From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen
8 / 10.0
Share
Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile.
He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife.
But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir."
He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator.
He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb.
Julian, you will never see your child.
I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you.
From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.
From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen Chapter 1
Years ago, I threw myself in front of an assassin's bullet to protect my Mafia boss husband, leaving me nearly infertile.
He knelt in my blood, swearing I would be his only wife.
But tonight, I heard him whisper to his childhood sweetheart in Italian: "My wife is a useless vessel; only you can give the Rossi family an heir."
He thought I couldn't understand him, not knowing I used to work as an Italian translator.
He also had no idea that an eight-week-old miracle was currently growing in my womb.
Julian, you will never see your child.
I no longer want your promises. I no longer want you.
From now on, we will never cross paths again. Adieu, pour toujours.
Chapter 1
I watched my husband, Julian, pour champagne for his childhood sweetheart, hearing him murmur in Italian:
"My wife is a broken vessel, Alessia. You are the only one who can bring a healthy heir to the Rossi family, Alessia."
Alessia rested a slender hand on Julian's chest.
"Julian," Alessia whispered back in Italian, "we shouldn't talk like this. What about Sienna's feelings? She's standing right next to us."
Julian scoffed, his deep eyes sweeping over me as if I were merely a piece of furniture.
"She doesn't understand a word of Italian."
He thought I couldn't understand.
But he had no idea that I used to be an excellent Italian translator.
He also completely failed to realize that an eight-week-old little life was currently causing cramps in my lower abdomen.
Julian Rossi was not just my husband; he was the godfather of the Cosa Nostra, the most powerful Mafia syndicate on the American East Coast.
Before turning twenty-five, he had already painted the streets of Manhattan red with his enemies' blood.
He controlled politicians, judges, and a ruthless army.
His authority made even men of high status bow their heads as he passed by.
Years ago, I had used my eighteen-year-old body to block a bullet aimed at his heart by a rogue soldier.
That trauma severely damaged my uterus, leaving me practically barren.
Julian had knelt in my pool of blood at the hospital, vowing that I would be his only wife.
Now, I stood in the lavish ballroom of the Rossi estate, watching him look at Alessia with an incredibly tender gaze, a gaze that felt like a relic of a long-dead marriage.
Julian turned back to his loyal capos with Alessia, laughing and talking, building a mutual wall between me and them, isolating me in the center of my own home.
Another sharp cramp tore through my abdomen.
I gasped softly, my fingers finding the sleeve of Julian's custom-tailored suit jacket.
"Julian," I whispered, my voice trembling from the physical pain. "I need to go upstairs. I'm not feeling well."
Julian aggressively shook off my hand, his eyes full of cold impatience.
Stunned, I stared at his face, desperately searching for the man who had crowned me his Mafia Queen, the man who had cared for me in every possible way.
All I saw was an arrogant boss who treated me as his burden.
Alessia stepped forward with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Oh, Sienna, I'm so sorry," Alessia said, her eyes wide with a mocking undertone. "We were so caught up reminiscing about the past that we forgot you don't speak Italian. You must feel so left out."
I forced myself to stand up straight, fighting the nauseating pain in my stomach.
"You don't have to apologize, Alessia," I said with a cold smile. "You play the role of the Don's wife quite naturally. Practice makes perfect, right?"
Alessia's lower lip trembled, her eyes filling with carefully orchestrated tears.
She turned to Julian, the expression on her face instantly dissolving before returning to a calm demeanor, speaking in fluent Italian again. "She hates me, Julian. What did I do wrong? I just want to be friends with her."
Julian's face darkened, and the air around us seemed to thin; even the distant chatter of the party seemed to quiet down.
He stepped toward me, using his massive frame to back me against a marble pillar.
"You are petty and mentally unstable, Sienna," Julian snapped harshly. "Your pathetic jealousy is ruining the syndicate's celebration. I truly regret taking you as my wife."
The gilded scrollwork on the ceiling blurred before my eyes.
The pain coiling in my abdomen was nothing compared to the massive, silent emptiness welling up in my chest.
Regret?
He said he regretted it.
"Are you serious?" I asked softly.
Julian looked at me with absolute disgust. "Get out of my sight, or I'll have my soldiers drag you away."
I felt my heart turning colder by the inch.
Continue Reading
From Broken Vessel To Mafia Queen of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5
Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.7
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate.
The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.
I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary.
He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife.
He didn't know I'd heard everything.
He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape.
And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.
7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
9.3
On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband.
Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid.
She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills.
Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger.
When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans.
He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing.
"Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door.
Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle?
Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night.
But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.
8.9
I sold myself into a loveless marriage for $500,000 just to afford my little niece's life-saving surgery.
But my new husband, Kash, despised me, completely convinced I was a shameless gold-digger after his assets.
At 2:00 AM, he called to demand I fulfill my end of our twisted bargain: giving him an heir.
He forced me to sign a supplementary agreement surrendering all custody rights before I was even pregnant, treating me like a rented womb he bought at auction.
When my niece's condition suddenly worsened and I desperately begged him for a $50,000 advance, he hurled a black credit card directly at my face, leaving a stinging red welt.
"Take the money and get out," he sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He immediately set up real-time transaction alerts to track my every purchase, waiting to catch me on a selfish shopping spree.
He thought I was a parasite, completely unaware that every single penny went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Even my abusive former guardians cornered me at the fertility clinic, loudly mocking me for selling my body while my niece was dying.
I endured the degrading contracts, the cold IVF appointments, and Kash's relentless contempt, suffocating under the weight of his cruel assumptions.
Why did he have to strip away my dignity when he already owned my life on paper?
But as I clutched the hospital receipt that finally secured my niece's surgery, the fear inside me died.
With a new career starting tomorrow and a high-powered lawyer suddenly stepping in to audit my stolen inheritance, I was done playing the helpless victim.
I was going to show my arrogant husband exactly what happens when you push a desperate woman too far.
8.2
A week before my wedding, I went to the airport parking garage to surprise my fiancé with a luxury watch.
Instead, I caught him having sex in his car with my best friend and maid of honor.
Devastated and desperate to forget, I went to an exclusive club and blew my $50,000 trust fund to buy a one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
At work, my cheating best friend stole my hard-earned promotion, and my ex shamelessly defended her.
Worse, the escort I had paid for sex turned out to be the ruthless new CEO of my airline.
He tormented me on a flight to Paris. When I was robbed of my passport and wallet on the freezing streets, he forced me to be his gala date just to get my life back.
But the ultimate trap was waiting for me in New York.
A secretly taken photo of me leaving the CEO's penthouse leaked on the company forum.
"I knew she got that Paris trip for a reason."
My ex and my former best friend led the charge in the comments, framing me as a shameless gold digger who slept her way to the top.
I was stripped of my flying credentials, suspended from the job I loved, and publicly humiliated.
I didn't understand why the CEO was playing these cruel games, or who had orchestrated this perfect trap to ruin my life.
Standing outside the airport with my career in ashes, I realized crying wouldn't save me.
I wiped my tears, accepted my mother's invitation to a high-society mixer, and prepared to make everyone who set me up pay the price.
![[Dubbed Version]The Silent Gambit](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/72e347d85145403706116435660/TxAwpLj24GoA.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
