with such casual, public cruelty?
My decade of devotion, my love, meant utterly nothing.
She truly believed I' d come crawling back, declaring I couldn' t live without her.
But she was wrong.
I shredded the wedding tuxedo, boxed up all her gifts, and left a note: "Goodbye."
Then, I booked a one-way ticket to Boston, determined to build a new life, far from her toxic shadow, and never look back. The House-Husband Who Was Rex
Romance I gave it all up. My reputation as "Rex," the undefeated legal titan of LA, my multi-billion dollar cases, the power, the respect.
For three years, I was just Ethan Miller, Olivia Hayes's devoted husband, the "house-husband" who cooked, cleaned, and managed her life, hoping she'd finally truly see me.
But her world revolved around Julian Vance, her celebrity ex-boyfriend. Every conversation, every decision, every raw emotion was for him. I thought I'd hit rock bottom when she casually bought me a new suit, only for me to realize it was a gift for Julian.
Then, at Julian's lavish birthday party, he publicly confessed his "undying love" for Olivia. She cried, heartbroken, while I stood by, dismissed as her "support" and the punchline of a cruel joke. Not once did she defend me.
I'd quietly driven myself to the ER after she fussed over Julian's tiny scratch instead of my bleeding, deeply cut hand.
I'd listened to her colleagues pity me, calling me a "saint" for tolerating her obsession. But that night, seeing her openly weep for a man who wasn't her husband, after all I' d sacrificed… a freezing clarity washed over me.
Why had I wasted three years? Why had I become invisible? How could I have been so blind? My foolish support had only enabled her toxic obsession.
When I walked out of that party, I wasn't just leaving Olivia; I was burying Ethan Miller. Rex was coming back, and he was bringing hell with him. Olivia Hayes was about to learn the true cost of underestimating patience, and the man she so carelessly discarded. Reborn on the Quarry's Edge
Modern The ground rumbled beneath my worn boots as I washed mason jars, a seemingly ordinary afternoon in my quiet kitchen.
Then, Martha' s scream, thin and sharp with fear, shattered the peace: my mother-in-law was frozen, having stepped on something deadly in the old quarry land.
I called my husband Jack, an ex-Army EOD tech, but his dismissive voice echoed a past life I' d already endured, confirming he was with his mistress Brenda.
He laughed, calling me "hysterical," just as he had when his neglect contributed to Martha' s death once before, refusing to believe his own mother was in danger.
A cold wave of memories washed over me: his past betrayal, Martha' s agonizing death, and his self-serving contempt, all replaying this horrific scene.
Could I really trust him, the man who owed his life to my parents' sacrifice, to save his own mother now when he' d failed so callously?
But this rebirth wasn't just a curse; it was a warning.
I wouldn't let Martha die again.
Drawing on fractured memories of Jack' s EOD training, I stepped onto the live explosive, taking Martha' s place.
A sickening click affirmed my choice, marking the moment I chose defiance and survival – this time, things would be different. The Monster They Made: Now He's Free
Sci-fi My name is Ethan Miller, and my very life was a countdown.
Since childhood, a chilling experiment called "Project Chimera" tied my vitality to the genuine love and acceptance of my adoptive family, the Harrisons, and my fiancée, Olivia.
My existence hinged on their affection – a high "Resonance Score" meant I lived, a plummet meant I died.
For years, I had believed I had it all: a loving home, a woman I cherished, a perfect life.
But then Julian, their biological son, returned, spinning tales of suffering, effortlessly manipulating everyone.
My Resonance Score dipped, then plummeted, as Eleanor and Richard embraced their prodigal son, and Olivia's loyalty shattered.
They turned on me, accusing me of jealousy, ignoring my desperate pleas to expose Julian' s lies, labeling me cruel for questioning their "fragile" Julian.
The physical decline was brutal, a constant reminder of their withdrawing love, culminating in Julian's fabricated "life-threatening condition" needing my liver.
Olivia, my fiancée, the woman I loved, delivered the cruel ultimatum: save him, or our wedding was off.
As I lay on that gurney, about to be carved open for a lie, the overwhelming feeling was not just physical pain, but the crushing realization of their utter betrayal.
I was dying, not from disease, but from a profound lack of the love that sustained me, a love they had twisted into a weapon against me.
But just as the darkness claimed me on the operating table, a cold, clear voice pierced the void: "Host Ethan Miller: Deceased. New mission protocol initiating. Stand by for host reintegration."
Ethan Miller was gone. But something new, something dangerously different, was about to begin. The Gold Digger's True Story
Romance My father' s Medal of Honor sat on my dresser, a stark reminder of sacrifice.
With my mother dying and medical bills crushing us, I agreed to Eleanor Thornton's offer: marry her comatose son, Ethan, for my mother's life.
Five years later, I'd raised Leo and Lily, managing the estate.
Then Ethan awoke.
His first words were a snarl: "She looks like a gold-digger."
With his mother and ex-girlfriend Ashley, he launched a campaign of humiliation, twisting my every action.
They staged a fake poisoning, making me appear malicious.
My defenses fueled their accusations, confirming my supposed greed.
Then came the ultimate threat: he'd gain sole custody, declaring me an unfit mother.
"Ashley will be the mother to my children."
That was the breaking point.
I would not lose my children.
I wrote to General Markwell, my father' s closest friend, invoking the honor he stood for.
The sudden arrival of a JAG officer at our mansion signaled the Thornton family was about to face a power far beyond their influence. The Farm Girl\'s Billionaire Secret
Modern My dad, Marcus Sterling, banished me to a remote Montana ranch after my ill-advised crypto-smoothie investment turned into an SEC headache.
I, Ava Sterling, prodigal daughter of a tech mogul, was serving time for a very expensive lapse in judgment.
All I wanted was a cell signal, a working phone, and to beg my dad for the G650 jet back home.
The ranch, with its endless shoveling and broken fences, felt like a temporary purgatory.
Then, on the eleventh morning, a sleek black Escalade crunched up the gravel driveway.
A woman stepped out, an older, tired reflection of me, introducing herself as Eleanor Vance, my birth mother.
The mother who, according to vague family stories, had vanished when I was a baby.
It was an utterly shocking reunion, one I never anticipated.
Eleanor quickly swept me into her opulent, yet startlingly cold, life in the city.
Her grand house was a blur of shimmering dresses and tailored suits, a world away from my farm attire.
My introduction to her husband, Richard Harrison, and her mean-girl daughter, Chloe, was anything but welcoming.
"What is *that*?" Chloe drawled, her voice dripping with disdain at my mud-caked boots and ripped jeans.
Richard's gaze was ice-cold as he demanded, "Get this… person out of my house."
Despite Eleanor's tearful proclamations that I was "the one we lost," I was met with contempt and immediate rejection.
The DNA test confirmed my identity, yet their attitude toward me only hardened; I was just an inconvenient truth.
Why did this newfound family, after supposedly searching for me for two decades, treat me like an embarrassing relic?
Their shock, their anger, their open scorn for me, the daughter they supposedly yearned for, left me bewildered and quietly seething.
I, Ava Sterling, who was used to being celebrated, was now their dirty secret, a farm girl to be hidden away.
But I wasn't some pitiable charity case; I was a genius accustomed to winning.
As I picked up a plate of roast beef, ignoring their stares, a thought solidified: if they wanted a "farm girl" who was easily underestimated, they would certainly get one.
This was a game, and I was just getting warmed up. Baby Genius: Dad, Where Are You
Romance If it hadn’t been for what transpired on that momentous night, Eva wouldn’t have given birth to her son, Jason. The identity of the father, however, was unknown not only to Jason but also to his mother who didn’t for sure who the father of her son was. Five years later, Eva returned to her hometown and landed a job as a designer at one of the biggest companies in the country, the Dolly Group. Her new fresh new job led her to meet Santosh, CEO of the Dolly Group, an iron-faced devil whose life was shrouded in mystery. On most occasions, he would find himself uninterested by women, but there was something different about Eva that caught his eye. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
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 Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. The Hidden Medical Genius: Healing My Crippled Mafia Boss
Roldan Mccartney One wedding. Two brides. A lethal trap.
My stepsister got the sparkling gown and the Mafia’s golden heir.
I got a five-dollar dress and a dying groom.
My father traded me away to seal a silent assassination, selling me to Damien Carlisle—a paralyzed, disfigured warlord whose enemies were eagerly waiting for sepsis to claim his life.
"He won't last a month," my stepsister mocked, pouring wine down my back. "Enjoy being a widow, dear sister."
Stranded in a cold, decaying manor with a dying man and traitorous servants, I was expected to weep and perish in the dark.
They made one fatal mistake.
The weak, pathetic girl they trampled on is gone. In her place stands a soul back from another world—armed with supreme medical tech, lethal toxin mastery, and the V-9 AI system.
I opened my medical bag and looked at the sleeping beast beside me.
They sent me here to die with a crippled outcast.
Instead, I’m going to build an Emperor—and tear their world apart piece by piece. 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. Eternal Night of Seduction: From Abandoned Mistress To Mafia Queen
rabbit Selena Menezwa had been with Caius Capone, the illegitimate son of the mafia family, for ten years.
Yet, on the day he took power, the family called someone else the "Godmother".
Caius, his hands still stained with blood and gripping a gun, held Charlotte Wodehurst, a pure-looking beauty in his arms.
"Selena, don't blame me. You never had a proper education, and you're too unrestrained. You're not fit to be the Godmother. Charlotte is different. She was born into nobility and is the second violinist in the orchestra. You can stick around without a ring, but she can't."
Selena didn't argue; she simply turned and left.
What Caius didn't know was that she was the princess of the powerful Menezwa family and the concertmaster of the very orchestra where Charlotte played.
The Menezwa family, well aware of Selena's reckless streak, had already prepared a man for her.
The arms dealer Caius was desperate to win over was already eager to become her fiancé. Too Late, Mr. Mafia: The Surgeon He Discarded
Winnie Suchoff I was the wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country.
But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me.
I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth.
My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated.
I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife.
In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed.
Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets.
I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse.
Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began.
Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears.
"Take your time to think about it."
This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life.
I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned. 
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