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Reborn: The Mafia Bride's Fiery Revenge

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 671    |    Released on: 11/05/2026

ella

York blizzard. I was eighteen again. The biting wind whipped my face as I st

all fingers turning blue. My father, Arturo-a mere Associate accountant-

the howling wind. "My w

nnabel, out in the storm to remind us of our place. Thirty agonizing minutes passed before the heavy gates finally groaned open. My father's jaw was clenched in silent humiliation, but he sw

t armchair like a queen on a throne, her ruby-encrusted cane resting against her knee. She was busy fawning over her legitimate g

the snow, but I saw the immediate flash o

s of cheap seduction. Mark my words, she'll spread her legs for some rival street thug an

hands trembling. "Mother, ple

"You have no right to speak in this room, Annabel. You carry the di

y!" Abby cried out, he

plush seat. "Shut your

t do you expect from an Associate's litter?" Bette mocked, her Botox-stiffened face twisting into an ugly smirk. "Arturo is

ates vanished. I pulled Abby behind me, my posture straightening. I didn't

through the tension. "I was under the impression tha

caught off guar

here. Yet you, a wife married into this family, take it upon yourself to lecture Hobbs blood be

had aimed straight for Hertha's

tory glare toward her daughter-in-law. "Know your place, Bette," H

h opening and closing like a suffocating fis

tha, I found the Matriarch studying me. The disgust in her ey

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Reborn: The Mafia Bride's Fiery Revenge
Reborn: The Mafia Bride's Fiery Revenge
“I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez. On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight. But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next. Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup. He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet. Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated. For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe. Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow. "Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago." My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder. Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre. I thought the fire was the end. But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter. I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began. This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.”