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 4

Haven POV

The file hit the mahogany desk with a heavy, final thud.

It had taken the PI three days to compile everything.

Three agonizing days wherein Connor had barely spoke to me, far too busy managing the fallout of the ambush and comforting the so-called poor victim.

With trembling hands, I opened the folder.

The evidence was damning. Photos of Gemma meeting with a Capo from the George crime family. Bank transfers routing offshore funds. Territory maps found buried deep in her cloud storage.

She wasn't just a mole.

She was the architect of the ambush that had almost killed me.

I didn't wait for Connor to come home.

I tracked Gemma's phone signal instantly.

She was at our private club, using the indoor pool.

The sheer audacity of it stole the breath from my lungs.

I took two of my personal guards-men who were loyal to the paycheck I signed, not the oath Connor swore.

We marched into the pool area.

The air was thick with oppressive humidity and the sharp sting of chlorine.

Gemma was floating on a pink raft, wearing a bikini that cost more than her father's car.

She looked up and saw me. But she didn't look scared.

She smirked.

"Hey, Haven," she called out, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Connor said you were resting. Is the baby okay? Or did you lose it like you lost his attention?"

Red vision clouded my sight.

"Grab her," I ordered.

My guards didn't hesitate.

They waded into the water, silent and efficient. They flipped the raft and dragged her screaming to the edge.

They hauled her onto the wet tiles.

I kicked a folded towel onto her face.

"Hold her down."

One guard pinned her arms, the other her legs.

I grabbed a bucket of pool water.

"You want to play games, Gemma?" I asked, my voice deadly calm. "Let's play."

I poured the water over the towel covering her face.

She thrashed.

She choked.

It was crude waterboarding, but effective.

I stopped the flow.

"Who do you work for?" I demanded.

She coughed, sputtering water from her lungs.

"Go to hell," she wheezed.

I poured again.

This time longer.

Her body convulsed violently against the tiles.

Suddenly, the doors to the pool deck burst open.

"Haven!"

Connor sprinted across the tiles.

He didn't look at me. He didn't ask why.

He tackled the guard holding her arms with the force of a linebacker.

"Get off her!" he roared.

Gemma ripped the towel off her face, gasping for air, and instantly transforming into the victim.

"She tried to kill me!" she screamed, crawling toward Connor like a wounded animal. "She is crazy!"

Connor wrapped his arms around her, shielding her body with his own.

He looked up at me with pure hatred burning in his eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" he shouted. "She is a civilian!"

"She is a rat, Connor!" I yelled back.

I grabbed the file from the table and threw the photos at him.

They scattered across the wet floor like confetti.

"Look at them! She set us up! She is working for the George family!"

He didn't even look down.

He kicked the photos into the pool.

"I don't care!" he screamed. "You crossed a line, Haven. You are becoming a monster."

A sudden pain sliced through my abdomen.

Sharp.

Hot.

I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

"Connor," I gasped, my voice breaking. "Something is wrong."

He stood up, lifting Gemma into his arms bridal style.

She buried her face in his chest, sobbing fake tears.

"Stay away from her," Connor warned me, his voice ice cold. "If you come near her again, I will forget you are my wife."

He turned and walked away.

The photos of her betrayal floated on the surface of the blue water, dissolving slowly into nothingness.

I fell to my knees.

A dark crimson flower of blood bloomed on the white tiles between my legs.

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 4

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