Amigo
17 Published Stories
Amigo's Books and Stories
No Tears For My Cold Mafia Husband
Mafia On our first wedding anniversary, my husband walked out the door.
Not for business. For her.
I left the divorce papers on the table, my wedding ring next to his untouched champagne, and I disappeared into the night.
For a year, I watched Dominic Rossi—the ruthless Underboss of the New York syndicate—drop everything the moment his phone buzzed with another crisis from Sophia. A panic attack. A sleepless night. A lie. I was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish, but I was never his priority.
So I chose myself.
Now he’s tearing the city apart trying to find me. But I’m already gone—building a new life with a job that’s mine, an apartment that’s mine, and a name that doesn’t belong to him. The girl who waited in that penthouse is dead. The woman who walked out isn’t looking back.
When Dominic finally corners me, I see the cracks in his armor. He says he’s sorry. He says he loves me. He says he finally understands.
But some words are too late, and some promises can’t be fixed.
He made me guess for a year. Now it’s his turn to wonder if I’ll ever come back.
A heart-wrenching, standalone mafia romance about a woman who refused to be second choice, and the man who learned too late what he’d lost. The Forbidden Mate: Claimed By My Ex's Alpha Uncle
Werewolf After four years of playing the perfect girlfriend, my wealthy boyfriend publicly humiliated me for a rich heiress.
He sneered that I was just a poor Omega who couldn't survive without his money.
"You're not going anywhere without my permission."
I didn't cry or beg. I simply packed my single suitcase, blocked his number, and walked out into the night to reclaim my life.
That same evening, I ended up saving a dangerously handsome stranger bleeding out in a dive bar restroom.
I thought I had finally escaped that toxic world to focus on my career as a top heart surgeon.
But a week later, my ex's grandmother suffered a massive heart attack, and his desperate family dragged me back to the hospital to save her.
After the grueling surgery, my ex's mother tried to force us back together, while my ex glared at me with pure contempt.
I was about to reject them all when the terrifying Alpha King-my ex's ruthless uncle-stepped out of the shadows.
My blood ran cold. His piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. He was the bleeding stranger from the bar.
I thought he would simply thank me and let me walk away.
"From this moment on, Dr. Freeman will reside at the Manor."
He didn't ask. He commanded it in front of the entire family, completely ignoring my ex's shock.
Before I could even protest, his men were already at my new apartment, packing up my life.
I had just escaped my ex's gilded cage, only to be trapped by the King himself. Rising From Ashes: The Assassin Bride's Comeback
Werewolf Today was my wedding day, a political marriage to the powerful Alpha, Caleb Burke.
But on my wedding night, I woke up to find my new husband and my illegitimate half-sister, Dahlia, tangled together in my bridal bed.
Instead of an apology, Caleb sneered and ordered me to stay quiet so I wouldn't ruin his mood.
Dahlia clutched the sheets, putting on a fake, tearful performance to frame me as a hysterical madwoman.
To make matters worse, my stepmother had laced my wedding champagne with a potent aphrodisiac, plotting to completely destroy my reputation so Dahlia could take my place.
Even my own father was in on the cruelty, perfectly willing to sacrifice my dignity to protect the family name while they secretly drained my dead mother's dowry.
The original Anja lived a life of quiet suffering, swallowing every insult, only to be betrayed and pushed to her death by her own blood on her wedding night.
Why did her family treat her worse than a stray dog while treating a bastard daughter like royalty?
But they didn't know the weak, timid Anja was already gone.
I, a top-tier assassin from another world, opened my eyes in her pathetic body.
I grabbed the silver letter opener from the nightstand and pressed it against my cheating husband's throat.
"I suggest you file for an annulment by sunrise," I smiled coldly, officially starting my revenge. Too Late: The Don's Queen Is Not Me
Mafia For five years, I ruled the city's underworld as the Underboss, yet I hid in the shadows for Serena. I kept our relationship a secret because the blood on my hands was a source of shame to her.
When a family mandate forced me to take a blood oath of marriage, I hoped she would finally accept my name. Instead, I discovered she had commissioned a solid gold signet ring—not for me, but for Leo, a twenty-two-year-old rookie associate.
She had abandoned me on our fifth anniversary to flaunt her bond with him in Vegas. When I confronted her, she introduced me to her friends as nothing more than her brother's low-level lackey to maintain her clean image. She crushed the gold-leaf wedding invitation I offered her and threw it on the floor.
"You let the old men pull your strings. You’ll never be a true Boss."
Her mocking words echoed in my head. I had compromised my very nature, offering her the keys to the city three separate times, only to realize I had wasted my loyalty on a vain, cowardly girl who lacked the spine to stand beside a Don.
The grief in my chest withered and turned to ash, replaced by the cold, ruthless clarity of my station.
I burned every hidden memento of our affair, permanently blocked her number, and publicly announced my marriage to Elena Romano, the lethal daughter of the Consigliere. Escaping My Cold And Jealous CEO
Romance For five years, I was Barron Santana's elite bodyguard and loyal shadow. I stood between him and bullets, giving him my youth and my entire heart.
But last night, the CEO announced his engagement to a flawless socialite on national television.
Heartbroken, I got blackout drunk and ended up crashing on the couch of Cassidy Gross, a billionaire tech CEO who saved me from a bar creep.
When I showed up late to work, Barron locked me in his freezing office. He pinned me against the glass, smelling Cassidy's cologne on my clothes.
"Are you already looking for your next meal ticket?"
He snarled the words, treating me like a cheap whore. When I defended myself, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his fingers, acting as if my very touch contaminated him.
Then, he coldly ordered his assistant to draft my termination papers.
Five years of risking my life for him, thrown away like garbage just because of his twisted ego.
Devastated, I ran out and collapsed in the hallway, sobbing uncontrollably until a kind coworker gently pulled me into his arms to comfort me.
I didn't know Barron had followed me out.
Seeing me clinging to another man, his legendary control completely shattered, replaced by a dark, violent possessiveness.
But it was too late. I was done playing his obedient dog, and it was time to take Cassidy up on his offer. The Pop Queen's Ruthless Billionaire Fan
Romance I was at the peak of my pop music career, breaking box office records while secretly enduring the nightmare of being my Boston family's forced bone marrow donor.
I thought my boyfriend and producer, Caleb, was my only safe haven.
That was until I saw the custom Rolex I bought him on the wrist of his new artist, Isla.
A quick investigation revealed he wasn't just cheating on me; he was siphoning millions from my accounts and forging my signature to steal my luxury endorsements.
To get rid of me without backlash, Caleb leaked a maliciously edited video to TMZ, framing me as a violent psycho.
The hashtag demanding my cancellation trended worldwide within minutes, and my sponsors started dropping me.
At an elite Malibu gala, Caleb paraded Isla around, playing the abused victim and threatening to blacklist me from the industry.
Isla even fake-cried and threw herself to the ground, accusing me of pushing her out of jealousy.
"If you throw a tantrum here, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every studio in this town."
I had given him my heart and my resources, only for him to try and drain me dry before tossing me to the wolves.
Did he really think I was just a fragile pop princess who would cry and beg for mercy?
With the unedited footage handed to me by a terrifying Wall Street billionaire who suddenly took an obsessive interest in me, I put on my blood-red couture gown.
I walked straight into that gala, kicked Caleb into the infinity pool, and threw the felony fraud lawsuit directly at his wet face. Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game
Billionaires I stood before the double doors of the master suite, my hand hovering inches from the polished brass. As a surgeon, I was trained to steady my heart before a cut, but the silence in the Alexander estate felt like the heavy, oppressive pause that always preceded a scream.
I pushed the mahogany door open to find my fiancé, Authur, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with a woman named Jasmine. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a floral perfume that wasn't mine—a brutal reality check just twenty-four hours before the merger meant to save my family from total ruin.
Authur didn't look guilty; he looked amused, coldly telling me to close the door because I was letting in a draft. When his parents unexpectedly arrived, I was forced to hide his mistress and pretend our "intensity" had ruined the room, donning his discarded shirt to look disheveled just to protect the Lawrence family stock price.
The humiliation only deepened on our wedding morning when Authur issued a sadistic ultimatum over the phone. "Wear your scrubs to the altar—the ones covered in blood—or I'll watch your father's company go belly up by lunch." He wanted to turn our wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral into a public execution of my dignity.
I walked down the aisle in shapeless navy cotton and crimson stains, enduring the horrified gasps of the elite who labeled me an "insane gold digger." Authur stood at the altar, reeking of whiskey and malice, certain he had finally broken me and turned my professional oath into a circus act.
But as the priest began the vows, I looked at the man who thought he owned me and realized I wasn't his victim—I was his surgeon. I had the footage of his debauchery ready to play for the world, and as we shared a punishing, hateful kiss for the cameras, I knew the real war had only just begun. Reborn To Reign: Choosing The Monster Over The Prince
Mafia 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." The Price Of A Mafia Queen
Mafia My marriage to Marco Ricci was a contract signed in blood, a promise to unite the two most powerful families on the East Coast. He was my future, the king chosen to rule beside me. Everyone said our union was destiny.
But he came home smelling of cheap perfume and another woman's lies. It was the scent of Angelia, the fragile orphan his family had taken in, the girl he swore he protected like a sister.
I followed him to a private club. From the shadows, I watched him pull her into his arms and give her a hungry, desperate kiss—a kiss he had never given me. In that instant, my entire future shattered.
I finally understood the whispers from his men that I was just a political prize, while Angelia was their true queen. He wanted my empire, but his heart belonged to her.
I would not be a consolation prize. I would not be second to anyone.
I walked straight into my father's study, my voice as cold as ice. "I'm calling off the wedding."
When he protested, I delivered the final blow. "I will uphold our family's need for an alliance. I will marry Don Dante Valentino."
My father's whiskey glass shattered on the floor. Dante Valentino was our greatest rival. The Call That Ruined Me
Billionaires The world was a blur, not of neon, but of fear, as I made a frantic 911 call after witnessing a horrific car crash involving social media influencer Chloe Stone.
I thought I was doing the right thing, saving a life, but that single phone call destroyed mine.
Chloe' s ruthless tech-mogul brother, Liam Stone, twisted my act of good Samaritanism into an act of malicious ruin, systematically dismantling my career and coercing me into a horrifying marriage contract.
His demand was simple: provide him an heir to secure his family' s legacy because his sister was "broken."
I became his prisoner, my body and future no longer my own.
During a coerced fertility procedure, everything went horribly wrong; I woke up in a hospital bed to the devastating news that I' d needed an emergency hysterectomy-I could never have children.
The one thing he forced me into, the one purpose I was meant to serve, was now impossible, violently taken from me.
Liam, enraged by my "uselessness," dragged me home to humiliate me further, demanding I play the grieving wife at a public gala despite his own role in my suffering.
But as I stood on that stage, forced to perform my pain, a piece of something snapped inside me.
I had lost everything, but I would not let him break my spirit entirely.
I looked him dead in the eyes and refused to give him the performance he craved.
I would expose his lies, reclaim my narrative, and start fighting back to survive. Love Lost, Self Found
Billionaires The invitation sat in my hand, a gilded lie addressed to "The Chen Residence," leading me into a lavish hall humming with triumph.
On a giant screen, my husband, David Chen, was hailed as a visionary billionaire, the man behind Genesis Inc.-a stark contrast to the humble app developer who used to struggle for our rent.
My mind reeled as I remembered selling my grandmother's treasured necklace, donating every penny of my art money to his "struggling startup," and watching him feign humility while I slaved away at three jobs, my dreams gathering dust for ten years.
Then, I saw her: Emily Hayes, his COO, his collegiate sweetheart, their public smiles melting into an intimate embrace as I overheard her murmur, "She' s still useful," and David dismissively add, "The story of my 'struggle' is good for PR."
My stomach churned-my entire married life a calculated performance, my sacrifices the fuel for his betrayal, leaving me with nothing but raw hands and a shattered heart.
The truth hit me like a physical blow: he hadn't just taken everything; he had laughed while doing it, while I counted pennies in our hovel as he built an empire with another woman.
Back in our cramped apartment, memories flooded back of his manufactured poverty, the cruel deception surrounding my miscarriage, and his chilling inaction as my father died, money he had all along.
The final insult came in a lavish penthouse suite where David and Emily, dripping with feigned concern for his "debt," demanded I kneel and then crawl before them, a twisted game designed to bleed me dry of dignity.
My fury finally broke through the numbness as David, mask discarded, grabbed me, warning, "You're not going anywhere. You'll do as you're told."
Then, Emily slapped me, showering me with hundreds of dollars, sneering, "Pick it up. Isn't that what you're good at? Scrabbling for scraps?" as David watched, complicit.
His final betrayal arrived with Emily, wearing my deceased mother's sacred jade bracelet, stolen by David, prompting me to lash out and her to feign injury.
He believed her instantly, his eyes pure hatred, so I grabbed a plate shard, dragging it across my own arm-a desperate, bloody truth in their world of lies.
Abandoned, bleeding, and aching for justice, I made a choice: there would be no more lies, no more victims, only the chilling dawn of revenge. The Price of Familial Betrayal
Modern The front door of my childhood home opened, and my mother' s face soured.
"Sarah." Her voice was flat, holding no warmth. "What are you doing here?"
I' d stopped by, thinking it might bridge the endless chasm between us. Instead, another demand was already forming in her eyes, even before I stepped inside.
For years, I was their bank. I paid Mike' s overdue rent, his credit card debt, even their mortgage-a mortgage only high because they' d refinanced to bail him out yet again. My entire adult life had been spent cleaning up their messes, while they praised my brother, Mike, the "heir" who hadn' t worked a steady job in a decade.
Then, my father gathered the family and announced his updated will: everything-the house, the family business-would go solely to Mike. My years of sacrificing, of financially propping them up, were dismissed as merely "my duty as a daughter." "You' re just a daughter," he' d hissed, "Your only duty is to support your family."
The injustice burned, yet it wasn't the first time they' d declared me less for being a girl. But this time, watching my brother' s smug, triumphant grin, something inside me finally snapped.
"Fine," I said, my voice calm, but filled with a resolve they' d never heard. "From this day forward, you won' t get anything from me." I walked out, leaving their shock and fury behind, finally free. When Forever Crumbles
Romance For ten years, my life was a dedication, a detailed blueprint for his Broadway dreams, meticulously built with every dollar from my three jobs, every hour as his unpaid assistant.
Our tenth anniversary was approaching, but a strange dizziness sent me to a clinic where I received a devastating diagnosis: a rare, aggressive illness, with only a month left to live.
I rushed home to tell the man I sacrificed everything for, only to find a pair of unfamiliar red stilettos discarded by the door and a woman' s bright laughter echoing from our bedroom.
He emerged, annoyed by my early arrival, while his starlet mistress, Scarlett, wrapped in our bedsheet, smirked triumphantly, reducing me to a forgotten piece of furniture in my own home.
His cold dismissal, "It's not a good time. We need to talk later," shattered something inside me, confirming I was nothing more than a tool, malfunctioning at the most inconvenient moment for his career.
Later, from a borrowed couch, I heard him on the phone, his voice tender for her, then contemptuous for me: "She's just being difficult… terrible timing. Don't worry about her. I' ll handle it."
The foundation of my entire world, built on his promises and my sacrifices, crumbled into a bitter lie.
But then, a twisted irony: the experimental treatment that could save me was fully funded by a grant awarded to his new Broadway production with Scarlett, essentially using my life's hope to fuel his infidelity.
As I walked away, clutching my old art portfolio, leaving the key behind, I heard him celebrating his "miracle," utterly unaware it was built on my death sentence.
My world ended, only to reveal the deeper, darker truth: the illness, the betrayal, his ultimate downfall – it was all part of a loop.
A loop that began when a shattered man, drowning in grief and regret, was given an impossible second chance, returned to the very moment we first met, desperate to rewrite our tragic ending. He Wanted 50/50, She Took 100%
Modern My six-figure tech career was just wiped out, leaving me, four months pregnant, vulnerable and reeling.
But nothing prepared me for the chilling "family budget meeting" called by my husband, Kevin, and his mother, Brenda.
They proposed a draconian 50/50 split of every expense, from utilities to groceries, and even my pregnancy and delivery costs.
Worse, they demanded I pay Brenda $2,500 monthly for her non-existent "household management" services, effectively turning her into a tenant I funded.
Then Kevin delivered the gut punch: any extra cost for a C-section would be "my body's issue," my financial responsibility alone. My stomach churned, not from morning sickness, but from the chilling realization that my husband and his mother saw me not as a partner or a parent, but as a walking ATM and a mere incubator.
The air in the room felt toxic. My entire being, my baby, my potential medical needs-all reduced to heartless figures on a spreadsheet.
How could the man I loved, the father of my child, and his own mother, demonstrate such ruthless greed and absolute disregard for my well-being? Every hidden red flag from our relationship now screamed in my ear.
They watched me, triumphant smiles on their faces, as I calmly agreed to their outrageous terms. But they had no idea. They wanted to play with spreadsheets? Fine. A cold, steel clarity washed over me. The deal wasn't off; it was just about to be rewritten – by me. Rising From Ruin: A Gold's Unstoppable Comeback
Billionaires My hand trembled as I prepared to call Kevin.
I had sacrificed everything for him, cutting ties with my tycoon father, Harrison Gold.
But finally, my father had agreed to meet Kevin, even considering funding his tech startup.
Peace and success felt within our grasp.
Then, a new Instagram post from Jess Vance, Kevin's business partner, popped up.
It was an ultrasound picture, captioned, "Love knows no timeline."
My blood ran cold when Kevin called moments later.
"Jess is pregnant," he stated flatly.
"It's mine," he continued, "and she' s Harrison Gold's daughter."
He demanded a divorce, claiming it was "just business" to secure vital funding.
He violently shoved me as I resisted, sending me crashing into a table.
A searing pain ripped through me as I crumpled, bleeding profusely.
I was losing our baby, and he just walked out, leaving me there.
The man I loved and gave everything for had brutally betrayed me.
He destroyed our marriage, our future, and our unborn child for a lie and for money.
How could he commit such a monstrous act, all for a fabricated identity for his mistress?
But he made one critical mistake: he provoked a Gold.
He dismissed me as unsupported, never realizing my powerful father's true reach.
My father, seeing my brokenness and the loss of his grandchild, vowed cold, absolute revenge.
This wasn't just a breakup; it was a war, and I, Sarah Gold, was about to rise from its ashes. When Love Turns to Ash
Romance My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don
Hei Baidong I was dragged back from the countryside by my father for one purpose: to be a sacrificial lamb.
He ordered me to marry the mafia Don Damien Valachi in place of my sister. Everyone in the underworld knew that this Don's brides never saw the light of the next day. My stepmother put on a fake smile and took my hand, calling it an "honor"; my sister hid behind her, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
I smiled coldly and held up two fingers: "Twenty million dollars. Now."
My father tried to play tricks, planning to take back the money from my trust fund after I died, but I had someone transfer every cent out before the wedding, leaving him a zero balance.
The next day, the wedding car pulled up to the Valachi estate. The butler ordered the driver to use the service entrance-it seemed my groom didn't think I was worthy of the front gate.
I got out and switched to an armored vehicle. I floored the accelerator, crashing straight through the estate gates. The gates shattered, and I didn't stop until I reached the main steps. I jumped out, the heel of my shoe crushing a broken iron railing, and shouted:
"The bride is here."
I looked up, scanning every window until my gaze stopped on one dark pane. I knew Damien was watching.
I brushed the dust off my skirt, raised my voice a notch, and smiled: "What, the Don of the Valachi family doesn't dare come out to meet his new wife?" Reborn To Ruin The Capo's Wedding
Felix Turner My mother is marrying a monster tomorrow.
I'm the only one who remembers.
My widowed mother was arranged to marry Lorenzo, a powerful Mafia Capo. I thought his status would finally bring us protection.
But on the third day of their marriage, Lorenzo moved his pregnant mistress, Camilla, into the estate's master suite.
She loudly claimed the child in her womb was the orphaned blood of a fallen soldier.
"A Capo of Lorenzo's stature is doing your mother a service," the Syndicate wives mocked me, demanding we accept our place.
Camilla systematically seized my mother's territory cuts and subjected her to endless psychological torture, while Lorenzo simply turned a blind eye.
When the baby was born, it bore the exact same distinct birthmark on its neck as Lorenzo.
Only then did we realize Lorenzo had used my mother as a convenient shield for his illicit affair, stealing my dead father's legacy and slowly draining our lives away.
I didn't understand why the Family's brutal justice allowed a thief to siphon funds under the guise of caring for a martyr's widow, leaving us to die in absolute disgrace.
Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day before the mob wedding.
Looking at my six-year-old hands, I grabbed the torn marriage petition and stole the secret trust documents.
This time, I ran straight to the heavily guarded gates of Don Salvatore, the most ruthless executioner in the city. You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi 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. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "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!" The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy 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. 99 Roses for the Underboss's Wife
Natala O'neal I was the brilliant money launderer for the most feared syndicate on the East Coast, and the fiercely loyal wife of its Underboss, Dante.
While I worked sleepless nights to build his underworld dominion, he secretly diverted my operations to fund a luxury club for his naive barista mistress.
When I confronted them and publicly exposed her, Dante didn't show a shred of guilt.
Instead, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire syndicate.
He draped his tailored jacket over his crying mistress to shield her, then turned his cold eyes on me.
"Apologize to her right now, or I will send every single soldier in your crew to the slaughterhouse."
He then weaponized the mafia's whisper network to destroy my reputation, painting me as a hysterical, paranoid woman just to legitimize his affair.
For years, I had blindly endured his psychological torture, believing my devotion would eventually earn his respect.
But looking at the brutal purple handprint on my cheek, and the ninety-nine dried bouquets of white roses he kept in the attic to carelessly patch over his toxic abuse, my heart finally turned to ice.
I didn't throw a tantrum, nor did I beg for his love anymore.
I left his apology blood diamonds on the table, drafted my mafia severance papers, and walked out of his territory for good.
This time, I would build my own empire, and let him drown in the ruins of his. Too Late To Beg, Mr. Mafia Don
Tango For two years, I played the perfect, silent wife to Damien Moretti, the ruthless Don of the New York mafia.
But tonight, he threw a thick manila envelope onto our nightstand. It was an annulment.
"Giuliana is back. She's dying, and I am done playing house with you."
His first love had returned, supposedly sick with terminal cancer. He demanded I sign the papers and leave the penthouse immediately so he could rush to her side. He looked at me with absolute disgust, expecting me to break down and beg. When she later staged a fake assassination attempt to frame me, Damien blindly believed her pathetic tears. He dragged me to the hospital, ready to unleash his murderous wrath on me for daring to touch his precious white rose.
I looked at the man I had shared a bed with for two years. He was supposed to be a powerful, calculating leader, yet he was completely blinded by a cheap liar and a forged medical report. He actually thought I was just a weak, greedy socialite who would quietly take the fall.
He had no idea that behind my docile mask, I was 'K', the digital underworld's most elusive hacker.
I calmly signed the papers, took his millions, and pulled the real security footage of his perfectly healthy ex.
At tonight's family dinner, I am going to shatter her fragile facade and make the Don choke on his own stupidity before I walk away for good. 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. 
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