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Runaway Mistress: The Mafia Boss Begs On His Knees
Mafia The heavy steel door of the industrial meat locker slammed shut, sealing me in at four degrees below zero.
Ten minutes ago, I was the woman Dante Moretti promised to burn the world for.
Now, I was the rat accused of poisoning his heir.
Dante didn’t just lock me in. He looked at me with eyes devoid of warmth and said, "Evidence says otherwise."
He chose the lie of his arranged wife, Sofia, over my truth.
For months, I endured the price of loving the Underboss.
I watched him marry Sofia in a grand ceremony to secure a family alliance.
I let him force me onto a table to drain my blood to save her life when she was injured.
I took twenty lashes from his family’s enforcers, all while he stood by and watched, claiming it was necessary to "protect" me.
He told me to wait. He told me the marriage was a sham.
But when I finally escaped and he came chasing after me, revealing that Sofia was a fraud and he wanted me back, I didn't feel relief.
I felt nothing.
Even after he threw his body over mine to save me from a collapsing building, taking a jagged shard of timber through his chest, I couldn't forgive him.
In the hospital, his mother handed me his journal.
It was filled with entries about his undying love for me, written on the very same days he allowed me to be tortured.
"Tell him the debt is paid," I told his mother as I handed the book back.
"He saved my life. I saved his child. We are even."
I turned my back on the ICU and walked out into the rain.
Dante Moretti might have been willing to die for me, but he never knew how to live for me. Too Late To Beg: The Don's Regret
Mafia I was still bleeding into the mesh underwear the hospital gave me when the photos hit the internet: my husband, the Don, forcing his tongue down his mistress's throat.
Three days ago, that very mistress had shoved me off a yacht.
I lost the baby. I lost my uterus. I was left completely barren.
Yet, when my husband finally called, it wasn't to ask if I was alive.
"The press is eating us alive," Dante barked through the phone. "Send a gift basket to Sofia. Fix this mess."
To make matters worse, his grandmother stood at the foot of my bed, holding the hand of the daughter they had stolen from me at birth.
"Mommy looks like a ghost," my daughter said, her voice devoid of love.
That was the moment the last ember of affection died. I realized I wasn't a wife to them; I was just a broken vessel.
So, when they sneered that I was useless, I didn't cry.
I pulled a black USB drive from under my pillow and threw it on the bed.
"Divorce papers," I said calmly. "And the complete security blueprints of the Moretti Fortress. Every blind spot. Every tunnel I designed."
"Sign the papers and let me go, or I sell this drive to your enemies for one dollar."
I left the country with nothing but the clothes on my back, vanishing into a freezing attic in Paris.
I thought I was finally free.
But three weeks later, Dante kicked down my door, looking at my poverty with horror.
"Come home," he begged, tossing a box of diamonds onto my drafting table. "We can be a family."
I looked at the man who had destroyed me and opened the window.
"You're looking for the girl who loved you," I whispered, throwing the diamonds into the trash alley below.
"But you killed her." Addicted To My Genius Assassin Wife
Mafia My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne.
I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard.
But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power.
I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home?
"Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me.
I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk.
"I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground." The Mafia King's Unwanted Wife Shines
Mafia My husband ordered me to turn around and face the altar. He unbuckled his heavy leather belt, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy.
"You need to learn respect," Dante spat.
He whipped me in the family chapel until my back was a bloody mess. All because his mistress, Sofia, had framed me for breaking his grandfather's urn.
He didn't ask for the truth. He didn't hesitate. He just wanted to punish the wife he considered a burden.
As the belt tore into my skin, I didn't scream. I just counted the memories dying.
He didn't know I was the one who dove into the frozen lake to save him in high school.
He didn't know I was the one who took a knife for him during the ambush.
He believed Sofia's lies that she was his savior.
I had loved him for ten years. I had bled for him. And in return, he scarred me permanently for a crime I didn't commit.
That night, I didn't tend to my wounds. I packed my bags, signed the divorce papers, and swore on the Code of Omertà to never love him again.
Three years later, Dante found my old diary hidden under the floorboards. He read the truth about who really saved him, and realized he had tortured his guardian angel.
He found me in Paris, fell to his knees in a crowded hotel lobby, and begged for forgiveness with tears in his eyes.
I looked at the man who broke me and smiled.
"Lie down and die, Dante," I said softly. "Because I have a life to live." His Apathy, Her Freedom's Dawn
Modern I thought my arranged marriage to the ruthless tycoon Axel Flynn was a love story when he risked his life to save mine.
But when his fragile childhood friend, Alicia, arrived, I saw the truth. He would panic if she got a paper cut, but he didn't bat an eye when I jumped out of planes.
With his blessing, she stole my company, my life' s work. At my own birthday party, he announced her as the new director.
When I screamed the truth, he had me drugged. He threw me into a dark isolation room in the basement for three days, with no food or water, because Alicia claimed I was "unstable."
He dragged me out, weak and broken, and demanded I get on my knees to apologize to the woman who had destroyed me.
I finally understood. His "love" was never love. It was apathy. He simply didn't care if I lived or died.
So, after he believed her final, vicious lie and left me for dead, I took the divorce papers he'd carelessly signed and walked away. This time, for good. Divorce Following Pregnancy
Modern In the third year of their marriage, Liam became infatuated with his new secretary, Lindsay Price.
She was open and bold. Her personal motto was "Fortune favors the bold."
In bed, she knew countless different positions, and outside of it, she accompanied Liam in various thrilling activities.
While he went out with Lindsay, he maintained the facade of a devoted husband by fabricating where he had been to Lillian Walsh.
"I'm not coming home tonight. I was drunk, so I'm sleeping at the office."
Lindsay chuckled beside him. She said with a hint of teasing provocation, "When are you going to divorce that boring old woman?"
The call ended abruptly.
Unbeknownst to them, Lillian was sitting in the Obstetrics and Gynecology department and staring at the pregnancy report at her fingertips. She had been pregnant for six weeks.
After she left the hospital, she called her brother, Ricky Walsh, who was a lawyer. "Ricky, I need you to make a divorce agreement for me."
Ricky paused briefly and then asked, "Are you sure about this?"
Lillian replied calmly, "Yes. I'm pregnant. I plan to keep the baby myself." After Amnesia, I Became Forever Out of His Reach
Romance After a week in a coma caused by a car accident, Grace Miller's boyfriend, Leonard Stone, suddenly regained his memory.
He remembered the girl he longed for but could never have.
So, the first thing Leonard did upon waking was to break up with Grace. "Anything that happened during my memory loss wasn't really my choice. From today, let's go our separate ways. Our relationship doesn't hold anymore."
Grace didn't try to hold him back.
Coincidentally, the new drug research in the lab had just succeeded, and Grace volunteered to participate in the trial.
"Once you take this pill, these memories will be permanently erased. Grace, are you sure about your decision?" I Became Someone Else's Luna
Werewolf I stayed with Ethan Hudson for seven years. He grew bored of me.
He found a younger werewolf girl in the clan.
I didn't plead for him to stay this time.
I discarded the mate-bond stone, burned the protection bracelet I crafted, and left the clan that night.
His friends ridiculed me, wagering how soon I'd beg for reconciliation.
Ethan, arm around his new girl, laughed and said, "Three days tops. She'll come back crying."
Three days passed, then another three, and I never returned.
Ethan couldn't wait any longer and contacted me first. "Sylvie, enough with the tantrum..."
Victor Wilson, his rival, cut in on the phone. "Ethan, you've got to move fast to win someone back. Too late, and a good girl's gone."
Ethan's howl nearly broke the receiver. "Get Sylvie on the phone!"
Victor kissed me softly and said, "She can't. She's worn out from last night and just fell asleep." From His Rejected Omega to the Alpha King's Queen
Werewolf My fated mate, Richard, and I were preparing for our sacred Mating Ceremony, a vow before the Moon Goddess meant to bind our souls for eternity.
But a psychic message slammed into my mind—a weaponized memory sent by his adopted sister, Eva. In it, she was wrapped in Richard's arms while his parents, the Alpha and Luna, beamed with approval.
For the next two weeks, I was forced to play the part of the adoring Omega bride. He would lie about "pack emergencies" to run to her, leaving me alone in a gown shop while she sent me visions of their trysts.
His parents stripped me of the project I had poured my soul into for two years, handing it to Eva as a gift. They called me a weak-blooded Omega, unworthy of their son.
Meanwhile, Eva sent me an audio clip of Richard promising her she would be the one to carry his strong heir, not me.
They all thought I was a pathetic, disposable pawn in their twisted game. They were waiting for me to break.
They had no idea I was secretly the heir to the most powerful pack on the continent. And I had already arranged for our Mating Ceremony to be broadcast globally, turning their sacred day into the stage for their ultimate humiliation. The Unshackled: A Hacker's Retribution
Modern On the night of her twenty-sixth birthday, Eliana Walker pushed her wheelchair through bar after bar, scouring every club in sight.
It wasn't until she received a call from the police station that her search for Lucien Lane came to an end.
"Is this Ms. Walker? Mr. Lane got drunk and started a fight. We need you to come down here."
After hanging up, Eliana rubbed warmth into her stiff fingers, unsure whether to feel relief or sorrow.
Before dawn, she finally reached the police station, just in time to see Lucien erupting in fury, "Who the hell told you to call her? Sure, she saved my life-but those useless crippled legs have shackled me for ten damn years! If she weren't Ethan's sister, I would've thrown a few million at her to be done with it long ago!"
Shards from the shattered bottle sprayed through the air, one slashing across Eliana's face.
Her face was slick with wetness-she couldn't tell if it was blood or tears.
With trembling hands, Eliana dialed a number.
She drew in a deep breath, her voice resolute, "Send out the message worldwide, the Anonymous hacker alliance will no longer offer any support to Lucien Lane's company. If any hackers want to test the strength of Lane Corporation's firewall, be my guest." His Regret, My Freedom
Romance The call came on a sunny Tuesday, a day promising peace, as I reviewed blueprints in my home office.
Then, my phone vibrated with his name: Ethan Carter, my husband.
"Chloe," he said, his voice cold and distant, "We need to get a divorce."
He wanted to give "her" legitimate status; he' d met someone.
I simply leaned back, my voice flat, "Okay. Then we should do that."
He hung up, without a proper goodbye, after arranging for his lawyer to draft the generous settlement papers.
My best friend, Maya, on the other hand, exploded, "That son of a bitch! After everything you' ve done for him!"
Her fury was a storm I couldn't feel, my own emotions a placid lake.
"He wants to give 'the other woman' legitimate status," I recited, the words foreign on my tongue.
Maya vowed to burn his suits and sue him for every penny, insisting I was in shock.
"It' s okay," I told her, a tired smile touching my lips. "I also had an affair."
A different kind of silence fell.
"And another thing," I added, looking at my perfect blueprints, "His affair? I arranged it." My Father's Daughter: Unstoppable
Fantasy The acrid smell of burning plastic filled my lungs, a scent that brought back chilling memories.
I was trapped, a massive server rack crushing my leg, as sparks flew and a hellish glow illuminated the terrified face of Tiffany, my boyfriend Liam's "friend."
This was it, the moment everything went wrong. Again.
Just like in my last life, Liam burst in, scanned the chaotic scene, and without hesitation, rushed to Tiffany, who was barely coughing, leaving me shattered and bleeding under the rack.
He looked back, his eyes cold, muttering that Tiffany's family were key investors, and saving her was "for the greater good." He dismissed my crushed leg, promising to come back, then turned his back and vanished with Tiffany, leaving me for dead in a room about to explode.
I stared at the man who had murdered me in my previous life, making the exact same choice, offering the exact same excuse.
But this time, I wouldn't beg. This time, I was alive, miraculously saved by my brave friend, Maya. And this time, I was done. Dead bodies don' t get a second chance at revenge-but I did. No Second Chances for Treachery
Modern I poured my life, my inheritance, and my soul into Redwood Creek Brewery. As a gesture of love and trust, I made Olivia, my fiancée of seven years, CEO, gifting her 51% of the shares. Or so I thought.
Then the news hit: Olivia was pregnant. With Mark' s baby. Mark, her college ex, who I'd just hired as COO. Suddenly, my fiancée was marrying my COO, and I was just the guy who made the beer.
They turned my office into a humiliating nursery. Olivia demoted me to Mark' s assistant. They gleefully watched as Mark 'accidentally' ruined a crucial hops contract I' d just secured. Olivia's condescending calls about me "keeping the money flowing for them" felt like a constant knife twist. They even used company funds-my company' s funds!-to buy my childhood home, only to trash it immediately.
Every humiliation, every snide remark, fueled a cold, silent rage within me. They thought I was shattered, easy to discard. They believed I was just the pathetic founder no one remembered, too weak to fight back.
But they had no idea. Absolutely no idea what was coming. For months, I' d held a secret: a notarized share transfer agreement, signed by Olivia herself, making me the 91% owner. They thought it was a formality for a phony loan. I called it their eviction notice. Next Monday, I walked in, not as the loyal Head Brewer, but as the indisputable owner. Their nightmare began. When The Dead Speak: Sarah's Journal
Fantasy I hovered, a restless spirit, above the opulent ballroom of the Fairmont Copley Plaza.
This grand wedding, shimmering with laughter and clinking champagne flutes, celebrated Ethan Astor and Olivia Miller.
It should have been my wedding to Ethan.
But I was dead, reduced to a convenient scandal weeks ago, my tragic "overdose" a footnote in their perfect lives.
Below, society whispered, calling me "difficult" and "ungrateful," while my adoptive parents, the Millers, who once tossed my few possessions like trash, warmly embraced their "true" daughter.
They believed Ethan' s carefully doctored photos and the lies that framed my fall from grace.
No one among these glittering guests knew about the Lupus eating me alive, the relentless pain, or the crushing exhaustion that ultimately consumed me.
They simply saw Sarah, the troubled heiress, a messy problem conveniently gone.
The injustice, the quiet suffering they willfully ignored, burned colder than my ghostly form.
Then, during what should have been Ethan' s charming speech, Olivia, the new bride, stood.
She held up a small, sleek USB drive, her eyes firm.
"I have something to share," she announced, her voice echoing.
"A final message. From Sarah."
My breath, if I had one, would have hitched.
My most private journal, my very words, were about to silence their celebration, with the police already waiting outside. The Thanksgiving Takedown
Modern My parents' murder left me an empty shell, and my fiancée's abandonment poured salt on the wound. I was drowning.
Then, at their funeral, a lifeline appeared: my ex-fiancée's sister, Detective Sarah Davis, publicly proposed, vowing to bring their killers to justice. I said yes, desperately clutching onto her promise.
Five years passed. The case grew cold. My world crumbled again when I overheard Sarah, my wife, deliberately stonewalling leads.
The killer? Michael Vance, my ex's new husband.
My blood ran cold as I heard Sarah pledge to do "anything to protect him," revealing a sickening loyalty that twisted my insides.
The truth hit me like a physical blow: my marriage was a calculated performance, every comforting word a lie. She wasn't just covering up; she was protecting my parents' killer, actively erasing me from their family's narrative. How could the woman I trusted betray me so utterly for the man who destroyed my life?
After she physically attacked me to shield Michael during a Thanksgiving blow-up – publicly choosing him over me – I knew what I had to do.
I systematically gathered irrefutable evidence of their conspiracy, faked my own death, and set the wheels of justice in motion from the shadows. Now, 'Ethan Miller' is dead, but the man he was lives to see justice served, on his own terms. You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. He Erased Me, I Erased Him First
Lan Zhen On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies. The Mafia King's Runaway Genius Wife
Huo Wuer I was married to the Dark Don of New York, but to the Trevino family, I was just collateral.
While I was suffering from agonizing acute appendicitis, my husband forced me out into the freezing rain just to watch him parade his mistress in front of the city's elite.
When I handed him the annulment papers and begged for my freedom, he coldly burned them to ashes right in front of my face.
He watched me collapse on the floor in blinding pain, completely ignoring my deathly pale skin.
"Stop this pathetic performance. If you aren't ready for the gala by seven, I will throw your grandfather into a state facility."
His mistress even mocked my illness, handing me raw oysters with a victorious smirk while he looked at me with pure disgust.
I finally understood that in this gilded cage, my life meant absolutely nothing to him.
If I stayed, I would die here—either from a ruptured appendix or from his suffocating cruelty.
So, I took a heavy dose of painkillers, threw my diamond ring into the river, and emptied the family's hidden safe.
When he finally cornered me in a dark alley to drag me back, I shoved the real annulment papers into his chest.
"Touch me, and I will scream until every rat in this city hears me."
I stepped into the getaway cab, taking the master copies of his smuggling ledgers with me.
It was time to burn his empire to the ground. Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge
Lunacy Heidi gripped the sterile hospital bedsheets as violent contractions ripped her body apart.
The heavy door opened, but it wasn't the doctor. It was Brigette, wearing the exact custom wedding dress Heidi had spent six months designing for herself.
Brigette held up her phone on speaker. When the doctor warned that a natural delivery would kill the mother, Christian Page's voice echoed through the room, ice-cold and devoid of any warmth.
"Prioritize the Page heirs. Let her die."
The man she loved had just signed her death warrant over the phone.
Brigette stole her newborn twins, dragged her to an abandoned warehouse, and poured gasoline over her bare legs.
Flicking a lit cigar into the puddle, Brigette left Heidi tied to an iron pillar to burn alive.
But as the flames formed a deadly circle around her, Heidi's body convulsed with a terrifying truth.
In the heart of the blazing inferno, she miraculously gave birth to two more babies she didn't know she was carrying.
Using her own back as a human shield against the falling embers, she survived the fire, but the ultimate betrayal burned deeper than her ruined skin.
Four years later, Heidi returned to New York with a reconstructed face, two brilliant children, and a terrifying new identity as the world's top underground surgeon.
When Christian, entirely unaware of who she was, signed a waiver begging her to save his dying grandfather's life, Heidi looked into his desperate eyes with absolute, clinical boredom.
"The game starts now," she said coldly. The Discarded Wife Is A Mafia Queen
Shore Tour I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire.
On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own.
"Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy."
My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry.
He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance.
I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever.
Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network.
The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun. 
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