Tabbie Platt
15 Published Stories
Tabbie Platt's Books and Stories
He Stole My Blueprint, I Stole His Empire
Mafia I was the hidden architect behind the Moretti mafia family's billion-dollar empire. My capo fiancé, Gianni, used to bring me coffee and murmur grand promises of protection.
But at two in the morning, he sent a blunt text demanding my master decryption keys. Attached was a photo of his new fiancée, the Underboss's niece, wearing a massive blood diamond bought with my hard work.
He had coldly dumped me, claiming my independence was a defect for a mafia wife. Now, he was presenting my flawless smuggling blueprint to the Commission, listing himself as the mastermind and his new prize as the architect. My name was completely scrubbed from the records.
He actually expected me to quietly hand over the core security codes so he wouldn't look like a fool in front of the bosses. He treated me like a disposable tool, meant to bleed for a syndicate that stole my genius to enrich a parasite.
"Port logistics keys. Now. Francesca is having a fit and I have to deal with it."
I stared at his arrogant message, a creeping chill of absolute rage washing over me. He really thought I would just obediently submit and watch him build his kingdom on my back.
I looked at the chat window where my habitual "Yes, Capo" was already typed.
I deleted it.
Instead, I snapped my burner phone in half, packed my original files, and took my master blueprint straight to the most feared Don in the underworld. He Took the Cure,I Became the Legend
Werewolf I was attacked by Rogues on border patrol and severely poisoned by silver rain.
I dragged my burning body back to the packhouse, expecting my boyfriend of five years, the future Alpha, to save me.
Instead, Jason just complained that I was tracking mud on his expensive leather shoes.
He went straight to the medicine cabinet and took all three of our remaining magical healing potions.
I begged him to leave just one vial for me, as the silver poison was literally boiling my blood.
"Stop behaving like a fragile Omega," he snapped.
Then, he left to give all the life-saving potions to his Beta secretary, Chloe.
Her life-threatening emergency? She had caught a slight chill from walking to her car in the rain.
As I lay dying on the living room rug, I heard him mind-link her, promising to buy her a limited-edition sports car to comfort her.
The five years of love and loyalty I had given him instantly turned to dust.
He assumed I would just swallow the humiliation, thinking I was throwing a childish tantrum to get his attention.
But as my ancient White Wolf bloodline miraculously awakened to heal my ruined body, my heart went completely cold.
I didn't cry or beg him to look at me again.
I packed my bags, officially severed my bond with his pack, and walked right into the arms of my true Fated Mate. The Unwanted Omega's Hidden Royal Blood
Werewolf For six years, I was the secret Omega mate of Jackson, the future Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack.
He kept me hidden in the slums, terrified my low status would ruin his flawless reputation.
During the full moon festival, I fell into a Rogue's brutal trap.
Instead of saving me, my Fated Mate hesitated at the edge of the ravine, turned his back, and walked away to flirt with a high-ranking Beta female.
Because of his choice, I lay screaming in the cold mud, and our unborn pup died before it ever truly lived.
When I woke up in the hospital, he didn't apologize.
"Everyone was watching. I cannot risk my standing by diving into a ditch for a clumsy Omega."
He gladly accepted my mate rejection, mocking that I would never survive in this world without him.
A month later, after digging through my medical records, he finally discovered I had been pregnant.
He cornered me on the street, demanding I return to the pack to protect his royal heir.
I slapped the fetal demise consent form against his chest, watching his arrogant certainty shatter into pieces.
He murdered his own child for his vanity, yet he still believed he could command me to come back.
But I was no longer the pathetic Omega he had discarded.
My hidden royal White Wolf blood had awakened, and Dominic, the most powerful Alpha in North America, had just claimed me as his Second Chance Mate.
This time, I would watch Jackson rot in the dirt. Jilted Ex? I'm The Lost Heiress
Modern I sat in the corner booth of a high-end restaurant, clutching a velvet-wrapped box to celebrate the multi-million dollar funding I had just secured for our company.
My boyfriend, Wayne, finally walked in forty-five minutes late, but he wasn't alone. My best friend Jessica was clinging to his arm, her hand resting protectively over a twelve-week baby bump.
"We’re breaking up, Lana," Wayne said, refusing to even look at me. "Jessica fits the image of a CEO’s wife better. Investors want pedigree, and your orphan background is a liability for the IPO."
When I refused to hand over my patents for a measly severance check, the betrayal turned physical. His mother called me a "gutter rat" and threw a bowl of scalding soup onto my neck, while Wayne threatened to sue me for corporate espionage to ruin my reputation. They threw me out of the apartment I helped pay for, laughing as I stood on the sidewalk with nothing but a duffel bag and a burned shoulder.
I couldn't wrap my head around the cruelty. How could the man I built a pharmaceutical empire for treat me like a disposable parasite? Did they honestly believe I was a nameless nobody they could just erase after stealing my life’s work?
But as Wayne stepped out to mock me one last time, a fleet of silver Rolls Royces pulled up to the curb, boxing in his car and stopping traffic.
A man in white gloves stepped out and bowed deeply toward me.
"Welcome home, Miss Delacroix," he said, his voice echoing across the street. "Your parents have been waiting twenty years for this moment."
Wayne watched in frozen horror as I stepped into the luxury car, finally realizing that the "orphan" he had just discarded was actually the long-lost heir to the most powerful family in the country. Trapped By The Possessive Esports God
Modern I was a Twitch streamer who got publicly humiliated by my toxic ex-boyfriend during a live broadcast. To save face, I blurted out a massive lie.
I claimed that "Killer," the untouchable god of the esports world, was actively pursuing me. But just ten minutes after I panic-quit my stream, the doorbell rang, and the esports god himself was standing at my front door with a suitcase.
"I'm the new roommate. I have nowhere else to go," he said, looking like a lost golden retriever hiding from crazy fans.
He moved into my apartment, acting entirely sweet and helpless. He couldn't even put on a duvet cover, but he made me a perfect breakfast and gently cared for me when I got hurt. He looked so genuinely innocent that I felt sick with absolute guilt for using his name for internet clout. When my ex's fans organized a massive hate campaign against me, I aggressively tweeted back to protect my new roommate's honor, doubling down on my lie.
But I didn't understand why he immediately liked my tweet, sending the entire internet into a total meltdown. I thought he was just a pure, naive gamer following his manager's PR advice to defuse the drama.
I had no idea that behind his polite smile, he wasn't innocent at all. He was a ruthless, obsessive predator who had already manipulated his way into my home, and I had just locked myself in a cage with him. Mistaken Identity: Loving The Wrong Twin Sister
Mafia I replaced my twin sister in a marriage contract to the ruthless Mafia Don, Donovan Blackwood.
For three years, I was a ghost in his home, silently enduring his coldness while he flaunted his mistress, Chloe.
On the very last day of our contract, Chloe staged an accident.
Donovan didn't hesitate.
He forced me to drain my blood to save her life.
Then, to prove his loyalty to her, he drove me to the cliffs and pushed me into the freezing ocean.
He even locked me in a cellar infested with spiders—my deepest phobia—because she lied and said I threatened her.
He thought he was punishing the spoiled, arrogant Isabella.
He didn't know he was breaking Ava, the woman who had silently memorized his allergies and waited up for him in the dark every single night.
When I finally took my fifty million dollars and vanished, I left behind nothing but the divorce papers and a photo revealing the truth.
He tore the city apart, destroying my family to find me, only to realize he had tortured the wrong woman.
Now, he is standing on my porch in the pouring rain, staring in horror at the simple wooden ring on my finger given to me by another man.
He falls to his knees, begging for a chance to love the wife he tried to destroy.
I look at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
"It's too late, Donovan," I say, locking the door. "You killed her." He Called Off Our Forever
Modern Tonight, my boyfriend of seven years, Benjamin Kane, was supposed to propose. Our future was a perfect picture, planned down to the last detail.
But a single phone call shattered it all. A mysterious voice convinced him I was a gold digger who would ruin him, and that another woman, Jenna Christian, was his true soulmate.
He called off our engagement on the spot.
That was only the beginning of my nightmare. I was stalked by a man obsessed with Jenna, a confrontation that ended with me falling from a rooftop and shattering my arm. Then, I was kidnapped by a shady agency, trapped by a contract Jenna had signed in my name. I was living the horrific fate that was meant for her.
Benjamin, the man who promised me forever, abandoned me to suffer while defending the very woman who orchestrated my torment.
Lying in a hospital bed, I received an acceptance letter for a design scholarship in Paris. It was my only escape. I took it, leaving behind the man who broke me and the life he destroyed. Fatal Affair, Fated Love
Romance Three days before my wedding, I held the invitations, a bright future with Chloe Davis unfolding before me. I decided to surprise her at her final dress fitting, full of stupid, happy optimism.
But through the boutique window, I saw her with Ethan Miller, her "first love," the broke con artist I'd repeatedly paid off at Chloe's tearful request. Then, hidden in an alley, I heard their conversation: my meticulously planned life was a calculated scam.
She called me "pathetic," a "tool," a "walking ATM." She even bragged about how easy I was to manipulate. My five years of pouring everything into her-paying off her loans, buying her a car and her mother a condo, giving Ethan tens of thousands-all of it was a lie designed to extract every penny before she discarded me.
The invitations slipped from my numb fingers, scattering on the dirty asphalt as memories flooded back, each sweet moment now tainted with cold, cynical calculation. My heart, once full, was now a charred, worthless spot.
The most horrific truth came out when she intentionally crashed our car on the freeway, shattering my leg. She escaped untouched, called Ethan, and left me for dead, only to flaunt her Vegas trip with him on social media, using my credit card, while I fought for my life.
I was broken, not just by her betrayal, but by the realization that she hadn' t just hurt me; she had actively despised me, plotting to destroy me and even poisoning my mother to hasten my inheritance.
But I wouldn't just be used and discarded. No. This was no longer about a broken heart. This was about my mother. This was about justice. Forged In Fire: A Family's Fight
Modern My brother Andrew was our family's only hope, his Penn State scholarship a golden ticket out of this dead-end, rust-belt town.
But that dream shattered on the football field with a sickening crack, as Wesley Fowler, scion of the ruthless family who owned half the town, delivered a dirty, career-ending hit to Andrew's knee.
In the hospital, Wesley threw five hundred dollars at me, sneering that Andrew "should have known his place."
His goons later cornered me outside, shoving me against a brick wall, reminding me that "dead soldier's kids" were "nothing" and that the Fowlers "own the cops, the school, this whole damn town."
Our cries for justice were met with chilling indifference; the sheriff dismissed it as "boys will be boys," and the school revoked Andrew' s scholarship, citing false rumors and Lester Fowler's "donations."
An eviction notice appeared, a vicious online smear campaign painted us as violent thugs, and Andrew, once so full of life, withered in despair, whispering, "I wish I had died."
How could they get away with this, destroying an innocent life and crushing a family, simply because they were rich and powerful?
Drowning in a darkness so profound it felt like the end, I remembered my father' s Special Forces medals and his unit' s motto: "Leave no one behind."
My father's brothers in arms were our last hope, and I would drive a thousand miles to find them. When Loyalty Crumbles
Romance After a year overseas building a skyscraper that put our firm on the map, all I wanted was to get back home to my wife, Jenny.
But the moment I saw her at the airport, my world tilted; she was visibly pregnant, at least five months along, and the baby wasn't mine.
Her chilling explanation? It was her childhood friend Wes' s child, his "only chance," and she expected me to embrace this "sacrifice" as a twisted form of debt repayment for a "perfect marriage image."
Then, Wes moved into our home, a constant, smug reminder of my betrayal, culminating in Jenny slapping me and labeling me a "violent drunk" when I dared to defend myself against his taunts.
I couldn't fathom how the woman I loved could so coldly betray me and then blame me, but as I prepared to leave, I stumbled upon a flash drive she'd left, hinting at a truth far darker than I could imagine-a hidden plot that would force me to fight not for a broken marriage, but for her very safety. Stolen Genius, Reclaimed Fate
Young Adult My whole life was focused on one goal: Harvard.
I was Sarah Miller, the academic star, future astrophysicist, and that scholarship was my family's only way out of our small New England town.
Just days after acing another SAT practice test, my best friend Chloe, with her cheerleader ponytail swinging, handed me a shiny "friendship locket" for good luck.
Suddenly, my perfect scores plummeted, while Chloe' s, who usually struggled, inexplicably soared.
Then, a chilling conversation overheard outside the library confirmed my worst fears: Chloe and Ethan, my childhood friend and the boy I might have loved, had deliberately used the cursed antique locket from Mr. Abernathy' s shop to swap my academic luck for Chloe' s gain.
My actual SAT scores were a disaster, shattering my Harvard dream and my mother's hopes as her health faltered under the stress.
Ethan, to shield Chloe from a plagiarism charge, brazenly framed me, leading to my National Honor Society revocation, lost scholarships, and public humiliation as a "cheater."
Later, after Ethan rushed off to save Chloe, leaving me besieged by a vengeful clique vandalizing my car, he returned only to plant fabricated evidence that caused my mother to collapse.
How could my closest friends, who should have been my anchors, orchestrate such a cruel, calculated betrayal, then watch my life unravel without a flicker of remorse?
The injustice burned, transforming my despair into a cold, sharp rage.
They believed they had dealt with the 'naive bookworm' and that I would just "be fine."
They were profoundly mistaken. My revenge would begin by turning their own vile magic against them. The Unwanted Husband's Unexpected Power
Billionaires I had long embraced my role as the quiet, unremarkable husband, often ridiculed for supposedly failing at business and living off my wife, Brittany.
My marriage was a pact, a secret agreement with her father to save his struggling retail empire.
For years, I patiently endured Brittany’s public mockery, casual disrespect, and blatant infidelity with her personal trainer, Chad.
I let the stinging whispers of "kept man" wash over me, maintaining my carefully crafted facade.
But at tonight’s glittering charity ball, her cruelty escalated.
She shamelessly paraded Chad, then, scoffing at my "lack of ambition," she dramatically produced divorce papers.
In front of high society, she thrust them into my hands, sneering that I was a burden and she never wanted me.
The room erupted in snickers, the crowd visibly reveling in my supposed humiliation, assuming I would beg.
They believed I was truly a nobody, a pathetic freeloader, easily discarded.
Years of my patience, enduring this charade for a sacred promise, vanished in that moment.
Their smug faces, her utter betrayal—did she truly believe I was the penniless man she so gleefully cast aside?
I calmly accepted the divorce, a decision that visibly stunned everyone in the ballroom.
Then, during the ongoing charity auction, as she brazenly flaunted her wealth, I began to subtly bid against her, defying her by one dollar at a time.
I had given her countless chances, but tonight, something truly had to break.
My carefully constructed facade finally shattered, and it was time for them all to witness the true identity of the man they had been so arrogantly mocking. Reborn Heiress: His Regret, Her Reign
Billionaires Emily Winston, heiress to the powerful Winston Media Group, led a seemingly perfect life, engaged to Ethan Hawke, the charismatic heir of Hawke Energy.
Their corporate fairy tale shattered when she discovered Ethan in their marital bed with Sophia Bell, her father's illegitimate daughter.
Despite his tearful pleas, the betrayal ran deep. Ethan’s resentment, fueled by his belief Emily orchestrated Sophia’s quiet exile, poisoned their marriage and her very existence.
Corporate sabotage followed: leaked secrets, crumbling strategies, her family's empire ravaged. Her beloved grandfather and frail mother withered under the immense stress, gone too soon.
Emily herself met a brutal end, run down by a truck on a rain-slicked street, the very day she learned she was pregnant.
A life stolen, a legacy destroyed—a cruel cosmic joke. Why had her love, her loyalty, been met with such utter devastation?
But then, she woke up, back on her 25th birthday, gifted an impossible second chance.
This time, Emily would rewrite her story, protect her family, and forge a new destiny.
Yet, across the opulent ballroom, her eyes met Ethan Hawke’s, and a chilling, stark recognition flickered in their depths.
He remembered. He had reborned too.
This changed everything. At Twenty Weeks, He Faked My Miscarriage
Billionaires For a decade, I was Amelia Ross, the Upper East Side's most publicly humiliated wife.
Page Six kept a running tally of my husband Jared Sterling's affairs, a humiliating "Sterling's Scorecard."
My entire independent design career, my peace of mind, even my very identity, had been sacrificed to protect the Sterling family's gilded facade.
Then, with surgical cruelty, Jared orchestrated a "routine check-up" during my twenty-week pregnancy.
It ended not with a healthy heartbeat, but a fabricated miscarriage report and a hefty gag order.
"You're not fit to carry a Sterling heir," he sneered, tossing the paperwork at me as he celebrated with Kendra Bell, his latest "passion muse."
My heart, already a mosaic of fractures from 99 prior betrayals, shattered into dust.
While Jared and Kendra toasted their "undying love," my baby was gone, a life stolen, and my agony dismissed as inconvenient.
The public, his family, even Jared himself, expected me to collapse, to beg for forgiveness, to cling to the wreckage of our marriage like I always had.
They expected tears, desperation, and another humiliating plea.
But the hundredth cut didn't break me; it forged me anew.
From that moment on, I didn't just walk away; I turned the page, ready to build an empire of my own, free from the Sterling name, ready to redefine what "Amelia Ross" truly meant. 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.
Carved From My Body, His Regret
Ive Gutterson My eyes struggled open, but a heavy weight held them shut. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cold hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a cruel reminder of my mother's death. I, Elena Vitiello, who controlled everything, was now helpless, reduced to a slab of meat.
Then I heard his footsteps. Dante. My husband, my anchor. But his voice was chillingly devoid of warmth as he ordered, "Do not increase the dosage. I will not risk damaging the organ's viability." The organ. My mind went blank, ice filling my veins.
Trapped and unable to move, I realized Dante saw me only as a "political placeholder," never loving me. He was having my kidney removed, carved from my body like livestock, to save his mistress, Sofia-the woman whose messes I'd cleaned for ten years. His hand, usually my comfort, smeared away my tear with sheer disgust.
The scalpel tore into my flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony. Every tug and pull hollowed me out, stripping away my potential, my love, my future. How could the man I bled for reduce me to a mere object, a spare part for his true love? The sheer insult of it fueled a volcanic rage.
As my kidney was lifted out, the final illusion of our marriage shattered completely. My fear dissolved, replaced by a chilling, absolute calm. The darkness that embraced me was not defeat, but the coiling silence of a viper preparing to strike. This kidney was not a sacrifice. It was the down payment for Dante Moretti's life. 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. The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Comeback
Baxy Koseluk I was the dutiful wife of Julian, a ruthless Capo in the Chicago Syndicate.
Six months ago, my convoy was ambushed by a rival cartel.
While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor of the car, my husband was on the phone with his mistress, Mia.
"Lock your doors, stay inside," he told her, never once asking if I was alive.
I survived, only to watch him flaunt his betrayal.
He brought his mistress into our home, booked her luxury suites in Tokyo, and bought her massive diamonds with Syndicate funds.
When I refused to play the part of his obedient, blind wife, he publicly humiliated me and orchestrated rumors to isolate me.
He thought I was just collateral, a powerless figurehead he could control and eventually discard to settle his debts.
I had endured this loveless marriage to survive in the family, yet he treated me worse than dirt while elevating a mistress who knew nothing of our world.
I was suffocating in a cage of neglect, enraged by the audacity of a coward who broke every sacred vow.
So, I took off my vulgar wedding ring and left it on his bathroom sink.
I picked up my phone and sent a message to Dante Falcone, the exiled heir who had stitched my flesh back together in secret.
This time, I chose to burn my husband's empire to the ground. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." 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. Pampered By The Rival Syndicate Don
Jing Yue As I lay in the cold underground clinic, terminating the unborn heir of the city's most feared mafia underboss, my phone lit up.
My fiancé of seven years had just publicly pledged his protection and a home-cooked meal to his ex-lover, moments after telling me to risk a deadly ambush by ordering takeout.
When I returned to our penthouse, bleeding and broken, he didn't even notice.
He gave my specialized prenatal milk to his ex because she had a "delicate stomach," leaving me only a hollowed-out egg white and dry crusts.
When I begged him to stay, he violently kicked my packed suitcase across the marble floor.
"Elena's medical needs take priority right now," he snapped, rushing out because his ex felt cold.
He even blocked my secure number when I frantically tried to reach him one last time.
For seven years, we had built an empire together.
I couldn't understand how a past flame playing the fragile doe could make him discard my life and our child's existence so callously, treating me like worthless scraps.
Sitting in the empty penthouse, I wiped my tears and opened the global Syndicate network.
"My betrothal to Vincent is officially dissolved. Act accordingly."
I powered down my phone, grabbed my tactical gear, and boarded a private jet to leave his territory forever. The Mafia Bride's Lethal Revenge
Norrra To save my crumbling family, I was married off to Julian Moretti, the terrifying Underboss of the Chicago mafia.
But he didn't even wait for the wedding reception to end before slipping Rohypnol into my champagne.
I woke up on the cold marble floor of the penthouse, only to see my new husband sleeping with his long-time mistress right in front of me.
He dragged my unconscious body there just to let me wake up to this humiliation, to show me I was nothing but discarded trash.
When I escaped and returned home for help, my father threw a heavy crystal glass at my head.
"You ruined us, you stupid bitch! Go back and beg for his mercy!"
My stepmother cursed me for not knowing my place, while I discovered they had been embezzling my dead mother's trust fund to pay off debts.
Even worse, the mistress in my husband's bed was actually my father's illegitimate daughter.
My own family had served me to a Capo's bed just to beg for scraps, sacrificing my life for their beloved bastard.
They all thought I was just the obedient, fragile Rossi princess they could easily manipulate and feed to the wolves.
They expected me to cry, surrender, and let them bleed me dry.
But the fragile mafia princess they knew was already dead.
In her place, the dormant instincts of "Seraph"—the lethal Mossad operative I used to be—snapped awake.
I wiped my husband's blood off my knuckles, stepped over his groaning body, and made a deal with his deadliest rival.
This time, I'm going to burn their entire empire to the ground. 
/1/119568/coverorgin.jpg?v=64b24421e8372acf4f3acddc34d89afa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/119423/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c16e884bc8c54e6261cc6166517b2f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117794/coverorgin.jpg?v=447d150537d0b15c6d22b4db055b4590&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116354/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260528195710&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115009/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1f034fa26e6dab1c7f4d9654d182231&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104703/coverorgin.jpg?v=8043da784c3a05bbc8de63cf9d0b415f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/99646/coverorgin.jpg?v=5e741d75c7b90b3729d4e12473e023c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86206/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211349&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84180/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106203900&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84105/coverorgin.jpg?v=8356d8b4316505b827102de8af706fff&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81372/coverorgin.jpg?v=4b27313979b873105104bedd91d468b7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80723/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106193937&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80596/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5caa6cc3f6a029e9a39294e5e276706&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80412/coverorgin.jpg?v=817e735def5172a4d9df0b2fff74b9ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61539/coverorgin.jpg?v=20241226171447&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=97365198d2e42e4794a57a69368cfbf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=4deabceeb44e4aed4e042acc3656d345&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114456/coverorgin.jpg?v=fda875dee16879cf8abd69e56fedd57c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114174/coverorgin.jpg?v=58b43c00acdc183a5fd7255a87763358&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/118856/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ebae4a8d24523e4b34faf973ae8837f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd5a88eb49b6856c724b675835423101&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106734/coverorgin.jpg?v=ad31772fc52e3d09094837705a47a1fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116914/coverorgin.jpg?v=764bdc91b545e4c360548ce3ddf572ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/90937/coverorgin.jpg?v=baf378725283cd23130151d1a68d32d3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114543/coverorgin.jpg?v=84176567927eb66a95878ec720019be3&imageMogr2/format/webp)