After losing my memory, I divorced Don
I woke up to find that I had lost five years of my memory.
I was told that I had been married to Caspian, the ruthless Godfather of the New York Mafia, for five years.
I had harbored a crush on him for a long time, so marrying him should have been good news.
But the terrible truth was, he didn't seem to love me.
After losing my five years of memory, he felt like nothing more than a stranger to me.
"Break the blood oath, Caspian," I said. "We're getting a divorce."
Yet later, he would pace outside my door late at night, refusing to leave: "Darling, just look at me one more time, please?"
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Chapter 9
I went to the small art gallery where I worked as a curator, seeking the comfort and routine of familiarity.
A brand-new, matte black armored SUV was parked menacingly in front of the glass doors.
Caspian leaned against the hood, radiating a lethal aura.
His mere presence terrified the morning commuters on the sidewalk, forcing them to cross the street just to avoid his line of sight.
He pushed himself off the car the moment he saw me.
"Did you block my number?" he demanded.
His tone was fiercely controlled, masking a dangerous vulnerability beneath.
I didn't break my stride, walking right past him toward the gallery entrance.
"Yes," I replied coldly. "I needed a break anyway. Why don't we just go see the mob lawyers now and get the divorce settlement sorted out?"
The air around him turned heavy and freezing.
He moved faster than I could react, stepping in front of the door and blocking my path with his broad chest.
"Unblock me," he ordered.
"Sorry." I admitted fault bluntly. "I shouldn't have blocked you."
His expression briefly softened, taking on a stiff, unfamiliar huskiness of a forced apology: "I'm sorry, darling, you know I love you. I never broke my oath."
I rolled my eyes: "Blocking you just makes signing the divorce papers inconvenient."
Caspian's face darkened: "Add my number back."
I swiped at my phone: "I can't. I forgot your number."
Caspian went terrifyingly stiff.
He stepped into my space, bending down until his face was mere inches from mine.
"Did you really forget?"
His gaze was sharp as a blade, as if trying to slice through me to find any trace of a lie.
I avoided staring into those dark depths, merely brushing past his shoulder: "That's right. I forgot."
"How could you forget? You loved me so much. Darling, do you have amnesia?"
My body froze: "We're done. Why would I bother remembering your phone number?"
But he moved with the swiftness of a predator.
Before I even registered it, he had snatched my phone away.
"Give that back!" I snapped.
He ignored me, tapping the screen to wake it up.
His thumb punched in his own birthday.
The screen buzzed aggressively, signaling an incorrect passcode.
"Did you change it?" he demanded through gritted teeth.
I remained stubbornly silent.
As he stared at the lock screen, a flash of genuine pain crossed his rugged, chiseled face.
He punched in another six-digit sequence.
The date of our Mafia blood oath.
Failed.
He stared at the device for a very, very long time.
Then, his long fingers entered a new set of numbers.
My birthday.
The phone clicked unlocked.
Caspian gave me a dark, terrified look that made my breath catch in my throat.
His thumb moved rapidly across the screen.
He instantly reset the passcode to our wedding anniversary.
"Give it back." I snatched the phone angrily from his hand.
I tapped the screen to open my messages, but it was locked again.
I quickly typed in my birthday.
Failed.
"What did you do?" I demanded furiously.
Caspian just stood there, watching me.
I stared at the screen, genuinely confused.
I tried his birthday again. Still nothing.
I looked up at him, anger boiling over.
"What numbers did you use?"
Caspian's gaze sharpened, cutting like a razor.
He saw the genuine confusion in my raw reaction.
I watched his sharp mind piece the scattered fragments together.
"Ever since you woke up from your suicide attempt, you've been like a different person," he stated with absolute certainty. "Sienna, it seems you have amnesia..."
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7.1
After five years in a federal prison, framed by my stepmother and fiancé, I was finally released.
Instead of a welcome home, my stepmother tossed me a one-way ticket to Geneva and a threat: renounce the family name and disappear, or end up in the Hudson River.
When our limo was suddenly ambushed by military-grade SUVs on the highway, their cowardice almost got us killed.
I took the wheel, crashed the attackers, and saved their lives.
But the moment the danger passed, my stepmother tried to slap me, called me a psycho, and abandoned me on the desolate roadside.
My ex-fiancé later cornered me in public, trying to assert his dominance by grabbing my arm.
They still thought I was the broken girl they sent to a cage just so they could steal my dead mother's biochemical research.
I didn't feel heartbreak, only a cold, absolute certainty.
They threw me to the wolves, not realizing the federal penitentiary had burned away my capacity for mercy.
I hacked into the dark web and found out Dante Meltoni, the most dangerous Mafia Don in New York, was tearing the city apart to find a legendary underground doctor.
I am that doctor.
I walked straight into his heavily guarded fortress, pulled out a syringe, and saved his dying grandfather.
Then I looked the terrifying Don right in the eye.
"Marry me. And let me use your empire to wipe my family off the map."
9.5
"My father sold me to a sixty-year-old monster to clear his gambling debts. So, I made a desperate gamble of my own."
Seventeen-year-old Isabella Rossi has two choices: become the broken plaything of a sadistic mafia Capo, or do the unthinkable. She chooses the latter. Sneaking into a high-end speakeasy, she slips an aphrodisiac into the whiskey of the deadliest man in New York—Damien Falcone, the ruthless Underboss of the Falcone family.
Her plan was simple: steal his seed, secure his protection, and run.
But you don’t drug a predator and expect to walk away.
When Damien wakes up, he doesn’t kill her. Instead, he claims her.
"You intercepted a delivery meant for my enemy. Turns out, it was you. Now, you are my Collateral."
8.0
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."
8.1
I died once. Betrayed, broken, and discarded by the most powerful man in New York.
Now, I'm back. Reborn on the very day my husband, Dante Moretti, handed me an expulsion agreement. But this time, I know his secret. The coldness in his eyes isn't cruelty; it's a slow-acting poison, a betrayal creeping through his veins, fed to him by those closest to him.
This time, I don't cower. I meet his icy command with a slap and an ultimatum: I carry his heir. To cast me out is to sentence his own bloodline to death.
He is the untouchable Don, a king on a poisoned throne, fighting a war within his own mind. I am the ghost of the queen he tried to break, armed with the memories of our enemies' every move.
I won't be a pawn in their game again. I will dismantle them all, from my treacherous sister to the viper he calls a mother. I will be the queen he needs, even if he fights me every step of the way.
It's a vendetta.
9.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."
8.6
She entered his world as prey. Now, she's learning to bite back.
After her mother's death, Annabelle Gracia seeks fragile solace in the flower shop-until her father trades her to Antonioni D'Angélo, the ruthless mafia billionaire known as The Shadow King. Nights with him burn with pain, pleasure, and control. His coldness shields a heart hunted by a dangerous fraternity, one that will not forgive tenderness-love is a risk he cannot afford. Yet desire refuses to be silenced. In their world, love is weakness, and weakness could destroy them both.
Antonioni is not just another mafia heir; he is a force who commands the world's shadows. Beyond the empire most will never see: high-stakes deals in European marketplaces, clandestine arms trades, and the quiet power of a man who moves money, influence, and danger across continents.
Once fragile, she rises. No longer a pawn, she becomes his fiercest ally and mafia queen, his quiet hope. But betrayal is never far, and enemies wait in the shadows. When Nora, the daughter of one of their deadliest rivals, enters their world, alliances shatter, and danger multiplies.
In a world ruled by secrets and scars, can love save them... or destroy them?