Benjamen Ernst
16 Published Stories
Benjamen Ernst's Books and Stories
She Died Once: Now The Mafia Kneels
Mafia I was the Mafia Princess of the Wolfe family, engaged to Daniel Marino to unite our powerful syndicates.
But during a hit at a speakeasy, we were both gunned down.
As my chest was torn apart by a Tommy gun, I looked at my fiancé, expecting him to reach for me.
Instead, there was no despair in his eyes, only a twisted, selfish terror.
We both died on that floor, but the devil sent us back to the day of my hospital discharge.
Instead of finalizing our wedding, Daniel stormed into my father’s study.
"I won't marry Isabella. I want Celine."
He demanded to break our engagement, claiming he wouldn't be collateral damage in a Wolfe family war, and declared his true love for my sweet, orphaned adopted sister.
He thought shedding me would save his life, completely unaware that the assassination was orchestrated by his precious Celine.
In my past life, I didn't know she was a rat who sold our patrol routes to rivals and plotted my murder just to take my place.
If I hadn't died once, I would have believed her manufactured tears and comforted her.
But this time, I remembered everything.
I buried the vengeful woman I had become and let my face pale as I pushed open the heavy oak doors.
"Daniel? You... you want Celine?" I whispered, forcing a heartbroken tear to fall.
This time, I would play the fragile victim, just so I could orchestrate their absolute ruin. She Took The Millions And Left
Fantasy Caryn lay trapped beneath concrete slabs in the apocalyptic ruins, a steel rebar pinning her down, the pressure unbearable.
Her fiancé, Ford, knelt in the narrow gap above her, completely unharmed.
"Sorry, babe. It's a new world. Survival of the fittest."
He sneered, twisting the cap off their last bottle of purified water. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with a clean hand, and told her she would just waste it.
He had manipulated her into signing over her uncle's house-her only defensible shelter-just to sell it for cash.
Now, as a violent aftershock made the rubble groan and shift, Ford scrambled away without a single backward glance.
For five brutal years of starvation and injury, she had clung to him and her grandmother's antique locket, only to meet her end betrayed and full of agonizing regret.
Why had she been so foolish to trade her survival for a lie?
A gasp of frigid air flooded her lungs, and her eyes flew open to a smooth, white ceiling.
She wasn't in the dusty ruins; she was in her pristine silk bed sheets.
She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she stared at the date on the screen.
It was exactly thirty days before the world would crack apart.
She looked at the silver locket in her hand, a diamond-hard rage crystallizing in her chest.
This time, she would activate its secret, and she would strip Ford and his family of everything before the apocalypse even began. Death Of A Marriage, Birth Of Revenge
Modern My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other. The Ruined Heiress's Dark Contract Marriage
Romance At her grand engagement party at the Plaza Hotel, Elsie Phillips thought she was the happiest woman in the world.
Until a high-definition video of her being pinned down by a strange man in a hotel bed was suddenly broadcast on the ballroom's massive screen.
Her fiancé, Kelvin, violently ripped his arm away in revulsion. His mother marched on stage, slapped Elsie across the face, and publicly canceled the wedding.
Her "sweet" cousin Belle dug her nails into Elsie's arm, whispering that she looked exactly like the cheap slut she was. It was a vicious setup.
Chased into the freezing rain by blinding tabloid cameras, Elsie hit rock bottom. But the nightmare was just beginning.
An encrypted phone left by her late father suddenly rang, revealing a terrifying truth.
Her parents' fatal car crash three years ago wasn't an accident. It was murder, bought and paid for by her uncle Fenton, who had since stolen her family's entire corporate empire.
When Elsie tried to fight back, Fenton's guards locked her in a dark room. They forced her into degrading sheer lace, planning to sell her to a sadistic Wall Street psychopath for fifty million dollars.
Standing on the edge of a second-story balcony, shivering in the freezing wind, Elsie's eyes burned with blinding hatred.
Her parents were murdered, her legacy stolen, and her reputation dragged through the mud by her own blood. Was she really going to die here, completely ruined?
Just as she let go of the railing to jump, a convoy of black armored SUVs smashed through the estate gates.
Arthur Michael, the most ruthless billionaire in the country, caught her in his arms. He wrapped his custom jacket around her trembling body and handed her a fifty-page prenuptial agreement.
"Marry me." He commanded, his eyes completely cold. "And I will help you send every single one of them to hell." Married To The Comatose Mafia King
Mafia I stood before the altar of the grand gothic cathedral, about to marry Julian Moretti, the grieving adopted son stepping up for the comatose Don.
To the hundreds of mafia men behind us, it was a dutiful wedding. But I knew the horrifying truth.
Julian and his pregnant mistress, Clara, had orchestrated a brutal plot to steal my dowry and secure his place as the next Don.
In my past life, I was completely blind to their betrayal. Julian trapped me in our apartment and set it ablaze.
I could still feel the blistering heat of the fire. I could still hear my mother’s agonizing screams and my little brother Antonio’s desperate coughing as the smoke filled our lungs.
My entire family was burned alive just so Julian could swap the brides and put his whore in my place.
I died in pure agony, filled with hatred and despair, wondering why I had trusted a monster.
God hadn't saved me from those flames. The Devil had.
And he sent me back to this exact moment at the altar.
"Do you, Isabella Rossi, take Julian Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked.
Julian reached for my hand with a sickeningly gentle smile.
I didn't give it to him. I tore back my lace veil and turned to face the crowd.
"You are mistaken, Father," I said, my voice like ice. "The man I am bound to marry is your Don. Damien Moretti." The Jilted Bride's Secret Mafia King
Mafia Standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, I waited to marry my wealthy fiancé in front of three hundred of New York's elite.
But right before the vows, my phone vibrated in my bouquet. It was a text from my groom: he was backing out because my maid of honor—my supposed best friend—was pregnant with his child.
Before the shock of this double betrayal could even settle, his mother dug her manicured claws into my arm and publicly humiliated me.
"A woman who can't even attract her own man, how is she worthy of the Doyle name?"
She mocked my background, calling me a worthless orphan who only knew how to draw blueprints, turning my broken heart into a public execution of my dignity.
The terrified girl inside me vanished, replaced by a dark, burning rage. I didn't understand why I had to let this arrogant family step all over me while they played the innocent victims.
I yanked my arm free, tore off my expensive lace veil, and walked straight to the podium to grab the microphone.
"The wedding is canceled. The groom is currently busy with my maid of honor."
I walked out of the church, leaving them in absolute shock. But as I stumbled onto the street, I fell right into the arms of Damiano Moretti—the exiled, dangerous mafia boss known as the Ghost, who sat in a custom wheelchair.
Looking into his cold, storm-gray eyes, I made a reckless, desperate deal.
"Marry me." Sold To The Devil: Escaping My Ruthless Husband
Modern I was standing in the center of the gallery, holding a glass of expensive champagne, when the screens behind me flickered and my life ended.
It was supposed to be an art unveiling, but the monitors shifted to fake footage of me handing evidence to the FBI.
My fiancé, Ethan, looked at me like I was a sick dog that needed to be put down.
My father slapped me across the face in front of everyone, disowning me to save his own skin.
That was when Luca Vitti, the city’s most dangerous man, stepped in.
He cleared the room and took my hand.
I thought he was saving me.
I didn't realize he was just collecting a new pet.
I was locked in his estate, isolated and terrified.
Then, my healthy mother suddenly "died" of pneumonia in a Vitti clinic.
Days later, I saw Luca’s frail stepsister, Clara, breathing easily for the first time in her life.
She had my mother’s lungs.
I became nothing more than a breeding vessel.
When I fell pregnant, I overheard Luca and Ethan planning my death.
"Once the kid is cut out, she's a loose end," Luca had said.
They were going to kill me and give my son to the woman who stole my mother's breath.
I couldn't let that happen.
So, I staged a tragedy.
I induced labor in secret, hid my living son, and placed a fake corpse in the crib with a note: The Vitti Legacy.
I escaped while they mourned.
Five years later, Luca finally found the doctor’s confession.
He learned that Clara had orchestrated everything.
He opened the velvet box I left behind and realized it was empty.
Now, he knows I didn't kill his son.
I saved him from becoming a monster like his father. Return From Grave: Reclaiming My Betrayed Heart
Modern I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die.
My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey.
Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey.
When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack.
As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible.
"You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying."
Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone.
Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again." My Empire, My Son, My New Love
Modern While I was fighting for my life in the delivery room, my husband was on the front page of every tabloid, caught in a scandalous affair.
He never came to see me or our newborn son. Instead, he whisked his actress mistress away to a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, dismissing his betrayal as a mere "business arrangement."
When his mistress brazenly appeared in my home, she taunted me, claiming my husband wished I had died in childbirth. Then, she revealed a paternity test claiming my son wasn't his.
My husband believed her. He believed the lies of the woman who secretly snuck into our nursery to pinch and bruise our helpless, sleeping baby.
He took her side, shielded her from me, and even tried to take my son away to raise with her.
I had lost my parents and my brother, and now I was losing everything else. I was an orphan, a betrayed wife, and they were trying to take the only thing I had left: my child.
But they underestimated me. They thought Kane Powell was the most powerful person I knew. They were wrong. His Betrayal, My Steel-Legged Return
Modern The first time my husband tried to have me killed, he used our eight-year-old daughter as the bait.
After I discovered his affair with a woman whose college tuition I was paying, he staged our daughter's kidnapping to lure me into a trap.
I woke up in a hospital, my legs amputated, my womb removed, a permanent cripple.
My husband, Eugene, played the part of the grieving spouse perfectly, promising police he' d find the monsters responsible.
But I overheard him whispering to our daughter in the hallway.
"You were so brave," he praised her. "You made Mommy believe you were in danger. It was the only way to stop her from leaving us."
Her reply destroyed what was left of my soul.
"I like Brenna better anyway. She's prettier than Mommy."
They thought they had broken me, leaving me a shattered shell of a woman. So I let them believe it. I faked my own suicide and vanished. Now, three years later, I've returned. Standing on two legs of polished steel, I'm the CEO of a robotics empire, and I'm here to burn their world to the ground. Reborn: A Husband's Vengeful Love
Modern The last thing I remembered was the freezing cold of a lonely alley, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey, and the image of a newspaper: a glossy photo of my ex-wife, Sarah, and her new husband, Mark Thompson, cradling their perfect baby.
My final breath fogged in the winter air as I died with the brutal truth ringing in my mind.
I had failed them-my son, Leo, and my mother, Susan, both lying in fresh graves, victims of Sarah' s abandonment and my naive loyalty.
For four years, I toiled, clinging to her empty promises, while they withered away from neglect and poverty in our crumbling home.
I' d even sold a kidney to save them, but the money came too late; my mother starved, and Leo succumbed to a preventable fever.
At their funeral, Sarah returned not to mourn, but to accuse, to divorce, and to flaunt her new life with Mark-a life built on our ruins.
Then, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through me.
I wasn' t in an alley, but on the cold, splintered floorboards of my own bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sickness.
My heart hammered as I saw them: my mother, Susan, frail but breathing, and Leo, flushed with fever but alive, nestled in his crib.
A quick glance at the calendar confirmed it: three days before their deaths.
The raw grief, fused with a cold, hard rage, ignited a fire in my gut.
No more silence.
No more waiting.
"Mom," I declared, my voice steady, "We' re leaving. We' re going to find Sarah."
I had a second chance, and this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay. Wife of the Rock God
Romance I gave up my music journalism career, piece by piece, to build Nathaniel Roberts' country music empire.
He was my college sweetheart, my golden boy, the man I poured my soul into making a star.
Then, his new pop-country princess co-star, Gabrielle, called me, her voice sickeningly sweet, telling me Nathaniel' s credit card was maxed out.
She was in our bed, and I heard the rustle of our expensive sheets, the ones I picked out.
I didn' t scream, I didn' t cry.
I simply packed everything he ever bought me into garbage bags and told him to get out.
He laughed, calling me dramatic, but agreed to a divorce, assuming I was after a final payday.
He gave me a massive settlement and an iron-clad NDA, smugly believing he' d bought my silence and dignity.
Months later, his manager called, oozing fake sympathy, inviting me to a reality show, "Second Takes," for "closure."
I knew their true plan: to make me look pathetic, clinging to him so he could gently reject me, cleaning up his image after the cheating scandal.
They wanted me to be his public doormat, boosting his new duet with Gabrielle.
I sobbed into the phone, playing my part perfectly, swearing I missed him, begging to get him back.
But their elaborate scheme was about to backfire spectacularly.
They thought I wanted his heart, but I was about to go for his wallet, his freedom, and his entire career. Too Late, Ethan: The Comeback Queen
Romance My office air, thick with stale coffee and cheap air freshener, always reminded me of the dreams I built with Ethan.
We were supposed to marry in a month, invitations sent, a Vera Wang dress waiting, our Boston Harbor Hotel wedding booked.
But then, Ethan, my fiancé of ten years, looked at me with what he thought were "soulful" eyes and dropped a bombshell.
He was going to marry Sabrina, the scholarship intern my family' s foundation sponsored, to "save" her from a loan shark.
He expected my "good heart" to understand this temporary arrangement, this noble sacrifice for a girl he plainly adored.
I didn't cry or scream; the pain was a cold stone, but my face was calm.
I saw him then, not as the boy I' d known since prep school, but as a weak, pathetic stranger using a flimsy excuse for a dirty affair.
He had been counting on my blindness, my willingness to be a doormat.
My hands didn' t tremble as I pulled an identical invitation from my Hermès bag.
I slid it across his desk: an invitation to my wedding, to Matthew Lester, on the very same day.
His disbelief turned to a slack-jawed horror as Sabrina, his tearful damsel, stumbled in.
He instantly became her protector, glaring at me, accusing me of scaring her.
I simply walked out, leaving the invitation like a time bomb, knowing my humiliation was far from over.
The city' s elite whispered as he publicly chose her over me, his "powerful fiancée losing her grip."
But they didn' t know the truth: this wasn' t the end of me; it was the start of something new.
I tossed my family' s heirloom sapphire engagement ring into a recycling bin and typed my resignation to his company.
I knew Ethan would try to cling to me, or worse, retaliate.
What he didn' t know was that I was already steps ahead, ready to reclaim everything he thought he could steal. A Father's Unwavering Fight
Billionaires The quarterly earnings call had just wrapped, leaving me with the quiet hum of success as CEO of Apex Innovations.
My company was thriving, big but discreet, just how I liked it. All I truly cared about was getting home to my son, Leo, my everything.
Then, the school's number flashed on my phone. My heart always jumped when they called, but this wasn't the usual secretary.
It was Leo, his small voice shaking, "Dad, I got beat up at school!"
My blood ran cold. He explained the bully was Ethan Miller, who'd twisted truths, calling me a "freeloader living off Mom." At the school, anger warred with disbelief.
The principal and Ms. Albright, draped in a designer scarf I' d just bought my wife, blamed Leo, siding with Ethan and his arrogant father, Rick Miller.
Jessica was even worse. My own wife dismissed Leo' s pain as a "schoolyard squabble," defending Rick as an "important contact."
She then signed a "reconciliation agreement" that forced our bruised son to apologize, all to "protect our family image."
She prioritized appearances over her child.
Freeloader? Me? The CEO? The blatant bias, Rick's veiled threats, and Jessica's cold dismissal screamed betrayal.
What in God's name was really going on? This was more than a schoolyard fight; it was a deeply unsettling web of lies, and I was furious.
A cold, hard knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. This wasn't just about school donations.
That evening, I made a call to my most trusted executive assistant: "Sarah, I need everything you can find on Richard Miller and Jessica' s recent projects. Discreetly." The game had changed. And I would find out why. The Elite PMC Leader's Price: A Bargain at $9.99
Modern I was Ethan “Ghost” Riker, an elite PMC leader, engaged to Sophia.
My disciplined, trust-filled life felt stable, despite its dangers.
But a botched mission, leaving my best man critically injured, shattered that.
The culprit? Kevin, Sophia’s arrogant younger brother, whom I held accountable.
This decision would unearth a betrayal I never imagined.
The next morning, my secure sat phone buzzed with an alarming alert.
My full bio, deepest secrets, and safe houses were on the dark web for $9.99.
Too fast, too precise, too intimate – it pointed to Sophia.
Then, from the Walker estate, I heard her chilling laugh, boasting she’d listed me for pennies.
She confirmed I was a "tool," a "dog" who needed reminding of his place.
My blood ran cold, burning with rage, as she casually plotted my further humiliation.
Driven by disbelief, I walked into her trap: a desolate factory, a fake "safe house."
Drugged, helpless, I faced my bitter old enemies, orchestrated by Sophia and Kevin.
They beat me bloody, filming every degrading moment, leaving me for dead.
Each blow was agony, but the public humiliation was worse.
"Why, Sophia?" I rasped, as she knelt beside me, her perfume mixing with my blood.
Her whisper sealed my fate: "Because it's entertaining."
"This is what happens to dogs that bite," she purred, abandoning me.
How could she destroy me so meticulously, so coldly, after everything?
I refused to die her dog.
A stubborn defiance ignited in my broken spirit.
Against all odds, I clung to life, rescued by a loyal brother-in-arms.
They thought they’d killed the Ghost, but Ethan Riker was truly reborn.
The man who survived would be harder, colder, and ready to rewrite the rules. 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. Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don
Ebony Pete "You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down? 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?" My Bestie's Dad Popped My Cherry
Oye's Pen "You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?"
I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin.
"You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs.
"Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please."
"Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled.
"Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?
Bound By Vows: My Sleeping Mafia Husband
Zhen Xiang I wasn't marrying into the Falcone mafia because I was loved.
I was being handed over like payment.
My parents owed the Falcones a fortune, and I was the daughter they chose to sacrifice. On my wedding day, I was supposed to become the wife of Enzo Falcone, the golden heir of New York's most dangerous mafia family.
Then an anonymous message lit up my phone.
Want to see your groom? Go to the bridal suite.
I went.
I found Enzo on my wedding bed with my half-sister. Her dress was pushed up. My lace garter, the one meant for me, was wrapped around her ankle like a trophy.
And when the scandal exploded, no one blamed him.
His mother called me a lunatic. My half-sister cried pretty, poisonous tears. Then she revealed the final insult.
She was pregnant with Enzo's child.
They locked down the estate to silence me. They wanted me humiliated, obedient, and disposable. A ruined bride. A convenient scapegoat. A debt paid in flesh and shame.
So I gave them a show they would never forget.
I walked onto the balcony, set my diamond-studded veil on fire, and dropped the burning silk in front of every elite guest who had come to watch me be sold.
Then I went to the true matriarch of the Falcone family and made my own demand.
I would not marry a traitor.
I would marry Damien Falcone instead.
The dead grandson. The fallen Underboss. The legendary God of War.
A dead man could not betray me. A dead man could not touch me. A dead man could give me the power to destroy everyone who had tried to bury me.
At least, that was what I thought.
Until I learned Damien Falcone was not as dead as everyone believed. Jilted Fiancée? No, The Billionaire Heiress!
Luo Xi I hid my identity as the heiress of a top-tier wealthy family just to build a normal, quiet life with my fiancé, Jefferey.
We had just picked out our dream villa, but a sudden bank notification shattered my illusion.
The entire $7.8 million from our joint trust fund had been wired to a woman named Jessie Barr.
When I hacked into his synced tablet, the truth hit me like a truck. Jessie wasn't just a stranger; she was his secret lover.
They even had a four-year-old son who shared Jefferey's exact eyes.
"The money is in your account. Our future is secure now. I'll leave her soon."
Reading his messages to her, I realized my three years of devotion were nothing but a long con.
I was just the final "project" he needed to fund his real family.
He used my resources, my connections, and my money to build a life in the shadows with his true love, treating me like a naive piggy bank he could discard at any moment.
I had given up my absolute power for a man who fed me nothing but lies.
But Jefferey forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just some helpless woman he could ruin.
I calmly closed my laptop and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.
"Mom, I was wrong. I'm ready to accept the Romero family's marriage alliance."
It was time to gut his company and take everything he owned. 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. 
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