Mafia Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Jilted Mistress? I Am The Mafia Queen
I handed the man I loved a positive pregnancy test, expecting the silver engagement ring I had spent years saving up for. Instead, Ryan shoved a marriage certificate inscribed with another woman's name in my face. He told me he needed her mafia family's backing to become a Capo, and our unborn child was a liability. Before I could even process the betrayal, his hand clamped around my throat. He slammed me against the fridge and forced a pill down my throat. As I collapsed in a pool of my own blood, screaming in agony, he pulled out his phone. He calmly recorded my battered, bleeding body to prove his loyalty to his new wife, Victoria. Later that night, they dragged me into an exclusive underworld club. Victoria and her clique poured scalding coffee on me, kicked my ribs, and played the audio of what he did to me for everyone to laugh at. Ryan watched me bleed with eyes entirely devoid of remorse. I lay on the cold marble floor, completely broken. The boy who had protected me from the streets since we were kids had become a monster, trading my life and our child for a taste of real power. Just as they raised their phones to broadcast my final humiliation to the underworld, the heavy double doors swung open. Don Victor Vance, the city's most terrifying syndicate boss, parted the sea of abusers. He fell to his knees, weeping as he pulled my bleeding body into his arms. I managed a weak smile. "Dad, you came."/1/119875/coverorgin.jpg?v=5231c62ce276c5b0632fafd3c99e3813&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mafia Don's Regret: His Heir Never Existed
On the night of my twenty-fourth birthday, my husband walked into our heavily guarded penthouse with his pregnant childhood friend and demanded a divorce to protect her bastard child—entirely oblivious to the fact that I was carrying his. My posture became a rigid thing at the long mahogany dining table. The wicks of the candles I had spent hours preparing had drowned, leaving greasy craters in the frosting. On the far side of that ruined confection, Christian Cavallaro stood. He was the Don of the Cavallaro Family—a man who had left two rival syndicates cooling on mortuary slabs before his twenty-fifth birthday, whose name was a quiet command that could make hardened men lower their eyes. His dark suits were always tailored to perfection, hiding the lethal weapons and scars beneath. But right now, he was just the man breaking my heart with a single sentence. Serena stood slightly behind him, her hand a pale guard over her still-flat stomach. She was a high-ranking Capo's daughter, a glamorous socialite who had spent the last few years in Europe. Now she was back, pregnant with a child fathered by an outsider from an enemy faction. In our circle, that was a crime punishable by death. Christian took a step closer. His gaze fell to the hollow of my collarbone. In the dim light, his pupils were wide, the shadows obscuring his intent. He told me the syndicate demanded blood for Serena's transgression. The only way to shield her was to give her child the protection of his name. He needed to marry her. My hand moved to my own flat stomach. Beneath my palm was the secret I had planned to share tonight—the tiny heartbeat I had imagined would complete our fractured family. A sudden, glacial clarity settled in my bones. I looked at the man who had pulled me out of the blood and trauma of my parents' assassination ten years ago. They had been loyal soldiers, dying to take bullets meant for his father. In return, I had been made a ward of the estate. A decade of devotion, bartered for this. I had folded my medical school acceptance letter and tucked it away to become a silent, suitable wife. I had weathered his mother's remarks about my low-ranking blood, learning to arrange my face into a serene mask. I had thought my devotion would eventually thaw his cold exterior. I was wrong. Christian reiterated the necessity of the divorce. He said it was only a temporary measure. I looked at Serena, and saw the smirk that flickered for an instant behind her sculpted mask of fear. I realized then that bringing a child into this penthouse—where any window might splinter inward from a sniper's bullet—would be a life sentence. My baby would be born into a cage of paranoia and blood, with Serena's poisoned presence a permanent threat. If I revealed my condition now, his child would forever chain me to his syndicate. I would never be free. Neither would my child. I lowered my hand from my stomach and folded it over my other hand on the table. I looked directly into my husband's eyes, and I told him I agreed to the divorce./1/116517/coverorgin.jpg?v=734fc8714389234e3530e8eb7f7c0456&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Ex's Regret: Married To His Enemy
For eight years, I was the Falcone mafia's top fixer and the Don's secret fiancée, taking bullets to keep his syndicate alive. But when my mother was crashing from heart failure, he refused to authorize her lifesaving surgery. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the crowded ballroom, begging him to make the call. Instead, Kieran didn't even flinch. He sat there meticulously folding a paper bird for his new favorite, Elena. "You are causing a scene, Sienna," he scolded me coldly. "And you completely forgot to pick up Elena's custom gown today. I am not rewarding your tantrums." He then publicly stripped me of my executive rank, gave my hard-earned Underboss title to Elena, and made a show of praising her—while the vintage diamond ring he had chosen in her favorite style still sat on my finger. I had died on the operating table three times to build his empire, yet he was willing to let my mother die over a delayed dress. The desperation in my gut congealed into a block of ice, and my lingering love completely burned away. I took off the ring and walked straight out of the Falcone estate into the freezing night. Outside, the Matriarch of his deadliest rival was waiting in an armored SUV. "My clinic can save her," she said smoothly. "But you know the price." I didn't even hesitate. "I will marry your son."/1/104479/coverorgin.jpg?v=fddc4551dd58a6540ed414f4510ecf2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."/1/101978/coverorgin.jpg?v=a803a489fb4c7da8eae42211e7723515&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Reign: Choosing The Monster Over The Prince
The bullet tore through my chest, ending my life as the perfect mafia princess. My fiancé, Connor Walls, watched me bleed out on the cold tile floor while he calmly cleaned his gun. Standing beside him was my cousin Jana, the girl I trusted with my life, looking at him with adoration as I took my last breath. I died realizing that the "Golden Prince" of the Chicago Outfit was actually a monster who had beaten me behind closed doors for years. And the man I had been terrified of—his brother Brannon, the "Butcher"—was the only one who had ever truly protected me. I died full of regret, hatred, and the metallic taste of blood. But then, I gasped, my body jolting upright on a blue gym mat. My skin was smooth. My heart was beating. Connor stood above me, young and arrogant, offering me a hand. I was twenty-one again. The beatings, the betrayal, the murder—none of it had happened yet. Connor smiled, thinking I was still the naive girl he planned to break and discard. He thought I would walk into the Rite of Choice tonight and obediently become his property. He was wrong. That night, under the crystal chandeliers, the Don asked me to pledge myself to the heir. The entire room held its breath, waiting for the rehearsed "I do." I looked at Connor, then turned my gaze to the terrifying shadow in the corner. "The debt requires a union with the Walls bloodline," I said, my voice steel. "It does not specify the heir." I pointed at the monster everyone feared. "I choose Brannon Walls."/1/120759/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6ea89bf67218a823db67bccd4e809aa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Don's Melted Snow
For fifteen years, I bled for my husband, a ruthless Mafia Don, helping him build his syndicate from the ground up. But on our anniversary, I found a cheap strawberry lip balm in his armored car. That was when I discovered he was having an affair with a civilian secretary, and she was pregnant with his heir. Instead of staying with me, he lied to my face and abandoned me at home to rush to her side. "He sees you as an unbreachable fortress, and her as someone who needs his protection." His right-hand man had been covering it up for months. I learned my husband had bought the mistress the flawless blood diamond he once promised me when we were starving in safe houses. He was even taking her to the Swiss Alps—our dream wedding destination. I had stitched his bullet wounds in unlit basements and frozen in the winter cold to deliver his bribes. I gave him my youth and my absolute loyalty, only to be tossed aside for a fragile girl who just wanted a crown. I didn't cry, and I didn't beg him to stay. I left my cheap copper wire wedding ring on his pillow, drafted a severance demand to take half of his laundered assets, and booked my own first-class ticket to Europe. This time, I was going to see the snow for myself./1/120406/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2efc6b4622fd4b7122a302d3f2a6cf3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Capo: Watch Me Shine
For our third wedding anniversary, I wore the thin floral dress my husband demanded and made his favorite traditional broth. I just wanted to be the perfect Mafia wife. But halfway up a freezing mountain, he played a voice message from his secretary. "Leave her on the roadside. Take her phone and coat. Let's see if she crawls back begging on her knees." To my absolute horror, my husband actually pulled over, dragged me out into the dirt, and drove away. He left me at nine degrees below zero. When I nearly died in the snow instead of begging, he launched a vicious smear campaign. He claimed I abandoned him to sleep with the groundskeeper who saved my life. He filed for a Syndicate divorce, demanding my dowry back and threatening to crush my father's business if I didn't surrender. While I scrubbed diner floors to survive, his secretary moved into my penthouse and wore my diamond anniversary necklace. They thought the freezing cold and poverty would break my spirit. They thought I was just a fragile, disposable pawn who would eventually cave to his power. But they didn't know I had the hidden dashcam footage of that night. As I walked into the Mafia Tribunal, I looked at his arrogant face and prepared to show the Dons exactly what kind of coward my husband truly was./1/104842/coverorgin.jpg?v=146e9037172b3339a2a334a162c78e6d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Don's Regret: Losing His Life Saver
For three years, I was the one scrubbing the scent of blood from his hands and holding him while he screamed in pain. I was the one who taught Coleton Barron how to walk again after the car bomb nearly took his legs. But the moment he reclaimed his seat as Don, I became invisible. At his recovery gala, he draped his arm around Charly—the woman who fled when he was crippled—and laughed as he told his inner circle I was "just the hired help." It didn't stop at insults. When Charly faked a fall, he shoved me aside with enough force to crack my skull against the pool edge. When a bomb went off in a gallery, he looked me in the eye, saw me trapped under debris, and turned his back to carry her to safety instead. He even held a gun to my head because she lied about me poisoning his soup. His mother threw a check at me, telling me that tools go back in the box when the job is done. They thought I would beg to stay. They thought I was weak. I took the five million and vanished without a word. Three years later, I returned to New York. Not as his nurse, but as the fiancée of the only man Coleton fears. And when he saw the diamond on my finger, the King of New York finally realized he had thrown away his only lifeline./1/120311/coverorgin.jpg?v=f0e966eae3f9d826e8241c4cb63c158f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Mafia: The Surgeon He Discarded
I was the wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country. But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage. In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me. I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth. My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated. I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife. In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed. Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets. I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse. Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began. Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears. "Take your time to think about it." This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life. I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned./1/119098/coverorgin.jpg?v=58619d34922cdd98d9820da620fbf3f0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Don's $46 Million Mistake
I married Luca Falcone, the most dangerous Mafia Don in New York, believing our arranged union had blossomed into true love. But exactly five minutes after our vows, he smashed my father's face into the glass wedding table in front of three hundred guests. "Giovanni Rossi is accused of embezzling forty-six million dollars from this Family!" With those words, he sentenced my father to a brutal blood tribunal. I was dragged into a freezing underground cell in my ruined silk wedding dress. His Head of Intelligence threw a surveillance dossier at me, revealing that Luca's twenty months of romance was just a cold, calculated investigation to destroy my family. My mother was left dry-heaving on the marble floor in terror, and my father's heart gave out as he was dragged to the infirmary. I stared at the photos of our dates, the agonizing realization suffocating me. Every morning coffee, every gentle touch, and every whispered promise in the dark was an elaborate lie. He had tracked my every move for nearly two years but never trusted me enough to just ask about the money, choosing the word of a jealous operative over his own wife. So, I wiped my tears and stopped playing the docile bride. I calmly summoned my corporate lawyer and dropped the federal tax records proving I was a secret billionaire CEO. The forty-six million was my own legal money, saved to treat my father's terminal cancer. Ignoring the ruthless Don as he finally dropped to his knees in tears, I left my wedding ring on the divorce papers and walked out./0/68171/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d037cc277a14aeeb9a729f9bbd42770&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
"It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!" Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive? However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her. A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life. "You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!"/1/104844/coverorgin.jpg?v=258d3a78ea5111a20b88789fa59a5441&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Placeholder Wife: His Too Late Regret
On our fifth anniversary, I didn't get a gift. I got divorce papers. My husband, Ethan Spencer, the city's most feared Underboss, stood by while his mistress threw red wine over my white gown in front of the entire elite. "You're just a placeholder, Brooke," she sneered. "A factory rat keeping the seat warm." I waited for Ethan to defend me. Instead, when she planted a necklace in my bag and accused me of theft, he didn't check the cameras. He didn't look at the blood soaking my dress where he had shoved me aside. He called the police on his own wife. "Take her away," he ordered cold-heartedly, stepping over me to comfort the crying woman who was framing me. I spent the night in a freezing cell, realizing that for five years, he hadn't even opened the anniversary gifts I hid in his closet. He didn't know I wrote the stories for his company's games. He didn't know I was the one keeping his empire afloat. When I was released, I didn't go back to the penthouse. I walked straight to the headquarters of his sworn enemy, Dominic Cannon. "I heard you're looking for a narrative designer," I said, placing my wedding ring on his desk. "And I know exactly how to destroy the Spencer family." By the time Ethan found out the truth and came crawling back, dying and clutching the steel rose I once made him, it was too late. I was already wearing someone else's ring./0/90919/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb79f4b9372b9379e3777d0dd6062c4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Devil's Deal With Mafia Tycoon
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself. I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place. I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again. I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked. I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay. And now I'm his./1/101981/coverorgin.jpg?v=e70fac03f3fb06e385f4dbadbbdeddab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose The Mistress Over His Queen
I was polishing a diamond engagement ring that cost more than a small island when I heard the truth. My fiancé, the ruthless Don Dante Moretti, was telling his mistress I was nothing more than a glorified bank account. But it wasn't until the accident that I understood the depth of his cruelty. While training in the estate gym, a support cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg on impact. Through the haze of blinding pain, I waited for Dante to save me. Instead, he rushed to his mistress, Livia—the woman who had cut the wire. He held her close, soothing her because the loud noise had "startled" her, while I lay broken and bleeding on the floor. "She won't die," I heard him whisper to her later. "Pain is a good teacher." My love for him turned to ice in that moment. He didn't just want my father's money; he was letting her plan my assassination to get it. They thought I was just a porcelain doll to be discarded once the wedding contracts were signed. They forgot that even a pawn can kill a king. I wiped the tears from my face and walked straight into the territory of the Valenti Syndicate—Dante's sworn enemy. "I don't want protection," I told the rival Don, placing the surveillance evidence on his table. "I want to burn his entire dynasty to the ground."/1/120449/coverorgin.jpg?v=9015c9010b570f6e4e2bbbae209c6353&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mafia King Kneels For His Ex-Wife
I was the lawful wife of Salvatore Vitiello, the most feared Mafia Don in New York. For six years, I endured his coldness, believing my miscarriage and subsequent hysterectomy were the tragic results of a rival syndicate's kidnapping. But at the triennial Syndicate summit, my brother whispered a horrifying secret into my ear. "The Don procured the services of the family surgeon to have your womb removed." Salvatore himself had ordered the mutilation six years ago as a calculated punishment for our forced marriage. While I reeled from the sickening truth, Salvatore publicly humiliated me. He paraded his pregnant mistress, Serena, forcing me to surrender my seat of honor to her. My own parents and brother fawned over the mistress, kicking me to the floor into a pile of shattered crystal. Bleeding and broken, I was ordered by my husband to peel over a hundred shrimp for the woman carrying his heir, while the entire room mocked my barrenness. I had spent six excruciating years trying to earn his forgiveness for a trap my parents set, desperately loving the devil who had coolly destroyed my ability to be a mother. My family had sold me to him, and he had mutilated me just to break me. The suffocating love I harbored for him snapped like a rotted cord. I didn't cry or scream. I packed a single suitcase, walked out of the heavily fortified estate in the dead of night, and mailed him the Syndicate severance papers./0/99234/coverorgin.jpg?v=0e6a2a6a2cbe6aace5c43b8b7fd00a2e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Betrayed Me, Now He Begs
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."/1/118272/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef1066afb645c5518ce83c1a9efb3320&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Let His Mistress Strip Me
My husband froze my cards in front of Chicago's most ruthless mobsters. Then he let his mistress smash a bottle of wine at my feet-and ordered his men to strip me if I couldn't pay. The room laughed. They called me a useless trophy wife. They had no idea what I had done for him in the shadows. No idea that I wasn't begging for mercy-I was buying time. I borrowed a burner phone and made one call. They thought they were humiliating me. They had thirty minutes to learn just how wrong they were./1/104529/coverorgin.jpg?v=c9980e81ba0a8e7c4ad594cbaab927a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Fiancée Is A Legend
For three years, I played the role of the submissive, boring fiancée to pay off a blood debt. My mother gave her kidney to save the Moretti Matriarch, and in return, I was promised to Dante, the heir. A life for a life. I cleaned his estate and wore his ring while he treated me like furniture. But my silence only bought me humiliation. Dante didn't just cheat; he brought his mistress, Roxy, into our home for dinner. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" on a recording and then broke our engagement via an Instagram post, tagging me to ensure the entire underworld saw my shame. When I went to return the family crest, they wanted a show. Roxy mocked me in front of Dante’s soldiers, snatched my mother’s antique jade pendant—the only thing I had left of her—and shattered it on the dirty club floor. Dante laughed, thinking I was helpless. They thought I was a hothouse flower who would faint at the smell of exhaust. They didn't know the "boring" girl had a racing license hidden under the floorboards. They didn't know I was "Ghost," the legendary underground racer they all bet on. Roxy handed me a spectator ticket to the Death Race, telling me to watch how the big boys play. I took the ticket, but I didn't go to the stands. I walked to the starting line, put on my helmet, and decimated the track record. When I took off that helmet in the winner's circle, Dante’s face went pale. And when Lorenzo Falcone, the most dangerous man in the city, stepped out of the shadows to wipe the blood from my hand and claim me as his own, Dante realized the truth. He hadn't just lost a fiancée. He had signed his own death warrant./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."/1/119604/coverorgin.jpg?v=a5227615face6fc942d92d10918a22e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
