I Married The Villain To Destroy You

I Married The Villain To Destroy You

Celine Egan

5.0
Comment(s)
978
View
23
Chapters

I stared at the two faint pink lines on the stick, the miracle I had bled for over three years. I was finally pregnant. Then, my phone buzzed with a video message from an unknown number. It was my husband, Marco. He wasn't at a business meeting. He was at a club, his hand up the skirt of a woman named Sienna. "She is barren. She is useless," Marco laughed on the screen, promising his mistress the world if she gave him a son. He was stealing millions from my company to fund her life, while I played the perfect, submissive wife. But the betrayal didn't stop at infidelity. At the family gala, his grandmother publicly humiliated me by pinning the family heirloom on Sienna's fake baby bump, crowning her the new matriarch. When I confronted them at the race track, Sienna pushed me down a flight of concrete stairs. As I lay on the asphalt, bleeding and losing the very child Marco had desperately prayed for, he didn't help me. He spat on me. "You crazy bitch," he snarled, checking on his mistress while his real son died inside me. He didn't know he had just killed his own heir. And he didn't know that the man stepping out of the shadows to pick me up wasn't a paramedic. It was Dante Moretti, the most dangerous Capo in New York and Marco's sworn enemy. I looked at Marco one last time. "Our marriage is dead." I took the enemy's hand. Marco wanted a war? I was about to burn his entire world to the ground.

Chapter 1

I stared at the two faint pink lines on the stick, the miracle I had bled for over three years.

I was finally pregnant.

Then, my phone buzzed with a video message from an unknown number.

It was my husband, Marco.

He wasn't at a business meeting. He was at a club, his hand up the skirt of a woman named Sienna.

"She is barren. She is useless," Marco laughed on the screen, promising his mistress the world if she gave him a son.

He was stealing millions from my company to fund her life, while I played the perfect, submissive wife.

But the betrayal didn't stop at infidelity.

At the family gala, his grandmother publicly humiliated me by pinning the family heirloom on Sienna's fake baby bump, crowning her the new matriarch.

When I confronted them at the race track, Sienna pushed me down a flight of concrete stairs.

As I lay on the asphalt, bleeding and losing the very child Marco had desperately prayed for, he didn't help me.

He spat on me.

"You crazy bitch," he snarled, checking on his mistress while his real son died inside me.

He didn't know he had just killed his own heir.

And he didn't know that the man stepping out of the shadows to pick me up wasn't a paramedic.

It was Dante Moretti, the most dangerous Capo in New York and Marco's sworn enemy.

I looked at Marco one last time.

"Our marriage is dead."

I took the enemy's hand. Marco wanted a war? I was about to burn his entire world to the ground.

Chapter 1

I stared down at the two faint pink lines, the fragile promise of a future I had literally and figuratively bled for.

Then, my phone buzzed against the cold marble counter, delivering a video of my husband destroying it all.

For three years, I had endured the invasive needles, the humiliation of cold stirrups, and the pitying, vulture-like stares of the Vitiello family matriarchs.

I had done it all to secure my place as the perfect wife to Marco Vitiello.

I sat on the edge of the marble tub, the plastic stick trembling in my hand.

This was it.

An heir.

The one thing that would finally stop Marco from looking at me with that suffocating mixture of disappointment and resentment.

My phone buzzed again.

I reached for it, expecting a message from my sister-in-law, Chiara.

Instead, an unknown number had sent a video file.

I pressed play.

The sound of thumping bass and clinking glass shattered the silence of my pristine bathroom.

The footage was shaky, evidently filmed from a hidden angle in a VIP booth.

There was Marco.

My husband.

The man who had kissed my forehead this morning and told me he had a late meeting with the Commission.

He wasn't in a meeting.

He was buried in the neck of a woman with cheap blonde extensions, his hand fisting the fabric of her skirt, hiking it up her thigh for everyone in the club to see.

I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving me dizzy.

It wasn't just the infidelity.

In our world, men stepped out.

It was the rule.

But the rule also demanded discretion.

Omerta.

Silence.

Respect for the wife who laundered his money and kept his image clean.

Marco laughed on screen-a sloppy, wet sound that turned my stomach.

He grabbed the woman's face.

"I promise you, Sienna," he slurred, his voice loud enough for the microphone to catch every jagged syllable. "You give me a son, and I will give you the world. She is barren. She is useless."

Useless.

The word echoed around the bathroom, bouncing off the imported tiles I had paid for with the profits from my green energy firm.

I looked down at the pregnancy test in my left hand.

I wasn't barren.

But looking at him, watching him betray fifteen years of loyalty for a promise of fertility from a bottle-blonde stranger, I felt something inside me snap.

It was a quiet sound.

Like a dry twig snapping in a dead, winter forest.

The front door of the penthouse slammed open downstairs.

I heard his heavy, uneven footsteps on the stairs.

He was home.

I dropped the test into the trash can and covered it with a tissue.

He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve this child.

Marco stumbled into the bedroom, the door hitting the wall with a crack.

He reeked of stale whiskey and the cloying sweetness of cheap vanilla perfume.

"Elara," he grunted, loosening his tie.

He looked at me, sitting on the edge of the bed, and scowled.

"Why are you still awake? Nonna expects us at the brunch tomorrow. You look tired. Fix your face before morning."

He didn't even attempt to hide the smear of lipstick on his collar.

He collapsed onto the bed, face down, shoes still on the silk duvet.

He was snoring within seconds.

I stood up.

My legs felt steady.

Steadier than they had in years.

I picked up my phone again.

A new message had appeared below the video.

It wasn't from the unknown number.

It was from a contact I had saved under 'Do Not Answer'.

Dante Moretti.

The Capo of the rival outfit.

The man who controlled half the city's ports and had a reputation for skinning traitors alive.

The most dangerous man in New York.

He was the enemy I was supposed to hate, the monster Marco tried to emulate but failed to understand.

I opened the message.

"He is with my pawn. We need to talk."

Continue Reading

Other books by Celine Egan

More
Too Late For Sorry

Too Late For Sorry

Romance

5.0

The news broke on a Tuesday. Olivia Reynolds, a celebrated artist, found herself targeted by a major art blog accusing her of blatant plagiarism. Her acclaimed piece, "Urban Echo," was displayed side-by-side with similar works by an unknown European artist, igniting a war zone of online comments declaring her a "Fraud" and calling to "Cancel her." Her boyfriend, Ethan Miller, a respected art critic, didn't defend her. Instead, he confessed to orchestrating the whole thing to protect his protégé, Chloe Davis, claiming Chloe had made a "youthful mistake." He dismissed Olivia's pain as "dramatic" and a "performance," highlighting her struggle with depression as mere "attention." The betrayal only deepened when her gallery terminated its representation, cancelling all her shows. Chloe, feigning empathy, then explicitly told Olivia that Ethan had chosen her because her career was "more important," rubbing salt in the wound until Olivia shattered a glass in a fit of despair, cutting her hand. Ethan, without a glance at Olivia's injury, sided with Chloe, who accused Olivia of attacking her. Ethan and Chloe were seen making their official debut at a gala, dancing on Olivia's professional grave. A text message then arrived, "You should kill yourself, you thieving bitch," accompanied by a photo of her with a gun pointed at her head. Standing on her balcony, teetering on the edge, Olivia made one last desperate call to Ethan. "I'm on the ledge, Ethan," she whispered. But he laughed, dismissing her plea as a bid for "attention." The line went dead as Chloe's laughter echoed in the background. With nowhere else to turn, Olivia stepped into the void.

Love's End, Betrayal's Sting

Love's End, Betrayal's Sting

Sci-fi

5.0

My husband, Mark, told me he was reborn. In the ruins of San Francisco, he promised me a safe harbor, built on the back of his miraculous "system." I, a scientist who dealt in facts, chose to believe in him, in us. That trust was my first mistake. A week later, our penthouse was breached. Mutated creatures swarmed. Trapped in my lab, being torn apart, I cried out the emergency phrase Mark had taught me: "Celeste' s Melody." A synthetic voice echoed in my head, asking, "Host, what did Luna ever do to you? How could you trade her to those sharks?" Then Mark' s voice, cold and flat, confirmed it all: "No choice. Celeste is fragile...Luna is my co-founder, I can' t do anything about it. Celeste has suffered enough. After this, my stock options will be enough, and I' ll find a way to compensate Luna." He had orchestrated my demise. My husband, the man I loved, sacrificed me to monsters to protect his manipulative protégée, Celeste. For "stock options." The pain of betrayal was worse than any wound. But it wasn' t just physical agony. As I lay dying, the system revealed Mark was watching, monitoring my forced torture for 72 hours. He had a timer on my agony. My life, my work, the cure I' d perfected-all disposable in his cruel game. And worst of all, I was pregnant. Our child, Lily, would never be born. I wouldn' t let them win. With my last breath, I found a flare gun and my audio recorder. I would ensure the truth survived, even if I didn' t.

You'll also like

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda
5.0

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