His Vow, Her Vendetta
I died once. Betrayed, broken, and discarded by the most powerful man in New York.
Now, I'm back. Reborn on the very day my husband, Dante Moretti, handed me an expulsion agreement. But this time, I know his secret. The coldness in his eyes isn't cruelty; it's a slow-acting poison, a betrayal creeping through his veins, fed to him by those closest to him.
This time, I don't cower. I meet his icy command with a slap and an ultimatum: I carry his heir. To cast me out is to sentence his own bloodline to death.
He is the untouchable Don, a king on a poisoned throne, fighting a war within his own mind. I am the ghost of the queen he tried to break, armed with the memories of our enemies' every move.
I won't be a pawn in their game again. I will dismantle them all, from my treacherous sister to the viper he calls a mother. I will be the queen he needs, even if he fights me every step of the way.
It's a vendetta.
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Chapter 1
Alessia POV
The cold March wind howled against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti penthouse, but it was nothing compared to the ice running through my veins. I stared at my reflection in the antique silver-rimmed mirror. Just minutes ago, I had died a gruesome death. Now, I was breathing. I was back. Back to the exact morning my death warrant was signed.
"The Don wants you gone before breakfast."
Angelina’s shrill voice shattered the silence. The maid slammed a thick manila folder onto my white marble vanity. An expulsion agreement.
My loyal maid, Lucia, gasped, her face draining of color. Beside her, Silvana, my personal guard and a sworn Soldier of the family, instantly stepped in front of me, her hand hovering over the concealed holster beneath her blazer.
"Watch your tone, Angelina," Silvana warned, her voice a low, lethal growl.
Angelina sneered, emboldened by the secret backing of Dante’s adoptive mother and my treacherous half-sister, Bianca. "I take my orders from the Don. He doesn't want to see a woman of your dirty blood anymore. Sign it and get out."
I didn't scream. I didn't cry like the pathetic, heartbroken girl I was in my past life. I slowly stood up, my gaze locking onto Angelina’s. The sheer, murderous weight in my eyes made her falter. She took a step back, her arrogant facade cracking.
"Where is my husband?" I asked, my voice eerily calm.
"He... he is in his private office," she stammered, unable to withstand the pressure of a true Mafia Queen.
I picked up the papers—the very documents that had sealed my doom once before. I walked past her, heading for the door. Angelina, foolishly trying to regain her footing, stepped into my path in the dim, heavy-carpeted corridor.
"You can't just barge in there—"
I didn't even break my stride. "Silvana, teach her respect. Twenty times. Make sure she can't speak ill of her Queen again."
"With pleasure, *Signora*," Silvana replied.
Before Angelina could scream, Silvana grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the gray marble wall. The maid dropped to her knees. Silvana’s leather-gloved hand struck Angelina’s cheek with a sickening crack. One. Two. Three.
As the brutal slaps echoed through the corridor, Silvana leaned in, her voice a deadly whisper meant only for the bleeding maid. "You dare disrespect the mother of the next Moretti heir? You're lucky she's merciful."
I left them behind, the scent of blood lingering in the air, and marched straight to the heavy oak doors of Dante’s office. The sanctuary of the Don.
I didn't knock. I kicked the doors open.
The heavy scent of cigar smoke, expensive whiskey, and leather hit me instantly. But it was the sight before me that made my blood boil. Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of New York, sat behind his massive mahogany desk. Standing right behind him, her hands intimately massaging his broad shoulders, was Bianca. My half-sister. The bastard child who had always coveted what was mine.
"Am I interrupting something, sister?" I asked, my voice dripping with venom. "Or are you auditioning for my position?"
Bianca quickly pulled her hands away, stepping forward with a perfectly crafted look of innocence. "Alessia, I'm so sorry, we were just—"
I didn't let her finish. I closed the distance and swung my hand, delivering a resounding slap across her face. The force of it sent Bianca crashing to the floor, a red handprint instantly blooming on her pale cheek. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock and pure hatred.
"Get out," Dante’s voice boomed, cold and absolute. He didn't look at Bianca. His dark, lethal eyes were fixed entirely on me. "Sign the papers, Alessia, and leave."
He was discarding me. Again.
I walked around the desk, stepping directly into his personal space—a death wish for anyone else in the *Cosa Nostra*. I slammed the expulsion agreement onto his desk, leaning in until I could see the golden flecks in his pitch-black eyes.
"Are you sure, Dante?" I demanded, refusing to back down. "Is this what you want?"
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Yes."
I raised my hand and slapped the Don of the Moretti family across the face.
The sound cracked like a gunshot in the quiet room. Bianca let out a terrified shriek from the floor. Dante’s head snapped to the side, his chest heaving as a terrifying, violent storm brewed in his eyes. No one touched the Don. No one defied him.
"I will ask you one more time," I whispered, my voice trembling with a dangerous mix of adrenaline and rage. "Is this what you want?"
He slowly turned his head back to me, his gaze promising absolute destruction. "Yes."
I backhanded him, harder this time, the sharp edge of my diamond wedding ring cutting a thin line across his sculpted cheekbone.
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9.0
My boyfriend and stepsister murdered me for my inheritance, their celebratory kiss a final insult above my broken body on the rain-slicked concrete of the port.
As my soul floated inches from my own face, a tyrant the world knew only as a disfigured cripple, Charles Moses, arrived with a team of soldiers.
He ignored my killers, who were now begging for their lives. Instead, he fell to his knees in the mud and blood.
He cradled my lifeless head in his hands, and a gut-wrenching sob of pure agony tore from his throat before he carried my body into the black ocean.
As the water closed over us, I didn't understand. Why did this monster, a man I had never met, weep for me as if I was his entire world?
My eyes snapped open. I was five years in the past, coughing up water in a hospital bed. It was the night my family screamed at me for ruining my stepsister's dress after she'd tried to drown me.
When they offered to marry me off to the "crippled monster" Charles Moses to save my perfect stepsister from that fate, I didn't fight them.
I smiled and said yes.
This time, I would walk straight into the lion's den myself.
7.1
In my past life, my fiancé Grayson Falcone locked me in an abandoned warehouse to die of a fever while he paraded his mistress around the city.
I opened my eyes and was reborn right on the night of the Plaza Hotel gala.
Just like before, Grayson swam right past me in the freezing fountain, pulling his dripping mistress into his arms in front of New York's elite mafia families.
He publicly shattered our honor, leaving me to face absolute social death.
But this time, Damon Falcone—Grayson's uncle and the most feared Don in the city—stepped out of the shadows, wrapped me in his coat, and carried me away.
To safely destroy the betrothal, I decided to become Grayson's worst nightmare. I played the suffocatingly devoted fiancée, even "accidentally" feeding him his lethal allergen.
But my plan completely backfired.
Instead of breaking the engagement, Grayson developed a sick, morbid fascination with my lethal intentions.
Even worse, Damon cornered me in his private shooting range, his eyes burning with a terrifying, dark obsession as he pinned me against his chest.
I didn't understand why my calculated revenge was spiraling so dangerously out of control.
Thanks to the vicious rumors about Damon carrying me away, the furious family matriarch slammed her hand on the table to protect the family's honor.
"The rumors end now. Grayson and Isabella will marry next month."
8.5
At 3:12 AM, a call from the NYPD shattered the silence of my dorm. My childhood sweetheart and the city’s golden heir, Liam Sterling, was in custody and needed me to bail him out.
I rushed to the precinct, trembling as I swiped my father’s emergency credit card for five thousand dollars, only to watch Liam walk out and head straight for another woman. He had landed in a cell because he’d started a brawl to protect Jade—a girl with pink hair and a jagged attitude—while I was just the "best friend" he called to clean up his mess.
In the backseat of the cab I paid for, I watched the man I loved pull her into his lap, treating me like an invisible chauffeur. When I finally demanded the truth, he didn't apologize; he reminded me that our families were tied by a multi-million dollar merger and that I was "like a sister" to him. My own mother echoed his coldness, telling me to stop being dramatic because our family was secretly bankrupt and we needed the Sterling money to survive.
I spent years being his "good girl," even recording a fake video for the press claiming he was a hero who fought to defend my honor. But the illusion shattered when I saw the photos of him with Jade on my birthday—the same night he told me he was working late to secure our future.
"I love you, Zoe. Like I love my dog. You’re loyal, but you’re boring."
I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was his shield. He used the trauma of the day he "saved" my life to keep me in his debt, never realizing that the chains of gratitude had finally snapped.
As the Sterling empire began to crumble under a sudden leak of scandals, I didn't run back to Liam. Instead, I looked at the encrypted message from his dangerous, outcast brother, Julian, who had been waiting in the shadows. He didn't just offer me a way out; he offered to buy my family's debt and claim me as the collateral.
9.2
I died as the "Queen," an elite assassin who leveled criminal syndicates, only to wake up in a damp trailer smelling of rot and stale tobacco. My new body belonged to Arleen Brewer, a malnourished teenager with a failing heart and a life defined by systemic poverty.
A flickering blue light in my mind identified itself as a System, offering a devil's bargain: survive this life, and I could resurrect my dead brother, Dusty. To earn his return, I had to endure my alcoholic stepfather’s rage and a body so weak it struggled to even stand.
At my elite prep school, the rich kids treated me like a walking corpse, covering my desk in trash and mocking my heart condition. Even my fiancé, Shen Wenyu, publicly branded me as "unstable" and stood by while the school's golden boy tried to humiliate me.
They expected me to wither away, but they didn't realize a wolf was now wearing the sheep's skin. I shattered the bully’s nose with a metal tray and tore up my engagement contract in front of a stunned auditorium, only to be met with immediate threats of lawsuits and expulsion.
I didn't understand how the original Arleen survived this suffocating injustice without breaking, but as the Queen, I was ready to turn this school into a war zone.
Then Hale Clemons, the most dangerous man in the city, cornered me outside the principal's office. He saw through my mask, realizing his very presence was the only thing keeping my failing heart from stopping.
"I’m not buying your loyalty," he said, handing me a gold-embossed card. "I’m investing in a weapon."
I took the deal, ready to use his power to bring my brother back and bury everyone who ever looked down on Arleen Brewer.
7.7
Five years ago, Zaria Blackthorne lost everything. Framed as a traitor's daughter, she watched her parents die, was betrayed by her fated mate, Callum Nightbane, and cast into prison-only to be saved by a monster who wanted to ruin her. That night, she should have died. But fate had other plans.
Now, she's back. No longer the naïve girl who once begged for mercy, she has been reborn as Celeste Draven, the temptress of Nightbane Academy. With a new identity, a rare bloodline that makes her irresistible, and a body forged for seduction, she is ready to dismantle the lives of those who betrayed her-one sinful encounter at a time.
But revenge comes at a cost.
Three powerful men are obsessed with her and they are a tool in her revenge games and then she realised the deeper she played, the harder it becomes to keep the men in control.
And what do you think will happen when the truth comes to light, and she discovered she was being played herself? Will she sacrifice her love for vengeance or allow her enemies to burn and claim the throne for herself?
Dive into this story of betrayal, revenge, reverse haram, and obsession, where no man actually owns Zaria Blackthorne.
7.0
My five-year-old daughter, Lily, was dying.
I used my entire tech fortune to secure a donor heart, a last-ditch effort to save her.
The only surgeon I trusted to perform the transplant was her father, my husband, Graham.
But on the day of the surgery, he vanished.
He diverted the heart I bought to another child-the daughter of his mistress, Bella Savage.
Lily died.
As her heart monitor flatlined, Graham called not to console me, but to celebrate the successful surgery for his lover's child. He blocked my number as I screamed for him.
He didn't even come to the funeral.
He called me selfish. He said I didn't deserve to be a mother.
He stood at our daughter's grave and asked her to forgive the little girl who now had her heart.
My love for him died with our daughter, replaced by a cold, surgical rage.
He thought he had destroyed me. He had no idea he had just created the monster who would incinerate his entire world.