From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

I was the invisible daughter of the Hayes crime family, secretly painting portraits of Marcus, the Underboss. He was the man who had once protected me from the world, the man I loved from the shadows. But he chose power over affection. To secure an alliance, he engaged Isabella. Threatened by my existence, Isabella staged a fake miscarriage and framed me for destroying her heirloom wedding dress. Marcus didn't ask for my side of the story. Blinded by rage over his "lost heir," he ordered his guards to drag me to the Ice Cellar—a freezing underground torture chamber used for traitors. For days, I shivered in the absolute darkness, listening to the water drip, realizing the man I worshiped was actually my jailer. My father, protecting his own millions, let it happen. In that cold, the girl who loved Marcus died. When he finally released me, he expected me to be broken, obedient, and grateful for his mercy. Instead, I burned every painting I had ever made of him. I packed a single bag and vanished into the night, escaping to a rugged ranch in Montana where no one knew my name. Three years later, the truth about Isabella’s lies finally surfaced. Marcus tracked me down. The King of New York fell to his knees in the dirt and cow manure of my new home, weeping, begging, and offering me the entire world to come back. I looked down at the man who once owned my heart. "You can't un-shatter a glass, Marcus," I said coldly. "I'm not coming home."

Chapters

Chapter 3

Olivia POV

The summons came at midnight, sharp and unforgiving.

Two guards flanked me, marching me down the corridor toward the Great Hall. The silence of the house was oppressive, pressing against my eardrums like deep water.

Marcus sat in the high-backed leather chair at the head of the mahogany table. He looked less like a fiancé and more like a king passing a death judgment. Izzy was seated next to him, her face buried in a silk handkerchief, her shoulders shaking with theatrical sobs.

The air smelled of stale smoke and expensive scotch. My stomach twisted into a knot.

"Olivia," Marcus said. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

It wasn't a greeting. It was a sentence.

Izzy looked up. Her eyes were red, but suspiciously dry.

"Liv," she choked out. "Why? Why did you do it? I know you hate me, but... the baby?"

My blood froze in my veins. "Baby? What are you talking about?"

"The dress," she wailed, pointing to a heap of white satin on the table. It was shredded. Destroyed. "And the stress... the doctor said..."

She dissolved into tears again, her voice cracking perfectly on cue.

Marcus stood up. He walked toward me, his shadow stretching long and dark across the floor like a stain.

"That dress was for the wedding," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "But that is material. It can be replaced. My heir cannot."

"I didn't touch her dress," I said, my voice shaking. "I haven't left my room in a week. You have guards!"

"Guards can be bribed," Marcus snapped, cutting me off. "We found the scissors in your room, Olivia. Taped under your mattress."

"That's a lie!" I screamed. "She's lying!"

"Silence!"

The roar echoed off the vaulted ceiling, making the crystal chandelier tremble.

"You have always been obsessed," Marcus said, stepping into my personal space. I could smell the acrid burn of alcohol on his breath. "I tolerated your crush because you were a child. But this? Destroying my lineage because of your jealousy?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "No one knew."

"Exactly," Izzy hissed from the table, venom coating her words. "I wanted to surprise you, Marcus. And she... she ruined it."

I looked at Marcus. I looked for the man who once gave me candy. The man who had shielded me from crowds and nightmares.

I saw only a stranger. A man blinded by rage and a woman's performance.

"You have no right to defend yourself," he said coldly.

"She's just a girl, Marcus," old Capo Rossi muttered from the corner, shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe—"

Marcus shot him a look that silenced the room instantly. "She is a Hayes. She knows the cost of betrayal."

Time seemed to slow down. I looked at the window. Rain was lashing against the glass.

*He used to hold an umbrella over me,* I thought numbly. *Now he is the storm.*

"The wedding is postponed," Marcus announced to the room, his voice devoid of emotion. "Due to the tragic loss of my child."

He looked at me.

"And Olivia will be punished. She has dishonored this family. She has insulted me."

I didn't cry. I felt a strange snap inside my chest. Like a rubber band breaking under too much tension.

The girl who loved Marcus died in that moment. She withered up and blew away like dust in the wind.

"Take her phone," Marcus ordered.

A guard ripped it from my hand.

"Delete her accounts. Cut her off. She doesn't exist to the outside world until she learns her place."

I stood straight, my spine locking into place. My chin lifted.

"You're making a mistake," I said. My voice was steady. It surprised even me.

"The only mistake," Marcus said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine, "was thinking you were innocent."

He straightened and gave the order. "Take her to the Ice Cellar."

A gasp went through the room. The Ice Cellar wasn't just a jail. It was a torture chamber. A damp, freezing underground vault used for traitors who were never meant to see the sun again.

My father wasn't there. He was conveniently away on business. Or maybe he was hiding.

I didn't fight the guards.

As they dragged me away, I locked eyes with Izzy. She lowered the handkerchief. A small, triumphant smile played on her lips.

*I will kill you,* I thought. The thought was calm, rational, absolute.

They marched me through the bowels of the estate. The air grew colder with every step, seeping into my bones.

They shoved me into the dark room. It was stone, cold, and smelled of mold and old blood.

"This is the price of disrespect," Marcus said from the doorway. He didn't deign to step inside.

"Marcus," I said.

He paused.

"I hate you," I said. "More than I ever loved you."

He didn't flinch. He just signaled the guard.

The heavy iron door slammed shut with a finality that shook the ground. The darkness swallowed me whole.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently as the cold bit into my skin.

*I have to die,* I told myself in the dark. *The princess has to die so the survivor can be born.*

Continue to next part

BLURB "Beg for it, Bella," his rasped voice whispered against my ears as his dick rubbed against my thighs. "I want you to f**k me until my tongue knows nothing but your name. Please, Daddy," I begged shamelessly until he finally slipped into me. - The first time I saw him, I understood why people ruin their lives for dicks. He was standing in the sunlight, watching me like he already knew how the story would end. I had a boyfriend. He was my best friend's father. And ninety days should have been easy to survive. Then I opened the wrong door, and after everything burned. Alexander Moreau doesn't touch you first. He studies you, learns you, and makes you feel like the only person in the room. And somewhere between midnight swims and locked doors, I stopped pretending I didn't want him. I'd go through hell and come back friends with the devil if it would mean him sticking his dick inside me again. But houses made of glass don't protect secrets, and by the time summer ended, I had lost my best friend, my relationship, my future, and the version of myself I thought I was. Because falling for Alexander Moreau wasn't the danger. His ex-wife was.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.2

His Temptation

7.2

"Please don't hurt me, I will do anything you want me to, I will not tell anyone anything. I swear on my life, I don't want to die please" I pleaded, it was the least I could do in a situation like this. After all that I had seen, I knew I was nothing to him than just another body that he could drop dead. I closed my eyes hoping and praying that he would spare my life. "Anything?" I hear him say and I open my eyes immediately. Was he accepting my offer, was he going to spare my life. He was already standing in front of me, I had to tilt my head backwards a great deal to catch a glimpse of his face. "Yes anything" I nodded my head. Sky witnessed the death of her friend and family, while she stayed hidden in a closet. She thought she could escape the Culprit but she was caught and kidnapped by him. On her knees she begged to do anything for him if he released her. Rather be kidnapped her to be his maid, will she be able to escape him?

Action Mafia Modern

8.7

I Was Never His Real Wife

8.7

My little brother's heart monitor was screaming its final warning. I called my husband, Dante Volkov, the ruthless underworld king whose life I'd saved years ago. He had promised to send his elite medical team. "I'm handling an emergency," he snapped, then hung up. An hour later, my brother was dead. I found out what Dante's "emergency" was from his mistress's social media. He had sent his team of world-class surgeons to deliver her cat's kittens. My brother died for a litter of cats. When Dante finally called, he didn't even apologize. I could hear her voice in the background, asking him to come back to bed. He even forgot my brother was dead, offering to buy him a new toy to replace the one his mistress deliberately crushed. This was the man who had promised to protect me, to make my high school tormentors pay. Now, he was holding that very tormentor, Seraphina, in his arms. Then came the final blow: a call from the clerk's office revealed our seven-year marriage was a sham. The certificate was a forgery. I was never his wife. I was just a possession he was tired of. After he left me to die in a car crash for Seraphina, I made one call. I texted a rival mob heir I hadn't spoken to in years: "I need to disappear. I'm calling it in."

Mafia Modern Romance

9.2

Just A Placeholder: Dying For His Mistress

9.2

I stood on the tarmac clutching white magnolias, watching the man I loved hand his loyalty to the woman born to destroy me. Dante Cavallaro, the Ruthless Underboss, didn't just leave me for Sofia Moretti. He revealed that for two years, I wasn't his lover. I was a human shield. The heavy iron bangle he forced me to wear wasn't a gift for my protection. "It's a Malocchio anchor," he sneered as I lay paralyzed on the floor. "It drains the wearer's luck to keep Sofia healthy. You are just the filter." My body began to rot from the inside out, my nerves dying one by one. When I was finally on my deathbed, unable to move or speak, Dante didn't cry for me. He cried because his tool was broken. He forced the cursed bangle onto his own wrist, begging the universe to keep me alive so I could continue to suffer in Sofia's place. "Please," he sobbed into my sheets. "Don't leave me alone with the bad luck." I used my last breath to make a wish—not for him, but for my freedom. I closed my eyes and died. Exactly one hour later, Dante's phone rang. It was his father. "Sofia just collapsed," he said. "Her heart just stopped." I was the vessel. And now that I was gone, the poison had come home to the King.

Action Mafia Romance

9.4

My Husband Gave My Mother’s House to His Mistress

9.4

The fluorescent lights in the basement clinic buzz like dying insects. I steady my hands over Kira Kelly's face, the scalpel cold between my gloved fingers. She lies on the surgical table with her eyes closed, sedated but not unconscious—Ivan insisted she remain aware enough to "appreciate the artistry." My husband stands three feet away, his Italian leather shoes gleaming against the concrete floor. In his hands, he cradles the ceramic urn that holds my mother's ashes. He's positioned himself directly over the industrial trash compactor, its metal jaws open and waiting. "Steady now, Talia." Ivan's voice carries the same casual tone he uses when ordering coffee. "One slip, and your mother takes a dive." I don't look at him. Can't. The scalpel finds the precise entry point along Kira's nasal bridge. She wanted a smaller nose—claimed the bump made her look "ethnic" in photographs.

Mafia Modern Romance

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

From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

Chapter 3

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