Juline Walden
19 Published Stories
Juline Walden's Books and Stories
No Mercy For My Mafia Fiancé
Mafia During a massive syndicate attack, my fiancé, the most ruthless Mafia Capo, locked his grip on my wrist like an iron vice.
He desperately wanted to drag me into a corner panic room to protect Bianca, the innocent underworld socialite he secretly obsessed over.
In my past life, I saved him with my body—and he rewarded me with a crippled leg, years of disgust, and a push off a cliff. He believed her lies, and he murdered me for them.
Opening my eyes again, I was reborn to the exact moment the safehouse was under attack.
This time, I let him walk willingly into his own concrete tomb. Captive Bride: Escaping The Masked Monster
Modern To keep my comatose mother's heart beating in the ICU, I desperately needed two hundred thousand dollars.
Instead of a loan, my aunt and uncle brought me a proxy marriage contract. They sold me to Julian Montgomery—a billionaire rumored to be a disfigured, ruthless monster—just to pay off their own bankruptcy debts.
"Sign it, or they pull her plug right now."
I was dragged to his gothic estate, where Julian nearly choked me in the dark on our first night. He trapped me with a fifty million dollar divorce penalty and transferred my mother to a fortress-like VIP hospital, taking absolute control of her life. He forced me to wear humiliating lingerie and play the role of a shameless gold digger to disgust his hostile family.
But the most terrifying part was when he peeled off his scarred silicone mask, revealing a flawlessly handsome face underneath.
Why was this manipulative psychopath spending millions on my mother's medical care? Why was he going to such extreme lengths to trap me in this hell, only to treat me worse than a maid?
The answer came when his sister suddenly kicked open our bedroom door.
"You think marrying this cheap whore will make you forget Luna Bloom? She's back in New York!"
Feeling Julian's body instantly turn to stone at the sound of his first love's name, the truth hit me. I was nothing but a prop. But if he thought I would just lay down and be his victim, he was dead wrong. The Disgraced Heiress's Deal With The Devil
Modern I was working a catering gig under a fake name at the Pierre Hotel, desperately trying to stay invisible after my father’s high-profile financial fraud ruined our lives.
Everything shattered when Silas Thorne handed me a glass of drugged champagne and cornered me in a locked restroom, his slurred voice demanding I "thank him properly" as he kicked in the door.
To escape a fate worse than death, I lunged across a hundred-meter drop onto the balcony of the city’s most feared billionaire, Everet Adams. But the nightmare didn't end there. When I finally crawled back to my family’s cramped apartment, my father wasn't relieved to see me alive; he was furious I had "ruined the deal." He held my mother’s last gold locket over a flame, threatening to melt it unless I returned to Silas to finish what he started. My stepmother stood by, screaming that my body was the only currency we had left to pay the rent.
I stared at the man who raised me, realizing he had orchestrated my assault just to secure bail money for my brother. To my own flesh and blood, I wasn't a daughter—I was a commodity, a piece of meat to be traded to the highest bidder.
When Everet Adams tracked me down and offered me a way out, it came with a two-hundred-page marriage contract and a cold demand for an heir. I looked at the live feed of my brother being cornered in a prison yard and picked up the pen.
"I'll sign," I told him, stepping out of my father’s shadow and into a gilded cage.
As the elevator doors opened to a wall of paparazzi cameras, I leaned into Everet’s cold embrace. The world saw a fairy tale, but I knew the truth—I had just sold my soul to the only monster capable of protecting me from my own blood. Surviving The Ice Prince's Love Algorithm
Romance Autumn woke up with a brutal headache and a glowing red warning projected onto her retinas.
She had been bound to a ruthless system as the "Elite Girlfriend" to Harrison Jennings, the wealthiest, most robotic student on campus.
But her status was a death sentence: Cannon Fodder scheduled for deletion.
To survive, she had to flawlessly execute a grueling daily schedule of academic perfection and emotional detachment. If she broke character, showed weakness, or failed her study quotas, the system electrocuted her mind.
She was trapped in a digital nightmare, bullied by her roommate and forced to endure Harrison's suffocating scrutiny. He didn't date her; he optimized her like faulty software, even throwing $50,000 at her just to stop her from working a "dirty" part-time job because it violated his strict mysophobic parameters.
Pushed to the brink of a breakdown, Autumn was exhausted and terrified. Why was she forced to appease a high-functioning sociopath who measured human connection in data points and efficiency metrics?
Until one afternoon, desperate to scare off a creeping frat boy, she loudly faked a deranged, obsessive love for Harrison's flawless logic.
She turned around to find Harrison standing right behind her.
His usually dead, icy eyes were suddenly burning with a dark, suppressed intensity.
"The statement you just made," he rasped, towering over her. "Does it hold legal validity?" Engaged To A Coldhearted Murderer
Modern My fiancée smiled as she showed me the "intruder" she had dealt with in the ER.
I looked past her to see my mother beaten unconscious on the floor.
And on the gurney next to her lay my seven-year-old brother, cold, blue, and dead.
Brittnie clung to my arm, beaming with pride.
"I handled it, Cannon," she chirped.
"That gold digger tried to claim this bastard was your son. But I made sure they wouldn't bother us again."
My blood turned to ice.
She was holding my mother' s emerald brooch, a family heirloom, convinced it was her engagement ring.
Because of her delusion, she had refused to give my brother his EpiPen.
She had watched him suffocate to death, thinking she was winning my heart.
I looked at Gabe' s lifeless body, then at the woman I was planning to marry.
I pulled out my phone and shoved a family photo in her face.
"That gold digger is my mother," I whispered, my voice trembling with lethal rage.
"And you just murdered my brother." The Truth Hidden In A Folder
Modern For three years, I believed I had the perfect marriage with my husband, Grant, and an unbreakable bond with my best friend, Chelsey.
That illusion shattered when I found a hidden video on our shared laptop, tucked away in a folder labeled "Memories."
It showed them together in a hotel room, kissing, their bodies intertwined. I heard my husband promise my best friend he would never truly love me, that I was just a responsibility he had to bear.
He was the man who swore he'd never cheat. She was the woman who once saved my life. Their entire relationship, their fake animosity-it was all an elaborate performance to hide their affair right under my nose.
But when he left me sobbing on the floor to rush to her side after a faked car accident, something inside me finally broke.
I found them wrapped in each other's arms, and with the sound of my hand cracking across his stunned face, I made a new promise.
"We're getting a divorce." He Saved Her, I Lost Our Child
Mafia For three years, I kept a secret ledger of my husband's sins.
A point system to decide exactly when I would leave Blake Santos, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago.
I thought the final straw would be him forgetting our anniversary dinner to comfort his "childhood friend," Ariana.
I was wrong.
The real breaking point came when the restaurant ceiling collapsed.
In that split second, Blake didn't look at me. He dove to his right, shielding Ariana with his body, leaving me to be crushed under a half-ton crystal chandelier.
I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a shattered leg and a hollow womb.
The doctor, trembling and pale, told me my eight-week-old fetus hadn't survived the trauma and blood loss.
"We tried to get the O-negative reserves," he stammered, refusing to meet my eyes. "But Dr. Santos ordered us to hold them. He said Miss Whitfield might go into shock from her injuries."
"What injuries?" I whispered.
"A laceration on her finger," the doctor admitted. "And anxiety."
He let our unborn child die to save the blood reserves for his mistress’s paper cut.
Blake finally walked into my room hours later, smelling of Ariana’s perfume, expecting me to be the dutiful, silent wife who understood his "duty."
Instead, I picked up my pen and wrote the final entry in my black leather book.
*Minus five points. He killed our child.*
*Total Score: Zero.*
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I just signed the divorce papers, called my extraction team, and vanished into the rain before he could turn around. Scorned By Family, Freed By Fury
Modern The charity gala was supposed to be my final act of freedom, a staged exit from a life that wasn' t mine.
Instead, it ended with the shriek of shattering glass, my sister' s scream, and the cold accusation in Charlotte Sterling' s eyes, a theatrical terror I knew was fake as she bled onto the pristine marble from a self-inflicted wound.
Suddenly, every eye in the room, including my adoptive family' s, landed on me, fixing me with a gaze riddled with panic, concern, and finally, pure hatred, as Charlotte whispered her fabricated story of being pushed to our mother.
"Get her out of my sight," my adoptive father, Richard Sterling, snarled, his voice a low growl directed solely at me, a torrent of fury replacing the warmth that once existed.
My adoptive brother, Ethan, dragged me from the ballroom, away from the judging crowd, and into the raw, damp confines of the basement wine cellar, proclaiming I would stay there until I understood what I had done.
For two years, I had been Ava Miller, the grateful orphan, tasked with exposing Sterling Corp' s illicit operations, but now, abandoned by my agency and starved by my supposed family, a chilling realization ignited within me.
I wasn' t just a victim of betrayal; I was an agent, and if I got out, I wouldn't just pick up the pieces-I would build something entirely new, something forged in vengeance. The Twin's Legacy
Romance The blinding pain of childbirth ripped through Sarah, but it was the empty chair beside her hospital bed that truly shattered her.
Mark should have been there, holding her hand, but his phone was off, just as it had been for hours.
Another contraction hit, and alone, sweat-soaked, Sarah delivered her first twin, then geared up to do it all again, frantically trying to reach a husband who had vanished.
As she cradled her newborn, a news report flashed on the TV: a sun-drenched beach, turquoise water, and there, laughing, hand-in-hand, were Mark and her best friend Emily, on a "romantic getaway" in Bali.
Just then, a cheerful caller informed her the postpartum nanny package she'd paid for had been canceled by her husband.
Her blood ran cold. He hadn't just abandoned her; he'd taken everything.
A quick check of her banking app confirmed the horror: over eighty thousand dollars, her life savings for the twins, gone.
He'd drained it all to fund his sordid escape.
The line went dead after her mother-in-law, dismissive and callous, blamed Sarah for not "giving Mark a boy" and for being "careless with her money."
The betrayal was absolute, a crushing blow from everyone she thought she could trust.
How could she be so blind?
How could they betray her so completely, so cruelly?
The isolation crashed down, leaving her utterly alone, reeling from a decade-long lie that had just imploded.
Just when she thought she might drown in her grief, a cold, sharp voice cut through the haze, forcing her to confront an unexpected intervention and perhaps, a chance to reclaim more than just her babies. New Beginnings, Old Scars
Billionaires The tech industry' s golden couple, Mark Stone and I, stood basking in the spotlight, a symbol of shared dreams and billion-dollar success.
But that dream shattered when an anonymous email revealed Mark's decade-long betrayal: he wasn't just having an affair with Chloe Davis, our rival, but funding her company with our money.
When I confronted him, Mark shamelessly denied it, then orchestrated a vile smear campaign, publicly labeling me an unstable, cheating woman. He even weaponized our shared pain, twisting the tragic loss of our unborn child-twice-into an accusation of my infidelity. Everyone believed him. I was isolated, heartbroken, and utterly humiliated.
How could the man I loved, my partner for ten years, become such a monster? What depths of depravity would he sink to just to protect his image?
Driven by a cold fury and armed with a deceptive calm, I plotted my escape. I agreed to a "reconciliation trip" to Iceland, a cruel charade, knowing it was my perfect window to disappear, leaving him to face the wreckage of his own making. This wasn't an ending; it was a strategic withdrawal. The war had just begun. Too Late, Mr. Rockstar
Modern My husband, a rockstar on the rise, just dedicated his Battle of the Bands victory to his "true muse"-our band's new bassist, Molly.
Then they shared a long, passionate kiss on stage, right in front of me, as I stood there, holding the victory cake I' d spent two days baking for him.
Later, I heard him laugh, calling me "pathetic," a "church girl playing dress-up" who "just tries too hard."
Then, after he "saved" me from harassing strangers, he publicly shamed me for my outfit and forced me to drink until I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
Fresh from the ER, I saw him on one knee, proposing. Not to me, but to Molly, whispering, "I'll take care of you and our baby," words eerily similar to those he' d used when he pressured me into an abortion.
He then ripped off my designer leather jacket, the one I' d saved for months to buy for him, and draped it over Molly, declaring she "actually looks good in this."
How could he, my husband, betray me so completely and utterly humiliate me? Was this all a twisted joke, or was this the man I married all along?
Instead of crying or screaming, a strange, cold calm washed over me, and I walked straight out of that hospital, pulling out my phone to call Austin's best divorce lawyer. Her Crown, His Ruin
Fantasy The night Sabrina won Governor, my world should have been complete. I, Ethan Lester, a Hollow Keeper, had bent forgotten rituals to ensure her victory, loving her with every fiber of my being. She was my queen, now ruler of our state.
But her crown came with a cruel twist. She brazenly dismissed me and my family, choosing the slick tech billionaire Andrew Fuller, who mocked my quiet, mountain-folk parents and had them arrested on the spot. My pleas to Sabrina were met with icy indifference, her hand already intertwined with his.
The next morning, I learned my parents were dead-a convenient "suicide" in custody. When I confronted Sabrina in her office, she laughed with their killer, then scornfully dismissed my grief. "Are you seriously asking me to ruin a powerful man for a couple of nobodies from the sticks?" she sneered. She then announced our annulment and fired me, giving my advisory role to Andrew.
How could the woman I loved, the woman I gave everything for, become such a monster overnight? How did my life, built on deep traditions and fierce loyalty, collapse so entirely? This wasn't just betrayal; it was cold-blooded murder.
They had taken everything. Now, I would take it all back. 949: The Score That Blew Up My Family
Sci-fi My mother, Karen, stood by my hospital bed, her face cold as my heart monitor slowed. I was dying from organ failure, a sudden, rapid illness, while my older sister, Brittany, thrived as a popular influencer, celebrated for achievements that were, in truth, always mine.
This wasn't just sickness. It was the "Exchange System"-a chilling secret weapon my own parents had wielded. They' d systematically pilfered my successes, my health, even my Stanford-bound SAT scores, to fuel Brittany's fabricated "genius." My entire life was a lie, a resource to be drained for her benefit.
My father, Rick, a silent accomplice, watched as I withered away. Every talent, every ounce of robust health, funneled into Brittany. As the final heart monitor beep flatlined, darkness consumed me, the bitter truth of their monstrous deceit searing my soul.
How could my own family turn me into a mere resource, stealing my very life until I perished, all to elevate another's hollow existence? The injustice suffocated me. Was I truly just a battery for my "genius" sister, erased from history by those who should have loved me?
Then, light. I gasped, bolting upright in my own bed. It was a month before the SATs-the turning point where my life last pivoted to its tragic end. The memories of my death, of Karen' s icy words, were vivid. This time, I would not be their victim. I knew their system. And this time, I would break its rules. The Monster She Chose
Horror I woke up cold, Thanksgiving Eve all over again, the phantom pressure of water in my lungs, a chilling memory of how my wife Ashley had ended my last life.
Ashley was already humming, getting ready to leave-not for her aging parents, but for Brandon, her toxic lover, sealing her family' s fate with lies and then locking me in our bedroom to prevent me from interfering.
After a desperate escape, I raced to her parents' apartment, only to find the building engulfed in flames, while Ashley, through cunning phone calls, dismissed my desperate pleas to rescuers, painting me as an erratic husband and leading to my arrest as her parents perished inside.
My heart shattered by her shocking betrayal and Brandon's calculated cruelty, I was consumed by a cold, burning rage, realizing the terrifying depth of her obsession that led to such an unthinkable tragedy.
At the funeral, I publicly exposed Ashley's cold deceptions, and as Brandon shamelessly proposed to her amidst the fresh grief, his true monstrousness was revealed, finally breaking her twisted delusion and setting me free to forge a life unbound by their dark past. Charleston Soul Swap
Fantasy My Charleston life was straight out of a storybook: a loving family, a handsome fiancé, Chad, and a generous engagement gift – a historic mansion in the heart of the city.
But then came the nightmare.
One dizzying moment at my engagement party, surrounded by opulence, and the next I was trapped.
Trapped inside my fluffy white Bichon, Angel, my world became a terrifying cacophony of barks and urine.
Through the bars of a filthy cage, I saw my step-brother Billy Ray smirk, abandoning me—Sarah Jenkins, the wealthy heiress—to a notorious high-kill animal shelter.
I knew Daisy-Mae, his conniving wife, was now standing triumphant and relieved in *my* gorgeous Charleston home, inhabiting *my* body, embracing *my* privileged life.
The betrayal was absolute, the cruelty unimaginable, turning my gilded existence into a nightmare worse than death.
How could this dark magic be real?
How could my own family turn so viciously against me?
Miraculously, I jolted awake, back in my own bed, days before the horrific swap was truly meant to happen.
My first move: feigning a sudden, violent dander allergy to banish poor Angel—and Daisy-Mae's trapped soul—from my rooms.
This time, I'm not just fighting back; I'm turning their dark schemes against them, inch by agonizing inch. Unbowed: The Evelyn Hayes Story
Modern Evelyn Hayes, a venture capitalist celebrating a milestone in her impressive career, just wanted a quiet moment at a campus Starbucks, dressed comfortably after a long panel. But a simple outfit choice unexpectedly ignites a firestorm: anonymous messages turn into public online attacks, spearheaded by Mark Jenkins, an aspiring entrepreneur she's about to judge.
He demonizes her, painting her first as "distracting," then as a "corrupt elite" actively sabotaging his dreams. When he realizes she's the lead investor for the prestigious "Pioneer" Accelerator, he unleashes a venomous social media campaign, exploiting his family for sympathy and turning the internet into a mob crying "#CancelEvieHayes" and accusing her of being everything wrong with Silicon Valley.
How did a casual tank top become an excuse for such a calculated, personal vendetta? How can one man’s bitter entitlement twist reality and orchestrate a public shaming campaign against a professional woman?
Refusing to be silenced, Evelyn knows she must fight back, not just for her reputation, but for every woman targeted by online hate. But as she prepares to expose Mark’s dark past, a terrifying truth emerges: his desperation could turn vicious. Will she overcome the digital mob and a dangerous real-life threat, or will his false narrative destroy everything she’s built? Honors Night, Unscripted Drama
Young Adult The Annual Honors Convocation. My valedictorian speech was a triumph, the applause warm, my parents’ faces beaming with pride. I had given it all to academics, and this was my moment of glory. My future felt bright, endless possibilities stretching before me. I was ready to step off that stage and into a new chapter.
But then, Mr. Davies, our notoriously strict history teacher and the school’s champion of discipline, called me back. He held up a small, cream-colored envelope, sealed, for all to see. He announced, amplified by the microphone, that it was an “admiration note” found in my textbook – a clear signal of an uncomfortable public exposé he intended to make.
My stomach dropped, recognizing the careful calligraphy. Ethan. His son. Mr. Davies, oblivious, believed it was *to* me, not from him, and he was about to weaponize it. He forced me to read the heartfelt words aloud to the entire horrified audience, watching my parents wilt in their seats, threatening my participation in the prestigious National Mock Trial Championships if I didn't identify the "irresponsible" writer.
The bitter irony choked me. Here was the man who constantly lauded his son’s “focus” and “discipline,” preparing to publicly dismantle the very young man who wrote these tender sentiments, all while making me complicit. How could he be so utterly blind? How could I possibly navigate this moral tightrope without betraying Ethan, or completely derailing my hard-earned academic future?
Just as the suffocating pressure threatened to break me, a quiet, resolute voice cut through the auditorium’s stunned silence. “Stop.” Ethan Davies rose from his seat, pale but unyielding. He was about to shatter his father’s carefully constructed world, and radically redefine my own, with a confession that would flip the entire narrative on its head. You might like
His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don
Ebony Pete "You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down? Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don
Hei Baidong I was dragged back from the countryside by my father for one purpose: to be a sacrificial lamb.
He ordered me to marry the mafia Don Damien Valachi in place of my sister. Everyone in the underworld knew that this Don's brides never saw the light of the next day. My stepmother put on a fake smile and took my hand, calling it an "honor"; my sister hid behind her, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
I smiled coldly and held up two fingers: "Twenty million dollars. Now."
My father tried to play tricks, planning to take back the money from my trust fund after I died, but I had someone transfer every cent out before the wedding, leaving him a zero balance.
The next day, the wedding car pulled up to the Valachi estate. The butler ordered the driver to use the service entrance-it seemed my groom didn't think I was worthy of the front gate.
I got out and switched to an armored vehicle. I floored the accelerator, crashing straight through the estate gates. The gates shattered, and I didn't stop until I reached the main steps. I jumped out, the heel of my shoe crushing a broken iron railing, and shouted:
"The bride is here."
I looked up, scanning every window until my gaze stopped on one dark pane. I knew Damien was watching.
I brushed the dust off my skirt, raised my voice a notch, and smiled: "What, the Don of the Valachi family doesn't dare come out to meet his new wife?" Bound By Vows: My Sleeping Mafia Husband
Zhen Xiang I wasn't marrying into the Falcone mafia because I was loved.
I was being handed over like payment.
My parents owed the Falcones a fortune, and I was the daughter they chose to sacrifice. On my wedding day, I was supposed to become the wife of Enzo Falcone, the golden heir of New York's most dangerous mafia family.
Then an anonymous message lit up my phone.
Want to see your groom? Go to the bridal suite.
I went.
I found Enzo on my wedding bed with my half-sister. Her dress was pushed up. My lace garter, the one meant for me, was wrapped around her ankle like a trophy.
And when the scandal exploded, no one blamed him.
His mother called me a lunatic. My half-sister cried pretty, poisonous tears. Then she revealed the final insult.
She was pregnant with Enzo's child.
They locked down the estate to silence me. They wanted me humiliated, obedient, and disposable. A ruined bride. A convenient scapegoat. A debt paid in flesh and shame.
So I gave them a show they would never forget.
I walked onto the balcony, set my diamond-studded veil on fire, and dropped the burning silk in front of every elite guest who had come to watch me be sold.
Then I went to the true matriarch of the Falcone family and made my own demand.
I would not marry a traitor.
I would marry Damien Falcone instead.
The dead grandson. The fallen Underboss. The legendary God of War.
A dead man could not betray me. A dead man could not touch me. A dead man could give me the power to destroy everyone who had tried to bury me.
At least, that was what I thought.
Until I learned Damien Falcone was not as dead as everyone believed. Dying To Escape The Obsessive Mafia Don
Priority I spent three excruciating years building an underworld empire for Cassius, only for him to give the ultimate symbol of his protection to a fragile girl named Serena on the very day he proposed to me.
My biological brother Julian, my protector Enzo, and my ally Lucian all followed suit, prioritizing Serena's fake tears over my life.
They forced me into a lethal bone marrow extraction to save her. When I welcomed the agony—using it to trigger my system's extraction protocol, my only way home to the real world—they violently aborted the procedure. They accused me of twisted manipulation and locked me in a high-security medical prison. There, they handed my care over to Serena, who tortured me in secret, calibrating my pain to hover just below the medical alarms.
"You will live," she whispered, "so that you may watch them choose me—until the act itself becomes a prayer."
I didn't understand. Why was my physical agony never enough to make them stop, yet a single tear from Serena became their absolute law? Why wouldn't they just let me die so I could go home?
Then I saw my real brother Arthur, exhausted by my hospital bed, through the system feed—and I realized I couldn't die. Not yet.
I wiped all emotion from my face and calmly signed the papers for their live public reconciliation broadcast.
Before I leave this world for good, I will tear Serena's perfect facade to pieces. Reborn, I Ruined Their Perfect Life
Priority I spent five years laundering my family's wealth and buying military-grade weapons to crown my husband, Alistair, the Don of the Chicago Mafia.
But the night before his coronation, he drove an Italian stiletto into my stomach.
He sneered that a Don needed a true Mafia Queen, and that was always meant to be his "fragile" friend, Kylie.
As I bled out on the Persian rug, he revealed the sickening truth.
The night I was found in a rival Irish boss's bed two years ago wasn't a setup by our enemies. Alistair had ordered his own mother and sister to drug and frame me.
He just needed me terrified enough to sign over my merchant trust fund to prove my loyalty.
My entire marriage, my sacrifices, and my stolen wealth were just stepping stones for him and his mistress.
I had bled for him and won him the city, only to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb so he could hand my empire to another woman.
Before the flames I started consumed us both, I swore I'd drag his entire family to hell.
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating smoke was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and the bitter taste of chloral hydrate.
I was back on the exact night of the frame-up two years ago.
Outside the door, my sister-in-law was whispering, waiting for the Irish boss to arrive so they could ruin me.
This time, I was going to make sure she was the one in that bed. 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." 
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