Chained By The Mafia Lord Mafia Series

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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Caterina.

I hated... no... that wasn't a suitable word. I loathed parties.

Especially when it was my engagement party.

The chandeliers above gleamed with the brilliance of a thousand crystals, casting an ethereal glow over the grand ballroom. Laughter and chatter echoed around me, voices mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet in the corner.

The air was thick with the scents of fresh roses and expensive perfume.

The place was perfect, every detail meticulously arranged for an evening of celebration.

I should have felt honoured, proud even, to have a gathering this perfect in my name. Instead, my stomach kept turning with every passing second.

"Smile, sweetheart."

The voice came from beside me, smooth yet commanding, as if daring me to disobey. Allesandro's hand rested on the small of my back, possessive and firm. His touch turned, not with passion, but with a reminder of ownership.

I plastered on a polite smile, the one I'd practised in the mirror. A hollow expression that I hoped masked the growing revulsion twisting in my gut.

"Of course."

Alessandro was everything one might expect in a wealthy heir... tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair combed back in a style meant to project power. His smile gleamed, too perfect, too sharp, and his pale blue eyes scanned the room as though surveying his kingdom.

His kingdom.

I was to be part of it.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" He murmured, leaning down just enough for his lips to graze the edge of my ear.

My skin crawled.

"Yes, darling," I lied through gritted teeth.

This wasn't about me.

It had never been about me.

This party, this engagement... this charade... was about my family. Saving them from ruin after years of poor business decisions and mounting debts.

Marrying Alessandro was the deal my father had struck.

His money for my future.

My fate had been signed away without my consent, but what choice did I have?

Alessandro shifted closer, his hand tightening against my spine. I held my breath as his lips curled into a smug smile.

"You've made the right choice, Caterina. Soon, you'll see that."

My mouth twitched, but I couldn't muster a response.

Instead, I turned to the sea of guests. Familiar faces smiled back at me, congratulating us on our match, on our supposed "perfect pairing."

Every handshake, every kind word felt like a betrayal.

I gave them all the same practised smile, swallowing the truth.

The music continued, the violin's melody soaring above the hum of conversation. I sipped champagne, savouring the bitterness rather than the bubbles, and tried to ignore Alessandro's hand, which had yet to leave my back.

It happened so suddenly.

The air shifted, subtle but undeniable, as though the room collectively held its breath. A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, heads turning toward the entrance.

What was happening?

He waled in as though he owned the place, and for all I knew, he might have.

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