Alfredo Deangelo
10 Published Stories
Alfredo Deangelo's Books and Stories
Reborn As The Ruthless CEO's Wife
Romance Evelyn Reed was an Oscar-winning actress and a CEO, about to marry the man she had supported for ten years.
But minutes before the wedding, her twin sister Vanessa handed her a glass of poisoned champagne.
As Evelyn collapsed, paralyzed on the marble floor, her groom Sean walked in.
He didn't help her. Instead, he pulled Vanessa into a passionate embrace.
"I'm tired of taking your charity," Sean sneered, declaring he was taking over her entertainment empire.
Vanessa, her face twisted with pathological jealousy, grabbed Evelyn's first crystal acting trophy.
"It was always supposed to be me," Vanessa screamed, plunging the sharp crystal star deep into Evelyn's chest.
They had already paid off a doctor to frame her murder as a sudden heart attack, ready to inherit everything she had built from scratch.
As her blood soaked her Vera Wang gown, Evelyn watched the two vipers kiss over her cooling corpse.
She had given them fame, money, and her whole heart. Why did they repay her love with such brutal, calculating hatred?
When she opened her eyes again, she wasn't in the bridal suite, but thrashing in the freezing ocean.
She had been reborn into the body of Cassandra Laurent, a bullied heiress who had just jumped off a yacht to escape an arranged marriage.
And the man pulling her out of the water was the ruthless billionaire she was supposed to marry. From Drowned Bride To Shining Starlight
Modern My fiancé plunged our SUV into an icy river during a blizzard. He had a choice: save me, or save his childhood sweetheart, Kianna.
He didn't hesitate. He left me to drown.
This wasn't the first time. In my last life, he' d "saved" me after Kianna drowned, only to trap me in a loveless marriage. He blamed me for her death, his silent accusations a constant torment. My own parents didn't care, forcing the wedding to secure a corporate merger. I was nothing more than a pawn.
He married me not for love, but as penance, making me his living scapegoat for the woman he truly lost.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the sinking car, the icy water rising around me.
This time, I smiled and pushed him toward her.
"Save Kianna," I commanded. "She needs you more." My Secret Crush For Foster Uncle Ethan
Romance It was my eighteenth birthday, a day that should have been filled with joy, but the silence in the grand dining room was heavy with the ghost of my foster parents, gone too soon.
Across from me sat Ethan, my foster uncle and the only family I had left, his serious gray eyes holding a warmth I foolishly mistook for something more, until I finally confessed my love for him.
His reaction was swift and brutal; he called me disgusting, shameful, and a burden, his words shattering my heart as he left me to drown in humiliation and pain, only to reappear two years later with a beautiful fiancée.
I clung to him, desperate, until one horrifying moment on a plummeting private jet when he ripped the parachute from my back, offering my life to save Tiffany' s, leaving me to fall into the abyss.
Against all odds, I survived, pulling his broken body from the wreckage myself, only to wake and hear him praise Tiffany for saving his life, erasing my sacrifice and leaving me utterly broken, a quiet, chilling resolve settling in my soul. Escaping The Betrayal's Chill
Modern The biting cold was the first thing I felt, deep in the walk-in freezer where Chloe, my wife of five years, had locked me.
My punishment for accidentally breaking an outrageously expensive Patek Philippe, a gift not for me, but for Liam O'Connell, her "soulmate" who was returning to the US today.
Hours earlier, her face had turned to ice, her voice dangerously quiet, "You clumsy fool! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Her grip like steel, she' d shoved me inside, snarling, "Two hours. Think about what you did," before the heavy door slammed shut.
I had loved her, so much so that I' d sold my firm and inheritance to free her from gambling debts, thinking my selfless love had won her heart.
A dream shattered by a hidden journal revealing her rage, resentment, and her true love for Liam, whispering to our son, Leo, "This is your real dad."
Now, shivering, I heard a muffled thud, then another, against the door, and Leo' s small voice screaming, "Get out! You made Mom unhappy! Get out of here!"
A harder kick, "I don't want you as my dad anymore!"
My spirit shattered into a million tiny pieces, the cold from the freezer nothing compared to the chill in my soul.
Just as consciousness faded, Chloe unlatched the door, the kitchen light blinding me.
She found me collapsed, feverish, but her face was a mask of irritation, annoyed she' d been caught, already on the phone with Liam, gushing, "Leo? Oh, he's wonderful. He calls you 'Dad' all the time now. He can't wait to see you."
My son looked down at me, his face twisted in disgust, "You're pathetic."
That was the moment.
The last flicker of hope died.
I stumbled to the guest room, my hands shaking.
Ignoring calls, I booked a one-way international flight to anywhere, vowing never to return.
Two days later, Chloe was seen on the news, chasing my taxi to the airport, screaming my name in a public meltdown no one, least of all me, could have predicted.
I still had no idea how deep her betrayal ran. Swamp Fire: A Trucker's Justice
Romance I pushed my rig across forty-eight states for a year, eating at truck stops and sleeping in the cab, all to save for a home with my wife, Jenny.
Returning home, bone-deep tired but finally holding our savings, I found the house too clean, Jenny wasn't there, and a small tag on her car keys led me to a high-end car wash.
There, an attendant greeted me by name, confirming Jenny's "Platinum" status and frequent visits, which made no sense given her short commute, and a cold dread started to settle in.
The truth exploded when I checked her car's GPS: thousands of miles logged to a luxury hotel, a cocktail lounge, and even a distant casino, all during my brutal year on the road, leaving me reeling in disbelief as I saw a fresh hickey on her neck, and then found a trash bag full of empty men' s cologne boxes and high-end boutique receipts.
How could the woman I' d sacrificed everything for betray me so completely, then feign innocence and turn the entire town against me when her lover announced she was pregnant with his child?
Humiliated and backed into a corner, I knew I had to fight back. His Uncle, Her Vengeance
Romance I was on the cusp of everything, a rising country music star poised for the CMA Horizon Award, making my dying grandfather' s legacy a reality.
But then my boyfriend, Ethan, shattered it all, sending me to the wrong venue, watching smugly as my rival, Jennifer Todd, stole my nomination.
Later, he casually dismissed my dream, then, at Jennifer' s cruel urging, smashed my hand, destroying my ability to play.
As if that wasn' t enough, Jennifer visited my grandfather in hospice, gleefully telling him my career was over, triggering his heart attack.
My world crumbled; I lost my music, my future, and my last link to him, only for Ethan to propose I abandon my "white-trash family history" and the media to accuse me of faking my injuries and causing my grandfather's death.
Just as I stood broken at his graveside, a dark, powerful figure emerged through the crowd, offering a silent promise of revenge. The Price of His Betrayal
Romance I once thought my love for Julian Croft was everything, willingly sacrificing my entire identity and unique art to fit his "pious" world.
I even became pregnant, convinced his child would finally make me permanent in his life.
But his sister, Claire, violently attacked me, kicking my stomach and causing a horrifying miscarriage.
Julian, the man I loved, rushed in and only saw Claire, frantically asking if her hand was hurt, completely oblivious to my bleeding body on the floor.
When I awoke in the hospital, stripped of my baby and hope, Julian appeared desperate – not for me, but to demand my blood for Claire, who' d been in a car crash.
He begged the doctors to save "his Elle," using the same pet name he once whispered to me.
In that shattering instant, I realized the ultimate horror: I was never "his Elle"; I was merely a substitute, a stand-in for his twisted, suffocating obsession with his sister.
Used and utterly destroyed, forced to save the very woman who had killed my child, I found a cold, clear resolve in the void of my being.
I walked out of that hospital, leaving everything behind, vowing to forge a new life far from the wreckage he left.
Now, six years later, I'm back in glittering Manhattan, not the broken girl he thought he knew, but Elara, a celebrated artist, a loving wife to Kael, and a proud mother to our son.
And Julian Croft is about to learn that the woman he betrayed is no longer picking up discarded rings, but building an empire of her own. My Second Shot at Life
Horror My app, GatherGround, was a hit, and my launch party was buzzing.
It was also my birthday, a night meant for celebration.
Then, my best friend Jess and charming boyfriend Ethan gave me a "special" gift: a vintage instant camera.
What followed was a nightmare.
My mother died in a freak accident, my dad suffered a debilitating stroke, my company was cyber-attacked and destroyed, and Ethan coldly abandoned me.
As I stared death in the face, a horrifying truth flashed before my eyes: the camera wasn' t a gift-it was draining everything from me, giving it to them, to Jess and Ethan, who flourished as I withered.
But then, I gasped, the party music pounding again, and saw Jess walking towards me with that same cursed box, moments before it all began.
I was back, and this time, armed with knowledge and burning rage, I would rewrite my fate. You might like
The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze 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. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang 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." The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. My Mafia Husband's Betrayal, My Fury
Kinship My husband, Don Lorenzo Bianchi, the man who once took ninety-nine lashes for me, had just locked me in a guest room. I was four months pregnant with our child, the heir to his mafia empire.
My crime was throwing a glass of wine on his mistress, a woman he had moved into our home.
She cornered me in the garden, gloating that once the baby was born, he would give it to her to raise as her own. Later, she shoved me down the grand staircase, then threw herself down after me, screaming to my husband that I had tried to kill her.
As I lay in a pool of my own blood, Lorenzo rushed past me, scooping her into his arms and carrying her away without a single backward glance.
To force me to apologize, he had my parents brought to my hospital room and brutally whipped until they collapsed at his feet.
He was no longer the man who had 999 crystals sewn into my wedding dress. He was a monster who believed every lie she told and punished me for her crimes. How could the man who swore to love me forever become this cruel stranger?
But he didn't know the truth. Days before the fall, I had secretly terminated the pregnancy. I took the urn containing our child's ashes, filed for divorce, and disappeared from his world forever. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler 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. Too Late, Mr. Mafia: The Surgeon He Discarded
Winnie Suchoff 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. 
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