I was sold to the terrifying Mafia Don, Vincenzo Moretti, as a "Collateral Bride" to pay off my family's debts. I thought my total submission would at least guarantee the medical payments for my bedridden mother. But one night, I unlocked his encrypted tablet and discovered his secret life. While he claimed to be settling bloody mafia scores in Sicily, he was actually at Disneyland with his mistress, Giuliana, and their little blonde daughter. When I demanded a divorce, he didn't apologize. "Sign the behavioral agreement, or I will personally pull the plug on your mother's ventilator." The next day, he moved his secret family into our master suite. My belongings were violently thrown into the dirt, and I was banished to the sweltering servant's quarters. He ordered the staff to feed me nothing but watery broth and stale bread to cure my "female hysteria." I soon found out that even my own stepbrother had been conspiring with Giuliana for years, eagerly helping to build the cage I was locked in. I was stripped of my dignity, starved, and reduced to a pathetic joke in my own home. Why did I have to be tortured and erased while he played the perfect, loving family man on television? The grief and humiliation finally evaporated, freezing into a cold, sharp clarity. I stopped crying and forged an irrevocable transfer of Giuliana's luxury penthouse, slipping it right into Vincenzo's daily stack of paperwork. Watching the infallible Dark Don blindly sign away his mistress's greatest asset, I knew exactly what I had to do. It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground.
Isabella POV
The master suite of the Moretti Estate was a beautifully disguised prison. Despite the California king mattress and the expensive Egyptian cotton duvet, the room felt like a tomb. The soundproofed walls swallowed the silence, and the window grilles cast a grid-like shadow across the plush carpet, a constant reminder of my captivity.
The digital clock on the nightstand glowed a harsh red: 10:14 PM.
I stood near the edge of the bed, the silk of my nightgown feeling like ice against my skin. According to the archaic traditions of our world, producing an heir was my sole purpose. I took a trembling breath and stepped closer to Vincenzo.
Before my hand could even brush his shoulder, he raised a single finger. A minute gesture, but carrying the absolute weight of a Don's command.
"Don't," Vincenzo said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't even bother to look at me, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. "I need a clear head for the negotiations with the Chicago Outfit tomorrow. Distractions are a liability to the family."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "You said the same thing last month, Vincenzo. You claimed you had to go to Sicily to settle old scores."
His head turned slowly. His hazel eyes, usually so calculating, were like a Sicilian winter night-freezing and merciless. "You forget your place, Isabella," he sneered, the cruelty in his tone slicing through me. "You are a *Collateral Bride*. A pretty asset acquired to pay off the pathetic gambling debts of the Parisi family. Do not overstep your bounds and demand things you are not entitled to."
He turned his back to me, building an invisible, impenetrable wall between us. I stood there, stripped of my dignity, reduced to nothing more than an item on a ledger.
By 2:00 AM, the steady, rhythmic breathing of the monster beside me confirmed he was asleep. I lay awake, the humiliation burning in my chest. That was when I saw it-the faint, pulsing blue light of his encrypted tablet, carelessly left on the floor near his discarded suit jacket.
Touching the Don's personal property was a death sentence. If he woke up, he wouldn't just kill me; he would make one phone call and cut the life support keeping my mother, Hazle, alive in that sanitarium. But a destructive, desperate intuition pulled me out of bed.
I stepped silently onto the thick carpet and picked up the cold metal device. The passcode screen glared at me. I tried his birthday. Incorrect. The Moretti family founding date. Incorrect. My fingers shook as I typed four digits: `0815`. The day my mother had her stroke. The day I was sold to him.
The screen unlocked.
My breath hitched. I opened a hidden folder labeled *Sanctuary*.
What I saw shattered the last fragile illusion of my marriage. It was a digital shrine to another life. There were dozens of photos of Vincenzo with Giuliana Gallo, a socialite I knew only from the periphery of our world. In one photo, taken on the deck of the family yacht, *Stellamaris*, Vincenzo had his head thrown back in a genuine, relaxed laugh-an expression I had never seen. Giuliana was leaning against him, her hand possessively tangled in his dark hair. She was his *Comare*, his mistress.
But it was the next photo that stopped my heart.
Vincenzo was at Disneyland. He was wearing ridiculous Mickey Mouse ears, a chocolate stain ruining his pristine white shirt. In his arms, he held a little girl with bright blonde curls and his exact, piercing hazel eyes. His *Principessa*.
I checked the timestamp and geotag. *Yesterday. Anaheim, California.*
There were no Chicago Outfit negotiations. There was no bloody business in Sicily. While I was locked in this estate, terrified and isolated, he was playing the loving father and devoted partner to his secret family.
The grief and humiliation evaporated, instantly freezing into a cold, sharp clarity.
Moving with the precision of a ghost, I reached under my mattress and pulled out the old, burner phone I had managed to hide from his guards. I quickly snapped photos of the tablet's screen, making sure the timestamps and locations were clearly visible.
When I was done, I used the hem of my silk nightgown to meticulously wipe the glass clean of my fingerprints. I placed the tablet back on the floor, exactly where he had left it, down to the millimeter.
I crawled back into the massive bed, staring at the grid shadows on the ceiling. Vincenzo Moretti thought he had broken me. He thought I was just a submissive pawn. But as I listened to him breathe, the seed of a *Vendetta* took root in my soul. I just needed the sun to rise, and a cup of black coffee to fuel the war I was about to start.
The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Vendetta
Priorities
Mafia
Chapter 1 1
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Chapter 2 2
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Chapter 3 3
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Chapter 4 4
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Chapter 5 5
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Chapter 6 6
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Chapter 7 7
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Chapter 8 8
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Chapter 9 9
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Chapter 10 10
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Chapter 11 11
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Chapter 12 12
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Chapter 13 13
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Chapter 14 14
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Chapter 15 15
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Chapter 16 16
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Chapter 17 17
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Chapter 18 18
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Chapter 19 19
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Chapter 20 20
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Chapter 21 21
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Chapter 22 22
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Chapter 23 23
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Chapter 24 24
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Chapter 25 25
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Chapter 26 26
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Chapter 27 27
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Chapter 28 28
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Chapter 29 29
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Chapter 30 30
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