His Heartless Betrayal: My Escape from the Mafia

Betrayed Wife: Saved By The Mafia King

I was sitting in the obstetrics clinic, rubbing my four-month bump, when a livestream popped up on my phone. It was my husband, Xander, exchanging vows with my illegitimate half-sister, Rissa. The caption read: "The Commission never ratified your marriage. You're just the incubator." My husband and my father had sworn they were at a critical mafia sit-down. But there they were on the screen, laughing. I called Xander. He answered, thinking he was slick, but he forgot to mute the room. "Two more years of acting like a saint," I heard him sneer to his men. "Fucking her is a chore. But she's worth fifty million in clean assets." My marriage was void. My child was considered a bastard by the Mafia code. When I confronted them later at the gala, Rissa threw herself to the ground, screaming that I attacked her. Xander shoved me. Hard. I hit the table, and as blood trickled down my legs, he didn't even look at me. He scooped Rissa up and stepped over my bleeding body like I was trash. They froze my accounts. They hunted me down to a cheap motel, planning to kill me once I signed over the trust fund. I was cornered by a mob in a dirty clinic, waiting for the final blow. But it never came. A hand caught the metal chair mid-air. Killian Qiro, the most dangerous man in Chicago, stood over me. "Who dares?" he growled, his eyes dark with lethal promise. "Who dares call a Qiro child a bastard?" He picked me up from the dirt. "Xander is a dead man walking," he whispered against my hair. "He just doesn't know it yet."

Billionaire Heiress's Humiliation: A Brother's Fury

My fiancé' s mistress hacked off my hair in the middle of Van Cleef & Arpels while he laughed on the phone. He told her to "teach the stalker a lesson," having no idea the woman in the hoodie was actually the billionaire heiress he was arranged to marry. Ten minutes later, my brother' s private army shut down Fifth Avenue, and I picked up the scissors to return the favor. I had spent a year doing humanitarian work in war zones, so I arrived at the jewelry store in jeans and a worn hoodie to collect my custom engagement tiara. Glennie Kramer, a supermodel and Ashton' s "true love," sneered at my appearance and claimed the diamonds for herself. When I tried to stop her, she grabbed gift-wrapping scissors and violently severed my waist-length hair while the staff watched in terror. Desperate, I called Ashton, but he mocked me as a "pauper" and authorized security to hold me down while Glennie finished the job. They smashed my phone, thinking I was helpless. But the call hadn't disconnected before my brother, Ason Kane, heard everything. The King of Wall Street arrived with a fleet of armored SUVs and a rage that froze the room. Ashton collapsed when he realized he had just assaulted the sister of the most powerful man in New York. I walked over to the trembling supermodel, the scissors cold in my hand. "You said a nobody doesn't deserve beautiful hair," I whispered. I didn't just ruin their looks; I sent them to the Black Cell and erased their existence from high society forever.

He Chose Them, I Lost Everything

My husband Dorian and I clawed our way out of the foster system together, building a software empire from scratch. He was my hero, the man who swore he' d always protect me. But he became obsessed with "saving" a manipulative single mother, draining our accounts and our marriage. I thought the baby I was secretly carrying could be the bridge to bring him back to me. Then, at my first prenatal appointment, her son attacked me. He rammed his head into my stomach, and a universe of pain exploded inside me as I collapsed, bleeding on the cold hospital floor. I begged Dorian for help. He looked from my pale face to the wailing child, and made his choice. "You need to get a grip," he said coldly, scooping the boy into his arms and walking away, leaving me to lose our child alone. He let our first baby die, and now our second. His love was a lie. So I sent him a final gift to remember me by-the divorce papers, and a small jar containing the body of the son he abandoned.

No Mercy for the Merciless

My volunteer work was simple, a quiet act of kindness. For two years, I drove underprivileged students to their SATs, finding genuine joy in helping. Then my phone buzzed, and a sharp, high-pitched voice introduced me to Tiffany. She wasn't just demanding a ride; she was demanding a luxury SUV for five, not three, and a perfectly pristine car. "Make sure your car is clean. We don' t want to show up to the most important exam of our lives covered in dog hair or smelling like old takeout." Her voice dripped with an entitlement that left me breathless, and I knew this was different. I brushed aside the unease, telling myself it was just one difficult person. But from the moment they sauntered out, laughing, holding expensive coffees, the verbal jabs began, culminating in Tiffany grabbing my steering wheel on the highway. The car swerved violently. A truck narrowly missed us. "What is wrong with you? You could have killed us!" I yelled, my body shaking with rage. "Me? You' re the one who can' t drive! You almost got us killed!" she shrieked back, her eyes wide with indignation, not remorse. To my horror, Jessica, one of the others, nodded in agreement with Tiffany's outrageous lie. The unfairness of it all made me sick. My good deed had been twisted into an obligation, and I was being made the villain. My husband' s calm voice echoed in my head: "Don't give them a single thing they can use against you. Be polite, be professional…" I decided I would be a robot. A chauffeur. No emotion, just function. I would finish this, and then wash my hands of them forever.

Divorce: The Only Way Out

The launch party for my company was supposed to be the peak of my life' s ambition, but my eyes were glued to the door, waiting for my wife, Olivia. Just last week, she' d finally warmed up to me, hinting at starting a family after three years of a marriage that felt like a contract. Then the doors opened, and Olivia walked in, but she wasn' t alone; beside her, with a possessive hand on her back, was Dr. Marcus Thorne, her former mentor. He was a ghost from her past, and she was smiling at him in a way she never smiled at me. I watched them, trying to convince myself it was nothing, as he leaned in to whisper, and she laughed, an intimacy that screamed of a shared history I was not a part of. Dave, my business partner, clapped me on the shoulder, telling me we were "killing it," but my gaze was fixed on Olivia taking a glass of wine from Marcus, their fingers brushing. It felt like a punch to the stomach, seeing the effortless familiarity he had, everything I' d bled for in three years of trying. The anger and humiliation choked me, until I finally stumbled over to them, my voice hoarse. Marcus turned, looked me up and down, and with a condescending smirk, called me "the boy genius," belittling my entire existence. Then the room tilted, my chest tightened, and the world went black. I woke to the sterile smell of a hospital, Olivia asleep beside me, but the warmth turned to bitter self-mockery as I remembered her denial in front of him. Our marriage had been a transaction from the start-a deathbed promise to my father to "look after me." I was 21, grieving, hopelessly infatuated, and agreed, hoping forced proximity would blossom into love. Three years of trying to earn her affection, culminating in last week' s "validation," now felt like just another concession. A cold resolve settled over me; I couldn' t live as a child she was obligated to care for anymore. I disconnected the IV, and when Olivia stirred, I looked her in the eye and said, "Let's get a divorce." She was pale, shocked, but I had never been more clear; I signed the papers and walked out, leaving everything behind. For two days, I hid in a cheap motel, suffocating the voice that replayed her smiling at Marcus, until there was a loud banging on my door. It was Dave, and behind him, a pale and frantic Olivia, who pushed past him, calling me unthinking and childish. "I'm not a child, Olivia," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Then stop acting like one!" she shot back, as I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and pushed them into her hands. "I'm letting you off the hook. You don't have to keep your promise to my father anymore. You're free." She stared at the papers, her eyes widening with disbelief, then she whispered, "No." And with a sudden, violent movement, she ripped the papers in half, declared she would not divorce me, and threw the shredded pieces at my feet. It was never about me; it was always about the promise.

A Husband's Ultimate Retribution

My life with Victoria, a tech mogul with billions, was a gilded cage. I was her house husband, an artist reduced to chores, all to stay close to Emily, seven, and Josh, five, my children. Her protégé, Liam, a smirking young man with hollow ambition, made every day hell, spilling wine for me to clean, complaining about my cooking, even shrugging when he killed our cat. Victoria saw my suffering and encouraged it. Then came the day that broke the world. Victoria brought Emily and Josh downstairs, both terrified. "Get in the crate," she commanded, pointing to a new dog crate. "And bark." My blood ran cold. "They' re children. You can' t do that," I whispered. But she grabbed them, dragging them towards the door. "If they can' t make it a few days in the urban park downtown, they' re too weak to be my children anyway," she snarled, then sped off, leaving me screaming on the driveway. Three days later, the detective called. They found Emily and Josh, two small bodies under a pile of cardboard, dead from exposure. That same evening, Victoria was at a charity auction, laughing and buying Liam a three-million-dollar car. My grief turned to cold, hard resolve. I walked onto the stage at the auction, holding the two small urns. "I' m not here to bid on a car," I announced. "I' m here to buy two souls." Victoria tried to pull me off the stage. "They' re dead, Victoria," I whispered, louder than any shout. "Emily and Josh. They' re dead." She called me insane, a liar. Liam played the brave protector, faking fear. The public bought their story, condemning me, a pathetic, unhinged husband. But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know about Liam's cruelty, or Victoria's chilling threats to send my children away, a threat that had kept me captive. Now, that threat was tragically meaningless. With nothing left to lose, I set my purpose. I began attending auctions, asking a strange question that would change everything. My family's old money, long ignored, would now become my weapon.

The Heiress' Secret: Ex-Husband, Meet The Real Me

For three years, Deanna endured scorn in a one-sided marriage. When Connor forced her to choose between her career and a divorce, she didn't hesitate-she walked away. Determined to reclaim her birthright, Deanna returned as the brilliant heiress to a medical conglomerate. Her ex and his family begged for another chance, but it was too late. With a tycoon father, a legendary healer mother, a CEO brother who adored her, and a showbiz powerhouse sibling, Deanna's life overflowed with power. Even her arrogant rival, heir to billions, only ever had a soft spot for her.

Reborn And Remade: Pursued By The Billionaire

In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."

Reborn Heiress: The Wolf's Vengeance Deal

I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Scars of Betrayal: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Kelsie's biggest regret in life was getting involved with Judge, the icy Captain. She pursued him for three years, married him for two, thinking she'd warmed a stone, only to be met with nothing. Her mother-in-law disliked her, her husband was indifferent, and a fragile "white moonlight" would occasionally try to get her attention. Until she witnessed Judge and Angelique meeting secretly at a hotel, her heart shattered, and then she discovered she was pregnant. Kelsie sneered, threw down the divorce papers, and decisively ran away, disappearing without a trace. When they met again, she was a successful single mother, surrounded by suitors. In the pouring rain, the once aloof man humbly stopped her car, pleading in a hoarse voice, "Kelsie, come home with me." The car window rolled down, and a little boy, nine-tenths like him, coldly warned in a cute but fierce tone, "Want to date my mommy? Ask me first!"

The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"