Edik Brandwein
14 Published Stories
Edik Brandwein's Books and Stories
My Foolish Husband's Regret Comes Late
Mafia For three years, I secretly used my hidden network of connections to build my husband's pathetic mafia syndicate into the absolute pinnacle of this city.
Tonight was supposed to be the birthday dinner where I planned to finally reveal my true identity to him.
Instead, Cassio left me all alone in that high-end restaurant and froze every single one of my accounts.
Hours later, he returned with his mistress Lola and a group of heavily armed men.
"You have nothing. No power, no money. You are completely worthless," Lola sneered triumphantly, viciously smashing a bottle of vintage red wine at my feet before landing a hard punch to my jaw.
He announced to the roaring crowd of mobsters that I was being cast aside.
Then, he gave me a cruel ultimatum.
If I couldn't produce three hundred thousand dollars in thirty minutes, his men would strip me naked and throw me out onto the street, leaving me to be publicly humiliated for the entire city to see.
Those sleazy capos closed in on me, staring with the greedy eyes of predators sizing up their prey.
Looking at the man I had married out of genuine love, I finally understood that our wedding vows were nothing but a carefully calculated experiment to him.
He truly believed I was just a helpless, penniless woman whom he could trample on at will just to please his mistress.
He had no idea that I was Serena Falcone, the legendary heiress of the most cold-blooded mafia family on the East Coast.
When the countdown ended and his men reached out to tear my dress, I calmly picked up a phone and summoned my real family.
It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground! Marked By The Ruthless Alpha King
Werewolf I stood on the dais in a flimsy white dress, waiting for my fated mate, the future Alpha, to complete our bonding ceremony.
But in front of the entire pack, he looked at my foster sister and publicly rejected me.
"A wolfless, genetically flawed individual is not fit to be my Luna."
The invisible bond snapped, nearly tearing my soul apart.
My foster sister shed fake tears while clinging to his arm, and my foster father didn't even look at me.
Instead, he immediately started whispering to a greedy merchant, plotting to sell me on the auction block to the highest bidder.
They erased me from the family records, stole my mother's inheritance, and mocked that I was probably hiding in some corner crying.
To escape being sold like cattle, I fled into the deadly Forbidden Forest.
I survived assassins and exhaustion, only to be forcibly marked by a terrifying stranger—the Alpha King of the Bloodmoon Pack.
He handed me a slave contract, making me his personal attendant just to shield himself from a political marriage.
Everyone thought I had fallen into a darker abyss, destined to be a miserable, forgotten piece of trash.
But they didn't know I used this chance to become the Alpha King's most valued strategist, holding all their fatal weaknesses in my hands.
At the grand Pack Summit, I stepped out of the Alpha King's armored car in a breathtaking gown, standing firmly by his side.
Looking at my ex-mate and foster sister's shocked faces, I smiled calmly.
The battle had just begun. He Came Back, I Broke Him
Modern Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left. My Quiet Wife Is An Elite Genius
Modern I was the ultimate trophy wife, a polished ornament in Francisco Zimmerman’s billionaire empire. For three years, I perfected the "Zimmerman Wife Smile," playing the role of the devoted partner while smoothing the Egyptian cotton of his shirts.
The illusion shattered when I stood outside his study and heard him laughing with his mistress, Annalise.
"She’s just a vase that only knows how to smile," Francisco’s voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. "As long as I pay the maintenance fees on time, she stays obedient."
I walked out that night with nothing but a canvas bag and the clothes on my back. But Francisco wasn't finished with his "asset." He froze my bank accounts and used his massive influence to blacklist me from every interior design firm in New York. He tracked my phone, watching me struggle from the shadows, waiting for me to starve so I would crawl back to his mansion.
He even showed up at the dive bar where I was playing piano for rent money, mocking my desperation.
"You have technique, but no heart," he sneered, tossing a silver coin into my tip jar as if I were a beggar. "You're hollow, Iris. Just like your pride."
I couldn't believe this was the same man whose life I had saved during a bloody night in Macau. To him, I wasn't a wife; I was a stock price that needed stabilizing. The more I fought for my independence, the tighter he pulled the net, determined to break my spirit until I had no choice but to return to his gilded cage.
Then, the morning sickness hit. I realized I wasn't just carrying my own life anymore—I was carrying his heir. If Francisco found out, he would never let us go; he would turn my child into another "performance bonus" for his brand.
Looking at the sonogram, I knew a divorce would never be enough to escape a man who thought he owned the world.
"I'm not going back," I whispered, staring at his yacht moored in the harbor. "To save this baby, Iris Potter has to die." Reborn as the Villain's Wife
Modern I died in a mangled wreck of metal and fire, abandoned by the man I thought was my soulmate. But instead of the void, I woke up pinned against a cold marble wall, staring into the turbulent, storm-gray eyes of Damian Vincent.
This was the night I destroyed my life. In my past world, I spat in Damian's face and ran into the arms of Eddie, a parasitic loser who was secretly plotting with my cousin Jill to strip me of my inheritance.
My "escape" turned into a slow-motion suicide. My brother Donavan died in a horrific car crash while racing to save me from another one of my messes. Damian, consumed by a toxic mix of grief and vengeance, crushed the Nelson family empire until my father was a broken man. I spent years as a drugged-up social pariah, finally dying alone while the people I trusted laughed at my funeral.
The most bitter realization didn't hit me until the end. The "controlling monster" I spent years fighting was the only person who ever truly protected me. I had traded a man who would burn the world for me for a man who would burn me for the world.
Opening my eyes three years in the past, I find myself back at the airport, the rain lashing against the windows. My brother is pleading with me to run, and Damian is standing there, braced for the slap he thinks is coming.
But I don't strike him. I press my palm to his burning cheek and give him the only piece of my soul he couldn't buy.
"I'm not going anywhere, Dami. Keep this as my collateral."
The game has changed. This time, I'm not the victim-I'm the one holding the match. The High Price Of Father's Freedom
Romance I was at a high-end law school mixer, hiding behind a pillar and eyeing the shrimp buffet because my bank account was empty and my fridge contained nothing but expired milk. My father’s name was a national headline for all the wrong reasons, and my only goal was to survive law school without being recognized.
That’s when the room went silent for the arrival of Armond Woodward, the billionaire COO of a global media empire. I froze, because seven years ago in Paris, he was Armond Chevalier, the sweet art student I’d shared a life with. Now, he was a cold-eyed predator in a bespoke suit, and he was staring directly at me like I was a missing asset he’d finally located.
I tried to escape, but the walls were closing in. My tuition payment was forty-eight hours late, and my father was facing a new indictment that would keep him in prison for the rest of his life. While a rich classmate named Miles tried to "save" me by parading me around like a trophy, Armond was working in the shadows. He didn't just offer help; he bought my student loans and my father’s legal liens, effectively making himself my sole creditor.
The realization hit me like a physical blow when Armond cornered me in his private elevator. He knew about my broken apartment lock, my ramen-noodle dinners, and every cent I owed. He hadn't just found me by accident; he had been watching me drown for years, waiting for the exact moment I became desperate enough to be useful.
"I've been waiting for you to hit bottom, Rose," he whispered, using the private name from our past as he trapped me in the back of his black SUV.
With the threat of a two-million-dollar restitution fee hanging over my father's head and the prosecutors closing in, Armond laid out his final terms. He didn't want an apology or a second chance at love; he needed a wife to secure his family trust and defeat a hostile takeover, and I was the only person with enough debt to be completely controlled.
"Marry me, Abbey. A three-year contract, and I make all of this go away."
I looked at the man who had destroyed my life just to own it and realized that to save my family, I had to walk straight into the golden cage he had built for me. The Wife They Broke
Romance My husband and son were pathologically obsessed with me, constantly testing my love by showering attention on another woman, Kassandra. My jealousy and misery were their proof of my devotion.
Then came the car accident. My hand, the one that wrote award-winning film scores, was severely crushed. But Jacob and Anton chose to prioritize Kassandra' s minor head injury, leaving my career in ruins.
They watched me, waiting for tears, anger, jealousy. They got nothing. I was a statue, my face a placid mask. My silence unsettled them. They continued their cruel game, celebrating Kassandra' s birthday lavishly, while I sat in a secluded corner, watching them. Jacob even ripped my deceased mother' s gold locket from my neck to give to Kassandra, who then deliberately crushed it under her heel.
This wasn't love. It was a cage. My pain was their sport, my sacrifice their trophy.
Lying on the cold hospital bed, waiting, I felt the love I had nurtured for years die. It withered and turned to ash, leaving behind something hard and cold. I was done. I would not fix them. I would escape. I would destroy them. His Cruel Test, My Broken Heart
Modern The hospital air was cold, the envelope in my trembling hands heavy with the thirty thousand dollars – every penny my mother and I had scraped together to save her.
But the bed was empty. The nurse' s soft words, "She' s gone," shattered my world.
Then came the note, her shaky handwriting revealing a truth more devastating than death: She' d endured unbearable pain, not for a cure, but to save money for Jake, for my freedom.
Clutching her ashes, I arrived at Jake' s office, the "good man who' d just lost his way."
Then I heard it-voices from the conference room: my creditor, Chloe Adams, and Jake' s cold, analytical voice.
"You can' t have a gold digger for a wife," Chloe purred.
And Jake' s reply, chilling me to the bone: "Next, I need to know if she' s truly devoted to me… If she still loves me and not my money, then I' ll marry her."
My mother died for a lie.
His "struggle," our sacrifices, our love – it was all a cruel, elaborate test.
A game.
He was the CEO of Miller Corp, a billionaire, and I was just a lab rat in his sick experiment.
I walked out, leaving him, his lies, and the ruins of my life behind.
I will never look back. Leaving the Billionaire's Shadow
Billionaires I woke up to the sterile silence of my master bedroom, 27 again.
This wasn' t a dream; it was my second chance to escape a life everyone else called a fairytale.
On my wife Olivia' s side of the king-sized bed, the sheets were undisturbed.
She was Olivia Hayes, the tech mogul, a name that carried weight.
To the outside world, I was Ethan Miller, the lucky architect married to a billionaire, but looking at our family photo, a chilling emptiness consumed me.
I saw a stranger with a forced smile standing next to a woman who was never there, and two children whose affection I' d lost to Liam Thorne, Olivia' s childhood sweetheart.
Years of being a shadow, my efforts ignored, my presence taken for granted-I wouldn' t live that life again.
I found the file I was looking for: Divorce_Agreement.pdf.
After printing two copies, I scrolled through my contacts until I found the name that haunted my previous life.
Liam Thorne.
He picked up on the third ring, his voice thick with sleep. "Who is this?"
"It' s Ethan Miller," I said, devoid of emotion.
A confused pause, then. "Ethan? Do you know what time it is? Is Olivia okay?"
"Olivia is fine," I replied. "I' m calling about something else. I have divorce papers here. I' m ready to sign them. I want to give you everything. Olivia, the children, this house. It' s all yours." Second Love on Snow Mountain
Romance The hum of the projector was a victory song, my architectural proposal a masterpiece, and the biggest deal of my life was firmly in my grasp.
Then, the screen flickered, and my home security feed astonishingly replaced my presentation, broadcasting my husband Liam, in his meditation room, hands caressing another woman.
The boardroom went from buzzing with ambition to a suffocating silence, every corporate shark' s eyes boring into me as my perfectly crafted life shattered.
I didn't flinch, my professional calm a mask over the searing pain of betrayal, as I coolly ended the meeting, securing the contract with a hand that barely trembled.
But once in my car, my first call wasn\'t to Liam; it was to my lawyer, a swift command issuing from my lips: "Start the application for my permanent residency in Switzerland. Immediately." The Wife Who Came Back To Kill
Modern My life as Evelyn Reed, the quiet wife to the ambitious Senator Harrison Bishop III, was finally complete - I was pregnant, a joyful secret I' d just shared with my husband.
But Victoria, my beautiful, cruel stepsister, offered me a "special herbal tea" for the baby. Soon, searing pain tore through me, a fire in my belly that turned to a spreading, deadly cold.
My hands clutched my stomach, trying to protect the tiny life, our baby. It was useless. Victoria stood over me, her smile a crimson slash, while Harry, my own husband, remained a silent shadow behind her. "You were always just a placeholder, you and that little mistake," Victoria whispered, her voice the last sound before darkness swallowed me whole.
I died, betrayed by the man I loved and the sister I trusted, my unborn child ripped from me. The injustice burned hotter than the fire in my belly, leaving behind a cold, endless void.
Then I gasped, eyes snapping open to blinding sunlight. I was in my doctor's office. "You' re about six weeks along. Congratulations, Evelyn." I was back. Back to the very day it all began, their treachery branded onto my soul. This time, I knew their game. And this time, they would pay – a debt of vengeance as cold and sharp as broken glass. Where the Snow Falls Soft
Romance My life with Mark was perfect, or so I thought.
Seven years together, a cozy apartment in Chicago, and a baby on the way.
Then a car accident stole our future.
I lay on the pavement, bleeding and terrified, dialing Mark, only for him to answer with an annoyed shrug-off from his 'client'.
Just minutes later, I saw him drive by, him in the passenger seat, his intern Jessie at the wheel.
The hospital confirmed my biggest fear: I'd lost the baby.
That night, alone at home, I found expensive lingerie, definitely not for me, hidden in our closet.
It was for Jessie.
The next betrayal came wrapped in buttercream: Mark asked me to bake an elaborate birthday cake for his "important agency client."
It was Jessie.
And if that wasn't enough, at her lavish party, Jessie flaunted my anniversary bracelet, telling me Mark said it was "just something old lying around."
My heart turned to stone as I grasped the depth of his cruelty and indifference.
To lose our baby, only to uncover this twisted deception, the public humiliation, and his utter contempt for my feelings.
How could one person be so callous, so utterly devoid of empathy?
Enough was enough.
At that party, I handed him a document-the termination of our shared lease.
As he scribbled his name, oblivious, I knew my decision was final.
I walked out of that party and his life forever, ready to reclaim my power and start anew.
But first, he had to pay. A Mother's Curse, A World Undone
Fantasy For fifteen years, silence was my shield, a vow I kept to prevent my "disaster prophecies" from unleashing chaos into the world.
My six-year-old son, Noah, was my entire universe, the one shining star in my muted life.
But then my ex-husband, Kevin, and his new, beautiful girlfriend, Jessica, sent Noah—who was terrified of dogs—to a brutal ‘discipline’ camp filled with vicious Rottweilers.
Soon after, the camp director curtly informed me that Noah "didn’t make it," handing me a small bag containing his torn shirt and a muddy sneaker.
When I confronted Kevin with the devastating truth and the remnants of our son, his response shattered my very being.
He laughed, callously dismissing Noah's last belongings as "trash," then threw the sacred fragments to his own German Shepherd, watching as the dog tore at them.
The familiar sting of my silence, always a weapon against me, now became an unbearable agony, a fire raging inside my soul.
But in that moment, as the last shred of my world crumbled, the dam broke, and a raw, hoarse sound ripped from my chest.
My voice, silent for a decade and a half, returned with a chilling clarity.
"Kevin," I hissed, "you will pay for this. Everything you value will turn to dust."
And to Jessica, shielding her pregnant belly, I declared, "Your child will not live, and fire will consume your beauty for the rest of your miserable life."
This was no longer sorrow; this was a mother’s curse, freshly spoken, and the world would soon discover its terrifying power. 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.
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 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. The Hidden Medical Genius: Healing My Crippled Mafia Boss
Roldan Mccartney One wedding. Two brides. A lethal trap.
My stepsister got the sparkling gown and the Mafia’s golden heir.
I got a five-dollar dress and a dying groom.
My father traded me away to seal a silent assassination, selling me to Damien Carlisle—a paralyzed, disfigured warlord whose enemies were eagerly waiting for sepsis to claim his life.
"He won't last a month," my stepsister mocked, pouring wine down my back. "Enjoy being a widow, dear sister."
Stranded in a cold, decaying manor with a dying man and traitorous servants, I was expected to weep and perish in the dark.
They made one fatal mistake.
The weak, pathetic girl they trampled on is gone. In her place stands a soul back from another world—armed with supreme medical tech, lethal toxin mastery, and the V-9 AI system.
I opened my medical bag and looked at the sleeping beast beside me.
They sent me here to die with a crippled outcast.
Instead, I’m going to build an Emperor—and tear their world apart piece by piece. 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. 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. Too Late, Mr. Mafia: The Surgeon He Discarded
Winnie Suchoff I was the wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country.
But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me.
I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth.
My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated.
I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife.
In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed.
Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets.
I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse.
Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began.
Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears.
"Take your time to think about it."
This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life.
I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned. Into The Rival's Arms: The Decoy's Escape
Paula Gardini I stood behind the velvet curtain, clutching a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dante our family was growing.
Instead, I heard him laugh.
"She is not the bride," Dante told his Consigliere, swirling his fifty-year-old scotch. "She is the bulletproof vest I wear until it is safe for Sofia to enter the city. When the bullets stop flying, we throw the vest in the trash."
My world shattered.
When Sofia arrived that night, she didn't just take my place; she boiled my beloved cat for dinner. Dante didn't defend me. He told me to clean up the mess or face punishment.
To prove his devotion to her, he had his men drag me to "The Pit"—an underground fight club.
I was thrown into a cage with a starving Doberman.
I looked up at the VIP box, begging the man I loved to save me. Instead, Dante pressed the intercom button, his voice booming over the speakers.
"One million dollars on the dog," he said. "She won't last three minutes."
He covered Sofia's eyes to protect her innocence while the beast tore the flesh from my arm.
That night, Elena Vance died in the dirt.
One year later, the grieving Dante Moretti attended a gala for a mysterious new artist in New York.
He dropped his champagne glass when he saw me on stage, alive, wearing a dress that revealed my ruined, scarred arm.
"I didn't leave you, Dante," I said into the microphone, my voice cold as ice.
"You killed me. And now, I'm here to collect my winnings." 
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