Dionisio Wambold
15 Published Stories
Dionisio Wambold's Books and Stories
From Unread To Cherished: My Mafia Second Chance
Mafia I was just trying to plug my mafia Capo boyfriend's backup phone into the charger.
The screen lit up, and I accidentally swiped into his encrypted chats.
There, I saw a glaring red dot next to every single voice message I had sent him over the past five years.
Thousands of seconds of my deepest fears, my unwavering love, and my midnight pleas for help had been completely ignored.
Yet, pinned at the very top was a chat with his female subordinate, Sophie.
He had listened to every sixty-second complaint she made about her bitter coffee, replying with meticulous, tender care.
Two weeks ago, I almost died from a ruptured appendix on our bathroom floor.
I sent him desperate voice notes begging for a doctor, but he only typed a cold "Understood" and never came home.
But tonight, on our seventh anniversary, when Sophie cried over a burst water pipe in her apartment, he slammed on the brakes.
"Get out and call an Uber."
He abandoned me in the pouring rain and sped off to save her.
The first two years had been different. He used to listen. But somewhere along the way, he stopped.
For five of the seven years we were together, I had deceived myself, thinking his quick replies meant he was just too busy running the underground city to listen.
I couldn't understand how my life-and-death emergencies meant absolutely nothing to him, while her trivial office drama could move the most ruthless man in the city.
Realizing his love had died long ago, my heartbreak suddenly vanished, replaced by a chilling sense of relief.
I took off my diamond ring, packed a single black suitcase, and blocked him on every network.
"William, we are done."
I sent my final three-second message, and walked out the door to start a new life. Rejected For An Omega, Marked By The Alpha King
Werewolf For two years, I drained my own blood and emptied my private vaults to brew anti-silver potions, waiting for my mate Caleb to return victorious from the rogue wars.
But the day he finally came back, he brought a fragile, sweet-smelling Omega named Lily and publicly rejected me in front of the entire pack.
"I, Caleb, reject you, Serena, as my mate."
He claimed Lily had risked everything to gather healing herbs to save his life at the border, and he owed her his absolute protection.
He looked at my hands, which were covered in tiny, faded scars from forging his winter armor, with nothing but cold, bleak distance.
He even allowed this lowly Omega to steal my dead mother's sacred Luna veil for their upcoming mating ceremony, treating my bloodline's legacy like dirt.
He truly believed I was just a jealous, bitter woman, completely unaware that every potion and every piece of armor that kept him alive was secretly woven with my blood and my personal crest.
Instead of begging or shedding a single tear, I calmly accepted his rejection and picked up the golden-sealed royal decree from the table.
"I will accept the royal summons. I will go to the Royal City."
I left him to rot with his fake savior, ready to meet the Lycan King and awaken the terrifying power of the hidden White Wolf. Killed by the Ones I Loved
Mafia I was the cherished heir of a powerful mafia family, fiercely protected by my brother, the Don, and my fiancé, the family's lethal Enforcer.
But on my eighteenth birthday, they publicly framed me for the federal crimes committed by Chloe, a destitute orphan I had sponsored.
They stripped me of my title and threw me into the syndicate's subterranean prison.
For three months, I endured brutal electrocution and torture. When I was finally released, crippled and starving, I walked into my bedroom only to find my fiancé entangled with Chloe on my sheets.
To secure their pity, Chloe faked a suicide attempt.
My brother and fiancé dragged me to the clinic, pinning me down to forcefully drain my blood into Chloe as my penance.
Even when the doctor exposed my arms, covered in horrific burn scars from the prison, my brother coldly ordered him to continue the transfusion.
My heart, already failing from the repeated electrocutions, finally gave out.
As my spirit drifted above my lifeless body, I watched the doctor reveal that the blood drain had killed me. I watched them uncover Chloe's bribery of the guards and my final, despairing voice memos.
The two most ruthless men in the city fell to their knees, howling in agonizing remorse, begging my corpse for forgiveness.
But looking at their tears, I felt absolutely nothing.
I smiled, turned my back on their worthless apologies, and stepped into the blinding white light, leaving them to drown in a hell of their own making. Captive Of The Ruthless Warlord Boss
Mafia Betrayed by my own uncle for a stack of hundred-dollar bills, I was drugged at the Miami airport and trafficked to a heavily armed mercenary compound in the Darien Gap.
Stripped of my dignity, I was scrubbed with industrial bleach and graded as an "A-class asset." I was supposed to be a gift for Axel Sterling, the ruthless warlord who owned the estate, but he took one look at our trembling line and coldly declared he had no interest in women.
To vent her frustration, the estate manager, Bea, decided to make my life a living hell.
She locked me in a pitch-black solitary cell, starving me for days. She dragged me out only to force me to watch runaway girls get torn apart by massive mastiffs and swamp crocodiles.
She wanted me completely broken and begging, a mindless toy ready to submit the moment the warlord returned.
Sitting in the freezing mud, covered in blood, I was pushed to the absolute brink of madness. I couldn't understand why I was being kept alive while the others were sold off to the cartels. Was it really just because I had recognized a fake 1792 colonial map in his foyer?
When Axel finally returned, Bea shoved me onto the burning asphalt, throwing an oil-stained rag at my face.
"Wipe them clean! Or I'll throw you back in the pit!"
She hoped my clumsy panic would trigger his extreme OCD and get me killed. But I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
Recalling my university antiquities restoration classes, I treated his mud-caked combat boot like a priceless 16th-century manuscript, perfectly lifting the dirt without a single scratch.
The warlord stared at my filthy, battered body, his dead eyes finally sparking with a dark, calculating interest.
"Stand up. Come inside." Ninety-Nine Heartbreaks, One Final Goodbye
Modern The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave.
At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety.
As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers.
"Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in.
That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission.
Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away. Rejected By My Cruel Fated Mate
Werewolf I was pregnant with the future heir of the Blackwood Pack, but my fated mate, Alpha Gavin, was nowhere to be found when sharp, tearing agony ripped through my swollen belly.
Instead of rushing to my side, he was in a luxury penthouse with his mistress, Piper.
When I desperately called his human number for help, it was Piper who answered the phone.
"I'm Piper. His future Luna."
Minutes later, I received a leaked audio file of Gavin promising to formally reject me the moment our pup was born.
Before the heartbreak could even set in, my armored SUV was violently rammed off the road by a massive truck.
It wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit paid for by Piper's pack.
I woke up in the clinic with an empty womb. My pup was dead.
Gavin didn't even show up. He just mind-linked the butler to say he was "too busy" to deal with my loss.
He let his mistress murder our child and treated me like disposable trash, assuming my grief would make me a weak, compliant victim.
He thought he could just bury my trauma and move on with his perfect new life.
He was wrong.
I faked my own death in a fiery crash, leaving him with nothing but my signed rejection papers and the bloody receipt proving his mistress hired the killers.
Now, armed with a new identity and untraceable wealth, I am stepping out of the shadows.
I am going to bankrupt their packs from the inside out and make my former Alpha watch his empire burn. The Forgotten Genius: Rising From Ruin
Modern I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a throbbing head and a memory as blank as the white walls. Before I could even ask who I was, my fiancé, Beckham, stormed in with my sister, Isamar, and ended our engagement with a look of pure disgust.
"Stop the act, Chanel," he sneered, accusing me of crashing my car just to hound him for money. "The accident won't save you this time. You're a pathetic gold digger, and you just lost your meal ticket."
The nightmare only deepened from there. My own mother disowned me over the phone, freezing my bank accounts and calling me a disgrace for "faking a suicide" just to get Beckham's attention. When I returned to the family estate to reclaim my legal documents, my mother slapped me across the face, and my brother, Liam, tried to beat me, treating me like a common thief in my own home.
Left with nothing but a black business card and a debt I couldn't pay, I fled into a rainy night on a stolen ATV. My adrenaline was crashing, and my hands shook on the handlebars as I rounded a sharp, wet curve. I lost control, skidding across the asphalt and smashing head-first into a luxury Maybach.
The man who stepped out of the car was none other than Duke Montgomery-the most feared, powerful man in the city, a "disfigured recluse" the tabloids whispered about in hushed tones.
I didn't understand why my own blood treated me like trash or why my sister was smirking while I bled in the mud. I was a stranger to my own past, discarded by everyone I was supposed to love, and now I owed a fifty-thousand-dollar repair bill to a man who looked like he could crush me with a single word.
But as I looked into Duke's cold, aristocratic eyes, something inside me snapped. I didn't beg for mercy. I stood my ground and offered a high-stakes negotiation.
"I will work it off," I told him, stepping into his car and choosing to walk straight into the lion's den to take back the life they stole from me. His Barren Lie, Her Shattered Womb
Modern For six years, I endured my husband David's family shaming me for my barren womb. I went through countless painful fertility treatments, clinging to his promises that we would one day have a child.
Then I saw the picture on his secret social media: David, his arm around my "wellness coach," Briana, her belly round with their "little miracle."
The confrontation was a nightmare. Briana shoved me, and I was left bleeding on the floor as David rushed her to the hospital. Later, my own family told me to accept the affair for the sake of my brother's medical bills, which David's family paid. David even slapped me for daring to call Briana a liar.
But the true horror came in a message from Briana. She gloated that David had been sabotaging my treatments all along. He had made me believe I was broken, just so he could replace me.
My hope turned to ice. I found them celebrating in a hotel suite. As David reached for me, I met his terrified gaze and threw myself down the grand staircase. My life was over, and I was taking them down with me. His Political Lie, My Shattered Love
Modern My husband, a rising political star, begged me to reconcile. I thought our love story was real. It was a lie, a public spectacle designed for his political gain and my systematic destruction.
On our anniversary, I found a group chat on his tablet. He and his mistress were laughing about how predictable I was, calling me a "naive fool" for believing his promises.
The cruelty escalated from there. He poisoned my food, publicly humiliated me at a charity auction that left me bankrupt, and even had me whipped in his family's basement as a twisted form of punishment.
The final blow came when I overheard him plotting my murder. He planned a "tragic hiking accident" at a remote cliff during a storm, a perfect crime to make me disappear forever.
But I turned his murder plot into my own escape. I faked my death and started over as a baker in a quiet town. A year later, he found me, haunted by regret, but his final act of redemption-and the true cost of my freedom-was something I never saw coming. Naked Truths:His Plan To Get Me
Billionaires For ten years, I, Chloe Davis, devoted myself to Ethan Stone, the elusive tech mogul.
I poured my life into supporting his ambitions, waiting for the day his guarded heart would finally open.
I truly believed that night, at the meticulously planned party, was our moment.
Then, Ethan walked in, not alone, but with Serena Vance, his fiancée.
The word hit me like a physical blow, tearing through every hope I' d ever held.
He then demanded I give him the engagement ring I' d designed, so he could propose to her.
He watched, cold and indifferent, as Serena and her friends stripped me naked in the courtyard, humiliating me in front of everyone.
I was left exposed, shamed, and utterly heartbroken, as Ethan stood by and did nothing.
How could the man I' d given everything to become such a monster?
Why did I waste a decade of my life on him?
As despair threatened to consume me, a familiar face from my past appeared, a beacon in the darkness.
Alex Chen, the quiet boy from my childhood, had come for me.
I chose him, breaking free from Ethan' s cruelty and leaving everything behind.
But just as I started to heal, I uncovered a shocking truth: Alex' s love was a cage, meticulously built on manipulation and deceit.
He had orchestrated my humiliation, using Serena to destroy Ethan, all to claim me.
Realizing I was a pawn in an obsessive game, I walked away from them both, determined to reclaim my life.
I packed a small bag and vanished, seeking refuge in a remote mountain town, ready to forge a new path where my fate was finally, truly my own. Beyond the Burnt Sugar: Her Sweet Revenge
Romance I was reborn on the day of the Scott Hospitality Innovator's Gauntlet, the air thick with burnt sugar and the scent of my past misery.
I won that competition, but instead of the grand prize, I gained a forced marriage to Ryan Scott, grandson of the powerful food empire patriarch.
My wedding day turned into a public spectacle when Ryan's socialite "true love" faked a suicide attempt, painting me as the villain who stole her life.
Years of icy marriage culminated in a nightmare: Ryan smothered our infant son, believing he was saving his precious Molly from my "theft," then murdered me.
My last thought was of my dying father, knowing he'd be next.
Now, I'm back, standing at the final challenge of that very competition, but this time, I' m not just winning; I'm orchestrating my freedom. The Ex Who Wouldn't Let Go
Modern Six years ago, I fled my hometown and the toxic shadow of my ex, Stella, rebuilding a new life far away with my loving wife, Maria, and our sweet daughter.
Returning for my high school reunion felt like a minor obligation, a chapter I thought was long closed.
But Stella, ever the master of drama, blindsided me by announcing her engagement to the very man she left me for, using the moment to publicly humiliate me.
I retaliated with a calm, pointed gift that shattered her grand announcement, but her obsession only escalated.
She ambushed my wife and me, hurled hateful insults at Maria, then shockingly, physically assaulted our innocent five-year-old daughter.
A cold rage consumed me as the woman who once broke my heart turned her venom on my family, framing me for assault when I protected my child.
Then the anonymous online attacks began, a vicious smear campaign against Maria and me that threatened to destroy everything I had built.
Was this simply her desperate revenge, or was there something more sinister behind her relentless malice?
I would not let her win; I set a trap, a public reckoning to expose Stella's lies once and for all and reclaim my family's peace. The Gilded Betrayal
Modern My life felt like a flawless painting: a thriving art gallery in SoHo, a visa to expand to Paris, and a husband, Ethan, whose grand gestures-even donating a kidney-painted him as the epitome of devotion.
But the hushed "whispers even in paradise" I overheard at the French consulate soon materialized into a sickening reality as unfamiliar perfume, a fuchsia lipstick stain, and a pair of lacy thongs pointed to a betrayal within my own home.
Ethan' s mistress, Chloe Vance-the unsuspecting Mark's sister and a houseguest who flaunted her presence-was brazen, openly taunting me and daringly sending me explicit videos of their affair, even boasting about being pregnant with his child.
The man who once swore eternal love and sacrificed his health for me had meticulously constructed a grotesque pantomime, his every tender touch a suffocating lie designed to gaslight me into insanity.
But the agony of betrayal solidified into a chilling resolve: I would not quietly vanish; instead, on our anniversary, I publicly forced Ethan to sign his divorce and transfer his fortune, setting the stage for his dramatic downfall and my own audacious freedom. The Colonel's Daughter's Revenge
Fantasy My stepmother, Eleanor, was about to ruin my life again, just like before.
A cream-colored envelope, sealed with the Vanderbilt crest, landed on our mahogany table like a death sentence.
This was it: the nightmare I' d already lived once, revisited.
Eleanor' s eyes gleamed as she declared the Vanderbilts wanted an 'alliance' – a marriage for one of us Miller girls.
I knew exactly what that meant: I was to be sold off to a powerful dynasty, just like in my previous life.
My father, Colonel Miller, was a hero overseas, out of reach, leaving no one to stop Eleanor.
They paraded my stepsister, Brie, first.
But when she inevitably feigned illness, Eleanor' s gaze landed on me.
My stepfamily, always eager to exploit my father's name, expected me to be their dutiful pawn, just as I' d been broken and discarded before.
They thought I was the same naive girl, easily manipulated and ready to sacrifice.
They were clueless about the searing memories, the clear roadmap of their treachery, I carried.
But this time, things would be different.
This wasn' t surrender; it was the first move in my own calculated game.
I wouldn' t just endure their schemes.
I would fight.
My foreknowledge was my ultimate weapon, and the game had just begun. You might like
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." 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. 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.
Reborn To Love My Outlaw Husband
Little Red Riding Hood "Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze."
Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair.
Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..."
When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel.
He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again."
I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?" 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. 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. Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him
SHANA GRAY I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain. Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride
Priority I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them. Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge
Lunacy Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart.
The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself.
Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth.
"Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die."
The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone.
Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs.
Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive.
But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth.
In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying.
Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin.
Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon.
When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom.
"The game starts now," she said coldly. 
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