Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises

Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises

Max. A

5.0
Comment(s)
48.8K
View
8
Chapters

At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.

Protagonist

: Isabella Falcone and Vincent Falcone

Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises Chapter 1

At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south.

But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband.

In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire.

His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach.

"We're terminating this complication," she said coldly.

As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.

Chapter 1

Isabella POV:

The nurse called my name for my ten-week ultrasound, and the man who rose to his feet beside his pregnant mistress was my husband.

My world didn't just stop. It fractured, the sound of the break echoing in the sterile silence of the waiting room.

Vincent Falcone. My husband. Don of the Falcone Famiglia, the undisputed king of the southern territories. A man whose name was a prayer on the lips of his allies and a curse on the tongues of his enemies. And there he was, his hand resting possessively on the curve of another woman's stomach.

Rosa. Barely a woman, just a girl from the neighborhood-the daughter of one of his own soldiers. Her eyes-wide, deceptively innocent-met mine across the room. There was no shame in them. Only a blaze of raw triumph.

Vincent's face went rigid, the mask of the Don-the one he wore for the world-slamming into place. Cold. Unreadable. But behind it, I saw the flicker of sheer panic. He wasn't just caught; he was caught here. In a hospital on his own territory, a place under his protection, where I had an appointment. His presence with her wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration. A profound, unforgivable act of disrespect.

I walked toward them, my heels clicking a funereal rhythm on the polished linoleum. My hands were steady. My chin was high. I was Isabella Falcone. I would not crumble here. Not in front of them.

"Vincent," I said, my voice a blade of pure ice.

He flinched. "Isabella. What are you doing here?"

The question was so absurd a hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up my throat. "I have an appointment," I replied, my gaze unwavering. "For our child." I let the words hang in the air, a testament to the legitimate bloodline he was so publicly desecrating.

Rosa shifted, pressing a hand to her lower back in a theatrical display of discomfort. A performance. Always a performance. "Vin," she whimpered, "I'm not feeling well."

His attention snapped to her instantly, his expression melting into a tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. That was the cut that went deepest. It wasn't the infidelity. It was the replacement.

"We'll go," he murmured to her, turning to me as an afterthought. "We'll talk at home."

"No," I said.

His eyes narrowed. A warning. The Don of the Falcone Famiglia was not a man who was told no.

But in that moment, I wasn't his wife. I was a queen watching her kingdom burn. This man, who had built his empire on blood and fear, had been my salvation. Ten years ago, he'd pulled me from the suffocating ambition of my adoptive family, the Carusos. He was the only man I had ever loved. And so I did something I had never done in ten years of marriage.

I slapped him. Hard.

The crack of my palm against his skin was like a gunshot in the silent room. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Vincent's head snapped to the side, a livid red mark already blooming on his chiseled jaw. He didn't look angry. He looked stunned. As if he couldn't comprehend the very possibility of my defiance.

Rosa gasped, planting herself between us as if to shield him. "Don't you dare touch him! He's only here because he's a man of honor!"

"Honorable?" The word was acid on my tongue.

"Yes!" she cried, her voice rising with righteous fury. "He gave me his word! He promised to claim our child-that our son would be the next Falcone heir!"

It was a declaration of war. In our world, a bastard heir wasn't just a scandal; it was a cancer. A fissure in the foundation that could bring the entire Famiglia crumbling down.

I turned to Vincent, my entire being screaming for him to deny it. To put this girl back in her place and reaffirm my status. My son's birthright.

But he just stood there, his jaw tight. "Isabella, it's complicated."

"Complicated?" I whispered.

"Her family has leverage," he ground out, his voice so low it was a rumble meant only for me. "Her father is crucial to the port operations. I can't risk losing his loyalty."

And there it was. Not a confession of passion, but of politics. My husband, the fearsome Don Falcone, was being blackmailed by a subordinate. In our world, that weakness was a far greater sin than his infidelity.

Rosa, sensing her victory, twisted the knife. She looped her arm through Vincent's, her smile a saccharine mask for the malice in her eyes. "Vincent was just about to take me for lunch," she purred, looking directly at me. "I've been craving sushi."

Sushi. Raw fish. Strictly forbidden for pregnant women. It wasn't a mistake. It was a message, small and exquisitely cruel. A reminder of who was in control. A reminder that my needs-and the needs of our legitimate child-were no longer a consideration.

Continue Reading

Other books by Max. A

More
Secret Wife is A Hero

Secret Wife is A Hero

Romance

5.0

I was Asset 7, a "ghost" kept in a high-security facility with no memory and paralyzed vocal cords. My only value was my silence, making me the perfect disposable tool for the world's elite. Everything changed when I was sold to Culver Lancaster, a media billionaire drugged with a dangerous synthetic aphrodisiac. His staff needed a woman who couldn't talk, couldn't sue, and didn't exist in any official directory. They scrubbed my skin raw like a piece of meat and threw me into a dark penthouse with a man who had lost his mind to the drug. Culver didn't treat me like a human; he choked me against a door and used my body as a shield against his own madness. When I tried to run, his security hunted me down with dogs, and Culver threw me into a freezing wine cellar. I spent days in total darkness, starving and dehydrated, lapping dirty water off the floor just to stay alive. I lay on that cold stone, wondering why my life had become a series of cages and scars. I couldn't even scream to let the world know I was dying. How could a man claim to protect me while treating me like a disposable object? But when Culver finally came to the cellar to feed me, I didn't surrender. I bit him hard enough to draw blood, watching the shock in his eyes as I communicated the only way I could. Now, I wear the silk uniform and the velvet mask he bought for me, playing the role of his obedient "Shadow." Culver thinks he owns a broken girl he can lock in a velvet panic room, but I'm a weapon who just found her target. Every kiss is a reconnaissance mission, and I'm going to burn his empire to the ground.

You'll also like

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

Chang An

I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it." Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway. "Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala." He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity. When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name. I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me. How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city? They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation. While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home. He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises Max. A Mafia
“At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.”
1

Chapter 1

22/10/2025

2

Chapter 2

22/10/2025

3

Chapter 3

22/10/2025

4

Chapter 4

22/10/2025

5

Chapter 5

22/10/2025

6

Chapter 6

22/10/2025

7

Chapter 7

22/10/2025

8

Chapter 8

22/10/2025