Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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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."/1/114174/coverorgin.jpg?v=58b43c00acdc183a5fd7255a87763358&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play./1/114681/coverorgin.jpg?v=afc98375fb3cbaccbdf70eb3483a4feb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance
What's more embarrassing than a butt dial? Butt dialing your boss... And leaving a dirty voicemail when you're uhh... "thinking" about them. Working as Ruslan Oryolov's personal assistant is the job from hell. After a long day spent tending to the billionaire's every whim, I need some stress relief. So when I get home that night, that's exactly what I do. Problem is, my thoughts are still stuck on the bosshole who's ruining my life. That's fine-because of all Ruslan's many sins, being gorgeous might be the most dangerous. Tonight, fantasies of him are just what I need to push me over the edge. But when I look down at my phone squished next to me, There it is. A voicemail for 7 minutes and 32 seconds... Sent to Ruslan Oryolov. I panic and throw my phone across the room. But there is no undoing the damage done by my very vocal O. So what can I do? My plan was to just avoid him and act like it never happened. Besides, no one that busy checks their voicemails, right? But when he schedules a one-on-one meeting with me for exactly 7 minutes and 32 seconds, One thing is for certain: He. Heard. Everything./1/117369/coverorgin.jpg?v=0b6d23f8e844e5367a12570d635ea46a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Don's Wife Is His Executioner
My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen. But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman. "Our little secret is growing." The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar. "The only exit from this Family is death," he warned. The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate. I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves. He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy. He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire. I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative. "Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first."/0/85173/coverorgin.jpg?v=a10502c379551739b42acb52fe8f2cd6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body. My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in. I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then- I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses. Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down- He's still hard. Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance. "You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless. "I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake. "Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat. And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm. "Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. *** Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge. She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez. He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her. What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated. Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty? And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd5a88eb49b6856c724b675835423101&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."/1/118856/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ebae4a8d24523e4b34faf973ae8837f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Comeback
I was the dutiful wife of Julian, a ruthless Capo in the Chicago Syndicate. Six months ago, my convoy was ambushed by a rival cartel. While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor of the car, my husband was on the phone with his mistress, Mia. "Lock your doors, stay inside," he told her, never once asking if I was alive. I survived, only to watch him flaunt his betrayal. He brought his mistress into our home, booked her luxury suites in Tokyo, and bought her massive diamonds with Syndicate funds. When I refused to play the part of his obedient, blind wife, he publicly humiliated me and orchestrated rumors to isolate me. He thought I was just collateral, a powerless figurehead he could control and eventually discard to settle his debts. I had endured this loveless marriage to survive in the family, yet he treated me worse than dirt while elevating a mistress who knew nothing of our world. I was suffocating in a cage of neglect, enraged by the audacity of a coward who broke every sacred vow. So, I took off my vulgar wedding ring and left it on his bathroom sink. I picked up my phone and sent a message to Dante Falcone, the exiled heir who had stitched my flesh back together in secret. This time, I chose to burn my husband's empire to the ground./1/115570/coverorgin.jpg?v=fa2d3806b9d4aae00186cede1d78932b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Revenge Wedding: I Choose The Reaper
On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes. She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia." Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours. He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity. But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture." I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her. And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm. Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite. He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet. He is wrong. I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door. And I changed the groom. As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears. The Reaper./1/118974/coverorgin.jpg?v=dc99e5b8feb3fdb4b212a5da9d43006d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna. He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant. "It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son." He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years. He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman. They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago. I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.* Dante was the sterile one. I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret. Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible. I signed the divorce papers without a tear. Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening. I didn't come to object. I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was./1/116914/coverorgin.jpg?v=764bdc91b545e4c360548ce3ddf572ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Pampered By The Rival Syndicate Don
As I lay in the cold underground clinic, terminating the unborn heir of the city's most feared mafia underboss, my phone lit up. My fiancé of seven years had just publicly pledged his protection and a home-cooked meal to his ex-lover, moments after telling me to risk a deadly ambush by ordering takeout. When I returned to our penthouse, bleeding and broken, he didn't even notice. He gave my specialized prenatal milk to his ex because she had a "delicate stomach," leaving me only a hollowed-out egg white and dry crusts. When I begged him to stay, he violently kicked my packed suitcase across the marble floor. "Elena's medical needs take priority right now," he snapped, rushing out because his ex felt cold. He even blocked my secure number when I frantically tried to reach him one last time. For seven years, we had built an empire together. I couldn't understand how a past flame playing the fragile doe could make him discard my life and our child's existence so callously, treating me like worthless scraps. Sitting in the empty penthouse, I wiped my tears and opened the global Syndicate network. "My betrothal to Vincent is officially dissolved. Act accordingly." I powered down my phone, grabbed my tactical gear, and boarded a private jet to leave his territory forever./1/100249/coverorgin.jpg?v=a570494f3c22659a84b85b8169022ad7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return./1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1dec4753a5c9ea677f050c0b517bc01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away./1/110133/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6428170bc09c00f6487b1a72008e49a&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."/1/118982/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f3bd24d937989336c29e09b03c6f33a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Who's Useless Now, Mr. Capo
For six years, I traded my life as the Syndicate's top cryptographer to be a devoted wife to Victor, a powerful Mafia Capo, and a loving mother to our son. But today, outside his elite academy, my six-year-old son looked me in the eye and called me a "useless pig" in flawless Russian. It was the exact curse his father used for his enemies. When I demanded answers, Victor merely rolled his eyes, calling me a hysterical, unappealing housewife who did nothing but sit at home. My mother-in-law openly mocked my weakness, encouraging my son to treat me like a maid. And Victor's mistress boldly texted me, bragging that he had promised her my place the moment I gave birth to my second child. They had poisoned my own blood against me, treating my years of silent sacrifice as an invitation to completely erase me. They truly believed I was just a helpless, pregnant civilian who would swallow their abuse to keep a roof over my head. They forgot that before my world shrank to the size of a drawing-room, I was the one who built the foundations of Victor's empire in the shadows. Looking at the digital evidence of Victor skimming millions from the Syndicate Boss—evidence his foolish mistress had accidentally sent me to taunt me—the last thread of my devotion snapped. I calmly packed my tactical bag, secured the encrypted ledgers, and dialed the ruling Consigliere. "I want a legally binding Severance, and in exchange, I am giving you Victor's head on a platter."/1/118390/coverorgin.jpg?v=f918cf3730c96f0fbaac5ed99b9daa05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escaping The Capo: Marrying The Undisputed Don
We were celebrating our ten-year anniversary at the Famiglia's most exclusive luxury restaurant. Before we could even finish our champagne, my fiancé Lorenzo suddenly stood up. "Gianna is panicking. The situation requires my presence." He walked out, leaving me completely alone in a room full of dangerous made men. Ten minutes later, Gianna posted a photo of Lorenzo in her living room, calling him her protector. For ten years, I had managed his blood money, scrubbed gunpowder from my nails, and isolated myself from my family to protect his Capo status. But he didn't even give me a seat at the table. Instead, he paraded Gianna around the underground banquet, letting her claim my place and mock my humiliation in front of the entire syndicate. When I finally snapped and confronted him, he grabbed my wrist hard enough to leave bruises. "You are making a scene in front of my men." I had twisted myself into an unrecognizable knot to survive in his world, silencing my own instincts to appease his paranoia. Why did my decade of absolute loyalty yield nothing but being treated like a discarded pawn? As I fell to the concrete, bleeding and completely broken, a towering figure emerged from the shadows. It was Dante Romano, the undisputed Don of New York. He pulled me into his arms and handed me the ultimate power to destroy the man who had ruined me. But the Don's protection came with a price I never saw coming./1/118709/coverorgin.jpg?v=9fc7be59080d1a09e7a7ed5388e30ec8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Signing Away The Mafia Don
For five years, I nursed my crippled mafia boss husband back to health. But the moment he reclaimed his throne, he brought home his childhood friend, Rosalie. He gave her the master suite and ordered me to the kitchens to prepare food like a common maid. Even my eight-year-old stepdaughter, whom I had raised since she was a toddler, started looking at me with absolute disgust. "I wish you were my real mother, Aunt Rosalie. She dresses like a peasant and doesn't belong in our bloodline." When Rosalie orchestrated a fake kidnapping to frame me, my own daughter looked Vincenzo in the eyes and lied to support the mistress. Then, Rosalie faked a fainting spell at the top of the grand staircase. Vincenzo rushed up to catch her, letting me tumble violently down the hard marble steps. As I lay paralyzed in a pool of my own blood, miscarrying our unborn child, he carried her away without sparing me a single glance. I didn't understand. I had pulled him from the edge of death, washed his wasted body, and carved the wooden cane he used to walk. Why was my five years of absolute devotion treated like disposable garbage? When the doctor delivered the crushing news about my baby, the last ember of affection I held for him went cold. I signed the annulment papers without asking for a single cent, and vanished from the city forever./1/100250/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e1cc879a2a9ec09824fc48dab606c09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire
For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power. But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins. It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola. When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel. Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry. "You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch. "But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job." He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash. He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him. I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone. Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?" I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected. "The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all." Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street. Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary. He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi./1/116789/coverorgin.jpg?v=c2b143758d80e1719aba0046456f331a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Capo's Surgeon
I was five months pregnant and the top underground surgeon for the Chicago mafia. On Christmas Eve, I was called in to perform an off-the-books C-section on a VIP patient. But through the operating room glass, I saw my mafia boss husband, Julian. He wasn't there for me. He was slamming his fists against the door, screaming in desperation for the bleeding mistress on my table. "I swear on my life I will marry you, Lyla. Just hold on." I delivered his illegitimate son while he completely ignored my existence, kissing her knuckles with a reverence I thought was mine alone. The nightmare didn't end there. When I returned to our cold penthouse, I had my prenatal vitamins tested. They were laced with black-market hormones designed to cause severe fetal deformities and force a late-term miscarriage. Julian, the man who once took a bullet for me and swore a blood oath to protect me, had been secretly poisoning our unborn child. His entire family had been covering up his four-year affair, praising the mistress while using me as a convenient shield. How could the fiercely protective husband I loved be the very monster plotting to destroy me from the inside out? The last shred of my affection for the Capo instantly turned to ash. I calmly booked a discreet termination, drafted ironclad annulment papers, and walked out to build my own empire. ---/1/118840/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260605171107&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Next Life For The Don
For two years, I endured hell in an underground brothel, bleeding to earn the bribe money to save my Mafia Don husband from the electric chair. But when Cassio finally returned, he didn't come to rescue me. He marched in with thirty armed enforcers, threw annulment papers on my chest, and announced his new mistress was pregnant with his heir. The mistress was Camilla, a low-level associate who stole the credit for my sacrifice. Cassio believed every lie she told, looking at my degrading uniform with pure disgust. "Sign the papers. You have disgraced the Moretti name enough." He ignored the whip marks and burn scars covering my ruined body, tossing a stack of cash at my feet like I was trash. When I tried to buy my freedom with the ten million dollars I had agonizingly earned, he ruthlessly blocked my bid. He demanded I kneel and pledge loyalty to Camilla, trapping me as their property. I couldn't understand how the man who once promised to burn the world down for me could be so blind. I had destroyed my body and my ability to ever carry a child just to secure his freedom. Yet he was standing here, publicly humiliating me for the woman who secretly orchestrated my torture. Staring into his cold, unforgiving eyes, my dead heart finally turned to ash. I calmly invoked the ancient, fatal 'Angel's Drop' trial. I wrapped the sheer red silk around my wrists and ascended into the dark sky, choosing a shattered death in the freezing harbor over a life with him./1/118997/coverorgin.jpg?v=07821f374e019e7e81f6f8bef4cdb2a4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
