Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

Chapter 3

Word Count: 698 | Released on: Today at 10:16

ella

table, then his cynical eyes flicked back to me. "I don

ngle dollar to my name, but I poss

u out of a federal penitentiary. Tomorrow night, the FBI is raiding the underground casino on 8th Street. The

e impossible weight of my knowledge, I snatched a butcher blade from his

anded the mountain

en my son's ribs. I inserted the needle. A hiss of trapped air and fluid followed. Angelo's tiny chest

ascinated by the monster I had become. "Y

I knew exactly what was transpiring three hundred miles away in Chicago.

co 'The General' Moretti, was bowing to Lorenzo 'Enzo' Falcone. To save me from a fabricated insult orchestrated

e as he casually flipped an antique coin, looking at Da

"* Lorenzo would say, testing the new Don. *"In exchange, I decree your uni

e of hesitation, would reply, *"M

n't regr

eve

ossing me to the wolves. He had discarded us like garbage. But he didn

dust of the Gary limeston

orn open, bleeding into the rough canvas gloves. I needed clean cash for Angelo's antib

et of black Cadillac Escalades pulled

t stop

med Moretti Soldiers. She had spent days tracking me through the grimy streets, bribing ba

rt, falling to her knees before me, uncaring of the mud ruining her pristine

wrapping a dirty rag around my bleeding palm. My gaze

, they had arrived exactly one week later. They had ar

ast her weeping form to the armored cars waiting to

Chapter End

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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.”