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Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 741    |    Released on: 22/10/2025

ella

Rosa moved int

oom. Into my room.

wall. It was more than degradation; it was a public execution of my identity. Every servant in the household saw it. They saw her

later, his voice muffled through the locked wood of my new prison-that he and Rosa needed

the back o

laughter echo from the main part of the house. I felt myself withering. The tiny life inside me felt less like a bless

to my door. She didn'

-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "It's a bit small

, my hatred so palpable it felt like

different tactic.

e hoarse. "I'll sign whatever you w

the smile of a predator that knows its prey is already

usty windowsill. "I don't just want the man. I want the throne. I want to be

al blow, stealing the air from my lungs. It wa

I whispered. "You're ju

saw there was pure and terrifying. "And you're just a polished orphan

door. "Vincent feels guilty about lock

my phone on

calculated move, I knew. A way for him to ease his

hands shaking. I ignored the missed calls and texts from friends. I scrolled throug

o R

ago, a private investigator had found me, bringing a letter and a photograph from a man who claimed to be my biological father. A man named Enzo Rossi-the undisputed Capo di

incent. I had my family, my life. I'd politely d

is phone was my only key. A direct line to th

led as it hover

o R

d the ca

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Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises
Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises
“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 12 Chapter 23 Chapter 34 Chapter 45 Chapter 56 Chapter 67 Chapter 78 Chapter 8