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The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Mafia Boss

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 352    |    Released on: Today at 20:33

etta

gged me into the main l

d against his chest, her posture a study in delicate sorrow. Her eyes were red. She was cr

er voice a fragile whisper that threatened to break with a guilt she did not feel. She whispered that Bianca

distant safehouse across the frost-covered grounds. He was waiting for my mother to storm in a

. The muscles in his neck strained against the starched linen of his collar

to the safehouse. He wanted to freeze my mot

umb as I opened my wooden drawer and dug out my mother's copy of the mafia marriage certificate. I tore the he

Gabriel could not erase her. He could rage and scream and tear the house apart, but he could not

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The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Mafia Boss
The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Mafia Boss
“For five long years, I hid the truth about my mother in our basement, pretending she was just locked in the safehouse. My father, a ruthless mafia Capo, thought she was just throwing a bitter tantrum. To protect his mistress's illegitimate daughter, he decided to marry me off as collateral to a rival cartel. When I refused, the mistress framed me, crying that my mother and I were doing dark magic in the basement to curse her unborn twins. My father flew into a blind rage. "Strip her and give her fifty lashes in the snow. Let's see how long her mother can hold out!" He ordered his men to beat me with a salt-soaked leather whip. I was twelve years old. My skin was shredded, my fever spiked to 104 degrees, and I was pronounced dead before the cartel's convoy even reached the hospital. Until my last breath, my father kept staring at the safehouse door, waiting for my mother to come out and save me. He didn't know the woman he was trying to punish had been forced to drink poison by his precious mistress five years ago. He didn't know I had endured his brutal abuse just to guard my mother's secret. What he never imagined was that my mother didn't die that night. She escaped. She rebuilt herself from nothing. And while my father was still screaming at a ghost, she had already conquered an empire of her own. When I opened my eyes again, the biting winter cold was gone. I was lying in a warm bed, bandaged and alive. And standing right in front of me, wearing a sharp suit and ruling the city's underworld as a Mafia Queen, was my mother.”