Diversion
14 Published Stories
Diversion's Books and Stories
The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Mafia 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. Damaged Goods, A Priceless Return
Modern After a fire stole my family and my voice, my boyfriend Jermain promised to be my shield. I was the silent composer behind our band's success, fighting to speak again-for him.
Then I overheard him call me "damaged goods, a millstone around my neck."
His betrayal escalated. He let his new flame publicly humiliate me, then abandoned me-injured and deafened-in a storm, calling me a "liability."
The boy who promised to be my voice was gone. In his place was a stranger who saw me only as a burden he was tired of carrying.
So I vanished. Three years later, with my voice and hearing restored, I returned not as a victim, but as a celebrated artist. He's back, begging for a second chance, but he's about to learn that the "damaged goods" he threw away are now priceless. Seven Years, A Secret Family
Modern I took a bullet for my husband, Colt, a decorated Delta Force operator. The injury left me barren, but he swore I was all he ever needed.
Seven years later, I found him in a restaurant with another woman and a six-year-old boy who looked just like him. The boy called him "Dada."
My world shattered when I learned his family, his friends, and even my own father knew about his secret life. They all watched as he paraded his mistress, Chelsey, and their son, Jemal, in front of me. He even admitted I was just a "means to an end" for his family's legacy.
When Jemal went missing, Chelsey accused me of kidnapping him. Colt believed her. He locked me in our cellar for three days, a punishment for a crime I didn't commit. "He's not a bastard!" Colt roared when I questioned if the boy was even his. "He's my son! My blood!"
But his eyes darted away, filled with uncertainty.
As I stumbled out of the cellar, bruised and broken, my best friend arrived. "The divorce papers are filed, Em," she whispered fiercely. "It's done." I looked back at Colt, standing stunned on the porch. His empire of lies was crumbling, and I was finally free. Discarded Love, Found Happiness
Romance I stood just outside the glass patio doors, holding a tray of fresh towels. Tonight was a celebration of Coleton Barron' s full recovery, the tech world' s golden boy back on his feet after three years of my dedicated physical therapy.
But then, his ex-girlfriend, Charly Mack, appeared. When a stray splash from the pool hit her dress, Coleton shoved me aside to protect her, sending me headfirst into the concrete edge of the pool.
I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, only to see Coleton comforting Charly, who was faking tears. He didn' t defend me when she claimed we were "just friends." His mother, Esther Cotton, then sent me a text with a five-million-dollar check, telling me I didn' t fit into his world.
Back at his penthouse, Charly accused me of poisoning Coleton with soup and breaking his father' s cherished wooden box. He believed her, forcing me to drink the soup and leaving me to collapse on the kitchen floor. I ended up in the hospital again, alone.
I didn' t understand why he would believe her lies, why he would hurt me after everything I had done. Why was I just a temporary fix, easily discarded?
On his birthday, I left him a text: "Happy Birthday, Coleton. I' m leaving. Don' t look for me. Goodbye." I turned off my phone, dropped it in a trash can, and walked toward a new life. Sacrificed Son, Unbreakable Soul
Young Adult The email glowed on my screen, a full scholarship to MIT. A surge of pure joy, a feeling so unfamiliar it almost hurt. This was my ticket out, the thing that would finally make them see me.
But when I ran downstairs, laptop clutched like a holy relic, my family was gathered around my younger brother, Caleb, celebrating his acceptance to a local community college. Their banner read, "Congratulations Caleb!"
"I got in," I said, my voice softer now. "MIT. With a full scholarship." My father glanced at my screen, then back at Caleb, admiring a new, expensive watch. "That's nice, Ethan," he said, flat and dismissive. "But we're a little busy right now. It's Caleb's big day." My sister scoffed, "Always trying to steal the spotlight, aren't you?"
Later, my printed acceptance letter and plane ticket for orientation were torn to unrecognizable pieces in the trash. It wasn't an accident. It was a message. My mother waved it off, "It's just paper. Stop being so dramatic."
"Dramatic?" My voice rose, shaking. "This was my ticket to MIT! You destroyed it!" My father boomed, "Don't you raise your voice! You are upsetting your brother on his special night." Caleb smirked from behind him, admiring his new watch, a symbol of his victory.
A cold clarity washed over me. It had always been like this. My one tangible hope of escape lay in the garbage. They hadn't just thrown away paper; they had thrown away my future, showing me my dreams meant less than protecting Caleb from his inadequacy. I was a stranger in my own home, a perpetual villain in their narrative. Was I too ambitious, too smart? Was my very existence an inconvenience? My throat ached with a dry sob. I felt like those scraps-torn, discarded, worthless in their eyes. The Fiance Who Chose Poison
Fantasy The world snapped back into focus, not with the acrid smell of my own burning flesh, but the sterile scent of the ER.
Just moments ago, flames engulfed me as my colleagues stood by, fire extinguishers in hand, watching me die.
Now, I was whole, unscarred, alive.
Then I saw her: Dr. Emily Hayes, the newly arrived resident, her eyes wide and eager.
I knew that innocent smile hid poison. I had lived through it-I had died because of it.
Her first "prediction" came quickly: a critically injured patient whose life she calmly declared over.
Dr. Peterson, our attending physician, was furious, but her chilling words echoed when the patient died on our table, despite our best efforts.
Then came the second "vision" -an ambulance crash she foresaw, just as I volunteered to take the call.
My fiancé, Dr. Ryan Chen, the man I thought I knew, pulled me aside, telling me I was reckless and Emily was right.
He sided with her, not me, in front of everyone.
I saved that patient, defying her "prophecy," but then the ambulance Emily warned us about was found with cut brake lines.
And the patient I saved died, unexpectedly, of an aneurysm.
Emily' s twisted predictions found their way, solidifying her power and painting me as the one who defied fate.
She whispered, "As long as Sarah Miller is working in this ER, she puts everyone in danger. Her energy, it attracts disaster."
They all stared at me, their faces not with suspicion, but raw terror.
They had let me burn once.
Not again.
This time, I would expose her. Love's Obsession, Her Freedom
Romance My name is Ava Hayes, and according to the little gold-embossed placard next to the painting, I was the artist.
But tonight, my real title was "trophy," paraded at the Vance Gallery, a glittering cage built by Ethan Vance.
He' d bought my family' s gallery, swooping in like a vulture when my father' s business teetered on the edge of bankruptcy.
Then, my younger sister Lily got sick, a rare autoimmune disease with astronomical medical bills.
Suddenly, Ethan wasn' t just a bitter ex-fiancé; he was the only lifeline, holding Lily' s future-and mine-in his cruel hands.
He made me beg for it, forcing me into a contract: his "protégé," his grateful, reclaimed stray.
I was trapped, my art and my soul enslaved, all to save Lily and my father' s legacy.
He wanted to break my spirit, to own the one thing that had walked away from him.
Today, he pushed me too far, forcing me to play servant at his lavish party, publicly humiliating me.
He paraded Lily on his arm, giving her the diamond necklace I had desired, right in front of my face.
Watching Lily' s fragile adoration for him, her innocence twisted into a weapon against me, something inside me snapped.
If he wanted to destroy me, I would burn my own life to the ground and make sure he was standing in the middle of the fire with me. Frozen Heart, New Start
Fantasy The last thing I remembered was freezing to death in my garage, alone.
My fiancée, Jenny, had taken all our savings, not for us, but for her lover Mark Todd's son, Leo.
She didn't even seem sad when she found me, just annoyed my death inconveniently interrupted Leo's birthday plans.
I gasped, my eyes flying open to a warm morning sun in my own bed.
The date on my phone was a full year before my demise.
A second chance.
My old auto shop teacher called, offering a full scholarship to an automotive engineering program in California.
In my first life, I turned him down, sacrificing my dreams to stay with Jenny in our small Ohio town.
But this time, a cold, hard resolve filled me.
"I'll take it," I said, my voice firm and clear, my heart an ice block.
Just then, Jenny walked in, laughing with Mark and Leo, acting like they owned my house.
Leo, the spoiled kid, demanded I make him mac and cheese, and Jenny instantly defended him, whispering, "He's just a kid! Don't be so petty."
I watched her doting on them, making them dinner with practiced ease, completely ignoring me and my own cold meal.
Why did I let her walk all over me, drain my bank account, and destroy my future?
This time, I felt nothing but a powerful decision.
I was already gone. They just didn't know it yet. The Mother They Erased
Modern My world shattered when our first son, Noah, "died" after my C-section.
My husband, Ethan, seemed heartbroken, convincing me a new baby would heal our shared sorrow.
I truly believed he was my solace.
Then, at a prenatal visit, I overheard Ethan's chilling confession: "Noah is thriving with Cassandra."
My son was alive!
And our unborn daughter, Olivia, was also promised to his childhood sweetheart.
Ethan's grief was a monstrous lie.
My marriage was a cold, calculated deception; I was a mere incubator.
His "care" became suffocating control, revealing Noah's happy life with Cassandra.
The ultimate horror: he plotted a non-consensual hysterectomy during Olivia's birth to silence me permanently.
My tears turned to icy fury.
How could the man I loved steal my children, fake their deaths, and plan to mutilate me?
The profound injustice consumed my soul.
When Olivia was "born" and "died" in his vile narrative, followed by my forced hysterectomy, I refused to crumble.
Playing the grieving victim, I secretly honed a fierce resolve.
Amy Walker, no longer just a victim, was now armed with their dark secrets, ready to ignite their world. She Saved His Empire, He Broke Her Heart
Romance For five long years, I was Jane Doe, Alexander Sterling' s quiet, unassuming assistant, secretly working tirelessly to save his company from the brink of collapse. I poured my life, and even our family' s legendary Westbrook Star diamond, into the anonymous investment that kept him afloat, all for the man I deeply loved. Day in and day out, I remained by his side, hoping he would finally see past the "Jane" I presented and recognize the woman who sacrificed everything for him.
But then, Isabelle Vance, all wide eyes and soft sighs, arrived, and suddenly, I was invisible, my every effort unacknowledged, my devotion unseen. His attention, his genuine laughter, the warmth I once cherished, was entirely for her, the new favorite who simply had to ask. I watched silently as Isabelle and her cruel assistant mocked me, sabotaged my work, and ultimately framed me for a ridiculous attack, turning him completely against me.
In a horrifying public spectacle, Alexander, blinded by Isabelle' s lies, ruthlessly fired me, branding me a dangerous troublemaker without a second thought. Left bleeding on the sidewalk after his security guards physically coerced me out, my reputation was systematically shredded, every sacrifice I had made for him now spitting in my face. The ultimate betrayal left me numb, the years of silent devotion to a man who couldn't see me crushing my spirit beneath the weight of his callous disregard.
Wasted years, unacknowledged love, and now, public humiliation – the bitter taste of utter betrayal mingled with the cold drizzle on my face, solidifying my decision. Yet, a strange clarity settled over me as the five-year term for the Westbrook Star ended.
Jane Doe was dead, irrevocably gone. As the Westbrook Star returned to my possession, a cold, unyielding fury replaced the pain, signaling Seraphina Westbrook was finally coming home, ready to build a new life with the steadfast Ethan Hayes and leave Alexander Sterling to the bitter regret he so richly deserved. My Wedding Night, His Downfall
Romance The Hamiltons' garden party was a symphony of social graces, too sweet with expensive perfume and the forced laughter of people I barely knew. My fiancé, Captain Alex Hamilton, looked sculpted from a dream, charming everyone as usual. Our future, everyone believed, was perfectly laid out.
But something had been off. His phone always angled away, his eyes distant. Then, from the old conservatory, I heard voices drift– Lex' s and Bree Evans' . "She can't find out, Bree. Not about us, not about the baby," Lex whispered. Baby? My breath caught in my throat.
Bree whined about "their son," and Lex replied about securing "Sarah' s substantial trust fund" after marriage. Disgust rose hot and choking. He wasn't just cheating; he was planning to use my fortune to fund his entire secret life with another woman and his child.
My world tilted violently. The man I was about to marry, the hero everyone admired, was a vile, calculating fraud. This wasn't a mistake; it was a meticulously planned betrayal, a monstrous financial scam camouflaged as love. How could I have been so utterly blind to such cold, professional deception?
A sudden, cold calm settled over me. I walked back into the party's noise, slipped the gaudy engagement ring from my finger, and faced him. "I believe this belongs to you," I said, my voice clear. "Our engagement is off. I overheard you. About your son." His face drained. The fight was just beginning. I was going to marry Ethan Cole. The CEO's Betrayal Clause
Romance Our third anniversary. Olivia, CEO of AuraTech, championed integrity, given her father's public betrayal. She'd even insisted on an ironclad infidelity clause in our prenup – "my guarantee." Loyal to my Yale sweetheart, I flew to San Francisco, planning a perfect surprise.
But the surprise was brutally mine. Pushing her office door, I found Leo Maxwell, the obsessed artist she claimed to despise, half-dressed on her sofa, draped in my gift: her favorite cashmere throw. His insolent smirk confirmed my deepest dread.
Olivia rushed in, panicking to quietly usher him out, not horrified by his presence. She later kept that throw, carefully folded, reeking of betrayal. A love bite on her neck, secret messages, and security footage of their intimacy in our marital bed followed. Twice, she abandoned me in life-or-death situations, always choosing him.
The woman preaching integrity was a brazen, convincing liar. Her hypocrisy was a vile taste. My trust, shattered. I wouldn't be humiliated like her mother. Could her own "armor" against betrayal truly be my weapon now?
Cold, hard resolve ignited. This marriage, a complete lie. I retrieved the prenup: Section 3, Paragraph B – the infidelity clause. It was time for devastating consequences. I dialed Maya Sharma, Olivia's fiercest rival. My proposition would interest her greatly. The Reunion That Broke Me
Young Adult I was just an art student from Philly, trying to build a new life.
A small, hopeful spark ignited when Julian Vance, from prestigious Blackwood University, reconnected with me after years.
He seemed different, quieter, and even asked me out to a party.
But I never made it to that party.
Instead, I was ambushed in the school woods by Marcus, Kevin, and Dave – Julian’s friends – a night that became a blur of pain and terror.
And through my agonizing tears, I saw Julian himself, standing at the edge, watching.
Then, he walked away, joining them as they left me shattered.
Years later, the nightmare returned as Julian violently dragged me into his car.
I was held captive in a secluded lake house for months, enduring his baffling accusations and escalating abuse.
He tortured me, broke my leg, and chained me like an animal, claiming I’d betrayed his family and taunted his deepest secrets.
His sister, Olivia, joined the torment, kicking me, sneering, amplifying my suffering.
Even my desperate attempt to end it all was thwarted; they wouldn't even grant me that peace.
What unthinkable crime had I supposedly committed to deserve such barbaric cruelty?
What kind of twisted debt did they believe I owed, justifying months of physical and psychological torment?
How could the Julian who once seemed genuinely kind twist into this monstrous captor, especially when his friends were the true architects of my long-ago trauma?
My world was a vortex of agonizing confusion and terror.
Then, Julian's powerful mother, Eleanor Vance, offered an unexpected lifeline: marry Julian and be bound to him, or disappear forever with a new identity.
Without a moment’s hesitation, fueled by a visceral need for freedom, I chose to vanish.
I had to escape, at any cost. You might like
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.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." 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. 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. Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Tabbie Platt I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss
Jia Zhong My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin. 
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