He Chose The Mistress, I Took Everything

He Chose The Mistress, I Took Everything

Gavin

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On the night of our fifth anniversary, I wasn't drinking champagne. I was standing in the shadows of my husband's study, clutching an encrypted drive I found taped behind our wedding photo. It contained the blueprints to a life Dante was building with another woman-Sofia Ricci, the daughter of our sworn enemy. He wasn't just cheating on me. He was using the Port Redevelopment project I had spent two years designing to launder the money he needed to run away with her. When I confronted him, Dante didn't beg for forgiveness. He looked at me with the cold indifference of a Capo and told me to fix my face for dinner. The humiliation didn't stop there. He forced me to share a car with his mistress while my ankle was swollen and throbbing from a fall. He fussed over Sofia's "delicate" motion sickness while ignoring my pain completely. "Elena is sturdy," he dismissed. Sturdy. Like a mule. Like a table he owned. He even stripped me of my rank, handing my multi-million dollar operation to Sofia simply because she had a "vision" for glass walls. He thought I was just a compliant wife, a placeholder to keep his books clean while he played house with his true love. He forgot that while he was the muscle, I was the architect. So, at the Family Gala, wearing a backless revenge dress, I didn't just ask for a separation. I threw a glass of champagne in his face and announced to the entire underworld that the accounts were empty. I didn't just leave him. I took the encryption keys, the money, and his entire future with me.

Chapter 1

On the night of our fifth anniversary, I wasn't drinking champagne. I was standing in the shadows of my husband's study, clutching an encrypted drive I found taped behind our wedding photo.

It contained the blueprints to a life Dante was building with another woman-Sofia Ricci, the daughter of our sworn enemy.

He wasn't just cheating on me. He was using the Port Redevelopment project I had spent two years designing to launder the money he needed to run away with her.

When I confronted him, Dante didn't beg for forgiveness. He looked at me with the cold indifference of a Capo and told me to fix my face for dinner.

The humiliation didn't stop there.

He forced me to share a car with his mistress while my ankle was swollen and throbbing from a fall. He fussed over Sofia's "delicate" motion sickness while ignoring my pain completely.

"Elena is sturdy," he dismissed.

Sturdy. Like a mule. Like a table he owned.

He even stripped me of my rank, handing my multi-million dollar operation to Sofia simply because she had a "vision" for glass walls.

He thought I was just a compliant wife, a placeholder to keep his books clean while he played house with his true love.

He forgot that while he was the muscle, I was the architect.

So, at the Family Gala, wearing a backless revenge dress, I didn't just ask for a separation.

I threw a glass of champagne in his face and announced to the entire underworld that the accounts were empty.

I didn't just leave him. I took the encryption keys, the money, and his entire future with me.

Chapter 1

Elena Vitiello POV:

On the night of our fifth anniversary, I stood in the shadows of my husband's study, clutching a military-grade encrypted drive.

It contained the blueprints to a life my husband was building with another woman.

And if I didn't crack the code before he walked through the door, I would continue to be the unwitting architect of an empire that was never meant for me to rule.

The metal casing of the drive was cold against my palm.

It sat heavy in my hand, far heavier than the five-carat diamond ring Dante had slid onto my finger just hours ago.

He had called the ring a symbol of our enduring alliance.

I knew it for what it really was: hush money.

Dante Moretti was never just a husband.

He was a Capo in the Vitiello crime family, a man whose reputation was built on silence and violence.

He had killed men merely for looking at me the wrong way.

He had burned down a warehouse simply because the owner disrespected my father.

Everyone told me I was the lucky one.

They said I was the Queen on the chessboard, protected by the most lethal Knight in the city.

But Queens are just pieces to be moved.

And tonight, I found out I was about to be sacrificed.

I was in his home office, a room that smelled sharply of expensive scotch and gun oil.

I was supposed to be upstairs, changing into silk for dinner.

Instead, I was down here, looking for a property deed for the Waterfront Port Redevelopment, the project I had spent two years designing to launder the family's shipping profits.

I had found the drive taped to the back of the frame of our wedding photo when I moved it to check the wall safe.

The symbolism made my stomach turn.

With trembling fingers, I plugged it into his laptop.

A password prompt blinked on the screen, mocking me.

I tried our anniversary.

Access Denied.

I tried his induction date into the family.

Access Denied.

My hands started to shake violently.

Dante would be upstairs in five minutes.

If he found me snooping, the consequences would not be a domestic argument.

In our world, secrets were currency, and stealing them was theft.

I closed my eyes, forcing my mind back to the whispers I had ignored.

The late nights.

The smell of a perfume that wasn't mine-something floral and cheap, like lilacs.

Then, it hit me.

I remembered a drunken slip by one of his soldiers three months ago.

August fourteenth. The boss hates August fourteenth.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

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4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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