Priorities
14 Published Stories
Priorities's Books and Stories
The Waitress Is Actually The Mafia Queen
Mafia I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves." The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Vendetta
Mafia I was sold to the terrifying Mafia Don, Vincenzo Moretti, as a "Collateral Bride" to pay off my family's debts.
I thought my total submission would at least guarantee the medical payments for my bedridden mother.
But one night, I unlocked his encrypted tablet and discovered his secret life.
While he claimed to be settling bloody mafia scores in Sicily, he was actually at Disneyland with his mistress, Giuliana, and their little blonde daughter.
When I demanded a divorce, he didn't apologize.
"Sign the behavioral agreement, or I will personally pull the plug on your mother's ventilator."
The next day, he moved his secret family into our master suite.
My belongings were violently thrown into the dirt, and I was banished to the sweltering servant's quarters.
He ordered the staff to feed me nothing but watery broth and stale bread to cure my "female hysteria."
I soon found out that even my own stepbrother had been conspiring with Giuliana for years, eagerly helping to build the cage I was locked in.
I was stripped of my dignity, starved, and reduced to a pathetic joke in my own home.
Why did I have to be tortured and erased while he played the perfect, loving family man on television?
The grief and humiliation finally evaporated, freezing into a cold, sharp clarity.
I stopped crying and forged an irrevocable transfer of Giuliana's luxury penthouse, slipping it right into Vincenzo's daily stack of paperwork.
Watching the infallible Dark Don blindly sign away his mistress's greatest asset, I knew exactly what I had to do.
It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground. Reborn Queen: The Billionaire's Dangerous Asset
Modern I died as the "Queen," an elite assassin who leveled criminal syndicates, only to wake up in a damp trailer smelling of rot and stale tobacco. My new body belonged to Arleen Brewer, a malnourished teenager with a failing heart and a life defined by systemic poverty.
A flickering blue light in my mind identified itself as a System, offering a devil's bargain: survive this life, and I could resurrect my dead brother, Dusty. To earn his return, I had to endure my alcoholic stepfather’s rage and a body so weak it struggled to even stand.
At my elite prep school, the rich kids treated me like a walking corpse, covering my desk in trash and mocking my heart condition. Even my fiancé, Shen Wenyu, publicly branded me as "unstable" and stood by while the school's golden boy tried to humiliate me.
They expected me to wither away, but they didn't realize a wolf was now wearing the sheep's skin. I shattered the bully’s nose with a metal tray and tore up my engagement contract in front of a stunned auditorium, only to be met with immediate threats of lawsuits and expulsion.
I didn't understand how the original Arleen survived this suffocating injustice without breaking, but as the Queen, I was ready to turn this school into a war zone.
Then Hale Clemons, the most dangerous man in the city, cornered me outside the principal's office. He saw through my mask, realizing his very presence was the only thing keeping my failing heart from stopping.
"I’m not buying your loyalty," he said, handing me a gold-embossed card. "I’m investing in a weapon."
I took the deal, ready to use his power to bring my brother back and bury everyone who ever looked down on Arleen Brewer. The Cost of His Clean Slate
Romance For ten years, I was Liam O' Connell' s shadow, the architect of his dark web empire. I chose him over everything, believing our bond was unbreakable, forged in the fires of the underground world.
Today, he was going legitimate, hosting a party to celebrate his new beginning. I waited, expecting to finally be introduced as the woman who stood by him through it all.
Instead, I watched as Liam announced his engagement to Ava Sterling, a woman who looked like she was born for the daylight. He framed our decade together as a dirty secret, something he was ready to discard, claiming I was "okay with the risks" and "understood the game," unlike pure Ava, who deserved "a clean slate."
He even offered me a black card as a severance package, then asked if we could still be friends. The ultimate insult.
The night before, he had casually asked, "What if... what if we broke up? What would you do?" A perfectly calculated conversational trap.
I walked away, drenched and humiliated, into a storm that mirrored the one in my heart. But it wasn't an ending. It was a declaration of war. What Liam didn' t know was I had a family, a legitimate tech dynasty waiting, and a man, Ethan Vance, who had spent a decade waiting for me to come home. The Unwanted Wife's Final Gift
Romance The crystal chandeliers of the Reed family mansion dripped light onto the polished marble floor. It was my first wedding anniversary, a grand affair designed to broadcast stability to the business world. But the guest of honor wasn't me, the legal wife. It was Chloe Evans, my husband Ethan's publicly known mistress, her hand possessively resting on her rounded belly.
"Ethan and I are so thrilled to announce that we're expecting. Our baby is a true blessing." Chloe's voice echoed, shattering the silence and my carefully constructed composure. All eyes turned to me, standing alone near the grand staircase, as the whispers of shock and pity washed over the room.
My face was a mask of calm, but inside, a storm raged. After a year of marriage that was nothing more than a business contract, a foolish part of me had still hoped. That hope died a final, quiet death as I watched Ethan shield Chloe from the flashing cameras, confirming to the world I was just an obstacle.
I took a slow sip of champagne, then walked towards them, my steps measured and confident. "Ethan," I said, ignoring Chloe. "Congratulations. I have a gift for you. For our anniversary."
He looked surprised by my composure. "What is this?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.
"Divorce papers," I announced, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Signed by me. And a transfer of all my shares in Miller Corp, as stipulated in our prenuptial agreement. You' re free." A collective gasp filled the room. His arrogant smirk finally faltered.
He had expected tears, a scene, a fight. He had not expected this clean, decisive severing. "You're giving it all up? Just like that?" he questioned, searching my face for a trick. A sharp pain stabbed through my abdomen-a secret I had been carrying for weeks.
Pancreatic cancer. Late stage. Inoperable. The doctor's words from that afternoon echoed. The public humiliation, the betrayal, was nothing compared to the true devastation.
I straightened, forcing down the pain. "Just like that. Because I'm tired of this game. You win." I turned to leave, but another wave of pain buckled my knees. "I'm fine," I breathed to my rushing assistant. "Just a little tired. I'm going home." But my destination wasn't home. It was the hospital.
I was dying, and the man I loved was trying to torture me in my final days. He had brought his mistress into my childhood sanctuary, smashed the physical representation of my secret, cherished memory for him, and then publicly auctioned my wedding ring for a dollar. He was confirming I was nothing more than garbage to him.
I stared at his cold, mocking eyes across the hospital room. He wanted a quick, clean divorce? No messy legal battles that could drag Reed Industries through the mud? I had a proposition.
"You will spend the next seven days with me. Every minute. You'll do everything I say, go wherever I want you to go. You'll be my husband, for one last week." My voice, surprisingly strong, dropped to a challenging whisper. I had three months to live. Three months to fix him. I couldn't die and leave him like that. The Jilted Lover's Fierce Comeback
Modern The crisp Stanford acceptance letter felt like a cruel joke in my hands, a ghost from a life that ended in betrayal.
I stared through it, past the promises, seeing Chloe and Brooke' s smiles, and the sterile white of the hospital room where my grandmother lay still.
I remembered the twisted metal, the rain on my face, and Brooke running-not to me, bleeding on the pavement, but to Zoe, who had a mere scratch.
My spirit lingered just long enough to hear their laughter, their celebration of sterilizing me, willing all my assets to Zoe. My life, my love, my trust – all a long, cruel punchline.
Reborn into this sunlit room, with the future in my hand, I felt only a cold, clear purpose.
Paper tore, then tore again, until the Stanford dream was confetti falling into the trash. Silicon Valley could wait.
My phone buzzed with their fake concern: Chloe' s "Love you! 😘" and Brooke' s "So proud of you, Alex." I deleted them without a reply. Their words were poison, and I was finally immune.
My grandmother, Susan, found me later, confused about my rejection of Stanford, Google, and Apple. I told her I wanted to stay, to protect her.
The next day, whispers of "crazy" and "waste" followed me. Then they walked in: Chloe, Brooke, and the architect of my destruction, Zoe.
She looked so plain, but her voice was pure venom, painting herself as the victim, accusing me of arrogance, of having everything handed to me.
My fists clenched. Chloe and Brooke, who knew the truth, chose the lie. They weren't my friends. They were my enemies.
I walked out. The game was on. This time, I knew the rules. And I was not going to lose. The Billionaire And His Fake Wife
Modern Ten years after leaving Harmony Creek, I returned to my quiet Midwest hometown, a Silicon Valley success story ready to settle my parents' estate and close a chapter.
But the moment I walked into the bank, preparing to handle their accounts, my carefully constructed world shattered with two words: "Outstanding loan."
A $400,000 loan, in my name, secured by my childhood home, backed by a forged signature and an even more shocking forgery: a marriage certificate to a woman I' d never seen.
Before I could even process the absurdity, I found a party in full swing at my parents' house, celebrating the new owners-the very people who had defrauded me, now publicly accusing me of abandoning my "wife" and "son."
My phone exploded with a coordinated online smear campaign, labeling me a "deadbeat," followed by a fake resignation email sent to my company, trying to strip me of my career.
Who was behind this intricate web of lies, and why were they so determined to erase me from existence, from my own life?
Stripped of my identity, my property, and my reputation, a cold clarity settled in; I wasn' t just a victim-I was being systematically dismantled, and I would use every skill at my disposal to fight back. The Fall From Perfect Love
Modern The acceptance letter to my dream university felt heavy in my hands, a tangible symbol of not just my future, but the perfect life I was building with Lucas Reed.
Then, everything shattered; drugs, a blurry night, and the horrifying realization that I had been violated, photos and videos spread like wildfire across every platform.
My scholarship vanished, university admission rescinded, and my world crumbled as the public shame led to my father's fatal heart attack and my mother's desperate jump from the library roof-all because of Lucas's twisted revenge.
How could the boy I loved, who claimed to love me, orchestrate such a monstrous plot?
Four years later, encountering Lucas on a dirty street corner while barely surviving, an insidious plan began to brew, turning my survival into a calculated weapon for absolute destruction. Her Empire, His Ruin
Romance My thumb hovered over the screen, then I tapped the little heart. It was a beautiful, honest architecture project from an old friend, the kind I used to dream of doing.
Then the comment popped up from another classmate: "Ethan Miller! Good to see you' re still keeping up with real architecture. Thought you' d be lost to the dark side by now."
The "dark side" was Vance Development, my wife Olivia' s company, where I was the head architect, designing sterile luxury condos.
I closed the app, the familiar dull ache starting in my chest, and watched Olivia prepare for the Urban Development Gala in our opulent penthouse.
She needed to project success for the mayor and investors, especially with the Greenleaf Park deal-a small beloved park in a working-class neighborhood she planned to destroy for our most luxurious development yet, The Pinnacle.
"Try to look happy tonight, Ethan," she' d said, not looking at me. "It doesn' t look good if my own husband seems miserable."
I was miserable. And people were talking about her and Leo Maxwell, her new star project manager.
Her calendar, carelessly left open on the kitchen tablet, confirmed my fears: "2 PM - 5 PM: Site Immersion w/ Leo - The Pinnacle." A secret meeting, not the kind she told everyone about.
I watched her black town car pull away. The anger and jealousy were gone, replaced by a chilling clarity. The foundation was cracked. It had to come down.
My phone buzzed. Olivia. She knew about the social media like.
"Ethan, what the hell was that?" Her voice was sharp, panicked. "Are you trying to sabotage me?"
"It was a post from a friend, Olivia. I liked it."
"A friend who builds non-profit shacks out of garbage! Leo was just saying how important a unified front is right now." Leo. Of course.
She softened her tone: "Once the Pinnacle project is greenlit, we' ll take that trip to Italy, the one we talked about. Just us."
The promise was hollow, a worn-out coin she offered whenever she needed my compliance.
"Okay, Olivia," I said, my voice flat.
"I have to go. Leo is waiting. Don' t be late for the gala." She hung up.
I walked to my study, opened the drawer, and looked at the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up a month ago. The decision was no longer a question. It was an answer. His Unseen Queen
Romance The crystal chandeliers sparkled, reflecting the perfect white dress I wore.
My hand was tucked into Mark's arm; this was our engagement party.
Then, his voice, smooth and charming just seconds before, twisted into a lie.
"Sarah is not well," he announced to the silenced room, my mentee Chloe by his side.
My world shattered.
He branded me "unstable," a "liar," destroying my reputation, my life, right there on the ballroom floor.
For five years, I struggled, the whispers haunting me.
Five years later, at a high-profile gala, they found me.
Mark Olsen, now a celebrated visionary, and Chloe, draped in diamonds.
They dragged me, still in my plain catering uniform, back to the public eye.
He called me a "deranged stalker," ridiculed my every claim, then put his foot down – on my hand – to silence me forever.
The agony was blinding, the humiliation absolute.
How could they be so cruel?
Was this truly my fate, to be forever labeled, discarded, and broken?
Then, just as the darkness swallowed me, a voice colder than ice cut through the stunned silence.
"Get your foot off my wife." The CEO's Widow of Vengeance
Billionaires I was seven months pregnant, excitedly awaiting the arrival of our child.
My husband, Ethan, the brilliant CEO of VanceTech, seemed utterly devoted. Our life was perfect.
Then, a sudden fall. A blinding pain, then a hollow emptiness where my baby used to be.
But the worst was yet to come.
I woke up paralyzed, my body aching with a profound loss, only to overhear Ethan's chilling conversation.
He was discussing not just my forced hysterectomy, but discreetly arranging "permanent lower-body paralysis."
And then, the gut-wrenching truth: his "partner" Chloe, also pregnant, was his mistress.
She was there, in our home, holding a newborn named Gabriel, the very name Ethan and I had chosen for our first lost child. My world shattered.
I later found his hidden tablet, a digital archive of his monstrous betrayal.
Photos of Chloe, pregnant.
Chat logs detailing six "Project Nightingale" events – my previous miscarriages, each an "accident" orchestrated by them.
Videos of him and Chloe in our bed.
The man I loved, planned to destroy me, to keep me "easier to manage."
The ultimate insult came when Chloe, holding his child, deliberately scratched herself and screamed I had attacked her, and Ethan, without hesitation, condemned me.
My pain was unimaginable, but a cold, hard resolve began to set in.
He thought he had broken me. He was wrong.
This wasn't just betrayal.
This was war. Sarah Miller, the quiet software architect, was gone.
In her place, a woman bent on justice, armed with secrets and code, was rising from the ashes. The Unwanted Wife's Unexpected Destiny
Romance The air in the New York City Hall clerk's office was thick with stale paper and cheap coffee.
I, Aurora "Rory" Sterling, heiress to Sterling Global, stood beside my fiancé, Pres Hayes, seconds away from signing our marriage license.
This document was key to my grandfather' s will, granting my spouse controlling influence on the company board.
Then Pres' s phone vibrated, a frantic, insistent sound.
He stepped away, his face pale, muttering, "It' s Tiff. Tiffany Larson. An emergency. I have to go."
He didn't look back.
He just left, abandoning me at the counter, a fool in my cream dress.
Moments later, a text from him popped up: "Tiff needs me. Look, Rory, this Sterling Global thing… it' s still on. Tiff' s generous. She said she' s okay with you being a sister-wife, you know? Or maybe you could be a surrogate for our kids. Once I' m on the board, we can make it work. I' ll schedule time for you."
Sister-wife.
Surrogate.
Schedule time.
The audacity, the cruelty, was breathtaking; he wasn't just manipulative, he was a monster.
The naive part of me shattered, replaced by something cold and hard.
He thought I was weak, broken bait.
He was wrong.
My grandfather' s will said "spouse," not "Pres."
My fingers, surprisingly steady, scrolled through my contacts.
"Ethan," I said, my voice clear, "I need you. Marry me. Right now." Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal
Romance "Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship."
Ethan’s voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big.
The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week.
He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons’ "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply.
I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics.
He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons’ pulled strings.
A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill."
He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile."
I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future.
He insisted I’d find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family."
His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream.
He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere.
My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way.
Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor’easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe’s "panic attack."
Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan’s complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm.
I saw Chloe presenting my life’s work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star."
My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces.
How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion?
Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator’s card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead.
That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator’s number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life. The Maid's Revenge
Fantasy I am a maid in the minister's residence and was sent to the study because of my lack of education. Just because the minister was in a good mood one day and talked to me more, and even gave me a sachet as a reward, the jealous Theresa, who is also a minister, thought that I had an affair with him. She pretended to arrange for me to marry into a good family, but actually sold me to a whorehouse. I suffered torture and contracted a serious illness, died with resentment and pain, but found myself reborn on the day I was assigned to be a maid again. Since heaven has given me a chance to live again, I will not be polite and will definitely make Theresa, the minister, taste the feeling of being trampled by thousands of people! You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge
Lunacy Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart.
The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself.
Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth.
"Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die."
The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone.
Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs.
Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive.
But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth.
In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying.
Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin.
Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon.
When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom.
"The game starts now," she said coldly. He Erased Me, I Erased Him First
Lan Zhen On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies. 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. The Mafia King's Runaway Genius Wife
Huo Wuer I was married to the Dark Don of New York, but to the Trevino family, I was just collateral.
While I was suffering from agonizing acute appendicitis, my husband forced me out into the freezing rain just to watch him parade his mistress in front of the city's elite.
When I handed him the annulment papers and begged for my freedom, he coldly burned them to ashes right in front of my face.
He watched me collapse on the floor in blinding pain, completely ignoring my deathly pale skin.
"Stop this pathetic performance. If you aren't ready for the gala by seven, I will throw your grandfather into a state facility."
His mistress even mocked my illness, handing me raw oysters with a victorious smirk while he looked at me with pure disgust.
I finally understood that in this gilded cage, my life meant absolutely nothing to him.
If I stayed, I would die here—either from a ruptured appendix or from his suffocating cruelty.
So, I took a heavy dose of painkillers, threw my diamond ring into the river, and emptied the family's hidden safe.
When he finally cornered me in a dark alley to drag me back, I shoved the real annulment papers into his chest.
"Touch me, and I will scream until every rat in this city hears me."
I stepped into the getaway cab, taking the master copies of his smuggling ledgers with me.
It was time to burn his empire to the ground. 
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