His Betrayal, My Revenge: A Mafia Romance
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.
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Chapter 2
Alessia POV:
Santino walked in just as Valentina's fingers fumbled with the top button of his shirt. His eyes, dark and stormy, landed on me.
"What the hell are you doing, Alessia?"he snarled.
"I'm restoring a little dignity to this house,"I said, not taking my eyes off Valentina's panicked face.
"You're harassing a pregnant, grieving woman. You're destroying our family's unity."His voice was low, a dangerous growl that once would have made me shrink. Now, it just fueled the ice in my veins.
He stepped between us, putting a protective hand on Valentina's shoulder. "She's carrying Marco's child. It's my duty to care for her. You need to understand that. You need to show some compassion.”
The hypocrisy was so thick I could taste it. Duty. He talked of duty while he disrespected our vows, our family bond, right in front of me.
"I understand perfectly,"I said, my voice sharp. "You've made your priorities clear. So I'll make mine clear, too. I want an annulment.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and shocking. In our world, marriage was a sacrament, a binding contract between families. Annulment was a declaration of war.
Santino's face went rigid. For a second, I thought he might actually see the abyss that had opened between us.
Then he scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. You're emotional."He waved a dismissive hand. "You want a new car? I'll buy you a new car. You want another house? Pick one.”
He thought he could buy my silence, my compliance. He had no idea who he was dealing with anymore. He was still talking to the ghost of the girl I used to be.
That's when Valentina started her performance. A single tear tracked down her cheek. Her bottom lip trembled. "Oh, Santino,"she whispered, her voice choked with manufactured sorrow. "This is all my fault. I've come between you. I should just go…”
It was a masterstroke of manipulation, and Santino fell for it completely.
"No,"he said, his voice instantly softening as he turned his full attention to her. He pulled her into a gentle hug. "You're not going anywhere. Don't listen to her. She's just upset.”
He glared at me over Valentina's head, his eyes filled with accusation. He was protecting his liaison partner from his wife.
My anger, cold and precise, found its voice. "You stand there and comfort her after you spent last night massaging her feet in my kitchen?"The words were quiet, but they hit him like a physical blow.
Valentina, sensing his resolve wavering, upped the ante. Her quiet tears turned into shuddering sobs. "I can't stay here,"she cried into his chest. "I can't be the reason your marriage falls apart. I'll go. I'll raise the baby alone…”
It was the perfect move. The threat of leaving, of taking the last piece of his dead brother away, cemented his misplaced sense of protection.
He held her tighter, completely ignoring the fact that I was still in the room. He ignored the pain etched on my face, the finality in my voice.
"This is your safe harbor, Valentina,"he murmured to her, his voice a low promise. "This is your home. You will never, ever leave.”
It was the final insult. He had given her my home, my husband, my life.
He didn't even look at me. He just stood there, stroking her hair, whispering comforting words to her. In that moment, I wasn't his wife. I wasn't even there.
And that was the moment Alessia Bianchi, the wife, died. And Alessia Bianchi, the thorned rose ready for her bloody revenge, was fully born.
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7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
9.2
When Alma's father stood in front of the bulldozers to protest, the energy company's thugs beat him half to death in the mud.
Instead of arresting the attackers, the police handcuffed her bleeding father and threw him into a cruiser.
"Stay back, kid," the officer barked, shoving Alma away.
Her father was denied bail and framed for assaulting an officer. The corrupt mayor just smiled and told her not to cause a scene. Meanwhile, the company mailed her weeping mother a severance check that barely covered a month of groceries.
Alma was forced to watch her family be completely destroyed by men with money and power.
Kneeling in the cold dirt where her father's blood had spilled, she didn't shed a single tear. The panic in her chest died, replaced by a cold, absolute hatred.
She realized that crying wouldn't do anything. In this world, justice didn't exist for the weak.
Years later, Alma stepped onto a prestigious Ivy League campus, her cheap backpack slung over her shoulder.
She was surrounded by the arrogant children of the very executives who ruined her life.
She lowered her head, hiding her dead eyes, and put on the perfect mask of a timid, helpless charity case.
Undergrad was just a training ground, and these elite kids were just her practice dummies. The hunt was officially on.
8.0
For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world.
But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle.
The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch.
When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son.
"Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing.
And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down.
I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile.
The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe.
It was time to resurrect my true identity—the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground.
9.3
A pitiful wolfless Omega, Lana discovers that she is pregnant for her beloved fiancée and Alpha to be, Asher. He is the only man she has ever loved, but her world turns upside down when her Fiancée coldly reveals that he is getting married to her sister who is also already pregnant for him.
To make matters worse, her cruel sister and cheating Fiancé banish her from her only home!
Lana is devastated, but thankfully, her best friend Jasper, helps her runaway and hide her pregnancy from her former fiancée.
8 years later, Lana has become the mother to Asher's triplets and is engaged to be married to her best friend Jasper.
But by a cruel twist of fate, Alpha Asher suddenly changes his mind and kidnaps her!
So what is Lana supposed to do when she forced to choose between two powerful men, while also fighting off the traitors and enemies surrounding her?
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.
9.7
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."