The Mafia Don's Runaway Collateral Wife

Chapter 3

Word Count: 740 | Released on: 09/04/2026

ella

he JFK Customs Hall buzzed

o wait," the uniformed customs offic

ng orders. This wasn't a glitch. It was a Don's Command. Damien's men had found us

year-old Alessandro stood with eerie stillness. He pushed his glasses up his nose and casually r

-" I started

the hall. Behind the glass counter, the officer's monitor flickered violently. The blue screen was instantly swallowed by a glowi

os and the digital ghost of his boss's crest. Instinct took ove

s as travelers began to scatter. I leaned down, my lips br

rt nod, his dark

of exhausted travelers and waiting families. "Kee

y children's veins was ancient,

ng at my coat. "Mama," she murmured, he

ne. He didn't run away from the danger; he was drawn to it. He darted toward a

Marco

inside the bin. Thick, acrid smoke and a burst of orange sparks shot in

ack against my side. "We are mice!" I hissed, my heart hammering against my ribs

bborn, sharp line that mirrored the man I was r

irectly into the center of the hall, righ

a San

a pile of designer luggage, performing a theatrical display of

Her beloved, worn teddy bear slipped from her grasp, l

aside with a vicious flick of her ankle. "Watch where you're going, you little gutter rat,

ed to a single,

st just inches from Chiara's shoulder. I twisted, locking her arm into a brut

s buckling as the agonizi

ady to draw blood. Beside him, Alex calmly tapped his watch. A second later, the digital lenses of

d, tear-filled eyes. My voice was a venomous, icy

ouch. My.

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

The Mafia Don's Runaway Collateral Wife

Qiang Weiwei Mafia

“Six years ago, I was given to New York's most ruthless mafia Don as collateral to pay off my father's gambling debt. After one terrifying, pitch-black night with him, his grandfather framed me for treason and threw me out onto the freezing streets. They threw me away, not knowing I was pregnant with his triplets. Now, I only came back to his city to get his signature on our divorce papers so my children and I could disappear to Europe. But his men ambushed us at the airport and dragged us to his underground interrogation room. Damien threw a DNA consent form on the steel desk, staring at my fierce five-year-old son with dark reverence. "Sign the paper. Or I will personally forge him into the sharpest weapon this family has ever seen." I was trembling with absolute terror. He believed the lies that I had sold his family's secrets and abandoned his firstborn heir for money. I didn't understand why this monster wouldn't just let me go, but I couldn't let him drag my innocent babies into his violent hell. Just as I tearfully picked up the pen to surrender, the room plunged into darkness, and a digital threat hijacked his monitors. My other five-year-old son had hacked the Don's network, starting a 60-second countdown to wipe out all his billions. Damien was forced to yield, but when the steel doors opened, his severely traumatized, silent six-year-old heir walked in-and immediately curled into my arms. Damien stared at us in shock, then slowly tore my divorce papers into pieces. "The deal is off."”