The Unwanted Wife He Broke In Rain

The Unwanted Wife He Broke In Rain

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
108
View
15
Chapters

My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, forced me to kneel in the freezing mud to apologize to his mistress. He believed her fake tears over my dignity. While the icy rain soaked through my dress, a sharp, jagged cramp seized my body. I screamed for him, begging for help as I felt the life slipping out of me. But Dante didn't move. He just lit a cigarette, his eyes cold as steel. "Get up when you are ready to learn respect," he said. He walked inside with her, locking the door and leaving me to bleed out in the storm. I lost the baby that night. The doctors told me the damage was permanent-I was barren. I thought that was the bottom, but I was wrong. When I returned to the estate, a ghost in my own home, he threw me into a flooded cellar full of rats because Elena accused me of poisoning her son. He tortured me for days to protect a child that wasn't even his. That was the moment the love died. So, while he was away on business, I didn't just pack a bag. I executed a plan three years in the making. I vanished. But before I disappeared, I left him a gift on his desk. A USB drive containing the security footage of Elena's lies, the medical report of the miscarriage he caused, and a paternity test proving he had destroyed his true family for a stranger's bastard. By the time he fell to his knees screaming my name, I was already gone.

Chapter 1

My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, forced me to kneel in the freezing mud to apologize to his mistress.

He believed her fake tears over my dignity.

While the icy rain soaked through my dress, a sharp, jagged cramp seized my body. I screamed for him, begging for help as I felt the life slipping out of me.

But Dante didn't move. He just lit a cigarette, his eyes cold as steel.

"Get up when you are ready to learn respect," he said.

He walked inside with her, locking the door and leaving me to bleed out in the storm.

I lost the baby that night. The doctors told me the damage was permanent-I was barren.

I thought that was the bottom, but I was wrong. When I returned to the estate, a ghost in my own home, he threw me into a flooded cellar full of rats because Elena accused me of poisoning her son.

He tortured me for days to protect a child that wasn't even his.

That was the moment the love died.

So, while he was away on business, I didn't just pack a bag. I executed a plan three years in the making.

I vanished.

But before I disappeared, I left him a gift on his desk. A USB drive containing the security footage of Elena's lies, the medical report of the miscarriage he caused, and a paternity test proving he had destroyed his true family for a stranger's bastard.

By the time he fell to his knees screaming my name, I was already gone.

Chapter 1

My knees slammed into the freezing mud, the impact sending a jolt through my body that threatened the fragile, secret life growing inside me. All because the man I loved-the ruthless Don of Chicago-decided his mistress's tears were worth more than my dignity.

The rain in Chicago was never just water. It was industrial runoff, cold as iron and heavy as judgment. It soaked through my thin silk dress in seconds, plastering the fabric to my shivering skin like a second, suffocating layer.

I kept my hands hovered protectively over my flat stomach, a futile attempt to shield the two-month-old secret nestled there from the biting wind.

Dante Moretti stood on the covered veranda of the estate. He was dry. He was warm. He was the Reaper, the Capo dei Capi, a man who had slaughtered the entire Russian Bratva leadership in a single night to consolidate his power.

He was also my husband.

Ten years ago, my parents took bullets meant for him. They bled out on the asphalt so the young prince could live to become the King. He had taken me in, the grieving orphan, and promised to burn the world to keep me safe. Three years ago, he defied the Commission to marry me.

Now, he looked at me like I was a stain on his floor.

"Kneel, Sera," he had said. His voice was low, that terrifying baritone that usually made my toes curl in pleasure. Now, it just made my blood run cold. "You need to learn respect."

Elena Russo stood behind him, partially hidden by the grand oak door. She held a handkerchief to her dry eyes, looking fragile, looking like the saint she claimed to be. She told him I had pushed her son, Leo. She told him I was jealous of the woman who supposedly saved his life in a car wreck that I knew never happened.

But Dante was blind. He saw a debt. I saw a snake.

I shivered violently. My teeth chattered so hard my jaw ached. The guards by the gate, men I had known since I was a child, looked away. They couldn't watch. The shame burned hotter than the cold.

"Please, Dante," I whispered, though the wind tore the words from my lips before they could reach him.

He didn't move. He lit a cigarette, the orange ember glowing in the gloom. He was teaching me a lesson. That was the Mafia way. Discipline the unruly wife. Break the spirit to ensure loyalty.

Then, it happened.

A sharp, jagged cramp seized my lower abdomen. It was sudden, terrifying, and absolute.

I gasped, doubling over until my forehead touched the mud.

"Dante!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "Something is wrong!"

He flicked the ash, his expression unmoved.

"Get up when you are ready to apologize to Elena," he said.

He turned his back. He walked inside. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing out the storm-and sealing out his wife.

I stayed there for hours. The cramping got worse, tearing me apart from the inside. I felt something warm and wet slide down my inner thighs, mixing with the rain. It wasn't water.

I knew then. I knew as the darkness crept into the edges of my vision. The vow we made before God was dead. The man who promised to protect me had just become my executioner.

I crawled. I didn't crawl to the door. I crawled to the guard booth where the landline sat. The guard, Mario, looked at me with horror. He saw the blood on my legs. He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away.

I picked up the phone. My fingers were blue. I dialed a number I hadn't used in years.

Lorenzo Moretti. The Old Don. Dante's father. The man who hated me because I brought no political alliance to the table.

He answered on the second ring.

"I accept," I rasped, my voice sounding like broken glass.

"You accept what, child?" Lorenzo asked.

"The exit," I said, looking back at the mansion that was now a tomb. "Get the papers ready. I want out."

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

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.

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Mafia

4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

He Chose The Mistress, Losing His True Queen

He Chose The Mistress, Losing His True Queen

Mafia

5.0

I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York. To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen. But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table. It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test. "Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture." I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking. He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago. He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy. He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go. He was wrong. I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don. And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy. I wanted to erase him. I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built. Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa." It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul. On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial. When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth. He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife. Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.

You'll also like

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

Ray Nhedicta
4.6

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book