Sustie Writes
2 Published Stories
Sustie Writes's Books and Stories
In Love With The Mafia Lord
Mafia "Aliya..."
Jordan growled, his deep, masculine voice sending shivers down my spine.
My heart skipped a beat as his words wrapped around me like a cold, unforgiving vice. My legs trembled beneath me, the pain from yesterday's injuries forgotten in the face of fear. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, urging me to flee.
With a Herculean effort, I stumbled out of the room, my broken legs protesting every step.
'F**k off,' I cursed, defying the one person I knew I shouldn't - Jordan Black. He's a monster. He's not someone I should have met in the first place.
"Come back here, Aliya," he growled, his voice dripping with malice.
I gritted my teeth, determined to escape.
"Take one more step, and you're dead tonight," he snarled, his threat sending shivers down my spine.
Despite his ominous warning, I pushed forward, gripping the wall for support. My heart raced as I feared he'd soon catch up.
"I'd provoked the monster himself, and now I'd face the consequences."
But I had to try; I had to break free from his suffocating grasp.
"I'll make sure you regret your existence, Aliya," Jordan bellowed, his footsteps closing in.
"Jordan, don't come any closer! Leave me the f**k alone!" I screamed, but my weak limbs betrayed me, and I crashed to the floor.
With every last ounce of strength, I crawled into my room and grasped the door knob, ready to slam it shut in his face. But Jordan was relentless, kicking the door with such force that the wood splintered into pieces.
I screamed in shock, and before I knew it, I was thrown onto the bed. Breathing heavily, I turned to face the wicked man standing over me, his eyes blazing with fury.
"By nightfall Liya, you'll wish you never crossed me."
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Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Bestie's Dad Popped My Cherry
Oye's Pen "You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?"
I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin.
"You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs.
"Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please."
"Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled.
"Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?
I Will Make Him a Widower
REGINA HUTCHINSON I was washing the caked blood from my five-year-old daughter's broken body in the family mortuary. She had been tortured to death by a rival cartel.
My husband Julian, the underworld's legendary "Master of Whispers," claimed his intelligence division did everything they could, but the rescue coordinates were wrong.
Yet, while I stood over our child's corpse, he was busy comforting his new apprentice, Chloe.
She posted a picture of their intertwined hands online, bragging that she had "accidentally deleted a crucial audio file" yesterday, but the boss had held her hand and forgiven her.
Yesterday. The exact day my daughter died.
When I confronted him, Julian slapped me across the face in front of our men.
"You carry the curse of your bloodline! You are an omen of death! You brought this on her!"
He blamed me for our child's slaughter, demanding I apologize to his mistress, while he secretly wiped the server logs to protect the incompetent girl who got our daughter killed.
He actually thought I would just swallow the grief, refusing a divorce because I still loved him, allowing him to use my family's immense wealth to play house with his whore.
But he forgot one crucial detail.
His legendary "God's Ear" was a total myth, a lie entirely powered by the secret algorithms I funded to cover up his permanent deafness.
I calmly gathered the ashes of my daughter from the floor and picked up my phone.
"Initiate an immediate withdrawal of all funds from Julian's division. Let them bleed." The Broken Artist's Spectacular Mafia Comeback
Xiao Yan I forged the blueprints that crowned my husband a mafia Capo, saving him when he was nothing.
But after he rose to power, he favored his new female associate, Gia, and handed her my life's work—my coded art book.
When I went to retrieve it, Gia slashed my right hand with a switchblade, severing my tendons. My career as an artist died on that floor.
My husband rushed into the room, looked at my destroyed hand—and stepped past me to shield her.
"Have you lost your mind? She was just following my orders!"
He saw what she had done. He chose to look away.
He protected the woman who mutilated me, blaming me for starting the fight.
I stared at the man I had spent four years building from pieces.
He was protecting another woman, willfully blind to the fact that I was the true architect of his empire.
Why did I sacrifice everything for a man whose memory and conscience were so easily corrupted?
Without a word, I walked past them, letting my blood drip onto his expensive leather shoes.
I calmly called the syndicate Enforcers to report a theft, filed for divorce, and froze all his assets.
He thought my life was over. He forgot that the woman who built his empire with her right hand could tear it down with her left. 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. 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. 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. 
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