Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns

Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns

Beatrice Wells

4.0
Comment(s)
1.3K
View
10
Chapters

To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat. While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa. He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture. The breaking point came the night I went into labor. Dante didn't hold my hand. He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room. So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost. I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie. When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name. He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone. He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife-I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe. It took him three years to find me again. He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son. "I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything." I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army. "You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly. "If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war."

Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 1

To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat.

While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa.

He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture.

The breaking point came the night I went into labor.

Dante didn't hold my hand.

He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room.

So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost.

I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie.

When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name.

He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone.

He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife-I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe.

It took him three years to find me again.

He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son.

"I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything."

I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army.

"You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly.

"If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war."

Chapter 1

Elena POV

I stared at the document that reduced my life to a bargaining chip for a shipping route, and realized something terrifying: if I didn't rewrite the terms of my surrender before my husband finished his coffee, the child growing inside me would inherit a cage instead of a father.

My hand rested on my stomach.

Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Rossi estate, but it brought no warmth.

Nothing in this house was warm.

It was all marble, cold steel, and the suffocating weight of history.

I felt a flutter deep inside me.

A tiny, secret kick.

It was the only thing that felt real in a world built on lies and gunpowder.

"Elena."

The voice came from the doorway.

It was Mario, Dante's personal attendant. He held a silver tray with the morning correspondence, but his gaze was fixed strictly on the Persian rug, as if looking at me would be an act of treason.

"The Don requested you review these before breakfast," Mario said.

I took the thick folder. The leather was cool against my skin.

I opened it.

It was a draft for a new alliance with the Genovese family. My name was highlighted in several clauses.

*Elena Rossi, the bridge.*

*Elena Rossi, the guarantee.*

To them, I wasn't a person. I was a treaty with a heartbeat.

I walked to the window and looked out at the sprawling grounds. High walls encircled us. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter. Those iron gates were meant to keep enemies out, but they did a much better job of keeping me in.

I needed to go downstairs.

I needed to play the part.

I dressed in a silk blouse that hid the slight curve of my waist and descended the grand staircase.

The dining room smelled of espresso and something else. Something floral and cloying.

*Her.*

Vanessa sat at the table, her chair pulled uncomfortably close to the head of the board.

She was wearing black. It was a performative mourning for Dante's late brother, Marco. But the dress was too tight, the neckline plunging low enough to invite a scandal.

"Good morning, Elena," Vanessa said.

Her voice was brittle, like glass about to break.

She picked up the silver pitcher and poured milk into Dante's coffee. Her fingers brushed against his hand.

It wasn't accidental. It was a claim.

The scent hit me then-Dante's sandalwood cologne mixed with Vanessa's rose perfume. It was a nauseating blend that coated the inside of my throat.

Dante didn't pull away. He looked at her with a softness that he had never shown me in two years of marriage.

"Thank you," he murmured.

I stood by my chair, gripping the back of it until my knuckles turned white. I was the wife. I was the one carrying his heir. But looking at them, I felt like an intruder in my own life.

I sat down.

"Dante," I said.

He didn't look up from his tablet.

"I was looking at the charity gala plans," I continued, keeping my voice steady. "I'd like to take lead on the organization this year. I have some ideas about-"

"Vanessa will handle it," Dante said.

He turned a page on his screen. He didn't even blink.

"But I-"

"Vanessa knows the families better," he cut in. "She handled it when Marco was alive. It gives her comfort."

Vanessa smiled. It was a sad, brave little smile that made me want to scream.

"You really shouldn't stress yourself, Elena," she said softly. "You look so pale. You should rest. Leave the heavy lifting to family."

*Family.*

The word hung in the air like a threat.

She was the widow of a brother. I was the wife of the Don. Yet she was the one inside the circle, and I was the one looking in.

My fingernails dug into my palms under the table. The pain was sharp, grounding.

Dante pushed a file aside. It was a financial report regarding inheritance lines.

He wasn't reading it. He was watching Vanessa butter a piece of toast, his eyes tracking the movement of her hands. He looked at her like she was something precious that might shatter. He looked through me like I was made of glass.

I took a deep breath. I forced the tremor in my hands to stop.

*Not yet,* I told myself. *Not today.*

I remembered the first time I had seen Dante.

He had walked into my father's office like he owned the oxygen in the room. He had been dangerous. He had been beautiful in a way that promised ruin.

I had fallen for the myth of him. I had thought I could be the one to tame the beast. I had thought the way he looked at me with possessive hunger was love.

It wasn't love.

It was just appetite.

"Dante," I tried one last time. "The alliance papers. There are clauses about my dowry assets that need clarification."

"Handle it with the lawyers," he said, standing up.

He offered his hand to Vanessa.

"Come," he said to her. "I need your opinion on the shipment from Sicily."

They walked out together.

He didn't look back.

I sat alone in the massive, silent dining room. My hand went back to my stomach.

"He will sacrifice us," I whispered to the empty room. "For the family. For her."

I stood up.

I wasn't going to the lawyers.

I walked back upstairs to my study and took the red pen from my desk.

I opened the alliance document.

I found the clause regarding the *heirs of the body*.

I crossed it out.

Then I turned to the asset distribution page.

I slashed through *Joint Custody*.

I slashed through *Rossi Estate*.

The ink bled into the paper as I wrote in the margins, in clear, block letters:

SOLE PROPERTY OF ELENA ROSSI.

I wasn't a canary in a cage anymore.

I was a mother preparing for war.

Continue Reading

Other books by Beatrice Wells

More
The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge

The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge

Modern

5.0

My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call. While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora. The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her. Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress. I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me. They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.

You'll also like

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

Qing Shui
4.3

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda
4.5

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns Rising From Ash: The Mafia Queen Returns Beatrice Wells Romance
“To my husband, I was just a political bridge, a treaty with a heartbeat. While I sat alone in our cold estate, hiding the child growing inside me, Dante spent his days comforting his late brother's wife, Vanessa. He treated her like porcelain and me like furniture. The breaking point came the night I went into labor. Dante didn't hold my hand. He ran out of the clinic to comfort Vanessa over a fake emergency, leaving me and his unborn heir alone in the cold sterile room. So, I decided to give him exactly what he deserved: a ghost. I staged my death in the storm, leaving behind nothing but signed divorce papers and a tiny, mud-stained onesie. When Dante returned, he was told I died screaming his name. He spent months digging through the wreckage of the lighthouse with his bare hands, sobbing into the mud, finally realizing he had sacrificed his diamond for a stone. He discovered too late that I wasn't just a submissive wife-I was the secret daughter of Don Stefano, the most dangerous man in Europe. It took him three years to find me again. He fell to his knees at my feet, covered in grime, begging to meet his son. "I will fix this," he wept. "I will give you everything." I looked down at him from the steps of my private jet, flanked by my own army. "You can't fix what you broke, Dante," I said coldly. "If you ever come near my son again, I won't send a lawyer. I will send a war."”
1

Chapter 1

15/12/2025

2

Chapter 2

15/12/2025

3

Chapter 3

15/12/2025

4

Chapter 4

15/12/2025

5

Chapter 5

15/12/2025

6

Chapter 6

15/12/2025

7

Chapter 7

15/12/2025

8

Chapter 8

15/12/2025

9

Chapter 9

15/12/2025

10

Chapter 10

15/12/2025