Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

Chapter 3

Word Count: 759 | Released on: 23/04/2026

a's Per

rating table, then looked at me with his greedy eyes. "No cash of a hun

't have a single dollar on me now, I

ding the rest of your life in a federal prison. Tonight, the FBI will raid the underground casino on Eighth Street. T

that had once only played Chopin for the elite of the mafia had now become the most composed wings of salvation. Relying on the first aid skills honed in that dark world in the past,

et utterly fascinated by the monster I had transfor

, I knew clearly what was happening in Chicago, three hundred miles aw

father, known as "The General" Marco Moretti, is bowing to Lorenzo Farcone. To save me from the carefully woven slander of

He casually tosses an antique coin while looking at Dami

the port," Lorenzo probes the new godfather. "In exchange, I declare your marri

st hesitation, coldly replied:

n't reg

family and threw me into the wolves. He discarded us like garbage. But he

dust from the Gary limesto

raw, blood seeping into the rough canvas gloves. I needed clean cash to buy antibiotics for Angel

black Cadillac 凯雷德 cars stopped at

top what I

vily armed Moretti family soldiers. She spent days navigating the dirty streets, bribing bar

eel before me, completely unconcerned about the mud staining her spotless dress. "Oh

the bleeding palm with a dirty cloth carelessly. My eyes were like

y were a whole week late. By the time they arrived, they

figure as I looked toward the armored vehicles waiting to take us

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.”