Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

Chapter 2

Word Count: 692 | Released on: Today at 10:16

ella

on my tongue, a vow made to a corpse

agged gasp. I blinked, my vision blurring. The hellish red neon light filtering through the window was exactly the same,

s brea

n the shadows, clawing my way through the underworld to destroy Damien Valenti, only to

lly settle, the flimsy mo

teeth, stepped in, followed by a hulking th

und my neck-the only thing of value I had left. I flinched, and Angelo let

grunted, stepping forward a

obbing helplessly as that blow accel

ers, surged through my veins. As the manager yanked the gold chain, I didn't pull back. I drove my elbow directly into his throat with

ngelo into my arms and bolted

olving locked into place. I knew Damien's empire would expand, and I knew exactly where its structural flaws were. I knew that my exile wasn't just Da

y secrets. But vengeance could wait.

en the heavy metal door of an o

e back of my throat. Dr. Rossi, a disgraced surgeon who patched up mobsters for exorbitant fees, looked up fr

sweeping over my soaked, ruined clothes and

reached for

rip on Angelo and met Rossi's eyes with the dead, cold st

espiratory Distress Syndrome. His lungs are filling with fluid. You need to perform an immediate thoracentesi

The Associate paused, his

tage, yet speaking with the absolute, chilling authority of a trauma surgeon. Curiosity

nd gestured to the metal table. "Put the b

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Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

Li Xiamo Mafia

“I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago. But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime. "Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore." That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash. Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me. Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia. I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live. But my little boy died in my arms. Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood. The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest. I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation. Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room. Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing. This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.”