The Cost of a Crown: A Mafia Princess's Ruin

The Cost of a Crown: A Mafia Princess's Ruin

Gavin

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My life as a mafia princess ended the day Dante Moretti, the new Don, killed my family and seized our home. Now, I was a prisoner, a humiliated servant scrubbing floors in what was once my mansion, enduring his cruel torment day and night. He swore my family had destroyed his, and his vengeance was absolute. Then came the impossible truth: I was pregnant with his child. A tiny, secret hope, a fragile reason to endure, began to bloom in my heart. But Dante, spurred by his calculating fiancée, brutally forced me to abort our baby. He then coldly orchestrated the public murder of my last remaining family-my beloved mother. My entire world shattered in that moment. That final act of cruelty extinguished every flicker of hope, leaving nothing but cold, dead ash. My will to live evaporated, replaced by a quiet resolve to end my suffering. I prepared my escape, a hidden bottle of pills my one solace, planning to simply fade away. How could one man inflict such unimaginable pain, destroying everything I held dear, yet haunt my every thought with a past love I tried desperately to bury? Why, in his eyes, did I see both pure hatred and a possessive darkness that called to something deep within me? Was there truly no undoing the generational cycle of violence he relentlessly pursued? On the night he paraded me as a broken trophy before his capos, my family's remaining loyalists stormed the ballroom to kill him. As a blade lunged for his heart, an instinct, a forgotten echo of a life I thought was gone, made me throw myself in front of him. But as I shielded the man who utterly ruined me, the poison I had taken hours earlier began its final, irreversible work.

Introduction

My life as a mafia princess ended the day Dante Moretti, the new Don, killed my family and seized our home.

Now, I was a prisoner, a humiliated servant scrubbing floors in what was once my mansion, enduring his cruel torment day and night.

He swore my family had destroyed his, and his vengeance was absolute.

Then came the impossible truth: I was pregnant with his child.

A tiny, secret hope, a fragile reason to endure, began to bloom in my heart.

But Dante, spurred by his calculating fiancée, brutally forced me to abort our baby.

He then coldly orchestrated the public murder of my last remaining family-my beloved mother.

My entire world shattered in that moment.

That final act of cruelty extinguished every flicker of hope, leaving nothing but cold, dead ash.

My will to live evaporated, replaced by a quiet resolve to end my suffering.

I prepared my escape, a hidden bottle of pills my one solace, planning to simply fade away.

How could one man inflict such unimaginable pain, destroying everything I held dear, yet haunt my every thought with a past love I tried desperately to bury?

Why, in his eyes, did I see both pure hatred and a possessive darkness that called to something deep within me?

Was there truly no undoing the generational cycle of violence he relentlessly pursued?

On the night he paraded me as a broken trophy before his capos, my family's remaining loyalists stormed the ballroom to kill him.

As a blade lunged for his heart, an instinct, a forgotten echo of a life I thought was gone, made me throw myself in front of him.

But as I shielded the man who utterly ruined me, the poison I had taken hours earlier began its final, irreversible work.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

5.0

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.

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