Dorine Koestler
18 Published Stories
Dorine Koestler's Books and Stories
Pampered By The Ruthless Mafia Boss
Mafia I was a top medical prodigy with a bright future and a loving fiancé, until my mother's heart failed and she desperately needed life-saving treatments.
But my own father refused to pay the $12,000 medical bill. Instead, my fiancé kicked me out of our shared home to marry my stepsister Sabrina, and my father used his money to buy her a brand-new Porsche.
I later discovered the horrifying truth. My father had deliberately framed my medical mentor, completely destroying my career, just to get a half-million-dollar payout from the Russian mob to clear his gambling debts. He traded my future and my mother's life for a luxury car and a lavish wedding for his stepdaughter. Left with absolutely nothing, I was forced to sell my silence and become a governess for New York's most ruthless mafia Don just to keep my mother alive.
Sabrina even sent me a cheap, scratchy bridesmaid dress, demanding I stand behind her at the altar to watch her marry my ex.
"You need to stand behind me in a cheap dress and watch me win. Because if you don't, Father will cut off your mother's life support."
They thought they had crushed me into the dirt, expecting me to be their submissive victim forever.
But they didn't know the terrifying mafia king had already handed me the irrefutable evidence of their crimes. On the day of the wedding, I threw that cheap dress in the trash, put on a custom black haute couture gown, and walked into the grand ballroom on the arm of the Don.
--- Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Mafia 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. Her Secret Shame, His Public Affair
Romance On my wedding night, my new husband, Jameson, was blackout drunk. My best friend of twenty years, Caren, texted me practical advice: give him honey water and let him sleep it off.
But just as he quieted down, he pulled me close, his breath hot on my neck. "I love you so, so much, Caren," he whispered. Then I saw it. A tattoo I'd never seen before, a single letter 'C' inked directly over his heart.
The next morning, my birthday, Caren showed up with a cake, her smile as sweet as poison. After one bite, my throat began to close. Peanuts. She knew I was deathly allergic.
As I gasped for air, Jameson's first instinct wasn't to help me, but to defend her. He stood between us, his face a mask of fury. "What is your problem with her?" he demanded, blind to the fact that his wife was suffocating in front of him.
I stumbled, trying to reach my EpiPen, but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back. "You are going to apologize to Caren right now!"
With the last of my strength, I slapped him across the face.
"I'm pregnant," I rasped. "And I can't breathe." The Love He Destroyed, My New Power
Modern After seven years together, I told my boyfriend, Jaxon, I was pregnant. I thought it was the beginning of our forever.
Instead, I found him at my prenatal clinic, comforting his secret, pregnant wife.
He called our life a lie, a "business arrangement." His family beat me, humiliated me, and locked me in a dusty attic with rats for a month, leaving me to starve while he took his wife to her appointments.
He promised me a future, a family, but chose to protect her and abandon our child. I was just an inconvenience to be discarded.
So when they finally dragged me to the hospital, I made a choice. I waited for him to arrive after the procedure, his face full of fake concern.
He saw the blood-stained sheets and his face crumbled.
"What... what have you done?" he stammered.
I smiled, my voice as cold and empty as my womb.
"I got rid of it, Jaxon. I aborted your baby." Pampered By The Ruthless Northern Warden
Mafia I waited eleven years to marry the Syndicate Underboss.
But on the final night of the Old Ways, Silas laughed with his men and announced he would never claim me.
Instead, he elevated his adopted sister, Serena, to his side.
He left me standing entirely alone at the ceremonial altar, letting the whole mafia family mock me with vulture‑like pity.
When I tore Serena's dress in a blind rage, he locked me in an underground fighting cage for his soldiers to jeer at, calling it a fair punishment.
His mother openly called me damaged goods, and Silas threatened to give my entire dowry and family territories to Serena if I didn't bow down and apologize to her.
For a decade, I endured his emotional abuse, only to realize I was just a convenient shield for his sick obsession with his sister.
My heart finally went completely dead.
I dropped his blood‑ruby engagement crest into the trash and burned eleven years of memories to ash.
Then, I invoked the ancient laws of severance right to his face.
"I'm breaking the arrangement."
When Alessandro, the lethal Warden of the North, arrived with an armored motorcade to claim me as his Queen, Silas finally panicked.
He chased my car, pounding on the glass with bloodshot eyes, begging me to come back.
I just looked at him with flat, dead calm and rolled up the window. The Ruthless Heir's Unwanted Obsessive Love
Modern Nina had one simple goal in this godforsaken novel world: to be killed in a fit of unrestrained rage so she could finally return home.
Her perfect target was her impulsive brother, Ryan. To push him over the edge, she publicly humiliated his lifelong crush, Ashleigh, in the school cafeteria, practically begging him to strike her down.
She stood there, covered in spilled food, eagerly waiting for the fatal blow that would end her misery.
But the blow never came.
Instead, Ryan accidentally overheard Ashleigh mocking him behind his back, calling him a mindless puppy. The revelation shattered his blind devotion instantly.
When Ryan finally looked back at Nina, his eyes weren't filled with the murderous fury she desperately needed. They were filled with agonizing, soul-deep guilt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking off his varsity jacket to cover her stained clothes.
Nina was utterly horrified.
The next day, he broke up with Ashleigh, started cutting Nina's steak for her at dinner, and secretly bought her favorite breakfast.
This twisted, sickening display of brotherly affection was a thousand times worse than his fists. Her perfect suicide plan was completely ruined.
Why was her chosen executioner suddenly acting like a devoted protector? How was she supposed to die now?
As the housekeeper announced the impending return of the family's cold-blooded true heir, a chilling new plan formed in Nina's mind.
It was time to target the real monster: Julian. The Don's Wife Was Never Helpless
Mafia I believed marrying Hudson Yale, the most ruthless mafia Don in Los Angeles, would keep my daughter safe.
That illusion shattered when he suspended me from a steel beam and ordered his men to whip me until my back bled.
My only crime was that my six-year-old daughter and I wore white dresses, a color exclusively reserved for his precious niece, Hazel.
While I was locked in a dark basement, Hazel tortured my little girl, forced her to jump off a concrete roof, and casually showed me the video of her death.
When I screamed in agony, Hudson didn't care. He kicked me down a flight of marble stairs just to protect Hazel.
Because Hazel was diagnosed with leukemia, he even issued a Don's Command for me to donate my bone marrow to save her.
When I secretly poisoned my own marrow rather than save my daughter's murderer, he allowed his doctors to inject me with necrotic toxins every single day.
I didn't understand why his blind loyalty to his niece meant my parents and my child had to die.
Why was I forced to sacrifice my own life and dignity for the monster who destroyed my entire world?
But Hudson made one fatal mistake.
He always dismissed my maiden name, Cole, as just a common civilian coincidence.
He didn't know I was actually the biological sister of Callan Cole, the terrifying Boss of the New York Cosa Nostra.
Wiping the blood from my mouth, I dialed my brother's encrypted number.
"Help me kill them all." The Betrayed Heiress's Vengeful Flash Marriage
Romance Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder." The Secret Genius Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge
Modern I spent three years playing the role of the perfect, invisible wife to Dillard Bentley, the billionaire heir of Manhattan. While he graced the tabloids with socialites, I stayed in the shadows of our penthouse, waiting for a man who treated me like a piece of furniture.
One rainy night, the facade finally shattered. Dillard came home smelling of another woman’s perfume, and I handed him the divorce papers he never expected. But before the ink could dry, a violent pain ripped through me during a family lunch, and I collapsed in a pool of blood on the pristine marble floor.
While I was being rushed to the hospital, Dillard’s mother dismissed my agony as a manipulative trick, and Dillard chose to believe her. He didn't follow the ambulance; he went to a gala to protect his mistress instead. I woke up in a cold emergency room only to be told I had lost the baby I didn't even know I was carrying. Because of the toxic "vitamins" his mother had been force-feeding me, my blood wouldn't clot, and I had to undergo surgery without a single drop of anesthesia.
I bit down on a leather strap, feeling every agonizing scrape as they cleared the remains of my child, while my husband laughed at my pain over the phone.
"Stop the drama, Erica. Tell her the divorce terms are non-negotiable. I'm busy."
He hung up, leaving me to scream in silence. I realized then that the man I had once loved was the same man who let his family poison me. The "vitamins" weren't supplements; they were a death sentence for my unborn child, and he didn't even care enough to show up.
Dillard thinks he’s divorcing a penniless nobody, but he’s about to find out that the world-renowned medical genius he’s desperate to recruit is the wife he left to bleed alone. I walked out of that hospital, threw my wedding ring in the trash, and reclaimed my true identity. Dr. N is coming to the global summit, and I’m not there to save the Bentley empire—I’m there to burn it to the ground. One Night With The Rival Alpha
Werewolf My mother had been dead for four years, and my father, the Alpha of our pack, was now a hollow shell controlled by his new wife, Marley. I was a ghost in my own home, watching from the shadows as they celebrated a wedding that felt more like my execution.
During the reception, Marley cornered me and demanded my mother's last heirloom-a blood-red ruby-to pay off her family's secret gambling debts. When I refused, her guards pinned me down, and in the struggle, the ancient stone hit the marble floor and shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.
Framed for grand larceny by my own stepmother, I fled to a dive bar and sought refuge with Caleb Sterling, a rival Alpha who radiated power and danger. We spent a night of soul-shattering passion that I was certain was our mate bond, but the next morning, he tossed an envelope of cash at me and called me a high-end escort. When the police arrived to arrest me, he simply stepped aside and watched them drag me away in handcuffs, cold and indifferent to my screams.
"Do what you have to do," he had told the officers, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
I was a fugitive, stripped of my title, and discovered I was carrying Caleb's child-a baby cursed by his bloodline to never survive the womb. I couldn't understand why my father had abandoned me to a monster, or why the man I was destined for had sold me out just to save his own reputation.
After a brutal ambush that left my only friend in a burning wreck, I stood at the border of the forbidden North. I clutched the jagged shards of my mother's ruby and looked the Northern Warlord in the eye, ready to trigger a war that would burn my father's legacy to the ground. 986 Nights of Betrayal
Romance For 986 nights, my marriage bed had not been my own.
My husband, Corbett Ewing, heir to a New York real estate empire, was haunted by a ghost, and that ghost' s sister, Ivana, was my tormentor. Every night, she' d scratch at our door, claiming nightmares, and Corbett would let her in, laying a spare duvet for her in our master bedroom.
One night, Ivana shrieked, pointing at me, "She tried to kill me! She snuck in while I was sleeping and choked me!"
Corbett, without a second thought, yelled at me, "Jenna! What did you do?" He didn' t even look at me for my side of the story.
Later, he tried to apologize with a macaron, my favorite pistachio. But it was filled with almond paste, to which I was deathly allergic.
As my throat closed up and my vision tunneled, Ivana shrieked again, claiming a panic attack over online comments. Corbett, faced with my dying gasps and her fake hysterics, chose her. He carried her away, leaving me alone to save myself.
He never came back to the hospital. He sent his assistant to discharge me. When I returned home, he tried to appease me, but then asked me to give my father' s last gift, my perfume organ, to Ivana for her "design studio."
I refused, but he took it anyway. The next morning, Ivana "accidentally" shattered a bottle of my father' s custom scent, the last physical piece of him I had.
I looked at Corbett, my hands bleeding, my heart shattered. He pulled Ivana behind him, shielding her from me, his voice cold, "That' s enough, Jenna. You' re hysterical. You' re upsetting Ivana."
In that moment, the last shred of hope died.
I was done.
I accepted an offer to be a head perfumer in France, renewed my passport, and planned my escape. Revenge: The Billionaire's Downfall
Romance For eight years, I was the girlfriend of New York's most untouchable billionaire, Dean Lee. To the public, we were a fairy tale: the brilliant, cold CEO who was utterly devoted to me, a simple artist he had plucked from obscurity. He built a fortress of luxury and safety around me.
But it was all a lie. On our anniversary, I overheard him with another woman. He called me a "decoy," a "shield" he used to absorb the threats and scrutiny meant for his real love, Karina.
His mask came off. He allowed Karina to humiliate me publicly, destroy my dead mother’s heirloom, and then, as punishment, had me force-fed soup made from my beloved cat.
His final "lesson" was to throw me into an underground fight club. As I lay beaten and bleeding on the canvas, I saw him in the VIP booth, watching with bored detachment as Karina laughed beside him. The eight years of protection weren't love; they were just maintenance on his human shield.
On the verge of death, I was rescued by his biggest rival, Brennen Finley. With my last breath, I gave him the secrets that would bring Dean's empire to its knees. In exchange, I asked for just one thing.
"Make Hayley York disappear," I whispered. "Help me die." Unwanted Wife, Unseen Torment
Modern Another wave of pain hit me, a familiar, gut-wrenching cramp.
I was bleeding again.
This was the tenth time.
Each time it happened, my husband, Liam Stone, would bring a woman home.
A woman who looked exactly like his first love.
Tonight was no different.
He stood in our bedroom doorway, a woman by his side he introduced as Maya, flatly stating, "She' ll be staying with us for a while."
His eyes never met mine; they were solely on her.
Then, his words like stones, he commanded, "You' ll be serving us."
I pushed myself up, the fresh bloodstain on the mattress a grim testament to my latest loss.
My body ached, my world felt numb, yet the familiar routine played out as I fetched the wine.
I returned to find them on my bed, Liam kissing her, a scene I had been forced to witness nine times before.
A single drop of red wine accidentally splashed onto Maya' s pristine white dress.
She gasped, theatrically exclaiming, "My dress! It' s ruined! This is a limited edition!"
Liam' s face turned to thunder.
He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.
"You clumsy bitch," he snarled, then pulled out his phone.
He started a live broadcast, aiming the camera at my face, then at Maya' s stained dress, and finally, the blood on the bed.
"Look at her," he boomed to the world. "This is my wife, Chloe Miller. She can' t even do a simple task without messing it up."
Then, he shoved my face closer to Maya' s dress, barking, "Lick it clean."
My blood ran cold.
"Liam, please," I begged, humiliation clawing at my throat. "Don' t do this."
"Lick it," he repeated, his voice menacing. "Or I' ll find other ways to make you pay. Maybe you' d prefer to serve more than just one of my guests tonight?"
His threat hung in the air, vile and real.
I closed my eyes and leaned forward, the taste of wine and cheap perfume filling my mouth.
He laughed, a harsh, grating sound, then released my hair, and I collapsed.
"Get out," he spat. "And don' t come back in here tonight."
I crawled out, another sharp pain tearing through my abdomen, warm blood gushing between my legs.
He left me in the yard, naked, bleeding onto the cold, damp grass.
Ten miscarriages.
Each time, a new woman, a new cruelty.
Lying there, under the cold moon, clarity dawned.
This would never end.
He would only ever destroy me.
As the last warmth left my body, a new resolve settled in.
It was time to see Arthur Stone.
My "good fortune" was broken; I couldn't give Liam a child.
I was done.
I had to leave.
Arthur, his face etched with mirroring grief, agreed to help me.
But before I could escape, Maya found it-the small, simple urn holding the ashes of my nine miscarried children.
Liam, ever her protector, kicked me into unconsciousness.
I awoke to a new horror: a video compilation of my most private moments with him, twisted clips set to mocking music, broadcast for the world to see.
He then forced me to donate blood until my heart nearly stopped.
He froze my bank accounts.
I crawled home from the hospital, only to find Maya burning my mother' s jade hairpin, my last connection to her.
The urn was gone, its contents scattered.
The next morning, the nine pear trees I' d planted were uprooted, replaced by rose bushes for her.
That was the end.
With Arthur' s help, I left the country, divorce papers filed on my behalf.
Liam laughed when he received them, certain I' d crawl back.
He was wrong.
He only realized his mistake when he discovered Maya' s lies, the truth about her, and me.
He tried to win me back.
But it was too late.
I was gone, never coming back.
His family' s business collapsed, his health failed.
The last I heard, Liam Stone, once the man who had everything, was a reclusive, crippled beggar, haunting his desolate mansion, obsessively planting pear trees and crying out my name in his madness. A Mother's Love, A Daughter's Fury
Sci-fi My father, Richard Sterling, built his empire on control, and I, Ava, was just another asset in his meticulously ordered life.
My mother, Dr. Eleanor Vance, the brilliant AI ethicist, was deemed inconvenient, a "disaster" to be managed.
One day, she was gone, taken by men in dark suits on my father's orders, her privacy twisted into shame.
He paraded his new assistant, Charlotte Hayes, her smile triumphant, pregnant with his "new beginning," while my mother lay in the woods, a body identified only by a stranger.
He dismissed my pleas, my fears, my desperate attempts to uncover the truth, painting me as hysterical, a nuisance to his carefully crafted narrative.
He celebrated on a yacht in the Maldives, sipping champagne, while I clutched a fragmented data drive, a digital breadcrumb trail that whispered of murder, not accident.
How could the man who taught me to ride a bike, who promised to never let me fall, betray us so completely?
How could society believe his lies and brand my mother an unstable genius?
My heart screamed for justice, for the truth to shatter the polished facade of Sterling Dynamics.
With the help of my uncle and grandmother, I began to piece together the chilling reality: my mother wasn't just gone, she was silenced, murdered by the very people who claimed to love her.
And I would make them pay. His Mistress, Her Empire
Billionaires I sat in my Singapore office, thousands of miles from home, my eyes glued to the laptop.
It was Lily's 18th birthday party, a lavish affair I' d planned down to the last detail.
The live stream flickered on, and I saw the magnificent ballroom, just as I' d envisioned.
But then, the MC boomed, "Let' s welcome the heiress to Innovate Solutions, Tiffany!"
My smile froze. Tiffany?
A girl I' d never seen before walked into the spotlight, wearing Lily's custom-made gown and my family' s heirloom sapphire necklace.
Then a woman, Sarah, stepped up, beaming, "As the CEO of Innovate Solutions, it warms my heart…"
CEO? I was the CEO. A cold dread seeped in.
The camera panned, and I saw her. My Lily.
She was near a service table, holding a tray of drinks, head bowed, in a drab server' s uniform.
A group of Tiffany' s friends deliberately knocked a glass from her tray, laughing as she flinched, picking up the pieces in defeat.
A guttural roar escaped me.
I snatched my phone, hands shaking, and dialed Mark, my husband.
"Mark, what the hell is going on? Who is Tiffany? Why is she wearing Lily' s dress and my family' s necklace?"
His response was too casual, too quick.
"A surprise… Sarah' s daughter. My new co-CEO. A PR move."
Co-CEO? Sarah Miller, his old girlfriend?
"A PR move that involves my daughter serving drinks at her own birthday party?" I seethed. "Put Lily on the phone now!"
The line went dead.
A text from Lily' s friend confirmed my worst fears: "They' re treating Lily like a servant. Tiffany and her mom moved in. They told everyone Lily is an illegitimate child and that you abandoned her. Mark is letting it happen."
Moved in. Illegitimate child. Abandoned. The lies were a physical blow.
My daughter, small and broken, flashed in my mind.
Mark wasn't just having an affair; he was erasing my daughter. Erasing me.
I slammed my laptop shut.
Grabbed my purse and passport.
There would be no more calls. No more texts.
I was going home. And I was going to burn their world to the ground. His Obsession, My Hell
Romance My marriage to David Miller was a picture of perfection, a dream life built on his charm and our shared happiness.
Then came the call: my mother in an accident, and David, my husband, utterly unreachable.
Hours bled into sterile dread in the hospital waiting room, a dread far deeper than my mother' s condition.
An unknown text arrived, a single photo: David, arm around another woman, intimate, familiar.
It was my aunt, Sophia Hayes, my mother' s estranged sister, her smile painfully like mine.
My world, once perfect, splintered into a million icy shards under the humming hospital lights.
He returned late, weaving slick lies about dead phones and urgent meetings, as if I were a child to be placated.
But as he signed the papers I put before him, oblivious, a chilling sense of irony settled heavy in my gut.
The man I thought I knew, the husband who murmured of naming our child "Sophia," was a stranger.
I found his study, not an office, but a shrine to her, filled with desperate letters and a diary detailing his monstrous plan: I was just a "perfect-looking replacement" to bear "his Sophia."
The love, the marriage, the baby-all a grotesque fabrication, designed to resurrect his lost obsession.
The pain threatened to split me, but beneath it, a cold, hard resolve began to form, sharper than any grief.
He thought he' d signed investment papers; he' d signed his divorce, and my consent to end the lie he' d so carefully constructed within me.
I walked out that night, leaving his diary open, his delusion exposed, ready to erase every trace of his monstrous fantasy. A Mother's Sin
Horror I' ve always known what animals were thinking.
It' s a secret I keep, even from my boyfriend.
So when my best friend, Chloe, invited me to her cutting-edge Primate Cognition Center, I agreed, expecting just another odd day of animal thoughts.
Then I met Brutus.
A massive gorilla housed behind thick glass, his thoughts weren't mere animalistic grunts.
They were clear, chilling: "Her skin. So smooth. I want it. Tonight. I' ll take it tonight."
Hours later, Brutus escaped, his tracker leading straight to my apartment building.
Mark was working late, and I was alone.
Chloe' s police deputy brother, David, rushed to help.
I heard his muffled struggle outside my door, followed by Brutus' s casual thought: "He was strong. Good fight."
Then, Brutus used David' s dead body to knock on my door, a gruesome puppet.
When Mark called, saying he was coming home, I warned him, but he disconnected.
His last terrified thoughts flooded my mind as Brutus ambushed him in the garage.
Mark was gone.
Brutus was gone.
But then "Mark" called me.
His voice was off.
His behavior was wrong, serving me food I' m deadly allergic to.
A horrific truth clicked: Brutus wore Mark' s skin as a grotesque disguise – a calculated revenge against my mother, who had experimented on him.
My presence was now the target of his cruel, human-like rage.
Chloe arrived at our apartment, yet "Mark" lied about her being late.
My gut screamed.
I found Chloe on the balcony, bound and gagged.
Her terrified plea, once free: "It' s not Mark! It' s Brutus! He' s wearing his skin!"
Everything clicked.
With a kitchen knife glimmering in "Mark's" hand, it was time to fight for my life. You might like
The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Shore Tour I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire.
On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own.
"Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy."
My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry.
He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance.
I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever.
Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network.
The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun. 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.
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." The Unwanted Bride Becomes The City's Queen
Breeze I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return. 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. Jilted Wife? I Am The Underworld Boss
WILONA COOK I am the head of the Bianco syndicate. I trusted my quiet, civilian husband, Simon, to guard my ancestral estate while I expanded our legitimate empire out of state.
I rushed home after receiving an alert that my five-million-dollar property was sold, only to find Simon cradling a newborn baby with his mistress in my desecrated courtyard.
The mistress, Rachel, smugly declared she now owned my house and my husband, using a forged divorce agreement and IDs Simon had secretly stolen from my private safe.
"Simon divorcing you was an escape from misery, because no real man wants a cold machine in his bed."
They played the victims for the live-streaming neighbors, and Rachel tossed my late father's sacred mafia relics into the mud, stomping on his photograph and laughing about melting his legacy for scrap metal.
I stared at the pathetic coward I had married, sickened and bewildered that the man who once vowed to protect my home could steal my inheritance and casually destroy my bloodline's honor for a cheap affair.
As the local police tried to arrest me for defending my father's memory, my syndicate's armored convoy suddenly barricaded the street, and I prepared to leave the traitors nothing but ashes. 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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