Xiao Yan
17 Published Stories
Xiao Yan's Books and Stories
The Broken Artist's Spectacular Mafia Comeback
Mafia 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. My Fated Alpha Signed My Death Warrant
Werewolf I was an ordinary human who got trapped inside a novel as the Luna of a ruthless Alpha.
But for seven years, he never marked me, always prioritizing his adopted sister over my life—a woman who had hated me from the day I first stepped into their world.
After a car crash orchestrated by that very sister, I lay bleeding on a hospital bed.
My husband rushed in, not to comfort me, but to scold me.
"Do not be so theatrical over a few scratches. You are terrifying Selene."
In his rush to comfort his completely unharmed sister, he snatched my medical consent form and blindly signed it without reading a single word.
He unknowingly authorized a lethal transfusion of Lycan-grade blood for my fragile human veins.
As the dark blood tore my organs apart like liquid fire, the healers frantically called him to save my life.
But he used his Alpha authority to block the hospital's emergency frequency, too busy renting an entire amusement park to celebrate his sister's safe return.
I lay there choking on my own blood, listening to my heart monitor flatline.
Why did I spend seven years loving a man who would casually sign my death warrant just to play the hero for a traitor?
But he didn't know I had made a deal with a cross-dimensional entity—seven years in his world, one death by his hand, in exchange for my passage home.
As my soul left that broken body and I woke up perfectly healthy in my original world, my final gift activated—a dead-man's switch, loaded with every dirty secret they thought they had buried.
Now, I was free. And he was about to learn that the fragile human wife he threw away had just detonated a bomb under everything he ever owned. His Betrayal Forged My Ruthless Soul
Mafia Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept." Too Late, Alpha: I Am Free Now
Werewolf The pack was howling in celebration outside, roaring for their new, undisputed Alpha. My husband, Ryker. But inside my study, there was only the quiet scratch of my pen signing my true name.
For thirteen years, I had endured a hollow, loveless mating. On the day we met, he publicly humiliated me, claiming my fated scent was just "mud and weeds." Since then, he treated me with nothing but cold disdain, openly flaunting his flirtations with another she-wolf while I desperately tried to be his perfect Luna.
I shattered my own soul to build his empire. I spent my nights securing his political alliances and finding his enemies' weaknesses in secret, all to fulfill a deathbed promise to his mother. Yet, he took all the credit, viewing me as a weak, useless accessory. Even his pack warriors looked at me with contempt.
Tonight, his power was finally secure, and my debt was paid. But when I laid the ancient Rite of Rejection on the council table, he just smirked. He arrogantly assumed it was a hysterical, jealous tantrum over his mistress, completely blind to the fact that my heart had died to him years ago.
"This isn't a threat, Ryker. This is a notice."
Using the very treaties I had secretly forged to trap him, I forced the mighty Alpha to accept my rejection, walking away from his wealth and his pack with nothing but the clothes on my back and my long-lost freedom. Hiding His Twins From The Underboss
Mafia I saved a man bleeding out in the snow. He had no memory, so I called him Ben.
We lived in a cabin, fell in love, and married by firelight with no witnesses but the ghosts of my parents.
Then one day, he disappeared.
Two years later, he returned. Not as my husband, but as Bernard Logan, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family.
And he didn't remember me.
He brought his cruel new fiancée to my clinic and treated me like a stranger.
When she threw my father’s antique music box into a cactus display, he watched as I tore my hands apart trying to save it.
He called our past a "drug-induced hallucination" and threatened to destroy me if I spoke up.
Worst of all, I found out I was pregnant.
He cornered me in the hospital room, his eyes cold and devoid of the warmth I used to know.
"Is it mine?"
I knew if I said yes, he would turn my child into a killer like him. Or his fiancée would ensure we never survived.
So I looked the love of my life in the eye and lied.
"No," I said. "It's not yours."
I signed his NDA, took his hush money, and vanished to Europe to raise my twins alone.
I thought I was free. I found a good man who actually loved me.
But three years later, at an art gallery in Zurich, the crowd parted.
Bernard was standing there, staring at me with a terrifying hunger.
He had found out the truth.
And he was ready to burn the world down to get us back. Too Late For Regret, My Love
Modern My fiancé Brett and I were building a design empire. When he broke his leg, he hired a temporary housekeeper, Glenda, while I was away on business. I thought she was there to help; I didn't realize she was there to replace me.
She systematically took over my home, turning Brett against me piece by piece. The final straw was finding my cat, Apollo, locked in a cage, bruised and starving.
When I confronted them, Brett defended her. He called me a monster and told me to get rid of my cat for the sake of the baby I was secretly carrying.
The shock of his betrayal was so profound that I miscarried that night.
He never knew. He just screamed that I was a cold, calculating bitch and that Glenda was a "good woman" who truly loved him.
So I left. I took my cat, liquidated my half of our company, and disappeared. Three years later, I walked into an industry gala and saw him across the room-a broken man. He looked at me with desperate regret, but I just smiled. My revenge wouldn't be loud; it would be my success. The Unshakeable Queen Returns
Horror I came home from a business trip, and my husband told me our six-year-old son was dead. He showed me the dashcam footage of Leo dying of heatstroke, left alone in the car by his young nanny, Kendall.
But instead of seeking justice, my husband locked me in the car and turned the heat on full blast, recreating our son's final moments. He demanded the password to my phone to delete the footage, snarling that we couldn't ruin a twenty-year-old's future over a "mistake."
To force my hand, he had thugs break into my elderly father's nursing home room, threatening him on a live video call.
Later, at our son's memorial, he defended Kendall as she took selfies with the casket and played pop music. He helped her show a manipulated video to the crowd, painting me as a negligent, career-obsessed mother.
The mourners threw drinks at me while my husband protected his lover. The next day, I learned the truth. My father, after being blackmailed by those same thugs, had taken his own life to protect me.
My husband hadn't just covered up a murder; he had caused another. He thought he had won, that he had destroyed all the evidence and broken me completely.
But he forgot one thing. The GPS smartwatch on our son's wrist. It recorded everything—not just his death, but every cruel, taunting word Kendall whispered as she let him die. Rejected No More: My True Lover
Romance The cold, damp air clung to me as I stood on the porch of the Hayes family home. It was late, the kind of late where the world feels heavy and silent. I swallowed hard and asked Mrs. Hayes, "Is it true? That Liam... that he's been in love with me? His whole life?" Her brilliant smile was the answer, confirming a devotion I hadn't recognized.
For years, I had held a secret, hopeless love for my adoptive brother, Ethan Miller, who had practically raised me. Sketchbooks filled with his face were my hidden treasure-until he found them. His face wasn' t just shocked; it was filled with pure disgust. "This is sick, Chloe," he spat, throwing the sketchbook at my feet.
From that day, my life became a living hell. His new girlfriend, Madison Lee, my college roommate, systematically framed me for everything. Ethan, my Ethan, believed her every time, his cold, disappointed eyes killing a piece of me with every glance. The final blow came when he announced their wedding, then threw me out of the house.
The Chloe who loved Ethan Miller died that night. Tonight, a new Chloe was born, one who would sever every tie and burn every bridge. I doused my sketchbooks in lighter fluid and watched them burn, his smile turning to ash. I texted Liam Hayes one word: Yes. He immediately replied, I'm on the first flight back. Don't go anywhere. I'm coming home.
Ethan stood, his eyes wild with confusion, as he stared at the burning remains of my past. "Why?" he demanded, as I quoted him, "Because they're disgusting. You said so yourself." I announced my engagement to Liam, on the exact same date as his wedding. My parents nodded, relieved, but Mrs. Miller's smile faltered. "But... Chloe, that's Ethan and Madison's wedding day." "I know," I replied. "It's a good day to start a new life." Fight For Her Vision
Modern The scent of wet concrete used to be the perfume of my dreams, the promise of my architectural masterpiece taking shape.
Until I stood on the muddy ground of my construction site and saw it: a clumsy, awkward box, nothing like the light-filled space I' d designed.
My ex-boyfriend, Mark Davis, had offered to handle the plan submissions as a "parting gift."
It turns out, his gift was a betrayal.
He' d swapped my intricate blueprints for cheap, generic plans bought online.
My dream home was being built into a monstrosity, a monument to his fraud.
When I confronted him, Mark' s voice dripped with condescension.
He' d made "practical tweaks" to make it "more sellable," he claimed.
Then he blocked me, leaving me with a sabotaged project, mounting fees, and a crumbling reputation.
My attempts to find justice through official channels were met with bureaucratic indifference.
They saw a "messy breakup," a "disgruntled ex-girlfriend," not a professional crime.
They even suggested I compromise, perhaps "compensate" the man destroying my career.
But I wouldn' t compromise.
I would fight.
My last, desperate hope lay with Arthur Vance, my formidable former mentor, who had given me a sculpture years ago as a mark of his personal favor.
I knew it was my only leverage.
I had to get to him, no matter the cost.
My next move would be a gamble, a desperate attempt to reclaim my truth. Her Hidden Power, Their Downfall
Xuanhuan Elara Vance believed her world was solid: a devoted Lumin wife to Damien, and a proud mother to Kaelen, her son whose powerful Tier 7 Aura brought her immense joy.
But that foundation crumbled when, in a horrifying display of ambition, Damien and Kaelen, with chilling indifference, betrayed her, brutally extracting her Lumin Core and leaving her for dead.
She gasped awake, not in the afterlife, but back in opulent Lumin society, at the very Concord Gala where, in her past life, Damien had chosen her as his bride.
This time, however, utter public humiliation awaited as Damien heartlessly announced his choice of her cousin, Selena Vance-a supposed rising Lumina Scion-and dismissed Elara as nothing but "Tier 1 weakness."
The degradation deepened when community patriarch Alistair Thorne, driven by family "pacts," condemned Elara to a forced marriage with Rhys Ashworth, a man suffering from a fatal Aura Drain, a cruel ploy by Damien to ensure her quiet, swift end.
The raw, burning questions of her agonizing death tangled with the fresh pain of public scorn: Why did they crave her demise so deeply, despising her very being as an insurmountable obstacle?
Yet, armed with the vivid nightmares of betrayal and the shocking truth she now held-that Selena' s dazzling Tier 6 Aura was a dangerous lie, fueled by illicit serums-Elara stood firm.
Her seemingly helpless acceptance of the doomed marriage concealed a quiet storm: she carried the forgotten ancestral secrets of her Vance lineage, ancient healing arts like "Aura Weaving."
This forced union, intended as her grave, was now her unlikely battleground, her chance to not only survive but to uncover the insidious rot beneath their community's shining facade and unleash a power they never dreamed she possessed. The Secret Heiress: His Billion-Dollar Mistake
Billionaires My life was perfect.
I was an event coordinator, planning my Maui honeymoon with Ethan, my fiancé of five years.
What he didn't know was I was quietly living like this on purpose, proving myself before revealing I was the heiress to a massive hospitality empire.
Then, my world imploded.
My job termination letter landed on the same day Ethan confessed his boss, Victoria, was pregnant with his baby.
And he admitted he'd orchestrated my firing, claiming it was a "strategic move" for his career and "our" future.
He then kicked me out of our apartment after Victoria, his baby mama, vomited on my shoes right in front of him.
I tried to escape to Maui, our supposed honeymoon destination, only to find them there.
Ethan, unashamed, humiliated me on the beach, accusing me of stalking him.
But it got worse.
Victoria and he decided to make a public spectacle, branding me as an unstable harasser at a company mixer.
Standing there, about to be shamed into silence, I wondered how five years of my life, built on a lie for his sake, could end in such utter public degradation and betrayal.
Was I truly going to lose everything for a man who couldn't see past his ambition and an underhanded boss?
Just as I thought I'd hit rock bottom, the doors swung open.
My billionaire father, Mr. Miller, walked in with Liam, my childhood friend.
And that' s when everything changed. His Arrogance, Her Quiet Revenge
Romance My husband, Ethan Hayes, was a powerful, arrogant man, openly flaunting his mistress, Chloe Vance.
Everyone pitied me, the quiet, obedient wife, living in his shadow.
But they had no idea.
Every humiliation, every cruel dismissal, every moment of neglect was a calculated step in my secret, desperate plan.
I married Ethan for one reason: to have a child.
Not his child, but Caleb's.
Caleb, his identical twin, the man I loved more than life itself, tragically taken too soon.
Ethan was merely a vessel, a living replica of my soulmate.
When that pregnancy test turned positive, my mission was complete.
I filed for divorce, expecting his usual dismissiveness.
He waved me off, telling me to "handle it," too consumed with Chloe's trivial demands.
He even pushed me down the stairs when Chloe falsely accused me, leaving me bleeding, gasping for our baby.
But the final straw came when Chloe, with Ethan' s blessing, shattered a small, invaluable snow globe-Caleb's last, unfulfilled gift to me.
He thought my tears, my quiet "devotion," my carefully curated items were for him.
He never saw the truth, never understood his own arrogance blinded him to the woman he truly possessed.
How could he?
His ego was too vast.
So, when the divorce was finalized, I called him.
"I never loved you, Ethan," I told him, each word a shard of ice.
"You were just a means to an end.
The child I carry is Caleb's legacy, not yours."
I walked away, leaving him and his empty world behind, to start anew in San Francisco, with Caleb's child, and finally, my own freedom. Stolen Identity, Stolen Fortune
Young Adult My life was perfectly on track. I was Ashley, the daughter of Katherine, heir to the "Katherine's Kitchen" bakery empire, and I was about to ace my SATs and get into my dream Ivy League school. Everything was normal.
Until Spirit Week. A viral video exploded through the school, showing my foster sister, Brittany, tear-streaked, claiming our mother had stolen her.
That I was the imposter, the switched baby, and the entire family fortune was rightfully hers. Her biological mother, Brenda, was right there, nodding grimly.
Suddenly, I was public enemy number one. Whispers followed me, my locker was vandalized, and the bullying became relentless.
My college art project, weeks of work, was smashed. Brittany even faked bruises and got me suspended, shattering my academic future. Then a "leaked" DNA test, clearly fake, confirmed their lies, making even me question everything.
How could my life be stolen by a baseless lie? Why did my own foster sister resent me so deeply, and why would her mother unleash such a venomous campaign? The injustice burned, leaving me reeling, wondering who I even was anymore.
But my mother fought back, proving the first DNA test was fake.
Yet, Brittany's malice didn't die – she tried to drug me. And Brenda, consumed by delusion, escalated to setting fire to my house! I wouldn't run. The battle for my life, my name, and my future had only just begun. And I was going to win. Reborn on the Morning of My Murder
Billionaires Ethan Vanderbilt, heir to a colossal fortune, was set to make the biggest announcement of his life: his engagement at the annual Vanderbilt Legacy Ball. But waking that morning, a tidal wave of *past life* memories crashed over him: his ruthless wife, Chloe Ashton's, affair with Marcus Thorne, her blatant pursuit of his fortune, the chilling truth that her child wasn't his, and the cold steel of the knife she plunged into him.
He remembered the quiet, unwavering love of Olivia Hayes, his guardian, a devotion he callously ignored, leading to her heartbroken death not long after his own murder. The raw fury of betrayal, the agony of his death, and the profound guilt for Olivia's unrequited devotion consumed him. How could he have been so incredibly blind to the viper beside him and the angel who truly cared?
Now, back on the very morning of his original fate, Ethan knew one thing with absolute certainty: this time, he would rewrite his past, dismantle his enemies, and choose the woman who deserved his love—Olivia. The Wife They Underestimated
Modern I used to be Sarah Jensen, a driven investigative journalist, before David’s political ambition consumed my life.
I became the perfect political wife, hosting lavish events and silently managing our home.
My own dreams dwindled, replaced by his towering aspirations.
The façade finally shattered during a bitter confrontation about his blatant affair with Victoria, my own cousin and his Chief of Staff.
In a terrifying moment, my son, Ethan, loyal to his father, physically pushed me.
I hit the cold marble floor, a searing pain blooming in my side.
David, Victoria, and Ethan simply stepped over me, their faces utterly devoid of concern, as they left for a celebratory dinner.
Hours later, at the hospital, I learned the horrifying truth: I’d lost the baby I never knew I was carrying.
This savage act, this callous abandonment by my husband, my son, and my family, left me in a state of icy clarity.
They chose their image and ambition over my life, over our child.
My own parents later dismissed my pain, ready to side with David, even threatening to institutionalize me.
How could the people I sacrificed everything for betray me so absolutely?
But in that raw, profound despair, something forged within me.
Not a collapse, but an unbreakable resolve.
They believed I was fractured, powerless.
They were gravely mistaken.
I harbored years of meticulous records on David’s illicit dealings, a hidden dossier.
He’d taught me the game; now, as a journalist reborn, I would play for keeps, exposing every lie and reclaiming my life. 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. 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. 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. 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?" 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.
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. Dying To Escape The Obsessive Mafia Don
Priority I spent three excruciating years building an underworld empire for Cassius, only for him to give the ultimate symbol of his protection to a fragile girl named Serena on the very day he proposed to me.
My biological brother Julian, my protector Enzo, and my ally Lucian all followed suit, prioritizing Serena's fake tears over my life.
They forced me into a lethal bone marrow extraction to save her. When I welcomed the agony—using it to trigger my system's extraction protocol, my only way home to the real world—they violently aborted the procedure. They accused me of twisted manipulation and locked me in a high-security medical prison. There, they handed my care over to Serena, who tortured me in secret, calibrating my pain to hover just below the medical alarms.
"You will live," she whispered, "so that you may watch them choose me—until the act itself becomes a prayer."
I didn't understand. Why was my physical agony never enough to make them stop, yet a single tear from Serena became their absolute law? Why wouldn't they just let me die so I could go home?
Then I saw my real brother Arthur, exhausted by my hospital bed, through the system feed—and I realized I couldn't die. Not yet.
I wiped all emotion from my face and calmly signed the papers for their live public reconciliation broadcast.
Before I leave this world for good, I will tear Serena's perfect facade to pieces. 
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