Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Betrayed by My Boyfriend, Claimed by the Mafia Boss
Catherine loved Marco with all her heart. Until she discovered that he had betrayed her with her own sister. Instead of defending Catherine, her family blamed her for standing in the way of their happiness. To them, she was nothing more than an unwanted daughter who had ruined the love story between Marco and the sister they had always favored. So Catherine gave them exactly what they wanted. She gave up Marco. She gave up the family that had never truly seen her as one of their own. Just when she thought her life couldn't get any worse, her parents sold her for twenty thousand dollars to an old, ugly man who had already been married once. Catherine thought her life was over. Then a stranger appeared and offered her a way out. His name was Lorenzo. He offered Catherine a contract marriage. He needed a wife. She needed protection. It seemed like a simple arrangement, and Catherine never expected it to change her life forever.Because she didn't know who Lorenzo really was. To the world, Lorenzo was a ruthless billionaire and the heir to one of the country's most powerful business empires. Behind closed doors, he was far more dangerous. He was the heir to a Mafia dynasty, a man who controlled an empire built on blood, fear, and absolute power. When Lorenzo offered Catherine a marriage of convenience, she accepted without hesitation. He needed a wife. She needed protection. Neither of them wanted love. At least, that was what they told themselves. But after Catherine became Mrs. Romano, Lorenzo's rules began to change. He wanted to know where she went, who she spoke to, and which man dared look at her for too long. The more Catherine tried to keep their marriage strictly business, the more possessive Lorenzo became. He no longer wanted a temporary wife. He wanted Catherine completely. Then Marco finally realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life and came back for her. He expected Catherine to still be the woman who waited for him, forgave him, and accepted whatever affection he was willing to offer. But Catherine was no longer that woman. The daughter her family discarded had become the wife of the most dangerous man in the underworld. And Lorenzo Romano would burn the world down before he let anyone take his wife away./1/114593/coverorgin.jpg?v=98e9fc5341036f2b949b750a612cf254&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rejected While Pregnant, I Reclaimed My Power
While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son. Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate. An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir. Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack. Dante didn't even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her. He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall. Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me. I heard him promise her, "Soon, my love. I'll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve." The love I felt for him, the power I'd hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice. He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent. And I was finally going home./1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=97365198d2e42e4794a57a69368cfbf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself./1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=7234b1637f8eea10bd4b1cd4629a74a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Loyalty, A New Beginning Blooms
I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."/1/109600/coverorgin.jpg?v=71ff3e9baa341820fd8f16a1d5b9fc55&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Bastard Bride's Vow of Mafia Vengeance
My father arranged a marriage for my half-sister, Emmalee, with Don Damian Griffith, the ruthless "King of New York." But Emmalee, in love with a penniless lawyer, refused and, weeping, pointed at me, the illegitimate daughter, offering me as the sacrifice. My stepmother packed cheap plastic pearls and copper chains, and my father coldly told me to "bleed quietly" if the Don decided to cut me. "Don't think you've won, Isabell," Emmalee hissed, handing me a shimmering emerald gown, the signature color of the Don's volatile mistress-a clear death trap. Why did my own family want me dead? As the armored car pulled away, I dumped the green silk, put on a dress of pure ivory, and fastened our family's stolen midnight-blue sapphires around my neck. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter, but I was walking into the lion's den with a hidden blade./1/104584/coverorgin.jpg?v=774aab6a6a3be6899d1903e97a92ea52&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shadows of the Vow (You Fuck With Darkness, You See Shadows)
She entered his world as prey. Now, she's learning to bite back. After her mother's death, Annabelle Gracia seeks fragile solace in the flower shop-until her father trades her to Antonioni D'Angélo, the ruthless mafia billionaire known as The Shadow King. Nights with him burn with pain, pleasure, and control. His coldness shields a heart hunted by a dangerous fraternity, one that will not forgive tenderness-love is a risk he cannot afford. Yet desire refuses to be silenced. In their world, love is weakness, and weakness could destroy them both. Antonioni is not just another mafia heir; he is a force who commands the world's shadows. Beyond the empire most will never see: high-stakes deals in European marketplaces, clandestine arms trades, and the quiet power of a man who moves money, influence, and danger across continents. Once fragile, she rises. No longer a pawn, she becomes his fiercest ally and mafia queen, his quiet hope. But betrayal is never far, and enemies wait in the shadows. When Nora, the daughter of one of their deadliest rivals, enters their world, alliances shatter, and danger multiplies. In a world ruled by secrets and scars, can love save them... or destroy them?/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=164013c02dfb792cf8a9a1af73947c2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."/1/116217/coverorgin.jpg?v=e30bb934b613948273613507447508d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mafia Heiress's Ruthless Revenge
I was happily pregnant through IVF, thinking I had finally built a perfect life with my billionaire husband, Dante. Then, an anonymous photo led me to a hidden drawer in his study, where I found a vasectomy confirmation dated a full year before we even started trying for a baby. My world shattered when I went to his office for answers and overheard him talking to his assistant. "This marriage, this child... it's all a sacrifice. I needed the perfect substitute to build up and destroy, just to prove my loyalty to Elara." The painful IVF injections, my precious pregnancy, our entire marriage—it was all a meticulously crafted performance for his childhood sweetheart. He even planned to publicly humiliate me at an upcoming gala as a welcome gift for her return. I wept for the years I had wasted and for my innocent unborn child, conceived merely as a pawn in their sick, twisted game. They thought they could discard me like trash because they believed I was just a helpless orphan with no one to turn to. But they didn't know I had spent the last three years hiding my true identity for the sake of this marriage. Wiping away my tears, I picked up my phone and called my father, the most feared underground king in the world./1/100386/coverorgin.jpg?v=87c9b5906bb82e9d441383d9fe57406b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Capo's Regret: The Curse Was A Lie
For fifteen years, my husband Bennett refused to let me get pregnant. "My blood is a curse, Kelsey," he would say, gripping my hand with terrified intensity. "It kills the women who carry it. I won't risk you." I believed him. I mourned the children we never had just to stay alive for him. Then he brought Aria home. He claimed she was a distant cousin in trouble. But from the shadows of the ballroom, I watched him caress her swollen belly with a tenderness he never showed me. When I confronted him, the mask fell. "You provide the image, Kelsey," he said coldly. "She provides the bloodline. Do not make a scene." To teach me a lesson in obedience, my horse's reins were sabotaged. I woke up in the hospital with a fractured leg, only to learn he had ignored my emergency calls to hold Aria’s hand during a routine ultrasound. Lying in that sterile bed, the truth hit me harder than the fall. There was no curse. He had medically gaslighted me for a decade, stealing my fertility with a lie, just to replace me with a mistress he called "cousin." He thought he had broken me. He thought I would fade quietly into the east wing. Instead, I wiped my tears and planted listening devices in his office. He wanted a legacy? I boarded a train to Paris, leaving behind a bomb that would burn his entire world to ash./0/96394/coverorgin.jpg?v=1c658151d6984acf5a1df9673906504e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mafia Princess: Escaping His Deadly Lie
For three years, a rare liver disease has been killing me. Through it all, my husband Julian has been my rock. Our last hope was a black-market liver, secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva. But from my hospital bed, I overheard him promise that very liver to another woman. It was for his mistress's mother. I soon discovered he had a four-year-old daughter with her. Their family was established; I was just the placeholder. On a hidden security feed, I watched him in my dead parents' penthouse—a sacred place he forbade me from visiting—bouncing their child on his knee. Then he fastened the diamond necklace he'd bought for my birthday around his mistress's neck. The final blow came when I heard her whisper, "Just a little longer... the fever will do the rest." He wasn't just leaving me. He was actively trying to kill me. The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned to a cold, hard stone in my chest. The man whose devotion I never questioned now made my skin crawl with revulsion. The next morning, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I left my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the entryway table, blocked his number, and walked out of our house without looking back./1/125689/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f4faec2c5b98c6c48d72e45c90bc561&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming The Crown From My Ex-Husband
I am Serena Vitiello. My family's bloodline was the shield that allowed my husband, Salvatore, to become an untouchable mafia boss. However, at the national syndicate summit, he actually claimed his power was all thanks to his mistress, Chiara. He even took off my heavy family gold signet ring and slipped it onto her finger. To completely break my spirit, he intentionally forced me to eat a plate of scallops, knowing full well I was allergic. He watched coldly as my throat swelled until I couldn't breathe. When I confronted that mistress at the headquarters, Salvatore actually slapped me hard to the ground in front of my loyal soldiers. What was even more outrageous was that Chiara took a forged ultrasound report, claiming she was pregnant with Salvatore's heir. This shock was too much for my grandfather's heart to bear, ultimately triggering a fatal heart attack. "Let's go, we have another party to attend." Salvatore said to her with a smile, turning away without even glancing at the flatline on my grandfather's heart monitor. He thought I was just a broken, submissive wife who would quietly give up my crown. He naively believed he had built this empire all by himself, forgetting that all these years, I was the one secretly using my family's fortune to cover his millions of dollars in losses. I was the one who bought off those judges to keep his business running for a decade. So, when he slammed the divorce papers on the table, demanding that I transfer all the family's territories to him, I lowered my head and signed. He couldn't wait to snatch the pen and excitedly signed his name on the agreement, completely unaware that he had just legally taken over eighty million dollars of cartel debt. Meanwhile, I had already transferred all the clean money under my name./1/114602/coverorgin.jpg?v=fe3b32a99db1d438ee70d5f3f3f62cfc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them./0/97866/coverorgin.jpg?v=f013275ce4b74d1ffa48ca217e847834&imageMogr2/format/webp)
She Returned: A Mafia Boss’s Nightmare
The man who swore he would burn the world down for me has been married to another woman for three years. I found out the day I was finally discharged from the Swiss clinic he'd sent me to. I flew home to surprise him, only to discover my release was a year overdue. He had forged my medical reports, painting me as a fragile, broken thing just to keep me locked away while he built a new life. His new wife, Isabella, hit me with her car. He defended her, calling me hysterical. She stole my art portfolio and claimed it as her own, and he forced me to take the blame to protect his family's reputation. She even killed her own puppy to frame me. While I jumped into a freezing river to retrieve my father's medallion that she'd thrown in, he stood on the terrace pointing out a meteor shower to her. The final betrayal came when Isabella faked her own kidnapping and named me as the culprit. I didn't understand. This was Dante Moretti, the Devil of the East Coast, my guardian, the man who had sworn to be my shield. Why was he letting this woman destroy me piece by piece? Believing I was the kidnapper, he had me tied to a helicopter, dragged across a field, and left me for dead. But I didn't die. I survived. Five years later, I have a new name, a new life, and a husband who loves me. And today, I just ran into Dante on the street. He looked at me like he'd seen a ghost./1/104523/coverorgin.jpg?v=76fb812335981d8aac82c7be5ebd7d90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo
I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."/1/110133/coverorgin.jpg?v=9142bb3a6808633fa9ccf90bfa9693d1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Capo: Your Wife Is Gone
"Happy Anniversary," my husband said, sliding the separation agreement across the mahogany desk. It was the eighteenth time in five years I had signed these papers. Matteo De Luca, the most ruthless Capo in New York, checked his Rolex with cold impatience. "Sign it, Sera. Bianca is on the ledge again. She needs to see we're over, or she jumps." Bianca. The ward. The broken bird. The woman whose fragile psyche dictated every moment of my marriage. I signed my name, and he left me alone on our anniversary to save her. Again. But saving her wasn't enough. When Bianca pushed me down a flight of marble stairs in a fit of jealous rage, shattering my spine and leaving me paralyzed, I thought Matteo would finally choose me. I was wrong. I woke up in the hospital to find him holding her hand, not mine. "The security footage has been wiped," he told me, his voice void of emotion. "We cannot have a scandal. You fell, Sera. That is the story." He erased the truth. He erased my pain. He protected the woman who crippled me over his own wife. Two months later, he wheeled me into a gala, playing the doting husband while I sat in the chair that was my prison. He didn't know I had a burner phone hidden in my velvet dress. He didn't know that tonight, the obedient wife was going to die on the pavement, and a ghost would rise in her place. I looked at him one last time and dropped the phone in his lap. "I hope she's worth it."/1/102819/coverorgin.jpg?v=a617482dc12f331777919667aac45637&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Rose Rises Anew
He called me his wild rose, the foster kid he rescued from the streets. He built me a gilded cage and told me it was love. Then I saw the text: my best friend, Karis, showing off the engagement ring he' d just given her. I rushed to his office, only to overhear the truth. I was just a "placeholder," a "stray he picked up," a useful toy to keep his family happy while he planned his real future with her. He laughed about how easily he could control me. "A little gaslighting, a few well-placed gifts, and she'll be back where she belongs. Under my thumb." His final act of love? Drugging me and handing me over to a monster, sacrificing me as a "body double" to protect his precious Karis. He thought I was just a broken foster kid with nowhere to go. He thought he could erase me. He was wrong. As the private jet he put me on exploded over the ocean, I was already gone-saved by the powerful family I never knew I had. Now, I'm coming back, and they will pay for every single lie./1/119135/coverorgin.jpg?v=3cfa3eb3f30f5b5b506f943730d74292&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When His Apology Comes Five Years Late
My husband, mafia Don Leo Falcone, detonated the door to my safehouse with forged syndicate papers in hand. He came to force me to take the fall for his mistress, Serena, threatening to cut off my sister Chloe's medical funds if I refused. What he didn't know was that Chloe had already succumbed to her agony three years ago because Serena stole her money. And he didn't know that I had bled out in a dark alley five years before that. He had exiled me to protect Serena, and I was cornered and stabbed thirteen times by the relatives of the rivals his syndicate killed. Suspended near the ceiling as a ghost, I watched him aggressively demand my whereabouts, fully believing I was just throwing a tantrum. "If she does not show up in three days to sign these papers, I will cut off every single dime," he threatened. It wasn't until his Tracker handed him my cremation documents and the gruesome crime scene photos that he finally broke. For five years, he had pampered the true venomous snake while I rotted in the ground, paying for her fatal mistakes with my life. I watched the invincible Don reduced to a sobbing wreck, feeling no pity at all. After personally sending Serena to a federal supermax, Leo returned to our old apartment, swallowed a bottle of pills, and slumped against the wall to die. "This time, I am not looking for anyone else. Just you," he whispered. But as he took his final rattling breath, I simply turned away and left him in the dark forever./0/95223/coverorgin.jpg?v=251641eaf4a6d10c378c6016b89eeee5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Lover Who Became My Killer
The first time I kidnapped my lover's mistress, he had me killed for it. I gave him eight years, built his empire brick by bloody brick, and was secretly carrying his child. But for a fragile art student, he had me drugged on a gurney. I was awake as a back-alley doctor cut our baby from my womb. I heard our child's single cry, then silence. "Anything that threatens her, I will destroy," he whispered, his voice void of all emotion. "Even you. Even our child." He then left me for his men to violate and discard. My last thought was that I was just a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn. But then my eyes snapped open. I was in my car, my stomach flat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The date on my phone seared itself into my brain. I was back on the day of the first kidnapping. This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice. This time, I would survive./0/96395/coverorgin.jpg?v=d2511412ee7b6969545a5a8a7f5ebff7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises
At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family—a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter./1/100382/coverorgin.jpg?v=4254338badef9e33e9b0759afdc6dfd5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
