Goodbye, Mafia Ex-Boyfriend

I stood by Franco for seven years. I stayed with him from his days as a Brooklyn street enforcer until he became the Underboss of the Moretti family. We promised to marry the day he fully took over the territory. Until last month. I saw Franco tangled up with someone else on the leather sofa of his safe house. He said she was cold like ice and that the other woman knew exactly how to please a man. He pinned her down. I chose to walk away. I heard the rumors later. After I left. Franco lost his mind.

Chapters

Chapter 2

I woke up very early the next morning.

I walked downstairs and saw Franco walking through the door.

"Siena, why are you up so early. You should sleep more."

I looked at him.

My face showed absolutely nothing.

My pathetic heart was still waiting for him to explain.

His tailored shirt was wrinkled.

He smelled like stale smoke and cheap cherry perfume.

I would have lost my mind in the past.

I did not do that today.

"I am sorry Siena. The shootout in the South Side took all night. I did not want to wake you up so I stayed at the club."

He was completely used to apologizing.

He would rather apologize than explain.

He assumed I did not read the underground intelligence.

I decided to play dead.

I was going to leave anyway.

I could never wake a person who was pretending to be asleep.

"It is fine."

"Look Siena. I brought you the pastrami sandwich from that deli you love. I had my guys wait in line for it. The syndicate is quiet today. I will stay home and keep you company."

I felt a wave of impatience.

"I have no appetite."

"Are you throwing a tantrum again."

He had no intention of explaining himself.

He chose to blame me instead.

"Siena, where is your cross."

He grabbed my wrist.

"What cross."

I sounded entirely indifferent.

"The one you always wear on your neck. You said you would never..."

"Oh, that. I saw a new design at the boutique recently. I am planning to replace it."

Franco panicked when he noticed the necklace was gone.

What was he panicking about.

Was he afraid I would leave.

Or was he feeling guilty.

That cross was a gift from seven years ago.

He bought it with the money he won in an underground boxing ring for my birthday.

It was cheap.

But it was the most precious thing in the world to us back then.

He told me he would replace it with a massive diamond the day he became Underboss.

I believed him.

I wore it every single day for seven years.

My mind drifted back to that night of bullets and rain.

Franco was covered in blood.

He was holding a cheap silver cross.

"Siena, promise me you will wait seven years. I know you do not despise me but I despise myself. I have nothing right now. I struggle just to keep you safe. Trust me. I will climb to the top of the Moretti family in seven years. I will marry you with honor and give you the grandest wedding."

"Okay."

The Siena from seven years ago accepted it with a heart full of joy.

She accepted his cross.

That loop lasted seven whole years.

I lived inside the illusion Franco spun for me.

I waited for the day he took power so I could be his rightful wife.

It did not matter how much I loved him anymore.

I was no longer the Siena from seven years ago.

Franco's phone buzzed.

The caller ID read Port Authority Contact.

Panic flashed through his eyes.

He quickly declined the call.

"What is wrong."

I pretended not to care.

"Nothing. The smuggling route contacts keep demanding a higher cut."

"That is business. Why did you hang up."

The phone rang again.

"Just answer it. Syndicate business is more important. I will look around on my own."

"No. I said I would spend the day with you. I am staying right here."

The caller tried several more times.

He cut off every single one.

A text message chimed.

I did not lift my eyes.

I knew it was not a port authority contact.

It was definitely the dancer he kept in the Lower East Side.

"Siena, I need to return a call."

"Okay."

He took his phone and walked to the corner.

I could not resist looking back at him.

I rarely saw Franco smiling with such genuine delight.

Continue to next part

My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne. I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard. But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power. I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home? "Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me. I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk. "I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."

Action Mafia Modern

8.6

Betrayed Bride, Mafia Princess Rises

8.6

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.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.6

His Discarded Wife Was The Real Boss

7.6

I spent fifteen years building my husband's mafia empire, coding the complex algorithms that washed his blood money clean. But on my thirty-fifth birthday, instead of a gift, I received a photo of his hand resting on another woman's thigh. When I confronted him, Dustin didn't apologize. He brought his pregnant mistress, Jami, into our penthouse and told me to accept the hush money. "You have nothing except what I give you," he sneered, treating me like a slow servant rather than the mastermind behind his success. The argument turned violent. He shoved me hard, sending me crashing into a solid oak nightstand. As I lay on the floor, bleeding and dizzy from a split forehead, I watched the man I loved step over my body to comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen heirloom ring. He didn't check my pulse. He didn't call for help. He looked at me with pure disgust and turned his back. In that moment, the wife died, and the witness was born. He thought I was powerless because I had no assets in my name. He thought I would fade away quietly. He forgot one crucial detail: I wasn't just the furniture in his castle. I was the architect. Every server, every encrypted drive, every hidden account—I owned the code. I wiped the blood from my face and walked out the door, but I didn't go to a lawyer. I went to a hardware store and bought a ten-pound sledgehammer. I wasn't going to just leave him. I was going to delete him.

Mafia Modern Romance

9.4

Sinful Intentions( The Mafia lord second wife)

9.4

Kidnapped, beaten and locked up, Aurora Puro Pucasso, The daughter of General Puro Pucasso, has her life turned upside down. One moment she's on her bed, the next, she's forcefully taken by Vincenzo West, and made to act like his wife Brielle, and the mother to his psychotic child in exchange for her to live. What happens when every of Brielle's past comes to haunt her? Can she survive her new daughter's torment? What happen when the line between Reality and fiction start to blur between Aurora and Vincenzo.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.4

Taming The Mafia Man.

8.4

Elena’s life takes a dangerous turn when she is thrust into the dark world of the criminal underworld. Forced into a high-stakes deal with a ruthless mafia heir, she must navigate a landscape of violence and betrayal. As she attempts to exert control over a man who knows no limits, their volatile connection sparks an intense, perilous romance. Amidst deadly power struggles, Elena fights to survive while taming the beast she was forced to love.

Action Mafia Romance

9.2

The Belladonna Game

9.2

A lie was supposed to be her weapon. But lies can cut both ways. Aliyah Santiago enters the Marino world with one mission uncover the truth behind her fiancé's death and make his killers bleed. Disguised as a Mafia princess, she plays the part flawlessly: poised, untouchable, dangerous. Every step she takes draws her closer to Brown Marino, the family's heir...and deeper into a labyrinth of obsession, betrayal, and power. But one man threatens to unravel it all. Ottavio, the Marinos' ruthless enforcer, watches her too closely. His suspicions slice through her disguise, his loyalty to Brown makes him untouchable, and yet when his hands brush hers, when his voice drops to a murmur against her ear Aliyah feels a fire she cannot control. "You think you can lie to me, princess?" "I've lied to everyone." "Not to me." Every stolen glance, every secret touch, every dangerous word exchanged pushes her closer to the edge. To fall for him would be reckless. To trust him could be fatal. But in a world where silence can kill and love is just another weapon, Aliyah must decide: is Ottavio the enemy who will expose her or the only man who can save her from herself? Deception. Desire. Danger. The game has begun, and in this game of Mafia thrones, hearts burn as fiercely as empires fall.

Action Mafia Romance

Goodbye, Mafia Ex-Boyfriend

Chapter 2

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