Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Ivy Richardson POV

Clayton blinked rapidly, the initial shock on his face curdling into something uglier: defensiveness.

It was the default setting for men like him-weak men who crowned themselves kings simply because they were born into a lineage of thieves.

"This is sick," he spat, his hands curling into impotent fists at his sides.

"You let us mourn you. You let your father cry over an empty box. Do you have any idea what you put us through?"

A laugh, dark and sharp as broken glass, bubbled up in my throat.

"I put you through?"

I took a step forward, deliberately invading his personal space.

Instantly, the memory assaulted me: the cloying stench of gasoline mixed with the metallic tang of copper.

I remembered the sound of my phone ringing in the wreckage. I remembered answering it, begging for help, and hearing his voice on the other end.

Die quietly, Ivy. I have a wedding to get to.

That was what he had said before he hung up. He had chosen Ainsley's engagement party over my life.

"I didn't fake anything, Clayton." My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You told me to go to hell. I just took the scenic route back."

He flinched.

For a split second, guilt flickered in his eyes, but he quickly buried it under layers of practiced narcissism.

"It was a chaotic night," he stammered, his composure cracking. "I was under pressure. The merger with your father... Ainsley needed me."

He straightened, trying to regain ground. "You were always so dramatic, Ivy. You probably exaggerated the crash to get attention."

Gaslighting. It was his mother tongue.

Five years ago, that sentence would have brought me to my knees with apologies. It would have made me question my own sanity.

Now? It just bored me.

I looked at him-really looked at him-and realized I felt absolutely nothing.

No hate. No love. Just the clinical detachment of a scientist observing a particularly dull insect writhing under a microscope.

"You're wearing the same watch," I noted, my gaze drifting pointedly to his wrist. "The gold plating is peeling."

Clayton covered his wrist instinctively, like a child caught with a stolen toy.

"I'm calling your father," he threatened, reaching for his pocket with trembling fingers. "There's a sit-down tonight. A family gathering. You're coming with me. You owe us an explanation."

He reached out to grab my arm.

It was a mistake.

Before his fingers could even graze the fabric of my coat, I side-stepped with a fluidity that would have made my husband proud.

"Don't touch me."

My tone wasn't loud, but it carried the crushing weight of the Richardson name. It was a command, not a request.

Clayton froze. He saw something in my eyes that hadn't been there before.

Steel.

"I don't owe you a damn thing, Clayton."

I kicked the plastic lilies with the toe of my boot, sending them skittering across the grass.

"And those flowers suit you. Fake, cheap, and lifeless."

I turned my back on him and walked away, leaving him standing in the dirt with the ghost he thought he could control.

Continue to next part

For nearly a decade, I nurtured Ivy as my own daughter, believing my Alpha husband’s lie that she was a traumatized orphan. My devotion breaks when I find his personal tokens hidden in her room. As her true scent emerges, the sickening reality surfaces: she is the result of Darius’s affair with my late sister. They view me as a fragile wife, but they have overlooked my superior Alpha lineage. My vengeance against their deception will be total.

Mafia Romance Werewolf

7.5

Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Don

7.5

The man smiling in the silver frame on my vanity was the very same man who, in exactly three months, would wrap his hands around my throat. I knew this because I had already died. I had felt the freezing, silty water of the Hudson River fill my lungs while Alexander watched the life drain from my eyes, his mistress laughing in the background. I had hovered like a ghost above my own funeral, watching the betrayal continue even after my death. My mother, the perfect Mafia widow, stood stoically next to my killer, unaware she had sold her daughter to a butcher. My fiancé checked his watch, bored, waiting to liquidate my inheritance. But then I saw him. Darrian Golden. The Don of the rival clan. The enemy. He stood in the pouring rain, his expensive suit soaked through, staring at my coffin as if the world had ended. When the earth hit the wood, he didn't just cry; he roared in primal agony. My fiancé killed me, but my enemy was the only one who mourned me. "The Commission is waiting," my mother’s voice snapped the timeline back into place. She stood in my doorway, demanding I set the engagement date to secure the territory. She saw a charming Capo; I saw the rat who had cut my father's brake lines. In my first life, I was a trembling bird. In this life, I was the match that would burn the cage down. I smashed the photo frame against the marble table, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot. "Contact the Golden Clan," I commanded. My mother went pale. "He is a savage, Azalea. He butchers men for sport." "Tell Don Golden that Azalea Kidd is offering a parley," I said, looking out the window at the city that would soon be ours. "Tell him I am offering the only thing he has ever wanted: Me."

Billionaire Fantasy Mafia

7.3

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

7.3

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don't have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall-the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I'm not just leaving him; I'm taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood-the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.9

She Can't Be Tamed

7.9

After losing her family to a brutal betrayal, Elena is forced into a dangerous alliance with the ruthless mafia heir, Dante Moretti. Bound by a marriage of convenience, she must navigate a world of luxury and lethal secrets. While Dante intends to break her spirit, Elena harbors a hidden agenda for vengeance. As their power struggle intensifies, a forbidden desire ignites, threatening to destroy the very empire they both seek to control.

Billionaire Mafia Romance

8.3

Taming Him

8.3

"Sit" Mira wanted to dare him, to stand up and leave but that would disrupt her plan. "I'm sitting" "Don't move, I'm leaving" "You won't dare leave, I promise you" Mira whispered, confidence dripping down her words. If she can't leave, he can't as well. *** Mira had always wanted him, her cousin's private teacher. The stoic-faced man who wouldn't look at her no matter what she does. After going away for a few years, Mira came back with a sturdy built self-confidence. She still wants him, and she got him. Allen never expected he would lay himself bare for someone who is way younger than him, the one he never expected they would ever cross part again. The Mafia boss who had been living under hidden identity is forced to bare himself out this seductive and sultry one who was hellbent on setting his cold heart on fire.

Action Mafia Modern

9.3

The Doctor's Return

9.3

They call Dante Moretti the ruthless and heartless mafia boss. Seven years ago, he made a deal with Elara Vance. But he used her, broke her, and planned to send her to a medical facility after she produces an heir. Scared for her life, Elara ran away. Now, an entirely different person has returned to New York. She doesn't want his money, and she certainly doesn't want his heart, unless it's on her operating table. The girl he destroyed is dead. The woman who replaced her is the only one who can keep him alive. He's dying for a second chance, but he's just waiting for the first cut.

Action Mafia Modern

Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride

Chapter 2

You may also like