His Unwanted Wife, The Rival Don's Queen

The gunman pressed a Glock to my temple and gave my husband a choice. "One walks out. One stays. Choose, Mr. Underboss." I wasn't worried. I was Haven. I was his wife of ten years, his Consigliere, the woman who built his empire. Beside me sobbed Gemma, a fragile twenty-two-year-old he had known for six months. "Take Gemma! Leave Haven!" Connor screamed, his honor twisting into something unrecognizable. He walked out of the warehouse with another woman in his arms, leaving me to be butchered. I didn't wait for the bullet. I threw myself through a glass window into the freezing canal. I survived the fall, but the life inside me didn't. After five years of failed IVF, the miracle baby I hadn't even told Connor about was gone. While I lay in a cold hospital room, bleeding out the remains of our child, my husband was buying diamond earrings for the woman who had set me up to die. When the doctor tried to sedate me for the surgery, I grabbed his wrist. "No anesthesia," I commanded. "But the pain..." "I want to feel it," I said, staring at the ceiling. "I want to feel every scrap of him leaving my body." I burned that pain into my soul. Then, I went home, poured gasoline over our wedding bed, and lit a match. Two years later, I returned to the city. Connor thought I was dead. But when he saw me on the arm of his mortal enemy, wearing the crown of a rival Queen, he realized his mistake. He didn't just lose a wife. He started a war.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Haven POV

The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing to pierce the darkness.

Then came the smell-sharp antiseptic and stale coffee.

My body felt shattered, as if I had been run over by a truck. Every inch of my skin throbbed or stung from the glass and the fall.

I opened my eyes.

Connor was sitting in the chair next to the bed, his head buried in his hands.

He looked wrecked.

Good.

He lifted his head and saw me awake.

"Haven," he breathed, reaching for my hand.

I pulled my hand away.

It was a small movement, but he flinched as if I had slapped him.

"Thank God," he whispered, ignoring the rejection. "I went back. I swear to you, Haven. I went back with the whole crew ten minutes later. You were gone. We found blood on the glass. I thought..."

"You thought I was dead," I rasped. My throat felt like I had swallowed razor blades.

"I had to get her out, Haven," he said, his voice taking on that pleading tone I used to find endearing. "It was a blood debt. Her father died for me. If I let her die, I lose the respect of the Old Guard. You know the rules."

I stared at the ceiling.

The rules never stated that a husband leaves his wife to be raped and butchered to save a girl he has known for six months.

"I am thirsty," I said.

He scrambled to get a plastic cup of water with a bendy straw.

He held it to my lips.

I took a sip, watching him.

He was the Underboss of the city, a man who commanded fear, yet here he was, shaking.

A nurse bustled into the room.

"Mr. Jones," she said, her voice urgent. "It is Ms. Chan. She is hyperventilating again. She is asking for you."

Connor froze.

He looked at me, then at the door.

"She is in shock," he explained to me, standing up. "She has never seen a gun before."

"Go," I said.

My voice was flat.

He hesitated.

"I will be right back," he promised. "Just let me calm her down."

He left the room.

I waited ten seconds.

Then I ripped the IV from my arm.

Blood welled up, dripping onto the pristine white sheets, but I didn't feel it.

I slid my legs off the bed.

The room spun.

I gripped the IV pole for support and shuffled to the door.

The hallway was quiet, the night shift in full swing.

I heard sobbing coming from a room three doors down.

I walked toward it, my hospital gown gaping at the back, my bare feet cold on the linoleum.

The door was ajar.

I saw them.

Gemma was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly fine, not a scratch on her.

Connor was sitting on the edge of her mattress.

He was stroking her hair.

She leaned into him, burying her face in his neck.

He kissed her forehead.

It wasn't a comforting peck.

It was slow.

It was tender.

It was the way he used to kiss me after a long day.

One of the nurses at the station whispered to another, unaware I was standing there.

"That's the third night he has slept in her room. Poor wife doesn't even know."

I turned around.

I walked back to my room, found my ruined clothes in a plastic bag, and dressed with shaking hands.

I walked out of the Family-controlled hospital and hailed a cab.

"Take me to the St. Jude's Clinic," I told the driver.

I needed a doctor who wasn't on my husband's payroll.

Continue to next part

I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals. Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell. He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout. Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up. I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed? I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform. "He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned. I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.

Action LitRPG Mafia

9.6

DANGEROUS CRAVINGS: SINFULLY TANGLED WITH MY STEPBROTHER

9.6

Ezran Williamson never asked for a new family, especially not one that comes with a stepbrother he can't stand. At twenty-one, Ezran is sharp-tongued, rebellious, and determined to graduate and build a future in programming on his own terms. But when his mother remarries a powerful businessman, his carefully controlled life collides with Lucian Banks, his cold, dominant, and dangerously untouchable stepbrother. Successful, older, and infuriatingly composed, Lucian is everything Ezran hates. Slowly, hatred turns into tension, tension becomes chemistry, and chemistry ignites something neither of them is prepared to face. What begins as resistance slowly unravels into a forbidden obsession, one that defies family, morality, and control. As secrets surface and pressure mounts, Ezran and Lucian are forced to choose between duty and desire, legacy and love, because some feelings don't fade and some obsessions are worth every consequence.

Action LGBT+Mafia Modern

9.6

Desired By Two Mafias

9.6

Elena is trapped in a dangerous world where two powerful mafia leaders compete for her heart. Torn between a ruthless kingpin and his equally lethal rival, she must navigate a landscape of violence and betrayal. As their obsession intensifies, Elena becomes the prize in a deadly game of dominance. With bullets flying and loyalty tested, she struggles to survive while discovering that being desired by such men comes with a lethal price for everyone.

Action Mafia Romance

7.5

From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

7.5

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."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

He Faked Amnesia To Break Our Vows

8.1

I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door. Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal. "If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass. "And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked. "Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe." My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down. I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later. But he didn't run to me. He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead. "I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough." He left me in the street. By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery. He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold. He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally. I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it. *I remember everything. And so do you.* Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.5

Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

8.5

My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention. He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor. I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don. "The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly. An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion. He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement. For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple. "Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her." As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman. Then, the steel door detonated. Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.

Mafia Modern Romance

His Unwanted Wife, The Rival Don's Queen

Chapter 2

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