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Shore Tour's Books and Stories
The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Mafia 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. Revenge Of The Wife They Sold
Modern My husband, Brock, wanted to sell me out. Literally.
His plan was to drug me and deliver me to his boss, all for the sake of a promotion.
But what he didn't know was that my boss, Gill Webb, was gay. He was interested in my husband, not me. He looked me in the eye and asked, “Adeline, you don't want to lose your job, do you?”
I sighed, weary to my bones. I really needed this job.
After my husband fell into a drugged stupor, my boss appeared at the bedroom door. The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend
Modern I returned to New York after three years in Paris, sick and broken, with nothing but a venomous vow to reclaim my life. I looked like a total disaster in my scuffed boots and ripped jeans, a far cry from the Stanton heiress I once was.
On the flight home, a glossy magazine headline hit me like a physical blow: my half-sister Aryana was celebrating a fairytale engagement while wearing my dead mother's sapphire pendant. The necklace was my only legacy, stolen by the interlopers who had usurped my place the moment I vanished.
Things spiraled into a nightmare before I even landed. I accidentally spilled milk all over a powerful billionaire, Denis Stephens, and then fainted directly into his arms during turbulence. At the hospital, my ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend mocked my illness, snapping photos of me looking like a "pregnant" mess to ruin my reputation. When I finally fought my way to the family manor to snatch the necklace back, my father tried to hit me, and my ex accused me of becoming a whore in Europe.
I couldn't understand how my own father could freeze my bank accounts and treat me like a criminal while my sister played house with my mother's jewels. I was back in the orbit of the Manhattan elite, but I was a pariah with a target on my back and a body that was failing me.
Then, the final blow came. I rear-ended a Bentley belonging to Denis Stephens-the same man I'd humiliated on the plane. With six figures in damages and zero dollars in my pocket, I was completely at his mercy.
"You're going to be my date tonight,"
He commanded, pulling me into a high-stakes game of fake romance and cold revenge that I wasn't sure I'd survive. The Unwanted Wife's Cold Comeback
Romance I loved my husband, Adrien, for ten years. On our wedding night, he didn't come to our bed. Instead, he had me dragged to a cold, damp cellar to be taught a lesson.
His ex-lover, Fallon, stood by with a triumphant smirk as he accused me of betrayal. He believed her lies, every single one.
He watched as his men ripped my wedding dress from my body, leaving me naked and broken on the concrete floor.
"You disgust me," he spat, his voice laced with a venom that shattered my heart.
For a year, I endured his cold hatred and abuse. My love for him withered and died, replaced by a chilling emptiness.
But when his cruelty led to my mother's death, and I discovered I was pregnant with his child, I knew I had to escape. So, I threw myself into the ocean, faking my death. This would be my revenge. Rooftop Edge, A New Life Began
Modern The doctor finally gave me the green light to conceive, and I floated home to tell my husband, Clay.
We toasted to our future children, Charis and Donny, names he swore were unique and special.
Later that night, I unlocked his iPad and realized those names weren't unique-they were a sick tribute to his mistress, Charity Odonnell.
When I confronted him, the "perfect husband" mask shattered.
He didn't apologize.
Instead, he and his mother slapped me across the face, claiming my "mental instability" had returned, while my own parents begged me not to ruin his reputation.
Then came the video from Charity, laughing as she told me to "do everyone a favor and die."
Broken and cornered, I stood on the edge of the hospital roof that night.
I called Clay, told him to look up, and watched his face crumble in terror as I let go.
But I wasn't trying to kill myself.
I was aiming for the large oak tree below, calculating the perfect fall to destroy his life and secure my freedom. The Abandoned Wife And Her Secret Heir
Modern I was staring at a high-resolution photo of my husband burying his face in another woman’s neck when his text came through.
"Pizza or Thai?"
He wasn't just cheating. The photos showed him playing house with a woman named Serena and a little boy who had his exact nose.
He had told me he wasn't ready for children, yet here he was, giving his world to a secret family.
When I confronted them at his company gala, Serena didn't apologize.
She smirked, ripped the wedding ring off my finger, and shoved me hard.
I hit the floor with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded in my stomach.
"Help me," I gasped, clutching my belly. "My baby."
Michael looked at me. Then he looked at Serena and the boy.
He made his choice.
He turned his back on his bleeding, pregnant wife and escorted his mistress out the emergency exit to avoid a scandal.
He left me there to die.
He didn't know that the "son" he was protecting was a rental—a prop Serena hired to trap him.
And he didn't know that the baby he left to die on the gallery floor was the only real child he would ever have.
I didn't go home to cry.
I sent him a receipt for a cremation service for "Baby Boy Hayes," withdrew half our savings, and vanished.
He thinks he's free.
He has no idea I'm still alive, and I’m taking his real son with me. Bloom and Fade in Sunflowers
Modern "I am willing to go to Otresh and join Doctors Without Borders." Kenia Watson's voice was firm.
The Chief Medical Officer hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The aid mission to Otresh will last at least two years. Does your husband agree with you going?"
She rotated the ring on her right hand, took a moment of silence, and then answered, "We're about to divorce. I hope you won't tell him where I'm going after I leave."
She had tolerated so much, continuously searching for the truth from years ago.
When she was diagnosed with cancer, her husband was having an affair with her stepsister.
This time, she chose to let go and leave, refusing to be entangled with him any longer.
"Hobson, in a month, we will be free."
Yet, when she was critically ill, he knelt by her hospital bed, praying repeatedly for her to wake up. The Price of His Choice
Billionaires The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick with rust, and my arms ached, tied tight. Across from me, Chloe, my fiancé' s mentee, sobbed theatrically. Liam, my fiancé of ten years, the man I built a tech empire with, stood pale before our kidnapper, Marcus. Then, Marcus offered Liam a choice: save the loyal fiancée or the cute, young mentee.
"Choose her," Liam whispered, looking at Chloe, not me. My world tilted. This couldn' t be. He chose her, the 'fragile' one, over me, his partner, the woman with his ring on her finger.
The humiliation was a physical blow. Then, I screamed, "I'm pregnant! We're having a baby!" Liam froze, but Chloe' s venomous voice dismissed it as a lie, and he believed her. Just like that.
Marcus kicked my chair. I crashed to the concrete, desperately trying to protect the tiny life inside me. Liam shouted, but not for me; he shielded Chloe. As sirens wailed, he hovered over her, ignoring me, lying bleeding on the floor.
I woke in a hospital, the baby gone. A nurse handed me a tablet: "Gallagher Tech CEO Liam Gallagher and Mentee Chloe Evans Rescued... Ava Monroe Steps Down for Health Reasons." My career, everything, wiped away.
He had taken my love, my future, my child, my career. He had left me with nothing. But a cold, quiet calm settled in. This wasn't an end. It was a beginning. His Coma Bride, His True Escape
Modern Ethan Hayes thought his life was a gilded cage, trapped between his tyrannical father and his ruthless half-brother, Liam. His last hope for freedom was an arranged marriage to a comatose heiress in Boston, a deal he accepted in exchange for a fortune and the quiet support of his stoic bodyguard, Sarah Bell.
But that fragile sense of acceptance shattered when he overheard Sarah's late-night call, revealing her true identity as Seraphina Vance, a billionaire heiress, and her chilling confession: she was infatuated with Liam, seeing Ethan as nothing more than a "means to an end."
The woman he' d secretly loved had been deceiving him, her every act of professional care a calculated move to get closer to Liam. Her obsession led her to public acts of devotion towards his tormentor brother, culminating in orchestrating a brutal dog attack on Ethan and later a violent beating by thugs, all while prioritizing Liam and dismissing Ethan's suffering.
How could the quiet, seemingly caring Sarah be this ruthless heiress, so utterly blind to Liam' s cruelty? The betrayal gnawed at Ethan, leaving him drowning in a bitter cocktail of humiliation, anger, and profound confusion. Was his entire life just a stage for their twisted games?
Then, Liam's drunken boasts exposed the horrific truth: his mother's death and Ethan's ruined scholarship were his brother's calculated acts. With nothing left to lose and everything to escape, Ethan decided his arranged marriage was no longer just a transaction, but his only path to true freedom from a family intent on destroying him, even if it meant abandoning everything he knew. Betrayal in the Family Home
Modern Carol and Frank, a retired principal and fire chief, were weeks away from their 50th wedding anniversary, enjoying the quiet comfort of their Connecticut home. They valued respect and genuine affection far more than material things.
Then, their son Michael and his materialistic wife, Tiffany, "gifted" them an extravagant smart refrigerator. Just days later, Tiffany called, her voice sharp, flatly demanding $8,000. This "gift," she declared, was something Carol and Frank now owed them for.
Carol was left utterly aghast by the audacious bill. But the true betrayal unfurled when Tiffany, brandishing stolen emails, wickedly accused Carol of secretly funneling her son's inheritance to a "secret daughter," Izzy, demanding $8,000 as compensation. The shock and venom triggered a severe panic attack, sending Carol to the hospital.
How could her own son stand by, silent and meek, as his wife spewed such vile lies, claiming his mother had betrayed their entire family? The bitterness of this ingratitude, this monstrous accusation, cut Carol deeper than any pain.
Lying vulnerable in her hospital bed, a cold, hard resolve began to set in. Then, Izzy herself arrived, the successful lawyer Tiffany branded a "gold-digger," casually mentioning the antique sapphire pendant she'd couriered as Carol's anniversary gift. A gift Carol had never received. This wasn't just about money or betrayal anymore; it was about theft and desecration. And Carol, the retired principal who knew manipulation when she saw it, was ready to teach a final, devastating lesson. When Death Couldn't End Our Love
Romance My doctor told me I had two months to live, just as my first love, Ethan Reed, resurfaced, engaged to a seemingly perfect woman.
Desperate, I blackmailed him with intimate photos and our old demo tape, demanding he spend his last two bachelor months with me.
But instead of rekindling a flame, I was met with his icy disdain, a constant reminder of the family feud that tore us apart, and public shame orchestrated by his fiancée, Olivia.
My health rapidly deteriorated, yet he believed every lie, saw only manipulation.
As if that wasn't enough, in a final, cruel blow, my naked photo was leaked online, destroying what little dignity I had left, leaving me to die alone, convinced he despised me.
Was it all a game to him?
Hours before his wedding, I tragically died, only for the truth of my terminal illness to emerge, shattering his world and leading to his fiancée's arrest for conspiracy.
Years later, I' m Maya, a new person with fragmented memories, inexplicably drawn to a powerful man connected to my past.
Can a love story truly transcend death, or are some wounds too deep to heal across lifetimes? Abandoned to Die: Her Fight for Life
Romance "Pancreatic cancer, aggressive," the doctor' s words hit me, Eleanor, a sixty-year-old retired librarian, like a physical blow.
I rushed home to my husband, Richard, a man I' d shared forty years with, hoping for comfort, for support, for a fight plan against this death sentence.
Instead, he coldly dismissed my $75,000 treatment as too expensive, citing our tight savings due to our grandson's school.
Days later, a bank statement revealed the truth: a $50,000 withdrawal for "Vintage Motors LLC" was not for our family, but for a shiny red convertible.
My best friend, Brenda, then called, reporting Richard and his high school sweetheart, Sylvia, recently widowed, cruising Main Street in that very car, laughing like young lovers.
He bought his mistress a luxury car, flaunted her publicly, and denied me life-saving treatment.
When I confronted him, he rolled his eyes, calling me "dramatic" and "hysterical," saying Sylvia "needed cheering up" and was "good for his networking."
My heart shattered again when our son, Michael, whom I had always cherished and supported, sided with his father, arguing my cancer was "tough" at my age and that Sylvia had even helped his career.
At Sylvia's birthday party, hosted at Michael's house (a house I helped him buy), Richard proudly introduced her as his "true partner," and when I spoke up, Michael publicly shamed me, ordering me to "just leave."
The man I loved for decades, and the son I raised, chose a new relationship and career opportunities over my very life.
How could they betray me so completely, so callously, leaving me to die while they celebrated?
But in that moment, as I walked away, something in me finally broke free.
I was done being their victim; I would fight for my life, alone, and on my own terms. The Teacher's Secret Life
Modern Sarah Miller, a beloved high school history teacher, pregnant with her first child, was just nominated for State Teacher of the Year.
Her husband, Mark, owned the local car dealership, and their life in this small Vermont town seemed utterly perfect.
Then, a chilling post appeared on the town's Facebook group: "LOCAL TEACHER FAILS DRUG TEST???"
Underneath, a blurry lab report screamed: "Sarah Miller - Positive - Opioids."
The digital firestorm erupted immediately, turning me into a "junkie teacher," a "danger to children" overnight.
Whispers followed me at school, former friends looked away, and parents demanded their kids be moved from my classes.
Even Mark, my own husband, dismissed my pleas, laughing with his buddies about how 'radioactive' I'd become, before orchestrating a vile setup at a rundown motel.
The final, devastating blow came at a community forum where Tiffany, my conniving colleague, served me a poisoned cupcake, causing the agonizing loss of our baby.
My perfect life, my reputation, my unborn child—all ripped away by unimaginable betrayal, orchestrated by those closest to me.
How could my own husband conspire with my manipulative rival to destroy me and our child?
As I felt the life draining from me, a cold, pure rage took hold, replacing all pain and despair.
I would not die a victim.
I would turn their live-streamed spectacle of my undoing into a shocking confession of their crimes.
I steered my car towards Blackwood Gorge bridge, knowing this would be my final, devastating act of defiance—not against myself, but against every single person who brought me to ruin. My Husband's Dirty Little Secret
Romance Scarlett May Johnson could sing a heartache, but she could also be hungry. So, when Nashville record mogul Silas Blackwood offered her a deal – and a marriage proposal – she said yes. It wasn't love, just a shortcut to her dreams. Soon, her life became a gilded cage: cold marble, silent halls, and a husband who rarely touched her. Her one escape was Blackwood Ridge Lodge, a wild retreat where she found raw, forbidden passion with a rugged guide named Cody.
Then the truth shattered everything.
"He shows us... those ATV action videos," a drunk business associate slurred to me one night. My blood ran cold. Videos? Later, I found a hidden folder on Silas's tablet: high-quality, multi-angle recordings of Cody and me at the lodge. Every intimate moment, captured. And according to his friends, he’d been *sharing* them. My escape, my passion, my secret life – all a twisted performance for his sick profit.
When I confronted him, Silas didn't deny it. He simply handed me divorce papers, a paltry payout, and an iron-clad NDA. "$100,000. You breathe a word, and your music career is dead."
The humiliation was a physical ache, hotter than any ambition. I was no longer an artist; I was a pawn in an old man’s twisted game, violated, discarded without a care. The naive country girl was gone, replaced by a cold, searing rage.
And then, a package arrived. From Cody. Inside, a small device and a note: "Sometimes the prey has to become the hunter." Silas Blackwood thought he had won. He was dead wrong. I was ready to hunt. The Son-in-Law Who Stole My Life
Modern After three years of living in California, selflessly caring for my granddaughter so my daughter and son-in-law could work, I was finally home in Oregon. My daughter, Susan, had handed me a $3,000 envelope at the airport, a token of thanks I thought was true appreciation for my sacrifice.
But the quiet comfort barely lasted moments. My son-in-law, Kevin, called, his voice dripping with venom. The $3,000 wasn’t a gift, he sneered, but a "gesture" – money he now demanded back for their "emergency fund" and growing expenses.
My own daughter, Susan, echoed his plea, asking me to return it "for peace." This was just the beginning.
Kevin's audacity spiraled; he demanded I sell *my* home, the one filled with my late husband’s memories, to fund theirs, and later, using my granddaughter as a pawn, coerced me into handing over access to all my bank accounts and property deeds, draining my life savings.
How could the very people I’d sacrificed three years of my life for, my own flesh and blood, turn so utterly against me, their greed a bottomless pit that consumed every ounce of decency?
But when they staged a public spectacle, trying to paint me as the villain, I knew the time for quiet suffering was over. With hidden security footage and damning audio recordings, I prepared to expose their manipulative, abusive game for the entire world to see. 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. Married To The Comatose Mafia King
Benjamen Ernst I stood before the altar of the grand gothic cathedral, about to marry Julian Moretti, the grieving adopted son stepping up for the comatose Don.
To the hundreds of mafia men behind us, it was a dutiful wedding. But I knew the horrifying truth.
Julian and his pregnant mistress, Clara, had orchestrated a brutal plot to steal my dowry and secure his place as the next Don.
In my past life, I was completely blind to their betrayal. Julian trapped me in our apartment and set it ablaze.
I could still feel the blistering heat of the fire. I could still hear my mother’s agonizing screams and my little brother Antonio’s desperate coughing as the smoke filled our lungs.
My entire family was burned alive just so Julian could swap the brides and put his whore in my place.
I died in pure agony, filled with hatred and despair, wondering why I had trusted a monster.
God hadn't saved me from those flames. The Devil had.
And he sent me back to this exact moment at the altar.
"Do you, Isabella Rossi, take Julian Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked.
Julian reached for my hand with a sickeningly gentle smile.
I didn't give it to him. I tore back my lace veil and turned to face the crowd.
"You are mistaken, Father," I said, my voice like ice. "The man I am bound to marry is your Don. Damien Moretti." Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple
Hu Minxue Three days after my fiancé publicly dumped me for my stepsister, the Supreme Don issued a command that silenced the entire estate.
I wasn't being cast aside. I was being sold to Damien Russo.
The "Broken Don." A crippled, scarred monster rumored to have murdered his last two wives.
My adoptive mother, Elena, didn't cry for me. She smirked.
To her, I was finally being disposed of.
She was so confident I was walking to my death that she decided to loot my corpse before I even left.
She forged documents to steal my entire inheritance—my biological mother’s trust fund—to pay for my stepsister’s lavish wedding to my ex.
"She won't need money where she's going," my stepsister laughed, wearing a dress bought with my stolen funds.
They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter.
They thought I was too weak, too stupid, and too afraid of the monster to fight back.
But they made a fatal mistake.
With my aunt’s help, I didn't just find the proof of their embezzlement; I found a weapon.
I’m not running from the monster. I’m going to marry him.
And when I hand him the evidence that the Herrera family stole from his bride, he won't be my executioner.
He will be my vengeance. Too Late, Mr. Capo: Your Wife Is Gone
Mo Yufei "Happy Anniversary," my husband said, sliding the separation agreement across the mahogany desk.
It was the eighteenth time in five years I had signed these papers.
Matteo De Luca, the most ruthless Capo in New York, checked his Rolex with cold impatience.
"Sign it, Sera. Bianca is on the ledge again. She needs to see we're over, or she jumps."
Bianca. The ward. The broken bird. The woman whose fragile psyche dictated every moment of my marriage.
I signed my name, and he left me alone on our anniversary to save her. Again.
But saving her wasn't enough.
When Bianca pushed me down a flight of marble stairs in a fit of jealous rage, shattering my spine and leaving me paralyzed, I thought Matteo would finally choose me.
I was wrong.
I woke up in the hospital to find him holding her hand, not mine.
"The security footage has been wiped," he told me, his voice void of emotion. "We cannot have a scandal. You fell, Sera. That is the story."
He erased the truth. He erased my pain.
He protected the woman who crippled me over his own wife.
Two months later, he wheeled me into a gala, playing the doting husband while I sat in the chair that was my prison.
He didn't know I had a burner phone hidden in my velvet dress.
He didn't know that tonight, the obedient wife was going to die on the pavement, and a ghost would rise in her place.
I looked at him one last time and dropped the phone in his lap.
"I hope she's worth it." The Syndicate's Ghost: Don's Forgotten Queen
Xiao Ye For four years, I was the grieving wife of a mafia Don, drowning in the memory of our dead son. My husband, Eli, held me through it all. But a trip to the records office on the anniversary of our son's death revealed a devastating truth.
He had another son. A secret family. Worse, I discovered he was with his mistress the day our son died, having dismissed the security that could have saved him. He let me believe it was my fault.
When I tried to leave, he brought his mistress and their son into our home, framing me as a madwoman. His mother accused me of hurting the boy, and Eli punished me by locking me in a dark, flooding room—a cruel echo of our son's drowning.
To “cure” his new heir of my son’s “ghost,” they had my baby’s grave dug up. On a yacht, Eli held me down as his mistress emptied the ashes into the ocean.
Then they left me to die in the water. When I washed ashore, his mistress was waiting to deliver the final, soul-crushing blow. She hadn't scattered the ashes. She’d flushed them down a toilet.
I didn't want to escape him. I wanted to erase him. I found a neuroscientist with an experimental procedure and made my request: wipe the last ten years. I didn't want to leave my husband; I wanted to make it so he never existed at all. He Betrayed Me, Now He Begs
C.D 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 Mafia Don's Regret: She Is Gone Forever
Er Duo I carried the first word I had spoken in ten years like a sacred offering, ready to surprise the man who had saved my life.
But through the crack in the study door, I heard Josiah tell his Underboss that I was nothing but a noose around his neck.
"Grace is a burden," he said, his voice cold. "I can't become Don while babysitting a mute ghost. Lexi brings power. Grace brings nothing but silence."
He chose to marry the Mafia Princess for her father's trade routes, dismissing me as wreckage.
But the true betrayal didn't happen in that office. It happened in the woods during an ambush.
With bullets flying and the mud sliding beneath us into a ravine, Josiah had to make a choice.
I was injured, trapped at the bottom. Lexi was screaming on the ridge.
He looked at me, mouthed "I'm sorry," and turned his back.
He hauled Lexi to safety to secure his alliance. He left me to die alone in the freezing mud.
I lay there in the dark, realizing the man who swore a blood oath to protect me had traded my life for a political seat.
He thought the silence would finally swallow me whole.
He was wrong.
I crawled out of that grave and vanished from his world completely.
Three years later, I returned to the city, not as his broken ward, but as a world-renowned artist.
When Josiah showed up at my gallery, looking shattered and begging for forgiveness, I didn't sign.
I looked him dead in the eye and spoke.
"The girl who loved you died in that ravine, Josiah." 
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