Sofia Wade
19 Published Stories
Sofia Wade's Books and Stories
The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Mafia I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." Married To My Ex-Husband's Billionaire Uncle
Modern To celebrate the end of her ten-year marriage, Isabelle Wells got blackout drunk and used a hotel keycard gifted by a friend to find an "escort."
She poured out her heart about her husband Bradford cheating on her with her best friend, then dragged the handsome stranger into bed. But the next morning, the "escort" was wearing a tailored Armani suit. He wasn't a paid professional. He was Grayson Lloyd, the ruthless billionaire head of the Lloyd empire—and her ex-husband's untouchable uncle.
Grayson trapped her against the door, showing her the scratch marks on his back, and coldly demanded she marry him as "compensation." Terrified, Isabelle fled, only to receive a devastating phone call. Bradford had framed her mother's small business for food contamination, threatening her with prison time. When Isabelle desperately rushed to beg Bradford for mercy, he and his mistress laughed in her face.
"Get on your knees and tell everyone how you failed our marriage."
Bradford sneered in the crowded bar, demanding she take the blame publicly just to save her mother. Isabelle stared at the man she had loved and supported for a decade. He didn't want to help; he just wanted to completely break her spirit and prove she was nothing without him.
The despair burned away, leaving behind cold steel. Instead of kneeling, Isabelle poured a glass of champagne over Bradford's head, doused her former best friend, and walked out. Pulling out Grayson Lloyd's black business card, she dialed the devil's private number. She was going to marry the uncle, and they were all going to pay. The Betrayed Wife's Ruthless Mafia Comeback
Mafia For five years, I was the flawless wife to the heir of the De Luca empire, securing billion-dollar acquisitions to prove my worth.
But my husband, Alessandro, still paraded his mistress in our home, publicly humiliating me as a "cold spreadsheet" while she sneered in triumph.
It didn't stop at infidelity. When I dared to cut off her credit cards, Alessandro decided to teach me a lesson.
He allowed his mistress to secretly file down the metal clasp on my horse's saddle right before a massive public equestrian event.
My leg was completely shattered in a horrific, agonizing fall in front of hundreds of elite guests.
While I lay bleeding in the dirt, my husband didn't even glance my way. Instead, he rushed to hold his mistress, shielding her eyes from the gruesome sight.
Later, pretending to be unconscious in the infirmary, I overheard him ordering his guards.
"Get rid of the saddle. It was just a lesson to remind her who's in charge."
He didn't just want me humiliated; he wanted me crippled and broken.
As the sterile smell of the hospital hit me, a horrifying realization set in—I was two weeks late. I was pregnant with his child.
The thought of my baby growing up in this ruthless, toxic family made my blood run cold, and the last spark of my love turned into absolute hatred.
The obedient wife died on that dirt track.
I quietly contacted his family's biggest rival and activated my secret scorched-earth protocol. It was time to burn his empire to the ground. Taming My Silent Billionaire Contract Husband
Romance I transmigrated into a novel as the cannon-fodder wife of Garrison Harvey, an ice-cold Wall Street billionaire.
According to the original plot, my fake best friend Adelaide was sitting across from me right now, secretly recording me complaining about my suffocating marriage.
That single audio clip breached my strict prenuptial agreement. Because of it, I was thrown out of the penthouse with absolutely nothing. I can still feel the freezing rain hitting my face and the rough concrete scraping my knees. I remember Garrison handing me the divorce papers without a single word or a second glance. And I remember Adelaide standing in the warm luxury lobby, smiling her perfectly contoured smile as she watched me freeze on the streets.
Until my last breath, my lungs burned with bitter injustice. Why did I let a fake friend manipulate me into giving up my wealth? Why did I expect romance from a mute, robotic CEO instead of just taking the money?
Blinking hard, the blurry cafe sharpened into focus. I was back.
Adelaide was leaning forward, her phone face-down with the red recording timer running, coaxing me to vent about my husband.
Instead of falling into her trap, I stretched my lips into a flawless, sickeningly sweet smile.
"Torture?" I said loudly, making sure the microphone caught every word. "I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Garrison is the most perfect husband in all of New York."
This time, I'm treating my icy contract husband like my ultimate VIP client, and that massive trust fund will be mine. The Pregnant Heiress: Rising From The Grave
Modern I was kneeling on a Persian rug in my custom Vera Wang, staring at the headline that ended my life: my father had been arrested for a massive Ponzi scheme.
I reached for my phone to call my groom, Claudius, but he disconnected the line. Then I heard the sound that stopped my heart—the deadbolt sliding home from the outside.
Two floors down, my mother-in-law was already calculating the cost of my survival. To save the family’s stock prices, they decided a "grieving widower" was better than a disgraced bride. Claudius didn't even flinch. He downed a whiskey and gave the order to the staff.
"Do it."
The door swung open, but it wasn't my husband. It was the housekeeper and a maid wearing medical gloves. They pinned me down, ignoring my screams, and plunged a syringe of potassium chloride into my neck. They scattered pills across the floor, staging a perfect suicide while I felt my heart rhythm fail.
"I'm pregnant. Please."
I sobbed into the silk cushions, but they didn't pause. As the darkness swallowed the room, I realized my entire marriage had been a transaction, and I was now a liability to be liquidated. How could the man I loved sign my death warrant? Why was my best friend already wearing my engagement ring before my body was even cold?
But they forgot one thing: I was an Elliott, and we always have a contingency plan. The poison didn't kill me; it only woke me up. When I stood up from that chaise lounge, the bride was gone. I was holding the secret ledger that would burn their empire to the ground.
"Have a lovely audit." The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge
Modern For seven years, I funded my husband Gonzalo's PhD. I paid for everything. A week after our wedding, his young "mentee," Kloe, moved in with us, claiming a rare autoimmune disorder made her "fragile."
On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough.
When I refused, he ripped it off my body.
I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow.
Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper."
But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve.
I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion." His Wife's Venomous Betrayal
Romance The pregnancy test showed two pink lines, and pure joy surged through me.
I, Ethan Miller, was finally going to be a father.
But then my wife, Sophia, dropped a bomb that shattered everything.
"The child isn't yours, Ethan. It's Liam's."
The world tilted.
My perfect life, a fragile lie built on Sophia' s deceit, crumbled.
Tragedy compounded days later: Sophia was in a car accident, a miscarriage.
Liam, her lover, was behind the wheel.
Then, at a company gala, Sophia, radiant and cruel, seized a microphone.
Her eyes, cold and furious, locked onto mine.
"My husband, Ethan Miller," she announced, her voice dripping with venom, "is a monster."
She publicly accused me of sabotaging her, of causing her miscarriage out of jealousy.
The accusation was so monstrous, so far from the truth, I could only stand paralyzed.
Her final blow: "I'm making him get a vasectomy. He will pay for what he did to my baby."
They forced me into it, stripping me of my rights, my future, my very manhood.
I returned home, a ghost in my own house, only to find Liam brazenly occupying my study.
He flaunted his victory, mocking my pain, even using my Pritzker Prize as a coaster.
Then, he shattered my most prized possession: my mother' s music box.
"Oh, that old thing," Sophia said, unconcerned. "It was gathering dust. I gave it to Liam."
Something inside me broke.
My hand bleeding, heart shattered, I watched Sophia fuss over a supposedly ill Liam.
She shrieked, "What did you do to him? What did you put in his drink? You want to take everything from me!"
The doctor' s diagnosis: Liam just had a bad hangover.
My pain was real, her accusation a baseless lie.
Sophia offered a fleeting, empty apology, but the chasm between us was too deep.
I decided then: no more.
I had to fight back for my sanity, for my future, for myself. Worthless No More: A Mother's Triumph
Romance The stale coffee and expensive cologne was a mix I knew all too well-my boyfriend, Mark, was in a good mood, which always meant he wanted something from me. I was deep in the code of my indie game, my passion project, a world that was entirely mine.
Then he dropped the bombshell: a "strategic networking event" with his "business visionary" childhood friend, Brittany, whom he clearly admired far more than me.
My heart sank as he waved away my concerns about overdue rent and bills-money I' d given him to pay. Not for the first time, he dismissed my "pixels and stories" as not "real business," just as he had dismissed every cent I' d poured into his failing startup.
The true blow landed when he sneered, "It's no wonder you can't even do the one thing a woman is supposed to do right. You can't even get pregnant. What good are you?" After a year of desperate hopes and private pain, his words cut me to my core.
He was right there, dismissing my worth in the most cruel way imaginable, while spending my earnings to impress someone else.
In that moment, everything shifted. I watched him walk out, slamming the door, demanding I leave my apartment-the one I paid for. I was broken, homeless, and worthless, just as he said. But as I looked across the courtyard at my quiet neighbor, Liam' s, light, a flicker of defiance sparked. I had nowhere else to go, but I knew I couldn't stay. That night, I knocked on a stranger's door, ready to reclaim my life, piece by painful piece. The Wife Who Fought Back
Romance I was seven months pregnant, living a fairytale life as the wife of a powerful Congressman. Julian stroked my belly, whispering dreams of our son' s future, and I truly believed I had it all.
Then, a cold dread seized me. I' d just overheard Julian on the phone, his voice urgent, planning to use me as bait for a predatory federal prosecutor. Not for us, but to save his high school sweetheart, the woman he truly loved.
My perfect world didn't just crack; it exploded into a million sharp pieces. Every intimate moment, every precious gift, was a cruel, recycled memory from his past with her. In his eyes, I was a mere tool, a sacrifice.
My heart pounded a sick rhythm as I stared at the man I thought I loved, now revealed as a calculating monster. The betrayal was an Arctic wind, chilling me to the bone, but beneath it, a burning rage began to smolder.
He thought I was a naive girl from the wrong side of the tracks, easily manipulated. He was gravely mistaken. I wasn't his victim; I was about to become his reckoning. Her Hidden Family, His Stolen Life
Modern For two decades, Ethan diligently built a restaurant empire alongside his wife, Sarah, fulfilling their DINK pact. He even underwent a vasectomy and publicly claimed infertility, protecting her from family judgment, believing their shared dream was unbreakable.
Then, a single legal document shattered his meticulously crafted world: a share transfer agreement for two 10-year-olds, Finn and Belle Miller. A quiet inquiry confirmed the unthinkable – they were Sarah' s secret children, born a decade ago, with her "childhood friend," Mark.
Sarah, chillingly, dismissed them as a "platonic favor," clarifying she still didn't want children "with him." Her family sided with her, portraying Ethan as unreasonable. Humiliation deepened at a public party when Sarah announced major company shares would go to Finn and Belle, cementing Ethan's public replacement. The ultimate insult: when Finn lied about Ethan, Sarah, without a blink, slapped her husband, choosing her secret son's word over their twenty years of marriage.
How could he have been so blind? He'd sacrificed his chance at fatherhood, endured silent pity and judgment, all for a woman who secretly built an entire, separate life, using his devotion as camouflage. The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound.
With cold resolve, Ethan signed the divorce papers, leaving behind a video revealing the truth of Finn' s lie and Sarah' s unquestioning cruelty. He walked out forever, ready to find a peace she' d never allowed him. My Blood, My Destiny Rewritten
Xuanhuan My blood is a secret, a rare healing gift, but in my first life, it sealed my painful destiny.
Because I healed Ethan Davenport Jr., an ancient family pact forced me into a miserable marriage with him, a man who despised me and loved the cunning Veronica Sterling.
Veronica, in a vicious plot, faked a terrible accident and convinced Ethan that only my special blood could save her.
Blinded by his infatuation, Ethan ruthlessly demanded my life essence, forcing me to bleed for her, again and again.
I died from exsanguination, my extraordinary power grotesquely twisted into the instrument of my demise.
The revelation of Veronica's calculated deception and my husband's complicity was a shattering, unbearable injustice that followed me into the void.
But then, I woke up, back on the precise day my tragedy began, granted an impossible second chance.
This time, I will not be a victim; I will rewrite my fate, wielding my gift to build a life of my own choosing, far from their shadows. The Man She Thought She Owned
Romance Tonight, under the spotlight at AuraConnect's 10th-anniversary gala, I was ready to make Jessica, my high school sweetheart and business partner, my wife.
We had built a multi-billion-dollar empire from nothing.
But as I knelt, ring in hand, her eyes weren't on me; they were glued to her phone, a private smile playing on her lips.
Then came her dismissive laugh, echoing through the silent ballroom.
"Oh, Liam," she scoffed, in front of everyone, "That's... sweet. But really? Now?"
She dismissed our proposal as "awkward," then coolly walked away, texting, towards a handsome model.
Later, I overheard her calling me "stifling" and heard her say, "Younger men are just so much more... appreciative."
Watching her kiss him, the absolute betrayal ripped through me.
How could the woman I dedicated my life to, built everything with, treat me with such casual, public cruelty?
My decade of devotion, my love, meant utterly nothing.
She truly believed I' d come crawling back, declaring I couldn' t live without her.
But she was wrong.
I shredded the wedding tuxedo, boxed up all her gifts, and left a note: "Goodbye."
Then, I booked a one-way ticket to Boston, determined to build a new life, far from her toxic shadow, and never look back. The House-Husband Who Was Rex
Romance I gave it all up. My reputation as "Rex," the undefeated legal titan of LA, my multi-billion dollar cases, the power, the respect.
For three years, I was just Ethan Miller, Olivia Hayes's devoted husband, the "house-husband" who cooked, cleaned, and managed her life, hoping she'd finally truly see me.
But her world revolved around Julian Vance, her celebrity ex-boyfriend. Every conversation, every decision, every raw emotion was for him. I thought I'd hit rock bottom when she casually bought me a new suit, only for me to realize it was a gift for Julian.
Then, at Julian's lavish birthday party, he publicly confessed his "undying love" for Olivia. She cried, heartbroken, while I stood by, dismissed as her "support" and the punchline of a cruel joke. Not once did she defend me.
I'd quietly driven myself to the ER after she fussed over Julian's tiny scratch instead of my bleeding, deeply cut hand.
I'd listened to her colleagues pity me, calling me a "saint" for tolerating her obsession. But that night, seeing her openly weep for a man who wasn't her husband, after all I' d sacrificed… a freezing clarity washed over me.
Why had I wasted three years? Why had I become invisible? How could I have been so blind? My foolish support had only enabled her toxic obsession.
When I walked out of that party, I wasn't just leaving Olivia; I was burying Ethan Miller. Rex was coming back, and he was bringing hell with him. Olivia Hayes was about to learn the true cost of underestimating patience, and the man she so carelessly discarded. Reborn on the Quarry's Edge
Modern The ground rumbled beneath my worn boots as I washed mason jars, a seemingly ordinary afternoon in my quiet kitchen.
Then, Martha' s scream, thin and sharp with fear, shattered the peace: my mother-in-law was frozen, having stepped on something deadly in the old quarry land.
I called my husband Jack, an ex-Army EOD tech, but his dismissive voice echoed a past life I' d already endured, confirming he was with his mistress Brenda.
He laughed, calling me "hysterical," just as he had when his neglect contributed to Martha' s death once before, refusing to believe his own mother was in danger.
A cold wave of memories washed over me: his past betrayal, Martha' s agonizing death, and his self-serving contempt, all replaying this horrific scene.
Could I really trust him, the man who owed his life to my parents' sacrifice, to save his own mother now when he' d failed so callously?
But this rebirth wasn't just a curse; it was a warning.
I wouldn't let Martha die again.
Drawing on fractured memories of Jack' s EOD training, I stepped onto the live explosive, taking Martha' s place.
A sickening click affirmed my choice, marking the moment I chose defiance and survival – this time, things would be different. The Monster They Made: Now He's Free
Sci-fi My name is Ethan Miller, and my very life was a countdown.
Since childhood, a chilling experiment called "Project Chimera" tied my vitality to the genuine love and acceptance of my adoptive family, the Harrisons, and my fiancée, Olivia.
My existence hinged on their affection – a high "Resonance Score" meant I lived, a plummet meant I died.
For years, I had believed I had it all: a loving home, a woman I cherished, a perfect life.
But then Julian, their biological son, returned, spinning tales of suffering, effortlessly manipulating everyone.
My Resonance Score dipped, then plummeted, as Eleanor and Richard embraced their prodigal son, and Olivia's loyalty shattered.
They turned on me, accusing me of jealousy, ignoring my desperate pleas to expose Julian' s lies, labeling me cruel for questioning their "fragile" Julian.
The physical decline was brutal, a constant reminder of their withdrawing love, culminating in Julian's fabricated "life-threatening condition" needing my liver.
Olivia, my fiancée, the woman I loved, delivered the cruel ultimatum: save him, or our wedding was off.
As I lay on that gurney, about to be carved open for a lie, the overwhelming feeling was not just physical pain, but the crushing realization of their utter betrayal.
I was dying, not from disease, but from a profound lack of the love that sustained me, a love they had twisted into a weapon against me.
But just as the darkness claimed me on the operating table, a cold, clear voice pierced the void: "Host Ethan Miller: Deceased. New mission protocol initiating. Stand by for host reintegration."
Ethan Miller was gone. But something new, something dangerously different, was about to begin. The Gold Digger's True Story
Romance My father' s Medal of Honor sat on my dresser, a stark reminder of sacrifice.
With my mother dying and medical bills crushing us, I agreed to Eleanor Thornton's offer: marry her comatose son, Ethan, for my mother's life.
Five years later, I'd raised Leo and Lily, managing the estate.
Then Ethan awoke.
His first words were a snarl: "She looks like a gold-digger."
With his mother and ex-girlfriend Ashley, he launched a campaign of humiliation, twisting my every action.
They staged a fake poisoning, making me appear malicious.
My defenses fueled their accusations, confirming my supposed greed.
Then came the ultimate threat: he'd gain sole custody, declaring me an unfit mother.
"Ashley will be the mother to my children."
That was the breaking point.
I would not lose my children.
I wrote to General Markwell, my father' s closest friend, invoking the honor he stood for.
The sudden arrival of a JAG officer at our mansion signaled the Thornton family was about to face a power far beyond their influence. The Farm Girl\'s Billionaire Secret
Modern My dad, Marcus Sterling, banished me to a remote Montana ranch after my ill-advised crypto-smoothie investment turned into an SEC headache.
I, Ava Sterling, prodigal daughter of a tech mogul, was serving time for a very expensive lapse in judgment.
All I wanted was a cell signal, a working phone, and to beg my dad for the G650 jet back home.
The ranch, with its endless shoveling and broken fences, felt like a temporary purgatory.
Then, on the eleventh morning, a sleek black Escalade crunched up the gravel driveway.
A woman stepped out, an older, tired reflection of me, introducing herself as Eleanor Vance, my birth mother.
The mother who, according to vague family stories, had vanished when I was a baby.
It was an utterly shocking reunion, one I never anticipated.
Eleanor quickly swept me into her opulent, yet startlingly cold, life in the city.
Her grand house was a blur of shimmering dresses and tailored suits, a world away from my farm attire.
My introduction to her husband, Richard Harrison, and her mean-girl daughter, Chloe, was anything but welcoming.
"What is *that*?" Chloe drawled, her voice dripping with disdain at my mud-caked boots and ripped jeans.
Richard's gaze was ice-cold as he demanded, "Get this… person out of my house."
Despite Eleanor's tearful proclamations that I was "the one we lost," I was met with contempt and immediate rejection.
The DNA test confirmed my identity, yet their attitude toward me only hardened; I was just an inconvenient truth.
Why did this newfound family, after supposedly searching for me for two decades, treat me like an embarrassing relic?
Their shock, their anger, their open scorn for me, the daughter they supposedly yearned for, left me bewildered and quietly seething.
I, Ava Sterling, who was used to being celebrated, was now their dirty secret, a farm girl to be hidden away.
But I wasn't some pitiable charity case; I was a genius accustomed to winning.
As I picked up a plate of roast beef, ignoring their stares, a thought solidified: if they wanted a "farm girl" who was easily underestimated, they would certainly get one.
This was a game, and I was just getting warmed up. Baby Genius: Dad, Where Are You
Romance If it hadn’t been for what transpired on that momentous night, Eva wouldn’t have given birth to her son, Jason. The identity of the father, however, was unknown not only to Jason but also to his mother who didn’t for sure who the father of her son was. Five years later, Eva returned to her hometown and landed a job as a designer at one of the biggest companies in the country, the Dolly Group. Her new fresh new job led her to meet Santosh, CEO of the Dolly Group, an iron-faced devil whose life was shrouded in mystery. On most occasions, he would find himself uninterested by women, but there was something different about Eva that caught his eye. 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. Reborn, I Wed the Untamed Playboy
Bone Possolo On my wedding day to Julian Moretti, the future Mafia Don, I was deliberately sent to the wrong penthouse.
My half-sister Sofia had crawled into my fiancé's bed, leaving me to be discovered by the family's exiled, alcoholic cousin.
In my past life, I was shattered by this orchestrated betrayal. I cried and begged when Julian publicly humiliated me, choosing his illegitimate mistress over his rightful bride.
I played the perfect, dignified Mafia wife for years. I swallowed his insults, ignored his infidelities, and accepted my ruined reputation to keep the peace.
But my blind obedience only paved the way for my murder. Julian discarded me, and I was poisoned to death so Sofia could steal my crown as the Mafia Queen.
Until my agonizing last breath, I didn't understand. I had honored our families' blood alliance flawlessly.
Why was I the sacrificial lamb while they were rewarded for their treason?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the dark leather sofa, suffocating in my heavy silk wedding dress.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener, marched straight into the Don's main study, and slapped the Underboss across the face in front of the entire family.
"A Valdez woman does not share her husband," I declared coldly. "To honor the alliance, I will marry Dante."
If they wanted to make my humiliation a fact, I was going to make it a funeral. 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?" You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. 99 Roses for the Underboss's Wife
Natala O'neal I was the brilliant money launderer for the most feared syndicate on the East Coast, and the fiercely loyal wife of its Underboss, Dante.
While I worked sleepless nights to build his underworld dominion, he secretly diverted my operations to fund a luxury club for his naive barista mistress.
When I confronted them and publicly exposed her, Dante didn't show a shred of guilt.
Instead, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire syndicate.
He draped his tailored jacket over his crying mistress to shield her, then turned his cold eyes on me.
"Apologize to her right now, or I will send every single soldier in your crew to the slaughterhouse."
He then weaponized the mafia's whisper network to destroy my reputation, painting me as a hysterical, paranoid woman just to legitimize his affair.
For years, I had blindly endured his psychological torture, believing my devotion would eventually earn his respect.
But looking at the brutal purple handprint on my cheek, and the ninety-nine dried bouquets of white roses he kept in the attic to carelessly patch over his toxic abuse, my heart finally turned to ice.
I didn't throw a tantrum, nor did I beg for his love anymore.
I left his apology blood diamonds on the table, drafted my mafia severance papers, and walked out of his territory for good.
This time, I would build my own empire, and let him drown in the ruins of his. Reborn To Ruin The Capo's Wedding
Felix Turner My mother is marrying a monster tomorrow.
I'm the only one who remembers.
My widowed mother was arranged to marry Lorenzo, a powerful Mafia Capo. I thought his status would finally bring us protection.
But on the third day of their marriage, Lorenzo moved his pregnant mistress, Camilla, into the estate's master suite.
She loudly claimed the child in her womb was the orphaned blood of a fallen soldier.
"A Capo of Lorenzo's stature is doing your mother a service," the Syndicate wives mocked me, demanding we accept our place.
Camilla systematically seized my mother's territory cuts and subjected her to endless psychological torture, while Lorenzo simply turned a blind eye.
When the baby was born, it bore the exact same distinct birthmark on its neck as Lorenzo.
Only then did we realize Lorenzo had used my mother as a convenient shield for his illicit affair, stealing my dead father's legacy and slowly draining our lives away.
I didn't understand why the Family's brutal justice allowed a thief to siphon funds under the guise of caring for a martyr's widow, leaving us to die in absolute disgrace.
Opening my eyes again, I was back to the day before the mob wedding.
Looking at my six-year-old hands, I grabbed the torn marriage petition and stole the secret trust documents.
This time, I ran straight to the heavily guarded gates of Don Salvatore, the most ruthless executioner in the city. My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" Too Late For Regret, Underboss
LARA MORRISON For two years, my world was circumscribed by the biometric lock on our penthouse and silent prayers for my husband, Vincenzo, the most feared Underboss of the Cosa Nostra.
But when he finally returned from a brutal three-week smuggling route, he tossed me a cheap five-dollar tourist scarf, while his ex-lover Camilla flaunted the flawless pearl necklace he had just bought her.
He abandoned me with a bleeding hand to rush to her side, ignored my severe medical emergencies to comfort her over trivialities, and publicly humiliated me at a Syndicate banquet by seating her in my rightful place at the head of the table.
Camilla cornered me in the powder room, her fragile victim facade dropping instantly as she smirked at my reflection.
"The thing a powerful man fears most isn't a wife who screams. It's a useless one who refuses to bow out gracefully."
I endured his blatant disrespect and broken Omertà, wondering why my unwavering loyalty meant nothing compared to the manipulative tears of a woman who was actively leaking his classified safehouse coordinates.
I didn't understand why he treated his sacred vows like garbage, eagerly feeding her Syndicate intel just to play the big, strong hero while leaving me to face cartel death threats entirely alone.
But I was done being the neglected mafia wife waiting in the shadows.
I calmly activated the covert audio recording device hidden inside my designer clutch.
It was time to present this irrefutable evidence to the Don's Tribunal, strip my husband of his title, and build my own empire. 
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